He glanced toward the living room where Isabella and the dog were curled up on the couch together. "What I adore is the change in Isabella since Madam arrived."
To his concern, tears welled up in Annalise's eyes. "She's blossomed, hasn't she?"
"Oh, yeah." He wished he'd been able to bring about such a notable change in his niece, but he'd take it however it happened. The important thing was Isabella's recovery. "I've also sicced my PI on the boys who dumped her. When I track them down, I intend to explain the error of their ways in terms they won't ever forget."
"Good." She glared with unexpected ruthlessness. "I don't suppose you have the power to arrange for them to volunteer at their local animal shelter? Maybe that will underscore the lesson."
"Trust me. I'll find a way to make it happen." He grimaced, turning his attention to more immediate matters. "Now all I have to do is figure out how to keep that four-legged disaster from laying waste to my home."
She caught her lip between her teeth, a frown forming between her eyebrows. "What are you going to do?"
"I've already done it." He'd given the matter a lot of thought before reaching a decision and calling his housekeeper with instructions. "I asked Sara to arrange to have most of the furniture and antiques put into storage for the time being."
Annalise gave him an odd look. "Generations of Mason antiques? You'd put them in storage so Isabella can have a dog?"
"Hell, yes. Trust me, it'll make a vast improvement. That place isn't kid friendly, let alone dog friendly. I should have made the change when Isabella first came to live with me." He took the trash can from her and carried it into the kitchen. "I can remember tiptoeing around that mausoleum when my grandmother lived there, afraid if I breathed wrong I might break some Louis the Umpteenth or Early American Irreplaceable. That's no way for a little girl to live."
"No," Annalise agreed softly. A wobbly smile broke across her face. "It's not. Thank you for putting her best interests first."
"Of course I'm putting her best interests first," he retorted, insulted. "Did you think I wouldn't?"
"At first, perhaps." She offered a self-conscious shrug. "You do have a reputation, Jack. And it's not the sort that suggests you'd be indulgent toward the vagaries of a child. I have to admit I was concerned when I read you'd taken custody of your niece."
He stiffened. "Were you?"
She must have realized it wasn't the most tactful remark she could have made because she winced. "You felt duty bound to take her in, didn't you?"
He couldn't deny it. "Yes."
He watched her choose her words with care. "Some in your position might believe that giving Isabella a home fulfilled that duty. A more unfeeling man would turn her over to a nanny with a clear conscience and go back to business as usual."
An arctic wind blew across his soul. "Most who know me would describe me as just that sort of man. It's who my father raised me to be." Why couldn't she see that? Couldn't she sense the coldness in him, the absence of any ability to love? He was driven to ask, needed to see himself through her eyes. "What makes you think I'm not like that?"
She grinned, her eyes full of warm, golden sunshine. "I've had an opportunity to get to know you. Just in the short time we've been together, I can tell you're not that sort of man."
"You're wrong. I'm exactly that sort of man." He couldn't explain why he was driven to argue the point, other than he needed her to face reality, to see him for who and what he was. "That's why I hired you. I wanted someone who could take care of my niece, leaving me free to get back to living my life on my terms."
She waved his confession aside as thought it were of no concern. "Maybe at first. But as soon as you set eyes on your niece, you changed your mind. You're happy to take an active role in Isabella's life."
"I am?"
Her grin widened. "You're here, aren't you? And you've told me you'll do whatever it takes to retain custody of her. Why do you think you're doing that? It's because you're a softy at heart."
"That's a damn lie. You take it back right now."
She swept him a mocking bow. "Of course, Mr. Mason. I absolutely take it back. After all, you're only a man who's taken in his niece when she had no one else, taken a leave of absence from a multi-billion-dollar company in order to spend time with her, adopted a stray dog, stripped his possessions from his house to accommodate said dog and niece. Why, I've never met anyone more deserving of the name Scrooge."
"That's me. Just call me Ebenezer."
Annalise shot him a sparkling look. "So, tell me, Eb. Is there anything you wouldn't do for Isabella?"
"No, there isn't." Time to turn the tables. "But I suspect the eventual question will be … Is there anything you wouldn't do?"
Annalise's amusement faded. "What do you mean?"
"One of these days I'm going to ask you for a favor that will help my niece," he warned. "I just wonder how you'll answer when that time comes."
She didn't hesitate. "That's easy." To his surprise, she returned his gaze with one weighted with grim determination. "I'll do whatever it takes, too."
He nodded in satisfaction. "Good answer. And just so you know … " He leaned in. Unable to help himself, he brushed her mouth with his, reveling in the brief flash of heat. "I intend to hold you to that promise."
Their remaining days at the bungalow took on a surreal quality. As Jack had warned, the dog threatened to eat them out of house and home. Within days she put on enough weight to hide her painfully thin rib cage, though Jack suspected that might also have something to do with the treats Annalise and Isabella were sneaking the dog whenever his back was turned.
The days flashed by, exhausting, exhilarating and filled with warmth and laughter and plain, old-fashioned fun. He'd never seen Isabella so carefree, even though she still refused to speak. Between Annalise and Madam she was mothered to within an inch of her life.
Not that he was left out of the mix. As often as his niece could be found in Annalise's arms or sprawled across Madam's back, she spent an equal amount of time curled up in his lap. He hoped their familial connection helped heal her grief the way it helped heal his. Their time together seemed to be making a difference, but he could still sense an undercurrent of sorrow that he had no idea how to reach, let alone assuage. As though sensing his mixed emotions, Madam would rumble over to rest her huge head on his knee and offer licks of reassurance while Annalise watched with her incandescent smile. That smile made him long for something else, something more. Something that would complete their family unit.
But the true breakthrough happened one morning shortly before they were scheduled to leave. The sun had barely broken the plane of the horizon when his bedroom door banged open and the next instant his mattress overflowed with dog, niece, doll and a huge picture book that smacked him square in the jaw as Isabella snuggled down next to him.
"Baby Belle?" he asked sleepily. "What's wrong?"
She shoved the book into his hands and patted it, blinking up at him with absurdly long lashes. Her dimple flashed. Madam settled her huge head on his spare pillow with a wide yawn and promptly went back to sleep.
"You want me to read to you?" Jack asked. She nodded, leaning her head against his chest. Her halo of curls, still pillow-ruffled, were downy soft and seemed to have a mind of their own. A sudden memory came to him. "This is … this is Family Bed, isn't it?" he asked gruffly.
She nodded and patted the book again. Before he could gather himself sufficiently to read, he heard Annalise shuffling in the general direction of his niece's bedroom.
"Isabella? Madam? Hey, where is everyone?"
"She's in here," he called. "We're all in here."