Jackson and I don’t speak much in the car. Both of us are looking at the new sales figures he received from his secretary when we landed. The numbers look promising and show a shift in the market. I look through a few more emails on my phone, not really paying much attention to where we’re going. I shoot a quick text to Ashton, letting her know we’ve landed safely. About fifteen minutes later, we pull up to a large office building that’s all windows.
I look over at the Cole Security Forces sign and I’m suddenly confused. Clearly, this isn’t the production facility. I glance at Jackson. He’s still engrossed in the figures, so he hasn’t noticed we’ve stopped.
I clear my throat. “Jackson, where are we?”
He looks at the building and back at me. “This is my other company. I run a security force that has contracts all over the world. I need to run in and show face for about ten minutes. Would you like to come in?” His eyes shift back and forth and he sounds genuinely nervous.
Well there’s a surprise. The man owns a cosmetics company and a security company—talk about polar opposites. My eyes widen at his admission and then I recover, smiling softly. “If you’d like me to, sure.”
We both exit the car and head over to the entrance. Jackson places his hand on my shoulder as he opens the door. Just the small touch sends me into overdrive. I tilt my head and give him a small grin as I enter the office.
It’s nothing like Raven Cosmetics. Where that office is almost feminine, this one is modern and masculine with clean lines and distinctive colors. The floors are gray concrete and the walls are cream and royal blue, which makes sense based on the décor from the plane. In the center of the room, there are two big cubicle sections that each seats five people. The left wall is taken up by four large offices with huge mahogany doors.
Jackson clears his throat as we make our way into the space. Three guys stand and smile when they see him. A few other guys stick their hands up, acknowledging his presence, but continue to work.
“Hey, Muffin!” A tall, muscular guy with long light blond hair styled back off his face says as he walks over, smiling. He’s huge and his arms are covered in tattoos, which might be intimidating if he wasn’t so warm and friendly.
“Hey, Mark.” He looks happy to see him. The two men shake hands and clap each other on the shoulder. Mark turns his attention to me with wide eyes and a large, appraising grin. Jackson bristles. “Mark, this is Catherine. She’s the new publicist for the cosmetics company,” he says stiffly.
I smile and extend my hand. “Hi, Mark. Nice to meet you.”
Mark shakes my hand. “Catherine, it’s a pleasure. Sorry you have to work with this prick all day.” He elbows Jackson in the stomach, still smiling at me.
I giggle and reply, “Interesting choice of words. Jackson describes himself a little differently.”
Mark raises his eyebrows, looking intrigued by my statement. “Really? What did Muff describe himself as?”
“Muff?” I ask, completely lost.
He howls in laughter. “Yup. That’s Jackson! He was always a little soft in the middle,”—he leans in—“whereas the rest of us worked out to keep our amazing physiques.” He stands back up, beaming. “So we told him he had a muffin top and that stuck as his call sign.”
I giggle at the nickname and glance at Jackson, who’s shooting daggers at Mark. Turning back to Mark, I ask, “So what’s your call sign?”
Jackson places his hand on the small of my back. “Twilight and I were both on the same team for four years.”
“Twilight? Oh, I gotta hear this!” I laugh. Now it’s Mark’s turn to give Jackson the evil eye.
Jackson chuckles and pulls me against his side. “Notice how pale Mark is?” He asks, jutting his chin out in his direction. I nod. These two are the female versions of Ashton and me. It’s comforting, considering the day I’ve had. “Well he’s so white he could glitter in the sun. One of the guys’ wives had some kind of obsession with that movie, and he kept telling him he could star in Twilight. So Mark here is our glittery, pale Twilight.”
Mark scoffs and puffs his chest out. “I’m proud of my name. At least they aren’t saying I’m a fat ass. That Edward dude had abs like a rock. Besides, I could kick your ass any day, any time,” he challenges, stepping closer to me as he smiles widely.
Jackson raises his chin and addresses me. “He’s an asshole but knows his shit, so he stays—for now.” He smirks at Mark. “And anyway, he knows who’s in charge. Right, Mark?” I can almost smell the testosterone in the room.
Mark laughs and his eyes crinkle. “Keep thinking that, assclown. You need me too much.” He puts his arm around my shoulders, taunting Jackson.
“Right, remember who signs your paycheck.” Jackson raises a brow.
“Anyway, Catherine, this fucknugget gives you any problems, you call me and I’ll kick his ass.”
I instantly love this man. He flashes me that ever-present smile one last time before heading back over to his desk. Jackson grips my hip, grimacing and mumbling something under his breath.
Jackson guides me over to an office and flips on the light before closing the door. It’s large and airy. There are photos all over the wall and I walk over to get a closer look. There are a few of Jackson, Mark, and some other guys drinking and laughing. A few of him on a boat with some friends, looking carefree and happy. My stomach clenches at the next one. He’s standing in camouflage with a huge gun slung across his body, a menacing look on his face. He looks scary yet unbelievably sexy.
“You know …” I say, turning, and then I gasp as he startles me.
I was so lost in the photos I didn’t even realize he was behind me. “What?” He smiles.
Once my heart settles and I can speak again, I remember what I was going to say. “You looked pretty nice in uniform.”
“Nice?” he asks, arching a brow.
“Cute.”
“Cute?” Apparently this is even worse than nice.
I look back at the photo, trying to figure out what he seems bothered over. “What? Is cute not a good word?”
I feel him move in behind me, and I struggle not to lean back into him.
“Cute is for babies and puppies. I can think of at least ten other words to better describe me,” he says against my ear. A shiver races over my body and I have to consciously work to steady my breathing.
I close my eyes and smother the desire burning through me. “Really?” I ask breathily.
“Hot, sexy, buff, handsome, fucking amazing, God’s idea of perfect … I could go on, but any of those would be acceptable,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
I turn to face him. We’re so close physically, but in any other way we’re miles apart. Still, I’m battling every cell in my body not to give in to him.
“Jackson,” I warn.
He takes a small step forward. “I know you’re taken, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”
My brows furrow in confusion. “Taken?”
He looks down at my left hand and brings it up between us. “Aren’t you engaged?” He looks from my eyes back down to my hand where my ring used to sit.
“Oh. Ummm, no. Not anymore. We’re over and have been for a while.” I don’t know what to say. I can’t tell him the guy was Neil. I start to feel panic rising at how ridiculously screwed-up my life is and how all of this can come crumbling so easily.
“That certainly changes things.” His eyes blaze with unspoken promises.
“Changes things? No. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re my client.” Or how I’m a mess over the constant screw-ups from the men in my life. And it definitely doesn’t change how I know with every ounce of my being that Jackson would ruin me if I let him in.
“Catherine, I can’t stay away from you.” His voice penetrates through my thoughts, straight to my heart, and it takes me a second to find my resolve.
He cups my face in his hands, holding me, forcing me to look at him. “Jackson, I’m not with anyone, but this isn’t a good—”
Before I can finish my sentence his mouth is on mine. All at once, I’m surrounded by heat, strength, and power—all that is Jackson. The sparks I felt previously are nothing compared to the inferno raging between us right now. I close my eyes and lose myself in the feel of his mouth on mine. My chest presses against him as he pushes me back against the wall and tilts my head to the side. His tongue is against my lips, begging for entrance. I sigh, which is all the permission he needs. Our tongues swirl together as we kiss with fervor. Lifting my hands, I grip his hips and pull him closer. Wanting to touch his body, I trace my hands across the muscles of his taut back, over his hard arms, across the ridges of his abs. The way he feels against my lips, against my body, against my fingers … it’s incredible. I could kiss him forever—his mouth is heaven. Never have I been kissed like this. Jackson shifts and lifts my head to gain better access, and I willingly give it to him. Pushing and pulling each other, trying to get closer and closer, I moan, causing Jackson to break the kiss.
He rests his head against my forehead as we both struggle to catch our breath. I can feel the shift in him as he sighs loudly. “Fuck! I’m sorry.” He shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.” He leans back and looks over toward his desk.
I snap my head up, wounded and embarrassed by his sudden rejection. His words, the regret in his voice, and his now distant behavior has me in knots. My stomach flops and I feel sick. He kissed me, and now he’s acting like it was a mistake. I don’t want to want him, but I do. As much as I want to fight what I feel for him, I’m not sure I’m strong enough. But maybe I don’t need to be after all. Maybe my concern was all for nothing. His aloof attitude stings, but I shove down my feelings. I can’t let him know he’s hurt me. I won’t let another man destroy me.
I move over to the side of the room and take a deep breath. “Jackson, it’s fine. I should never have crossed that line.” I don’t know what line I actually crossed, but I’ll take the blame. He’s my client, and the last thing I need is for him to fire me. Besides, it will only be a matter of time before he sees the real me and decides he’s better off. My mind is spinning as the pain of his rejection swells. My God, how many times will I do this to myself? You’d think by now I’d realize that every man in my life leaves. They take and take and then I’m left cleaning up the pieces, praying next time will be different.
He moves toward me and stops suddenly. He swallows hard and rubs his hand over his face. He looks sad and angry. “You did nothing wrong!” he snaps and I take a step back. He lifts his head to the ceiling and shakes his head. “You’ve had a lot of shit happen today. I didn’t mean to …” He takes a step forward with his hands by his side, clenched into tight fists. I’m not sure why he’s so angry about it. I thought he enjoyed it, but I guess not.
I put my hands up to stop him—I don’t want to hear it. “Please, just stop. Let’s forget about it, okay? I’m a lot stronger than you think. I’ve dealt with a lifetime of this.” I turn away and look out the window. I don’t trust myself to say any more right now.
“Catherine, please …” he pleads. I hear him step forward but he doesn’t say anything else. It feels like five minutes have passed when I feel his hands on my shoulders. I shrug him off and turn to face him. The look in his eyes stops the hostility I was feeling. He looks devastated, torn. He swallows and his voice is soft, laced with pain. “I’ve wanted and yet not wanted to kiss you for the last two weeks. It isn’t you, I promise. I don’t want to take advantage of the grief you’re feeling.”
I don’t know what to believe. “Okay, let’s just call it what it was—a mistake. It won’t happen again.”
“I’m not sure about that—”
“I am. It won’t happen aga—”
“It won’t happen again on the day you lost a parent,” he says with a small smile. “Don’t misunderstand what I’m saying. I’ve been there. I know the pain you’re feeling. Okay?” He takes a deep breath and looks at the wall of pictures, staring at one in particular. There are so many, I’m not sure which one he’s looking at. However, he was a SEAL—maybe he’s lost friends? My heart breaks for him at the thought, and I want to soothe his pain.
“I’m sorry you’ve lost someone.”
“That’s not for today. Let’s get out of here.” He smiles and walks over to his desk, grabbing some papers. I walk back over to the wall, looking at the photo of Jackson—so strong and lethal. A chill runs down my spine. Jackson comes around to where I’m standing and looks at the photo. He’s close enough that his arm and chest are touching my back, and I know he positioned himself there on purpose. Every time he touches me I lose the ability to think clearly. I step away from him, trying to keep some space between us.
“You done ogling my picture?” he asks.
My jaw drops at his sudden teasing. “I wasn’t ogling. Maybe I was staring at Mark’s picture.” I lift my eyebrows and challenge him.
“I’m sure he would love that.” He smirks and turns to head out of the office.
Before we can leave, Jackson’s called over to handle an issue. I meet a few more people in the office as he’s dealing with things. Once he finishes, we say our good-byes and Jackson assures them that he’ll be back in the office a few times this trip to work over some contracts. Mark and a guy named Ski joke with him, telling him he can only come back if I come with him. He laughs and tells them he’ll think about it. I’m captivated by the way he handles two companies—companies that are on such opposite spectrums. It’s obvious the security company is his passion and evidently he’s good at it, considering some of what I’ve heard here today.
Once we’re back in the car, it appears all the joking and normalcy is gone. He seems distracted. I give him the quiet I assume he’s seeking and try to focus on my own emotions. I press my hands to my lips. I swear I can still feel him. I can smell his cologne on my skin. The car is filled with tense energy. I want to say something but I can’t. I know what his mouth tastes like, feels like. I’m fighting every part of my self-control to kiss him again. But his small rejection reminds me of the ability he has to hurt me. I don’t know if I could handle that again. I promised myself I wouldn’t go there until I was sure the guy was worth it. And right now I’m not sure if Jackson is.