Sweet Talk Boxed Set (Ten NEW Contemporary Romances by Bestselling Authors to Benefit Diabetes Research plus BONUS Novel) (16 page)

“Sex.”  His eyes stayed glued to hers as he dropped the one word like a bomb.  “Just sex.  Sometimes lunch or dinner, but never breakfast.  And sex.  That honest enough for you, sunshine?”

Yep.  That worked.  To settle her curiosity at the moment, yes.  In getting her to want to widen the number of spaces between them on the game board?  Not so much.  She watched him watch her reaction to his answer, and gave him the smile she knew he wasn’t expecting.  Along with the follow-up she knew he
really
wasn’t expecting.  “So you flirting with me earlier was you picking up on some sex-only, no breakfast in bed vibe I have going on?” she teased.  “That’s a pretty powerful gift you got there, Skippy.”

Aaand they were back to standing on the same square on the game board. 

“Sunshine, why do I get the feeling you don’t really have a boyfriend?”

***

Jackson found his palms flat against the wall on either side of her shoulders before he could stop himself.  And yet he did nothing to remedy what was surely a bad decision on his part, work-wise.  Instead, he just watched her, and waited for an answer. 

Her gaze pulled away from his a moment later, and dropped down to his tie.  While her teeth sank into that lush lower lip he’d been fascinated with since yesterday, she reached out her free hand to straighten and smooth out his tie.

Oddly, the unbidden action was a penetrating fist to his chest.  He hadn’t been lying about his having had more than a few passing thoughts of a wife and kids to spoil.  And this tie-straightening?  It belonged right there in the vault with all the other untouchable daydreams for his life.   

When her lips parted then, instead of an answer, he got another question.  “Why do you insist on calling me sunshine?”

“You don’t like it?”

“I’d rather you call me by my name.”

Exhaling slowly, he admitted, “Me too.  Which is why I’m sticking to sunshine.”

Eyes still glued to his tie, she resumed her distracting lip-biting, looking as reflective as she did amused.  “So does that mean I shouldn’t call you Jackson?” 

Holy shit
, he liked the sound of his name on her lips. Too damn much.  “Call me Jackson.”  It wasn’t a reply to her inquiry.  It wasn’t even a request.  It had edged over to a
demand
. 

…Which he tried to dull the alpha impact of, by reminding her, “You didn’t answer my question, sunshine.”

She shook her head.  “No boyfriend.  But don’t tell anyone else here that.”

He nodded.  Yeah, that worked for him.  He didn’t want any of the other vultures in the station circling around her.  “So what’s your stance on morning-after breakfasts?”

Her gaze never wavered.  “I actually like cooking breakfast for one,” she replied with an honesty he could hear clear as day.  “But,” she concluded softly, “I think that’s an irrelevant point for us.”

Coming from any other woman, the finality in that statement would be merely disappointing.  Coming from Leila, his brain was finding it almost unacceptable.  “Let me guess.  You don’t sleep with guys you work with.”

She answered via a slight head-tilt, before driving the point home. “This job is important to me.”

Enough said.  That was that. 

He did his best to curb the disappointment while he dropped his hands from the wall and backed away.  “I don’t blame you.  It’s a great opportunity for your career.”  He grit his teeth against the urge to crowd her back up against the wall when he saw her chest rise and fall, at a pace that matched his own. 

Hell, even the way the woman
breathed
was a turn-on. 

Being the consummate professional around her was going to be a damn nightmare.  But not impossible.  He just had to focus.  “So that brings us right back to why we’re here today; throwing you into the deep end today so you can hit the ground running in this amazing career opportunity.”

Her eyes widened the slightest bit in surprise.  “Just like that?  No muss, no fuss?  I’m now in the same category as Rachel, never to be flirted with again?”

He almost laughed at that as he swept another quick glance over her.  Commercial-shiny, sleek layers of caramel and toffee framing her face, ultra-feminine curves he couldn’t spend too much time on without disrupting the fit of his slacks, and approximately a mile or two of toned legs.  Seriously, she was Snow-freaking-White pretty.  With Disney-worthy eyes, a sweet and sexy country rock goddess smile, and a hella cute tomboy way about her that she couldn’t hide.  Not even under that chic thigh-high skirt and five-button blouse—yes, he’d counted—she had the rightfully-held confidence to wear un-plastered to her body…

The same category as Rachel?  Was she kidding?  Christ, she belonged in a category all her own.  When you threw in her wit, fire, and football chops, Jesus, she was basically his dream girl.

“Don’t think it’s going to be easy for me not to flirt with you, sunshine.  But I respect your commitment to your career.”  So saying, he walked over to the refreshment bar at the corner of the conference room and poured them both some coffee, giving his brain the time it needed to shift gears and make good on his declaration. 

This wasn’t going to be easy.

Because while he had absolutely no problem stepping back when a woman wasn’t interested, Leila
wasn’t
disinterested.  In fact, all evidence would point to her being about as interested as he was.

She was just…off-limits.

A volatile combination.

CHAPTER THREE

Leila watched Jackson’s rigid posture slowly relax the farther away he got from her.  By the time he was on the other end of the room, he’d flipped the conversation around completely, and his voice turned casual, friendly, and all-business. 

Within seconds, he was
just
Jackson Gray again, senior analyst of DBC Sports Network

Inwardly, she mourned the loss.  She was really starting to like the side of him that required closed doors and hushed voices.

When he launched into a quick breakdown of what was to come over the next two weeks, Leila found herself employing the nifty little trick she’d learned back in freshman year of her undergrad during seven a.m. History 101 lectures—separating half her brain from her hand when she took notes.  Her hand scribbled down notes like crazy while the detached half of her brain remained free to analyze all the differences in this version of Jackson.

His crooked grin was different, tilted to the left corner instead of the right.  The tame corner.  Plus, there was no accompanying gentle eyebrow quirk that made a girl wonder just how dirty his thoughts were at the moment.  And his eyes…they’d tempered down from scorching to merely sizzling.

She’d miss the other Jackson, but the transition was undoubtedly for the best. 
This
Jackson, she could be around without mentally undressing.

Well, for the most part.  The man was still gorgeous.

From across the room, he held up the selection of sweetened coffee creamers and waited patiently for her wandering brain to snap back to the conference room, without a comment or even a teasing look. 

“No cream for me,” she called out, finally.  “But a fairly liberal pour of that sugar container, if you don’t mind.  I usually stop at about two tablespoons.  Or three.”

He chuckled and did exactly that. 

There was something supremely attractive about watching a man doctor your coffee just so, she discovered, eyeing the shiny black mug with the iconic DBC Sports Network logo like it was filled with liquid gold.

He held it about a foot out of her reach, however, upon his return.  Brow raised, he reminded her, “Your turn to tell me your reasons for hiding what you know about football.”

“The short answer?  A friend of mine had some insider info about Lloyd, and his mildly offensive thoughts about sideline reporters.  I believe his exact words of advice for me were: ‘He can’t stand dumb bimbos, but he hates feeling like anyone knows more than him.’”  Along with the extremely helpful: ‘He’s a boob and leg man so make that work for you and you’ll be all set.’”

His sharp eyes scanned her head to toe as he finally handed her the mug, handle side out to her. 

Honest to God, everything the man did was so unassumingly charming.  She couldn’t remember a man ever holding the business end of a piping hot mug, simply so the handle would be free for her to grab. 

“So you’re telling me that these sexy business outfits
aren’t
your normal attire?  Pity,” he teased, all friendly-like.

She flushed, regardless.  “Uh, no.  I checked what your former sideline reporter used to wear as a wardrobe baseline.  When I couldn’t find quite her level of…err, cleavage pageantry in a suit, I just threw some of my regular blouses into the dryer a few times and unbuttoned them one more than I usually do.  But I skipped the colored bra that my friend maintained was Cindy’s go-to attire on the field.”

“This extremely helpful friend with all the good advice wouldn’t happen to work for the Reno Outlaws, now would he?”

Startled, she glanced up.  “You Facebook-stalked me.”

“You didn’t try to Facebook-stalk
me
?”

She hesitated, and then admitted, “Okay, yes, I tried.  But you’re some sort of social media hermit.  And you don’t have a single entry on Google.  How is that possible?”

He shrugged.  “I don’t like being in the spotlight.  And my closest friends all live near me so social media seems redundant.  So is Nick Torres the one who gave you the inside track on Lloyd?  Because sadly, he was pretty dead-on.”

“Yep, that was Nick.  He totally called it.  He straight-out told me that even if the other two candidates on the short list had more experience than I did, showcasing that I had ‘the right look and energy,’—Lloyd’s code words for nice boobs and butt—then I’d probably be hired.”

Jackson sighed.  “Sorry about that.  There aren’t enough excuses in the world I can offer for that man at times.”

She waved it off.  “Honestly, I’m used to it.  Dealt with men like him my whole life.  Hell, I was raised by one.”

“Are we venturing closer to those deep, dark secrets, sunshine?”

“Well, if you Facebook-stalked me, or even googled me, you already know that I’m the ‘other daughter’ of a Utah congressman.”

His lips twitched to the side.  “There were a number of articles that referred to you in that way, yes.”

“So that’s my slightly less-short answer.  I don’t make my private life public because insanely enough, it ends up making news somewhere—though to this day, I’m still mystified as to why anyone would care enough to know where I went for Spring Break my sophomore year, or why I was out drinking with six guys one night.”

She paused for a bit when a not-quite-hidden disgruntled look clouded over his features.  Employing his own tactic of silent inquiry on him, she waited him out.

“I’ve never met a woman who didn’t have a single female friend on Facebook.”

She chose not to analyze why his nettled tone was so flattering.  Instead, she answered his non-question.  “I get along better with guys.  I don’t have a lot in common with most girls.”

That’s when he surprised her completely.  “Well, if you ever feel like making some female friends to break-up the sausage fest, I have two friends who are basically like sisters.  One lives and breathes football, while the other just has way more guy friends than girls.  I can introduce you to them one day if you want.”  He lifted a helpful shoulder.  “I like ‘em, so I assume you would too.”

Blinking, she tried to put a finger on what it was about him that kept throwing her for a loop.

“Anyway, we better get started on your training.  C’mon.”  He opened the conference room door for her and bee-lined through all the desks and cubicles to get to his office.  “I don’t have much advice other than let your work speak for itself.  You don’t have to dumb yourself down to the coaches and players, and you don’t have to bust their balls or try to dazzle them with excessive knowledge, either.  Don’t fake it one direction or the other.  These guys deal with that shit every day in a thousand different forms.  Trust me, they’ll be plenty impressed with the real you.”

And there it was.  That’s what she wasn’t used to.  Him simply accepting her, and admiring her for being her.  Talking to him was just…easy.  He made her feel like she could do anything, but only if she wanted.  As if he saw boundless limits for her, but no bar she had to prove herself by reaching, either.  It was nice.

And he wasn’t like that just with her, either.  She was pleasantly surprised to find he spoke to everyone the same way he did to her.  From the kid delivering the mail to the slick guy she’d met yesterday who’d tooted his own horn at least a half-dozen times within the first minute of their conversation.  She’d always felt that one of the most accurate measures of a person could be gathered by how they treated others.

It seemed where most of the folks in this office were concerned, Jackson stood ten-feet tall. 

And Leila was beginning to agree a hundred percent.

***

Jackson took a seat at his desk.  “I’m sure Lloyd expects me to teach you things like the fact that the football isn’t actually made out of pigskin, but I thought we’d customize your training a little more to your strengths.”  He handed her an iPad and motioned for her to sit.  “This one’s yours, already loaded it up with all our software and logged into the accounts you’ll need to access.”

He grinned when Leila fell into the chair across his desk, an awed expression on her face as she scrolled through the information on the documents on-screen.  “Jackson, I’m not supposed to have access to all this info yet.  I just started my probationary contract.  As far as I can tell, I’m basically just supposed to ask the questions they write for me.” 

“Like I said, sunshine, I customized this training to your strengths.”

That made her pause her scrolling.  “How did you know? That I knew about football, I mean. Lloyd just thought I knew enough about all the sports to get by.  He never caught on the way you did.”