Snowflake Kisses (2 page)

“Do you take your tea plain?”

“Yes, please.”

Moments later her fingertips curved around a ceramic mug featuring the iconic scrawl of the Harrods logo. Blessed warmth moved through her hands and up her arms. Jackson sat next to her and propped his elbows on his knees. Leaning forward, he looked into her eyes while she tried to organize her thoughts into words that would explain what had taken place.

“The Countess of Willembaech rang my mobile this morning,” Vanessa began, orange and spice scent tickling her nose on curves of steam from her cup. “She was desperate for a shopping consult. She's a regular of The Penthouse, not to mention a wonderful client whom I adore, so I was happy to oblige. My regard for her is the only reason I carried the purchases to her car personally rather than assigning the task to a courier. Dawn was running late, and I wanted to be sure she was settled properly.” Vanessa's lips trembled. “I also wanted to wish her a happy Christmas before she left.”

“So she was bringing the car around?”

Vanessa nodded at Jackson's prompt. His presence made it easier to avoid the way the gathered officials scribbled and tapped notes into electronic devices, visibly hanging on her every word. “Yes. I had no idea we were being watched.” Vanessa's words wavered. “The man who accosted me had been prowling through the store; he said he had been watching me with my royal clients. How a man like that could have gotten anywhere near The Penthouse is beyond comprehension.” Vanessa shuddered. “I'm sure he wanted nothing to do with me.”

“This is horrible—and I'll certainly explore the incident to its fullest.” A representative of department store security stepped forward, stuffing a notepad and pen into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. “The problem is, until someone actually presents a threat, they're free to go where they wish within the store.”

“So you took the countess's purchases to the front entrance.” Jackson spoke up. “You walked outside, and that's when he grabbed you?”

Peter released a low, mild curse. He scowled, too, although he rested a stabilizing hand against Vanessa's shoulder. She nodded and gladly took hold of his fingertips to absorb a bit of comfort. “I walked outside, scanned the line of cars in front of the store, and before I knew it, I was shoved forward and thrown against a parked, running car. He told me to dump the merchandise inside.”

“Did he threaten you in any other way?”

The police officer's question prompted a chill of goose flesh to dance against her arms. “Yes, but I think he wanted to intimidate me more than anything else. I have no doubt his goal was the merchandise.” She peered at Jackson. “That's when Mr. Merritt here made his valiant debut. I'm more grateful than I can ever say.”

A spot of ruddy color came to life against his cheeks. He ducked his head and shrugged. Charmed and fascinated, Vanessa watched him as the policeman shifted his emphasis to Jackson and asked, “What was it that tipped you off, sir?”

“I happened by just as the thief spoke somewhat loudly. I heard him tell her to toss the bags, and I could tell his tone was threatening. It only took a second or two to realize Miss Colby was in trouble, so I stepped in.”

“Thank God,” Peter interjected.

Vanessa nodded. “And Mr. Merritt is being far too modest about the fact that he possesses faultless instincts and observational skills.”

“He's also too modest to explain that he took the man out with a double blow to the shoulders that left our would-be-thief flat and unconscious. I didn't realize until today that he's black belt trained.”

Vanessa's head snapped around following Peter's added details. Her brother nodded in answer to her unspoken surprise. “He's ace, and heaven knows I'll be minding my step around him in the future.”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “C'mon. Enough. I was in the right place to be of assistance; that's all.”

His quiet humility enveloped her, but so did an increasing sense of curiosity. Black belt trained? Wow.

“I'm so sorry to seem rude when I most certainly owe you an enormous debt of gratitude, but, who
are
you exactly?”

Peter's rolling rumble of laughter filled the air. “Jackson is the Chief Operating Officer of Colby Intellilink, North America.” Peter pulled a small chair forward and positioned it next to Vanessa. “He runs the ship in the States, and I get all the credit, so matters work out quite nicely in that regard.” The two men laughed and bumped fists. “Jackson is a mastermind of all things info-tech. I couldn't manage abroad without him.”

Sheepish, Vanessa rubbed her temples. She had completely forgotten about this part of Peter's trip home from America. “Sorry. That's right; you told me the head of American operations would be accompanying you home for the holidays. I'm afraid I'm way too distracted.”

“Completely understandable.”

Jackson's assurance eased her nerves. Vanessa folded her arms tight against her midsection. Her purple wool skirt was askew. Her white silk shirt was un-tucked and sloppily aligned. Brows furrowed, she also realized she had no idea what had become of her shawl…the cashmere piece was one of her favorites.

As though reading her mind, Jackson reached behind Vanessa's back and unfolded the lavender garment, settling it around her shoulders. “You look a little chilled.” The kindness of his tone, the gentle way he squeezed her arm, sent a zing of pleasure through Vanessa's body.

So, this was the
Wunderkind
about whom Peter had been singing praises for several months now. Her brother had been eager to show this man the CI Worldwide Headquarters in London and expose him to the company's UK operations. What an introduction.

“Peter tempted me to leave behind the sunny skies and warm temperatures of California by telling me how fantastic London is at Christmas.”

Vanessa sipped her tea then grinned. “That trick has worked in the past you know. Painting poetic pictures of London during the holidays nabbed him a perfectly fabulous wife.” With that thought, a whole new set of questions bloomed through Vanessa's head and heart. “By the way, where's our Lexie?”

“Alexa is waiting for us at the apartment, with Christopher, who's dealing with a bout of colic that has us both ready to run for cover.” Peter snickered and flicked at a wave of hair that had tumbled over Vanessa's shoulder. “This should prove to be an interesting mix: my faultlessly styled socialite sister, a temperamental infant, and my beloved, sleep-deprived wife.”

“Who happens to be my best friend as well as a divine sister-in-law. You underestimate me, as usual.”

Vanessa quirked her lips and sent her brother a goading look. Oh, but it felt good to have her moxie rise into place again. She slanted a look toward Jackson. “So then, the IT upgrade Colby Intellilink is orchestrating for Harrods has nothing to do with my baby brother luring you to London?”

“That opportunity might have weighed into my decision to hop the pond. Peter's your baby brother? I thought you were twins.”

She narrowed her eyes in mischievous challenge. “I'm older by two minutes. Two minutes twenty seconds, to make matters precise.”

“And you'll quickly learn, Jackson, my sister is nothing if not precise.”

Jackson blinked a few times and stared as though taking her in by slow, careful degrees. She could have sworn a bit more of that appealing red color crested against his perfectly formed features.

“I consider myself warned. Additionally, it seems there's nothing wrong with her mental acuity.”

He squirmed, which stirred her heart and left warmth to bloom like flower petals.

He cleared his throat. “So, now that we've achieved crisis containment, let's see if we can't get you home so you can recover.”

“Fortunately, there's not much to recover from, thanks to you, Mr. Merritt. And, frankly, I don't know nearly enough about you. I look forward to rectifying that issue promptly.”

Something shy and reserved vibrated from him, and at the same time, she watched shutters fall slowly over his eyes. Vanessa wondered. Was the change due to her subtle display of feminine interest? Had she set him off in some unknown way?

“I prefer Jackson, and I'll tell you what. You've seen me at my best, Miss Colby. You're grateful, and I appreciate that. If you're still interested in discovering my particulars after you get to know me and discover how boring I actually am, we can discuss things further. Deal?”

Vanessa arched a brow and held out her hand. “I prefer Vannie—and we most definitely have a deal. Furthermore, I dare say you can count on those upcoming discussions.”

Her smile increased when it took him an extra beat to accept the gesture of her handshake, but the touch of his skin sliding against hers, his fingertips holding firm, was well worth the wait.

 

 

 

 

2

 

Jackson peeled off his jacket upon entering his suite at the Bentley Hotel. Next, he unbuttoned his vest and loosened his tie. Oh, what a relief. Tossing the suit coat across the back of a chair, he let out a savoring exclamation as he continued toward comfort by releasing the stranglehold of his shirt collar.

What a day, and welcome to London,
he thought. For now he sidelined the idea of unpacking the suitcase which stood like a mean taunt next to the mirrored doors of a closet. Instead, he took a moment to familiarize himself with the space that would be his home for the next couple of weeks. There hadn't been time for exploration after landing and check-in. His excitement about gaining greater familiarity with the UK headquarters of Colby Intellilink and connecting with Peter Colby had overridden all else. The Harrods project that had come to life was a Godsend—meaty and intensive from the standpoint of IT set up. The assignment might also mean an extended stay in Great Britain. Given recent personal circumstances, that was fine by him. He couldn't wait to dive in.

Everything about his surroundings struck Jackson as lush and inviting—but he was dead on his feet, depleted of what little adrenaline remained following tonight's unexpected rescue mission.

The image of Vanessa Colby overtook his mind—and his heart—and he ground out a sigh. What an incredible woman. The unbidden thought became a flashpoint that left him to clench his jaw. He didn't need incredible women. Not after…

Vanessa's image dawned all over again, doing battle against a heart blockade that over the span of the past few months had become as familiar to Jackson as his own skin. Vanessa's fair face was framed by long waves of reddish brown hair. A tall, slender figure was tailor-made for the high-end fashion world she inhabited. That made sense, since she was a personal shopper and consultant at The Penthouse—the most exclusive purchasing arena at Harrods. He recalled deep green eyes, high cheekbones, a full, absolutely kissable mouth—

Jackson shook his head hard, stopping that thought right in its tracks. He quickly worked free of attraction.

Fists planted on his hips, he resumed a survey of the room. Peter Colby had been typically generous in seeing to top-rate accommodations. Jackson's suite featured a spacious and graciously appointed sitting area, complete with a mahogany writing desk he spied like a hungry man at a feast. That's what he needed—a spot where he could work. He needed a computer lifeline, something he understood, especially after the day's unsettling conclusion. Overtired as he was, a quick check of work matters would help him wind down and provide a comfort zone, a faultless and dependable companion. Computers he understood. Connections from A to B he understood. Such matters were clear and direct. Women like the chic and vivacious Vanessa Colby? Not by miles.

Time had proven that out, with disastrous results.

Releasing a hum of frustration, Jackson paced from the marble entryway, his footfalls cushioned by plush white carpeting as he crossed into the living area of the suite. He didn't need the crushing pain of bitter memories. He didn't need to focus on the exquisite charms of Vanessa, either. Instead, he grabbed his laptop from inside its leather carrier and pulled an adapter from the front pocket. He set up his equipment at the desk which was positioned before a wide, curtained window. He sat and pushed back the sheer. From four flights above, he admired the evening view of Harrington Gardens, a quaint, narrow street of Knightsbridge. The Bentley was located scant blocks from corporate headquarters, and his location was only a few miles away from Peter's apartment.

The apartment, Jackson had been told, was space Peter shared with Vanessa while dividing his time between Los Angeles and London.

Vanessa.
Again. He punched the
POWER
button and steeled his shoulders, trying desperately to refuse the way his heart reacted to the woman. While the computer chimed and hummed into action, he studied the motion of automobile traffic and people on the street below. For a few mind-soothing moments, he allowed himself to be transfixed by the image of multi-colored Christmas lights and evergreen swags that curved and swung above the road. Ancient brick store fronts with windows ablaze were further illuminated by pools of soft light that came from street lamps decorated by thick, red bows. Jackson's heart flexed tight when he happened to spy the minute figure of a man and woman sharing an embrace and an elongated, passionate kiss just outside the colonnaded entryway of the hotel. A sardonic mood stirred his lips into a curve. Just as Peter had promised, London seemed a magical place to visit at Christmas.

Except when you're alone,
Jackson thought.
Like me. Because of…

Nasty, unwelcome thoughts invaded his mind and poked at him, prompting him to move away from the enticing romance of the street scene below. He grabbed the laptop and settled instead onto an easy chair, complete with footstool, where he kicked up comfortably with no view but the gray and white walls of his hotel space. Now able to focus, he logged into his company e-mail account and plowed through the latest missives.