“I know.” I smile. “I’m excited to get to work and see the plant,” I say in a polite tone, switching topics. I don’t want to discuss my father or anything personal, and I’m not going to think about all the issues waiting for me back in New Jersey. There’s business to handle while I’m on this trip, and that is going to be my priority. In the last twenty years, my father never once made me a priority—I’m not about to make him one now.

“We’ll head straight there. Then we’ll have dinner, since I know you’re excited for that too.”

“Too?” I straighten my back and snap my eyes to his.

“You might have said something about that.” He laughs. “And a few other things,” he adds as an afterthought. Jackson turns and cleans up his papers.

Is he serious? I bite my lip and hesitate before asking my next question. “What are you talking about? Did I say anything else?”

He tilts his head to the side, grinning, and then shrugs. What the hell does the shrug mean? I have to know. He grabs his bag and moves past me. I’m stunned, silently praying all I did was mumble.

As he walks by, I grab his arm to stop him. I try for nonchalance, hoping that maybe his good-humored side will play along. My stomach is doing somersaults as I think of all the possible things I could’ve said in my sleep. In the short time we’ve known each other I’ve dreamed of him so often—if my words were anything close to sounding like the two very erotic dreams I’ve already had, I may die.

His eyes are playful when he looks at me. “Something you want to know?” he asks, raising one eyebrow.

“Me? No.” I smile and look contrite.

“Are you sure? You look rather curious.” He smirks and pushes my hair off my face.

I laugh, hoping to get him to tell me what I said. “Jackson, I thought you were into saving girls from disastrous situations. You know, a soldier and all—”

He cuts me off. “No, I was a SEAL, not a soldier. Big difference,” he says as he puffs his chest out.

“Okay … SEAL, then. Didn’t know the term meant anything.” I tilt my head, smiling and batting my eyelashes. “Anyway, don’t you want to tell me whatever it is you think you know?”

He smiles at my blatant attempt at persuasion. Dropping his the bag on the seat, he says, “Catherine, you don’t really think I’m going to give up that easy, do you?” He grins and takes a step closer. I notice his Adam’s apple bobbing as he debates his next words. “I’m like a vault, and it’s going to take a whole lot more than those gorgeous eyes batting at me to crack this one,” he says huskily.

I take a step back and smile. “So there is something to spill, then?”

He laughs loudly and steps back. “Come on. We’ve got places to go.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a frustrating man?”

He taps his finger on his chin as if deep in thought. “Nope, most people find me endearing and charming.”

I snort. “Are these people on your payroll by any chance?”

“Maybe, but then again you’re on my payroll and seem to disagree with the consensus.” He smiles and heads toward the cabin door.

“Good thing I don’t work for you. You’re just a client, so I don’t have to agree.”

He stops and turns toward me suggestively. “Good thing I have three days to change your mind about that, then.” He winks, leaving me speechless as we exit the plane.

Chapter Eleven

Jackson and I don’t speak much in the car. Both of us are looking at the new sales figures he received from his secretary when we landed. The numbers look promising and show a shift in the market. I look through a few more emails on my phone, not really paying much attention to where we’re going. I shoot a quick text to Ashton, letting her know we’ve landed safely. About fifteen minutes later, we pull up to a large office building that’s all windows.

I look over at the Cole Security Forces sign and I’m suddenly confused. Clearly, this isn’t the production facility. I glance at Jackson. He’s still engrossed in the figures, so he hasn’t noticed we’ve stopped.

I clear my throat. “Jackson, where are we?”

He looks at the building and back at me. “This is my other company. I run a security force that has contracts all over the world. I need to run in and show face for about ten minutes. Would you like to come in?” His eyes shift back and forth and he sounds genuinely nervous.

Well there’s a surprise. The man owns a cosmetics company and a security company—talk about polar opposites. My eyes widen at his admission and then I recover, smiling softly. “If you’d like me to, sure.”

We both exit the car and head over to the entrance. Jackson places his hand on my shoulder as he opens the door. Just the small touch sends me into overdrive. I tilt my head and give him a small grin as I enter the office.

It’s nothing like Raven Cosmetics. Where that office is almost feminine, this one is modern and masculine with clean lines and distinctive colors. The floors are gray concrete and the walls are cream and royal blue, which makes sense based on the décor from the plane. In the center of the room, there are two big cubicle sections that each seats five people. The left wall is taken up by four large offices with huge mahogany doors.

Jackson clears his throat as we make our way into the space. Three guys stand and smile when they see him. A few other guys stick their hands up, acknowledging his presence, but continue to work.

“Hey, Muffin!” A tall, muscular guy with long light blond hair styled back off his face says as he walks over, smiling. He’s huge and his arms are covered in tattoos, which might be intimidating if he wasn’t so warm and friendly.

“Hey, Mark.” He looks happy to see him. The two men shake hands and clap each other on the shoulder. Mark turns his attention to me with wide eyes and a large, appraising grin. Jackson bristles. “Mark, this is Catherine. She’s the new publicist for the cosmetics company,” he says stiffly.

I smile and extend my hand. “Hi, Mark. Nice to meet you.”

Mark shakes my hand. “Catherine, it’s a pleasure. Sorry you have to work with this prick all day.” He elbows Jackson in the stomach, still smiling at me.

I giggle and reply, “Interesting choice of words. Jackson describes himself a little differently.”

Mark raises his eyebrows, looking intrigued by my statement. “Really? What did Muff describe himself as?”

“Muff?” I ask, completely lost.

He howls in laughter. “Yup. That’s Jackson! He was always a little soft in the middle,”—he leans in—“whereas the rest of us worked out to keep our amazing physiques.” He stands back up, beaming. “So we told him he had a muffin top and that stuck as his call sign.”

I giggle at the nickname and glance at Jackson, who’s shooting daggers at Mark. Turning back to Mark, I ask, “So what’s your call sign?”

Jackson places his hand on the small of my back. “Twilight and I were both on the same team for four years.”

“Twilight? Oh, I gotta hear this!” I laugh. Now it’s Mark’s turn to give Jackson the evil eye.

Jackson chuckles and pulls me against his side. “Notice how pale Mark is?” He asks, jutting his chin out in his direction. I nod. These two are the female versions of Ashton and me. It’s comforting, considering the day I’ve had. “Well he’s so white he could glitter in the sun. One of the guys’ wives had some kind of obsession with that movie, and he kept telling him he could star in Twilight. So Mark here is our glittery, pale Twilight.”