As though reading her mind, Jackson reached behind Vanessa’s back and unfolded the lavender garment, settling it around her shoulders. “You look a little chilled.” The kindness of his tone, the gentle way he squeezed her arm, sent a zing of pleasure through Vanessa’s body.
So, this was the Wunderkind about whom Peter had been singing praises for several months now. Her brother had been eager to show this man the CI Worldwide Headquarters in London and expose him to the company’s UK operations. What an introduction.
“Peter tempted me to leave behind the sunny skies and warm temperatures of California by telling me how fantastic London is at Christmas.”
Vanessa sipped her tea then grinned. “That trick has worked in the past you know. Painting poetic pictures of London during the holidays nabbed him a perfectly fabulous wife.” With that thought, a whole new set of questions bloomed through Vanessa’s head and heart. “By the way, where’s our Lexie?”
“Alexa is waiting for us at the apartment, with Christopher, who’s dealing with a bout of colic that has us both ready to run for cover.” Peter snickered and flicked at a wave of hair that had tumbled over Vanessa’s shoulder. “This should prove to be an interesting mix: my faultlessly styled socialite sister, a temperamental infant, and my beloved, sleep-deprived wife.”
“Who happens to be my best friend as well as a divine sister-in-law. You underestimate me, as usual.”
Vanessa quirked her lips and sent her brother a goading look. Oh, but it felt good to have her moxie rise into place again. She slanted a look toward Jackson. “So then, the IT upgrade Colby Intellilink is orchestrating for Harrods has nothing to do with my baby brother luring you to London?”
“That opportunity might have weighed into my decision to hop the pond. Peter’s your baby brother? I thought you were twins.”
She narrowed her eyes in mischievous challenge. “I’m older by two minutes. Two minutes twenty seconds, to make matters precise.”
“And you’ll quickly learn, Jackson, my sister is nothing if not precise.”
Jackson blinked a few times and stared as though taking her in by slow, careful degrees. She could have sworn a bit more of that appealing red color crested against his perfectly formed features.
“I consider myself warned. Additionally, it seems there’s nothing wrong with her mental acuity.”
He squirmed, which stirred her heart and left warmth to bloom like flower petals.
He cleared his throat. “So, now that we’ve achieved crisis containment, let’s see if we can’t get you home so you can recover.”
“Fortunately, there’s not much to recover from, thanks to you, Mr. Merritt. And, frankly, I don’t know nearly enough about you. I look forward to rectifying that issue promptly.”
Something shy and reserved vibrated from him, and at the same time, she watched shutters fall slowly over his eyes. Vanessa wondered. Was the change due to her subtle display of feminine interest? Had she set him off in some unknown way?
“I prefer Jackson, and I’ll tell you what. You’ve seen me at my best, Miss Colby. You’re grateful, and I appreciate that. If you’re still interested in discovering my particulars after you get to know me and discover how boring I actually am, we can discuss things further. Deal?”
Vanessa arched a brow and held out her hand. “I prefer Vannie—and we most definitely have a deal. Furthermore, I dare say you can count on those upcoming discussions.”
Her smile increased when it took him an extra beat to accept the gesture of her handshake, but the touch of his skin sliding against hers, his fingertips holding firm, was well worth the wait.
2
Jackson peeled off his jacket upon entering his suite at the Bentley Hotel. Next, he unbuttoned his vest and loosened his tie. Oh, what a relief. Tossing the suit coat across the back of a chair, he let out a savoring exclamation as he continued toward comfort by releasing the stranglehold of his shirt collar.
What a day, and welcome to London, he thought. For now he sidelined the idea of unpacking the suitcase which stood like a mean taunt next to the mirrored doors of a closet. Instead, he took a moment to familiarize himself with the space that would be his home for the next couple of weeks. There hadn’t been time for exploration after landing and check-in. His excitement about gaining greater familiarity with the UK headquarters of Colby Intellilink and connecting with Peter Colby had overridden all else. The Harrods project that had come to life was a Godsend—meaty and intensive from the standpoint of IT set up. The assignment might also mean an extended stay in Great Britain. Given recent personal circumstances, that was fine by him. He couldn’t wait to dive in.
Everything about his surroundings struck Jackson as lush and inviting—but he was dead on his feet, depleted of what little adrenaline remained following tonight’s unexpected rescue mission.
The image of Vanessa Colby overtook his mind—and his heart—and he ground out a sigh. What an incredible woman. The unbidden thought became a flashpoint that left him to clench his jaw. He didn’t need incredible women. Not after…
Vanessa’s image dawned all over again, doing battle against a heart blockade that over the span of the past few months had become as familiar to Jackson as his own skin. Vanessa’s fair face was framed by long waves of reddish brown hair. A tall, slender figure was tailor-made for the high-end fashion world she inhabited. That made sense, since she was a personal shopper and consultant at The Penthouse—the most exclusive purchasing arena at Harrods. He recalled deep green eyes, high cheekbones, a full, absolutely kissable mouth—
Jackson shook his head hard, stopping that thought right in its tracks. He quickly worked free of attraction.
Fists planted on his hips, he resumed a survey of the room. Peter Colby had been typically generous in seeing to top-rate accommodations. Jackson’s suite featured a spacious and graciously appointed sitting area, complete with a mahogany writing desk he spied like a hungry man at a feast. That’s what he needed—a spot where he could work. He needed a computer lifeline, something he understood, especially after the day’s unsettling conclusion. Overtired as he was, a quick check of work matters would help him wind down and provide a comfort zone, a faultless and dependable companion. Computers he understood. Connections from A to B he understood. Such matters were clear and direct. Women like the chic and vivacious Vanessa Colby? Not by miles.
Time had proven that out, with disastrous results.
Releasing a hum of frustration, Jackson paced from the marble entryway, his footfalls cushioned by plush white carpeting as he crossed into the living area of the suite. He didn’t need the crushing pain of bitter memories. He didn’t need to focus on the exquisite charms of Vanessa, either. Instead, he grabbed his laptop from inside its leather carrier and pulled an adapter from the front pocket. He set up his equipment at the desk which was positioned before a wide, curtained window. He sat and pushed back the sheer. From four flights above, he admired the evening view of Harrington Gardens, a quaint, narrow street of Knightsbridge. The Bentley was located scant blocks from corporate headquarters, and his location was only a few miles away from Peter’s apartment.
The apartment, Jackson had been told, was space Peter shared with Vanessa while dividing his time between Los Angeles and London.
Vanessa. Again. He punched the POWER button and steeled his shoulders, trying desperately to refuse the way his heart reacted to the woman. While the computer chimed and hummed into action, he studied the motion of automobile traffic and people on the street below. For a few mind-soothing moments, he allowed himself to be transfixed by the image of multi-colored Christmas lights and evergreen swags that curved and swung above the road. Ancient brick store fronts with windows ablaze were further illuminated by pools of soft light that came from street lamps decorated by thick, red bows. Jackson’s heart flexed tight when he happened to spy the minute figure of a man and woman sharing an embrace and an elongated, passionate kiss just outside the colonnaded entryway of the hotel. A
sardonic mood stirred his lips into a curve. Just as Peter had promised, London seemed a magical place to visit at Christmas.
Except when you’re alone, Jackson thought. Like me. Because of…
Nasty, unwelcome thoughts invaded his mind and poked at him, prompting him to move away from the enticing romance of the street scene below. He grabbed the laptop and settled instead onto an easy chair, complete with footstool, where he kicked up comfortably with no view but the gray and white walls of his hotel space. Now able to focus, he logged into his company e-mail account and plowed through the latest missives.
For the next hour, business matters happily consumed him. Bleary eyes and a rapidly fogging mind didn’t dissuade him from extinguishing a handful of minor company fires back in the States. He forced himself to stay awake for as long as possible; he needed to adjust to a horrendous time difference between California and Great Britain.
When he checked his personal e-mail account, Jackson’s world lurched.
Subject Line: Patterns of Insanity
From: Tamara McKenna
His gut clenched as some form of a masochistic tendency rose to the surface. Jackson clicked the message open and flexed his jaw.
Jax ~
Jackson now hated the nickname, bracing as he plowed ahead into her message.
It’s taken me nearly two months to find a way to form thoughts, and feelings, into words. It’s taken me nearly two months to come to terms with the fact that I lied to a man who will never believe what I’m about to say. But I need to say this to you anyway. You hold my heart, and you always will. You might never understand the way I betrayed my marriage vows by entering into a relationship with you, Jax, but we met, and a world of magic filled me. I wanted nothing more than to be with you forever. Knowing your spiritual drive and your commitment to Christ, I sank deeper and deeper into a lie of my own creation, allowing you to believe I was single because the idea of losing you ripped me apart. Now, I endure a worst case scenario. I’m trapped in a marriage I abhor, recognizing the loss of a man I love, admire and respect, and I’m consumed by the fear that I might never be able to win you back.
I’m writing to you now because I understand you’re in London on business for an extended period. (I’ve maintained what connections I can so I can still feel near to you). I hope you’re running because you need time enough to think—time enough to confront the fact that the emotions between us run deep and strong. Meanwhile, I won’t run. Not anymore. I’m going to move ahead into what I want most in my life. You. I’m divorcing Todd. It’s something I should have done ages ago. Had I known a man like you would come into my life, I never would have married him in the first place. I’m not even sure I ever loved him. I was terrified of telling you the truth, so I deceived you. I need to live with that, and atone for it. But you need to clearly understand my intent wasn’t to inflict pain. I wanted only to preserve the relationship we created.
Ask yourself something—and I hope you give me the answer to the following question. Are you traveling to London, in part, as a means of escape? Are you confused about what would happen if we met privately, face-to-face? Are you afraid you might surrender all over again to the love we shared? If so, I completely understand your hesitance in confronting that truth. I would expect nothing less, given what I’ve done. But if that’s the case, please don’t turn your back. Not yet. Not before giving me another chance. If you’ll let me, I promise to love you past all your fears. I believe, given a chance, I can make you re-acknowledge the beauty of what we created. The love you inspire has transformed my world. I want you back. Please believe that. Please know that. Please give me another chance.
For now and for always ~ I’m yours.
Tam
Head spinning, Jackson slouched deeper into the chair. He ran his fingertips against his lips as he maneuvered through the e-mail once more. The words were deceptively alluring and eloquent. But the message prompted him toward a startling discovery.
Boiling rage.
He frowned. Tamara spoke blithely of her world being transformed. Really? After lying? After betraying sacred vows and turning her back resolutely on what should have been a lifelong commitment? She could leave her marriage without even a trace of regret? She professed love, but Christian principles held Jackson’s spirit firmly in place. Tamara knew nothing about love at its deepest core. Still, he had fallen for her in blind trust—and been played for an unwitting fool.
Rereading her note was akin to ingesting even more of her poison.
Hold fast to what comes from My hand. Find Me in the love you seek.
Two small sentences of the Spirit were all it took to seal his heart—and firm his resolve. Jackson promptly exited e-mail and kicked his feet off the ottoman. After depressing the POWER button on his laptop, he clicked the device closed, stood, and extended into a long, satisfying stretch.
God knew. God understood. Sure, some of the people he came in contact with considered him old fashioned and conservative in his outlooks. So be it. Working at Colby Intellilink was a tremendous blessing, for this company was founded and run by believers who possessed the utmost respect for the Christian principles Jackson had embraced since childhood. He wanted what was good, and true. He would never settle. Rather, he would commit his life to a relationship…to a miraculous three-cord strand of man, woman, and God…that reached so deep into his heart it would be impossible to destroy.
Given perfect hindsight, Jackson realized that even on her best day, Tamara came nowhere close to fulfilling that dream.
Still, the pierce-point of her betrayal stung. He recognized the symptoms of loneliness. Nearing the end of his twenties, as he watched the bulk of his friends marry and welcome babies, Jackson remained a bachelor, focused on work objectives. In part, he knew that pattern needed to change. But he also realized there was comfort to be found in following an established routine and the professional call of his life.
Tamara had shredded his heart. Was it any wonder he craved stability? For the duration of the Harrods IT upgrade and his visit to CI Headquarters in London he intended to laser focus and resist any thoughts of women and romance. For now, he needed nothing but work, which filled him with a sense of accomplishment and the assurance that he was making good use of God-given gifts.
Alone.
Jackson released a low growl, paced to the entryway of his suite. All over again, he saw Vanessa in a twofold revelation: the panicked, helpless victim of a botched armed robbery, then the strong and gorgeous woman who had quickly come to fascinate him.
Hadn’t Tamara done much the same?
Confusion roiled and his head throbbed due to a lack of sleep. It was definitely past time to turn in. He wheeled his suitcase into the bedroom where a king-sized bed looked like heaven itself. Unzipping the luggage, he tucked clothes into dresser drawers and hung suits and shirts in the closet. He studiously ignored the television armoire, leaving the doors closed to avoid a temptation to scan news networks and sports highlights from the States.
If only thoughts of Vanessa Colby could be as easily exiled.
Following a quick wash up, Jackson tumbled into bed and extinguished the table lamp, welcoming the wave of sleep that overcame him almost instantly. His last waking thought, however, was an affirmation of sorts, a resolution to stay centered and refuse delivery on the abundant charms of one Vanessa Colby.
No matter how beautiful and authentic she might be.
****
“I’m curious.”
“You’re obsessed. There’s a big difference.”
Vanessa tromped up the stairs leading to the expansive apartment in Pimlico which she shared on a part-time basis with her brother and his wife, Alexa. She huffed in an exasperated way that had nothing to do with the exertion of navigating the steep and narrow cement steps. “I’m intrigued. He’s dashing. I freely admit to being fascinated, which is why I ask, yet again, how can such a powerhouse of a man be so commanding one second and so reserved and shut-off the
next? He was positively tongue-tied at the end of our exchange. I can’t help but wonder why he—”
“Alexa! Save me!” Peter’s thundering plea echoed through the entryway. “Promptly, if you don’t mind!”
Vanessa giggled at his long-suffering tone, delighted to have her brother and his family home in London once again.
Light footfalls and the occasional, comforting squeak of wood came to Vanessa’s ears. Next, she detected a baby’s gurgles and soft coos. This was the first trip home for Peter and his bride since their now four-month-old baby Christopher had been born.
“Lexie!” Vanessa charged for her friend, a petite, captivating blonde who held her son close, rubbing his back. A white cloth diaper was draped over her shoulder. “Christopher Colby, you’re gorgeous!” With no sense of preamble, Vanessa slipped the baby from Alexa’s arms and snuggled him close. “Although, I understand you’re being a naughty boy, keeping your mother awake ’til all hours.”
Vanessa nuzzled Christopher’s plump cheek, savoring the scent of his skin. Alexa, meanwhile, gave Vanessa a teasing wink and blew a soft fringe of hair from her eyes. “How typical. The mother’s forgotten amidst the joy of babyhood.”
Alexa pressed her hands to her back and arched into a stretch. Vanessa snickered and leaned around Christopher to deliver an affectionate peck to both of Alexa’s cheeks. “I’ve missed you like mad, and you know it, Lexie.”
“I know it.” Alexa giggled and gave Vanessa’s arm a tender squeeze. “Poor CC. He thinks he’s hungry, and he’s squawking for a bottle, but it’s not time for a feeding yet. I swear he doesn’t know what time zone he’s in anymore.”
Vanessa gazed adoringly at her nephew. “The poor little jetsetter.”
Peter laughed and pulled Alexa into a tight embrace. “Hello, Lexie-love.”
At once, the tiny lines around Alexa’s eyes and mouth disappeared, vanishing into the tapestry of Peter’s love. Vanessa thought of Jackson, and prickles of longing sparked against her senses. Had gratitude for chivalry morphed out of all proportion?
Snowflake Kisses Page 2
