‘I’m thinking goodnight,’ her friend managed, and pushed her out through the door before she could say another word.
Jackson wasn’t sure who he’d expected as Molly’s chaperon. In fact if he’d thought about it at all—which he hadn’t—he would have said that he didn’t expect her to bring anyone—but the bespectacled child at her side was a shock.
As was Molly.
She looked stunning, he thought, watching her approach over the tarmac. There was no other word to describe her. She was about five feet four and neatly packaged, with a handspan waist and a halo of dark curls that bounced about her shoulders.
Yesterday she’d worn a business suit. Today she was wearing jeans and a soft white shirt that buttoned to the throat. It should have made her look prim, but instead it just made her look inviting. She looked fresh as a daisy, and as she got within speaking distance and smiled up at him it took a whole five seconds before he could answer.
‘Good morning.’ She was still smiling, but somehow he forced himself to ignore her lovely smile and tackle the issue at hand. Which was speaking. It should be easy, but it wasn’t.
‘Good morning,’ he managed.
Unknown to Jackson, Molly was doing her own double take. Yesterday in his dark business suit Jackson had seemed very much an urbane man of the world—handsome, but completely out of her league. Dressed today in soft moleskin pants and a short-sleeved shirt, his throat and arms bare, he looked…
Well, he might be having trouble keeping to the business at hand, but so was she!
At least she could concentrate on Sam. ‘Mr Baird, this is my nephew, Sam. Sam, this is Mr Baird.’
So she wasn’t a single mum, Jackson thought. But if not why bring a child? It wasn’t the sort of thing any woman he’d ever dated had done before. But then this was business, he reminded himself. Business! Not a date.
‘Sam’s brought Lionel along with us.’ Molly motioned to the box under Sam’s arm. ‘We hope you don’t mind, but we thought a convalescent farm was just what Lionel needed.’
‘Right.’ The frog. He took a grip, and held out a hand to Sam. They were standing on the helicopter pad and any minute now the machine would roar into life, drowning out all conversation until they wore headsets. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Sam.’
Sam looked gravely up at him as they shook hands, his eyes huge behind his glasses. ‘Are you the man who trod on my frog?’
‘I told you he wasn’t,’ Molly said gently. ‘Mr Baird is the man who bandaged Lionel.’
‘Molly says he might die anyway.’
‘I didn’t say that.’ Molly sighed. ‘I just said frogs don’t live very long.’ She cast a despairing glance at Jackson.
‘I expect he will die,’ Sam said sadly, clasping his box as if there were only a few short frogbeats left to his beloved Lionel. ‘Everything dies.’
Jackson’s gaze flew to Molly’s, and Molly gave an inward shrug. There was nothing like getting to the hub of things fast.
‘Sam’s parents were killed in a car accident six months ago,’ she told him. If she’d had her way she would have warned Jackson, but it was impossible now. Her eyes didn’t leave his, searching for the right response. ‘Since then he’s had a pessimistic outlook on life.’
Jackson nodded gravely, and to her relief his response was curt and to the point. ‘I can understand that. I’m sorry about your family, Sam.’
Move on, Molly’s eyes warned him, and she led the way. ‘I told Sam that Lionel might live for ages yet.’
‘I had a pet frog when I was eight,’ Jackson said thoughtfully, rising to the occasion with aplomb. ‘He lived for two years and then he escaped to find a lady frog. Maybe Lionel will do the same.’
Sam stared at him, disbelief patent. Silence. Let the helicopter start, Molly thought. This silence was desperate. But Jackson and Sam were eyeing each other like two opponents circling in a boxing ring.
Then Jackson seemed to come to a decision. His fast brain had worked overtime and now he stooped so his eyes were at Sam’s level. Man to man.
‘Sam, I’ll tell you something else you might like to know.’ His gaze met the little boy’s and held. Molly was totally excluded. He was focused only on Sam. ‘When I was ten years old my mother died,’ he told him. ‘I thought the end of the world had come, and, like you, I expected everything else to die. I expected it and expected it. It made me desperately frightened. But you know what? No one else died until I was twenty-eight years old. Ancient, in fact.’
Silence while Sam thought this through. Then he said, ‘Twenty-eight’s the same age as Molly.’
Jackson’s deep eyes flashed up to Molly and there was the trace of laughter behind his serious gaze. ‘There you go, then. I told you. Ancient. My grandpa died when I was twenty-eight, but for the time between being ten and being twenty-eight not a sausage died. Not even a frog.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’ He grinned. ‘So maybe you’ll be that lucky.’
‘Maybe I won’t.’
‘But maybe you will.’
Sam considered. ‘I’ve only got Molly left. And Lionel.’
‘They both look healthy to me.’
‘Yeah…’
‘You’re keeping them well fed? Lionel looks good and plump to me, and so does Molly.’
‘Hey!’ That was Molly, but she was far from minding.
For the first time Sam let himself relax. The corners of his mouth twitched into a quickly suppressed smile. ‘That’s silly.’
‘Good feeding is important,’ Jackson told him seriously. ‘You can never overlook it. That and plenty of exercise. I hope you don’t let Molly watch too much TV.’
Sam was grinning now, and the tension had disappeared like magic. ‘She watches yucky programmes. With love and stuff.’
‘Very unhealthy. I’d put a stop to that at once.’ Jackson grinned with the wide, white smile that made Molly know exactly why the women of the world fell in love with him. Oh, for heaven’s sake, the way he was treating Sam she was halfway to falling in love with him herself! She felt like hugging the man! He rose and held out his hand again to Sam. ‘You want to come in my helicopter?’
Sam considered, and the whole world seemed to hold its breath. Then, as if coming to a major decision, Sam put out his hand and placed it in Jackson’s.
‘Yes, please,’ he said.
Molly smiled and smiled, and Jackson looked at her smile and thought suddenly, It’s going to be a great weekend.
He hadn’t expected efficiency. From the time he’d walked into Trevor Farr’s office, Jackson had suspected if he wanted to find anything about Hannah Copeland’s property he’d have to do it himself. But Molly’s preparation stunned him. As soon as they were in the air she handed over titles, building plans, profit and loss statements, staff lists…
‘How did you do this?’
‘We do the same for all our clients.’
‘Now, why don’t I believe that?’
She threw him a wry grin. In truth this was the sort of property deal she loved—a farm with broad acres. She’d had to work until three this morning, but the presentation he had was first rate. Just like old times.
‘Stop casting aspersions and read,’ she ordered, so he did. But more and more he was aware of Molly and Sam in the seat opposite. Woman