Snowflake Kisses (7 page)

“Oh, not all of you.” Vanessa's ebullience transformed to a glower in the span of a pulse beat. She poured the steeped water into a waiting porcelain tea pot. “Take that business…
associate
…who tracked Jackson here from the States.”

“Ah, yes. The infamous Tamara. Heard all about her.” Alexa finished stacking scones on a china plate. Vanessa nabbed a stash of linen napkins from a drawer and added them to the tray Alexa had created. “She'll certainly make for interesting party dynamics, now won't she?”

“I suppose that's one way of putting it.”

“Speaking of the party, Peter's going to kill you, you know.”

“Which is of concern to me because why?” Unperturbed, Vanessa stretched to retrieve four cups from the corner hutch of the kitchen; she positioned them neatly next to the tea pot which steamed cheerily.

“Because when he sees the damage I did to the credit card during our Harrods spree this afternoon, he'll—”

“Oh, stuff it. As you Americans like to say, my employee discount rocks. Besides, when he catches sight of you in that red satin sheath, he'll be so busy eying you up, he'll have absolutely no time left for fretting the price tag.”

“Ha!
You
feel free to tell him that.”

“With pleasure.” Jutting her chin, bubbling with sass just itching to be released, Vanessa lifted her completed service and swept through the kitchen into the lounge.

What she came upon in the main gathering space nearly caused her to upend the tray she carried.

Dress slacks and all, Jackson sat on the floor, long legs stretched while he leaned on an elbow and cooed at baby Christopher. Jackson's suit coat had been removed and now hung along the back of a chair at the dining table. His tie was loose, and he had released the top button of his shirt collar. Christopher eyed him steadily, mouth glossy and pursed into the shape of a heart. A wide, cushy quilt was covered by toys which Jackson wiggled and jiggled in an effort to entice the gurgling infant. Vanessa stopped and stared, enchanted by the view of a man comfortably and tenderly engaged with a baby.

“You certainly have a way with little ones, Jackson.”

Alexa's compliment filled a void when Vanessa didn't move.

Jackson focused on the infant and snapped up a nearby rattle. He shook it to tempt a play session. “I'm an uncle three times over. There are twin boys who are two, and a four-year-old princess courtesy of my older sister Teresa.”

“How wonderful!” Alexa passed Vanessa and delivered a nudge just hard enough to rouse her from a delicious episode of man watching.

“I'd love to hear more about your family.”

Alexa settled her tray and Vanessa finally snapped to.

“Who's ready for some scones and tea?” The shift of emphasis helped Vanessa gain control, but amidst the onslaught of attraction, amidst the strength of her escalating feelings for the man, there was a road of discovery and mutual knowledge curving before them.

If they determined to find a way forward…

 

 

 

 

7

 

Vanessa trotted up the stairs leading from Knightsbridge Station. With well-honed ease, she wove past slower moving bodies, the thin, high heels of her fashion boots clicking in time to a racing heartbeat. She had just enough time to make it to work. Maybe.

Being tardy wasn't the reason for an escalated pulse. Peter and Jackson would be initiating the latest phase of the IT upgrade today by taking over the Penthouse. There, they would oversee fresh surveillance equipment along with the installation of a corporate-wide networking database. Thus, she had spent extra time primping. Not just for him, of course. After work tonight was the holiday party she had been looking forward to for ages, a Christmas soirée with twenty top clients in attendance along with a handful of select employees from Colby Intellilink. Festivities would feature a most wonderful treat: a private capsule ride on the London Eye complete with champagne, gourmet canapés and an unparalleled nighttime view of London from high in the sky.

Stepping into the gray-cast, snow-dusted world above the Knightsbridge tube exit, she whipped a dark purple pashmina around her body and dashed across Brompton Road toward wind-snapped awnings of green marked by gold lettering. Years of being employed by the world-class department store did nothing to diminish the thrill she felt when crossing its threshold. Especially this close to Christmas.

She dodged smoothly through the rush and press of shoppers, absorbing the soft chords of holiday music, the subtle undercurrent of evergreen in the air, the occasional chime and buzz of electronics. She made a dash for the ground floor computer hub, eager to touch base with Jackson before his work day began in earnest.

Turning a corner, she neared the threshold of his temporary digs at the store and her footsteps stuttered to a halt. Jackson stood before his desk, face-to-face with a petite, attractive woman of similar age. Her head was angled upward, eyes wide as her inviting gaze trained upon his.

“We need to talk, Jax, and you know it.” She spoke with a smooth, cultured accent born straight across the pond in America. “Please stop putting me off.”

The woman's hand rested upon his chest, flat and open. Their proximity might have spoken of intimacy until Vanessa registered the scowl that furrowed Jackson's brows and darkened his eyes. “Step back, Tamara. This is wholly inappropriate, and I'm not discussing personal issues with you right now. I have work to do, which you know. Furthermore—”

“I'll apologize if it makes things any easier. I am sorry for—”

“Tamara, I don't intend to discuss this right now.”

Giving herself an inner shake, Vanessa blinked, took in a breath and gathered herself against what she saw. So…she now had a visual to go along with her impressions of Tamara McKenna.

Vanessa backed away from the tableau. There was nothing to be gained by intrusion. She was by no stretch entitled to the reaction of a jealous girlfriend, and she knew more than enough about this vixen to step back and retrace her steps with calm aplomb.

Vanessa swept into an open lift. She punched the button for the fourth floor, moved to the rear wall, and folded her arms against her midsection while she pondered. None of this mattered. She knew Jackson's feelings about Tamara, and an honest think-through on her way to the Penthouse left her possessed by a startling reaction and revelation.

No envy or level of jealousy came to life. Instead, layers of sadness bloomed for Tamara and her desperate, misbegotten actions.

 

****

 

Absorbed by network synchronization issues and a beta test designed to insure all system backups functioned properly, Jackson knew he was running behind. After a successful network deploy, he shut down his computer and rushed to meet Peter at the main entrance of the store.

“Are we OK for time?” Jackson slid his arms into a long wool coat, bracing when they stepped outside into a brisk wind that smelled of coming snow.

“No problems. We'll hail a cab and meet Vannie at the pier. She's with Father, the two of them are acting as a welcoming committee, so we're fine.”

Belvedere Road, which skirted Jubilee Gardens, led Jackson and Peter to the London Eye Pier. They took a black cab from headquarters to the giant Ferris wheel-style structure which featured enormous transport pods large enough to carry groups of passengers into the skies over London. The Eye provided superlative views, including stretches of the Thames, Victoria Embankment, Big Ben, and the Houses of Parliament. A line of trees rimmed the park. Branches dark and barren, stretched toward a night shrouded by black velvet, illuminated on occasion by wrought iron street lamps and the milky beams of a three-quarter moon that drifted in a sky dusted with stars.

Following check-in, their designated host led the way into a clear, oval capsule suspended from the wheel. Jackson caught sight of Vanessa but not long enough for any type of connection. He rounded the growing crowd, shaking hands with invited guests as they were introduced, joining in excited chatter and exclamations centered on the ride to come. As a celebratory atmosphere built, Jackson relaxed, even though he noticed Tamara stationed along the far reaches of the transport. She shared the view with John Kensington of Kensi-Corp. A whole new set of challenges and questions came alive in his mind, pulling him far away from the party at hand.

“There's something so appealing, and so classic, about a handsome man in a dark silk suit.” Vanessa tucked into place against his side, soft and warm.

“Spoken like a true fashionista.” Her arrival was a Godsend. “May I return the compliment and tell you that dress you're wearing is incredible.”

“I thank you for noticing.” Smile on the bloom, she delivered a sly wink. “I chose it for you more so than me.”

Allowing for a quick indulgence, Jackson fingered back a tempting wave of deep brown hair and tucked it behind her ear. He didn't know much about couture, but he could certainly admire the end result. Vanessa was a vision in blue satin. The hemline swirled against her legs in a tempting shimmer. Supple motions quite naturally pulled his attention to long legs made all the longer by a pair of spiky black heels. Women and heels. He had given up long ago trying to figure out how they managed to walk in them.

Vanessa slid her fingertips against his tie in a smoothing motion and then tweaked the knot at his throat. “I'm quite keen on your nod to the holidays with this dash of dark green. Very striking. You're quite a feast for the eyes.”

Jackson suppressed an urge to hook his hands against her waist.
Business,
he thought.
This gathering is about cultivating business.
“I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

Surrendering quiet intimacy, they rejoined the party, rounding the edge of a long oval hor d'oeuvres table draped by white linen. Picking up a plate, Jackson explored the selection of gourmet canapés.

“Thank goodness for food markers, otherwise I'd be clueless.”

“The food is delicious, so be daring.”

Easy enough for her to say; selections included such items as herbed goat cheese on focaccia bread. There was also an offering of green pea cake with lemon cream cheese, poached sea trout and avruga.

“I think I'll stick with a few red pepper blini's with smoked chicken. I figure that's daring yet—”

“Safe at the same time.” Vanessa's playful snicker tempted him to try a sweet potato croute with pork pâté that had been lightly drizzled with rhubarb chutney. Vanessa met that selection with an approving nod. “Bravo.”

Sumptuous food offerings were highlighted at perfectly spaced intervals by the decorative touch of low, round, white china vases. Each narrow neck sported a single, perfect bloom of red poinsettia. The ascent upon London's iconic Ferris wheel began with barely a shift of motion. Jackson plucked a pair of bubbling champagne flutes from the table and offered one to Vanessa, trailing after her as she claimed a viewing spot within their submarine shaped vessel.

“Have you ever been kissed at 135 meters?”

Her audacious question, spoken in a silky whisper, made him smile, and temporarily dispelled the tangled vines of Tamara's presence. “No, can't say that I have.”

Playfully coy, she issued a regretful sound. “If only we were alone so I could take that particular item off your bucket list.”

The Eye made a slow, steady lift into the sky and a spectacular view of the British Telecom Building came to life along with an enchanting sea of lights that seemed to stretch on to forever. Punctuating the flats and curves were dots of architectural history like Westminster Abbey and the Tower Bridge.

Their host kicked off an official introduction. “Good evening ladies and gentlemen, and welcome aboard. Taking you to a height of 135 meters, the London Eye—some still might refer to it as the Millennium Wheel—is the largest cantilevered observation wheel in the world. Designed by Marks Barfield Architects, the structure was constructed in sections which were floated up the Thames on barges and assembled lying flat on piled platforms that were stationed in the river…”

The speech continued. Jackson tried to pay attention, tried to remain focused on a stunning nighttime display, but his attention kept drifting to Tamara. She was at the opposite end of the capsule, but that didn't diminish her impact. That didn't protect him from the way she kept tabs on him as well, a speculative, inscrutable expression on her face.

He had no idea what she might be up to.

“You know? I can see precisely where your gaze is leading you.” Vanessa turned toward him and deliberately blocked his sideways view while sipping from her flute. “Don't go there. You've nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing except a reputation and work ethic I've worked all my life to maintain and uphold.”

“Successfully, I might add.” Vanessa surrendered no more than a glance in Tamara's direction. “Pity the same won't be said about her if she tries to be underhanded.”

Jackson flattened a palm against the glass encasement, grateful for the coolness against his skin and fingertips. Re-focused on the view, he continued to fight an inner battle. “You and Peter have been fantastic, but you know who and what I am. You operate from a point of established trust and confidence. Not so this group of people who don't know me at all.”

“Yet.”

“Yet.” He tapped his glass lightly against hers. “All the same, I'm trying to build relationships, and work with these people. Poison in the water can—”

“Can be diluted with anti-serum.”

For an instant, he stared, then a smile flashed wide, swift and real—from his soul straight through to the curve of his lips. “You don't give up, do you?”

“Never.”

Her eyes twinkled in the minimalist light. Nothing was meant to detract from the cityscape of London, so Jackson followed that chain of thought to conclusion and lost himself in the view all over again.