A Winter's Rose Read Online Free PDF Page A

appreciation. Not for her looks, although he wouldn’t be a man if he hadn’t noticed them. Jackson punched the number for her floor. No, it was the way she had stood up to him and all he’d dished out that had earned his grudging admiration.
    He’d dished out plenty—contempt, barely veiled criticism for her and her type. He’d hoped to embarrass—even bully—her into running back to Houston. And out of his hair.
    But she hadn’t run. She’d stiffened her spine and dug her heels in.
    But so had he. This wasn’t over yet.
    Jackson paused a moment outside the third floor’s prestigious corner suite, then knocked on the door. She swung it open almost immediately, and his gut tightened at the sight of her. Even without one speck of makeup, she was a sensational beauty. Her face had no doubt inspired men to wild fantasies, flowery poetry and ruinous acts.
    Jackson trailed his gaze slowly over her. She wore an emerald-colored robe, cinched at her waist and made of some slippery, silky fabric that had his fingers itching to touch and stroke. The robe concealed more than it revealed, but what he could see of her skin looked smooth, petal soft. Perfumed and pampered, Jackson thought, acknowledging his own cynicism. He’d known her kind of woman before.
Hell, he’d made the mistake of marrying one.
    He brought his eyes to her face. Her hair was a deep rich brown with just enough red to make it unusual—even exotic. Knowing in his gut that it wasn’t bottle-enhanced, he lowered his eyes yet again, taking his time even though she was annoyed, even though he could feel the irritation ripple off her in almost palpable waves.
    Jackson smiled. There was nothing he liked more than stirring up an opponent before the big battle.
    Except making love.
    He dropped his gaze to her bare feet. Her coral-tipped toes peeked out from beneath the hem of her robe, and he lingered a moment, his blood stirring.
    When he finally brought his eyes to hers, she arched an eyebrow, all cool, unflappable arrogance. “Inspection over?”
    Jackson smiled slowly with appreciation. No doubt she’d leveled many an impertinent servant with that particular tone and look. “Yes, ma’am,” he drawled. “There’s nothing quite like a long, leisurely gawk at a pretty woman.”
    The eyebrow arched a bit more, and she folded her arms across her chest. “Now that you’ve had your gawk, is there something I can do for you?”
    He slipped his hands into the front pockets of his denims and cocked his head. “Pretty fancy digs for a working girl.”
    The ice in her eyes became fire. “I don’t see where it’s any business of yours, and I certainly don’t remember issuing an invitation to call.”
    â€œWell, that’s good,” he drawled, “because I didn’t receive one. The mind, they say, is the first thing to go.”
    She expelled her breath in the tiniest huff. The sound had him grinning. He leaned against the doorjamb, studying her once more. He’d made her angry. It was there in the flashing eyes, the stain of heat on her cheeks, the way her chest rose and fell with her quickened breathing.
    At that moment, he found Ms. Bentley Cunningham appealing. Dangerously so. He’d thought Victoria had forever cured him of his taste for pampered princesses.
    Apparently not.
    He called himself a fool, a glutton for punishment, but still he leaned teasingly toward her. “Are you going to ask me in, Bentley Cunningham?”
    She bristled. “I don’t believe so.”
    â€œA drink, then? A cup of coffee? We could go out.”
    Bentley gritted her teeth. The man was impossible. Smug. Arrogant and condescending. Ridiculously good-looking. “As you can see, I’m not dressed.”
    â€œToo bad.”
    â€œFor you, yes.” She pushed impatiently at the curls that tumbled across her forehead. “What can I