Love Me: The Complete Series (45 page)

“Do what?”

Two seconds ticked off in silence. “Commit.”

Jackson felt his heart screech to a stop. Shit.

“Sssssssop.”

Jackson dropped his eyes. “Oh, sorry, Dad.” Jackson halted his efforts since he’d twisted his father’s foot in circles like a helicopter blade. Was the therapist watching? He looked over his shoulder and measured the deep frown. His dad’s therapist was a big burly guy with ripped muscles that belonged in a gym. You had to admire the guy for choosing to be a physical therapist for stroke victims instead of spending his days teaching fitness to a bunch of middle-aged housewives. Right now, the guy looked like he was one step away from casting Jackson out of the room. Jackson shrugged sheepishly and dropped his father’s foot.

He patted his dad’s arm. “Give me just a minute, okay? Carter wants some advice.”

“Ffffffom y-y-you?”

Jackson shot an eyebrow up. “What are you trying to say? I’m not capable of giving advice? Come on, Dad, have a little faith.”

Jackson focused on the phone call. “So, you’re trying to tell me that after all these years of distrusting the world, you decided out of the blue that now you’ll put all that in the past? All because of Amanda?”

Carter coughed, and the sound smacked Jackson’s ear as if he’d been slapped. He pulled the phone from his ear for a second, then returned. “I’m saying I want to take it to the next level.”

Jackson didn’t buy it. Not because it was Amanda and whether Carter liked it or not, she was
his.
Nope, his friend had enough baggage to fill a freighter. “Exactly what level would that be? What the hell does that mean, anyway? Take it to the next level? Is that an ‘I want to move in with her’ statement? Or maybe a ‘let’s get married’ thing? Surely you haven’t fallen that far out of the stupid tree, Carter? Slow down there, Romeo—when I said you need to take a chance on a woman now and try trusting a little, I didn’t mean buy the whole ranch house. I just meant spend more time together and see if it fits.”

His head was spinning. Carter was talking about
Amanda. His Amanda.
Whatever level he planned to take, there was no way in hell Jackson could just stand by and—

Carter sighed. “I’m not talking about any of that. Hell, we’ve only been dating for three months and I’ve been gone half the time. I just wanted to do something nice. Something that shows I like her and want to be with her. Something that shows I want to share more time together.”

Oh, okay. Well, what should he say? What’s a good response?
Hey, don’t bother because I just spent the entire night with her and you can’t have her
? Or perhaps,
sure, just make it something we can all three do together because you’ll have to share with me
? Uh, nope.
That
wasn’t going to happen. As much as he liked Carter, there wouldn’t be any sharing. Maybe he should just admit he’d had crazy aerobic-style sex with Amanda, and Carter needed to move on.

And lose his best friend for eternity.

“Okay, I have an idea or two, then.”

He spouted off a few ideas and hung up the phone. Would Amanda fall for that? Would she still see Carter after all they’d been through—or done, rather? A lead stone sunk into his gut and he knew it wasn’t going to dislodge any time soon. Not until Amanda made a choice.

Jackson returned to his dad and met his father’s eyes with a pasted-on smile. “Okay, let’s get back to work.”

Robert waved a hand in disgust. “Ickesss are supid.”

“What?”

“Ickesss are supid.” More spit flew from his dad’s mouth and Jackson found it rather humorous. Trying to understand Robert was not just a lesson in deciphering his improvised language, it also required a certain amount of duck and dodge tactics in order to stay dry. What the heck was he saying? Jackson sounded it out in his head.

Oh. “No, they’re not stupid. Amanda loves the Astros. Season tickets are a great idea.”

His dad rolled his eyes—or at least made the attempt. His right side was slow to cooperate. “For you. Bbbbad idee for Carrrer.”

Still Jackson smiled innocently. No, season tickets to the Astros were a perfect idea. Carter could give them to Amanda and they could go to the games. It was something to do but it wasn’t too
personal.
It was the kind of thing you’d do with a friend. He should feel guilty for recommending something so unromantic. He wasn’t.

The only thing he felt at the moment was—satisfaction. He picked his father’s arm up and started to work.

Amanda replayed the first voicemail from Jackson again before moving on to the second and third. Had she stopped at the first, her temper would have hit an all-time ceiling.

First message: Had she found anything in the contract of concern? She frowned as his voice sounded light and soft. Was the contract all that mattered? His precious contract, his precious company? After the second listen, she started to hit delete on all three, then decided to continue. After all, his voice was rather like a nice cool glass of tea on a hot day. It soothed even while dropping a bomb. What a talent.

Second message: Would she have time for him to stop by and pick up the document? Hmm, that depended on whether the entire conversation would revolve around the contract and not touch on what had just happened. Touch, bad choice of words—a brief vision of his hands flitting across her stomach in the shower made her temperature boil. If business was his only focus, he could take his
business
elsewhere. She growled. Maybe his voice wasn’t so soothing after all, more like fingernails on slate.

Third message:
Oh, I’m sorry—I should have started out with this … last night was fantastic and I can’t stop thinking about you. Can I stop by on my way home? I am craving to see you again. We can talk about the contract if you want—or not talk at all. Your choice.

Okay, that was more like it. Tiny violets and rosebuds blossomed in her chest, wrapping their little green leaves around her heart in a tight squeeze.

She picked up the phone and dialed Jackson’s number. She glanced at her watch and started to hang up. It was noon. He might be at lunch. When Jackson’s voice echoed through the receiver, she smiled. “How can we have a one-night stand if you keep calling?”

She heard a sigh on the other end and could feel him smile. “Mandy, that wasn’t a one-night stand, it was a one-night start.”

“So, I take it you like my little shower? I almost didn’t buy the place because you can barely turn around in it. The entire bathroom is dinky.”

He groaned. “You had to go there, didn’t you? I was doing great, concentrating on work like a good boy, and you went straight to putting that vision in my head. Yes, I love your tiny little shower … barely enough room to do anything clean at all. Thank God we didn’t.”

She giggled as heat rose to her cheeks. A quick glance around ensured none of her coworkers was approaching. She covered the mouthpiece and whispered, “You’re trouble, Jax.”

Did he laugh? His voice lowered to a sexy rumble. “You have no idea. So, can I stop by?”

• • •

A couple of seconds ticked away as Jackson waited for Amanda to agree. He’d buy flowers at the little shop by the parking garage opposite the police station. It was on his way. Roses? No, didn’t she once mention her favorite color was purple? Maybe something in deep and passionate—

“No, um, I’m sorry. You can’t.”

Wait. No? Jackson blinked and pulled the phone from his ear to stare at the receiver as if it would change the answer. Reeling it back in along with his bruised ego, he spoke. “Oh, uh, okay. Well, maybe another time then. Tomorrow?”

There was a tapping noise coming through the receiver as if she was clicking a pen or tapping her foot. “Jackson, you can’t stop by because I won’t be there. I’m meeting Carter this afternoon for coffee. He wanted to tell me something … or give me something … I couldn’t really understand him. I’ll be home later tonight, though. You can come by then if you’d like.”

After her conversation with Carter? That would likely be the conversation where he gave her the Astros tickets. Would she take them? Wait, did he buy something else more personal? The thought of her attending games on a regular basis with Carter didn’t sit well. The thought of her doing
anything
with Carter made his head hurt. Okay, maybe not his head. “Ummmm, no. You guys have fun.”
Click.
He couldn’t get off the phone fast enough.

He hit speed dial for Carter. The phone rang for approximately an hour—or perhaps just a minute or two. Voicemail. He didn’t leave a message, which was probably good because his mouth would have overloaded his brain enough to make a complete ass of himself.

Badeep deep.

A text message came through. He stared at the screen.

Carter:
Sorry, can’t talk. Took ur advice—meeting Amanda later for coffee and dinner.

Jackson frowned. Dinner? She had told him she’d be home later. Nothing was said about dinner. And which advice was he taking? The one about trusting more and choosing to get serious rather than waiting for the world to come to him? Or the one about buying Amanda something to show he cared?

Jackson thumbed in a response and waited. The screen took forever to buzz a response but when it did, Jackson felt sweat bead up on the back of his neck.

Carter:
Yes … I bought her something. Hope she likes it.

Crap.
What should he say? How do you wish your best friend failure for the first time ever? He couldn’t, but he wouldn’t wish him luck either.

He typed:
Let me know how it goes.

The next few hours would suck if he didn’t find something to concentrate on. He pulled out the copy of the contract he’d given to Amanda and tried to focus on the words.

Within minutes Jackson had highlighted certain portions of text that were questionable. The contract stipulated an advance that seemed exorbitant with terms that were easily avoided and non-binding. In addition, the delivery terms and payment schedules didn’t follow normal patterns or have dependencies that protected the company. It put them at significant risk. Why had Dad agreed to this? It didn’t make sense. He glanced at the bottom of the document and deciphered the typist’s initials. DR/saw. David Radigan, the head council, drafted the document and one of the pool administratives typed it for him. Normally a legal team would be assigned to a contract of this monetary value.

Jackson wasn’t on the team. He had no idea if any of the other two legal staff members were involved. Duties had been shifted around quite a bit when Amanda left in order to balance the load until they decided how to handle her departure, according to David.

No decision had been forthcoming and they still juggled her workload between three staff members, himself included. Until recent events.

There were several parcels of land involved in this particular contract, not uncommon. That was what real-estate developers did—develop property to meet the needs of their client. He waded through land surveys, environmental surveys, documentation on mineral rights assessments, and oddly one archeological survey. Interesting. Flipping through the pages, he grimaced at the complexity of the deal.

Ten parcels of land, all different sizes in acreage. All but three were individually owned. The three others were owned by a trust, probably a family trust. He opened the folder for the three and scanned it, seeking information on the trust. The contract mentioned nothing about a trust fund.

Jackson needed Amanda’s input
badly,
but he wouldn’t call. Not while she was with Carter. Of course, he wasn’t sure she actually was with Carter at the moment. He picked up his cell and typed in a text to Carter.

Did you give her the tickets?

A response came immediately.

Carter:
Waiting for her to show.

A few seconds passed, then another message showed:
Hope ur right about the tickets.

Jackson ignored the guilt that stabbed at his conscience and responded:
If she not like, you can take me.

No answer came. Maybe she’d showed up? Were they having that coffee? Or talking about last night? His stomach turned.

Jackson sighed. He should have told Carter everything. Of course, if he had, it would have just accentuated the man’s trust issues. Nope. It would be better to wait and see what happened. If he never talked with her again, was it worth the trouble?

Jackson reviewed five more pages of the contract, then looked at his watch. He typed another message:
She seen them yet? What she say?

Crickets. Nothing. No answer. He waited an hour before trying to call Carter. The call went straight to voicemail. He sent another text. Silence.

Had she told him? Hell, she could have at least allowed him the courtesy of being there, or let him break the news instead. After all, Jackson had known Carter much longer. Like all his life. He tried again to call and text without success.

Jackson finished his notes on the contract, tossed the document in his satchel, and headed for the door. No way in hell could he concentrate another minute. He needed to find her—or them. But where?

Wait. No, what he really needed to do was relax. Leave it alone. Anything else would just make it worse. On his way home, he decided to detour by Baker Street Pub for a beer and sandwich. He wasn’t up for being home alone with his paranoid thoughts of two lost friendships. By nine thirty that night, he’d given up on a call. From Amanda or Carter. Why did he feel even worse than if he’d confessed?

He sat in his lounger in front of the TV, switching between ESPN and The Weather Channel. Back and forth. Rockets up by ten over Seattle. High of eighty-two degrees tomorrow with 30 percent chance of rain. Seattle scored a three-pointer. Chance of rain over the weekend went down to 20 percent. The northeast was getting pummeled with unexpected showers and flooding.

Jackson turned the television off and stared at the dark screen.

Amanda was with Carter.

Or was she? She hadn’t called, but had he asked her to? No. What he had done was tell her he’d stop by that night. Or maybe she’d asked Jackson to stop by? He couldn’t remember and it didn’t matter. That happened before she agreed to see Carter.