A Winter's Rose (12 page)

“Tell me, Bentley,” he said again, raining kisses over her face and neck. “Do you want to make love? We could go away for the day.” He smiled against her throat. “I have a sailboat…we could spend the day out on the Gulf. Making love with the breeze on our backs, the sun warming our faces.”

Bentley arched against him. “What about work?”

He laughed low in his throat, the sound husky and amused. “You've become so diligent. Jill can take care of the office and Chloe for another day without me.”

“But—”

“Uh-uh.” He nipped at her full bottom lip. “No buts. Only yes…and yes…and yes.”

Each word he uttered was punctuated with a kiss, and Bentley had to fight to concentrate on what she needed to say. She caught his hands and arched away from him. “Wait…Jackson…” She drew in a deep, steadying breath. “Jill won't be there.”

Jackson froze. “What?”

“That's one of the things I had to tell you.” Her voice trembled so badly, she had to pause to collect herself. “She's in the hospital. She had to have an emergency appendectomy.”

Concerned, he searched Bentley's expression. “My God, when did this happen? Is she all right?”

“The day you left. And she's fine.”

It took a moment for her words to register. When they did, Jackson loosened his hold on her. “The day I left?” he asked quietly.

“Mmm.” Bentley rested her forehead on his shoulder. “When we came into the office that first morning, Jill was so sick. We were so frightened for her. I thought—”

“Whoa.” He drew his eyebrows together. “Why didn't you call? Why haven't you mentioned this before now?”

He hadn't raised his voice; if anything it had become deeper, softer. Outwardly he gave no indication of anger. But his eyes had changed, cooled, his facial muscles had tightened. In a matter of moments, he had taken on the look of a predator.

A sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach, Bentley dropped her hands from his shoulders. “I thought we could take care of Baysafe by ourselves. I didn't think it necessary to bother you.”

“We as in you and Chloe?”

“Yes.” Bentley drew her eyebrows together confused and hurt by his sarcasm. She scooted off his lap, then self-consciously straightened her skirt. When she looked at him she was shocked to see the anger seething in his expression.

She folded her arms across her chest and jerked her chin up. “I…did some research, and I…think I've found one of your problems.”

“One of my problems?” he repeated furiously, standing.

“Yes.” Bentley followed him to his feet, nervously twisting her fingers in front of her. When she spoke, she worked to keep the hesitation from her voice. “I think…I mean, it looks to me, like you're too industry dependent. Especially the oil industry. And, as you're finding out, that's a dangerous position to be in. One unpopular issue, you lose your funding.”

He raked his gaze over her. “And you've found a solution to this problem?”

“Yes.” She narrowed her eyes at his tone, vacillating between the urge to hit him and convince him. “You've hardly tapped the social set. These people give tens of thousands of dollars to charities each year. There is no reason Baysafe shouldn't be getting a big piece of that pie. I made some calls and set up some lunches.”

For a full ten seconds, Jackson stared at her. Then he took a step toward her, something akin to violence in his eyes. “Baysafe is mine,” he said, his voice tightly controlled. “It's a living, breathing company. That company supports me and Chloe, it supports Jill. It's not a toy…it's not your toy.”

Bentley stiffened at the blow. “I never thought of it as a toy. Never. Why would you think that?”

Jackson turned and crossed to the window. For a moment he stood and stared out at the night, then he swung around, pinning her with his furious gaze. “I can't believe this. You know nothing about my business. Nothing. And yet you decide you're qualified not only to make a week's worth of decisions, but to evaluate my shortcomings, as well.”

“If you'd just listen.” Bentley clenched her hands into fists at her sides, suddenly so angry she shook with it. “Doesn't the accused get a trial around here? You haven't even bothered to ask
what
we accomplished. Or doesn't it matter?”

His expression told her everything, and she made a sound of pain and frustration. Swinging away from him, she started to gather up the articles spread over the couch.

“I don't care what you're trying to prove,” Jackson said softly from behind her. “I don't care who you're trying to prove it to. Baysafe is not a game. It's not some sort of test.”

The urge to hit him charged through her until she trembled with holding it back. Even after what they'd just shared, even after all she'd done for Chloe and Baysafe, he thought no more of her than the day she'd walked through his door. He still thought her worthless and spoiled.

What had happened between them a moment ago had been strictly sexual. Strictly physical. It had to do with how she looked, not who she was.

Hurt mingled with fury, just as the urge to run warred with the desire to stand her ground. Pushing away the hurt, the lifetime of self-doubts, Bentley turned slowly to face him. She lifted her chin. “I'm not a worthless princess, Jackson. And I won't let you, or anybody, treat me like one. Never again.”

She took a step closer to him, never taking her eyes from his. “Chloe and I did a great job. Not good—
great.
We…
I
expected your thanks. Your appreciation and respect. I deserve them.”

Bentley hiked her chin up a notch more as she realized she meant every word she said. “You know, what I did this week I did to impress you. To prove to you that I'm serious about working and that I am capable. But don't worry, I'll never try to prove anything to you again. Because it doesn't matter. Your opinion of me doesn't matter. Because, for once, I believe in myself.”

“Thanks?” he murmured, outraged. “Appreciation? That's rich. You involved my daughter—”

“Involved her in something that gave her a feeling of self-worth, of accomplishment.” Bentley took another step closer. Tears stung the backs of her eyes, and she fought against them. Jackson Reese, she told herself fiercely, was not worth crying over. His opinion was not worth a single one of her tears. And yet a part of her wished so desperately she could go back a matter of minutes, to the moment when he had looked at her as if she was everything wonderful.

Closing that part of herself off, she narrowed her eyes. “And as for your daughter, she blossomed this week. If you'd talked to her, you would know that.”

Blanching, Jackson took a step away from her. Instead of satisfaction, Bentley felt regret. “Jackson, I—”

She reached her hand out in apology. He looked at her hand, her offering, as if it was something loathsome, and her regret vanished.

She swept her hair away from her forehead with a quick, jerky motion. “You're so damn quick to point fingers. You couldn't wait to discredit me, could you? You've been waiting for an opportunity.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“Is it?” She snatched up her handbag. “I'm not so sure. I think maybe you feel more in control when you're convinced I'm the enemy. The problem is, it's getting harder for you to believe that. Isn't that right? Maybe I should even be flattered by all this.”

He was silent, and she crossed to the entryway closet and took out her coat. Not bothering to put it on, she turned to him. “When was the last time you told Chloe you loved her, Jackson? Don't you think maybe she needs to hear it once in a while?”

Jackson swore. “So, we're back to my parenting. Pretty clever way to shift the heat from yourself, Bentley. But then, I never said you weren't clever.”

“Damn you, Jackson Reese.” She drew in a sharp, angry breath and faced him as haughtily as the princess he accused her of being. “You know something? I can't wait for tomorrow morning, because you're going to feel like a first-class jerk. I almost wish I was going to see it. My bag's already in the car. Good night.”

* * *

The next morning Jackson stared out at the tangle of his garden. He'd showered, shaved and dressed, he'd had his first cup of coffee hours ago. He'd seen the sun creep over the horizon and into the sky, creating a day that was brilliant and mild. He wished he could feel as bright, as warmed. Instead, he felt dazed, still felt punch-drunk and raw.

He brought his coffee cup to his mouth, but didn't drink. He couldn't put the scene he'd had with Bentley out of his head. Not the passion they'd shared…or the anger. He lowered his cup, frowning. And he couldn't shake off the niggling sense that he'd overreacted. That his fury had had more to do with himself than with Bentley or anything she'd done.

He'd wanted to pick a fight. He'd wanted to push her as far away from him as fast as he could.

Ridiculous. He lifted the cup to his lips once more and downed the coffee, wincing at its heat. The issue was Baysafe. Not his feelings. Not his need for distance—

“Daddy!”

Jackson swung around, stared as his daughter came barreling down the stairs. His mouth dropped. Not only was she up and dressed, but she was smiling at him as if she was happy to see him. A sense of déjà vu, at once bitter and sweet, washed over him in a wave.

“Chloe, baby.” He swallowed past the lump in his throat and smiled. “I was getting ready to come up and wake you.”

She stopped in front of him and clasped her hands together, looking at him almost shyly. “I set the alarm.”

Set her alarm? Chloe?
Jackson wasn't quite sure what to say—since coming to live with him, she hadn't done that even once. He smiled again, awkwardly, and hugged her. “I…brought you something.”

“You did?” She beamed at him.

“Uh-huh. It's upstairs.”

“What is it?”

“Go get it and find out. It's on my dresser.”

Chloe raced up the stairs, then a moment later, raced down, ripping the gift open as she did. “Oh, Daddy,” she said, holding up the crystal, heart-shaped box. “It's so pretty.”

“Look inside.” She did, then squealed as she found the dainty porcelain earrings, also shaped like hearts. Hearts because she had his, he thought, watching as she slipped them into her ears.

He opened his mouth to tell her, then swallowed the words, feeling vulnerable and uncertain. “Do you like them?” he asked instead.

“Oh, yes.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“You're welcome—” Jackson realized he was about to call her princess and bit back the word.

Chloe didn't seem to notice. “Did you talk to Bentley?” she asked excitedly. “Did she tell you what we did?”

Several emotions hit him at once—anger, envy at the way his daughter glowed as she said Bentley's name, longing. It was the last that bothered him most. He worked to keep all of them from his voice.

“Yes. She told me.”

Chloe's face fell, and she took a step back from him. “Oh.”

Jackson muttered an oath. Strike number ten thousand and ten. How many did he get before he was out for good?

Pushing away panic, he put his arm around Chloe. “I hear you're becoming quite a little cook.”

Chloe tipped her head, excited again. “I really am. Did you try it? It was good.”

“No, but I—” Her smile faded, and Jackson kicked himself for his honesty—and his stupidity. “It was after two a.m. when I got in, sweetie. I'll eat some tonight.”

“Sure.” She stepped out of the curve of his arm. “If you want.”

“I do. I wouldn't miss it.” She didn't look at him, and Jackson flexed his fingers in frustration.
Couldn't he say anything right?
“How about breakfast out? My treat.”

Chloe shrugged, indifference firmly in place. “Whatever.”

They barely spoke through breakfast. Chloe picked at her food, refusing to be drawn out. Finally, on their way out of the diner, he brought up Jill.

Chloe looked up at him, eyes wide. “It was so scary! I've never seen anybody who was that sick. I thought she was dying or something.” Chloe scooped up a handful of the complimentary mints by the cash register. “Bentley took care of everything, though. She was real calm.” Chloe giggled. “Well, pretty calm. She had me get Jill a cloth for her forehead, then she called 911.”

Jackson held open the diner door for Chloe, once again fighting a wave of jealousy at his daughter's affection for Bentley. Holding his daughter's elbow, he steered her across the street to the building that housed Baysafe's offices.

“You should have seen those ambulance guys run in with a stretcher,” Chloe continued. “I was worried about Jill and all, but it was so neat. Just like that TV show—you know,
Call 911.
”

“Chloe,” Jackson asked quietly, “why didn't you call me?”

Even though he tried to sound nonjudgmental, Chloe paused and drew her eyebrows together in worried thought. “I wanted to,” she said finally, cautiously, giving her allegiance to Bentley. “But Bentley said we should surprise you. She said it would make you…happy.”

Fresh anger at Bentley surged through him, and he dug his keys from his pocket. That she'd involved Chloe in her recklessness was unforgivable.

He jammed the key into the lock, but before he could twist it, Chloe caught his arm. He met her eyes. “I'm sorry,” she whispered.

His chest tightened at the dampness in her blue eyes. “Why are you apologizing?”

“Because I can tell it didn't make you happy.”

Jackson's heart turned over, and he gave his daughter a quick, fierce hug. “Thank you.”

She sniffed. “For what?”

“Being so sweet.” He unlocked the office door, then held it open for Chloe.