A Winter's Rose by Erica Spindler Read Free Book Online Page B

business.
    She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and pushed aside one the lace sheers. Moments later Jackson pulled into the drive, and as she watched he climbed out of the car and started toward the house.
He looked tense, tired and irritable. This was probably not a good time to broach the subject of Chloe with him, Bentley realized.
    She would anyway.
    The light that spilled from the windows into the darkness bathed him in half shadows; the backdrop of light and dark transformed Jackson’s silhouette from that of civilized man to warrior. He looked up and met her gaze, his expression fierce. Bentley shuddered and told herself to either move away from the window or acknowledge his glance, but instead she stood still, immobilized and light-headed, her eyes locked with his.
    Something hot and heavy moved over her, something sweetly pungent, like a profusion of blossoms in a still, dark room, like forbidden desire. Shaken, breathless, Bentley dropped the lace curtain and stepped away from the window, her heart a freight train in her chest.
    She sucked in a deep, steadying breath and pressed a trembling hand to her mouth. Dear Lord, what had happened to her? For a moment, she had felt…everything a woman could feel when she looked at a man—desire and regret, power and powerlessness. The need for connection, the fear of it.
    She didn’t turn as Jackson opened the door and stepped inside. He shut it behind him with a soft click. The sound seemed to resound in the quiet room, and Bentley pulled in another calming breath. Nothing had happened, she told herself. Nothing.
    She faced him then, and called herself a liar.
    â€œBentley?”
    She heard the concern in his voice and realized that he would be worried about Chloe. She attempted to smile and found she could not.
    â€œIs something wrong?”
    â€œNo. Everything’s fine.” She cursed the tremor in her voice and clasped her hands together. “Chloe’s upstairs. I think she’s trying on some of her new things.”
    He drew his eyebrows together and lifted his gaze to the stairway. For long moments he stood that way, then he turned to her. “Great. Thanks, Bentley. You can go now.”
    She told herself to do just that. She reminded herself that Chloe and Jackson’s problems were none of her concern. She forced a smile. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    After collecting her purse and coat, she started for the door. There, she stopped and looked at Jackson, her heart lurching as she saw that he once again gazed toward the stairs and Chloe’s closed bedroom door. In his expression she saw frustration and fear, she saw a father who yearned for his daughter. And one who had no idea how to reach that daughter.
    Calling herself a dozen kinds of fool, Bentley swung toward him. “Jackson?”
    He dragged his attention from the stairs. “Yes?”
    â€œI…wanted to talk to you about Chloe. Something’s bothering me, and—” She paused, searching for the right words. When they wouldn’t come she settled for the ones that jumped to her tongue. “Don’t you think it’s a little permissive to allow Chloe her own gold card?”
    â€œWhat?” he asked, narrowing his eyes almost imperceptibly.
    â€œA gold card. It just seems—”
    â€œPermissive by whose standards?” he interrupted tightly. “Yours? That’s rich.”
    Bentley stiffened at the sarcasm in his tone. “It just seems to me that by allowing her to shop like that, you’re only reinforcing—”
    â€œI find this odd criticism coming from the queen of the shop-till-you-drop set.” He leveled her a deadly cold stare. “Good night, Bentley.”
    Angry heat flooded her cheeks, and she tipped her chin up. “It wasn’t criticism, it was concern.”
    â€œI see. Well, thank you for your concern. I’ll take it under advisement.” Without another