The problem was, she wanted to.
She dragged her gaze from his scar and feasted on the sight of his tight ass as he stood up and gave another R-rated stretch. Then he strolled to the bedroom door, and her hungry gaze drank in the sight of his strong thighs. She felt like the world’s worst pervert, drooling over him, but couldn’t help herself.
At the door he paused. She had the uncanny sense he was posing for effect, before he turned and she caught sight of his erection.
She drew up her legs and buried her burning face in the bed sheet. Jackson Grayson was hot in bed and out of it.
She was so ready for another sweaty session with him. And that was after she’d come three—no, four times during the night. Usually the big O was an elusive hope shimmering on the horizon for her.
Jackson didn’t just have a talented tongue. He had a talented… everything.
It was only when he touched her shoulder that she realized how long she’d been daydreaming about him. She raised her head.
Anything she might have said died in her throat at the sight of him. His black hair was disheveled, his morning stubble hypnotic, and the rakish way his shirt was undone at the throat and his tie hung in abandoned disarray beneath the collar, was just plain panty-melting.
I’m not wearing any panties.
“Do you need me to drive you home?”
She reeled in her lascivious thoughts and hoped he couldn’t read her mind. “No, it’s fine.” Unfortunately, her voice hadn’t received the memo. She sounded completely desperate. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Thanks, um, for everything.”
Crap, and now he’d think she was thanking him for the sex. She hadn’t meant it to sound that way.
What way had she meant it to sound?
How much champagne did I drink?
A heart-stopping smile played around his lips. “I told you I’d give full satisfaction in all areas.”
He might have been referring to the services she’d hired him for. Except the gleam in his eyes told her he was referring to a lot more than that.
And she had to admit. He had certainly delivered.
“I have no complaints.” She gave him a nod to underscore her remark and hoped she came across as worldly and not so totally out of her depth that she feared she was drowning. “I’d be happy to give you a reference if you ever need one.”
Why won’t my mouth shut up? Jackson would think she was insane.
“Thanks for the offer.” He sounded on the verge of laughing. She gripped the sheet as mortification licked through her. But he didn’t laugh. A frown flickered across his brow, and for one eternal moment she had an eerie certainty he was about to kiss her.
Then he straightened and backed away. Thank God for that.
Liar.
“You know where I am if you need anything,” Jackson said, and then he frowned again, as though he was worried she might take him literally.
It stung. Did he really think she’d chase after him?
Even if she did want to see him again—which she didn’t—there was no way she’d embarrass herself by running after a guy who so clearly wasn’t interested.
“Thanks, but I’m sure I can take it from here.” She smiled and nodded yet again, although she had no idea why she was nodding, except it hopefully emphasized her complete lack of intention to follow up his offer.
“Right.” He took another backward step. His gaze never left hers. Silence spun between them, and the air thickened with untold promises of sex. Then he let out a measured breath. “See you around, Scarlett.”
And with that, he turned and walked out of her life.
Chapter Nine
A couple of hours later, Scarlett made her way to the Presidential Suite. Her father’s summons had roused her from her post-Jackson stupor enough to take a long shower. It hadn’t helped to scrub either the previous night or the man himself from her mind.
Then again, did she really want to scrub him from her mind? Every time she remembered the things he’d done with his hands and tongue, delicious aftershocks rippled through her body.
She realized another satisfied smile was on her face and hastily schooled her features as her dad opened the door.
“Hey, Dad.” She kissed his cheek. “All set for your honeymoon?” He was taking Clarissa to Monte Carlo because she’d never been, and it was at the top of her extensive bucket list.
“As I’ll ever be.” He pushed the door shut behind her and indicated she should follow him into the sitting room. “Clarissa’s having a spa treatment this morning. I wanted to speak with you alone.”
Scarlett’s stomach pitched. That didn’t sound good. Before she could think of a suitable response he added, “I didn’t see much of you at the reception last night.”
She hadn’t expected him to notice. She sat on a sofa opposite him and tried to come up with an acceptable excuse.
“You were otherwise occupied.”
He reclined in his chair and studied her. For a man approaching sixty and who, eighteen months ago, had almost died, he looked remarkably fit. And she had to admit a lot of that credit went to Clarissa who, despite her social climbing aspirations, did make sure Scarlett’s dad took care of himself.
She tucked her hair behind her ear and tried not to fidget. It was the same whenever her father turned the full force of his attention her way. Probably because he so rarely did. Usually their relationship was more of the fleeting kind, or conducted in the midst of family and relatives.
At least, it had been that way for the last ten years. She didn’t remember any kind of reserve between them when her mom was alive.
Finally he spoke. “Is it serious between you and Jackson Grayson?”
For one scary second she almost said “yes”, not because of the thread of regret in the back of her mind that there was nothing serious between her and Jackson at all. It was because the note of censure in her father’s voice pissed her off.
Shock slithered through her. Dad doesn’t piss me off.
She forced a smile to her lips. She’d rather die than admit to anyone the truth of her relationship with Jackson, but she could live with a partial revelation. “Of course not. It’s just a bit of fun, that’s all.”
Her father’s watchful stance relaxed very slightly. “I’m glad to hear that, honey. Guy like that could break your heart.”
“Mm.” Surely her dad wasn’t about to give her a lecture on her love life? He’d never even touched on the subject before. Then again, the only guys she’d dated in the past had been the sons or relatives of people in his own social sphere.
How weird he had never considered that any of them might break her heart.
“You know how I feel about your working at Rose Marie.”
Scarlett frowned. What did her working at the women’s shelter her mom had set up have to do with Jackson? And yes, she knew what her father thought of it.
He didn’t like her getting her hands dirty. Hadn’t liked her mom getting her hands dirty, either.
It wasn’t a sense of duty that kept her at Rose Marie House, because of her mom’s involvement in the shelter, or because she had volunteered alongside her mom while she was a teen. It was that she enjoyed working there. And while her original dream of becoming a lawyer—so she could help out in a more solid role by taking on pro rata cases—had fallen through due to her lack of passion for law, it was still a good feeling to know she was actually needed.
“Mom always wanted me to continue with her work.”
It wasn’t a lie. Guilt stabbed through her when her dad flinched.
He recovered quickly. He always did. But she’d be kicking herself for the rest of the week for having resorted to such a dirty tactic.
“I know that. It’s the reason I tolerate your insistence in spending so much time there.” He might have been speaking to one of his lowly employees for all the warmth in his voice. When she was a child, had he really laughed and played with her, or was it all a fantasy her ima
gination had conjured over the years?
“Dad—”
“But.” He cut through her interruption. “There’s a difference between working alongside undesirables and inviting them into your personal life. Always remember that, Scarlett.”
Injustice bubbled in her chest and her face burned. For a start, she didn’t work alongside undesirables. They had good security at the shelter—real security, who weren’t afraid to face any abusive ex who might roll up to the front door.
But it was her father’s dig at Jackson that really scraped her nerves.
“Jackson Grayson isn’t an undesirable.” There was a touch of acid in her tone, but that wasn’t what shocked her. It was the fact she’d openly disagreed with her dad.
He offered her a perfunctory smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I know his type. Out for whatever he can get. But I trust your judgment, Scarlett. You’ve had your fun at the expense of Edward and that’s fine by me. I just wanted your assurance it was nothing serious for me to concern myself with.”
Her father had noticed what had gone on between her and Edward? Maybe he wasn’t as blindly besotted with Clarissa as she thought.
And as for Jackson—it wasn’t serious. But her father’s unjustified accusations against Jackson burned. If things were different, if she and Jackson were seeing each other, then the last thing she’d do would be to finish things with him just to please her dad.
…
It had been three days since he’d walked out on Scarlett. Jackson contemplated the ceiling of his office, his feet propped on his desk and his hands clasped behind his head. Why had he said, you know where I am if you need anything. It sounded like an invitation to get in touch.
Scarlett hadn’t taken him up on that invitation.
Even though it hadn’t been a fucking invitation.
His door opened and he was relieved to get away from his tangled thoughts, until he saw the smirk on Ella’s face.
“Got a problem with one of your clients, J.” She sounded so innocent that he knew she was up to something.
“What kind of problem?”
Ella sighed dramatically. “Financial.”
He scowled. He knew what was coming. He also had no idea how to get out of the backlash that was sure to follow.
“Financial problem?” His brother Alex appeared at the door and squeezed his way into the room without touching Ella. “That’s not like you, Jackson.”
He almost asked Ella which client she was talking about. Except it was obvious who she was talking about, and he didn’t want to draw any more attention to Scarlett’s missing payment than absolutely necessary.
“There’s no problem.” He slung his brother a dark look. “I’m on top of it.”
Ella snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure you were, hon.”
Alex shot Ella a probing look. “Am I missing something here?”
Ella’s smile dimmed for a second. Despite Jackson’s irritation at the way she had pounced on the screw up with Scarlett’s check, a flash of sympathy streaked through him.
His brother was so fucking blind when it came to Ella. But if he said anything to Alex about her feelings, she would have his balls for breakfast.
“Nope.” Jackson swung his legs off his desk. “I’m refunding the fee.”
“Why?” Alex leaned against the wall, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. He might seem relaxed and the question might sound idle, but Jackson knew his brother better than that. He wouldn’t let this go until he was satisfied with the answer.
“The assignment didn’t go as planned.”
Alex didn’t move a muscle but Jackson could feel sudden tension radiate from him. Shit. This was rapidly turning into a nightmare.
“Trouble?” There was only a hint of interest in his brother’s voice but it spoke volumes. The Graysons did not refund fees. And they didn’t bend in the face of trouble. He should have told Ella first thing Monday morning that he was canceling the Ashford account, instead of pissing about for another two days until she discovered the discrepancy herself.
Ella might’ve given him hell for it, but she wouldn’t have broken his confidence. Alex would never have known about the Ashford job, and this exchange wouldn’t be taking place.
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
“I hope you’re right about that.” For once there was no laughter in Ella’s voice. “We have policies in place for a reason.”
For fuck’s sake. He glared at her and she glared right back.
He hadn’t intended to break policy with Scarlett.
Keep telling yourself that.
“You going tell me what’s going on?”
Jackson stood. It was better than being psychologically disadvantaged by having to look up at Alex while his integrity was shredded.
“Things got heated. So I’m canceling the account. Satisfied?”
The resulting silence hurt his eardrums. Finally Alex spoke. “Tell me you didn’t screw a client.”
“I’m not discussing my sex life with you.”
“Christ.” Alex pushed himself away from the wall. “You better fucking sort this out, Jackson.” His eyes narrowed, as though something else had occurred to him. “There’s nothing serious going on between you, is there?”
“It was a one-time thing.” Okay so technically it had been three times. He wasn’t going into details. “Ella, can you return the deposit into the client’s account?”
“Sure.” There was a chill in her voice.
His brother and friend were right. Didn’t mean he had to like it. In fact, he had the powerful urge to go punch something hard and unyielding.
An hour later, when Ella left to go to some animal rights rally, and Alex disappeared to the club he’d bought last year, Jackson unlocked the drawer in his desk and took out Scarlett’s check. All he needed to do was rip it in half and send it back to her in the mail with a carefully worded note.
It was the note that was giving him a headache. Maybe he could just send the check back with a compliments slip.
Yeah, classy.
In the end he did what he’d been fighting against doing from the moment he’d left Scarlett in the hotel.
He picked up his cell and called her.
Chapter Ten
Scarlett stifled a yawn and feigned interest as her cousin Livia gushed over the steamy hook up she’d enjoyed over the weekend. It appeared Scarlett wasn’t the only one who’d gotten laid at her father’s wedding.
Only difference being, she had no intention of telling anyone about it. Unlike Livia’s conquest, Jackson had expressed no interest in seeing her again.
She’d known that from the outset. So for God’s sake get over it.
Their waiter unobtrusively replenished their drinks. The Italian restaurant was exclusive, and she and her girlfriends came there for lunch once a month. The primary reason why the Ashford cousins, and equally privileged select friends, got together was to network for their pet charities. While some last minute details about the upcoming annual ball to raise funds for Rose Marie House had been finalized, today had been mainly about sharing wedding gossip.
This group of friends was one of the few where they could say anything, confident nothing would get leaked to press not controlled by Ashford Communication.
“And what about that gorgeous man you pulled out at the last moment?” asked her cousin, Jade, who was almost thirty and recently divorced. “Edward was so pissed. It was hysterical.”
“Nice one in the eye for Clarissa,” Livia said. “Manipulative bitch.”
“Yes, but where did you find him?” Harley was the granddaughter of a movie mogul and the same age as Scarlett, and she looked a little offended. They were, after all, good friends and had grown up together. They’d even gone to the same boarding school.
“Through mutual acquaintances.” At least that was the truth. “It’s just really casual. Nothing serious.”
“It didn’t look that way on the dance floor.” Jade leaned ac
ross the table. “You looked fucking combustible together.”
“Don’t tell me you’re friends with benefits?” Harley sounded flabbergasted. “Since when have you ever done that? My God, Scarlett. Did you sleep with him?”
Somehow, when she’d come up with the idea of hiring a man to keep Edward and Clarissa off her back, she hadn’t considered the fallout among her friends. Of course they’d want every dirty detail. Especially when Jackson Grayson wasn’t anyone they could hunt down through the intertwined branches of a few well-connected family trees.
“By the look on her face I don’t think much sleeping went on,” Livia said. “So how long have you been hooking up?”
Scarlett took a fortifying sip of wine. To lie or not to lie, that was the question. If she could just get over the fact she’d hired Jackson in the first place, would she find it so hard to tell her friends about the hottest night she’d ever had?
Luckily her cell chose that moment to ring, and with a silent sigh of relief she pulled it from her purse.
Jackson Grayson.
It was slightly freaky the way he’d contacted her at the very moment she’d been talking about him. Gingerly she answered. “Hi.”
“Hey, Scarlett. It’s Jackson Grayson.”
Even if his name hadn’t come up with his number, she’d know that sinfully sexy voice anywhere. She licked her lips and then caught sight of eight pairs of eyes avidly watching her.
It was obvious they’d all guessed exactly who she was talking to.
“Yes, hi.” She cleared her throat. “Everything okay?”
She couldn’t imagine why he’d called. But no way was she going to ask him when she had an audience hanging on every word. She’d just have to somehow bluff her way through.
“That’s why I got in touch. There’s a hitch with the financials.”
She literally felt the blood rush to her head, heating her cheeks until she knew she must look like an overripe tomato. She transferred her cell to her other hand and angled away from the table. If anyone had overheard that comment she would die.
Hold Me Until Midnight Page 6
