Jackson clears his throat again, breaking into my thoughts. “You’re even more beautiful than I remember.” He looks down at our hands and the shift in his attitude is unmistakable, as if he’s considering the current relationship we now share.
I remove my hand from his and pull myself together. He’s my client. I’m a professional.
“Thank you, Mr. Cole. CJJ is proud that you chose our vision to take your company forward.” I smile and mentally high-five myself for saying that without stuttering.
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.”