Follow Me (Corrupted Hearts) (13 page)

I was getting sleepy, what with the adrenaline letdown and the two glasses of whisky. My eyes were heavy, and more than anything I wanted to lean over those four inches and rest my head against Jackson’s shoulder. But I knew better than to do that. After last night’s mortifying rejection, I didn’t need another.

Though he had stuck his hand down my bra this morning . . .

No, he’d been helping me not get burned. That was all. Social cues were hard enough without letting my hopes make something out of nothing.

My head was heavy on my neck so I leaned back, resting against the couch. I sighed, my eyes slipping closed. That was better.

“How’s the new boyfriend?”

The words penetrated the fog in my brain, but I didn’t open my eyes. The lids were too heavy to bother.

“Bad,” I mumbled. “And he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Why not? Did something happen?”

I nodded. “It was awful.”

“Why?”

I pried my eyes open. Everything came into focus really slowly. Rolling my head back, I saw Jackson’s face above mine, looking at me. I blinked once. Twice.

“Told him something I shouldn’t have. We’re done now.”

His brows rose. “What did you tell him?”

I could tell right away by the tone of his voice that he was replaying our conversation in his head about me not talking to anyone about work. I rolled my eyes, which was a mistake because it made me a little dizzy.

“Not work,” I snorted. “Told him I was a virgin. He was grossed out. I left. Done.”

Silence. My eyes drifted closed again. So tired. I needed to get home. It was past my bedtime.

“You’re a virgin?”

The question echoed in my head. I nodded. “I know. Pathetic, right?”

“And he was . . . grossed out?”

I grimaced. “Don’t really want to talk about it, ’kay?”

His hand tightened on my leg, squeezing again. “Yeah. Sure.”

Mmmm. I liked him touching me and I was loath to move. But I needed to get home. Sitting on Jackson’s couch, drinking his whisky and letting him touch my leg, was doing nothing to dissuade my romantic fantasies about him. With a sigh, I opened my eyes and sat forward. The room tilted and I waited a second for it to right itself.

“Where are you going?” Jackson asked, his hand tightening on me.

“It’s late. I need to get home. Bedtime was . . .” I glanced at my watch. “. . . an hour ago.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d missed bedtime.

“Bedtime?”

“Ten thirty.” I slipped off my glasses and rubbed my tired eyes. Today had been long.

“You’ve been drinking. You’re not driving home.”

Oh yeah. He was right. That would be bad. “I’ll get an Uber.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Then you’ll have to come back for your car. You’ll stay here tonight.”

I couldn’t have heard him correctly, but he looked perfectly serious.

“That’s . . . that’d be . . .” I searched for the right word. “Wouldn’t that be weird?” I ended up blurting.

Jackson raised an eyebrow. “That wasn’t a badly phrased come-on, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

I flinched. “No, of course not. I didn’t think—”

“The idea of you sharing my bed has crossed my mind,” he interrupted. “But I don’t usually proposition women when they’ve been drinking.”

I stared, my mouth agape. He hadn’t just said that he’d thought about sleeping with me, had he? I replayed the words inside my head. Yes, he had. I blinked. Should I say something? What could I possibly say?
Yes, please
sprang immediately to mind.

“The house is plenty big and then I’m not liable if you leave and get in an accident.” Jackson stood and took my hand, pulling me easily to my feet. He stood so close, we almost touched, but I could see his face clearly, even without my glasses.

“Um, okay. Thanks,” I said, deciding not to address what he’d said about being in his bed. I was transfixed by the way he was looking at me, his dark eyes fringed in thick lashes that I’d never seen this close. The line of his nose was straight and led to lips that looked very soft.

“Come with me.”

“Okeydokey.”

I trailed after Jackson, his hand still curled around mine. It was easy to pretend we were holding hands rather than him merely leading me to a guest room.

We walked down the hallway to a staircase that arched from one side of the grand foyer to the other, both sides reaching up to the second-story balcony, overlooking the space below. A huge chandelier hung from the ceiling and I craned my neck to look at it.

“That’s beautiful,” I breathed, watching the light from the hundreds of crystals dance across the marble floor.

“Thank you. Lance tells me it’s a bitch to clean.”

His wry humor surprised a laugh out of me. He glanced at me, his lips curved in a sardonic half smile. We’d reached the foot of the stairs and Jackson slid his arm around my back as we started up.

“Don’t want you to fall backward,” he said softly.

If I did fall, it’d be because I was swooning, not because I was drunk. The house was amazing and Jackson was even better. If someone had told me last week that I’d be spending the night at his house, I would have had them checked in to the psycho ward. Getting in a car chase seemed a small price to pay for this unexpected treat.

Just as I was thinking how awful it would be if I actually
did
fall down the stairs in front of Jackson, I tripped. There was a split second of
Oh shit!
then Jackson’s arm was around my stomach, catching me. And it would’ve been oh-so-romantic if it had ended there, but I hadn’t expected to be caught and my feet got all tangled with his, and before I could grab the railing to stop myself, we both went down.

I squeaked, my arms flailing, and my elbow slammed into Jackson’s nose. Horrified, I scrambled in vain to reverse direction, put on the brakes, anything. Luckily, we were near the top and just hit the last couple of steps, but that did little to assuage my ego, especially when I heard the breath whoosh out of Jackson’s lungs when I landed on top of him with all the grace of a dancing hippo.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” I tried to right myself, but at some point his arms had locked around me. Probably trying to make sure I didn’t topple backward. I was afraid to look up at Jackson, flat on his back against the steps. Had I given him a bloody nose as well as knocking the wind out of him?

“Holy shit, China,” he wheezed. “Why didn’t you just knee me in the groin while you were at it?”

I was absolutely mortified. “I’m so sorry,” I repeated plaintively. I tried to scramble up again, but his hold on me tightened.

“Keep it up and you
will
knee me in the groin.”

I froze, belatedly realizing I was straddling his leg and indeed, my knee was dangerously close to family-jewel territory. Considering the number of women who’d probably been to Jackson’s house, I doubted this particular embarrassment had ever before happened to him. No, it took
me
to do that.

“Can you get up?” I asked. “Do you need me to call someone?” Where was his butler guy?

He snorted. “It takes more than a little thing like you to put me out of commission.” Rolling over, our positions were suddenly reversed with my butt on the stair and his knee between my legs. He held himself above me and our eyes locked.

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d say that was a cute little trick,” he said.

My eyes went wide. “I would never—”

“I know.”

“That would be unforgivably dangerous, not to mention reckless.”

His lips twitched. “I know.”

I couldn’t read the look in his eyes, but it shut me up. My gaze dropped to his mouth. His lips looked soft and were Right There. A kiss from Jackson Cooper would be right near the top of my bucket list (not the very top, though—that was reserved for visiting the Doctor Who Experience in Cardiff someday).

Then he was on his feet and hauling me up as well.

“This way,” he said, and this time he didn’t take my hand.

I swallowed my disappointment, suddenly
really
glad I hadn’t given in to that insane urge to kiss him. He probably thought of me as a particularly amusing employee or kid sister . . . who’d actually told him I was a virgin. Why in the world had I done that? Apparently, the real life reaction to that information was akin to a bucket of ice water as opposed to what Harlequin said.

Too distracted and distraught to pay much attention to the room he led me to, I self-consciously tightened my ponytail and looked at the floor, half listening to his commentary.

“. . . and the bathroom is private and through there,” he was saying. “There should be plenty of linens, towels, toiletries, anything you might need. If you do find you need something, I’m just two doors down.”

I nodded, staring at the toes of my tennis shoes. “’kay. Thanks.”

“I’ll have a report in the morning on that car and if they found anything. And the security I sent to your place already texted that everything is quiet there.”

“Okay.” I needed to text Mia and tell her I was staying with Bonnie tonight. I didn’t like lying, but it probably didn’t set a good example for me to be staying the night at a man’s house, even if it was purely platonic.

“Are you okay?” Jackson asked.

“Sure. Just tired.”
And was never, ever going to find a man interested in me.

“Hey.” He stepped closer and lifted my chin with his fingers. Our eyes met and my breath caught. “For what it’s worth, I think your non-boyfriend neighbor is a fucking moron.”

My eyes widened, not just at his words but at the vehemence with which he’d spoken them.

“Really?” My voice was that breathy female thing that without fail made me roll my eyes when I saw it done in a movie. Now I thought maybe I knew why they sounded that way.

He didn’t answer. Instead, his gaze dropped to my mouth, and I had the nearly overwhelming urge to lick my lips. Just when I thought the waiting was going to kill me, Jackson leaned down and pressed his lips to mine.

It was gentle and sweet . . . and made butterflies take flight in my stomach. His hand cupped my jaw, sliding along my skin in a way that sent shivers through me. I’d been right. His lips were softer than satin.

Time stretched longer than it was in actuality. When he lifted his head, I was breathless. I knew I had stars in my eyes—or maybe hearts—but didn’t really care. Jackson Cooper had just kissed me.
Me
. China Mack.

“Really,” he said, his voice roughened in a Dean-from-
Supernatural
kind of way that made me want to rip off his clothes.

Before I could decide to pursue clothes ripping or figure out what to say, he was gone, melting into the darkness down the hallway. I heard his door open, then close.

I closed my door, too, part of me elated at this unexpected turn of events. But the part of me that was too cynical to believe things like this just happened to me—that part wondered at the timing, especially considering how Jackson had not said much about the software that was nagging at my brain, except that I shouldn’t worry about it. In my experience, when someone tells you
not
to worry about something—that’s exactly when to start worrying.

9

I slept like a rock despite the weirdness of my interaction with Jackson. I figured the whisky probably had something to do with it. When I woke up the next morning to the sound of my phone’s alarm, it took me a minute to pry myself from the bed, which was the best mattress I’d ever slept on. And the sheets were to die for. I rummaged around for the tag, memorizing the manufacturer once I found it. I had to get some sheets like this.

After my shower, I emerged from the bathroom to find a tray waiting by the bed. A silver coffeepot and a fancy cup sat on it, along with the usual accompaniments. A covered plate emitted a mouthwatering aroma of bacon and when I lifted the lid, I wasn’t disappointed. It was like being in a ritzy hotel, only without the hefty price tag. Fresh eggs, bacon, and coffee delivered to my bedroom almost made up for having to wear the same clothes two days in a row (minus the underwear because no way was I doing that). The thought made me squirm a little as I chomped a piece of bacon. Jeans weren’t the most comfortable attire when going commando.

I texted Mia, who texted back that she was going to go shopping at the mall today. Oslo had put money in her account and she was going to take a cab. Since the mall was only a few miles away, I said it was okay.

But make sure you text me when you get home
, I wrote. I felt a little guilty that I’d been working so much this week and we hadn’t spent much time together. I’d have to take her to the movies or something this weekend. Luckily, she’d made friends with that other teenage girl who lived a few houses away, though for the life of me I couldn’t remember her name. And she’d make more friends at school, I was sure.

When I went exploring downstairs, I followed the residual smell of bacon and found a stranger in the kitchen, putting away dishes.

“You must be Lance,” I guessed.

“I am. Good morning.” He smiled and seemed friendly. I judged him to be in his early- to mid-twenties and he wore plain black pants with a black T-shirt. With dark hair and almond skin, he reminded me of Tiger Woods, his heritage a mix that was indeterminate but had combined to produce a uniquely attractive man.

“I must have you to thank for breakfast,” I said. “I’m China, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, China. And you’re welcome.”

I glanced around the immaculate gourmet kitchen. I wouldn’t know what to do with half the appliances and gadgets I saw. “Has Jackson come down yet?”

“He went for a run,” Lance said.

Oh. Wow. Okay, now I felt like a total loser. He was exercising while I’d been sleeping in and eating breakfast.

“I’d better get going then,” I said. “Thanks.”

“Have a good day,” he called after me as I left the kitchen.

Okay, now to find my keys. I pushed my glasses up my nose as I looked around. The house was a huge maze. Where was the library we’d been in last night? I was sure I’d left my keys in there.

I ventured down the hallway, cautiously peering into rooms as I passed. A parlor or formal living room, a room with a piano . . . no library.

A door at the end of the hallway looked promising, but when I opened it, I realized I’d stumbled onto Jackson’s home office. I knew immediately that I should leave but . . . it was Jackson Cooper’s home office. Maybe I could take just a quick peek . . .

The library had been amazing and his office wasn’t far behind. Beautiful windows stretched high up the walls to form a massive bay window. The floors were hardwood like most of the rest of the house. And in the middle of the room was something so out of place, it looked space-age.

A black chair, complete with a headrest and leg rests, sat in the center of a silver metal circular platform. A metal arm curved over the top of the chair, suspending two enormous flat screen monitors at about eye level.

I’d seen this before. It was supposed to be the most advanced, ergonomic workspace there was . . . and it could be yours for a mere twenty-five thousand dollars.

“Wow . . .” I breathed, stepping closer. The door swung closed behind me, a soft snick as it shut. I barely noticed. I had to try it. I couldn’t
not
try it. Just sit in it for a second . . .

The seat was configured for Jackson, who was quite a bit taller than me, but I managed. I eased the desk portion into place and sat back. It really was perfect, keeping my neck and arms aligned without any strain.

“This is amazing.”

At the sound of my voice, the screens flickered to life. I froze like a deer in headlights. Oh crap. What if Jackson had a camera in here or something? He could fire me for doing this. Yeah, I’d better get my ass out of this chair and go home.

The screens caught my eye as I moved the keyboard tray out of the way. Code filled the window open on the right while several other windows on the left screen showed runtime views and a DOS window scrolling text.

Hmmm . . .

Even as I knew I shouldn’t read the code, I glanced through the lines, automatically running it through my head. I paused on a line that was calling a remote procedure, recognizing it as part of the Wyndemere project.

Frowning, I looked for the app name at the top of the window. Jackson had warned me big-time to leave confidential files at work, and yet here he was at home, working on this application, which was called . . . Vigilance. I had no clue what that was. It wasn’t in any of the project files.

That bad feeling I’d had last night was back full force, only now it was a sick curdling in my stomach. Jackson had told me not to worry all right. Was this why? Was
he
the one writing the missing piece? And what was I going to do if he was? And why hadn’t he told me?

Voices echoed down the hall, one of them I recognized immediately as Jackson’s. Panic struck.

Oh shit.

I didn’t want to imagine what would happen if he caught me and I suddenly realized that no one knew where I was, not even Mia. She thought I was at Bonnie’s. If something happened to me . . .

Scrambling out of the chair, I ran to the door, then skidded to a halt. The voices were right outside the door.

“. . . where she went? Her car’s still here,” Jackson was saying.

“I haven’t seen her, but I’ll check upstairs. Maybe she forgot something in her room.”

“Yes, do that.”

Looking around frantically for a place to hide, I saw a tiny space behind the leather couch by the bay windows. I dove behind it just as the knob began to turn.

It was a really good thing I was a small person because it was a tight squeeze.

Jackson came in and I could see his shoes as he stopped. My breathing seemed loud so I covered my mouth with my hand, waiting. If he decided to work from home for a while, it was going to be a
really
long day.

He continued over to his chair and paused again. I knew the monitors were still on, there was nothing I could do about that. I waited, heart in my throat as I watched.

After a moment, I saw him move back toward the door. I let out a careful breath. He’d probably just logged off. It was surprising anyway that he’d been logged on when I’d come in, but then again, I doubted he thought someone would be in his personal office besides himself.

The door opened and he left. He’d just been running, so surely he went upstairs to shower. I hoped. I waited longer, counting to thirty before coming out from behind the couch. Cautiously opening the door, I peered out, but the hallway was deserted.

Obviously, the library was in the opposite direction and that’s where I headed, moving double time. I ran into no one and found my keys on one of the tables in the massive library. I was nearly to the front door when I heard, “There you are.”

I swallowed down a curse. I’d nearly been out the door into freedom. Turning, I pasted on my best fake smile and pushed my glasses up my nose. I held my keys so tightly, I could feel the metal biting into my palm.

“Good morning,” I said to Jackson. “Lance said you were out running.” Now that I could see him above the ankles, I could appreciate all that his business attire hid. And boy, was it ever worth taking a moment.

He wore loose navy-blue shorts and a white tank. The muscles in his arms looked cut from marble, they were so perfect. His skin even glistened slightly with sweat.

It was enough to almost make me forget that I could be in danger. Almost.

“Just got back. We couldn’t find you.”

The question was there, unasked, and he waited for the answer. I jingled my keys.

“Had to go find these,” I said. He looked unconvinced, so I kept going. “And I had all that strong coffee. Caffeine is a diarrheic, you know.”

He glanced away, his lips thinning, and his ears turned pink. Had I just embarrassed him?

“I mean, it can really tear up your stomach if you’re not careful,” I said. “You might want to apologize to Lance for me. I tried to find some matches—”

“That’s fine, that’s fine,” he interrupted me, holding up a hand. His ears were bright red now, and I would’ve laughed if I didn’t already have one foot out the door.

“See you later!” I called out, almost but not quite running for my car. I didn’t breathe easily until Jackson’s house was in my rearview mirror.

Since it was Saturday, Wyndemere was practically deserted and I got a lot of work done. Some members of the team were working the weekend, too, so I had three meetings, following up with coding problems I’d found and working through resolution ideas. By the time I left, it was dark and my stomach was cramping. I was really looking forward to my usual Saturday splurge of Thai food.

My phone buzzed as I was getting in the car. It was Mia.

“Hey, Aunt Chi. Jen asked me to go to the movies and spend the night tonight. Can I?”

A little of my guilt lifted. Jen was the teenage daughter of one of my neighbors and she’d invited Mia to a sleepover. That was a good thing, even if it did leave me a little jealous of how quickly she could make a friend.

“What movie?”

“
Age of Ultron
.”

“You haven’t seen it yet?”

“I’ve seen it six times, but Jen hasn’t seen it.”

Of course she’d seen it six times. I’d only seen it four times. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Then I remembered something. “I have a pedicure appointment tomorrow afternoon. Want to come along and get one, too?” That was a girly thing to do, which was totally unlike me, but Bonnie had made me go a year ago and I’d gotten addicted. Mia should love it.

“Yeah, absolutely!”

I smiled. Score one for Aunt Chi. “Okay then. Have fun. Do you need money?”

“Nope. I’m good. Thanks.”

My regular order of chicken satay and quinoa salad was waiting for me when I arrived at Thai Palace. A little hole-in-the-wall place, it had the best Thai food I’d ever tried. Once I’d found it, I refused to eat Thai from anywhere else.

It felt good to be home and by myself for a change. This week had exhausted me. The date that had gone well with Clark, then the evening that hadn’t gone so well. My chest ached and I could feel embarrassment creeping in when I thought about it, so I tried not to.

Dealing with a whole team of new people and new personalities for the job at Wyndemere was difficult, too. While John was still being a pain in the ass, the others had behaved professionally, and lunch with Lana had been nice. John hadn’t come in today, which was fine by me. I needed the weekend to think the situation through, then I could deal with him on Monday.

The security men Jackson had told me about sat in a car across the street. I’d noticed them immediately upon entering the subdivision. I was suddenly glad Mia was somewhere else tonight, I thought as I closed all the curtains and blinds. Munching on my salad, I peered through a crack in the curtains, watching the car.

It felt weird to be under surveillance, even if it was just for security.

I flipped on the television, half watching
Doctor Who
as I ran the code I’d read this morning at Jackson’s through my head again. I didn’t have a photographic or eidetic memory per se . . . but I did have a really good memory for things I’d read.