A Puppy for Christmas. Кэрол Мортимер

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СКАЧАТЬ …?’ she prompted warily as he continued to pace.

      His eyes glittered with displeasure as he turned to look at her. ‘You had a visitor earlier.’

      ‘I did?’ Bree’s wariness increased as she wondered who that visitor could possibly have been. Certainly not Roger; they had parted amicably enough on the telephone earlier. And on the rare occasions when she met with family or friends it was always in town or at one of their homes; Bree had certainly never invited anyone to visit her here at Beaumont House. She’d always preferred to keep her work and her private life completely separate. Although she and Jackson hadn’t been too successful at doing that lately!

      ‘Yes,’ Jackson bit out tersely.

      Bree bristled at the censure she heard in his tone. ‘I trust I am allowed to have visitors here?’

      ‘Of course,’ he snapped.

      ‘Well? Aren’t you going to tell me who it was?’ she demanded impatiently—really, Jackson could be one of the most infuriating of men!

      As well as one of the most dangerously attractive …

      His was a dangerous and disturbing attractiveness that Bree had found herself thinking about far too much today. She’d thought about him as she’d worked that morning. She’d thought about him as she’d eaten a light lunch before going out. And as she’d wandered around the shops, searching in vain for his Christmas present, she’d thought—of course—of nothing but him.

      The cocoon of emotional and physical numbness that Bree had wrapped herself in over the past year had, she realised, been forced wide open by the intensity of the previous night’s lovemaking with Jackson!

      So much so that her senses were running riot with physical awareness just from being in his presence again. Jackson made her pulse race,

      and the smell of him—clean and earthy, with the underlying musk of a male in his prime—sent shivers of sensation down her spine. Her hands—hands Bree now clasped firmly together behind her back—ached to reach out and touch him. All of him. From the impressive width of his shoulders to the hardness of his muscled chest and stomach, and lower still to his—

      Oh, dear Lord!

      Bree swayed slightly on her feet as the heat of desire rushed through her. Her whole body was feeling hot, her nipples tingling as they became engorged, that warmth seeming to burn as it ached between her thighs.

      She sat down abruptly on the sofa—it was that or risk falling down!

      Bree had always believed that going weak at the knees was just a romantic expression; now she knew it to be absolutely true. If she hadn’t sat down when she had, she would probably have collapsed in a heap at Jackson’s feet!

      What was happening to her?

      Whatever it was, it was distinctly uncomfortable! And totally, utterly stupid if she wanted to continue working for Jackson.

      Which she did.

      Just the thought of leaving—of never seeing Jackson again, of being separated from Danny—was enough to make Bree’s chest ache. And not in a pleasant way either!

      ‘What are you thinking about?’

      Bree looked up at Jackson warily, her breath catching in her throat as he focused all the intensity of his glittering blue eyes on her. She moistened her lips nervously, averting her own gaze and looking into the flames of the gas fire.

      ‘I’m still waiting for you to answer my question,’ she said softly.

      ‘But that wasn’t what you were thinking about, was it?’ There was a quiet, knowing triumph in his voice as he spoke.

      Colour warmed Bree’s cheeks even as she raised heavy dark lashes to look up at him. ‘You can’t possibly know that.’

      ‘Can’t I?’

      ‘No!’

      He raised his eyebrows, taunting her. ‘I know that whatever you were thinking about it hardened your nipples!’

      The colour deepened in Bree’s cheeks as she looked down self-consciously and saw the clear outline of her aroused nipples against the soft wool of her sweater. She closed her eyes, groaning inwardly with mortification.

      ‘Maybe you were imagining your visitor was Roger Tyler?’

      ‘Of course I wasn’t imagining that!’ Bree protested, looked up with a frown.

      ‘No?’ Jackson took a moment to savour her protest before his expression hardened again.

      Was Bree even wearing a bra? If she was, then it was worse than useless at concealing the smooth curve of those full and tempting breasts, let alone the firm outline of her aroused nipples.

      Nipples that Jackson ached to expose to the ministrations of his lips, tongue and teeth!

      ‘Who do you think it was if it wasn’t Tyler?’

      ‘I have absolutely no idea. Nor am I particularly interested—least of all in playing your childish little guessing games,’ she spat impatiently. ‘I think it’s time you left.’

      ‘I’m not going anywhere until you tell me who David is.’

      ‘David?’ She was completely taken aback. ‘Are you saying that my visitor was David?’

      ‘Would it matter to you if it was?’

      Would it? Bree asked herself dazedly.

      Last week—yesterday, even—the answer to that question might have been yes. But did it matter to her today, here and now, after what had happened with Jackson last night …?

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