He awkwardly cradled Emily in his arms. Was he smiling at her? Was he choked up with emotion?
Jackson looked up as soon as she approached his side and for a second she could have sworn she saw something warm in his expression. But then he handed Emily off to her and strode out of the room without saying anything.
Hannah stared into Emily’s wide blue eyes. So much for her plan.
…
Jackson told himself that all babies were cute. Emily was not a special baby. Human adults were biologically programmed to respond to babies. It was how the human race propagated. His wanting to keep holding the baby was only natural. And the connection he felt when he stared into those wide, curious eyes was completely ridiculous. That was that. A figment of his imagination. He needed to get down to work and count the hours until Hannah and his… the baby left.
He settled himself at the table in the great room and opened his laptop and briefcase. He came out here every year not to escape work, because he loved work and he loved the company he’d built with his best friend. No, he came out here to escape a season filled with year after year of bad memories. Here, there was no pressure to act like Christmas meant something more to him than any other day on the calendar. Until, of course, Hannah came crashing into his world.
He pretended to be deep in concentration at his computer an hour later when he heard Hannah enter the room. She had that giant bag that looked ready to burst with books sitting on her shoulder along with a fresh mug of coffee. He ignored the smell of lavender as she passed him to sit at the opposite end of the table.
“I hope you don’t mind if I sit here. I put Emily down for a nap so I’d like to try and catch up on some work,” she said, placing her bag on the table.
“Not at all,” he said and looked back at his computer screen.
“She downed that bottle super fast,” she said with a laugh. “She’s always ravenous after a bath.” He gave her a polite nod. He was not going to engage her in a discussion about babies. He concentrated on the spreadsheet on his computer screen, pleased that she finally took the hint that he didn’t want to talk anymore.
Ten minutes later he tried to ignore the humming coming from across the table. Sounded something like jingle bells, slightly more than off-tune. He looked up with an exaggerated sigh. She didn’t get the hint as she started tapping her foot in time with her humming. She highlighted something from a book.
“What are you working on?”
She looked up from her book, obviously startled. “Oh, I’m studying.”
He frowned. “For what?”
She bent her head again. “My PhD.”
“PhD?”
She nodded.
“In social work?”
“No. Psychology.” She took a sip of coffee then bent her head back in her book. He stared at the top of her head as she resumed her Christmas humming. He tried not to be impressed by her, but dammit, the more he learned about this woman the more he was intrigued by her and attracted to her. It was damn inconvenient.
“Why are you getting a degree in psychology?”
“Well, next year when I save enough money, I’d like to finish my degree and then ultimately I’d like to be a child psychologist.”
He didn’t say a thing as he stared at the gorgeous woman across the table. Run, Jackson, run far away. She was beautiful, sweet, and smart. It was a hell of a combination. The women he dated were not nearly as dangerous as Hannah.
“Do you have any Christmas CDs?” Hannah stared at him from across the table, seemingly oblivious to his thoughts.
“Christmas?” Her preoccupation with all things Christmas wasn’t the least bit attractive.
He rolled his eyes at her theatrical intake of breath, her hand flying to her chest. He refused to glance down at her chest again, knowing exactly where those thoughts would lead.
“Not even one?”
He smiled smugly. “Nope.”
“I should have known,” she said into her mug before she took a sip.
“Really? What gave it away?” He enjoyed talking to her way too much. For the first time in a long, long time, he felt like enjoying someone’s company and not doing work. For the last ten years, he’d lived and breathed his company. He went to bed at night, sometimes with a woman by his side, sometimes alone, but always with work on his mind. When he wasn’t working he thought about work. He hated holidays because it meant business couldn’t be done. Work had been his salvation. Work was everything. But right now he could allow himself a brief respite with a beautiful, intriguing woman, couldn’t he?
“I knew last night that anyone who didn’t have a single decoration up must be a miserable, Ebenezer Scrooge type of person,” she said jabbing her highlighter in the air at his direction.
A choked laugh escaped his lips. “Really, so because I don’t have decorations you’ve come to the conclusion that I’m miserable and like Scrooge?”
She raised her eyebrows and folded her arms across her chest. “Then your subsequent behavior confirmed my hypothesis.”
“That again. I already explained my behavior.”
“Nothing you can say can excuse that behavior, Jackson. But not to worry, I understand that there are people in the world who are untouched by the spirit of Christmas—”
“Do you get commission from Santa Claus?” Jackson felt a smile spread across his face as she frowned at him.
“It happens to be my favorite holiday, that’s all.”
“Hannah, Christmas, as it exists in North America, is a commercially driven holiday. We’re told we need to spend hundreds or thousands of dollars on loved ones in order to show we care. People tack on thousands in consumer debt and justify it by saying they have to for Christmas. I mean look at you, you’re equating Christmas with something you need to buy—like a CD—with having Christmas spirit.” He figured his high-handed tone was not at all appreciated when her frown turned into a glare. She didn’t answer as she looked down into her book. He was surprised by the disappointment he felt when she didn’t engage him anymore. He pretended to focus on the spreadsheet that didn’t interest him at all.
Hannah’s voice interrupted the silence a few seconds later and he ignored the surge of happiness he felt.
“Would you mind if I had a look at your stereo?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Be my guest.”
She rose and walked over to the entertainment center. He let his eyes wander over her very enticing figure in the form fitting jeans she wore. If she could ease up on the holiday stuff and not mention his family again, they might even make it out of here tomorrow without an argument.
A moment later the sound of Bing Crosby’s cheerful voice permeated the room, and White Christmas filled the cabin. Hannah sat across from him. Her green eyes sparkled and her smile was infectious. “Public broadcasting,” she said smugly, picking up her BlackBerry.
He threw back his head and laughed.
She had put on small tortoise-shell rimmed glasses. He found them inexplicably attractive. “I tried it a few times and can’t get a signal,” she said, scrolling with her thumb.
“Yeah, mine’s gone too.”
She looked up at him, worry all over her face. “Is your land line working?”
He shook his head. “Gone when I woke up.”
She bit on her lower lip, but nodded.
“I might have to get some firewood from the shed in case the power goes out for a while.”
“Does that usually happen?”
“It’s pretty typical for around here, but the power usually comes on within a day or so. I have more than enough wood in case that happens.” He wanted her to feel safe and he didn’t care to analyze why that was suddenly so important.
He was rewarded by a relieved smile tossed his way before she ducked her head back into her book. He didn’t want the conversation to end.
“So what made you go into social work?”
She didn’t answer him right away, almost as though she
was carefully choosing her words before she looked up. “I knew I wanted to go into a profession that would help children, mostly because children can’t help themselves. We live in a crazy world and they need someone to defend them and make sure they’re safe.”
Jackson swallowed hard as she stared him directly in the eye across the table. “Must be hard work.”
“If I can make a difference in someone’s life, then it’s worth it.”
“So why do you want to leave?”
She took a deep breath. “I chose this career for the kids. I hadn’t counted on the bureaucracy, the constant red tape that is always holding me back from doing what I think needs to be done.”
“So I’m guessing you coming up here and tracking down a man who changed his name and trying to force me to adopt my niece isn’t exactly the way things are done down at the child services bureau?” He didn’t mean for that bite to enter his voice, and he obviously wasn’t the only one who heard it. A flush, one that he found attractive even though he knew it was there because she was insulted, infused her face.
“I’d do anything to help a child, especially a baby. Besides, I’m doing what I should—the baby’s mother asked me to find you.”
He knew when to back down from an irate woman, and right now Hannah looked like she was ready to jump across the table and hit him. And he also knew she wouldn’t appreciate knowing how cute she looked when she was angry. He admired her passion, and couldn’t help but wonder if it extended itself to the bedroom. Okay…it looked like he was going to be battling that thought all day.
He held up his hands in surrender. She settled back into her chair, her posture not quite so rigid. “I don’t have anything to lose, no one except the kids depend on me, so I don’t care what bridges I burn to get the job done.”
There was something in that statement, uttered so matter-of-factly, that irked him. She made it sound like all she had was her job, that she had no one else. As much as he resented why she was here, he couldn’t deny the fact that she impressed him. A woman like her shouldn’t be alone. She should have more than just the kids she helped through her job, more than her career.
Her head was back in her book, and after a few minutes of staring at his darkened computer screen he figured it out. They were very alike. He didn’t have anyone worth caring about, and his job, his company was everything to him. He wasn’t willing to let anyone come between his work and him—including a baby. He clenched his teeth, because it started to sound wrong, this line of thinking. He scowled at his computer. Before she crashed his escape-Christmas bash his world had been easy. Black and white. Now all this damn color trickled through. And Hannah. He didn’t want to like her. He didn’t want her to intrigue him.
…
Hannah tore the zipper of her purse open, acutely aware that Jackson wandered around the room. She wasn’t going to get any studying done. So she looked for her favorite book to settle in front of the fire with. She looked up when she heard a rough sigh.
“What’s this?”
“What’s what?” She looked down to see that one of her books had fallen out of her bag and was now in Jackson’s large, tanned hands.
She snatched it. Or tried to snatch it. “Let go.”
He moved back a step, taking the book with him. She felt her cheeks ignite like a torch. He flipped it over and began to read the back blurb. The book was her favorite holiday read, but it was as personal to her as her past. Books had gotten her through many years of loneliness. They kept dreams alive inside her soul and taught her of love that always seemed so far from her reach. And until this moment she’d been glad it was with her. Ever since she could read, she was never without a book, especially at night, when all the disappointments haunted her mind as she tried to fall asleep. She’d huddle down under threadbare covers, in a room that never truly felt safe, and let herself be carried away to places where dreams actually came true. The words in her books would drown out the endless voices in whatever home she lived in. Her one drab red suitcase was filled with favorite books, each promising her an escape from her real life and she brought it with her to every home.
Seeing the book in Jackson’s hand bothered her. It was too personal. She tugged at the book again. She thought she spotted the corner of his mouth twitch with a hint of a smile. She placed her hands on her hips and used her sternest voice. “Give me back the book.”
He lifted his head. “Romance, huh? I wouldn’t have you pegged as a romance reader.”
She narrowed her eyes. “That happens to be one of my all-time favorite books, so if you’ll excuse me.” She grabbed the book from his hand. “I’d like to put it back in my bag.”
He held up his hands and grinned boyishly, with an expression completely at odds with the angry, standoffish man that she was getting used to.
“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
She frowned at him. The way he said it made it perfectly clear that he thought she should be very, very embarrassed. “You should probably read that book and take a few pointers on how to act with a woman.” She couldn’t believe she’d said that aloud.
He threw back his head and laughed.
She fought the urge to smile that gripped her out of nowhere. But it was tough, because his laugh was deep and a little throaty and a whole lot sexy. It transformed him.
He stopped laughing, but his smile remained, his perfect white teeth gleaming. “Really? So you think I’m lacking in the skills necessary to attract a woman?”
She crossed her arms in front of her. “Well, you did slam a door in my face.”
He stopped smiling. “I did not slam it. I closed it.”
“Twice. You slammed it twice,” she said holding up two wiggling fingers.
He scowled at her and jammed his fists into his pockets.
“And then you yelled in my face, using your height and… er… largeness to intimidate me.”
“I was not trying to intimidate you.”
“And left me out in a blizzard.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and then looked up at the ceiling. She could swear he counted to ten silently. “I came after you.”
“And then let me fall because you had to hold the windshield scraper.”
His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched and unclenched. “I was not trying to hold the scraper, I was trying to convince you to come inside.”
“And ruined all my Christmas cookies.”
“I helped you pick them up. I had no idea there were cookies in that tin.”
“Whatever, Jackson, you definitely don’t know how to treat a lady.” She grabbed her bag and dropped the book back in. There was a power and energy that emanated from him that was impossible to ignore.
“Hannah, if you weren’t connected to my family, there would be no doubt in your mind that I know how to treat a lady.”
She knew her neck and face were red. Jackson was obviously the type of man who would have no trouble attracting women, but hearing the words come out of his mouth made it sound delicious, decadent.
“Nice line.” She kept yanking at the zipper of her bag, wishing it would close.
She ignored him and what sounded like a muffled laugh. She needed to get this visit back on track. She needed him to be with Emily, to get him to slowly melt towards his adorable niece. Somehow, in the next twenty-four hours, she needed to break down Jackson Pierce’s seemingly impenetrable walls… bells. She heard bells. Hannah looked up at Jackson who was still staring at her.
“Did you hear that?”
He shook his head. “Hear what?”
“Bells!” Hannah squealed, as they jingled again.
“Bells?”
She nodded and ran passed him to the window. Hannah inhaled sharply as a sleigh driven by two horses pulled up in front of the house. And the driver of the sleigh, well…
“Jackson?” she whispered with disbelief over her shoulder. “I think Mr. and Mrs. Claus are here.”
“You expect me to believe th
at Santa and his wife are trolling around my front yard?” he asked, joining her at the window.
“They aren’t trolling”
“Oh, God,” he whispered, his face going white as he stared through the glass. Finally she had gotten through to him! Hannah ran to the door, but he beat her to it and blocked it. Arms crossed and giant frown across that handsome face did nothing to sway her determination.
Hannah tapped her foot. “I’m letting them in.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am,” she said, trying to push him to the side. All that hard muscle didn’t budge an inch. He just let out an irritated sigh. She stepped back and glared at him. “You can’t honestly deny them entry!”
“It’s not Santa,” Jackson groaned, rubbing his temples.
“Well, who is it?”
“It’s my crazy neighbors from down the street,” he said, his voice sounding strained as the jingling grew louder.
“The house with all the decorations?” Hannah asked, thinking of the little cottage she’d driven past last night. It had been lit and decorated with such care that Hannah had slowed her car for a second to admire the lights.
Jackson nodded, his face grim. “That’s the one.”
They both jumped at the exuberant knock.
Hannah smiled up at him.
Jackson closed his eyes and mumbled something under his breath, turning around to open the door. A gust of arctic wind and a blast of boisterous bells greeted them.
Chapter Six
Hannah poured the Sampsons a second cup of coffee, listening with delight to their tale about the time they rescued a squirrel in a blizzard. Jackson was sprawled on the couch next to her, his legs crossed at the ankles, looking bored out of his mind. He caught her eye and held up a finger to his temple, pretending to pull the imaginary trigger with his thumb. Hannah frowned disapprovingly at him. How could he not like this couple?
The Billionaire's Christmas Baby Page 6
