What the hell was wrong with him this evening? He had worked alongside Bree for almost a year now without so much as a single sexual thought.
Well … maybe the odd thought. But he wouldn’t be a healthy thirty-four-year-old man if he didn’t have the occasional fantasy about an attractive twenty-six-year-old woman, whether she worked for him or not!
Yet he was now totally physically aware of Bree.
Because he didn’t like the idea of her spending the evening with another man?
Or because of that small but tangible difference he had sensed in Bree today?
There was absolutely no reason why it should matter to Jackson if Bree went on a date, so it had to be the difference in her that had ignited this physical awareness.
But it was a physical awareness he must have been out of his mind to act upon.
‘I still can’t believe you went out in that dress!’ Jackson was more comfortable on the attack than on the defensive.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Jackson,’ Bree snapped irritably.
‘It’s positively indecent!’
‘Roger didn’t seem to find anything wrong with it!’
‘I don’t—Roger Tyler?’ Jackson gaped. ‘Your dinner date this evening was with Roger Tyler?’
‘That’s right,’ she replied coolly. ‘And I must say that, unlike some people I could mention, he behaved like the perfect gentleman all evening.’
‘Roger Tyler was the man you went out to dinner with this evening …’ Jackson repeated, as if to himself.
It was a little difficult for him to comprehend the fact that his assistant—a woman who hadn’t been out on a single date since she’d begun working for him—had just spent the evening with one of the most infamous womanisers in the public eye.
Damn it—of all men, Bree had been out with the reprehensible Roger Tyler!
Jackson’s eyes narrowed ominously as he sat down on the arm of the chair. ‘And exactly how did that come about?’
Bree shrugged her shoulders. ‘He arrived for his two o’clock appointment, after all.’
The muscles in Jackson’s jaw clenched. ‘And the two of you enjoyed a pleasant hour or so chatting, no doubt?’
‘More like half an hour, since we’re splitting hairs,’ she replied sharply.
‘Long enough, in any case, for the man to invite you out on a date!’ Jackson growled.
Bree stuck out her chin challengingly. ‘Is there some unwritten rule I’m not aware of that prevents your assistant from dating any of your clients?’
Jackson hesitated, frowning. ‘Not exactly, no …’
‘Then what exactly is your problem, Jackson?’ Bree demanded, hands on hips.
In spite of her earlier apprehension about the dinner date, Bree had actually enjoyed Roger Tyler’s company this evening. Besides his obvious good looks and confidence, he was amusing and fun to be with, and not at all the egomaniac she had expected him to be. He had been charming and attentive all evening: the ‘perfect gentleman’ Bree had claimed him to be, in fact.
The restaurant where they had eaten dinner was obviously an exclusive one—the fact that there had been no prices on the menu confirmed that!—and Bree had tried hard not to stare at any of the other diners, many of whom she’d recognised from either the big or the small screen. The food and wine had been delicious, the service unobtrusive, and the company more pleasant and entertaining than Bree could ever have imagined. All in all it had been a surprisingly relaxing and enjoyable way to spend the evening.
Until her return to Beaumont House and this awful scene with Jackson. Well … the first part of it hadn’t been awful at all, but the aftermath was certainly far from pleasant!
She would never admit as much to Jackson, but she was still reeling from her response to him just now. It had been an out-of-control response that was totally at odds with her usual reserve. An out-of-control response that Bree had never felt in the arms of the man she had planned to marry a year ago …
‘Do you intend to see Tyler again?’ Jackson enquired coldly.
‘I don’t believe—’
‘And don’t even think about telling me it’s none of my business who you go out with!’ he growled warningly. ‘You’re my assistant and Roger Tyler is my client—of course it’s my business if the two of you are now dating!’
Was it? Bree wondered. Or was Jackson just being difficult?
Bree had only brought Roger Tyler into the conversation at all because she’d thought attack might be the best form of defence in what had become a very awkward situation. But perhaps in retrospect she would have been wiser not to mention that Roger Tyler had been her date this evening!
She grimaced, frustrated. ‘We aren’t dating. We’ve just been out to dinner together.’
‘And I asked if you intend to see him again,’ Jackson repeated evenly.
Bree sighed heavily before answering. ‘He said he would call me tomorrow.’
‘And?’
Bree was so annoyed by the interrogation she almost stamped her foot. ‘And if he does call tomorrow and wants to see me again I’ll decide then and there whether or not I want to see him!’
Jackson barely managed to bite back his frustration.
Just why the hell should it matter to him if Bree had finally decided to come out of her shell and start dating?
It shouldn’t. As he had told himself earlier today, Bree was as entitled to a private life as he was.
Except Jackson had just kissed her.
He had acted against every self-imposed rule he’d ever had concerning his assistants. Against every instinct telling him not to ruin a good thing when he found it: namely, the best damn assistant he had ever had!
Damn, damn, damn!
He rubbed his temples, trying to rein in his anger. ‘Do you actually like Tyler?’
Bree raised cool brows. ‘Well, obviously—seeing as I’ve just spent the evening with him.’
Jackson paused to let his irritation subside. The woman could be so infuriating!
‘No. I meant do you really like him?’
She shook her head impatiently. ‘I know what you meant, Jackson—and, again, I don’t consider that to be any of your business. I certainly don’t need some big brother figure breathing down my neck, checking up on every man I choose to go out with!’
Big brother? Jackson had just almost made love to her, damn it! He could still see the damp patch on Bree’s dress where his mouth had been exploring only moments earlier!
The memory instantly reawakened the aching throb in Jackson’s jeans—and the fact that he was sitting down made it all the more painful!
He stood up abruptly, in the hope of easing that burning ache, and realised immediately how obvious his arousal was against his denims.
‘Perhaps it’s time you returned to your apartment?’ he suggested abruptly, his tone clipped. ‘We can talk about this again in the morning.’
‘I don’t think so, Jackson,’ Bree replied firmly.
He rolled his eyes. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I