“So humble.” I roll my eyes. I run my hands down his chest and give him a playful smile.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing, Mr. I’m a Navy SEAL who’s charming, endearing, oh, and God’s gift to women.” I smile and remember his bullshit reason to get me to dinner with him. I sit up and pull the sheet around me. “Hey! You made me a bet, Muffin. I want to know my time from that insane course yesterday.”
He pulls the sheet down, exposing my breasts, and rips it farther away when I try to grab it. “Muffin, huh?” He leans up and I try to hold my ground and not back away. “Are you sure you want to call me that?” His one brow raises and his eyes darken. Oh shit. I’m in trouble now.
Mustering my courage, I respond, “I’m pretty sure I already did. Now I want my time!”
Jackson crawls toward me and I scamper backward. I’m smiling, but I know I’m going to pay for this. “Where are you going? You started this game, baby.” I try to scoot back but I’m going to be off the bed in about two seconds.
“You owe me my time and a spa day.”
He smiles and lunges for me. I laugh as he starts to tickle me relentlessly. “Jackson … stop,” I try to say through fits of giggles. “Oh my God … Stop!” He doesn’t let up.
“Will you call me Muffin again?” he asks while I try to catch my breath.
“Yes!”
The mischief is back in his eyes as he begins tickling me again. I squirm and writhe on the bed. He stills suddenly and I realize he’s extremely turned on. I’m gasping for air as he brings his mouth down, stopping right before his perfect lips connect with mine. His eyes crinkle in the corners and I try to kiss him, but he backs away. So not fair! “Wanna rethink your answer?”
Two can play at this game. I raise my arms over my head and stretch. His eyes shift to my breasts and I smile. Good, it’s working. “What if I called you a different muffin?” He doesn’t respond, so I tilt his chin so he’s looking in my eyes. “Jackson?”
“Huh?” The confusion is evident as his gaze shifts back to my exposed body before returning to my face.
I raise my eyebrows at his question.
Seeming to recover, he smirks and leans toward me again. “What kind of muffin are you referring to?”
“Oh, I don’t know …” I sigh dramatically. “You know, there are a lot of muffins. Corn, blueberry, chocolate chip, stud muffin—”
Jackson crushes his mouth against mine, effectively ending the conversation.
Chapter Seventeen
After one of the best mornings I’ve had in a long time, I kicked Jackson out so I could get ready. We’re heading back to New Jersey late in the evening and I needed to get some work done. I managed to get some emails sorted and check my voicemails. All in all, I’ve been pretty damn productive. I don’t think I’ve stopped smiling, and my cheeks are starting to hurt.
I hear a ding on my phone.
Jackson: Hey, I need to go to the office. We need to leave in 30 min.
Me: Okay. No problem.
There must me something serious going on. He’s been on the phone several times, has gone in to the office, and seems tense when it comes to anything regarding his security firm. I start to pack my bags and close my laptop. Luckily, there isn’t too much stuff to pick up. I close my eyes, remembering how Jackson was so reluctant to leave this morning, how he melted another part of my carefully constructed wall. It’s so easy to be comfortable around him.
Twenty minutes later, there’s a knock at the door. Grabbing my bags and giving the room a once over, my trepidation soars. What do I say or do? I’m not good at this crap, which is why I’ve always been in a relationship. I don’t know what this is, so I don’t know how to act. Another bang on the door. I can’t hide since he’s my ride home. I channel some inner strength and head to the door.
“Hey, gorgeous.” He smiles and leans in, pressing his lips to mine.
Maybe this won’t be so awkward.
“Hey.” I look him over and grin. Now that I know what’s underneath those clothes, it’s virtually impossible not to stare. His eyes narrow and his dimple reappears.
“Are you mentally undressing me?”
Cocky ass.
“No!” Damn him and his ability to read me. “What time is our flight?”
He smiles and grabs my bag—always the gentleman. “We leave around six, but I may have to push it back depending on what I find out when I get to the office.”
Letting my curiosity get the best of me, words tumble out of my mouth as we head to the elevator. “What’s going on? Can I help?” He looks over with his head cocked to the side. “I’m not trying to pry.” And here I go with my overstepping. I swear one day I’ll keep my big mouth shut.
“You’re not prying.” Jackson’s fingers interlace with mine and my heart skips a beat. Just the small physical touch he gives me is reassuring. “I told you we have contracts, but our contracts are very different. Basically, my company trains men and women to go to a war zone. They get paid a lot of money, but it’s hazardous. We get funded by the government and we send a team to do various missions or security details.”
“Wow, sounds dangerous.”
“It can be, but we make sure our people have the best equipment, training, and anything else they could need while they’re out there. It’s why most of my team are former SEALs or prior military.”
It’s insane to think people volunteer to go to Iraq and Afghanistan when they aren’t in the military. Ice shoots through my veins, freezing me in place. What if Jackson has to go? I’m sure he’s been before and it’s obvious he’s trained, but still. Would he spend long periods of time there?
Jackson stops and cups my face. “What is it?”
Unable to articulate my sudden anxiety, I shake my head and smile. “Nothing. Sorry. I’m trying to understand why anyone would do that voluntarily.” I’m not going to bring up that it’s him I’m worried about. For all I know this relationship—or whatever it is—could be done next week. I break his hold and head toward the elevator. I need to shake this dread from the pit of my stomach. Otherwise, this thing we have might be over before it actually begins.
“Well, for a lot of us it’s that we miss serving. But it’s different for everyone.”
I guess that makes sense. I’m hoping he doesn’t have that same desire. I’m not sure I’d be strong enough to handle it. However, I’d rather not go there right now.
The ride to the office is quiet. About thirty minutes later, we arrive at Cole Security. I’m hoping to see a little more of what Jackson’s world is like. We walk in and head straight to his office. A few people raise their hands but they’re either immersed in paperwork or on the phone. I head over to the wall of photos and take a closer look. Mark is in a lot of them along with three other men. They look like they’re really close.
“Jackson?” He looks up. “Who are these guys?” I ask, pointing to the picture of the five of them all smiling in their uniforms.
He walks over, smiling, and takes the picture down. “This is Mark.” He points and then hangs the photo back on the wall. “The other guys were in my unit. Aaron.” He points to the one guy in the middle. “He works for me here. But Brian and Fernando died on a mission.” He runs his fingers through his hair with his eyes downcast. I want to console him but someone walks in before I have the chance.
“Hey, you’re here. Good.” A stocky guy with a goatee comes in the door. I recognize him as Aaron from the picture. He heads over to Jackson’s desk as he searches through the papers in his hand.
“Aaron, this is Catherine.”