Sweet Talk Boxed Set (Ten NEW Contemporary Romances by Bestselling Authors to Benefit Diabetes Research plus BONUS Novel) (18 page)

“You going to stand there and hover outside my door all day, sunshine?”

Leila gasped.  Embarrassed about being caught, but too curious not to find out the story over what she’d just eavesdropped on, she stepped into the office and sank down in the chair in front of his desk.  “You just talked Steve through his entire segment.”

Jackson shrugged.  “No big deal.  Steve’s been trying to quit smoking ever since he lost his uncle to lung cancer.  So he’s been a little on edge.  The bosses have been talking to him about his contract, and expressing some concerns.” Jackson’s expression steeled stubbornly. “He’s a good anchor.  I didn’t want to see him lose his job just because he was trying to possibly save his life.”

“And you didn’t do this down in the production booth because?”  She didn’t really have to ask.  She just wanted to hear him say it.

Another half-shrug.  “It didn’t need to be broadcasted. We all have rough times.”

Leila shook her head.  “You’re a good guy, Jackson.  A prince among men.”

His hazel eyes flickered a bit, as they dropped down to her lips like they did more frequently than she imagined he knew.  “By the way, how did you know I was standing outside?”

He remained silent until his eyes left her lips to meet hers again.  “You always smell like strawberries.”  A blast of heat exploded in his gaze.  This time, hot, hungry, and
knowingly
fixed on her lips as she bit her lower lip to stem the gasp that had flown up her throat at the hunger she had seen flash in his eyes. 

His voice was a gravelly rumble.  “That’s how I always know when you’re nearby, sunshine.”

***

Jackson watched Leila touch the end of her hair self-consciously.  “I didn’t realize it was that strong,” she said softly with a frown.

It wasn’t.  It was barely there, but Jackson always noticed it.  The fresh, feminine scent of her shampoo never failed to drive him crazy every morning. 

He’d caught the faint scent the first day she’d walked past him.  Sun-ripened wild strawberries, he’d determined, the kind that smelled as sweet as they did green.  The summer before his senior year in high school, Jackson had been hiking to clear his head and temporarily escape the complications that had been his family legacy even back then.   He’d stumbled upon an old field about an hour north of his home, along with a fellow football player he recognized from a neighboring school who was foraging through the bushes like a junkie looking for a pot plant.  Turned out, the prize was pretty close—wild strawberries that were the best damn thing Jackson could ever remember tasting.  By the time the two of them had finished eating every last berry they could find at the base of that hill, Jackson had found a friend unlike anyone he’d ever met before.  To this day, Bennett was still one of his best buddies, the one guy he could count on to take him on some crazy adventure whenever life stopped being fun.

So now, he had
two
reasons to smile over the scent of strawberries.

A few minutes ago, when he’d realized Leila was outside of his office smack-dab in the middle of his pep talk with Steve, Jackson had very nearly stalked over to his door and dragged her in.  It was a near thing.

When she frowned and took an investigative sniff of her hair, he explained, “You can barely smell it; I just haven’t seen you all day, which is why I noticed it.  But really, it’s mostly just in the mornings.”

“That makes sense, I guess, since I shower in the mornings before work.”

Great.  Now the image of her naked in the shower would be forever attached to the scent of strawberries.  He shifted in his seat. 

“I honestly had no idea, Jackson.  I’m sorry.  I can switch to a different brand if it’s overpowering.  I’ve never been one for dousing myself with perfume—in fact, I hate it when others do that—”

“Don’t.  I like it.  Of course, I can’t eat anything with strawberries anymore without getting…ah,
distracted
.  But that’s not a bad thing, you know, when I’m safely seated behind my desk like now.”

She chuckled.  “You’re never going to stop are you?”

“Sunshine, I haven’t even
started
yet.  Not until you give me the green light.”

Green, green, green. 
Every male cell in his body was chanting it like a prayer.

“Leila?”
hollered a loud voice from out in the hall, interrupting his communing with the traffic light gods.  “We’re almost ready for you down in Studio B.”

She looked back at Jackson and lifted her shoulders excitedly.  “My first day filming a green room segment. I have a one-minute slot during ‘
Team Command Central During the NFL Draft
.’”

He grinned.  “I heard.  The ‘War Room’ special with the Outlaws.  That’s awesome.  The Outlaws’ war room, is supposed to be the most state of the art in the league—I hear they can find things twice as fast as some of the other teams during the draft.”

Beaming, she nodded giddily.  “They sent us some room images and fun tidbits.  Did you know their war room is actually three separate rooms, and they have back-up generators and all sorts of extravagant contingency plans for every situation, including natural disasters?”

He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he’d already read through her segment notes.  “That is incredibly cool.  Your section is going to be a hit, I’m sure of it.”  With her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling, and her nervous energy bouncing her up the walls, it was impossible not to tease, “Let me know if you want me to be on comm with you whole time, too.  I can whisper dirty, filthy football stats into your ear the entire time to keep your nerves down.”

She ducked her head down to try and hide—unsuccessfully—the sweetest blush Jackson had ever seen, and wide amber eyes now glittering with heat as well as excitement.

“There you go again, sunshine,” he graveled in a husky murmur, “thinking thoughts neither of us can cash in on.”

And just like that, his feisty little wildcat was back.  “Can you blame me?  You make it damn hard for a girl to resist.”

A growl rumbled through his chest and just barely stopped at his throat.  “Your unfiltered honesty is hell on my good intentions, sweetheart.” 

He was saved from having to think too hard about all his ‘not-so-good intentions’ when the voices from the earpiece still fitted in his ear questioning where questioning where Leila was.  He quickly nodded to the door.  “You better go.  They’re starting to look for you.”

She quickly got up and dropped a box on his desk before making her exit.

“What’s this?”

“I heard you talking with one of the guys last week about your friend’s mom having arthritis in her hands.  You talked about her so fondly, so I made something for her.  Hopefully they help.”

He took out a pair of fingerless mittens.  “You knitted these?”

She shrugged.  “It was easy.  I know some old biddies from my town swear by these.  First thing in the morning, and each night when they put their joint salves on.” 

Flipping them over, he chuckled at the curling pink tail along the top of the wrist and the triangular ears poking up from the index finger and pinky finger knuckles.  “
Piglets
?”

Grinning, she petted one of the piglets.  “I figured even if they didn’t help, at least they could make her smile when she looked at her hands.”

For chrissakes.  She was so. Damn. Sweet. 

He couldn’t help himself.

Slowly, so slowly she could easily walk away if she wanted to, he backed her up against the wall behind his open door, thankful that he hadn’t remembered to open the privacy blinds he had on the picture windows separating his office from the main floor.

“Sunshine, you make me want things I shouldn’t hope for, shouldn’t even imagine I can keep.” 

Eyes wide, breathing shaky, she asked, “Like what?”

“You.”

“Jackson—”

His mouth came crashing down onto hers and her body instantly molded against his. 

Perfect. She was just goddamn perfect.  As he swept his tongue across her lower lip, the way he’d been fantasizing about since they’d met, she moaned softly.

…A split second before the sound of something clattering to the floor brought them crashing back to reality.

Leila froze in his arms and then quickly jerked herself out of his embrace.

Eyes hazy with lust, frustration, and a dozen other chaotic emotions, Jackson swung his gaze to the door and saw Alan, one of his junior reporters who’d been chomping at the bit to venture into field reporting since last year, standing about three feet away from them with a look of shock.  Which was soon followed up by barely concealed disapproval for them both, and finally, clear
disdain
for Leila. 

“They’re still waiting for you downstairs, Leila.  When you’re done here…”  The mockery in his tone was cutting and Jackson would have immediately censured Alan if not for the sheer panic and horror crossing Leila’s features.

The second Alan left, Leila’s shoulders fell.  “This is why I told you we can’t do this.  A woman can’t be in this field without getting labeled as a slut who got promoted to the top on the flat of her back.  You saw the way Alan just looked at me.  And he’s
always
been nice to me before this.”

Shit, he’d screwed this up big time.  “I’m sorry, sunshine.  I’ll fix it.  I lost my head there.  It was inexcusable of me.  I’ll talk to Alan and tell him this was all me.”

She shook her head and said softly, “No, don’t apologize.  And…it wasn’t all you.  I’ve wanted to kiss you since…”  She blinked.  “I actually can’t even remember a time I didn’t want to kiss you, quite frankly.”

Jackson exhaled a silent curse.  “Sweetheart, for both our sakes, don’t tell me things like that.  I don’t know that I’ll be able to control myself around you if you do.”

A look of wild abandon sparked in her eyes.  “Then you can’t tell me things like
that. 
I…like the idea of you losing control around me.  Because of me.”

He groaned.  And then fought the urge to punch his hand through a wall when a loud, jeering throat-clearing came from outside of the door.  “I’ll talk to Alan.  Don’t worry, I’ll fix this.  And in the meantime…I get it.  I won’t let myself lose control around you again.  I promise.”

The small flash of disappointment that preceded her nod as she exited nearly had him calling back the vow and dragging her back into the office, throat-clearing, judgmental co-workers be damned.

But then he replayed the horrified look that had struck Leila at Alan’s scorn over catching them in the compromising position.

Never again.  He never wanted to see Leila look that hurt again. Even if it meant ten freaking cold showers a day, and the unbearable thought of never having those soft lips of hers under his again.  If he could prevent it, he was never going to allow pain like that to touch her life again.

CHAPTER FIVE

NFL Draft, Day One

“Outstanding work tonight, everyone,” boomed a grinning Lloyd, the pride in his voice genuine and deep as he looked out at the standing room only crowd of every last exhausted DBC Sports Network employee affiliated with the football division.  “We’ve only got preliminary numbers back but safe to say, this is definitely the highest network ratings we’ve ever had, not just for the opening day of the NFL Draft, but in the history of our broadcasting.” 

Applause, and jubilant hoots and hollers sounded around the station floor. 

“And not just that,” he continued when the clapping died down, “but thanks to the rockstar field reporting by our very own Leila Hart, both her interview with the Hawks on the first round draft pick that no one saw coming, and the phone interview she snagged with the Outlaws after their botched pick—Twitter, Facebook, YouTube, and countless betting blogs went crazy.  The two interviews went viral in minutes, and our servers nearly crashed with the traffic that first hour.” 

He shot his hands up to temporarily stem the resulting tide of good cheer.  “In addition, our Sales Department has just informed us that within mere hours, we fulfilled and then
exceeded
our ad quota both online and on air for the
entire year
, hitting a new high with the advertising giants and the biggest players in the online betting world.”

“And—” he shouted over the instant excited chatter the unprecedented announcement instigated, “our I.T. folks report that our Draft-Coverage page on our network website has shot up to the third most searched NFL Draft story on Google tonight.  Not too shabby for a day’s work for our little network, I’d say.” 

Overjoyed merriment burst out and filled the air.  And throughout it all, Jackson stood off to the side, watching a supremely-deserving Leila get congratulated left and right. 

Radiant in her elation, and downright resplendent with pride, she was a vision.  He couldn’t take his eyes off her.  And hell, when that luminous smile of hers found its way over to him, he felt something clench tight in his chest and refuse to let go.  

“We still have two more days,” finished Lloyd as the hullabaloo settled down.  “Six more rounds to go over the next two days.  And if today was any indication, they’re going to be exciting rounds as a result.  So let’s keep those numbers up and give our viewers our very best.  Get some rest, everyone.  See you all tomorrow.”

Another round of applause followed Lloyd as he shut off his mic and got swallowed up in the sea of chatting, departing workers.  Jackson lost sight of Leila for a bit, and by the time he made it over to her end of the room, she was surrounded by anchors and reporters calling out praises and questions faster than she could respond.  The team of source-checkers that primarily covered the local stories with the Hawks were bending her ear at the moment, undoubtedly since they well knew how ornery Arizona’s head coach could be. 

“I can’t believe you actually remembered that Coach Harding used to use the attacking 3-4 defense when he coached in college.”

“Shit, did you see how stunned he’d looked when she pointed out their lack of a true nose tackle to shore up the middle?”