Beloved (13 page)

“Catherine…”

No! I don’t want to wake up. Damn Ashton and her nudging.

“Catherine.” I hear a throaty chuckle. “You’re adorable when you sleep.”

What?

“Come on. Time to get up. We’re in Virginia.”

Virginia?

I groan and open my eyes to see Jackson smiling and leaning over me with both hands on the arm rests. Damn, I’d love waking up to that face every day. I rub my eyes, realizing I slept the entire flight. Between the lack of sleep last night and the events of this morning, it’s no wonder I passed out. I try to move but he has me caged between his muscular arms, a huge grin on his face. I clear my throat and look at his hand, hoping my silent cue will register. However, he only seems more amused.

“Could you let me up please?”

He leans back but not enough to give me the space I need. I glare at him until he takes a step back, crosses his arms over his chest, and smiles widely at me.

Now standing, I become extremely self-conscious as he stares at me. “What? Do I have something on my face?” I wipe my face, smooth my hair, and inspect my clothes.

He inches forward, dropping his arms to his sides. His eyes tease me as they travel the length of my body. “Did you know you talk in your sleep?” His voice is full of mischief.

No. Oh no! I’m aware of this, but I’ve never really thought too much about it. Though, Ashton does make fun of me all the time for the things that come out of my mouth at night. Pink paints my cheeks as I cover my face with my hands. I open my fingers a tiny bit so I can see through them. “Please tell me I didn’t say anything embarrassing,” I say hesitantly.

Jackson tugs at my hands, pulling them away from my face. His calloused thumbs are rubbing back and forth against my wrists. Taking a deep breath, he gives a small smile. “You said ‘Daddy’ a few times.”

“Oh.” I give a deflated huff. “I guess that makes sense … with everything today.” I look down to where he’s still holding my arms. I shift my weight and stare at the floor.

Sensing my discomfort, he drops my wrists. “I’m sorry again,” he says. And again, I know he is. I can hear the honesty in his voice. It’s touching but disconcerting at the same time. I can’t afford to form an emotional connection with this man. The physical one is bad enough.

“I know.” I smile. “I’m excited to get to work and see the plant,” I say in a polite tone, switching topics. I don’t want to discuss my father or anything personal, and I’m not going to think about all the issues waiting for me back in New Jersey. There’s business to handle while I’m on this trip, and that is going to be my priority. In the last twenty years, my father never once made me a priority—I’m not about to make him one now.

“We’ll head straight there. Then we’ll have dinner, since I know you’re excited for that too.”

“Too?” I straighten my back and snap my eyes to his.

“You might have said something about that.” He laughs. “And a few other things,” he adds as an afterthought. Jackson turns and cleans up his papers.

Is he serious? I bite my lip and hesitate before asking my next question. “What are you talking about? Did I say anything else?”

He tilts his head to the side, grinning, and then shrugs. What the hell does the shrug mean? I have to know. He grabs his bag and moves past me. I’m stunned, silently praying all I did was mumble.

As he walks by, I grab his arm to stop him. I try for nonchalance, hoping that maybe his good-humored side will play along. My stomach is doing somersaults as I think of all the possible things I could’ve said in my sleep. In the short time we’ve known each other I’ve dreamed of him so often—if my words were anything close to sounding like the two very erotic dreams I’ve already had, I may die.

His eyes are playful when he looks at me. “Something you want to know?” he asks, raising one eyebrow.

“Me? No.” I smile and look contrite.

“Are you sure? You look rather curious.” He smirks and pushes my hair off my face.

I laugh, hoping to get him to tell me what I said. “Jackson, I thought you were into saving girls from disastrous situations. You know, a soldier and all—”

He cuts me off. “No, I was a SEAL, not a soldier. Big difference,” he says as he puffs his chest out.

“Okay … SEAL, then. Didn’t know the term meant anything.” I tilt my head, smiling and batting my eyelashes. “Anyway, don’t you want to tell me whatever it is you think you know?”

He smiles at my blatant attempt at persuasion. Dropping his the bag on the seat, he says, “Catherine, you don’t really think I’m going to give up that easy, do you?” He grins and takes a step closer. I notice his Adam’s apple bobbing as he debates his next words. “I’m like a vault, and it’s going to take a whole lot more than those gorgeous eyes batting at me to crack this one,” he says huskily.

I take a step back and smile. “So there
is
something to spill, then?”

He laughs loudly and steps back. “Come on. We’ve got places to go.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a frustrating man?”

He taps his finger on his chin as if deep in thought. “Nope, most people find me endearing and charming.”

I snort. “Are these people on your payroll by any chance?”

“Maybe, but then again you’re on my payroll and seem to disagree with the consensus.” He smiles and heads toward the cabin door.

“Good thing I don’t work for you. You’re just a client, so I don’t have to agree.”

He stops and turns toward me suggestively. “Good thing I have three days to change your mind about that, then.” He winks, leaving me speechless as we exit the plane.

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.