The Billionaire's Christmas Baby(23)

“What are you having?” She stared at him with a sparkle and a lofty smile.

“Scotch.”

“I’ll have the same.” He gave a half laugh, half grunt. Since when did he do a half-laugh? With Hannah he was constantly on the verge of laughing or yelling. She was full of contradictions.


“Maybe we should have the Sampsons over,” Hannah said with a suspiciously cheerful grin.

He rolled his eyes. “I think once this season is enough.”

“You’re horrible. I can’t believe you pretend you’re not home when they knock at your door.” She looked adorable as she tried to give him a stern frown even though her eyes twinkled.

“If I let them in once, that would be it. I’d never get rid of them,” he said, walking back to her. He didn’t want to think about all the things the Sampsons said about Emily being a gift. An angel.

“I think they’re charming, and so in love after so many years. What wonderful spirit to have matching Santa hats…”

“I’ve got to start drinking.”

Hannah threw her head back and laughed.

“Now if we’re drinking this straight, we’ve got to do something more interesting than playing cards,” Jackson said standing in front of her.

She raised a brow and tipped her head in silent challenge.

Jackson handed Hannah her glass and the moment her fingers brushed against his he felt the heat and fire that he’d been experiencing whenever he made close contact with her. She raised her glass to his and he wondered if he imagined the faint tremor in her hand.

“Cheers,” she said, her voice husky. Jackson took a sip and sat beside her on the leather couch. He noticed she scooted a little further away—she definitely felt the attraction too.

“So how about a game of truth or dare?”

“That seems a little juvenile for you, Jackson.”

He leaned back and watched her over the rim of his glass. “I’m really just a kid at heart.” He smiled at her shout of laughter, her whiskey swishing precariously close to the rim of her glass. “Besides, once we get a few of these in us,” he said holding up his drink, “the game gets really interesting.” He couldn’t stop his smile at the thought of the petite brunette trying to drink him under the table.

“I’ll bet. Okay, I’m up for it. But I’ve got to warn you, I’m not a cheap drunk, I know how to hold my liquor. Besides, there’s a baby in the other room—I have to be responsible.”

“All right, let the game begin.”

“I go first,” she said, leaning forward to pat Charlie on head.

“Shoot,” he said, forcing himself not to look at the cleavage peaking out when she leaned over to pat his dog. It was impressive cleavage too. Dammit.

“Truth or dare?” she asked wriggling her eyebrows.

He folded his arms across his chest. “Dare.”

She frowned. “Really? Dare?”

“Hannah, you didn’t actually think I’d say truth, did you?”

She looked thoroughly disappointed. “No one ever picks dare!”

“Seriously? I always pick dare.”

“But I haven’t thought of a dare,” she said, taking a long drink. She licked the corner of her mouth and his stomach clenched involuntarily.

“Time’s a tickin’,” he said, enjoying teasing her.

“No, it’s not. There’s no time limit. Okay, I’ve thought of something!” she said, looking very pleased with herself. “I dare you to tell me why you changed your name.”

He laughed. “Nice work-around, but are you sure you want to waste a dare on something as mundane as my name?”

“Somehow I don’t think this is going to be mundane at all.” She lifted her eyebrows in silent challenge.

He groaned theatrically and then leaned further into the cushions. “Fine. When I…” He paused for a second searching for the right words. He’d never had to explain this before, and suddenly, not looking like a complete jerk to Hannah seemed important. “I knew that if I was ever going to make it I would have to disassociate myself from my family. I didn’t want to be contacted by them anymore. I needed to move on with my life. I didn’t do it out of embarrassment or shame. I don’t really give a damn what people think of me.” He finished off his glass and didn’t look at her. Hannah was dangerously easy to talk to.

“I can understand that.” The lack of sympathy in her voice startled him and he looked over at her. She shoved her empty glass in front of his face. “I’d love a refill, please.”

“You and me both.” He stood up and walked across the room. He felt a little slighted that she hadn’t seemed more compassionate.

“Jackson?”

“Yeah,” he said over his shoulder.

“Just bring the whole bottle.”

His shoulders shook with laughter and did as asked, joining her on the couch. She surprised him by lifting her glass for a toast.

“To screwed up childhoods and bad Christmases,” she said. He clinked his glass with hers and held her gaze.

“Really, bad Christmases? Screwed up childhood?” That wasn’t what he expected at all from her.

She nodded. It was the first time she’d volunteered anything about her life.