The Billionaire's Christmas Baby(19)

“I’d do anything to help a child, especially a baby. Besides, I’m doing what I should—the baby’s mother asked me to find you.”

He knew when to back down from an irate woman, and right now Hannah looked like she was ready to jump across the table and hit him. And he also knew she wouldn’t appreciate knowing how cute she looked when she was angry. He admired her passion, and couldn’t help but wonder if it extended itself to the bedroom. Okay…it looked like he was going to be battling that thought all day.

He held up his hands in surrender. She settled back into her chair, her posture not quite so rigid. “I don’t have anything to lose, no one except the kids depend on me, so I don’t care what bridges I burn to get the job done.”

There was something in that statement, uttered so matter-of-factly, that irked him. She made it sound like all she had was her job, that she had no one else. As much as he resented why she was here, he couldn’t deny the fact that she impressed him. A woman like her shouldn’t be alone. She should have more than just the kids she helped through her job, more than her career.

Her head was back in her book, and after a few minutes of staring at his darkened computer screen he figured it out. They were very alike. He didn’t have anyone worth caring about, and his job, his company was everything to him. He wasn’t willing to let anyone come between his work and him—including a baby. He clenched his teeth, because it started to sound wrong, this line of thinking. He scowled at his computer. Before she crashed his escape-Christmas bash his world had been easy. Black and white. Now all this damn color trickled through. And Hannah. He didn’t want to like her. He didn’t want her to intrigue him.

…

Hannah tore the zipper of her purse open, acutely aware that Jackson wandered around the room. She wasn’t going to get any studying done. So she looked for her favorite book to settle in front of the fire with. She looked up when she heard a rough sigh.

“What’s this?”

“What’s what?” She looked down to see that one of her books had fallen out of her bag and was now in Jackson’s large, tanned hands.

She snatched it. Or tried to snatch it. “Let go.”

He moved back a step, taking the book with him. She felt her cheeks ignite like a torch. He flipped it over and began to read the back blurb. The book was her favorite holiday read, but it was as personal to her as her past. Books had gotten her through many years of loneliness. They kept dreams alive inside her soul and taught her of love that always seemed so far from her reach. And until this moment she’d been glad it was with her. Ever since she could read, she was never without a book, especially at night, when all the disappointments haunted her mind as she tried to fall asleep. She’d huddle down under threadbare covers, in a room that never truly felt safe, and let herself be carried away to places where dreams actually came true. The words in her books would drown out the endless voices in whatever home she lived in. Her one drab red suitcase was filled with favorite books, each promising her an escape from her real life and she brought it with her to every home.

Seeing the book in Jackson’s hand bothered her. It was too personal. She tugged at the book again. She thought she spotted the corner of his mouth twitch with a hint of a smile. She placed her hands on her hips and used her sternest voice. “Give me back the book.”


He lifted his head. “Romance, huh? I wouldn’t have you pegged as a romance reader.”

She narrowed her eyes. “That happens to be one of my all-time favorite books, so if you’ll excuse me.” She grabbed the book from his hand. “I’d like to put it back in my bag.”

He held up his hands and grinned boyishly, with an expression completely at odds with the angry, standoffish man that she was getting used to.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

She frowned at him. The way he said it made it perfectly clear that he thought she should be very, very embarrassed. “You should probably read that book and take a few pointers on how to act with a woman.” She couldn’t believe she’d said that aloud.

He threw back his head and laughed.

She fought the urge to smile that gripped her out of nowhere. But it was tough, because his laugh was deep and a little throaty and a whole lot sexy. It transformed him.

He stopped laughing, but his smile remained, his perfect white teeth gleaming. “Really? So you think I’m lacking in the skills necessary to attract a woman?”

She crossed her arms in front of her. “Well, you did slam a door in my face.”

He stopped smiling. “I did not slam it. I closed it.”

“Twice. You slammed it twice,” she said holding up two wiggling fingers.

He scowled at her and jammed his fists into his pockets.

“And then you yelled in my face, using your height and… er… largeness to intimidate me.”

“I was not trying to intimidate you.”

“And left me out in a blizzard.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and then looked up at the ceiling. She could swear he counted to ten silently. “I came after you.”

“And then let me fall because you had to hold the windshield scraper.”

His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched and unclenched. “I was not trying to hold the scraper, I was trying to convince you to come inside.”