3. Jackson

Showtime.

I'd planned everything, right down to the last detail. I wasn't going to let a single part of this slip through my fingers, she wasn't going to get away that easily.

I needed to see her, and I needed her alone.

The streets were quiet as I pulled my car into the parking lot. Twenty minutes late, exactly as planned. Mandy and Harry should already be inside. Sliding my phone from my suit jacket, I dialed Angela, the sound of her voice seeping through my car speakers after almost going to voicemail.

"What."

"Are they all set up in the meeting room?" I asked as I double-checked the contents of my briefcase. All in order.

"Yes, obviously."

"Can you grab Mandy and bring her to my office, please?"

"Jesus, Jackson," Angela huffed. "This is insane. You know that right?"

"I'll give you a bonus this month," I offered, disconnecting the Bluetooth from my car and shoving my phone between my shoulder and my ear. "Tell her I need to speak to her alone first. I'll be upstairs in a few."

"Fine."

I hung up the phone as I stepped through the cheap sliding doors of the building. Boulder didn't allow for high-rises, so our hired office was on the fourth floor. The bottom floor, though, had a cafe.

And I was going to make use of it.

————

"Good morning, Angela," I grinned as I plopped a hazelnut latte onto the front of her desk. "You will, of course, still receive a bonus. Consider this an extra thank you."

Angela wrapped her fingers around its warmth, her lips curled back in a sneer. "This smells like hazelnut. I don't like hazelnut."

"You did last month."

"I changed my mind. I like vanilla bean, now."

I narrowed my eyes at her before rolling them as dramatically as I could. "You just love being difficult, don't you?"

"Not as much as you do."

So lucky you still have a job. "Is Mandy in my office as I requested?" I asked, bracing myself with my hand on her desk. "Or did you conveniently forget?"

"No, she's in there." Her nonchalant tone made the semi-relief I felt from Mandy being nearby shrink. "Have fun."

"Thank you." I clutched my black Americano in my hand as I stepped away from her desk, heading back toward what passed as a private office in this drab, horrible building.

My heart quickened its pace with every step I took, nearly doubling when I saw a shadow move behind the closed blinds of my office window.

I quieted my footsteps, taking my time, not wanting to set off immediate alarm bells for her. The handle of my briefcase felt heavy in my hand, as if the weight of the world was resting in my palm. In a way, it was.

The woman I'd loved, the woman I'd hurt in the worst possible way stood on the other side of that door, waiting for me.

Sure, it was only because I'd threatened her, but something in my gut knew she would have come either way. I knew a part of her was excited to see me too.

I hoped.

Fingers shaking and breaths coming too fast, I turned the handle.

Five foot five, slender in the way an athlete would be, chestnut brown, curly hair hanging low around her shoulders. All things I absolutely should have noticed first, things a normal, sane man would have noticed first.

No, my eyes went directly to her bare torso, her flawless, exposed skin from the waist up covered only by a thin bralette.

Why is she in my office wearing only a bra?

Where the fuck is her blouse?

How do I hide my cock coming to life in my pants?

She hadn't heard me come in.

Unsure of what to do or say, I cleared my throat to get her attention, her surprised shriek nearly making me jump. In one swift motion she turned, and right away I noticed her white blouse clutched between her fingers, covered in what looked like coffee.

Her eyes were wide as saucers, locked on mine in a state of fight or flight. Even through the obvious mortification oozing from her that she so desperately tried to hide, she looked as beautiful as she did ten years ago. More so, even, and considering the state of her appearance, I had to keep myself from thinking with my cock for once.

I turned my gaze from her as soon as our eyes met. I didn't want her thinking I was a creep andan asshole all wrapped in one although I was certain she already did.

Closing the door behind me, I dropped my briefcase onto the floor. Without letting myself think too hard or too quickly about it, I shrugged my suit jacket from my shoulders, popped off my cuff links, and loosened my tie.

"What the fuck do you think?—"

"Oh, calm down, Mandy." I unbuttoned my shirt, keeping my back turned in a desperate endeavor to keep her from seeing my chest.

She didn't need to know about the tattoo… yet.

I slid the sleeves down my arms before chucking the loose piece of fabric at her blindly.

"That stain won't come out. You might as well just take my shirt," I said, feeling the heat of her eyes on my back. I was bigger now, stronger, more of a man than I was at twenty-one. I was in the top ten of America's Top Bachelors, actually.

I realized we were both half naked.

Alone.

In my office.

And how I found the control to stop myself from turning around and taking two giant strides to close the space between us, I didn't know. I pictured tasting her, lifting her skirt, and fucking her right there on my desk.

It would have been wild. Needy. Fucking ecstasy.

Make-up sex that would make everything right.

"Thank you," she mumbled, knocking me out of my fantasy. I could hear the rustling fabric as she slipped on my shirt.

Back to reality.

I stepped around my desk, one arm covering the top of my chest.

Her eyes moved quickly, her gaze darting from my pecs to my biceps to my abs.

She was checking me out.

And I could tell she liked what she saw. Her cheeks were flushed.

Was she also imagining me fucking her on my desk?

Was she imagining my hard cock inside her, taking her to the same place of toe-curling pleasure I took her to that night ten years ago?

My cock was clearly doing the thinking.

Within a split second she cast her gaze down to her lap. "I can't have a meeting with you if you're going to be shirtless the entire time."

Damn…

"I'm not expecting you to." I leaned forward, keeping my eyes locked on hers so she wouldn't notice my tattoo as I opened the bottom drawer of the saddest-looking desk in existence. My backup shirt was neatly tucked in at the bottom, underneath a handful of papers and folders. I plucked it out and slipped it over my head.

"Why…?" She asked.

"What?" I plopped my ass in my chair as I stared her down.

"Why didn't you just give me that one?"

I blinked at her as I adjusted the sleeves, my mind entirely blank. Something about seeing her in my dress shirt was too much, making it far too hard to think. A heavy silence fell around us, the only sound that of our combined, awkward breathing.

This was already not going to plan.

"Fine, if you're not going to answer me, then we might as well get on with it," she sighed, fingering the little holes in the sleeves where the cuff links had held it together. "Why did you have your secretary bring me in here alone? Why can't I have Harry with me?"

I narrowed my gaze as I tried not to stare at the way her fingers worked, tried not to wonder what else they did in the confines of a dark bedroom. "Would you have preferred Harry be in here as you scrubbed your shirt of its stain in nothing more than your bra?"

"You're not a psychic, Jackson."

The sound of my name coming from her lips made my skin crawl in the best possible way, made my heart skip a beat in my chest. "No, I'm not," I admitted. I chose my words carefully, my tone carefully, to come across as strongly as I could. "Truthfully, I wanted to speak to you alone first because I want to ensure that you're going to be professional about us working together." And I just wanted to see you alone after ten years of hiding from you.

"Oh. Absolutely not." She leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms against her chest. "If you're going to force me to be around you then I will be activelytrying to make your life a living hell."

"I would appreciate it if you wouldn't do that," I snarled, keeping my voice as even as I could.

"God, you sound like an old man. What happened to you? Did abandoning me in the middle of the night age you by thirty years?"

I steeled my jaw as I forced myself to look away from her. I deserved that. "I'm doing my best to be level-headed here, Miranda. Level-headed and professional."

"Was it professional to call me up and tell me that you know I'm broke and making me come to some ridiculous, unnecessary meeting?"

"Was it professional to undress in your future boss's office?" I snapped back.

Mandy's face went red, whether from embarrassment or irritation, I had no idea. "If we're going to work together, Mr. Big, you will not be my boss. You'll be my equal."

"Mr. Big?" I scoffed, my jaw nearly twitching from restraining the urge to clench it. "Don't fucking call me that. Call me by my name. You said it two minutes ago. And as for me being your boss, that is absolutely the case."

"If you're going to try to boss me around then this entire thing is doomed from the start," she quipped. "I'm not going to listen to you. All pink interiors are what you wanted, right? Top to bottom, pink carpets, pink tile, pink paint, pink desks?—"

"Enough." This wasn't going how I wanted, not at all, but I suppose that was on me. "You will be professional. You will listen to me when I give orders. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, Mr. Big," she hissed through her teeth, her hands fidgeting in her lap. "Doesn't mean I'll actually do what you say. But I will listen."

Irritation boiled in my blood as I shoved myself up on my feet, my hands planted on the desk in front of me. I leaned toward her, my muscles flexed, my temperature rising. "Miranda Littleson, I will be your fucking boss. You will accept that. You will deal with whatever that means for you if you want to keep this contract and your goddamn business afloat. What I say goes. Do you understand me?"

Wide eyes met mine as she watched me loom over her. "Yes."

"Fucking perfect. Now get back to the meeting room before I change my mind."

I watched her practically scurry from my office. I needed a moment alone, I needed time to collect myself.

This wasn't going to plan.

She made me lose all sense of composure.

I didn't know how to act.

I was being far too harsh on her.

I was cornered.

I didn't want to do it this way. I wanted her to want this. But I was doing what needed to be done, right?

No. You're being an ass, Jackson.

I sighed as I collapsed in my chair. I was being an ass. I needed to tone it down before she walked away for fucking good, her own business be damned.

I needed to win her back.