He pushed those thoughts aside.
If he’d learned anything in the military, it was just how much better things went with a clear plan. And judging from the start of his morning, he was in no state to come up with a good one. But in this pissy mood, any plan was better than none. As the boat passed under the Harbour Bridge, he sent an email to his team. Tonight at dinner they’d figure out Jackson McAllister’s weak spots. Tomorrow they’d figure out how to use them.
But planning didn’t help. When he walked through the glass doors into the Blackmore Inc. office, his mood was just as dark.
“Good morning, Mr. Blackmore.”
He bit out a greeting to Chloe, the receptionist, and headed for his office.
“Mr. Blackmore,” she called after him. “Jackson McAllister is waiting for you in the small conference room.”
He grunted but didn’t turn around. What the hell? The guy wasn’t supposed to be there for another thirty minutes. Cameron changed direction and headed straight for the conference room. He was going to have to tell that fuckwit to come back later.
He burst through the door and came to a full stop. In one of the chairs he saw a woman, not a man. The rear of a woman, to be specific, turned away, bending over a mess of papers on the floor. What the—
“Sorry. Just a moment,” came a voice from under the round table.
A voice that awakened his entire body. He gave himself a little shake. What the fuck was going on?
“I got the time mixed up...” The woman rose with a pile of papers and turned. And froze.
“Oh,” she whispered. “Damn.”
It was her. The hot-as-hell woman. His body had known the moment she spoke, and now his mind finally registered it. Her lips were pale, not red, and she was wearing glasses, but this only added to her appeal. She had her long, silky hair up in a bun. He already knew the feeling of a fistful of that hair, and he had gotten himself off to what those lips would look like around his—
“What are you doing here?” he barked.
The words came out as more of an accusation than a question. Lust must have short-circuited his brain because he still couldn’t figure out how the hell this woman had ended up at his office building.
But as he glared across the room at her, all the wonder disappeared from her expression. She took off her glasses and blinked at him a couple times before putting them back on. She narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together into a tight smile. She stood up and stuck out her hand for a handshake.
“Jackson McAllister,” she said. “The board warned me about your growling.”
Cameron screwed his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead. He opened his eyes again, but nothing changed. The same woman was still glaring at him.
“What the hell?” he whispered. “You’re not a man.”
Jackson dropped her hand and raised her eyebrows. “I think you and I already established that last night, Mr. Blackmore,” she said drily. “And you’re supposed to have a beard.”
So... She was Jackson McAllister. The person the board had sent to rein in him and his team. Or try to. And he had already given her an eye-opening welcome. Cameron rubbed his temples.
“But Jackson’s a man’s name,” he muttered to himself.
She shook her head slowly. “Why do I feel like I’m back in elementary school?”
“I’m long past elementary school, Ms. McAllister,” he snapped. “I think we established that last night, too.”
Her face betrayed no emotion, but a deep flush crept up her neck. Which brought him right back to the place his mind absolutely should not go now. The last time those cheeks reddened like that was—
Shit. What was he supposed to do now? Pull out a chair for her all gentleman-like? Ignore the fact that he had just had mind-bending sex with her less than twelve hours ago? He huffed out a breath and sank into his own chair at the table.
He crossed his arms and leaned back, scrambling to get a handle on the situation. Wait. He’d had no idea who she was last night, but had she known who he was? Was this part of some larger scheme to “tame” him? He nearly snarled at the thought. It sure as hell hadn’t felt that way. And when he walked into the conference room, she’d looked just as confused as he had felt. But he couldn’t rule it out.
“You had to know it was me last night,” he said slowly. “Didn’t the board give you photos or something?”
Jackson rolled her eyes. “I didn’t spend hours gazing at your profile, if that’s what you mean. You had a beard in most of them, and last night I took my contacts out because my eyes were killing me.”
Well, those glasses gave her an innocent-but-naughty look that would turn him on right here if he kept thinking about it. Fighting for calm, he said, “Screw it. Let’s do this.”
Her eyes snapped up to meet his, and another blush washed over her cheeks. Wait—did he just catch her staring at his biceps? She sat down quickly in her chair and smoothed her skirt over her legs. She grabbed the files she had just collected from the floor and cleared her throat.
“I’m here to give you a boost of intensive public relations support,” she said. “I’ll be looking at every detail of your day and coming up with a plan for improvement.”
“Any suggestions so far?” The comment slipped out before he could think better of it. And fuck if she didn’t lick her lips before she could think better of it.
But the glossy look in her eyes quickly switched back to a glare. “The board wants a detailed report,” she said sharply. “And there I’ll make suggestions for the future.”
All his retorts faded. He hadn’t missed the board’s veiled threat. If Cameron didn’t run his company the Harlan Blackmore way, someone else would. But he hadn’t missed Jackson’s threat, either. And the glare she still fixed on him said the same thing: Don’t mess with me.
Cameron ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “How the hell do you propose we make this work, Jackson?”
She let out a little sigh. Her eyes softened, and she pushed her glasses up her nose. For a moment, she looked just as mixed up about the situation as he was. But when she spoke again, her voice was steady and all business.
“We just forget about last night and do our jobs,” she said. “I’m over it. You’re a big boy. You can get past it, too, can’t you?”
She knew just how much of a big boy he was, but now wasn’t the time to point this out.
“I think I can manage that,” he said drily. “Let’s get to work.”
She opened a file and pushed it toward him. He picked up the printouts of newspaper articles and photos one by one. He had seen most of them before. They featured various members of his team with different women from different jobs. Most of them weren’t remarkable. He could see her point, too—he did have a beard in most of them.
“These are clients,” he said.
She picked up one of Max and a high-profile actress. He was whispering something in her ear, and if the sultry smile on her face was any indication, she was ready for him to do a lot more.
“He looks more like a male escort than a bodyguard,” she said.
Cameron took the photo back. “What can I say? He’s good at his job.”
He continued through the pile. He found a photo of himself coming out of a pub with two women, one on each side. He was talking to one, and the other was holding on to his bicep, her mouth next to his ear.
His gaze flicked up to meet hers. “That’s not what it looks like.”
“Let me guess,” she said sweetly. “You’re good at your job, too?”
He rested his gaze on her. “I am good at my job.” He added softly, “And aside from that, I prefer to enjoy women one at a time.”
She didn’t answer, but she lost some of the hardness in her expression. What was going on in her mind right now? Did she like more than one man at a time? T
he idea boiled in him. Hell, no. But that was the last thing he should be getting upset about right now. Nothing was going to happen between them again. Not a bloody thing.
He leafed through the rest of the photos and articles until he came to one that made him stop. It was a single photo with no words. There was no other indication of where it came from except for a long web address at the top of the page.
“Where did you find this?” he snapped.
Jackson took the paper from his hand and studied it. “I’m not sure about this one. We ran a search on the company’s name and all your team members’ names and printed out everything we came across from this last year. Why are you asking?”
“That’s not a client. That’s Derek Latu with his wife, Laurie.”
“He’s married?” she asked, as if this were the last thing she expected to hear.
“Very happily. Surprised?” Cameron gave her a pointed look. “I told you this shit doesn’t tell the whole story.” He gestured to the photo. “Yes, he has a wife, but she stays far away from any press. She’s had some stalker issues in the past.”
“Oh.” Jackson looked at the web address again. “It doesn’t come from anywhere I recognize.”
“That’s what worries me.” He looked at the photo once more and set it aside on the table. “Can I keep this? I want to show it to Derek.”
Jackson nodded and gathered together the rest of the clippings.
“Whether these photos represent jobs or—” she waved her hand around as if she were searching for the right words “—or other encounters is beside the point from a PR perspective. This is going to become the Blackmore Inc. image if you don’t make some changes.”
“Says my father,” finished Cameron with more than a little bitterness.
He thought she’d deny it, but she didn’t. Instead, Jackson gave him a look that was almost sympathetic. “Yes. But it’s important for the company, too. Especially if you’re saying we’re not seeing the whole story.”
“Even though the Australian division of Blackmore Inc. is doing better now than it was when my father ran the show?”
“Yep. Probably even because of it.”
Cameron sighed. Well, at least they were on the same page in that regard.
“All right,” he grumbled. “What’s next?”
Jackson flipped through her file to the first pages, biting her lip. Cameron couldn’t keep his eyes off those plump, soft lips that had promised him so much pleasure the night before. What would it feel like if she—
“I just want to make sure I have all the basics,” she said, looking up at him. Her eyes rounded.
Shit. Were his thoughts so transparent?
Jackson’s eyes skittered away and she cleared her throat. “You and three other men make up your main team for on-the-ground security. Max Jensen comes from a prominent ranching family in Australia, and you two were roommates at Princeton. He’s the one with his photo on the front page of the papers.”
Cameron scowled. “He’s also the one who brought both clients and credibility into the Australian market when I took over. His family’s name goes a long way down here.”
She nodded and jotted a few notes before looking back up. “After you both graduated, he returned to Australia and played rugby, where he met Derek Latu. You enlisted in the army.”
Cameron gave a dry laugh. “Much to my father’s dismay.”
“But not your grandfather’s, I’m assuming,” she said. “Following his path, the way he built this company.”
Very good, Jackson McAllister. He crossed his arms and waited.
“You and Simon Rodriguez were in the same unit,” she continued, “and when you both returned, you hired him.”
Cameron nodded.
Jackson flipped the page and scanned it. “Not long after, your grandfather put you in charge of Australia and moved your father back to New York.” She raised her gaze to his. “I’d imagine your father wouldn’t have taken that very well.”
Cameron didn’t answer. This woman was good. She had done her background work and read between the lines. But even as sympathetic as she had sounded, he couldn’t forget for a minute she was working for the board. Not for him.
Jackson looked back down at the pages in her file. “You and Simon Rodriguez came to Sydney, brought Max Jensen and Derek Latu on board, and the four of you started to rethink the company’s strategy.”
“That’s about it,” he said.
Jackson looked at him for an extra beat, her green eyes searching his. Then she stuffed her files into her bag. “Let’s take a quick tour around the office so I can get a feel for what goes on here. Then we’ll look at your schedule. I want to spend the first couple of days getting an idea of what you’re doing now.”
“Fine,” he said, grabbing his briefcase.
Cameron stood up and took a deep breath. He’d just had a conversation with her and hadn’t once thought about sex. Well, not for the last part of the conversation, anyway. Progress. He could do this.
She gathered her things, and he gestured to let her go first out of the conference room. Big mistake. Because now he was right behind her with a clear view of that nice round rear he had so appreciated last night. Her skirt was longer today, but it had a slit up the back that got him wondering. How high would it slide up her legs? She was wearing silky stockings. Were they the kind that went all the way up, or did they stop somewhere out of sight and leave the tops of her delicious thighs bare?
Shit. He turned his head and looked down the hall at anything he could find—the plants, the sprinkler system, the lights—anything but the spectacular view of Jackson calling his name.
She turned around. “Which way?”
“I’ll lead,” he growled. He turned down the hall and headed for the elevators. Say something, you fuckwit. Cameron mentally shook himself. “It’s just the four of us principals, a couple of admins and some meeting rooms on this floor. The other three guys aren’t in the office right now. We’ll need to go downstairs for the rest of the company.”
He pushed the elevator call button.
“The floor below us is where most of the logistics people sit as well as the teams under each of us four,” he said. “Clients want all sorts of security these days, and since I took over the Sydney business, we’ve broadened according to what the companies here need.”
The elevator doors opened, and they stepped in. Just keep talking.
“Derek and Max both head up on-the-ground security teams, and Simon is developing our surveillance branch. A lot of the work we do can be carried out in the office, but we work as a team when jobs require more specialized security. That’s just for the very high-end clients, and the four of us are on-site for those jobs. Those are the ones that you see in the photos.”
Cameron cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets. The doors opened.
“We’re two floors down now, in our IT department,” he said. “With the kind of security we do, we can’t outsource anything.”
He led her around, introducing her to employees at all levels. He knew everyone in the company. He had to if he was going to entrust so many people’s safety to them.
Jackson smiled and shook everyone’s hands, remembering names and asking questions. He had to admit she was really good. But as they made their way through accounting, her eyes began to droop. She must be tired.
“You want to take a break?” he asked.
Jackson took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “I think I’ve seen enough to get us started. Let’s head back upstairs.”
He led the way back to the elevators. On the ride up, she looked more and more tired by the minute. They finally came to the door of his office, and he opened it for her.
“Oh, my God,” she said breathlessly, walking up to the tall glass windows. “That’s the Harbour Bridge.”
/> He started toward her, ready to point out the Opera House, but he froze as his mind kicked back into gear. He was not going to stand next to her and breathe in the warm scent of her hair. They needed to get back to business. “Yes,” he grunted, trying not to look in her direction.
He hauled an extra chair over to the opposite side of his desk, then sank into his. She sat down, too, and he pulled up his schedule for the day before swiveling his monitor toward her.
“No meetings this morning?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Moved them all. I wasn’t sure what you’d have in mind.”
She bent over to look closer at his computer screen, giving him a flash down her button-up shirt. Luscious, round breasts strained against a lacy pink bra. Luscious, round breasts that he spent far too little time on last night. That he would never play with again. He forced his gaze back to the computer screen.
“What’s this?” she asked, pointing to the lunch hour block.
“I work out at our gym every day. It’s a few floors down from here. Below IT.”
“Oh.”
“You gonna observe me there, too?” he asked, fighting a grin.
She caught her lip between her teeth. “I’d check out everything with any other client.”
“You’re welcome to watch.” Cameron gave her a lazy smile and added, “If the board insists.”
A touch of pink stained her cheeks. “Maybe another day.”
“Suit yourself,” he said smoothly. “I’ll probably be on the phone most of the afternoon checking in with clients. And then we’ll meet the rest of the team for dinner tonight.”
“They don’t come into the office every day?”
“Most days I’m here, and they come in when they’re not on security jobs.” Thankfully, as CEO, Cameron had a good excuse not to travel—neglecting the daily operations was how his father got the Sydney office into trouble in the first place. The prominent clients in Sydney kept business booming, and his teammates could handle operations farther afield, if they came up. His aversion to flying wasn’t exactly good for the business, long-term, but he’d figure that out at some point. “Today the guys are looking at one of the local venues where we’re providing security for a high-profile client, a politician. You’ll hear the details in this week’s meeting.”
Best Laid Plans Page 3