A Winter's Rose by Erica Spindler Page B

laughing on the other side. This had to stop. The night before he’d sunk to a new and even deeper low.
Bentley had called Chloe to see how she was doing, and the two had chatted for thirty minutes. The whole time he had stood brooding at the front window, staring at his garden, his senses swamped with memories of the sweet scent of her hair, the small, breathy sounds she made when he touched her, with the feel of her mouth on his.
    He hadn’t mooned over a woman since adolescence. Jackson swore and faced the bright, cold day. Why this woman? Why couldn’t he do what he had to and put her out of his mind?
    Jill buzzed him, announcing Big Earl on line one. Jackson took a deep breath. He’d been waiting for this call, preparing himself for the inevitable. He hadn’t had much hope that Bentley’s Band-Aid would hold, indeed was surprised it had taken Cassidy this long to get back to him.
    Jackson cleared his throat, then picked up the receiver. “Big Earl. Good afternoon. What can I do for you?”
    â€œReese,” the other man said, dispensing with preliminaries, “I’ve made my decision.”
    Jackson braced himself, his mind racing ahead to the measures he would have to take should Big Earl say what he expected him to.
    â€œI’m going to continue my pledge to Baysafe.”
    One moment became several as, stunned, Jackson stared blankly at the view from his window. He cleared his throat. “Could you repeat that?”
    The older man chuckled. “Don’t act so surprised, boy. Not after having brought in the big guns, so to speak. I’ve got to hand it to you, getting Bentley to contact Bitsy was a shrewd maneuver. She’s in an absolute state about those cute baby birds.”
    Baby birds? What baby birds? Jackson shook his head to clear it. Bentley had contacted Bitsy—despite his direct orders to butt out?
    â€œWe do appreciate your wife’s concern,” Jackson said finally.
    â€œI’ll just bet you do.” The older man chuckled again. “I tell you, my boy, at my age—and considering Bitsy’s—I’d much rather take the flak in the boardroom than in the bedroom. I can’t afford too many missed opportunities.”
    Jackson laughed. “Whatever your reasons, Big Earl, we’re grateful for your support.”
    After a few more minutes of small talk, Jackson hung up, wrestling with a strange mixture of emotions. Relief that disaster had been headed off at the pass. Surprise at Bentley having pulled it off, admiration at her pluck. And regret—that he could no longer fit her into the neat little niche he’d carved out for her.
    That complicated things. Big time.
    Jackson squinted against the light tumbling through his window. It would be so much easier to continue to fight the pull between them if he thought her cold and shallow and weak.
    But she wasn’t any of those things. At least not exclusively. She had guts. And nerve. And there was kindness in Bentley, an ability to feel deeply. Her handling of Chloe was proof of that.
    He didn’t want her to have any of those qualities. He hated that he’d found one warm, likable thing about her. It scared him senseless that he’d found several.
    Jackson frowned, working to focus on what he hadn’t learned about her. Things like what her actual motivations for coming to Galveston were. And what her game really was.
    He rolled his tight shoulders, acknowledging that the answers to those questions didn’t mean nearly as much as they had before. If anything.
    Nor did it matter that when she got bored with this, with Galveston and Baysafe, she would move on to something else.
    But for now, she’d pulled him—and Baysafe—out of the fire. A little respect, she’d said on the phone. He owed her that…he owed her an apology.
    Jackson checked his watch and went in search of her.
    * * *
    Bentley said good-night to Jill, then started