Inherited:OneChild(17)

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."