Love Me: The Complete Series (46 page)

Regardless, it was too late. He’d figure it out in the morning. By then he’d hear from one of them, right? He’d be a basket-case if not. He dropped the remote and went to bed. An early workout tomorrow would clear his head. That would get his mind on business and back on track.

Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam.

Jackson opened his eyes and stared at the dark ceiling. What the hell was that? The pounding started again. He bolted out of bed in his briefs and grabbed the bat from his closet. More pounding.

Someone was at the door? He glanced at the clock in the hall as he tiptoed toward the noise. Two forty-three in the morning. Nothing good could possibly be waiting on the other side of that door. He peeked through the window.

“Open the door, Jax. I saw you.” Yeah, he saw her too. Okay, maybe he was wrong about good things behind doors in the middle of the night.

After placing the bat by the hinges, he twisted the lock and pulled the door. “Hi.”

Amanda’s eyes were wet, mascara streaking down her cheeks. “He bought me tickets, Jax. Season tickets. What the hell was that about? Did you know he was going to do that?”

Jackson rubbed his left eye, then strung his fingers over his hair, trying to imagine an appropriate answer. She was already pissed so would it worsen things to tell the truth? He wasn’t sure. “What happened?”

She shoved past him and threw herself on his couch, crushing the pile of newspapers he’d read yesterday morning. “Carter wanted to meet me to give me a gift. Please tell me you didn’t know.”

There wasn’t any point to lying and he wasn’t a dishonest guy, so he pushed the door shut. A cool breeze wafted over his back as it clunked closed. “He mentioned it.”

“Did he tell you
why
he wanted to buy a gift?” Amanda asked the question but didn’t wait for the answer. “It was a celebration gift. Our
three-month anniversary
,
apparently. I didn’t even know. Or care, to be honest. Isn’t that
terrible
? And he’s doing something so incredibly thoughtful and sweet that I—”

Jackson stepped closer and lowered to sit beside her on the couch, half afraid to touch her. “You what?”

Amanda’s hair clung to her wet cheek as she rattled her head back and forth. “It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t right anyway. I messed up. You. Me. All of it. I shouldn’t have …”

Somewhere along the line, he’d missed something because she was making no sense at all. What didn’t matter? She was regretting last night? She thought it was a mistake? He grasped her arms and tried to be calm, not an easy task when his stomach was so close to hurling he couldn’t breathe. “What happened tonight, Amanda?”

Tears were streaming from her eyes and the black streaks of mascara on her face trailed deeper down her neck. She hiccupped. If she kept this up, she’d have black mascara running down the pink T-shirt she was wearing. Her shoulders rose and fell as she pulled in a deep breath in an effort to calm down. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here. I—”

“It’s okay. I’m glad you did but I can’t help if you don’t at least give me a hint what’s wrong.” Jackson focused on her face, a hard task because he was pretty sure there wasn’t anything under that T-shirt and the pajama pants were untied and so low, he could see bare skin between the two.
Focus, asshole.
“Talk to me.”

“I broke up with him. Technically we didn’t break up because we were never officially together. But he was talking about anniversaries and season tickets and fancy dinners together. It was all so, so relationshippy. I couldn’t do it. Not after last night.”

The quiet sound of a car passing on the street emphasized the calmness that began to dislodge the sick feeling in his stomach. “Mandy, it’s going to be fine. Everything will work out … fine. You want some tea? Or maybe a shot of bourbon?”

Though her eyes still rained, the torrential downpour slowed enough for her lips to curl slightly. “Tea might be good. Bourbon would be better, but probably not a safe idea.”

Safe? Who needs safe?
Jackson disagreed but thought it best not to say anything. He walked to his kitchen, made a glass of tea, and returned. The time elapsed was enough for her to collect herself. When he set the glass down on the table, she was hunched over and reading the notes he’d made on the contract.

“So David is working this contract now? Last I heard, it had been assigned to Gabe Dennis, the new guy.” Her voice was stronger now.

“Dennis left a few months after you. David took over about half of your old contracts and I took the rest. This one changed hands twice, which might explain why it’s such a mess.”

Amanda nodded without looking up. “You’re right about that. This is going to the board this week?”

“In two days but I’m debating whether to take it off the agenda. There’s too many questions.” Jackson was glad for the change of subject. He had no idea how to handle tears. Without any sisters, his only experience dealing with emotional women included his mother and Carter’s sister, before she died. That had been years ago. His mother wasn’t exactly a normal woman with normal emotions so she was a bad example.

“Your note here says ‘why?’” Amanda pointed at his chicken-scratch on the page. He hadn’t really planned for anyone to read his remarks and hoped she hadn’t seen the pages toward the back where he’d used a few choice words.

“I didn’t understand the archeologist. I mean, how many people just decide to start digging for artifacts out of the blue? What prompted that in the beginning and why had it been relevant enough to require review by an expert?”

Amanda nodded, her eyes glued to the pages. “There wasn’t an archeologist review in the first contract.”

“No?” That made it even more puzzling.

She shook her head and took another sip of tea. “Have you talked to them?”

“The archeologist?”

A wisp of hair fell into her mouth when she shook her head once more. “No, the contractors, or the property owners, or the attorney that drew up that document.”

“I haven’t talked to anyone except you. To be honest, I’d never seen this at all until a week ago. I probably wouldn’t have if Dad hadn’t been incapacitated to do so himself. I just didn’t want to go to the board meeting without looking over each of the agenda items and knowing what was encompassed in the document.”

Her eyes rose to his and the scrutiny of Amanda’s tear-stained expression held a depth of curiosity. He shrugged. “I know—don’t say it—why do I care, right? I’m just the spoiled rich son. Why should I get involved?”

Her eyes stayed steady for a couple of seconds. “Actually, I wondered if your father would even look at this under normal circumstances. Perhaps he’s lucky you
are.
Tell me something. Do you think things like this happen for a reason? I don’t wish your father in the hospital but this contract is huge for the company and maybe, just maybe, it needed more eyes on it. Have you asked him about it?”

His dad? How was he supposed to ask him anything in his current state? “No, but I don’t want to worry him. He needs to concentrate on his health. The business can manage for a while.”

“You’re a good son. I hope your parents know that.”

Oddly, it occurred to him he’d never heard those words from them. Other important words—love, pride, appreciation—sure. A
good son
—those words were never spoken. He wasn’t even sure he’d thought of it until that moment.

Jackson didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure what to say.

Instead he picked up the remote and turned on music to break the silence that filled the gaps in their talk. It was too early in the morning for anything too loud or busy so he set the station to soft music that would have fit nicely in a dentist’s lobby or an office reception area.

Amanda wiped her face and stood to leave. “You should take it off the agenda.”

She was right, and he’d thought of doing so. “David said my dad wanted it moved so that we could get this project going. Apparently, it’s been on the back burner for a while. He said Dad was insistent. There was a narrow window with one of the vendors to get started.”

She raised a brow. “Maybe it’s not your dad who’s in a rush. Besides, if it’s waited this long, one more month won’t matter. Tell them, you need it to wait until he’s better. They’ll understand. At least go ask your mom what the urgency is. David’s not exactly a nice guy. Maybe he has a hidden agenda. Tomorrow, I’ll get in touch with the archeology survey company and see what I can dig up—no pun intended. I’ll contact the property owners also.”

“You have time for that?”

She straightened her hair and ran a hand over her shirt as if smoothing the wrinkles. T-shirts always had wrinkles so it seemed a little humorous. “Billable time, sure. You’ll pay me for the work, right? Or were you expecting this to be pro bono? I’m not a public defender so I don’t normally do that type of thing.”

“We’ll pay you … but can we save the bill until the work is finished? I don’t want to raise any red flags at the moment.” Not to mention, he had no idea how to get outside legal counsel approved without going through
inside
legal counsel. Especially since they’d wonder why he felt it necessary considering his legal background.

Amanda held out a hand to seal the agreement. How professional. Her hand shook a little as she waited for him to grasp it in an equally professional and firm grip. He didn’t. Instead he put one hand under her graceful fingers and traced each individual digit of her hand with his free one. Very slowly, he ran his index finger along the quivering lines of her soft skin. Amanda had long slender fingers void of jewelry. She’d obviously spent a little time at a nail salon recently as the nails were perfectly manicured.

She attempted to pull back. He squeezed the hand, keeping it tightly in his own. “Who would have thought such a tiny little hand could wrap around a man’s heart and deal a death blow?” he whispered.

Amanda blinked eyes that no longer had a stitch of makeup. Her mouth dropped. “I wasn’t intending to hurt him.”

She yanked her hand from his grasp and was out the door. Jackson couldn’t move fast enough to stop her.

“I wasn’t talking about Carter.”

She was gone before the words were said.

As Amanda drove away she recognized the fact that truth was a personal thing. What one person considered honest disclosure might be evasive to another. People never really told the whole story anyway. They chose to leave out minor details or skew the facts for various reasons. Perhaps telling all the details was cumbersome, a waste of time, or simply certain details were forgotten. Some people believed themselves noble for not telling the full truth because it might hurt someone.

Amanda wasn’t even sure what the full truth entailed nor if she knew and understood enough of it to disclose anything. Jackson’s contract was so incredibly different from the one she’d seen and worked on while at their company. The archeological review hadn’t been part of the original contract because the artifact discovery occurred while the contract was under edits. One of the property owners died and everything was put on hold.

None of that mattered under the present terms because the new contract had different people involved and stipulations that covered the new find. She doubted she’d be able to add anything relevant above and beyond Jackson’s current concerns. Still, she should have mentioned it, right?

She hadn’t given him the full story about Carter either. Jackson had texted Carter while she was with him, asking about the tickets. He
knew
Carter bought them and from what it seemed, it was
his
idea. Why would he suggest something that meant a long-term attendance at public events together? Did he want her to be with Carter? Had she completely imagined the connection with Jackson? Was he trying to push her into a relationship with his friend in order to gain distance?

Amanda wasn’t naïve enough to believe that one night with someone meant a relationship. Nor was she planning to rush over and confess her feelings—first she’d have to understand them. Yet she’d done exactly that—she’d rushed over and cried all over Jackson about the breakup.

Earlier Carter had followed her into the street, astonished that she had broken his phone and dumped him in public. The phone thing was simply a frustration with his texto-manic personality. Then she’d dropped an even bigger bomb: she told him she was involved with someone else.

She’d lied.

It was only a partial lie but still dishonest. She wasn’t in a relationship with anyone else. To be in a relationship, a person had to know how the other one thought and felt. She didn’t. It wasn’t like the night with Jackson was earth-shattering or life-changing either. Did that really happen? Nope, this was more real than that, not something in a storybook. It was simply so warm and nice, she could imagine staying there for days. Touching each other in so many ways until she knew every inch of him. Amanda sighed and checked herself in the rearview mirror. Lovely. She wiped the smudges below her eyes.

Traffic was sparse on the roads at three in the morning and her car sat at the red street light, the only vehicle awaiting a change of color in order to continue home. Her story to Carter was similar to the light. The traffic signal had turned yellow as she approached, the warning to prepare to stop.

The light was like Jackson’s eagerness to switch to discussions of his contract—a warning to tread carefully. In all honesty, she’d swayed toward the contract because she was so wound up about the breakup, she had needed some breathing room to think. Then he launched into work discussion and moved to put distance between them.

During the breakup she had told Carter,
I’m involved with someone else.
But she had no idea if her words were true or if she even wanted them to be. Should she have told him the “someone else” was his friend? No, that was cruel. Wasn’t it?

It would destroy their friendship.

Amanda pounded her head against the steering wheel a couple of times before hitting the gas when the light turned.
Hell, Jackson, I thought I’d gotten away from you.