“Look, I really am sorry for barging in like this.”
She folded her hands in front of her and bit gently on her lower lip. Why were her lips to appealing? Focus buddy, focus. He shrugged, dragging his eyes away from her mouth. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I really wasn’t planning on getting here so late—”
“How did you know I was going to be here? No one knows about this place except my business partner and PA.” He saw the exact moment that her embarrassment turned to discomfort.
She waved a hand dismissively, but her voice sounded forced. “Oh, you can find anything online these days.”
He crossed his arms in front of him. She wasn’t looking so confident now. “No, you can’t. You can’t find anything about this cabin online.”
She averted her eyes. “It wasn’t her fault. I was probably a tad dramatic.” Maybe it was the sudden change in tone or the softening of her expression that made him get defensive.
Jackson narrowed his eyes. “Whose fault?”
“I think her name was Ann,” she said, biting her lip and looking away. Jackson tried to hide his shock. In all the years Ann had worked for him, she’d never released any personal details about him.
“What did you tell her?” He was genuinely interested in knowing how the hell this woman had managed to get the address of his cabin.
“I may have said it was a matter of life or death.”
He rolled his eyes. He was surprised Ann fell for that. “You seem to use that line as a catch-all, don’t you?”
“Well, I really did need to find you. And she was quite concerned when I mentioned the death part,” she said, lifting her chin. Something about the way she stood, the way she wouldn’t stop looking at him made him uneasy.
But no matter what, he knew she was here to tell him something he didn’t want to know. Not that it should matter. Nothing she could tell him would make him change his mind about his family.
He turned his back to her, focusing on the fire that didn’t need his attention at all. He heard her shuffling around and then the quiet padding of her feet across the wood floor.
“I’m sorry to bombard you with this.”
He ignored her attempt to open up the conversation. He turned to look at her, eyeing her snow-soaked pants. “Do you want to take off your jeans?”
Her green eyes grew comically large. “Pardon me?”
He almost laughed out loud at her expression. “I mean, you’re soaked. I can get you a blanket or something and you can put your jeans in the dryer.”
“Uh, no, I’ll stand here for a few minutes. I’m sure they’ll dry quickly by the fire.” Her face was still red as she moved closer to the fire.
Why should he care if she wanted to stay in wet jeans all night? “Why don’t I show you and uh—” He motioned to the baby with his chin. “—the baby your room?”
She nodded, but she bit on her lower lip. “Do you think I could have some hot water?”
“Hot water?”
“I need a small pot and some water on the stove to warm up a baby bottle. I can do it,” she said, reading his confusion.
“No it’s okay. I’ll be right back.”
…
Hannah stared at Jackson’s back as he walked out of the room. Outside, she’d been sure he was an ogre, that she’d made the wrong call in trying to find baby Emily’s uncle. But as soon as he told her the story of Charlie, she knew he had to have a heart underneath that cold exterior. And her instincts were never wrong. Now, all she had to do was chip away at him. She had less than twenty-four hours, but she could do it.
Once she’d found out his new name, information about Jackson had been easy. Jackson had started his own software company after graduating college, and he and his partner had turned it into a billion dollar company within ten years. His accomplishments were impressive, especially considering all he’d been through growing up. They shared a few similarities, not that he’d have any way of knowing that. She also knew that for all his success and all his money, he was notoriously private. So, her coming here declaring she knew things about his past must be disconcerting to say the least.
“Why don’t I show you the guest room and find some things for you to wear while the water boils?” he asked, walking back into the room. The impact of his words and the fact that she was going to stay overnight with him caused a ripple of hesitation through her body. She was a confident, independent, successful woman, so why did he make her feel like she was an insecure, self-conscious fifteen-year-old? Because he was nothing like the men she was used to. Not that she dated much, but when she did, they were not the intimidating type. She gravitated towards men that weren’t so tall, so built…so…
Jackson clearing his throat reminded her that he’d asked her something. Right. Wear? Was he going to offer her his clothes? Or did he have a stash from past girlfriends?
She forced a smile, trying to look her best to appear nonchalant, like she did this kind of thing all the time. “Yeah, that would be great.”
He nodded and walked past her, down the hallway adjacent to the kitchen.
“Come with me,” he said, not waiting for her. Hannah gave a quick glance to Emily and then followed him down the hall. There were three doors. Jackson passed the first room without saying anything and she assumed it was his. Hannah resisted the urge to peek her head in. From the looks of things around here, she could bet it was spotless. He stopped at the second door and Hannah pulled back abruptly before she walked into him.
“This is the washroom.” He flicked on the light switch and Hannah looked inside. It was a spacious, square washroom, and looked as though it had been recently renovated, much like the rest of the cabin. Rustic, tumbled marble floors in a creamy, earthy tone were the backdrop to the large, freestanding deep soaker tub. A massive, sparkling glass shower enclosure, with a rain-shower head, looked as good as it had on the bathroom special she’d just watched on TV. A neutral marble counter with matching his and hers sinks sat atop mahogany cabinets.
Hannah’s eyes settled on Jackson’s razor and toothbrush on the counter. Seeing his belongings felt oddly personal, private.
“Does it meet your approval?”
Hannah forced a smile. “It’s beautiful. Really, I’m sorry about how I intruded on you.”
The half smile that had teased his lips fell slightly, and his dark eyes held a note of surprise. Hannah took a step back. She didn’t know how they’d ended up standing so close, close enough that she could see the tiny flecks of cognac in his eyes, and the dark stubble on his face. And smell the fresh, woodsy aftershave he wore…
“And?”
“We honestly never meant to spend the night here.”
“Whatever.” He walked into the washroom and opened a dark drawer, pulled out a toothbrush still in its packaging, along with a square basket wrapped in clear cellophane filled with women’s toiletries. He must have a lot of female guests.
“Help yourself to whatever you need, though I don’t have anything a baby could want.” He flicked off the switch and walked to the room next door without waiting for her to reply. He opened the next door, the one directly across from his, and felt for the light switch.
“This is beautiful.” There was a king-sized mahogany sleigh-bed with a chocolate brown velvet duvet and matching throw pillows that looked so magnificent and comfortable that Hannah fought the urge to run over and sink into it. A stone fireplace was on the outside wall, with two leather armchairs in front of it accompanied by matching side tables and an antique rug.
“Thanks,” Jackson said, walking past her and turning on the bedside lamp.
Hannah tucked her hair behind one ear. “You have good taste.”
He smiled a patronizing, bored smile. “I had an interior designer do it.”
Of course he did, Hannah. As if he would have spent weeks picking out fabrics for curtains and duvet covers. “Oh. Well. She, or whoever did a great job.”
Hannah walked over
to the bed and opened her purse. She felt like an idiot for letting her guard down and actually trying to have a conversation with him. Why couldn’t he have been the stereotypical computer geek with pale skin, thick glasses, and scrawny body? Maybe if she started getting settled he’d get the hint and leave her alone for a few minutes, long enough to contact Mrs. Ford and let her know that she was going to be delayed.
“I’ll get you some something to sleep in,” he said, leaving the room.
A minute later, Jackson was beside her holding a folded navy blue T-shirt. “Here, it’ll be a bit big, but it should be okay for one night.”
Hannah took the T-shirt without looking at him and placed it on the bed. It was his. “Thanks.”
“I’ll be in the kitchen whenever you want that hot water.”
“Sure,” she mumbled. This was going to be the longest night of her life. She hoped Emily would sleep well tonight. She could use all the rest she could get.
“I’ll let you get settled. There’s a phone beside the bed if you need it. I’d use it sooner than later. I wouldn’t be surprised if the phone lines go down. Cell phone reception out here gets a bit sketchy at the best of times.”
“Great. I’ll, uh, be a few minutes.”
He walked out of the room without saying anything.
…
Jackson leaned against the kitchen counter, staring at the baby sleeping in the car seat. What he’d give for a night’s sleep like that. He had moved her closer to the fire. Even a moron knew not to keep a baby by a door during a blizzard. He ran his hands through his hair, letting out a rough sigh. His evening had been going perfectly well until little-miss-smart-mouth crashed his annual escape-Christmas bash.
He glanced down at his watch. What was taking her so long? What if the baby woke up?
He decided she’d had more than enough time to get settled, he thought walking down the hall to her room. Besides, she was staying for one night, not a month.
He stopped himself from walking into her room. He heard her voice, her door slightly ajar. He would have knocked, but when he heard his name, he thought it might be wise to listen first.
“I found Jackson Pierce. I found little Emily’s uncle. Thank you for letting me do this, Mrs. Ford. I’m so grateful… it’s the weekend so no one from the child services bureau will be contacting you… yes… thank you. I’ll call you when I know more… take care, Mrs. Ford.”
Jackson stared at her back, trying to make sense of what she said, but that sick feeling he got whenever someone mentioned his family was lodged in his gut.
Jackson felt dread seep through his veins. Emily? Emily’s uncle? As though she sensed his presence, Hannah turned around. Her bright green eyes loaded up with tears as they stared into his. Her uncle. Her uncle. Those softly spoken words echoed in his mind and they echoed in the beautiful face of the woman standing across from him. Jackson couldn’t move, his body going cold as the truth of Hannah’s visit sank in.
The baby.
That baby wasn’t hers. It was his sister’s.
Chapter Three
Jackson had heard everything.
The look on his face made her forget about Emily for a moment. All she could feel was the painful pumping of her heart and the acrid taste of the tears burning in her throat. This wasn’t the way he was supposed to find out. She’d had a carefully rehearsed speech.
His eyes locked with hers and he strode across the room in what seemed like two steps. Suddenly there was no space between them, the room tiny and stifling. Panic set in.
“I want to know exactly who you are and what the hell you think you’re doing. Everything. Now.” His voice was raspy. Harsh. The anger that emanated from him was blatant. His jaw was clenched tight and the eyes that she thought were warm not too long ago, glistened with hate.
Hannah despised showing her hand. Hated showing that she was afraid of anything or anyone. Hated having someone know that she could be weak. But when he took a step closer to her, waiting for her answer, she took a step back, because he reminded her of a different man, of a different world, when she had no one, when she was helpless. But she wasn’t that same girl anymore. She was a grown woman. She had confronted her demons years ago. She held her chin up and looked him squarely in the eye. Don’t show your fear. Don’t show your fear.
“I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but I need you to back away from me and I need you to calm down,” she whispered holding up a hand between them.
…
He nodded slowly. “I am calm. I’m in control. I’ve never been out of control. I’m not going to touch you. I won’t hurt you. I’m angry as hell right now, but I don’t want you to spend another second thinking that you are being physically threatened by me. I’ve never, ever raised my hand to a woman.” He was surprised at how gruff his voice sounded. He watched her try to figure out if she could trust what he was saying. She looked into his eyes and he could swear she saw things that he’d managed to keep hidden from those closest to him. He backed up a step and put his hands in his pockets, willing himself to look relaxed.
She finally gave him a small smile, and it tore at him, more than it should have. He barely knew her, but that expression on her undeniably beautiful face made his gut clench. It made him forget for a moment why he was so angry with her. For a second, the relief of her not being afraid replaced his rage.
She folded her arms in front of her and nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, for God’s sake.” Jackson ran his hands down the front of his face roughly, trying to stay in control of a situation that had the power to tear him down. He needed to get out of the room, away from her and everything she represented. He needed to gather his composure. He turned on his heel and walked out. When he reached the great room, Charlie came up to greet him, his scruffy tail wagging. Jackson patted the top of his head absently.
He heard her footsteps approaching.
“Jackson…” Her hesitant voice was barely audible against the wind and ice pellets drumming on the windows. He didn’t really feel like turning around. He avoided looking anywhere but straight ahead because he was acutely aware of the baby asleep in the room. He did not want to acknowledge what or who she might be.
“I’m a child services worker.” Hannah’s voice halted his emotional auto-shutdown mode. He hadn’t had to use that defense mechanism for a while, but it seemed whenever family was involved it was instinctual.
“Do you want a drink?” Right now, he was thinking he could down the whole bottle of his favorite whiskey.
He glanced over at her when she didn’t reply. She shook her head. Her face was pale, but she didn’t look afraid. He walked passed her to the mahogany liquor cabinet and poured himself a double shot. When he turned around, Hannah was sitting in front of the fireplace, her hands folded in her lap. His disloyal dog was contentedly sprawled across her feet. So much for man’s best friend.
Jackson sat in the club chair opposite her. He stared into the fire, the cool crystal cradled in the palm of his hand, a contrast to the heat that raged through him. He took another drink and then spoke. “So, you’re a social worker.”
She nodded, turning her eyes away from the crackling flames to meet his. He read her expression easily and it made his tight muscles ease slightly. His gut told him that Hannah wasn’t a liar. Unfortunately for her, he wasn’t in the mood to mince words.
“I can’t stand social workers.”
He wasn’t sure how she was going to respond to that one. A few seconds later she broke the silence. “So that means you’ve been let down by the system.”
She obviously knew about his childhood. Yeah, he’d been let down. Abandoned. He didn’t bother looking at her. “Every social worker that has ever come my way was completely useless to me. Full of empty promises and false hope. Hope is the last thing you give to kids who have nothing.” The first time he told someone about the demented man who called himself a father he’d actually thought they might ge
t help. Not for himself. If it were up to him he would have left, but his sister had refused to leave their home. So he stuck around for her. They lived in a dark, miserable hole of a house that reflected their father’s state of mind. That man that had the power to strike terror with one look, to rule over them like a dictator, had destroyed his sister. But not him. Jackson had shut himself off emotionally, and then he grew. He grew taller and stronger until father and son stood nose to nose and the man that once thought he was so mighty learned to put his fists back in his pocket.
Hannah’s soft, melodic voice clashed like lightning against the violence of his thoughts. “I know you don’t know anything about me. This is a horrible way for me to approach you. I’m sorry that this is bringing you so much pain—”
“This is not bringing me pain.” He hated that she was reading him, hated that she was right.
“You have to believe that I had the best of intentions. I had no choice. I risked everything to come here.” Her words came out quickly and she sounded almost frantic, probably because she was scared he’d kick her out.
He took another sip of the whiskey and met her gaze. She was gutsy. He ignored the sheen in her eyes, the concern that he read in them. He didn’t want to feel her compassion. He clenched his teeth against it, as though he could make himself immune to it, but there was no going back now. She had trudged in here and hauled him back to a past he’d tried to forget. He’d deal with this now and then send her and the baby packing in the morning. He could deal with one tiny social worker and a baby and then go back to his scheduled life. He had his dog and his business. What else did he need?
He leaned forward in his chair, his forearms on his thighs, the cool, smooth crystal of the glass cupped tightly in his hands. “Why don’t you tell me exactly why you are here?”
The Billionaire's Christmas Baby Page 3
