A Winter's Rose (6 page)

She let out a long breath. “Jackson, I just don't think—”

“Ta da!”

Bentley and Jackson swiveled toward Chloe. She stood at the top of the stairs, wearing pink denim straight legs with a matching rhinestone-studded jacket.

“What do you think?” she asked, posing. Jackson whistled. “Pretty swell duds for dinner with your old man.”

“Well…” She started down the stairs. “I wanted to talk to you about that. You know the radio station that plays all the hits all the time?” Jackson lifted his eyebrows, and she rushed on. “Well, they're hosting a beach party, right there at Tony's. Isn't that great? They're going to have a band and drawings for free records and—”

“No.”

“But, Daddy, we're going to be right there!” She batted her eyelashes. “I'll be perfectly safe, and Randa and Billie are going to be there, too. Please?”

Jackson hesitated, and Chloe looked imploringly at Bentley. “You'll help him watch me, won't you, Bentley? You'll be able to see me from the restaurant, and I promise I won't leave your sight or talk to any weirdos or anything.” She looked at Jackson. “Can I go, Daddy?”

“Bentley hasn't said whether she's coming yet.” Jackson looked from his daughter to Bentley. “Are you?”

“Please, Bentley!”

He'd cornered her, the rat. She sent him a withering look, then turned to Chloe. “All right, I'll come.”

With a squeal, Chloe raced for the front door.

Chapter Four

T
ony's restaurant was located along the ten-mile seawall that protected Galveston Island from the Gulf of Mexico. Built on a pier that jutted out over the beach and into the Gulf, Tony's wasn't much more than a burger joint with a great view.

After her first look at the place, Bentley had considered not eating. But now, after consuming half of the biggest, best-tasting hamburger she'd ever had, she understood why Jackson and Chloe had chuckled at her apprehension.

Bentley didn't know whether it had been the incredible food or the laid-back atmosphere that had affected her nervous system, but at that moment she was dangerously relaxed. Pushing her plate away, she made a sound that was part pleasure, part pain. “Delicious.”

Jackson dragged his gaze away from the window and the beach party in progress below. “Told you so.” He eyed her plate, amused. “You did a pretty good job on that sandwich, Princess.”

She arched her eyebrows. “A gentleman never comments on what a lady eats. It's unseemly.” She moved her gaze lazily over him. “But then you, sir, are no gentleman.”

Jackson laughed again and held up his hands. “Guilty as charged. Although my mother did her best to instill in us some of the southern code, she was, I'm afraid, outnumbered. Five sons and a husband who had about as much need for cloth napkins and finger bowls as he did for suits and ties.”

“Four brothers?” Bentley repeated, incredulous. “Are they as big and mulish as you are?”

He grinned. “Bigger and more mulish.”

Bentley fanned herself as if overcome by the vapors. “The poor woman.”

Jackson eased back in his chair, a smile pulling at his mouth. “That poor woman kept all five of us in line.” He shook his head. “She's not much better than five feet tall and speaks with the softest little drawl. The softer that drawl got, the bigger the trouble we were in.”

His eyes alight with amusement, Jackson leaned toward Bentley. “Mama would say, `Jackson, darlin', you were brought up better than that, now weren't you?' Of course, by then I always knew I was in big trouble, partly because of the drawl and partly because of the way she was slapping her wooden spoon against her palm. So I would just nod and say, `Yes, ma'am,' as pretty as I could. Of course, manners that late in the game never did any good, but I always hoped.”

Bentley laughed. “You're teasing me.”

He held up his right hand. “This is the God's truth. Anyway, then she would say to me, sweet as molasses, `Now, honey, you go apologize to Miss Leigh-Anne and her mama, then you come on back here for your punishment.'” He laughed. “She broke that spoon over my backside more than once.”

“I don't doubt you deserved it.”

“Oh, I did. I was bad.” He cocked his head. “Although my brothers were worse.”

“Worse?” Bentley smiled, charmed by the picture he'd painted of his family. And envious. Her childhood had been so regimented and elegant, so…lonely. She took a sip of her tea, swallowing past the lump in her throat. “Are these bad brothers of yours all grown?”

“With kids of their own. Two are shrimpers like Daddy. Bobby's a lawyer and Lee's career Navy.” He glanced out the window, spotted Chloe, then turned to Bentley. “What about your family? Any brothers?
Sisters?”

Bentley tightened her fingers on her glass, thinking of the ever-present comparisons between her and her siblings. “Two brothers. They're just like Daddy. Wildly successful. Busy.” She carefully set aside her drink, then dropped her hands to her lap. “Both are considerably older than I am, and by the time I was in grammar school, they were away at academy.”

For long moments, Jackson studied her. His eyes were the light, clear blue of an early morning sky, his gaze uncomfortably direct. She had the feeling he saw things about her she preferred to keep secret.

Unnerved, she looked away. “It was the next best thing to being an only child.”

Jackson opened his mouth to comment, then shook his head as if deciding otherwise. Frowning, he looked toward the beach again. “I can't imagine having grown up without my brothers. Without any siblings. It certainly isn't what I wanted for Chloe.”

Bentley followed his glance. Chloe was on the beach, laughing with her girlfriends. As if sensing their scrutiny, she looked up and waved.

“She'll be fine,” Bentley murmured.

“Will she? I'm not so sure.”

He spoke from the heart, and Bentley felt a tug of sympathy. “I know.”

“She's a lot like her mother.” He drew his eyebrows together. “In every way.”

“Is that all bad?”

He turned to Bentley. “I think so.”

Bentley lowered her eyes. She didn't know the other woman, but from what she'd heard about her from Chloe, she had to agree. And from what she knew of Jackson, Victoria Ellerbee seemed like the last person he would fall for, let alone marry.

Bentley trailed her fingers over the battered vinyl tablecloth, stopping on a particularly deep scar. She ran a finger gently over it. “How did you meet Victoria Ellerbee? You couldn't have traveled in the same circles. And it doesn't sound as if Galveston was her idea of heaven on earth.”

“Through Baysafe.” Jackson laughed without humor and curled his hands around his coffee mug. “It's ironic, because she hated it so much.”

Remembering, Jackson looked down at the beach, making sure Chloe was still there, then met Bentley's eyes once more. “Ellerbee Oil was my first sponsor. There'd just been a major spill in the Bay, the damage was sickening. At the time of the spill, I was working with the Gulf Coast Marine Research Institute. We all pitched in to help with the clean-up operation. I was astounded to learn there wasn't an organization set up specifically to protect the Bay.”

“So, you started one.”

“Yeah.” Jackson lowered his gaze to his coffee and frowned. He shouldn't be sitting here talking with her like this, shouldn't be feeling so comfortable. He tightened his fingers around the mug. And he sure as hell shouldn't be thinking the thoughts about her that he was. Thoughts of him and her, of a cool, dark room and a big, soft bed.

Those kinds of thoughts had gotten him in trouble before. The kind of trouble a man couldn't turn his back on. The kind of trouble that followed him forever.

Annoyed with himself and his fertile imagination, Jackson continued. “I grew up here, on the Texas coast. My daddy instilled in me a reverence for the land and water, for her bounty, her magic. He always called it the work of the Lord, not man.”

Jackson made a sound of disgust. “He talked plenty about the work of man, too. When the shrimp weren't running, Daddy worked on the rigs. The violations he saw were a sin. The land and water were changing, man was changing them, right before our eyes.”

“I'm sorry,” Bentley murmured.

And she was. The truth of that kicked him squarely in the gut. Even though she wasn't responsible, even though she could give a thousand reasons why it wasn't her responsibility, she was taking blame anyway. Bentley Cunningham wasn't what he'd first thought her, not completely anyway.

Jackson swore silently. Of course she was. This was some sort of game, just like her wanting to work was a game. Right now she wanted something from him. He'd best remember that.

“Back then,” he continued, “oil was booming. We had an energy crisis, they said. Nobody thought much about what kind of damage the search for oil was doing. Big Oil could afford to throw some money my way. It made them look good. It paid my rent. It was an impossible situation, a double-edged sword, but back then it worked.”

“And now?”

“Now it's not working so well. Now people are aware of what's going on, and of how very fragile the earth is. Now we're making a difference, putting some heavy pressure on Oil and other industries that have always had free rein to do what they liked no matter the consequences.”

“And they don't like it,” she murmured. “They're pulling their donations.”

“Exactly.” He picked his coffee up, then set it down, memories tugging at him. “Anyway, I was Lee Ellerbee's pet of the moment. He liked to hold me up to the social set as a shining example of what he was doing for the great state of Texas. I met his daughter at a party.”

“You fell in love.”

Jackson laughed, the sound cynical. “Not exactly. Although I think at the time I considered myself in love.” He angled a glance at Bentley. “We fell in lust. She was the most beautiful, most exotic woman
I had ever known. Pampered. Elegant. There wasn't one place on her that wasn't smooth and soft and perfumed. Like she'd never even gotten her hands dirty.”

Jackson shifted his gaze to the beach. “Chloe looks like her.” Although the size of the crowd had increased, he found Chloe immediately. Her golden hair stood out like a beacon. His heart wrenched with a peculiar combination of love and regret.

“We married six months after we met,” he murmured, still gazing at his daughter. “I had no idea she expected me to give up Baysafe and work for her father. That all along she'd assumed I would.” He shook his head. “I was so stupid, I thought she understood and was proud of what I did. I had no idea she'd never even considered living on my salary. She laughed when I told her she should. She thought what I
did, how much I made, a joke. Anyway, she left and took Chloe with her. Chloe wasn't quite two.”

“I'm sorry.”

He brought his gaze to Bentley and shrugged. “It's in the past.”

“Is it?”

An ache in his gut, he looked down to where Chloe danced with her friends. For long moments he stared at her, then he shook his head. “No, I guess it's not. And it won't ever be. Some mistakes are irreversible.”

Bentley opened her mouth to speak; he stopped her. “I don't want to talk any more.” He caught her hand across the table. “Go to a party with me?”

“But—”

“Shh…” Even as he told himself it was madness, he curled his fingers around hers, stood and tugged gently on her hand. “Come on, Princess. No more talking. Let's go listen to the music and pretend we're fifteen again.”

He smiled, and Bentley's stomach crashed to her toes. The man did have a way with a smile. How could the simple curving of his lips make her pulse flutter and her knees weak? It ought to be impossible, illegal.

Even as she told herself to run as far and fast as she could, she got to her feet. “Fifteen's no good. I had to wear a retainer.”

He laughed. “Sixteen, then.”

“We'll cramp Chloe's style.”

“That's not a negative.”

Laughing, Bentley capitulated, and after paying the bill and collecting their coats, they walked down to the beach.

Instead of releasing her hand, Jackson laced his fingers with hers and as they walked, their joined hands swung between them. Bentley's pulse stirred, and she scolded herself for being an idiot. She wasn't sixteen and she couldn't allow herself to believe that this man was anything other than what she'd first thought. And she definitely couldn't allow herself to be drawn into his life or his problems.

Bentley caught her bottom lip between her teeth, acknowledging that she was too late for her own warnings and that she had a problem. A big one.

The music hit them in a throbbing wave; the energy from the teenagers hit them harder. In the midst of the party, it proved more difficult to find Chloe than from above, and when they finally did, she wasn't pleased.

“Daddy!” she exclaimed, shooting a mortified glance at her girlfriends. “What are you doing here?”

“Bentley and I decided to crash your party.” He grinned at her friends. “We're going to pretend we're sixteen.”

“Dad!”

Bentley noticed as a handful of boys standing nearby scattered. One seemed familiar, but when Bentley went to take a second look, he'd disappeared into the crowd.

“It was all his idea, Chloe.” Bentley laughed and held up her hands. “Really. I tried to talk him out of it.”

“Any of you girls want to dance with me? Ever heard of the twist?”

Chloe's cheeks flamed; her eyes filled. She looked like she wanted to die. Remembering the tenderness of that age, Bentley took pity on the girl and grabbed Jackson's arm. “Come on, Jackson,” she said, pulling him away. “You're embarrassing her silly.”

“Yeah, but did you see those guys take off?” He sent Bentley an amused glance. “They'll think twice before giving her the eye again.”

“You'll be lucky if she ever forgives you.”

Jackson's smile faded.
That was exactly what he was afraid of. What if she never forgave him for being such a lousy father?

He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Would you rather walk or sit?”

“Whichever you prefer.”

“Let's sit, then. I don't want to stray too far from the party.”

They chose a place far enough from the party not to be deafened by the music, but close enough to keep an eye on Chloe. Bundled in their coats they sat on the sand, and by unspoken mutual agreement, stared out at the dark water.

After a time Jackson cocked his head and studied Bentley's profile. Her beauty reminded him so much of Victoria's, even though they didn't resemble each other at all. The perfection of form and feature, the flawlessness of color and texture, were the same. It was a look, a perfection, that had to be coaxed and cultivated. Like a hothouse flower.

How could one not be sucked in by something that looked so soft and fragile, so beautiful? He knew better than to be fooled by appearances. And yet with Bentley…

Jackson stiffened, realizing where his thoughts were going. No. All he had to do was remember the lesson of the rose. Its beauty invited you in for a closer look, a caress. There, the thorn waited.

“Did you know,” Jackson asked suddenly, “that at one time Galveston was the capital of Texas?”