Beloved (9 page)

He chuckles at my attempt at professionalism. “Oh, let me assure you, this project is quickly becoming my favorite,” he says with amusement, looking me up and down. His deep, sexy voice travels straight to my core. “The more I think about it, the more I think I’m going to enjoy working with you.”

I lick my lips as I stare at his mouth. I need to get it together. This is my job. He’s just a man, a very sexy and fuckable man, but still—he’s my client. I’m not about to be seduced by his gorgeous face or ripped abs and defined arms—nope, not going to happen.

Bring on the delusions.

I smile tentatively. “Shall we get to our meeting?” I ask as my voice shakes, betraying my nerves.

“We’re going to play it that way, are we?” He smirks, obviously amused. “Okay, Ms. Pope. Right this way,” he says as he looks directly into my eyes, saying so much more with his body than with his mouth. His perfectly formed, totally kissable—

My thoughts are scattered. I want to run back into the elevator and tell him to give the account to Boyce. I don’t know how I’m going to be around him for days on end. We’ve spent a total of five minutes together and he already has me in hyperdrive.

“Thank you,” I mumble.

He extends his arm, showing me where to go. I shift my purse on my shoulder and begin walking. When he places his hand on the small of my back, I shiver inadvertently. I feel his warmth through my shirt, burning my skin. I’m mentally berating myself for acting like this.

“Are you cold?” he asks with humor in his voice, somehow aware his touch is wreaking havoc on me.

I turn and look directly in his eyes, hoping to convey my own message of strength and defiance. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.” I was strong and confident this morning, but now I feel like I’m on the edge of a cliff. I smile and straighten my back, trying to walk past him as he stands in the doorway. He’s left me very little room to get through, though, so I shift to the side, scooting by without touching him. Of course, it’s impossible and my arm slides against his, causing goose bumps to form in the wake of our skin-to-skin contact.

His office is nothing like I would have imagined. It has a feminine feel to it. He has a glass desk table with a high-back chair. The walls are cream and the couch is a light lilac color. There are no photos, no personal touches throughout the room. I fight the urge to laugh—this is definitely not a man’s office.

Jackson clears his throat again and I wonder if it’s a nervous habit of his. Could he be as nervous as I am? “I just moved into this office,” he begins, pausing as if carefully weighing his next words. “The person before me was obviously a female. Danielle was the acting CEO for the last ten months. I haven’t had time to change anything.” He closes his eyes, looking almost pained. I have the strangest urge to comfort him, but I resist.

“I understand. But for the record, purple’s not your color.” I sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk and start to get out my mock boards and planning sheet.

“No? And what color would you recommend, Ms. Pope?” Jackson asks, smiling.

“Hmmm, I’d say pink.” I look around before returning my gaze to him. “Definitely pink.”

Jackson comes around and sits in the chair next to me instead of behind the desk. His cologne assaults my senses as I inhale, breathing in all its masculinity. It’s even better than I remember and so much stronger.

I open my eyes to see him staring at me with a wide smile. He shifts in his seat and props his arm on the back of mine. “Pink, huh? Well only real men wear pink, and I assure you, Catherine, I’m all the real you’ll ever need.”

I cough, trying to regain my focus as his eyes bore into me.

“So, fall on any more men at dinner lately?”

And there it is.

“Actually, no. Thanks for being concerned, though.” I laugh while shaking my head.

“Good to know. I’d be jealous if you had.”

“Anyway, I brought the mock-up and I emailed Danielle the video.”

“I saw the video. It’s the reason you’re here now and not the other company.” His compliment washes over me. He didn’t hire me because he knew me, no. It was because of my vision and my plan for his company.

“I’m glad I impressed you.”

Jackson shifts in his chair and crosses his leg, getting closer to me. “I’m hoping there are many ways you’ll endeavor to impress me.” His tone is light and joking, but his eyes suggest the truth in his words.

He can’t touch me or I’ll crack. I try to move back in my chair, but there’s nowhere to go. I stand and start to pace. I’m nervous, wound up, and out of my element.

“Mr. Cole—”

“Jackson. You should call me Jackson. We’ll be together a lot,” he cuts me off. I turn to look out the window, trying to gather my thoughts.

I’m freaking out. I can’t do my job and work with
him
. I can’t think straight around him—he’s too much. Too sexy. Too intense. Too all-consuming. How am I going to do this? I can’t focus around him and if Jackson touches me, I’ll crumble. On the other hand, if I walk away from this account, I’ll never get the promotion. Shit. I could lose my job. Wouldn’t that be the icing on Neil’s cake? He would get the account and I’d be unemployed. No. No way. I can do this. I have to be strong.

I really need a vacation from my life.

I turn and he’s standing so close behind me that I almost collide with him. “Mr.—Jackson, I think we should go over your company’s goals and make a plan. It’s getting late.”

Jackson walks over behind his desk and sits in his chair. I follow, returning to the chair I was in before, thankful for the desk between us. If I can maintain distance and space with zero physical contact, then I can keep the account and my job. Let’s see how long this plan will last.

“How about we grab dinner?” he casually says.

“Dinner?”

“Yes, you know that meal that comes after lunch. I haven’t eaten yet and you probably haven’t either.” His eyes don’t waver from mine.

“I can’t. I have to do—”

“I’m pretty sure the stipulation was that you’re available whenever I need you.” He raises his brow as he taps his fingers on his desk.

“Yes, but we’ve yet to sign our contract.” I smile sweetly, but I can’t keep the exasperation out of my voice.

He stands and walks around the desk slowly. Each step is measured and deliberate. Every moment stirs something within me. My anxiety is already sky-high. I can’t take much more of this tonight. When he’s finally in front of me, he leans back on his desk and his voice drops when he asks, “Where’s the contract?”

I reach into my bag and pull out the paperwork that will solidify the deal. This is my last chance to walk away from him. I’ll have to see him, smell him, be around him, and there will be no backing out without me losing everything. Once he signs this, it’s over. I hold the papers in my hand, which is visibly shaking from my poorly concealed unease. Jackson reaches out, silently asking me to hand it over.

I stand and walk toward him with the contract extended between us. He grabs it and leans on his desk, signing on the dotted line without even reading it. Jackson puts the pen down and turns back to me. Though he doesn’t voice it, his expression says, “Gotcha.”

“Well, Ms. Pope, there’s no turning back now.”

I bite my bottom lip and my stomach drops as Jackson hands me back the signed contract. Oh God, what did I just do? I’m so stupid and in so much trouble. It’s as if he has some inside knowledge of what makes me tick, like he sees right through my layers of bullshit, straight to my libido. No man has ever made me this unbalanced. Even when Neil and I first started dating, I don’t think I was ever this scattered. But with Jackson I’m a mess.

I stare into his beautiful eyes. They’re dancing with humor. He smirks and holds my gaze, unwilling to break away first. Both of us struggle to gain the upper hand, knowing whomever breaks first is somehow showing they’re weaker than the other. I hold my eyes steady and smile, hoping they aren’t showing the internal war going on inside my head. I need to say something and put an end to this. “Mr. Cole, thank you for signing the contract. I really do need to go now.”

“We just made a deal and I told you to call me Jackson, twice. Now, let’s head to dinner,” he commands, his voice leaving no room for discussion.

“Jackson, please.” I take a deep breath, my eyes begging for understanding. “I really can’t tonight.” I have no good reason and if he pushes me, I’ll cave. My only reason is he scares me. I don’t trust myself around him.

He stands and walks over to my chair again. He grasps my chin between his finger and rough thumb. The feel of his skin against mine causes my pulse to race. I’m sure he can hear it. Just like the first night we met, he holds my face steady as he stares into my eyes, searching for something. “Fine, not tonight. However, I need you to meet me here Monday by 9 a.m. There are a few meetings I want you to sit in on with the production team and then we leave for Virginia on Friday.”

“Virginia?” I ask, completely thrown off.

“Yes, it’s a state a few states below New York.” His grin grows and his dimple deepens with his taunting.

“I know where Virginia is.”
Ass.
“I wasn’t aware you had an office there.”

“Our production plant is there. I’d like you to fly out with me this week, see some of the new products that are being developed, and tell me your ideas for future campaigns. If this one goes well, hopefully we can work together on a more permanent basis.” He raises an eyebrow suggestively.

I shift in my seat and try to calm my heart, which is threatening to fly out of my chest. Future campaigns? Ugh! This would solidify my career at CJJ. There’s no way I can refuse him. Damn him and his gorgeous face. “Okay, next Friday will be fine. I can meet you here Monday morning as well.”

Jackson grabs my bag and offers his hand to help me stand. I take it and the contact causes heat to pool in my center, again. A simple touch is all it takes for me to become a puddle at his feet. Who am I kidding? All it took was the sound of his voice. I turn my head away, trying to hide any emotions showing on my face. He gently pulls me up. He’s close, so close. It’s like he’s everywhere. His cologne, the warmth of his body—it’s all encompassing.

Feeling overwhelmed and dizzy, I start to tilt. Jackson moves his hand to my hip to steady me. His deep voice does nothing to calm my nerves. “Easy. You don’t want to fall into my arms again.”

“Yes, that would be a tragedy.” I blink hard, shaking my head and trying not to focus on the way my body is heating from his touch.

“I wouldn’t go that far. I can think of far worse places to land. The ground for one.”

I laugh and try to take a step back, but I’m stuck. “Right. I have a feeling I’m going to pay for that for a long time.”

“What? Me catching you? I would’ve let it go if you’d stayed and had a drink with us.” He smirks.

If there were ever a time I wanted the ground to open and swallow me, this is it. “If this is going to be my punishment, I almost wish you would’ve let me fall,” I kid.

“Now where would the fun in that be?”

I nod and start to head toward the door. “I really have to go. I’ll see myself out. Thank you for your time.” I turn my back and exit his office.

I should have known he’d follow me. I sense him before I hear him. Deciding to ignore him and get the hell out of here, I start moving quickly, hoping he gives up and goes back to his office. I hear him chuckle behind me as if he can read my mind. Right as I reach the exit, his hand presses against the door so I can’t open it.

I huff and turn with my back flush against the door and—Jackson is so close. It’s like my dream, only this time I’m not at my car. The cold glass is doing nothing to help the fire burning within me.

He takes a deep breath, and neither of us speaks as his hand slides down the door until it’s next to my shoulder. Ever so slowly, he lifts his left hand and caresses it down my arm, stopping at my wrist. Lifting and opening my fingers, he places something in my palm then closes my fingers back around it. Still neither of us has spoken a word, but it feels as if we’ve had an entire conversation. Jackson leans forward and I think he’s going to kiss me. I close my eyes, silently praying that he will. Instead he uses his weight and pushes himself back upright. I feel his warmth evaporate and it takes all my strength not to wrap myself around him and get lost in his touch. Jackson smiles, looks at my hand, and turns away without saying a word.

Somehow I manage to keep myself from collapsing and make my way to the elevator. Once inside with the doors shut, I slide to the floor and close my eyes. I inhale deeply, trying to calm myself. Remembering that he placed something in my hand, I unclench my fingers and look down to find a business card. On the back, scribbled in short, precise strokes, is a message.