A Puppy for Christmas. Кэрол МортимерЧитать онлайн книгу.
answer to you for anything I might choose to do in my private life!’
Jackson tightened his jaw in an effort to stop himself from giving Bree the reply she deserved: what the hell had just happened between the two of them if Bree was just an employee?
Damned if he knew.
And it was probably best if it remained that way. Kissing Bree in the first place had been a mistake on Jackson’s part. Almost making love to her had been an even bigger one. It would be better all round if they both tried to forget it had ever happened.
If either of them could forget.
‘You’re right: it is time I went to my apartment,’ Bree agreed suddenly, still totally unsettled by their argument over Roger Tyler—not to mention the fact that she and Jackson had almost made love just now!
A fact that would definitely make it difficult for the two of them to work together in future.
Was that the only thing worrying her about this evening? Whether or not she and Jackson would be able to continue working together?
Bree didn’t dare to think about the reasons why she and Jackson had almost made love.
‘Fine. I’ll see you in the morning.’ Jackson nodded curtly and looked away, a frown darkening his brow.
A similar frown remained on Bree’s brow long after she had returned to her apartment.
CHAPTER SIX
‘GOOD morning, Bree! And how are you on this—?’
Jackson’s deliberately cheery greeting was cut off abruptly as he entered Bree’s office the following morning, after dropping Danny off at school. A small bundle of dark grey and white fur rushed across the room, becoming entangled in his legs and almost tripping him up in the process.
‘Damn it, Beau!’ Jackson regained his balance, bending down to pick up the squirming puppy before he could cause any more mayhem.
So much for Jackson’s bright and breezy entrance!
He had debated long and hard with himself as he’d stood in front of the mirror shaving this morning, considering the best way to behave towards Bree today. They had stepped over an imaginary but definitive line between work colleagues and lovers—a line Jackson had only yesterday told himself must never be crossed if he and Bree were to continue working together …
Never be crossed? Last night Jackson had trampled it completely underfoot in his haste to kiss Bree!
The memory of which had not been in the least conducive to his having a dreamless and trouble-free sleep …
In fact Jackson hadn’t slept well at all, as his reflection in the mirror had confirmed: he had dark circles under his eyes and a grim expression on his face. The dark circles wouldn’t fade until he’d had a decent night’s sleep, but the grim expression definitely had to go! Hence his attempt at a hearty good morning—an attempt that had been totally ruined by Beau’s exuberant greeting.
‘He likes you!’ Bree put down the Christmas card she’d been reading, chuckling softly as the puppy licked Jackson’s chin enthusiastically. ‘Or not,’ she added when Beau sneezed loudly, his expression one of doggy surprise.
‘I think it’s my aftershave he doesn’t like,’ Jackson remarked distastefully, before putting the puppy back down onto the carpeted floor.
‘Probably,’ Bree agreed, suddenly feeling shy and more than a little embarrassed by memories of the previous evening’s intimacy. Now that Jackson had had the whole night to think about it, Bree was half worried that he might have decided to tell her they could no longer work together.
Which would be awful.
Worse than awful!
She liked working and living here. More than that, Bree had realised whilst lying sleepless in bed the previous night, Jackson and Danny had become like family to her. This was no doubt partly due to the still-strained relationship between Bree and her own family. But, whatever the reason, Bree couldn’t bear the idea of being asked to leave, of never seeing Jackson or Danny again …
The events of last night meant she might not be given any choice in the matter!
Bree still had no explanation for what had happened. One minute they had been talking and the next … The next was the part Bree had no explanation for. Jackson kissing her. And her own response to those kisses.
Bree had never thought of herself as a sensual being. She’d had no reason to think of herself that way—having feelings like the ones Jackson had incited the previous night had never happened to her before!
She and David had started going out together during their last year of university. Casual dates, mainly, to the cinema or out for a pizza. After graduating they had lost touch for a year or so, then met up again at a party given by a mutual friend. David, by then a stockbroker, had invited Bree out to dinner. After that they had dated regularly, and got engaged on Bree’s twenty-fifth birthday. They had arranged their wedding for the following Christmas.
Never in all the years that Bree had known David had she been as excited by his kisses, as aroused by his caresses, as she had been in Jackson’s arms the night before!
Which meant precisely what?
That she had somehow become a sensual being in the last year?
Or that she hadn’t loved David as much as she thought she had?
Certainly Bree had never felt the thrum of excitement in David’s company that she felt again now, just from looking at Jackson and remembering their intimacies of the night before!
Her mouth firmed resolutely and she looked down at the open appointment book on her desk.
‘You have a meeting with Lord Caxley at ten o’clock this morning, a lunch date with Jennifer Greaves, and as it’s Danny’s last day of school before the Christmas holidays there’s a present for his teacher on the—’
‘What happened to “Good morning, Jackson”?’ he cut in derisively, leaning against the side of her desk and looking down at her with teasing blue eyes.
Too close! Jackson was standing far too close to her. So close, in fact, that Bree could feel the heat his body exuded through the white T-shirt and faded blue denims; she could smell the aftershave that had so disagreed with Beau a few minutes ago, and the more earthy, male smell of clean skin and the lemon shampoo Jackson must have used on his hair.
The same golden honey-and-molasses hair that Bree had threaded her fingers through the night before as Jackson’s mouth latched onto her breast—
Oh, dear Lord! What was happening to her?
She wasn’t this person. Had never been this person. And Bree didn’t want to be the sort of person whose breasts swelled, nipples hardening, as a hot rush of moisture burned between her legs, prompted simply by the close proximity of a man! And not just any man, either. Jerome Jackson Beaumont, to be precise.
But Bree couldn’t deny that she was feeling all of those things now. Her fingers gripped the edge of her desk and she shifted uncomfortably in her chair, an urgent throbbing between her thighs, her breasts tingling, the nipples hard and ultrasensitive against the soft material of her bra.
‘Bree …?’
She drew in a ragged breath, forcing her fingers to relax their grip on the desk, before looking up at Jackson from beneath long dark lashes, trying in vain to remember what they had been talking about.
‘I thought you would want to know what appointments you have lined up for today,’ she explained quietly.
Jackson looked down searchingly into Bree’s smoky-grey eyes, not in the least reassured by the way her gaze avoided his. As he had feared, something had changed, shifted, in their relationship. But was it to the point where they really couldn’t continue working together?