Jackson put on her best business face and smiled. “Early calls, meeting tomorrow with the board. As you know.”
She found her way to his ridiculously stylish dining room table and picked up her bag, but by the time she reached the elevator door, Cameron was standing in front of it.
“What’s going on, Jackson?” he asked.
“Absolutely nothing is going on, Cameron,” she said smoothly, forcing another smile. “Isn’t that the point of this?”
She stared at him, challenging him to disagree. He didn’t. His deep blue eyes were guarded, wary as he looked down at her. The elevator door opened.
“Excuse me,” she said, motioning to the door.
He stepped aside and she walked in. The doors closed, and she shoved her hand into her bag, searching for her glasses. It was only when she reached the street that Jackson realized she had no idea how to get back to her hotel room.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CAMERON BLACKMORE YANKED open the door to his office building. More accurately, his father’s office building. It was one of many assets that Cameron had added to the Blackmore Inc. empire, all ultimately controlled by his father.
Cameron was a thorn in his father’s side that would never go away. If he had been a little older, a little more experienced when his grandfather died, Harlan Senior would have bypassed Cameron’s father altogether and named him chairman of the board. Cameron knew it. His father knew it. The board knew it.
But what Harlan Junior couldn’t understand was that Cameron had no desire to take over his job. He’d much rather be in the Sydney office with his team than in a boardroom in New York. Which meant he never had to see another airplane in his life. Let one of his half brothers take on that role and leave Cameron as the master of his own domain.
Harlan Blackmore was good at bullshit like country clubs and photo ops—much better at schmoozing than he was at the actual business of running a company. But no matter what his father threw his way, Cameron wouldn’t walk away from his grandfather’s legacy. His father had used Cameron’s strong sense of loyalty to keep him in line in the aftermath of his parents’ awful divorce. And now he was counting on this same sense of loyalty to Harlan Senior to keep Cameron from rebelling against the board outright.
Which was the reason Cameron was in this current mess in the first place.
Though there was no way to blame last night’s mess on his father. That fell squarely on his own shoulders. He had replayed the scene at least a hundred times since the elevator doors closed behind her, and he still couldn’t shake the hurt on Jackson’s face.
Telling her she was hot was about the stupidest thing he had done in a while, and considering the last two days of stupid moves, that was saying something. He had thrown it out to cover up what almost came out of his mouth as he looked down at Jackson, still buried deep inside of her. He’d almost told her that he wanted to do this every day for the rest of his life. That this was what he had been missing. And that would have taken this messed-up situation to a new level of messed-up-ness.
Cameron walked into the elevator and punched the button for the top floor. He gritted his teeth. His entire business depended on his ability to plan, to foresee all potential problems, to make everything run smoothly, but nothing about the last two days had gone right. And he had only a couple hours to come up with a new plan to dig himself out of the latest hole he’d made.
Then Jackson McAllister would show up at the office again.
“Good morning, Mr. Blackmore,” Chloe chirped as he walked through the glass doors. “Mr. Latu, Mr. Jensen and Mr. Rodriguez are waiting for you in the large conference room.”
Right. First he had to get through this meeting. These guys knew him better than anyone else in the world. One of them was going to figure out how badly he had screwed up soon. Judging from the night before at dinner, Cameron had his money on Derek. But that wasn’t going to happen today. Soon this meeting would be over and he’d have time to do a little thinking in the weight room before he had to face Jackson again.
And figure out how not to botch this situation further.
He grabbed the handle to the conference room door and took a deep breath. Game time. He swung it open.
Derek, Max and Simon sat around one end of the long table. Max was in the middle of a story, and the other two sat back in the black leather chairs, watching.
“After we’re done I say—” Max turned toward him and smiled. “Cam, just in time.”
Derek punched Max on the shoulder. “No way that story ends with ‘Cam, just in time.’”
Simon and Max chuckled.
“I’ll finish it later,” said Max. “Where’s your babysitter, mate?”
Cameron sat down in one of the chairs and let out a long breath. “She’s got a video conference with the board. She’ll be here in a couple of hours.”
They all watched him silently, no doubt waiting for more details. Cameron didn’t say a word.
Finally Derek broke the silence. “I’m just going to lay it all out for us. We need a new plan. I’m not feeling the idea of undermining Jackson McAllister’s reputation. Plus, I’m pretty sure we’d come off as sexist.”
Max leaned back in his chair and smiled. “How’s this for a new plan? One of us takes her out and gets caught with her in some sort of compromising situation. I doubt the board sends anyone here after that. And she’s gorgeous, so I’ll volunteer myself for the job. A woman like that’s all business on the outside, but when you get her—”
“No!” barked Cameron. He heaved in a calming breath, but the damage was done. Already he was picturing Max and Jackson together. Jackson moaning and calling out Max’s name instead of his. Cameron ground his teeth together hard.
No. Just no.
Cameron unclenched his fists. “No one messes with her,” he bit out. “Don’t bring it up again. Our plan isn’t going to work.”
Max rolled his eyes. “Okay, boss.”
Derek crossed his arms and sighed. “Hate to mention this, Cam, but how about just finding a way through that flying problem of yours and taking it up with your father and the board in person?”
Cameron shook his head. “Not an option.”
They had been over this before. The doctors had called it PTSD, but who the hell would be crazy enough to get on a plane after a crash like his unit had been through?
Derek threw up his hands. “Help me out here, Simon. You talk to him.”
Simon shook his head. “Not helping on this one, Derek. Staying away from airplanes is Cameron’s thing. Other guys in our unit came home with much more fucked up ways of dealing with it. If he says no, I’m letting it be.”
Cameron shot Simon a nod of thanks. They’d been through hell together, and Cam knew his friend had his own reasons for not returning to the States—airplanes had nothing to do with it. “We’re just going to get through this. We let her babysit for two weeks, and then it’s done.”
Max raised an eyebrow, but Cameron ignored him.
“We’re moving on,” he said. “Ms. McAllister had a bunch of photos that looked like all of us cozying up with clients. Most were on the job, but a few weren’t. The press doesn’t always get it right. Sometimes they catch us during off hours, but we need to watch that. Not just while she’s here. In the future, too.”
He looked at Simon and Max. They nodded.
“But there was one photo you all need to see.” Cameron pulled the sheet from his briefcase and set it on the table.
Derek grabbed it. “What the fuck?” he said.
“I know,” said Cameron. “Take it easy.”
Max leaned over to get a look at the paper crushed in Derek’s hand. “Is that Laurie?”
“It is,” said Cameron. “I checked out the address on the top of the papers. It comes from a social media account, last name Toleafoa. Samoan, right, D
erek?”
Derek’s jaw clenched tightly, and his lips formed a tight snarl. He gave a curt nod.
“It’s Derek’s name on the caption, not Laurie’s. Scrolling through this guy’s other posts, I’m pretty sure his only interest in Laurie is that she’s with Derek, not the other way around.”
Derek closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “I won’t let her go through that again,” he said softly.
“None of us will, Derek,” said Simon, clapping his friend on the shoulder.
Cameron nodded. “Right. And you know I wouldn’t play down the risk if I thought there was one.”
Derek opened his eyes and met Cameron’s. The hard look softened a little. “Okay. But I still think this is messed up. Even if this guy didn’t recognize Laurie, someone else could.”
“Exactly,” said Cameron. “This is why I brought the photo this morning. My father and his board sent Ms. McAllister here to adjust our image, but here is the real reason we need to take this PR thing seriously.” He gestured to the photo. “More media interest in what we do, including on our off hours, means more photos like this. Or worse. And we can’t have that. Our clients require absolute discretion for their safety.”
For once, Max looked serious. He glanced at Derek and then turned back to Cameron. “You’re right,” he said quietly.
Simon nodded. “And not just this week.”
“Right,” said Cameron.
He leaned back in his chair and let the others digest the information. Derek picked up the photo again and studied it. He looked at Cameron.
“Do I want to take this home and look it up?”
Cameron frowned. “I’m pretty sure you don’t.”
Derek nodded. “I thought so.”
“One of us will watch it for you,” said Simon.
Derek took one last look at the photo and passed it back to Cameron. “Okay. Let’s move on.”
* * *
Jackson spent the morning in her hotel room, on a video conference call with the board. Then she set to rereading Blackmore Inc.’s annual report. She had read it on the plane ride over, but now that she had met Cameron Blackmore, her original plans weren’t going to work.
She had assumed he was just another self-centered asshole with an overinflated sense of entitlement. She hadn’t necessarily revised the self-centered asshole part, but he was a lot more serious about his business than she had expected. Ignoring the board’s push for a more prestigious image felt like a screw you to Harlan Blackmore rather than a lack of self-control among the men. In fact, the more she studied the company’s information, the more she was convinced of just how careful and calculating Cameron was.
Which made her all the angrier about his comment the night before. He must have sensed her momentary lapse in judgment when he rested over her, still inside of her. The whole encounter had been beyond amazing, but when he looked down at her with what had looked like awe, she had almost taken his face in both her hands and told him exactly what she was thinking. That he wasn’t at all what she’d expected. That he made her feel better than anyone ever had.
Thank God she hadn’t. She had completely misread him. Of course. A careful and calculating man known for his appearances with some high-profile women knew how to cultivate that feeling of intimacy they’d shared. She didn’t assume the media had all the facts straight about his affairs, but she also didn’t doubt for a second that Cameron Blackmore had his fair share of lovers. He clearly knew what women wanted. But that didn’t make any of it real. His comment last night was a message: game over. And she got that message loud and clear. The fact that it hurt told her that she should never repeat a night like that with him, even if they weren’t in danger of getting caught.
Cameron hadn’t misled her. He had been perfectly clear the first night in the hotel. He was giving her exactly what he promised: orgasms with his big, hard cock. And yes, he definitely knew how to use it.
She was the one who couldn’t just let it be.
She needed to refocus. She was supposed to be revising the PR plan. Most of the tactics she had proposed still worked, but the media coverage ideas were off.
Her phone rang, and her assistant’s name popped up on the screen.
“Kyle,” she said. “How’s the northern half of the world today?”
“Cold. And busy.” His voice was as chipper as ever.
Jackson glanced at her laptop clock, still set to New York time. It was 6:30 p.m.—yesterday?—and the man sounded like he was just starting his day. Probably the type that only needed six hours of sleep at night. Which was good for her, since he had taken on a chunk of her clients while she was in Sydney.
“What do you have for me?” she asked.
“I’m sending over the finals that art just passed on for three December campaigns. I just wanted to run them by you before I okayed them.”
She clicked on the images in Kyle’s email, and scanned them. “Nice. The second one should probably be a shade or two lighter so that everything still shows up on a smaller scale, but otherwise they’re good to go.”
“Right, lighter,” said Kyle. “I should have seen that.”
Jackson laughed. “Don’t sweat it. You’re the best assistant I’ve ever had. Give it a little more time and you’ll be taking over my job.”
“And be assigned to hot Australian clients?” Kyle was definitely smirking now. “That alone is reason enough to work for it. Is he as good-looking in person as he is on paper?”
Thank God this wasn’t a video conference because Jackson’s face had to be beet red by now.
“He’s technically American,” she managed to mutter.
“Is that a yes?” Kyle laughed. “I’d take him anyway, though I suspect I’m not his type. But you never know.”
Jackson knew exactly what type Cameron was. She flashed to the night before, his naked, muscular torso over her as he came. Shit. She cleared her throat. “I’ve got to go. Send me the revision of the second file when you get it.”
She hung up the phone. Focus on the job, girl.
Jackson scanned the company’s financial statements. Some of the clients were clear, but others were masked by blandly named corporations. Nothing she could use.
She sighed and looked through the document again. The easiest media coverage to get would be to make a public appearance with a charitable organization, but Blackmore Inc. in Australia didn’t seem to give exceptional sums to any one place. Maybe she could convince Cameron to. He could give enough to be newsworthy, she’d send out a press release and they could all deliver the check in person in the next day or two. Perfect.
Jackson closed her laptop and headed for the Blackmore Inc. building.
Twenty minutes later, she stepped out of the elevator into the bright penthouse office.
“Good afternoon, Ms. McAllister,” said the receptionist. Chloe, Jackson remembered. She was young and blonde with long, manicured nails and... Jackson frowned. Did Cameron sleep with his receptionist?
“I’m meeting Mr. Blackmore,” said Jackson.
The younger woman nodded. “He and Mr. Latu just headed down to the fifth-floor gym. He said you could set up in the conference room while you wait.”
“While I wait?” Jackson echoed.
“They’re usually gone for an hour or so.”
Jackson huffed out a breath. Wait for Cameron to lift weights and hang out with his friends? Nope.
“Did he take his phone?” she asked.
Chloe shook her head. “He doesn’t usually, but you’re welcome to try him.”
Jackson grimaced and looked at the clock. Okay, so maybe she should have checked in with Cameron this morning if she wanted him to be available. But the thought of calling him? She pinched the bridge of her nose. Concentrate.
She needed to get her plan under way: get Cameron to agree to
the idea, choose an appropriate charity, arrange for an opportunity to meet the head of the organization and then spread the press release. And she was already getting a late start.
“You said he just went down?” she asked.
“Yes,” Chloe said. “I suppose you could catch him coming out of the changing room, but he might be... Never mind.”
“I’ll find him,” said Jackson as she turned back toward the elevators.
The doors opened onto the fifth floor, and Jackson stepped out into a spa-like atrium, with white walls and pictures of water and sand. The hallway in both directions was wide and empty, and the reception desk was unmanned. How did she find her way to the workout room? Listen for sounds of male grunting? She started down the bright hallway, passing doors with unhelpful labels like Room 1 and Room 2. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
A door clicked farther down, and low male voices sounded through the hallway. Jackson looked up in time to see a glimpse of ripped ab muscles and a jagged scar before they were covered in a T-shirt. She didn’t even have to look up to see who they belonged to. Heat flooded through her, cutting off all rational thought.
“... Afraid I’ve fucked it all up—” Cameron stopped midsentence as his head came through the neck of his shirt.
“You still have time to fix it—” Derek Latu followed Cameron through the door and came to a stop. He looked at Jackson, at Cameron and back at Jackson again. “Ms. McAllister. This is...unexpected.” Derek’s face betrayed only mild surprise, but Jackson could tell he was taking her in with new eyes.
“I’ll catch you later, bro,” he said and headed down the hall.
Jackson waited for the sound of the door closing behind Derek before she let out her breath. “Were you ladies gossiping about your exploits?” she hissed.
Cameron blinked. “No,” he said flatly.
“You didn’t tell him about...” She waved her hand between them, searching for a good ending to this sentence. Nothing came.
Cameron gave a bark of laughter. “Hell, no.”
“Then why was he looking at me like that?”
Best Laid Plans Page 7