Snowflake Kisses

by Marianne Evans

  “First, I’m delighted by your use of my nickname. Thanks for that. Second? I have to agree. Even as a native, I never get tired of this place. The view alone is second to none, but wait until you taste the food.”

  On cue, their server arrived, taking orders for hot tea along with dual requests for an entrée of Shepard’s pie. Outside, people bustled past, hunched into their coats. A steady wind rippled through the streets. Cars sailed past, as did double-decker busses and black cabs. Inside Kellinger’s, the world was warm and cozy. The roll of low conversations eddied around him. Candles nestled within clear crystal votive holders bathed their table with pale, white light.

  “So.” Vanessa propped her elbows delicately upon the linen draped table and rested her chin against folded hands. Large, clear eyes of green fixed on his and Jackson felt a tremor begin, fine but steady. And it built. “I’ve decided. Officially and everything.”

  He stared at her, puzzled, which made her grin.

  “The night we met you said once I got to know you better I could decide whether or not to learn more about you. Well, just in case my subtle cues have escaped your notice, I think you’re fantastic, and I definitely want to know you better. So. Go on with it, then. Tell me everything.”

  Jackson shifted in the chair and brushed his fingertips through his hair. He rallied reserve as best he could, silently stumbling for a few seconds. Following a pause, he met Vanessa’s gaze squarely. “I believe I also warned you that the topic would be boring.”

  “Highly unlikely. The man who runs a multi-million dollar business operation in the States, who can one moment formulate brilliant computer network operations, and the next moment render an attacker helpless defines himself as boring? I honestly believe you need to reconsider that idea.”

  “Don’t put too much emphasis on that, Vannie.”

  “You impress me. Deal with it.” She accompanied that playful jab with an arched brow and a smile that struck home perfectly. She touched her wine glass to his in salute. “And, once again, I love that you’re becoming comfortable with the use of my nickname.”

  Jackson didn’t allow her interest and praise to gain traction. Instead, he focused on what he knew needed to come next. Revelation. Out of respect for Vanessa, no matter where circumstances led them, he needed to be honest and open.

  “A black belt in martial arts is my way of keeping strong, maintaining mental and physical fitness in a job that’s quite sedentary. It led me to your rescue, and for that, I’m more grateful than I can say. I can’t stand the thought of the way you might have suffered—but beyond that—”

  “Beyond that, nothing else is necessary.”

  Her hand slid across his, resting warm and steady against the table top while candlelight flickered and, as though in answer to the moment, Big Ben began to chime the hour of seven. The scene, the setting, and most of all, the woman before him, formed such an appealing glimpse into what he had always hoped and prayed for in a loving relationship. She lifted her glass, her eyes sparkling in the soft, golden light. When she sipped, ruby lips claimed his focus.

  Jackson cleared his throat. Drawing a water goblet forward, he turned it slowly by the stem. His thumbs and fingertips absorbed droplets of condensation; the chill provided a welcome diversion from the heat he experienced when in Vanessa’s company.

  “I think I should be completely forthcoming, and let you know the whole truth about me, and my past.”

  “A man with a past. I’m intrigued. Go on.” Vanessa urged quietly. “Please?”

  If alarmed, she didn’t show it. Jackson appreciated the display of support, certainly, but still he knew a dangerous precipice loomed just ahead.

  “I hope you know there’s not much that would alter my view of you as someone noble.”

  Her sweet remark didn’t inspire him to respond in kind.

  Vanessa’s features slowly dimmed. “What is it?”

  “I had a bad experience in a relationship recently. Very recently, in fact.”

  “Meaning?”

  Dive in, he thought. Embrace the shock of ice cold water against your spirit. Then, make your way to the other side. “A little over a month ago, I was ready to propose to a woman.”

  Their server arrived, causing Vanessa to jump slightly as salads and freshened beverages were delivered. Jackson steeled himself. Once the steward left, Jackson forced himself to continue. “Her name was Tamara McKenna. She was a client, but we kept to the straight and narrow until the completion of the network installation program we completed for her company. Once business ended, we entered into something a great deal more personal. What we discovered, I thought, was an idyllic romance.”

  He noticed the way Vanessa braced. Her shoulders tightened, and her chest rose and fell against the soft blue blouse she wore as though she were steadying herself through a supreme act of will.

  “You made love.”

  “No. Came close, I have to admit, but no.” Jackson sighed. “We were in love, completely…perfectly…right up to the point when I discovered she was married.”

  5

  Before Vanessa could check the reaction, her jaw dropped. She felt her eyes go wide with shock. “You...you found yourself...what?”

  Jackson closed his eyes and lowered his head. His silence pounded at her while he folded his hands on the tabletop. Snow danced and shimmered through the air outside. In the restaurant, people carried on soft, intimate conversations. Meanwhile, she caught her breath and battled to regroup and ingest.

  “I’m sure there’s much more to your story than that simple statement.” She reached out to capture his fingertips, but all the while, she struggled against nerves. A recent break up? With a woman he was ready to commit to in marriage? A woman who, come to find out, was married? She took a fast, cooling swallow of water. “Would you care to tell me more about it?”

  He clenched his jaw and shrugged, but he maintained their connection, a fact she appreciated.

  “There is much more, and I would like to discuss it, because I sense…I…feel something…you’re important. I don’t want there to be muddy water between us.”

  The stilted, boyish charm of that admission warmed Vanessa’s heart. In his own reserved, stumbling way, he had given way to admitting attraction. For now, though, she kept mum on that particular recognition. More important territory needed to be covered first.

  “I’ll begin by saying I appreciate the way you see me as noble. Someone who’s protective. Certainly, given the dramatic way I entered your life, that line of thinking holds weight, but Vanessa, I’m not like that at all. In fact, when I fell in love with Tamara, I discovered just how ignorant I can be when it comes to matters of the heart.”

  “Sounds more to me like you were hoodwinked.”

  “Perhaps, but I made a huge mistake. A critical error in judgment.”

  Vanessa’s brow shot up, and she firmed her lips for a moment, capturing his gaze deliberately. “Were you aware of her marriage at the time you were involved? No. Rather, you found yourself drawn to a woman you felt worthy of your affection. Where’s the judgment error, Jackson? Seriously.”

  He didn’t answer. He unwrapped cutlery from a linen napkin and took his time settling the silverware and placing the unfolded cloth across his lap. “Tamara was dynamic and charming. She was the president of her own company. Very smart and very sophisticated. I felt I had somehow stumbled upon a woman oceans out of my league who, for some unknown reason, had fallen for me. I was blind. I should have realized our relationship built too intensely, and too fast. I should have stuck closer to the world I knew.”

  “Meaning monitors, computer chips, and network connections.” She grinned, aching to restore his comfort and the courtly vibration of their time together.

  Jackson lifted her hand and glided a soft, quick kiss against the knuckles. He grinned as well. “Oh, mock me if you must, but that’s where I feel at home.”

  His banter tickled her heart, but the playfulness quickly vanished.
“Work is where I find a level of confidence and control. Work is where I don’t fear being hurt—until now, that is.”

  Vanessa held her breath, noticing the somewhat abrupt way his words came to a stop. She decided to step into the void. “How did you find out?”

  “A friend of mine was acquainted with her husband.” Jackson drizzled vinaigrette dressing over the top of his salad. “The world is smaller than we think, eh?”

  “Definitely.” Vanessa dressed her salad as well and speared a forkful of greens. “So, your friend warned you off?”

  Jackson nodded. “And here’s the point in our story where I begin to lose nobility points.” He cast her a quick glance. “My heart nearly overruled my head. Until anger and betrayal set in. I have to admit, when she first told me about her marriage and the way it was crumbling, my convictions wavered. Her sorrow was real, and it battered me. I cared for her that much.”

  “They wavered, perhaps, but from what you’ve told me thus far, they certainly didn’t vanish. Keep in mind, facing temptation is completely different from succumbing to temptation.”

  “Being around Tamara was heady and intoxicating in ways that should’ve acted on my soul like a warning.” Jackson stroked his thumb against the back of her hand. “And here I am now, in danger of being swept away all over again.”

  Their eyes met. Silence held sway for an interlude accompanied by the soft chime of silverware, the low hum of conversation, the evocative dim hue of the restaurant’s atmosphere.

  “For now, at least I know I affect you in some small way.” Feeling courageous at his admission, Vanessa opted to answer in kind. “I was starting to wonder what I could do to break down that impenetrable fortress around your heart.”

  He released a sigh that was half rueful laugh. “You accomplished that objective the moment we met, Vannie. But that’s just the problem. I can’t—I won’t—lead you to unrealistic expectations. The idea of romance right now sends nothing but dread through my system. Besides, there are aspects of my job to consider, logistics that are against us—”

  “Codswallop!”

  Jackson froze at her affront and then burst into laughter. “Excuse me. What did you just say?”

  “I said codswallop!” Just as hoped, she’d turned this conversation on its ear, and in her favor. “You’re being utterly ridiculous and such behavior deserves a likewise comeback. I’ve watched my brother and best friend in the world work through logistics quite perfectly together because they share a beautiful love. Don’t you dare hide behind that as a means by which to avoid the issue of your heart.”

  Fast as it rose to the surface, her desire to challenge and battle ebbed. She leaned forward against the table. “Let me assure you of something. Tamara didn’t taint you. Not in the least. If anything your experience with her helped you grow into a remarkable man. After what you went through, it sounds to me like you’ve emerged into someone even more mature and caring than before. Tamara what’s-her-name might have learnt a thing or two from your example.”

  “I wish I could see it that way. I feel like I was easily manipulated and a bit daft, as you Brits might say.”

  Vanessa chuckled. “Well give yourself a gift this Christmas and let go of that idea. I promise you it’s absurd. She lied, not you. She led you on, not the other way around. Ergo, she’s the dolt. Not you.” Her hand slid softly against his once again; she happily absorbed the slightly roughened texture of his skin. There came to life a sizzle of awareness and longing at being the center of Jackson’s unwavering attention.

  “Perhaps you can come to understand something else, too,” she said. “You were governed by the very best of intentions, and you believed her worthy of your love. I say, shame on her for the way she betrayed your trust and affection.”

  ****

  The memory of Evensong services and the dinner he shared with Vanessa at Kellinger’s lingered in Jackson’s mind.

  In the days that followed, thoughts of her trailed him in an enticing, rosy mist; however, so did doubts about the wisdom of allowing himself to fall headlong into a romance so soon after being burned. Certainly the differences between Vanessa and Tamara were stark and telling, but all the same, emotion threatened to overrule sound logic.

  Gone was the level of confidence, the kind of faithful trust that would have otherwise enabled him to move freely ahead. Was that part of God’s learning curve? Part of His teaching?

  When those doubts crept in, Jackson recalled the way her eyes sparkled in a perfect reflection of her natural effervescence and spirited verve.

  Presently ensconced in a small, temporary office at the headquarters of Colby Intellilink, Jackson decided to let that image form the conclusion of his muddled thoughts for the time being. Giving full focus to the design schematic on the computer screen before him, Jackson returned to work, intending to spend a few hours working on infrastructure for the security system layout at Harrods.

  “Hello, Jax.”

  The two-word greeting blew his freshly ordered mind to smithereens. A chill coated his spine, and the blood drained from his face. How he refrained from a startled jump was beyond Jackson’s comprehension.

  Thankful that his back was turned, he schooled his features before turning to greet this thoroughly unexpected, and unwelcomed, arrival in London. He couldn’t even bring himself to stand. Rather, he swiveled his chair and acknowledged his guest with a hot, unwavering stare.

  “Tamara.”

  Her lips wavered, but she smiled. “It’s so good to see you.” She whispered the words; longing was clear in her hazel eyes—eyes that had once transfixed him. Long hair of light brown had been fashioned into a sleek braid; her ensemble was professional and stylish—a skirt, blouse, and jacket.

  At length, he had no choice but to stand and more formally acknowledge her presence. When she stepped forward, Jackson took two deliberate steps back. “Tamara, what on earth are you doing in London? Why are you here unannounced and most assuredly uninvited?”

  “I would think the answer to that question is obvious. I know you read my e-mail. I was notified when you opened it.”

  Feeling stalked, Jackson folded his arms across his chest and arched a brow, waiting in silence. She moved close once again. When her hands made contact with his chest, when she tried to slide her arms around his neck, Jackson took prompt hold of her wrists and quelled the gesture.

  “I wanted to surprise you.” Relentless, she delivered a plaintive look he ignored. She clenched her hands at her sides. “I meant what I said in my note. I’m determined to do what I can to”—she cleared her throat and looked around briefly, seemingly to assure privacy—“to repair the damage I caused. I take responsibility, Jax. Let that be enough. I know I wronged you, but I know how you feel about me. I want to go back to—”

  “Tamara, as far as I’m concerned, what you want is irrelevant. The issue of our relationship, pardon me, the issue of what used to be our relationship, has been resolved. Definitively and conclusively. If you’ve traveled all the way here in an effort to re-state your case, then I’m sorry to say you’ve wasted your time.”

  Strength of conviction and purpose flooded his veins. The emotions that rode through him now were precisely what he needed—and craved. Perhaps this moment of resolution would help him turn the corner on self-doubt for good. The woman held absolutely no appeal to him now. At this moment, the only emotion he experienced in her company was anger and an overwhelming urge to be done with her permanently.

  For the first time, her lips tightened into a disapproving line. Her eyes flashed. “We’ll see about that.”

  Jackson shrugged off the implied threat.

  “I wanted to see you, of course, but my visit has a business purpose as well, Jackson.”

  She used his full name. That fact touched him with uncertainty, but he refused to flinch. A foreshadowing of evil hit his system like an injection. “What are you talking about?”

  “My company was approached by Kensi-Corp, the staf
fing conglomerate based in New York.” Her lips quirked. “I believe you’re familiar with them. You’re bidding for their business correct?”

  Jackson refused to respond. He stared into her eyes, tension building like an electrical storm through his body. A lunch appointment with Peter this afternoon, to review upcoming bids and projects for North American operations, would indeed include a lengthy discussion of winning Kensi-Corp’s business.

  “I know their president.” Tamara sat in the chair across from his desk, looking at him with a decidedly satisfied set to her features and a posture of confidence. “John Kensington knows Colby Intellilink created our IT network. He asked me for a recommendation.”

  In that instant, Jackson experienced the sensation of a prime, high-profile project, along with a couple million dollars’ worth of revenue, sliding through his fingertips like so much sand.

  Tamara’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, her lips quirking. “As I said in the note, darling, I’ve kept tabs.”

  “And you’ve just made it abundantly clear I need to figure out what to do about that development. If you think this is going to win me back into your life, you grossly underestimate matters.”

  “Relationship or not, the ball’s in your court, as they say.” She lifted smoothly. “Think things over. We can be wonderful, if you just let it happen. Cheers.”

  His frosty body language kept further physical encroachment at bay—thank goodness for small mercies—but Jackson watched her retreating back and his stomach rolled into a set of nasty left-to-right pitches.

  What was he supposed to do next?