A Puppy for Christmas

by Nikki Logan

  Just being with David again on Friday evening had been enough for Bree to realise that it had been her pride more than her heart that was hurt a year ago.

  She had realised just as surely that her heart would never recover from loving Jackson.

  ‘I see,’ Jackson snapped. ‘So the two of you are now back together?’

  ‘Hardly!’ Bree dismissed the idea with a dry smile. ‘Forgiving him and Cathy doesn’t mean that I want to pick up where the two of us left off!’

  ‘It doesn’t?’

  ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘I don’t love him. I’m not sure that I ever did.’ She gave a rueful shake of her head. ‘We met at university, parted for a while, and then met up again. I realise now that going out together became something of a habit; when he asked me to marry him it just seemed like the next step in the relationship. I know now it would have been the wrong step,’ she concluded quietly.

  Jackson nodded. ‘So are the two of you going to see each other again?’

  ‘I told you earlier that we aren’t.’ Bree shook her head firmly. ‘We’ve made our peace and said goodbye.’

  ‘And going out to dinner with Roger Tyler on Thursday...?’

  Bree sighed heavily. ‘That was just a knee-jerk reaction to the anniversary of my wedding-that-never-was.’

  Jackson looked down at her searchingly, deducing from the unblinking steadiness of her eyes as she returned his gaze that she was telling the truth.

  ‘Okay.’ He breathed deeply. ‘So now we come to the biggie: did our own lovemaking last week happen for the same reason?’

  Bree’s gaze no longer met his and she began to push against his chest. ‘You’re too heavy, Jackson—’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere until you answer me, Bree,’ Jackson assured her grimly.

  Her hands grew still against his chest and she frowned up at him. ‘I don’t know what else you want me to say. Obviously these...lapses between the two of us have made things very difficult. To the point where, as you suggested earlier, we may not be able to continue working together.’

  ‘And would that bother you?’ he demanded sharply.

  Would leaving Beaumont House, leaving Jackson and Danny, bother Bree? Just the thought of it was enough to create a huge hollow inside her. And it was a hollowness that Bree knew would never be filled once she was forced to leave Jackson.

  ‘Yes, it would bother me very much to leave Danny and—and you,’ she admitted huskily.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s like you said earlier: I’ve come to love Danny...to think of him as part of my family.’

  Jackson eyes gleamed. ‘And...me?’

  She swallowed hard, a haunted look entering her eyes.

  ‘Sorry, it’s unfair of me to expect you answer that now.’ He frowned in self-disgust, rolling to the side and taking Bree with him, his arms like steel bands about her waist, holding her beside him as he stared up at the ceiling. ‘You’ve been honest with me about your past, and now I’m going to reciprocate by telling you something that only one other person besides myself is aware of.’

  ‘Jackson...’ Bree raised her head to look at him uncertainly.

  He smiled ruefully. ‘It’s nothing bad, Bree, just...very personal.’

  ‘About you and Jennifer Greaves?’

  ‘Me and...?’ Jackson shook his head in bewilderment. ‘There is no me and Jennifer Greaves!’

  ‘You went out to lunch with her on Friday.’

  ‘And that’s all I did.’ He looked hard at Bree for a moment. ‘It would appear that, for me, La Greaves and women like her have completely lost their appeal.’

  Bree’s heart gave a leap in her chest. ‘They have?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jackson assured her decisively. ‘Now, will you allow me to finish what I started telling you?’

  ‘If it really is that personal, are you sure you want to tell me about it?’

  ‘Very sure,’ he stated firmly. ‘It’s about Danny’s mother.’

  Bree drew in a sharp breath as curiosity and confusion battled inside her. Loving Jackson as she did, how could she help but feel curious about Danny’s mother? At the same time she felt deeply confused as to Jackson’s reasons for wanting to confide in her.

  Unless...

  No, she mustn’t let her imagination run away with her. Jackson was only reciprocating after she had just told him about herself. Not that Jackson had given her much of a choice in the matter, but even so...

  Bree shook her head. ‘You don’t need to tell me anything—’

  ‘Yes, I do—damn it!’ Jackson swore vehemently, rolling over to look down at her whilst holding her firmly against him as he smoothed the hair back from her soft pale cheeks. ‘Maybe after what happened to you a year ago you aren’t ready to hear this yet—maybe you never will be,’ he added grimly. ‘But I’m damned if I’m going to let you walk away from me without first telling you how I feel.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘You, damn it!’

  She stared up at him. ‘Me?’

  Jackson sighed with frustration. ‘Bree, if these last few days of floundering around like a—like a jealous moron have shown me nothing else, they’ve shown me that I’ve fallen in love with you. Completely, crazily, head-over-heels in love with you.’

  Bree’s breath caught in her throat. Had Jackson just said...? Had he just said that he...?

  ‘There’s no need to look quite so horrified, Bree,’ Jackson muttered sardonically. ‘I told you—I’m not expecting anything back from you. God knows, I’m well aware of how impossible I can be! But—’

  ‘You’re in love with me?’ Bree finally managed to gasp incredulously.

  ‘Well past the point of no return, I’m afraid.’ He nodded gently. ‘Admittedly it took the threat of two other men in your life for me to realise the truth, but now that I have I must be honest with you about it. I owe you that much. I love you, Bree. So very much.’

  Bree was speechless. Absolutely, completely speechless.

  Jackson cocked his head to one side thoughtfully. ‘It took the appearance of Roger Tyler and David in your life for me to finally admit it to myself—and even then I still initially thought I was just annoyed at the possibility of one of them stealing the best personal assistant I’ve ever had.’ He shook his head. ‘I hated it when you went out with Roger Tyler. Then I went through absolute hell when you disappeared with David on Friday evening after the two of us had made love. I didn’t know who I wanted to strangle more—him or you!’

  The wall Bree had built to shield her emotions over the past few days had begun to crumble the moment Jackson told her he was in love with her, and it fell away completely now, as he continued to explain his feelings for her—in typical Jackson fashion, of course!

  Jackson loved her.

  Jackson was in love with her!

  Bree’s heart felt full to bursting as she looked up at him. ‘And now...?’

  He grinned. ‘Now I just want to keep you all to myself, so that no other man can steal you away from me—ever!’

  She swallowed hard. ‘Ever...?’

  Jackson nodded. ‘I would very much like to marry you, Bree.’

  Bree’s eyes widened. ‘You want to marry me?’

  She was aware that she had sounded somewhat moronic during these last few minutes, but the things Jackson was saying...the prospect of a future together implied by his words...it was almost beyond belief.

  Jackson’s arms tightened around her again. ‘I’ve realised these past few days that I want it all with you, Bree.’ His voice deepened solemnly. ‘Marriage. Babies. Years and years of loving, arguing, growing old together.’

  Bree gazed at him—at the sincerity in his expression and the love shining in his eyes. It was all more than enough to convince her
that Jackson meant every single word.

  ‘And what if I were to say that the reason I’ve been behaving the way I have over the past few days is because I’ve realised I want all that too?’

  Jackson became very still. ‘And have you? Do you?’

  Bree smiled shyly. ‘Oh, yes.’

  He swallowed. ‘You...love me?’

  She chuckled at his expression. ‘There’s no need to look quite so horrified, Jackson,’ she teased, repeating his words from earlier. ‘Impossible as you undoubtedly are, you’re also incredibly loveable.’

  ‘You really are in love with me?’ Jackson could still only stare at her dazedly.

  ‘More than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything.’

  ‘Enough to marry me?’

  She nodded. ‘And have your babies. Lots of them. At least four would be—Jackson!’ Bree only had time to gasp before he swept her up into his arms and proceeded to show her just how much he loved her.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘THERE’S SOMETHING I have to tell you before you agree to marry me, Bree...’

  ‘I thought I already had.’ Bree stirred sleepily in Jackson’s arms as they lay naked in bed together.

  ‘You might want to reconsider that decision once I’ve finished speaking...’

  Bree’s attention sharpened as she noted the seriousness of his tone. ‘Whatever is it, Jackson, I’ll still want to marry you,’ she promised.

  ‘I hope so.’ He sighed shakily. ‘Bree—Danny isn’t my biological son. In every way that counts he’s mine, and he always will be,’ he continued firmly. ‘But I’m not his biological father.’

  Bree felt completely awake now and she looked up at Jackson searchingly, seeing the truth of his words in the steadiness of his deep blue gaze.

  ‘But he looks so much like you...’

  Jackson’s jaw tightened. ‘Yes.’

  ‘But how can that be if—?’ Bree frowned as her thoughts tumbled over each other in an effort to make sense of Jackson’s statement. ‘Your sister Jocelyn?’

  ‘I always knew you were too intelligent for my own good.’ Jackson smiled at her ruefully. ‘Yes, Danny is Jocelyn’s son.’

  Bree shook her head in disbelief. ‘But how...? I know your sister...I know Jocelyn died...but where’s his real father?’

  ‘Still married to his wife, I imagine.’ Jackson frowned.

  ‘Ah...’ Bree grimaced. ‘Tell me what happened, Jackson,’ she invited soothingly.

  It was a familiar tale: a university student falling in love with one of her married lecturers, the two of them embarking on an affair that culminated when Jocelyn found out she was pregnant.

  ‘My mother was horrified,’ Jackson continued grimly. ‘Refused to have anything to do with Jocelyn unless she agreed to have an abortion.’

  ‘Which she obviously didn’t.’

  ‘No, thank God!’ He gave a shudder. ‘There was never any question of it in Jocelyn’s mind. The baby was hers and she was going to keep it.’

  Thinking of Danny, of how adorable he was, Bree felt eternally grateful for Jocelyn’s determination.

  ‘But Clarissa absolutely adores Danny.’

  ‘Yes,’ Jackson agreed drily.

  ‘And she knows he’s Jocelyn’s son?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Jackson nodded. ‘She adored him from the first moment she saw him—shortly before Jocelyn died.’

  Bree swallowed. ‘Did the two of them manage to make their peace before...?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said gratefully. ‘And it’s because of my mother’s genuine love for Danny that I’ve been able to forgive her for so many other things,’ he added.

  Bree could understand that. ‘You continued to love Jocelyn, though, didn’t you...?’

  Jackson nodded. ‘She was and always will be my baby sister. I wanted her to come and live here with me once I knew she was pregnant, but she was adamant she was going to manage on her own. And she did. I helped her financially once the baby was born, of course, and visited her often during her pregnancy and afterwards, but otherwise Jocelyn was very independent. She did agree to let me be with her at the birth, though,’ he recalled, close to tears. ‘It was...truly amazing. The most profound experience of my life.’

  ‘What went wrong, Jackson?’ Bree asked softly.

  He gave a shaky sigh. ‘The doctors discovered that Jocelyn had breast cancer when Danny was only six months old. It— She— By the time they realised it was too far advanced for them to do anything about it. I moved in with her—cared for Danny when she was too sick to do it herself. One night she asked me if I would take Danny, bring him up as my own son once she was gone. Hell, there was no question of my not agreeing to do that; by that time Danny was my son in every way that mattered! We had the adoption papers drawn up and signed only weeks before Jocelyn died. She held him at the end, and—’ He broke off, overcome with emotion.

  ‘It’s all right, Jackson.’ Bree held him tightly in her arms.

  ‘Is it?’ He looked at her intensely. ‘Is it really all right, Bree?’

  She looked down at him in gentle reproach. ‘You didn’t really think my knowing the truth about Danny was going to make any difference to how much I love you both, did you?’

  He frowned. ‘I’ve always held off becoming too involved with any woman because I didn’t think she would be able to accept that Danny being adopted makes him as much my child as any other children I might have...’

  He stopped speaking as Bree placed her fingertips across his lips.

  ‘He won’t ever be anything less, Jackson,’ she assured him emotionally. ‘I love him as much as you do. I—I would be honoured to be allowed to become his mother.’

  ‘Oh, you’ll be “allowed”, Bree.’ He smiled. ‘Danny already thinks the sun rises and sets with you, anyway,’ he added. ‘All he could talk about earlier was how much more fun it would have been if you had come outside and helped to build the snowman.’

  ‘That must have rankled.’ She laughed merrily.

  Jackson grinned. ‘Only because inwardly I agreed with him. Everything...life is so much more fun with you, Bree!’

  ‘We’ll all go out tomorrow and build another snowman,’ she promised.

  ‘And then we’ll come back inside and make love again,’ Jackson added, winking impishly.

  He paused to demonstrate that love with a slow kiss.

  ‘There’s just one other thing,’ he added, breaking off the kiss reluctantly. ‘I would like to tell Danny about Jocelyn when he’s old enough to understand.’

  ‘We’ll tell him together,’ Bree promised. ‘Talking of Danny...’ She looked at him in playful reproach. ‘It’s Christmas Eve and our son will be wanting his dinner. Then he has to have his bath before we take him up to bed and read him a bedtime story because Father Christmas comes in the—’ Bree broke off in horror. ‘Oh, my Lord, I haven’t got you a Christmas present!’ She gasped. ‘I couldn’t find anything suitable when I went shopping on Friday and— What are you laughing at?’

  ‘You, my darling Bree.’ Jackson chuckled, throwing back the bedclothes as he got out of bed, then picked her up in his arms, twirling around the room with her. ‘You’re my Christmas present, Bree!’ He kissed her. ‘You!’

  He kissed her again, deeply, hungrily, with every ounce of love he had for this incredible, beautiful woman—this wonderful woman who was going to be his wife and Danny’s mother.

  For ever.

  * * * * *

  The Soldier, the Puppy and Me

  Myrna Mackenzie

  Dear Reader,

  When I discovered that I would be writing a book about a puppy at Christmas, I was thrilled. I love puppies. Who doesn’t love puppies?

  Then Trey McFadden, the hero of the story, dro
pped in. He was damaged, he kept his heart to himself, he didn’t want a wife (especially not his former next-door neighbor, Ella Delancey) and he didn’t want a puppy. Puppies were for people who could offer commitment. Trey wasn’t ever going to be that guy.

  Hmm, that could be a problem, I thought. Because Trey was going to be home for a short visit and not only was Ella still living next door, she was Christmas-sitting a puppy from the local shelter. But surely I could depend on good-natured Ella to help me save the story. After all, she had once loved Trey from a distance.

  But no. Ella had grown up and now she knew that Trey wasn’t the man for her. She didn’t intend to risk her heart again.

  Sigh. It was beginning to look as if there was no way to get these two together.

  Then Fizz, the puppy, took over. He was a natural matchmaker. Too bad that Trey, Ella and Fizz had only until Christmas to find a happy ending. Fizz and I had our work cut out for us. I hope you enjoy the results.

  Best wishes for happiness during this special season,

  Myrna Mackenzie

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  EPILOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  TREY MCFADDEN HADN’T seen or wanted to see his family home in Eagleton, Illinois, for ten years. But despite the fact that it was nearly three in the morning, the full moon enabled him to tell that the house was pretty much as it had been on the day he’d walked away when he was eighteen years old. Except for all the Christmas lights.

  Christmas lights? Who in heck had hung Christmas lights? The house had been empty for...he wasn’t sure how long, but he knew it had been a very long time. His parents wintered in warmer climes, and there were no servants. No anyone.