Jackson's Trust

by Violet Duke

  “They’re still waiting for you downstairs, Leila. When you’re done ‘getting help’ for your first big segment. Congrats again, by the way. You certainly earned it.” The mockery and accusation in his tone was cutting, and Jackson would have immediately censured Alan to nip that shit in the bud if not for the sheer panic and horror crossing Leila’s features.

  Censure, hell, he was ready to beat the bloody crap out of the man for putting that expression on her face.

  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. “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 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 withdrawing the vow and dragging her back into the office, 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 10

  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, these are unquestionably 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.

  “Not just that,” he continued when the clapping died down, “but thanks to the rock star field reporting by our very own Leila Hart, both her exclusive live interview with the Hawks on the first round draft pick that no one saw coming, and the exclusive phone interview she snagged with the Reno 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 online 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 IT 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 ones because of the crazy first picks. 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 mike 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 who primarily covered the local stories with the Hawks was bending her ear at the moment, undoubtedly because 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?”

  “And then boom, the vault was cracked wide open. By the end of the interview, he was acting like he was talking to one of his assistant coaches, not a reporter. Amazing, Hart. Best interview ever.”

  Jackson stood off to the side and watched Leila graciously receive everyone’s congratulations and compliments with class and humility, being sure to give generous thanks to several source checkers and junior reporters who had given her important info on the Hawks…which she’d already known, but thanked them as if she hadn’t.

  And finally, he saw her eyes widen in surprise when Alan, the junior reporter who’d sneered at her after witnessing the kiss, came up to give her a heartfelt congrats as well.

  Astonished, Leila swung her gaze over to Jackson. He nodded that it was fine, because it was. He’d tracked Alan down and got everything fixed quite simply by telling the man the truth.

  Which was essentially everything he couldn’t tell Leila.

  How she was on his mind constantly.

  How that kiss had been a moment of weakness, and revelation.

  How, with a woman like Leila, it wouldn’t ever be just about sex.

  And how he wished like hell he were a different man.

  With each of Jackson’s confessions, Alan’s expression had remained unreadable, until the last one. “You really like her, don’t you?”

  Momentarily thrown at the question—no one had asked him that about a woman in years—Jackson had found himself without an answer that could give justice to what he felt for Leila. Admiration, affection, respect. A growing friendship with a kindred football spirit unlike any he’d ever encountered before. Along with a soul-piercing attraction, no doubt.

  And that’s when he realized what it all boiled down to. “Yeah,” he replied with complete honesty. “I like her. More than I can ever tell her.”

  Even Jackson could hear the surprise in his own voice over the statement, and Alan’s answering shoulder pat told him he wasn’t the only one who’d heard it. Over the past few years, Jackson had slept with a number of great women—some he probably would’ve even contemplated having a serious relationship with, under different circumstances.

  But in all honesty, he hadn’t liked any of them near as much as he liked Leila.

  “What if she feels the same way?” Alan had asked quietly.

  Jackson tried to unhear the question, but he couldn’t, because it was one he asked himself constantly.

  Frankly, he didn’t know which answer would pain
him more.

  Now as her gaze sought out his, he felt the pull he always did toward her. As effortless as gravity, and just as deceptively powerful. Constant.

  Everything in his gut told him it was the same for her.

  Even as she’d nodded and murmured her thanks to the half dozen folks talking over themselves for the past half hour, it was as if her eyes were magnetized to his presence.

  With every moment’s glance, every wordless two-way dialog that seemed to travel back and forth between them, every reason they should stay away from each other ceased to matter. Ceased to exist.

  As far as he was concerned, they were the only two people in the room.

  Eventually, one other voice did manage to filter into his thoughts—Alan’s. All it took was Alan’s boisterous declaration that he’d be buying the first round of drinks tonight at the bar across the street, for all the remaining analysts and reporters to begin clearing out.

  At Alan’s brow-waggling you’re-welcome bow, Jackson grinned and made a mental note to remember to buy Alan a round—or ten—of drinks in thanks for the assist.

  Leila got bombarded with a parting wave of shoulder pats and one-armed hugs as the last of the workers left the floor.

  Throughout it all, Jackson waited.

  All evening, he’d replayed a thousand times over in his mind the scorching-hot kiss they couldn’t repeat. And while he’d resigned himself to the gut-kicking reality that there would be no more kisses between them, he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to at least be the last man whose arms were around her tonight.

  The sad consolation prize paled in comparison to being the only man whose arms got the pleasure of holding her every night.

  But he’d take it.

  He wrapped his arms around her silently and then just stared at the myriad of emotions displayed in those big honey brown eyes of hers.

  She didn’t move to disengage after the acceptable timeframe of a standard platonic hug, and almost as if his brain had been keeping time, his body pulled her in closer. The pink in her cheeks—which had been just from the wine and excitement before—turned a shade darker, and a whole lot more meaningful.

  Jackson felt every muscle in his frame harden in possession.

  Jesus, she fit him perfectly.

  It was a fast and furious fall down the rabbit hole after that.

  With her soft curves pressed against him from neck to knees, and her hands sliding across the muscles of his back in an unconscious caress, all the rational reasons he had to avoid this seemed to run through his mind in a foreign language.

  Then she gently smoothed out his tie like she’d done all those weeks ago. Only this time, he felt the back of her fingers sandwiched between his chest and the tie like a blisteringly sexy brand against his skin.

  The lower her hands slid down the tie, the more his arousal rose like a freaking moth to a flame.

  Until the entire room blurred away.

  Chapter 11

  Within seconds, he was having a helluva time remembering why he couldn’t strip her clothes off right then and there.

  Judging by her rapidly dilating eyes and quickened breathing, she was too.

  “There’s the belle of the ball!” boomed Lloyd from across the room.

  Leila quickly dropped her hands and took a step away from Jackson as Lloyd made his way over to them with a beaming grin.

  Jackson took a step back as well, all the while fighting the irrational urge to deck Lloyd on the spot for his awful timing.

  Lloyd gave Leila a jolly two-shoulder squeeze with his pawlike hands. “Now, how the hell did you get a phone exclusive with the Outlaws’ head coach five minutes after they missed their draft pick, Leila? I damn near cried real tears of happiness when I heard that beauty of an interruption during Steve’s continued Draft coverage—that the Outlaws had been on the clock for the eleventh first round pick, but just plain didn’t turn in the name in time…and that DBC Sports Network had the exclusive on what went down.”

  Leila smiled modestly. “I have a source at the Outlaws who made it happen.”

  “Hell of a source. I can’t remember the last time they—” Then a curious brow raised. “Unless…is this the mysterious boyfriend who none of us have met? First the inside look into the Outlaws’ legendary war room the other week, and now the Draft exclusive. Is this mystery guy granting you some favors in exchange for favors in the bedroom? Because I have to tell you, I’m totally in favor of this business arrangement.”

  Leila shot him a look of incredulous, slightly horrified, discomfort. “Uh, no. No on his being my boyfriend and a hell no on my ever doing anything like that for an interview. My source and I are just good friends. Period.”

  Even though Jackson was well aware that Leila and her friend Nick had never dated, he still breathed easier hearing and seeing the mild trauma even the suggestion of something more than friendship caused. The woman just had too many damn guy friends who she assumed all saw her like a sister since she saw them all as brothers. But Jackson knew better.

  Over the past few weeks of grabbing lunch at the food trucks outside of their building over their lunch hour and the occasional quick beer or quick bite they’d grab with their colleagues after work, Jackson had met at least a dozen of her guy friends.

  They were all nice guys who respected the friend zone with her as far as he could tell. Even so, every damn one of them would have a moment of weakness when their eyes would stray below her neck. He didn’t blame them, they were guys with functioning eyes and she had the kind of body that those eyes couldn’t help but appreciate.

  Logic didn’t help the jealousy, however.

  And while Nick was actually one of the guys who did manage to keep his eyes on Leila’s at all times, he still brought out the strongest feelings of jealousy Jackson had ever had to stomach in his adult life. Even the mere speculation of Nick being Leila’s boyfriend had sent a wave of possessiveness roaring through Jackson that would’ve made a caveman proud.

  It took a long few seconds for the rushing tide of blood in his ears to clear enough for him to follow the conversation again.

  “Well, however you got your friend in Reno to get us the exclusive with Coach Preston, you did good.” Lloyd turned to double-thump Jackson on the back in triumph. “Can I pick ’em or can I pick ’em? Leila’s already done more during her short time here than any of our other sideline reporters over the years combined.”

  “Yep, Leila’s the real deal.” Jackson nodded and tossed out casually, “Better talk to the boys upstairs to make sure her post-probationary period contract is strong enough to keep her here with us. You know every network out there is going to start wining and dining her soon with some big offers.”

  The immediate look of true worry on Lloyd’s face, followed by what could only be described as a dignified scramble to the elevators, had both Leila and Jackson smothering back a laugh.

  Once Lloyd was out of earshot, Jackson turned his attention back to Leila, momentarily distracted by the reference to Coach Preston again. Lloyd hadn’t been wrong—the interview had been epic. And the curiosity was killing him. “You spun the story a little to help the Outlaws, didn’t you?”

  Leila froze and looked around to make sure no one was around before conceding humbly, “I…just angled the spotlight a specific way. The Outlaws had run out of time trying to close up a trade with the Rebels—”

  “For their running back,” he guessed.

  Her answering smile was impressed—and not at all surprised. “Exactly. The Rebels were dragging their feet and screwing with them. The second their time on the clock ran out, Nick texted me, pissed as hell. I had an idea as to how we could use an exclusive interview to plant a few seeds out there—dropping some hints for two teams in particular—before tomorrow’s rounds to help guide things back on course for the Outlaws.”

  Damn, that was quick thinking. “Ensuring they’d be able to trade out during their third round pick for the Sentinels’ second str
ing running back and fourth round pick,” he concluded, nodding in approval.

  She grinned, with no small amount of admiration. “I knew you’d figure it out. They’ll be sliding Davis out of his current position to allow the adjustment—”

  “Which you kept quiet to stop the Vipers from poaching Hernandez at the top of the second round tomorrow.” He shook his head, marveling at the expert way she’d handled this. “And you got a two-for-one deal because that ends up giving the Miners a leg up over the Marauders at the end of the second round, who’ll inevitably be making a deal with the Rebels over their first round pick next year, and their defensive back.”

  She released a gusty sigh, as if simultaneously releasing the pressure of the secrets she’d been keeping for the past few hours off her shoulders, and thanking him for being the only being on the planet who spoke the same language that she did.

  A hesitant look crossed her features. “You think I should’ve told the whole story?”

  “Nope, not at all. That was a brilliant strategy. We have only three NFL teams on our network. Cultivating a strong relationship is paramount to everything we do here. Some of the other network sportscasters and hosts were shining the light on the missed pick, with negative jeering and pure gossip on who the Outlaws had been trying to make a deal with. A total waste of airtime. You found a way to make news and help two teams in our network.”

  Nodding his approval, he predicted, “Come tomorrow, I guarantee everyone who cares in Utah will be getting an earful from sportscasters about how your interview also helped the Miners shift their strategy with their late first round pick, and inevitably got them the exact thing they need to build the strongest 4-3 defense they’ve had in years.”