Mark scoffs and puffs his chest out. “I’m proud of my name. At least they aren’t saying I’m a fat ass. That Edward dude had abs like a rock. Besides, I could kick your ass any day, any time,” he challenges, stepping closer to me as he smiles widely.

Jackson raises his chin and addresses me. “He’s an ass**le but knows his shit, so he stays—for now.” He smirks at Mark. “And anyway, he knows who’s in charge. Right, Mark?” I can almost smell the testosterone in the room.

Mark laughs and his eyes crinkle. “Keep thinking that, assclown. You need me too much.” He puts his arm around my shoulders, taunting Jackson.

“Right, remember who signs your paycheck.” Jackson raises a brow.

“Anyway, Catherine, this f**knugget gives you any problems, you call me and I’ll kick his ass.”

I instantly love this man. He flashes me that ever-present smile one last time before heading back over to his desk. Jackson grips my hip, grimacing and mumbling something under his breath.

Jackson guides me over to an office and flips on the light before closing the door. It’s large and airy. There are photos all over the wall and I walk over to get a closer look. There are a few of Jackson, Mark, and some other guys drinking and laughing. A few of him on a boat with some friends, looking carefree and happy. My stomach clenches at the next one. He’s standing in camouflage with a huge gun slung across his body, a menacing look on his face. He looks scary yet unbelievably sexy.

“You know …” I say, turning, and then I gasp as he startles me.

I was so lost in the photos I didn’t even realize he was behind me. “What?” He smiles.

Once my heart settles and I can speak again, I remember what I was going to say. “You looked pretty nice in uniform.”

“Nice?” he asks, arching a brow.

“Cute.”

“Cute?” Apparently this is even worse than nice.

I look back at the photo, trying to figure out what he seems bothered over. “What? Is cute not a good word?”

I feel him move in behind me, and I struggle not to lean back into him.

“Cute is for babies and puppies. I can think of at least ten other words to better describe me,” he says against my ear. A shiver races over my body and I have to consciously work to steady my breathing.

I close my eyes and smother the desire burning through me. “Really?” I ask breathily.

“Hot, sexy, buff, handsome, f**king amazing, God’s idea of perfect … I could go on, but any of those would be acceptable,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

I turn to face him. We’re so close physically, but in any other way we’re miles apart. Still, I’m battling every cell in my body not to give in to him.

“Jackson,” I warn.

He takes a small step forward. “I know you’re taken, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”

My brows furrow in confusion. “Taken?”

He looks down at my left hand and brings it up between us. “Aren’t you engaged?” He looks from my eyes back down to my hand where my ring used to sit.

“Oh. Ummm, no. Not anymore. We’re over and have been for a while.” I don’t know what to say. I can’t tell him the guy was Neil. I start to feel panic rising at how ridiculously screwed-up my life is and how all of this can come crumbling so easily.

“That certainly changes things.” His eyes blaze with unspoken promises.

“Changes things? No. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re my client.” Or how I’m a mess over the constant screw-ups from the men in my life. And it definitely doesn’t change how I know with every ounce of my being that Jackson would ruin me if I let him in.

“Catherine, I can’t stay away from you.” His voice penetrates through my thoughts, straight to my heart, and it takes me a second to find my resolve.

He cups my face in his hands, holding me, forcing me to look at him. “Jackson, I’m not with anyone, but this isn’t a good—”

Before I can finish my sentence his mouth is on mine. All at once, I’m surrounded by heat, strength, and power—all that is Jackson. The sparks I felt previously are nothing compared to the inferno raging between us right now. I close my eyes and lose myself in the feel of his mouth on mine. My chest presses against him as he pushes me back against the wall and tilts my head to the side. His tongue is against my lips, begging for entrance. I sigh, which is all the permission he needs. Our tongues swirl together as we kiss with fervor. Lifting my hands, I grip his h*ps and pull him closer. Wanting to touch his body, I trace my hands across the muscles of his taut back, over his hard arms, across the ridges of his abs. The way he feels against my lips, against my body, against my fingers … it’s incredible. I could kiss him forever—his mouth is heaven. Never have I been kissed like this. Jackson shifts and lifts my head to gain better access, and I willingly give it to him. Pushing and pulling each other, trying to get closer and closer, I moan, causing Jackson to break the kiss.

He rests his head against my forehead as we both struggle to catch our breath. I can feel the shift in him as he sighs loudly. “Fuck! I’m sorry.” He shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.” He leans back and looks over toward his desk.

I snap my head up, wounded and embarrassed by his sudden rejection. His words, the regret in his voice, and his now distant behavior has me in knots. My stomach flops and I feel sick. He kissed me, and now he’s acting like it was a mistake. I don’t want to want him, but I do. As much as I want to fight what I feel for him, I’m not sure I’m strong enough. But maybe I don’t need to be after all. Maybe my concern was all for nothing. His aloof attitude stings, but I shove down my feelings. I can’t let him know he’s hurt me. I won’t let another man destroy me.

I move over to the side of the room and take a deep breath. “Jackson, it’s fine. I should never have crossed that line.” I don’t know what line I actually crossed, but I’ll take the blame. He’s my client, and the last thing I need is for him to fire me. Besides, it will only be a matter of time before he sees the real me and decides he’s better off. My mind is spinning as the pain of his rejection swells. My God, how many times will I do this to myself? You’d think by now I’d realize that every man in my life leaves. They take and take and then I’m left cleaning up the pieces, praying next time will be different.

He moves toward me and stops suddenly. He swallows hard and rubs his hand over his face. He looks sad and angry. “You did nothing wrong!” he snaps and I take a step back. He lifts his head to the ceiling and shakes his head. “You’ve had a lot of shit happen today. I didn’t mean to …” He takes a step forward with his hands by his side, clenched into tight fists. I’m not sure why he’s so angry about it. I thought he enjoyed it, but I guess not.

I put my hands up to stop him—I don’t want to hear it. “Please, just stop. Let’s forget about it, okay? I’m a lot stronger than you think. I’ve dealt with a lifetime of this.” I turn away and look out the window. I don’t trust myself to say any more right now.

“Catherine, please …” he pleads. I hear him step forward but he doesn’t say anything else. It feels like five minutes have passed when I feel his hands on my shoulders. I shrug him off and turn to face him. The look in his eyes stops the hostility I was feeling. He looks devastated, torn. He swallows and his voice is soft, laced with pain. “I’ve wanted and yet not wanted to kiss you for the last two weeks. It isn’t you, I promise. I don’t want to take advantage of the grief you’re feeling.”