Elisabeth pulled into the drive at three minutes to six. Jackson felt his pulse quicken.
"She's here!" Exclaimed Sarah.
Connor grabbed her arm. "Honey, let's go in the kitchen for a few minutes and not bowl the poor woman over before she gets in the door." Jackson was starting to like this guy.
He opened the door before she made it half way up the walk, and as usual she left him breathless. Approaching, she exclaimed, "What a beautiful estate! I have been by before and admired it."
Jackson kissed her and looked out at the blue Jaguar. He repeated her comment about the Porsche, "Nice wheels."
She laughed. "Maybe I'll let you drive it one day."
Sarah floated into the room as Jackson took Elisabeth's coat. Connor had lost the battle. He had evidently decided to hang back a little longer.
"Elisabeth Sidwell… Sarah Carrington."
"Carrington?" Elisabeth noted the different last name.
Jackson pretended to whisper, but said loud enough for anyone to hear, "Messy divorce. We don't talk about it." Sarah glared at him. She always claimed to be a widow. They had discussed choosing one surname many years back, but their names were the only connection that remained to their human lives, so decided against it.
Sarah took her hand. "How do you do. I'm so happy to meet you."
"Glad to meet you too. Thank you for inviting me to your home." Elisabeth appraised Jackson then Sarah. "That is quite a gene pool you two have."
They all laughed and Jackson said, "Let me get drinks." The women delved into small talk, and as Jackson turned, he noticed Connor standing stone still in the middle of the room, staring at Elisabeth. He brushed by him on his way to the bar and snarled under his breath, "You better close that mouth before I shove my fist in it."
Connor jumped. "Sorry."
Jackson smiled to himself. He knew there wasn't a straight man alive who wouldn't have that exact reaction to her. While Jackson made drinks, Sarah introduced Connor who was thinking, cripes another one. Guess I'm the ugly duckling in this group. Connor Poe was a handsome man by anyone's standards, however, the other three were in a league of their own.
The drinks were passed out and they sat. Sarah was asking Elisabeth about her art when she stopped mid-sentence, spotting her feet. "Are those the new Zanotti's?"
"Yes, I'm a bit of a shoeaholic."
Sarah jumped up, took both her hands and screeched, "Come with me!" As she was practically being dragged up the stairs, Elisabeth looked back at Jackson. He shrugged as if to say, "Sorry, I can't help you."