Leslie LaFoy by Jacksons Way Read Free Book Online Page B

her. “My bags are at the Dunmurphy. Send someone for them, will you?”
    She paused just across the threshold and turned back. “Your wish is my command,” she said dryly, dropping an abbreviated curtsy.
    Jackson watched her go. Lindsay MacPhaull was a very interesting woman. He'd always respected and admired the man Billy had been. But not once had he ever thought of how he'd feel about Billy's traits turning up in a woman. It was… well, both fascinating and a little unsettling. Like her daddy, Lindsay MacPhaull had a whole range of poker acts and could switch between them at the drop of a hat. Who she really was underneath it all remained to be seen. He was fairly certain he'd gotten the foundation right, though. She hadn't so much as blinked when he'd laid the brutal truths about business reality out on the table. No matter how badly things might have gotten, Billy never flinched. It looked as though Lindsay was made of the same stern stuff.
    And damn if she didn't have the same sort of attraction to high risk that her father had. Jackson remembered the look in her eyes as he'd expounded on the consequences of the Panic. He hadn't bothered to keep the anger and frustration out of his voice. And she hadn't bothered to hide her fascination with both. It had taken every bit of his self-control to hold the distance between them. He'd been so damn tempted to step up to the unspoken challenge and see just what she'd do about it. It had been the suspicion that she wouldn't back down that had kept him planted againstthe desk. He'd have pushed and she'd have pushed back and the odds were that they'd have ended up on the carpet together, a snarling tangle of arms and legs and …
    Jackson expelled a hard breath and sat down in the chair. He needed to focus on the business at hand. He had less than sixty days to figure the lay of the land, get what he needed out of it, and get gone. Lindsay MacPhaull was off-limits. She was Billy's daughter and he didn't need that kind of guilt riding his coattails. Besides, he couldn't afford the luxury of distraction, no matter how pretty it was, no matter how much he wanted it. More often than not, it came with a price he couldn't afford to pay. He'd learned that lesson the hardest way a man could.
    Pulling the papers from the valise, he willed himself to focus on the flat, emotionless words of the correspondence.
    L INDSAY PAUSED AT the housekeeper's door and drew a steadying breath. Before her resolve could desert her, she knocked and called, “Mrs. Beechum? I'm sorry to disturb you, but I need a few moments of your time.”
    “One moment, dear,” came the instant reply.
    The door was thick enough to prevent Lindsay from hearing small sounds from the other side, but she didn't need to. Mrs. Beechum was desperately trying to compose herself so that neither one of them would be forced to acknowledge their grief over Richard Patterson's collapse. Lindsay shook her head and smiled wryly. Richard Patterson was the only matter on which Abigail Beechum kept her silence. Everything else was fair game.
    A hard metallic click instantly brought Lindsay back to the matter at hand. The door swung open and, taking her cue from her housekeeper, Lindsay pasted a serene smile on her face and pretended that she didn't know that Mrs. Beechum had been crying.
    “As I said,” Lindsay began, “I'm sorry to disturb you, but I'm afraid that matters simply won't wait. May I come in?”
    “Oh, dear, do forgive my lapse in manners,” the middle-aged woman said in sincere apology as she stepped back. “My mind is so scattered this morning. I just brought a potof tea down to settle my nerves a bit. Would you care for a cup, Miss Lindsay?”
    It was a comforting ritual they'd shared over the years; a little ceremony they both used to erase the formal boundaries that normally separated employer from employee. Relief surging through her, Lindsay stepped into the room, saying, “Gladly, and thank you. Shall I