Jackson's Trust

by Violet Duke

  Chapter 26

  “Those guys are pretty special.” Leila smiled, meaning that as a huge compliment. It was clear the trio was like a band of brothers. Annoying antics and all.

  He grunted but couldn’t hide the head-shaking grin. “Yeah. I’m thinking my life would be pretty dull if those two weren’t always disrupting it so much.”

  “How long have you all been friends?”

  “Donovan and I went to the same private school—he transferred in right before freshman year. Bennett was at a public school a district over, but our paths never crossed until the summer before my senior year.”

  “You guys seem so different. How’d you stay so close all these years?”

  “With Donovan, it was more a process of elimination. He doesn’t really ever get close to anyone. Ever. Honestly, I think he became—and stayed—my friend mostly because I annoyed him the least out of everyone around him.”

  “So you’re closer to Bennett?”

  He paused to consider that before answering. “I guess. But he’s the sort who doesn’t really take life seriously. It’s kind of like trying to get close to a constantly moving object. You have to wait for it to stop or slow down. And where Bennett’s concerned, when he does occasionally stop or slow down, he’s pretty much the invade-your-life-completely-like-a-whirlwind sort of friend.”

  “Well, I like ’em. I think you’re lucky.”

  Jackson nodded. “Yeah.” He gazed at her for a beat. “Sometimes I wonder how I got to be so lucky.” He leaned in to brush a quick kiss on her forehead, and then went over to the dining table to gather up all the various folders and other paperwork Caleb had sent over by messenger last night.

  Meanwhile, Leila was just trying not to read too much into his statement.

  She wasn’t completely insane; she’d meant what she said before about this part of Jackson’s life—and him—being foreign to her. They needed to take things slow. He had a whole new chapter in his life he was just beginning. And for all she knew, she might hate dating a billionaire.

  For some reason, though, she wasn’t worried. Cautious, of course. She’d be a fool not to be. But not worried. With her ex, and her old life, she knew she would’ve spent a lifetime wondering if she’d missed out on something greater, lost something she’d never be able to get back.

  With Jackson, that was the furthest worry from her heart.

  She wanted to be with him, period. The rest of it, only time would tell.

  Watching him now, she realized he looked stressed.

  Not a good way to start the day, in her book.

  When Jackson grimaced at the stuffy-looking briefcase Caleb had couriered over, along with twenty or so different suits—via some special twenty-four-hour billionaire suit delivery service—Leila decided to go help him out.

  The objective? To make that frown he was wearing, which was admittedly rather sexy, disappear before they left the apartment.

  “So tell me.” She perched herself up on one of the bar chairs behind him. “Did you mean what you said outside of my apartment? With that whole cocky not-thinking-we-should-take-it-slow thing?”

  Turning to face her, he arched a brow when he saw she’d removed his boxer briefs.

  She crossed her bare legs and smiled, explaining innocently, “I wasn’t sure if you wanted them back right away.”

  He swallowed the distance between them in two quick strides. His gaze fixed on her now parted lips—thanks to the air feeling a little thin, suddenly—as he answered her question with his own rough, raspy question. “Are you saying you want us to go slow? Because I can do slow.”

  Wow. She took a few seconds to drag some much-needed oxygen into her lungs before admitting, “Now I’m doubly glad I took off your boxer briefs.”

  His eyes flared. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

  “Because they’d be drenched right now.”

  His resulting groan sounded heartfelt, and tortured. “Jesus, sunshine. Was it absolutely imperative for you to tell me that five minutes before I need to leave?”

  She was barely hanging on to his rough complaint, his words a dull roar in comparison to all the messages he was conveying with his roaming hands.

  A broken sound escaped her when his thumbs brushed over her nipples, each calloused caress tightening them to taut peaks.

  He let loose a quiet curse. The sizzling, reckless tension crackling in the air intensified, charged by the live wire of lust sparking between them. “Do you know how distracted I’ve been all morning seeing you in one of my T-shirts with no bra on underneath?”

  She gazed at his wild, starved expression. “Show me.”

  The dare was barely past her lips before she felt his teeth close over one now oversensitive nipple through her shirt, while his rough, calloused fingers toyed with the other.

  It wasn’t enough. She wanted to feel him against her skin.

  But when she moved to drag her shirt up off her body he clamped her hands to her sides.

  “Sweetheart, you take that off and neither one of us is leaving this house for the next twenty-four hours.”

  “Promises, promises.”

  He gave her a rough chuckle and smoothed his hands back and forth over her thighs. As if he just couldn’t stop touching her.

  Just then, she gasped as she looked down, her ears burning bright red when she saw the evidence of how wet she was tattooed over his expenses slacks.

  He cursed again quietly. Then fell to his knees before her so he could trail soft, hungry kisses along the seam of her sex.

  The loud, heavy knock hammering on the front door was the only thing that stopped what would’ve happened next.

  Hands still gripping her hips tight, breathing hot and harsh against her skin, Jackson looked nowhere ready to answer the door.

  And apparently, their guest lacked the patience to wait Jackson out, because he knocked again a few seconds later. Then again not even a second after that.

  They both finally dragged their gaze over to the security monitor sitting on the kitchen counter, with a near hi-def image of a bearlike man standing just outside the front door, looking about as menacing as his knock had sounded. “Mike Sanchez from Spencer Security here, sir. I’m your security detail, assigned to you, starting today. Uh…I’m not sure you’re aware, but your two-way hands-free intercom is on.”

  “Oh my God.” Leila jerked upright, positive her cheeks had just caught on fire. “I thought the guys had buzzed into your intercom like normal people. Are you telling me we’ve been broadcasting out into a public hallway?”

  “It’s not public,” reassured Jackson, though he himself looked a little confused. “We each have our own private foyer, and the elevator only opens to our respective floors, similar to penthouse units in hotels. Mike got access because he’s my new full-time bodyguard.”

  “The guys had access this morning,” she reminded him, face heating even more when she realized Bennett might not have been kidding about his being able to hear them from outside.

  “The guys only have access because Bennett has had multiple falling objects hit his hardhat over the years and he’s since developed an utter disregard for his friends’ personal spaces.”

  “Sir?” came the rough voice from the security monitor. “Mike again. Are you saying that you didn’t activate your two-way hands-free? It’s designed to only switch off of manual intercom if the distress code is punched in, which is why I knocked to check in on you. Do you want me to come in to see if your system is malfunctioning?”

  Bennett’s Oz-like voice boomed over the speakers again, but this time in a robotic tone, “I’m sorry, Mr. Grayhurst is unable to come to the door right now, please leave a message after he’s done with his morning quickie. Beep.”

  Jackson groaned. “Please tell me the Spencer boys weren’t foolish enough to give you remote access to my intercom.”

  “You know how Gabe loves those phone apps,” answered Bennett cheerfully. “And foolish is such a negative word; I mu
ch prefer ‘trust ambassadors,’ especially when it comes to friends.”

  Despite her cheek-flaming embarrassment, Leila giggled over the flagrant exasperation on Jackson’s face.

  “Aren’t you late for a meeting with a building inspector?” gritted Jackson through his teeth.

  “Guess I wore her out more than I thought last night,” came the audibly smiling reply. “Did I mention she’s a former gymnast?” Bennett released a low, satisfied whistle into the phone. “Her office called to reschedule a little while ago. And since my morning freed up, I magnanimously offered Donovan a ride to work since Sienna’s tuning up his Audi today.”

  “An offer that I emphatically turned down,” called out a gruff, wholly irked voice. The quality of their speakerphone was rather excellent. She could practically see Donovan glaring at Bennett through the phone line.

  She saw Jackson’s mouth twitch to one side in silent amusement.

  All the better to hear Donovan’s irritation reach new heights, apparently. “Of course Bennett took that as an invitation to follow me here to the shop.”

  “Anything for you, buddy,” replied Bennett, without missing a beat.

  Leila was in stitches.

  “Anyway, Donovan and I were just about to leave Sienna’s shop now when I had the brilliant idea to code into your intercom so Sienna could say hi to Leila. She’s dying to meet her, as is most of Cactus Creek, of course. You two were apparently the talk of the town square tai chi class this morning, plus the main topic during the fast and furious farmer’s market coupon exchange—and we all know how stiff the competition is to get on those old biddies’ gossip radars.”

  Leila felt like she’d been transported to a different, far less sane solar system.

  Best, nuttiest orbit ever.

  Donovan’s gravelly voice rumbled over the speakerphone, with what sounded like highly entertained female laughter and a symphony of clangs, whirs, and engine sputters in the background. “In case you two crazy kids continued where you left off when we interrupted you this morning, no worries, we didn’t hear anything. I stopped Bennett before he managed to Bluetooth your intercom feed to my car’s sound system.”

  “You guys know that old football injury from high school makes it hard to hear out of one ear sometimes,” defended Bennett, tone innocuous as can be. “It’s not like I was trying to hear those sexy little whimper-sighs Leila did this morning in Dolby-rich surround sound or anything.”

  “If anyone’s going to defile my virgin speakers, it’s not going to be a woman going down on my best friend. Just saying,” commented Donovan, sounding perfectly serious. “Besides”—his voice took on a very audible smile—“I think I’d prefer the live show where Leila’s concerned.”

  Jackson looked ready to strangle someone.

  Meanwhile, Leila was pretty sure her cheeks were never going to return to a normal skin color again.

  “Jackson, do us all a favor and take Bennett’s new toy away from him. Read the instructions the guys sent over and disable the damn open-intercom-during-distress feature.”

  “I never got any instructions for deactivating, let alone a code to activate the damn thing to begin with,” Jackson replied, his aggravation over revelation teeth-grindingly enunciated.

  Leila was back to finding the situation more amusing than mortifying. Geez, with friends like that…

  Suddenly, a loud static-charged crackle and zap sounded over the intercom.

  And then silence.

  “Mike, you still there?” called out Jackson.

  “Only for another second, sir. I was just about to reset your intercom.”

  Jackson grinned. “Did you just hack into the security system and boot my friends out?”

  “Yes, sir. Spencer Security trains all of us to do some level of hacking, even into their own security systems.”

  “Good man. Remind me to add an extra week of paid vacation to your hiring package.” He paused, and then added, “I’ll add an extra week on top of that if you show me how to mess with the security in Bennett’s apartment just a little.”

  “You’ll just need to define ‘little’ for me later, but consider it done, sir.”

  While Leila couldn’t be certain from this distance, she was pretty sure that was an amused smile peeking through on Mike’s gruff face before he moved off camera.

  “I’m kind of in love with your friends,” she announced, chuckling when Jackson turned and looked at her like she was crazy. With their hot and dirty moment now long past, and Jackson in serious need of a wardrobe change, she pointed at the clock and walked over to her folded pantsuit beside her purse, all the while continuing her assessment of the guys. “You three are as close as brothers. You could do worse than to have two brothers who care too much.”

  Like having a family who cares not at all.

  She tried not to let the thought depress her as she slipped on the smart navy slacks she had on yesterday and draped Jackson’s giant shirt over it with an all-the-rage ’80s shirt knot at her hip.

  “I wasn’t objecting to those guys showing me brotherly affection,” called out Jackson a minute later when he returned down the steps, half-dressed in a new suit.

  Watching him get dressed was now one of her favorite things, she decided, mentally humming along to Julie Andrews.

  Sighing a bit when the show ended, she headed over to give him a goodbye kiss.

  He welcomed it, kissing her while walking her backward to her purse. When he finally let her up for air, he unfolded her suit jacket and slipped it over her shoulders.

  She leaned back, tilting her head in question.

  “No bra. You could tempt a saint, and lord knows no one I’m acquainted with could be considered for sainthood.”

  Silver-tongued fella.

  Speaking of that tongue of his.

  She peered down at the white shirt, noting the near transparent damp fabric showcasing her still-aroused nipples. Cheeks heating both in embarrassment and memory, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Your fault.”

  “Damn straight.”

  An achy, heady lust streaked through her veins again as he pulled her in for another kiss.

  “So, my place or yours for dinner?” he whispered against her lips. “Because I intend to keep being at fault tonight as well.”

  That’s when it hit her. They probably wouldn’t be able to hang out at her place for a while. At least not until all the media hype died down.

  He nodded as if hearing her thoughts. “We’ll come back here again; it’ll give us a chance to christen all the rooms. I’ll have Mike pick you up from the station this evening to make sure you’re not harassed in transit.”

  “You don’t have to have him do that. He’s your security detail.”

  “Yes, he is. And there’s nothing more important to me than you.”

  Her knees went a little mushy over that.

  “Don’t worry, the Spencer boys will send over someone else to guard me in his place.”

  “Okay, fine, I’ll agree to the security detail, if you let me cook tonight.”

  “Babe, you don’t have to do that. You’re going to be so tired after work.”

  “I want to cook tonight. Frankly, I don’t think I’m going to be able to sit across from you in a restaurant without wanting to hop up on the table and continue where we left off just now.”

  “Good grief, woman.” He gave her a pained look. “Now I’m going to be fighting a hard-on from hell all day long.”

  She grinned. “You’re welcome. I’d contemplated sending flowers, but I thought dirty talk would be a more personal, lasting gift for your first day.”

  He burst out laughing and drew her in for another kiss. “You drive a tough, dirty bargain. And I accept. Dinner at home it is; I’m looking forward to it. But can I make one request?”

  “Sure. What do you want to eat?”

  A blistering hot spark of lust lit his eyes. And then simmered for a few long minutes. “You,” he answered finall
y. “But that’s not a request so much as a given.”

  His low, deep, matter-of-fact voice was wholly irreverent, and deliciously male.

  This time her knees did buckle.

  “What I was going to ask,” he murmured, placing a soft kiss on her neck, right over her racing pulse, “was that you wear the same color panties that you were wearing earlier. I want my visual to be as accurate as possible when I’m fantasizing about ripping them off with my teeth all day today.”

  When her lips fell open on a gasp, and then stayed parted in an effort to draw in some much-needed oxygen, his eyes tracked her every movement.

  She didn’t know why it was so unbelievably sexy to have him stare at her lips like that, but it was starting to make her wet and dizzy all over again.

  “You’re right,” he whisper-growled into her ear. “That is much better than flowers.”

  —

  Later that evening, Jackson was surprised to find Mike back on his security detail after being assigned to Leila all day.

  He’d heard all about how the media had been swarmed around her apartment and how the tough, tatted ex-military security guard had accompanied her on a covert shopping trip so she’d have clothes for the next few days, and groceries for whatever it was she was making for dinner tonight.

  That was definitely not in Mike’s job description, and according to Leila, he’d been a saint about the whole thing.

  Jackson climbed into the passenger side of the bulletproof SUV and told Mike flat out, “Just so you know, I’ve already authorized you to get that extra week of vacation I mentioned. You could’ve just headed home after you secured Leila back at my apartment; trust me, I’m already impressed with your work.”

  “Didn’t do it for that, sir.”

  “No?” In Jackson’s circles, that was a pretty foreign concept.

  “I did it for Ms. Hart. She’s put a lot of thought and planning into your date tonight. That’s quite a woman you have there, sir.”

  That she was. And Mike was turning out to be one hell of a bodyguard. “I thought we talked about you calling me ‘sir.’ Call me Jackson.”

  “All due respect,” apologized Mike with a shrug, “I can’t call a man by his first name this soon after accompanying his woman into a lingerie shop. I’ll call you Jackson tomorrow, sir.”