Beloved (15 page)

Apparently she forgot all the nights I cried myself to sleep begging for him to come home. The days I sat at the top of the steps with a bag, hoping he was going to come get me for the weekend. The thousands of times I would ask if Daddy was going to call or come back. Every birthday when I would cry because I would wish for him and he’d never show. Tears fall relentlessly as anguish slices through my heart.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Mom.” I take deep breath. “I wasn’t enough. I have to go.” I press end, disconnecting the call, and throw the phone on the bed. I won’t listen to her tell me he loved me. If I stayed on the phone, we would’ve fought more and I can’t handle any more of it today.

The anger evaporates and all I’m left with is nothingness. Numb. All I feel is complete numbness. I’m not angry anymore, or sad. I couldn’t give a shit less about anything regarding my mother or father. I open the balcony door and sit out there, enjoying the solitude. There’s something about the ocean that’s soothing. I hear my phone ring a few times, but there’s no way I’m getting up. I’m enjoying this small sliver of peace. The smell of the salty air, the sounds of birds and the waves crashing, and the caress of the gentle breeze overwhelm my senses. Focusing on them, I melt into the lounge chair and just breathe. Time passes and I’m content and restful.

“Well, this explains why you aren’t answering my calls or the door.” I leap out of my seat at the sound of an angry voice.

Jackson is standing on the balcony to my right, glaring at me. Trying to slow my rapid pulse, I place my hand over my heart. Short of breath from the rush of fear, I gasp and try to speak. “You scared the shit out of me.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. “I was worried. I had no idea if you left or were lost.” He opens his eyes, straining to maintain his temper. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but I didn’t know what to think.”

His concern warms my heart. I smile and shrug. “What if I was in the bathroom?”

“For an hour?” he questions in that raspy voice of his.

“An hour?” I ask, confused. I thought it was maybe twenty minutes.

“Yes. An hour of calling and then banging on your door. I came out to my balcony to see if maybe I could see you on the beach because I was starting to panic.” He shakes his head and runs his hands through his dark brown hair.

“I came out for some fresh air. I didn’t even hear the door. I’m sorry you were so worried.” I walk over to the edge of my balcony to get closer to him. “You should know, though, I’m not as fragile as you seem to think.” I smile, trying to reassure him.

Closing his eyes, he turns his head toward the ocean and mumbles to himself. Something about women being the death of him.

Using my diversionary tactics, I clear my throat to grab his attention. “Ready to go?”

He seems to collect himself and one side of his mouth quirks up. “Yeah, I’ll meet you right outside your door.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

I head back in the room. Grabbing my phone, I look at the call list: eleven missed calls. Two are from my mother and the rest are from Jackson. No wonder he was pissed and worried. I check myself in the mirror and groan at my appearance. I look like a bus hit me. Knowing that he’s waiting and already irritated, I decide not to push my luck. I pinch my cheeks for some color and flip my hair a few times, trying to bring some life back to it.

As I open the door, I can’t stop the smile that forms at the sight of Jackson. He’s pacing with his hands clasped behind his head. When he hears my door shut, he looks over and walks toward me. Standing face-to-face, I tilt my head to look up and try to read his mood through his eyes. They give nothing away as he stares down at me. He shakes his head, letting out a short groan as he does so. I lift my eyebrow at the noise that escapes him and Jackson returns the gesture. Then we both start laughing at each other.

The moment of humor seems to have quelled our awkwardness. He puts his arm out in a gentlemanly way and I place my hand through it. He looks down, smiling as we walk and get on the elevator. “What am I going to do with you?”

“What the hell does that mean?” I ask, narrowing my eyes as I try to decipher what exactly his question is implying.

“Just what I asked.”

“Yes, but what kind of a question is that?” I drop my arm from his.

“Clearly there is something happening here.” He steps closer and I take a step back.

“Nothing is happening.” I straighten and take another step back, trying to put distance between us.

His jaw tics at my statement and he takes another step toward me. He’s hot and then cold—I can’t keep up. He kisses me—a soul-searing kiss—and then acts as though it was a mistake. Needing something to hold onto, I grip the hem of my dress. Jackson’s eyes snap down as I tug on the fabric and he grins.

“Catherine—” Before he can speak, the elevator door opens allowing me to get the hell out of here.

I don’t reply or acknowledge him as I practically run out of the elevator. This man manages to suck the air out of any space we share. He makes it difficult for me to focus on anything other than him. The intensity between us is crippling. I continue walking through the lobby and outside, heading over to a bench to sit.
Think, Catherine!
I need to be able to do my damn job.

He sits beside me, not saying a word. I need to tell him that this has to stop. He must have sensed my apprehension at some point, yet he continues to play whatever game this is. It’s my life he’s playing with. My job pays me way too much money to screw this up. I also refuse to go through another agonizing breakup—as if we’re even close to that. Ha! It’s too much. I have to maintain control. Yeah, like there’s a shot in hell that’s going to happen with a man like Jackson. Regardless, I’m going to
attempt
to keep it together.

I glance at him and my heart squeezes.

He returns my gaze as the car pulls up. “Let’s get to work,” he says as he stands and walks over to the car. This time he gets in the front seat.

Good. We need physical distance. We need to resume the roles of client and consultant. No matter how charming he is, no matter how handsome, he’s ultimately paying me to help his company. I need to honor that agreement.

We arrive at the production facility fifteen minutes later. I used our travel time to strengthen my resolve and plan how to get back to being the strong businesswoman I am rather than the girl who can’t control herself over some guy. Hell, I never acted like this with Neil. Half the fun with him was kicking his ass in the business world, not fawning and tripping over myself.

I open the door and smile at Jackson, wearing my business mask. This time he keeps his hands in his pockets.

“Welcome to Raven Cosmetics,” he says as I walk past him into the building.

“Thank you. I know our main objective is the successful release of the new line you have coming out. Will we get to see that today?”

“Yes. The older products are being handled for now. The new line is really what we want you to focus on.” It seems Jackson has also found his professional mask. Thank God! When he’s charming and flirtatious it makes it damn near impossible to keep my mind on task.

“Perfect. Can I ask why you brought in an outside company?” The more information I have, the better.

He looks away and stops in front of a door. “Do I look like I wear makeup?” he asks, dripping with sarcasm. My breath hitches at his sudden mood shift. Jackson has never been rude or nasty. It shocks me. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s been a real shitty day.” He inhales and begins to speak in an even tone. “I never had control over anything that happened with the cosmetic company. I honestly couldn’t tell you the first thing about what the hell went on here. So when—” He stops abruptly and looks up before continuing, “—the former CEO departed, I knew I needed help. That’s where you came in.” He turns and opens the door, holding it so I can pass through.

“I understand.” I nod and smile tightly as I walk past him. I stop and turn back, adding, “I’m glad you chose CJJ.”

“I chose you. Not CJJ.” He reaches for my hand and places it in the crook of his arm, holding it there. I stare at his beautiful eyes, biting my lower lip. “Now let me show you all the girly shit we make here.” He turns and pulls me through the hall.

Our tour lasts about two hours and I’m exhausted by the end. I’ve met all the people on the production team as well as a few people I’m sure I’ll speak to when I start to get more involved with each product. I have a million ideas floating around about things I want to focus on. I also have a huge bag of products to sample. Jackson was friendly, funny, and playful with his employees. The rapport he had with them was amazing. Just as impressive was how obvious it was that they love him. He knew almost every person’s name, which is rare in a lot of big companies nowadays. It’s clear that he views them as people and not just numbers. For someone who’s had little to do with the company, he’s either learned fast or has been more involved than he let on.

After the tour, both of us seem to relax into our appropriate roles. Throughout the car ride, we talk a lot about what he wants regarding the company’s growth and how he’ll be hands-on but ultimately knows nothing about this market or how to handle the press. The amount of free reign I have on this account has me feeling confident, even a little giddy.

Once we get off the elevator at our hotel, Jackson’s phone rings. He glances at the screen and grimaces. He looks at me, a frown marring his features as he takes the call. “Hi, Mark. Everything okay?” He makes a low grumbling noise in the back of his throat at whatever Mark is relaying on the phone. “Well, fix it!” he yells, clearly frustrated at the situation. “No, I don’t … fine. I’ll be in the office in twenty minutes. You better have Tom, Aaron, and Dean on standby. I’m not fucking around this time.” He disconnects the call and puts his phone in his pocket.

Looking over at me, he swallows and his shoulders drop. “I’m sorry, I have to go deal with this crap. I know we planned to go over some things at dinner, but …”

Wanting to relieve whatever turmoil he’s struggling with, and also understanding all too well the pressures of his position, I smile and place my hand on his arm. “No problem. I’m exhausted anyway. Today has been … overwhelming.”

His eyes look sad. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He gives me a small smile.

“No need, Jackson. Just go. What time is our meeting tomorrow?”

His eyes twinkle with mischief and his voice turns playful. “No meetings. I have other plans for us. Be ready by one o’clock.”

My eyes widen and I start to twist my hands as my heart races. Do I continue to fight this? There’s only one way this is going to end—badly—but I want to spend the day with him. I want to see if this is all my crazy imagination. I’m too tired to think anymore. I take a shaky breath and exhale. “Okay.” My brilliant plan to keep things strictly business just went out the door. I know I should spend tomorrow working or alone, but I can’t resist him.

“Good night, Catherine.” And with that, he turns and walks away.

Too late to change my mind now.

I slept well, considering the absolute shit day I had yesterday. Between my dead father, the earth-moving kiss with Jackson, Jackson regretting said earth-moving kiss, and the fight with my mother, I’m surprised I can even function. The worst part is I’m more upset about Jackson than any of the other things. One minute he’s seducing me with his magnetic eyes, sexy grin, and that damn dimple, and the next he’s pushing me away and tormenting me.

I roll over and my eyes land on the clock sitting on the nightstand. It takes a second for them to focus, but when they do … Holy shit I slept late—it’s almost noon. I’ve always been an up-at-seven-no-matter-what girl, but not today apparently. Groaning, I get out of the extremely comfortable bed and start getting ready for whatever Jackson has planned for me. Looking over the outfits I threw in my bag during my pissed-off packing, I realize I don’t have an outfit for
“I have plans.”
I have no clue what to wear or where we’re going. Instead of agonizing over it, I opt for jeans and a cute pink top. Luckily I brought my favorite pair, which hug my butt perfectly and accentuate my curves. The top that Ashton threw in is not a business top, but it’s perfect for our
“plans.”
The one shoulder gives a little sexy, but the loose fit keeps it looking casual. I have my hair in a loose ponytail with the ends curled. I throw on my white sneakers and hope for the best.

I’ve just sat in the chair and broke out my Kindle when I hear a knock on the door. Rushing over, I take two deep breaths, press the handle down, and open it. Jackson’s smiling as he leans against the wall with his legs and arms crossed. My brain ceases to form rational thoughts. The sight before me takes my breath away—he’s mouthwatering. I look down at the floor, trying to hide my blush and get my mind functioning again. As he uncrosses his leg and stands straight, I can’t help but think that this man is going to be the death of me. My eyes slowly scan his body, absorbing as much detail as possible before I have to meet his eyes again. First thing I see are his dark blue track shorts, and above them a tight black shirt shows the ripples of his abs. My greedy perusal continues until I land on his face. That’s when my knees buckle and I grip the doorjamb for support. His eyes darken. The intensity of his stare causes my stomach to clench and heat to pool in my center.