‘What is he-a tree frog?’ he asked Molly gently, and Molly wiped angry tears away with the back of her free hand. She sniffed and nodded.

‘Yes.’

‘And Mr Francis, here-my lawyer-has injured it?’

‘I don’t like insects,’ Roger muttered.

‘He’s not an insect-’ Molly started, but Jackson was still in control. Once again his voice cut through. ‘It does seem hard that Miss Farr should injure her hand, see her pet hurt and lose her job all on the one day.’

Carefully he opened Molly’s hand and took the frog into his own. Then he stood, solidly big, immaculately groomed-with a tiny green tree frog cradled in his palm.

A swipe of black hair flicked over his eyes and he brushed it back. The man needed a haircut-or maybe he didn’t. There weren’t many women who’d complain about how Jackson Baird looked.

And he looked amazing now. The tiny green frog, gazing upward with frog-like incomprehension, accentuated the sheer size and raw strength of the man. And yet he was all gentleness as his fingers carefully examined the tiny creature.

Trevor stared down at the frog in disgust, his expression squeamish. Wildlife had never been his strong point. ‘Of all the ridiculous… Give it to me, Mr Baird, and I’ll find a brick.’

But Jackson was concentrating entirely on the frog. ‘You know, it looks a simple break, and there doesn’t appear to be any more damage. I think we can fix this.’

Molly took a deep breath. And then another. She sat up, pulled her skirt down over her tights until she was almost respectable, and gazed up at Jackson in disbelief. ‘You’re kidding.’

He looked down at her… And then looked again.

She really was extraordinary, Jackson thought, taking her in for the first time. She had pale, almost translucent skin, a mop of glossy dark curls that clung around her face, huge brown eyes…

Frog! Concentrate on the frog, Baird, he reminded himself.

‘Really,’ he told her. ‘We can’t put it in a cast-’