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 that 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?
“Oh, Hannah, what a delight you are, my dear. We’ve been cooped up for days with no one to speak to! We always worry about Jackson when he comes up to this cabin,” Mrs. Sampson said, tsking at Jackson. “It’s not healthy to be alone during the holidays. Do you know,” Mrs. Sampson said, dropping her voice to a feverish whisper and leaning forward, “it’s one of the most difficult times of year for many people?”