by Jacksons Way
The firm line softened at his first touch and his heart raced. Then her lips parted and she lightly touched the tip of her tongue to his fingertip. His knees went weak as his breath caught and his blood went hot. Even as he told himself not to, he traced the curve of her lip again. Lindsay's sigh was pure seduction and he pulled his hand back before she could feel the trembling in it.
Her eyes fluttered open and a soft smile touched the corners of her mouth. “I've never been kissed quite like that.”
“I'm not sure that kissing you any other way is a particularly smart idea.” Not that this was particularly smart, either, he silently added.
“You were the one who set the penalty,” she reminded him. “Perhaps you'd like to reconsider. I'd certainly be willing to allow a change in the rules.”
Jackson was about to agree when she slowly trailed her tongue over her lower lip. If she knew what she was doing to him, she was an extraordinary seductress. If she didn't, then she had incredible natural instincts for the art. Either way, she had a siren's call.
“I've never tasted whiskey before,” she said, her voice a sultry whisper of discovery. “It's rather nice in a smoky sort of way, isn't it?”
His common sense whimpered once and surrendered. Jack dipped his finger in his whiskey again. “The fellow who kissed you wasn't any good at it, was he?” he asked, slowly painting her lower lip again. Her eyes remained open this time, her gaze fastened on his.
Lindsay's heart raced. Inviting Jackson Stennett's kisses was beyond foolhardy. But never before had a man's touch stirred her as Jackson's did. It made her feel alive and wildly, wondrously free. The feeling was too heady to deny, too luscious to refuse a deeper taste. Whatever the price of asking for more, she'd pay it and pay it gladly. Let others think whatever they would. “He had the reputation of being a very skillful lover.”
Lover? “Oh, yeah?” Jack drawled, intrigued by the possibilities and casting aside any notion of propriety. “Did his performance live up to the advance billing?”
She gently licked his fingertip again and an exquisite jolt of pleasure shot through him. As he struggled to find a sliver of good judgment, Lindsay whispered, “A lady doesn't kiss and tell, Jack.”
It was an invitation if he'd ever heard one. “That's good to know,” he said, trailing his fingertip down over her lip, her chin, and then slowly up the line of her jaw. Such very delicate lines, such acceptance in her eyes. She wasn't going to change her mind. God only knew why she was courting his advance, but the temptation was too strong to resist. He slipped his hand to her nape, cradling her head as she lifted her lips to his.
Lindsay closed her eyes and drew a slow breath, her heart racing. It wouldn't go the way it had the last time, she reassured herself; she was much wiser now. And she knew that Jack wasn't going to stay. Besides, being with Jack wasn't at all like it had been when—
Sensation swept away all conscious thought. Feather-light and gentle, his kiss whispered promises of sweet, dark mysteries and slow, wanton revelries. She abandoned herself in the pleasure of the caress and was rewarded by the luxurious deepening of the kiss. His tongue traced the path that his finger had blazed over her lip and she met it with her own, melting into him and sighing in welcome as he drew her closer and tasted her more deeply still.
She was molten and weak, soaring and stronger than she had ever been. Heady sensation and wonderment, the heat and potent tension of timeless instinct…. Then there was only the lingering shadow of what had been. And she hungered for more of what was gone.
Jackson, his breathing ragged, stepped back from her, back from the brink of too late. She was so damn easy to kiss, so damn delicious. He'd only thought he was a goner before. He hadn't known just how intoxicating her lips were, how sweetly she could surrender. And as she looked up at him now, her lips still dewy from his kiss, her blue eyes softened by yearning …
God help him; all he wanted to do was lean down, begin again, and let her finish seducing him. But wanting and doing what was smart were two different things and he knew it. Neither one of them needed the complications inherent in taking a lover.
She blinked and then looked away, but not before he saw the shadows of doubt and regret pass across her beautiful features. Part of him wanted to assure her that she had done nothing to be ashamed of. Another part of him recognized the advantage of letting her put some distance between them. She'd tell him that she had reacted inappropriately and that she was appalled, that she would never let it happen again. And, if he were any sort of gentleman, he'd apologize for taking advantage of her inexperience and swear to never touch her again. If he were a gentleman. She drew a steadying breath and Jack braced himself.
“Jack, I should tell—”
“I think dinner's being served,” he interrupted as the faint notes of a bell sounded from the dining room. Silently blessing Primrose for the timely reprieve, he offered Lindsay his arm, saying brightly, “Shall we?”
She took it and allowed him to guide her from the study. In the foyer, it crossed his mind to forget dinner, to turn and go up the stairs, and give her a choice between her room or his. Good judgment for once prevailed. It chafed, but he endured.
They were seated opposite each other at one end of the huge table when she next spoke. “Jackson?”
“Yes?”
Apparently having thought better of whatever it was she'd intended to say, she shook her head and with a soft smile said, “Never mind.”
Even in the candlelight, he could see the color flooding her cheeks. “You were going to say that you liked my kiss better, weren't you?” he teased.
She met his gaze, her smile tentative. “Well, yes. Among other things.”
It was those other things that he didn't really want to talk about. Facing the matter square on meant having to close the door. It had been a helluva long time since a kiss had singed that hard and deep. For the moment, it was nice having possibilities in front of him—even if he knew deep down inside that in the end he was going to have to turn his back on them. He smiled at her and winked, and then, with all the grace and social elegance of a three-legged plow horse, deliberately changed the direction of their conversation. “When do you think Henry and Agatha will see the paper?” he asked, cutting into his steak.
Lindsay barely kept her shoulders from sagging with relief. Jack clearly didn't want to discuss anything of a personal nature, mercifully sparing her the ordeal of confessing her past sins in order to explain her current ones.
“The evening edition of the paper has probably already been typeset,” she answered, eagerly attacking her own steak. “I doubt that the news of the MacPhaull Company's new ownership will be cause to stop the presses. Given that, I think it's safe to assume they'll see the story in tomorrow morning's edition. They'll charge forth immediately, of course.”
He took a sip of wine. “If you'd prefer to be elsewhere for the confrontation, I'd certainly understand.”
Jackson Stennett was a prince among men. But as tempting as it was to let him take charge, she still wore the yoke of obligation. “I think whether or not I'm there depends on what you intend to say to them.”
“In a nutshell, I'm going to tell them that they're going to grow up and be responsible for themselves and their own finances. They aren't your responsibility anymore.”
“They don't know how to be responsible,” she calmly pointed out.
“Then it's high time they learned.”
“Jack …”
“I've looked at the books, Lindsay,” he countered, cutting himself more meat. “I understand what the numbers are saying. You make money and your brother and sister spend it. They don't contribute anything to the MacPhaull coffers except bills for payment. Agatha's new necklace being a prime example. Their free ride is going to come to an end, Lindsay; an abrupt and permanent end.”
Her appetite gone, Lindsay laid her fork aside. “But how will they survive? Henry has children whose welfare has to be considered.”
&
nbsp; He chewed slowly and swallowed before answering, “I'm going to take out of the business just what I need to clear the loans on the land Billy left me. Then I'll equally divide what's left between the three of you so that each has income-producing assets in your own name. What Henry and Agatha decide to do with theirs is their business. It's none of mine. Most importantly, it's none of yours, either.”
Oh God. It was a good plan; equitable and sound, except for the fact that Henry and Agatha would be bankrupt within a very short period of time. The only hope they had of remaining solvent was to let her manage their assets for them. Which is exactly what they'd insist upon, she realized. Jackson could divide, but he wouldn't be able to conquer. The minute he went back to Texas, the management of the MacPhaull properties would revert to the way it had always been done. It was probably best to let him have his illusions, though. The less conflict between the two of them, the better.
“It's fair, Lindsay.”
“I know,” she agreed, her mind considering the other likely consequences of his intended actions. “I also know that Henry is going to see getting a third as considerably less than what he was hoping for.”
“He can be grateful for a third or get nothing at all.”
“And if he challenges the Will, Jack? What will you do then?”
He shrugged and sampled his wine. “He won't have grounds to contest it, Lindsay. Ever. The MacPhaull Company was Billy's to do with as he pleased and he gave it all to me; lock, stock, and barrel. Elmer Smith, the lawyer in Texas, might not be able to punch his way out of a rotten flour sack, but he's got a mind like a steel trap. He made sure the will was sound, Lindsay. It can't be broken. Otis Vanderhagen knew that the minute he laid his eyes on it.”
“But what if Henry decides to contest it, just to be difficult?” she persisted. “Or to force you into giving him more than you intend to?”
“It'd be a real stupid thing to do for whatever reason.”
“Why?”
With a sigh of tried patience, he laid down his silverware. “First of all, Henry has no say in the MacPhaull Company operations. Added to that is the fact that Billy's last Will hasn't been formally recognized by the New York courts yet and so the ownership of the MacPhaull assets hasn't been officially transferred. Billy is still the owner of record and Richard is still the manager.”
She knew that and she nodded. “Which means that, legally, nothing has changed at all. I can still buy and sell and do whatever I deem necessary to keep the company fiscally sound.”
“Exactly. Henry can pitch all the fits he likes, but it's not going to get him anywhere.”
“But if I were to pitch a fit about helping you dismantle the company …” she ventured, watching him.
His gaze was dark and somber. Quietly, he said, “You could put a real big knot in my rope for a while.”
Yes, she could. And very easily. If she were of a mind to. The larger question was why she wasn't. “If I were going to fight you for control, you and I wouldn't be sitting here eating dinner together tonight.”
“No, we probably wouldn't,” he drawled, going back to his steak. “I'd be in a hotel somewhere and you'd be scrambling to sell whatever you could for whatever price you could get, just so that you could hand me an empty bag when the courts made you give it to me.”
“I could still do that.” I should be doing that.
“But you won't.”
He was so confident in his victory. The ease with which he'd apparently achieved it rankled her pride. “How can you be so sure?” she asked tauntingly, hoping to ruffle his composure.
“You're a good and decent person, Lindsay MacPhaull. You play fair and deal square. If you had it in you to be even just a little bit ruthless, you'd have cut Henry and Agatha off a long time ago. You'd have left me in the fire this morning.”
“I could decide that it's time I learned how to be ruthless.”
Again he sighed and laid down his silverware. “You could,” he agreed softly, staring down at his plate. He looked up at her. “Or, for the first time in your life, you could decide to hand over the reins, sit back, and let someone take care of you for a while.”
Her heart skittered. “That would require a great deal of trust on my part,” she observed as tendrils of fear snaked through her.
“Yep,” he replied, pushing back his chair and rising to his feet. “Just as much as I have in you. Good night, Lindsay. Let me know in the morning what you decide.”
Lindsay watched him go, torn between knowing what she knew Richard would tell her to do and what she wanted to do. Yes, she could—as Jack had so descriptively said— put a knot in his rope for a while. In terms of her own financial interests, it was what she should do.
If her mother were still living, the lecture on responsibility to family would have already begun in earnest. Interwoven with that tirade would have been another one on the importance of feminine virtue and how its sacrifice should be considered only in exchange for significant business concessions.
But she wasn't her mother, and she wasn't Richard, either. She was Lindsay MacPhaull and she was tired of struggling through the turmoil on her own. She could sell off property and keep what pennies she got or she could let Jack do it and hope he could not only get more for it, but that he was also a man of his word. Would it really be all that horrible to let someone else be the rock of the MacPhaulls for a while?
For a while was the key, she reminded herself. Jack would go back to Texas, and when he did, her life would go back to normal. The real question, then, was whether she could temporarily surrender control and still have the strength to stand on her own again when the time came and she needed to.
Just how long was the respite Jack offered? He'd said he had to have it all done within sixty days. Lindsay mentally subtracted the time it would take for him to return to Texas and then the days necessary to actually pay off the creditors there. What remained was just over a month. She knew people who considered that span of time to be barely enough for a suitable holiday.
But, she sadly reminded herself, allowing Jack to manage the reorganization of the MacPhaull Company without hindrance wouldn't result in a complete abdication of her responsibilities. Jack would be shouldering only part of them. It could be a real holiday only if she somehow escaped the expectations of her brother and sister. That, she knew, was never going to happen. And there was absolutely no reason for Jackson Stennett to relieve her of that daunting burden. In fact, Jack's intention to make Henry and Agatha responsible for their own finances added to the weight she already bore for them.
Swallowing back tears, Lindsay placed her napkin beside her plate and rose from the table. She needed to write the letter to Mr. Goldsmith and then put it and the necklace into the study wall safe before she retired for the evening and Agatha returned home from the theater. If Agatha could get her hands on her newest bauble, there would be no prying it free. It would be yet another horrendous debt heaped on the mountain of those Lindsay already couldn't afford.
Maybe, she mused as she headed toward the study, she should consider running away to some far corner of the world where Henry and Agatha couldn't find her. It was what her father had done. And she could, on days like today, truly and honestly understand why he'd surrendered to the temptation.
JACKSON STOOD AT THE WINDOW of his darkened room and absently gazed over the moonlit garden at the back of the house. Even in the relative darkness, he could tell that the formal plantings needed tending, that the whole of it was suffering from the effects of the Panic and the demands on Lindsay's limited resources. In the grand scheme of things, gardens couldn't rightfully claim to be a priority. God knew Lindsay had more to be concerned about than the fact that new gravel needed to be put down on the pathways.
Jackson thought back over the course of the day and all that he'd learned about the snarl Billy had left him to untangle. With a wry smile, Jack consoled himself with the certain knowledge that no matter how hard his day had been, Lindsay's
had been considerably more difficult. There had been the unexpected meeting with Henry the Imperial Lord, the fire, the complications of unexpected houseguests, and then the necessity of facing the reporter.
And the necklace. Jesus, he couldn't forget the necklace. The thing had to be worth thousands of dollars, and it was a sure bet the jeweler hadn't just given it to Agatha out of the goodness of his heart. His own heart had damn near rolled over when he'd laid eyes on it.
How Agatha thought Lindsay could afford to pay for it was a mystery. Just yesterday morning, he'd stood in the study and very clearly heard Lindsay tell Agatha that she'd been put on a clothing allowance because their funds were limited. Apparently, Agatha had chosen to ignore the dose of reality. He'd bet the necklace that Lindsay had been just as honest with Henry about their financial situation. And given the expectations Henry had declared that morning, her effort had gone to pretty much the same pointless end.
He'd have brought Lindsay's brother and sister to heel a long time ago. Why hadn't Richard Patterson? Because Lindsay protested and protected them, he answered himself with a slow shake of his head. Why did she defend them? From what he could tell so far, they were both rude, self-centered, and ungrateful people. God, Lindsay MacPhaull either had the patience of a saint or she actually enjoyed being abused.
A distant high-pitched noise suddenly intruded on his thoughts. Jack let the curtain fall back into place. It came again, accompanied by the sound of a crash. Was someone breaking into the house? He'd left Lindsay downstairs alone. His heart racing, Jack strode across his room, tore open the door, and started down the hall. He was halfway to the top of the stairs when Lindsay's voice rang out clear and strong and firmly calm.
“I meant what I said, Agatha. It goes back to Mr. Goldsmith in the morning. We barely have enough money to pay for the food on our table.”