A Winter's Rose by Erica Spindler Page A

“Don’t do what?” she demanded. “Save your butt?”
    â€œMisrepresent this agency,” he shot back. “You didn’t give him one fact. All you did was puff him up and bat your eyelashes. What did you think qualified you to interfere in delicate negotiations with a major donor?”
    She narrowed her eyes. “A major donor who was about to pull his pledge. And one who is now, because of me, considering not doing so.”
    â€œYou don’t even know what we do.”
    She jerked her chin up. “Don’t kid yourself, Jackson. It’s not that complicated.”
    A vein throbbed in his neck; his eyes flashed fire. But when he spoke his voice was low and even. Bentley thought of the story Jackson had told her about his mother. If it was a case of like mother like son, she was in deep trouble.
    â€œWe’re about so much more than a guy being able to go out on the bay and troll for a flounder. So much more than being a patriotic Texan. Our actions have consequences that affect the world…forever.” Jackson flexed his fingers. “When Big Earl’s blood pressure evens out, do you really think he’s going to think any more about his decision?”
    â€œI already considered that. I have a plan.”
    Jackson’s jaw hardened. “No, Bentley. You’ve done enough. I’ll take care of this.”
    â€œJackson.” She reached out to touch him, then dropped her hand. “You don’t understand. For Big Earl, pledging money to Baysafe isn’t about more than fishing.” She pushed at the curls that tumbled over her forehead. “This is a form of aggrandizement for many of your donors. Publicity. Public relations. You yourself said that’s what Lee Ellerbee used you for. If Big Earl drops you and gives his money to
Bitsy’s strays, he still gets what he wants.”
    She lowered her voice and took a step toward him. “I know these people, Jackson. You don’t. Charities are a way of life for them, but rarely are their motives completely altruistic.”
    He raked his gaze contemptuously over her. “You know so much? What the hell are you doing in Galveston? You should be head director at one of those big, swanky charities in Dallas. Hell, in New York.”
    Bentley caught her breath at his sarcasm, but inched her chin up defiantly. “You can’t give me an inch, can you?”
    â€œNo.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I can’t.”
    â€œYou will,” she murmured, narrowing her eyes in determination. “I intend to make you eat crow, Mr. Reese. Just watch me.”
    * * *
    The woman was driving him crazy. Jackson sat behind his desk, staring broodingly at the photograph of the whooping crane that had so caught Bentley’s attention the day she arrived at Baysafe.
A week had passed since their meeting with Big Earl, and in that time she’d hardly looked his way, let alone spoken to him.
    He tore his gaze away from the photograph, drawing his eyebrows together in a frown. She pulled at his thoughts, his attention, day and night. He was plagued by the memory of their kiss, by the way she’d made him ache with arousal.
    And by the memory of his past mistakes.
    His frown deepened. Bentley seemed to be having no such problems. Each day she’d come into the office and had completed any task Jill assigned her, doing so efficiently and with a minimum of fuss. She and his office manager had become big buddies, and periodically he could hear them talking and laughing together in the reception area.
    Like now. Jackson tipped his head, listening to Bentley’s laugh. The sensual sound washed over him, taking his breath, stealing his good sense until all he wanted, all he could think to do, was to storm into the reception area and drag her into his arms, her mouth to his.
    Damn it. Annoyed with himself, Jackson swung his chair around so his back faced the door and Bentley