Brenda Jackson - What The Millionaire Wants... - What the Millionaire Wants... / Spencer's Forbidden Passion

“I’m not most people,” she informed him.

“No, you’re not. Maybe that’s why you intrigue me, Laura Spencer.”

Unsure how to respond, Laura chose to remain silent and spent the final minutes of the drive looking out the window, trying to ignore the man seated beside her. Eager to escape the intimacy of the darkened car, she was already unbuckling her seat belt as the taxi pulled up to the entrance of the park.

“This is as far as I can take you, folks,” the driver informed them as he parked the car. “No driving tours allowed anymore, not since Katrina.”

After paying the taxi driver, Jack joined her in line.

“Since you paid for the taxi, I’ll take care of the entry fees.”

But before she could even open her wallet, he handed the admission clerk a crisp fifty-dollar bill. “I’ve got it,” he said. “You can buy us coffee later.”

Too eager to see the display to argue with him, Laura said nothing. Once they had their hands stamped, they walked into the park and she entered a virtual wonderland of lights. She tried to take in everything at once—the towering oak trees dripping with white lights that looked like stars, the Christmas trees and storybook characters fashioned from lights, the delight on the faces of the children as they spied Santa Claus.

“Is it like you remembered it?”

Laura glanced to her side and realized Jack was watching her. “Yes. And no. A lot of it’s the same, but it’s different, too. There used to be more trees, more lights,” she explained as the two of them began to walk through the park. “There was a road over there where cars could drive through and see all the lights. On the really cold or rainy nights, that’s what a lot of people did. There were also horse-drawn carriages you could take the tour in. When Chloe and I were younger, we used to sing ‘Jingle Bells’ and pretend we were riding in a one-horse open sleigh.”

“A sleigh, huh?”

She didn’t have to look at him. She could hear the smile in his voice. Laughing, she shrugged. “What can I say? We’re snow-deprived Southerners.”

He laughed.

The sound surprised her. It was the first time she’d actually heard him laugh. Unable to resist, she sneaked a peek up at him. He was smiling, and not just that slight twitch at the corners of his mouth, but an honest-to-goodness smile that revealed perfect teeth and radiated in his eyes. For the first time since she’d met him, Jackson Hawke actually looked happy, she thought. And she wasn’t sure why, but knowing that she was responsible made her feel warm inside.

“Is that a train I hear?” he asked.

“Yes,” Laura told him, suddenly enjoying herself. “There’s a miniature train ride that goes through the park and there’s this huge elevated train exhibit that has these tiny replicas of the streetcars and historic buildings and landmarks around New Orleans. It’s like a mini-version of the city. Come on, I’ll show it to you.”

Laura showed him the train exhibit. She showed him Storyland. She showed him the vintage rides in the Carousel Gardens, sadly pointing out that several were no longer working because of the damage they’d sustained in the storm. She showed him the gallery of Christmas trees decorated with handmade ornaments made by local schoolchildren that lined the walkways of the Carousel Gardens. Finally, she showed him her favorite part of the exhibit—the antique wooden carousel. “It’s more than a hundred years old,” she told him and explained how the severity of the storm and the exposure to water had left the carousel inoperable. “I know it doesn’t look all that great now because the paint is faded and chipped and so much of the gilding still needs to be redone, but you should have seen it before the storm. It was beautiful.”

“I’m sure it was. It’s amazing it even survived the storm.”

“It’s a miracle. I just hope they’ll be able to get the funds they need to restore it. Since the park doesn’t get any state or federal funding, the only money for repairs has to come from donations and admissions. With the population half of what it was pre-Katrina, there’s less money.” She sighed. “It would be such a shame if other little girls and boys never got to ride on it like I did.”

“Boys, don’t run,” a harried-looking and very pregnant woman called out to the twin boys wearing green jackets and matching hats who were streaking toward them. “Please, would you catch them for me?”

“Whoa,” Jack said, reaching out and corralling them. “Hey, buddies, what do you say we wait for your mom?”

“You’re big,” one of the boys said. “Are you a Saints football player?” he asked, referring to the city’s beloved team.

“Afraid not. But you guys are so fast, I bet you could play for them when you get big.”

“I’m so sorry,” the woman said as she reached them. She smoothed a hand over her stomach. “Their little sister makes keeping up with them harder than it used to be.”

“Not a problem,” Jack told her. “We were just chatting about football. I think you’ve got yourself two running backs in the making here.”

The woman laughed and ruffled their heads. “Their daddy would love that. In fact, he’s home watching Sunday-night football right now. I must have been out of my mind to not make him come with me.”

“We’re going to see The Cajun Night Before Christmas exhibit,” one of the boys said.

“Are you now?” Jack replied.

Both boys nodded. “It’s supposed to be just like the book. If you want to see it, you just need to follow this road.”

“Over there?” he asked, pointing in the direction they’d indicated.

“Yeah.”

Still hunkered down beside the boys, Jack lowered his voice and said, “You know, I could have sworn I saw one of Santa’s elves hiding up in one of those trees over there.”

Both boys’ eyes grew wide as they looked toward the trees. “Really?”

Jack nodded. “I figure they must be here, checking out the boys and girls and reporting to Santa which ones are extra good. You boys might want to walk with your mom so they can tell Santa how good you two are.”

“Come on, Mom. You’d better hold our hands and take it slow.”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t run. You might trip or something,” the other twin added.

“Thanks,” the woman mouthed as she and her sons headed in the direction of the trees with the elves.

“That was really sweet of you. I’m sure their mother was very grateful,” Laura told him, touched by his actions.

“Hey, I was telling the truth. I think I did see an elf in those trees,” he said, smiling once again.

“Which tree?”

“That one right over there,” he said and, grabbing her by the hand, he brought her several yards back from the road and pointed up to a huge oak. “That one. I saw a pair of little green eyes peeking out of those branches.”

Laura peered up at the branches in question. “I don’t see anything,” she told him and when she turned to look at him, the smile dissolved on her lips. He was still holding her hand and he was watching her with an intensity, with a longing, that stole her breath.

She didn’t know how it happened. She didn’t know if he took another step toward her or if she moved toward him. Then his mouth was on hers. The kiss was gentle, slow, just a simple brushing of lips against lips. Then she felt the tip of his tongue. Sighing, she opened her mouth to him. Heat exploded inside her and just when her senses hit overload, he was easing back, ending the kiss. Still dazed and wondering why he had stopped, she heard the voices. A family was approaching on the path near them.

“I didn’t think you would want an audience,” he said simply.