But all teasing aside, their stay here thus far had been blissful and relaxing, exactly what Jackson had needed after spending both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with his overbearing family. Christmas Eve dinner had been held at his brother Grant’s house this year (Grant and Alex switched off each year), while Christmas Day was always spent at his parents home. Once again, it had been a lavish, multi-course, very formal meal, and the only thing that had made the ordeal bearable for Jackson was spending time with Hannah. He still marveled at what a difference a year could make, and what a miracle it was that she was expected to make a complete recovery from the leukemia that had very nearly taken her from them.
And he had his own miracle to be grateful for he thought now, as he continued to stare at the impish redhead submerged in a sea of bubble bath. Not only had Scarlett saved Hannah, but she’d made him happier than he’d ever been. There had to be a way, he thought with determination, for the two of them to continue to be together. What they had was too special, too deep, to simply walk away from or give up on. If it was the last thing he did, if it cost him just about everything else he held dear, he was going to figure out a way to keep Scarlett by his side for a very, very long time to come.
“You’re frowning,” she told him chidingly. “That usually means you’re thinking about stuff too hard. And you’re the one who told me - multiple times - that we’re not supposed to be thinking about stuff like work or school or senior thesis or - God forbid - your family for the next couple of days.”
He nodded. “You’re right. Tonight is about having another great dinner, followed by ringing in the New Year with my girl - twice. Once at the party, and the second time after we get back to our room.”
Jackson waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively which earned him a knowing smirk.
“Yeah?” she challenged. “Well then, you’d better hope this hot bath does the trick. Because certain body parts would not feel much like celebrating, if you get my drift.”
He snickered as he knelt beside the old-fashioned claw foot tub she was submerged in, grinning wickedly as he ran a finger along the outline of her plush lips. “Good thing you have more than one body part that’s capable of ringing in the New Year,” he whispered, then leaned in to claim those same lips in a long, slow kiss.
Scarlett hooked a damp arm around his neck, pulling him in closer as the kiss continued. He should have known, however, not to underestimate her, or imagine for one second that she would allow his taunt - no matter how playfully uttered - to go unanswered.
“Son of a bitch!” he yelped, pulling away abruptly as she gleefully splashed a huge wave of bath bubbles into his face.
Jackson waggled a finger at her warningly as he wiped off his face with a towel. “You little devil,” he muttered. “You are definitely going to pay for that, babe.”
She blew him a kiss. “Counting on it.”
***
“Less than ten minutes until the New Year. You need a refill on your champagne?”
Scarlett shook her head, holding up the elegant crystal flute that was still two thirds full. “I’m good, thanks. I’ll have a hard time finishing this. Not a big fan of the bubbly, even though I can tell this is good stuff.”
Jackson nodded as he slipped his arm around her waist. “Yep. Everything at a Gregson hotel is always first class. I’ve stayed at a few around the country and a couple of times in Europe, even though it pissed my father off.”
She arched a brow inquisitively. “Let me guess. He tried to bid on building or remodeling one of their hotels but lost out and he’s holding a grudge.”
He grinned. “Perceptive as always, babe. And yeah, that about sums it up. The Gregson people did a major expansion of their Tucson resort a few years back and basically told my dad - very politely, of course, because it’s a British company - that his ideas sucked. He refuses to patronize any of their hotels now, so I have to sort of keep it a secret whenever I stay in one.”
“Your father’s something of a spoiled child, isn’t he?” she remarked. “When he doesn’t get his way it seems like he pouts about it an awful lot.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” scoffed Jackson. “Pouting wouldn’t be all that bad. It’s the temper tantrums, the foul moods, and the unreasonable behavior that are impossible to live with.”
“So why do you, then?” she asked quietly. “I know we’ve discussed this before, and that back then your reason for hanging around was because of Hannah. How does the fact that she seems well on her road to recovery change that?”
He hesitated for several seconds before replying. “I guess it should, right? So maybe it’s time for me to re-think my future, even though breaking away from the family firm - and the family - would be pretty gut-wrenching.”
Scarlett squeezed his bicep reassuringly. “Well, no need to think about it tonight then. And, sorry, I didn’t mean to put a damper on the festivities.”
He pressed a kiss to the top of her curly head. “I know. But you do raise a good point, and I will give it some serious thought. Not tonight, though. Especially since it’s now less than five minutes until New Year’s. Come on, let’s grab a good spot for the balloon drop.”
She placed her hand in his and let him tug her along towards the center of the crowded ballroom. Evidently the New Year’s Eve dinner and party at this fancy resort hotel was a popular event, and their waiter had told them it was completely sold out. Scarlett was relieved that she’d dressed up, since a quick glance around the room revealed that every occupant was garbed in their finest. Many of the men were even wearing tuxedos, though Jackson had chosen a charcoal gray suit and burgundy silk tie to wear tonight.
Still, she’d been a bit taken aback to see him so dressed up, as used as she was to seeing him in his usual jeans and T-shirts. He’d admitted that he hated dressing up as much as she did, one of the many reasons why he preferred to work out in the field at job sites rather than inside the office cooped up at a desk.
But it was pretty damn obvious that he wore the suit well, and that it had more than likely been custom made for him. She knew next to nothing about fashion or designers, but even she had recognized the Armani label on the inside of the suit’s jacket. And he did, she thought with a little smile, look awfully hot in the tailored wool trousers and jacket, worn with a crisp white shirt and the aforementioned tie.
Jackson being Jackson, though, had foregone shaving today, and his dark stubble gave him the look of a rebel that set him apart from the largely stuffy masculine crowd here this evening. But as gorgeous as he looked in his expensive suit, Scarlett decided that she would always prefer him in his jeans, T-shirt, and work boots. Or, she thought naughtily, wearing nothing at all.
He squeezed her hand. “Now, what’s that little smile all about? And I can tell from the gleam in your eyes that you’re probably up to no good.”
Scarlett grinned, running the flat of her palm up along his abdomen. “Au contraire. What I happen to be thinking about is actually something very, very good. Specifically, how good you look underneath these fancy duds.”