Jackson's Trust

by Violet Duke

  Though the mention of a new job had Jackson a little worried for his Win-Back-Leila plans, he was thrilled at how happy she looked. “You seem pretty giddy about it. Which I’m assuming means there’s football involved?”

  She beamed. “Yep. My official title is football documentary interviewer/reporter. It’s a small freelance arrangement on a project-by-project basis, but I think it’s just what I’ve been searching for. So far, I’m contracted for three cable specials, the first about a football town in Florida, which is why I’m spending a month there.”

  “Holy shit, that sounds amazing.” It took everything in him not to scoop her up into his arms to congratulate her. One step at a time, Gray. “How did all this happen?” Knowing she was the only other person he knew who loved football documentaries as much as he did, this was huge.

  “Ironically, it was because of all those weeks I spent recuperating on bed rest, watching pretty much every documentary DVD I own. I got inspired and made a few calls to get some leads. And thanks to the glowing recommendations I got from DBC Sports Network, along with dozens of coaches in the league, I was able to sit down with some interested film financiers and network project backers. Then everything took off from there.”

  Shaking his head in unsurprised wonder, Jackson squeezed her hand. “Well, they definitely chose the right woman for the job. I’m happy for you, sunshine.”

  “I am, too. It’s so cool to think I get to interview people who were a part of these regional football stories that have shaped the history of the game.”

  Incredibly cool. It truly was the perfect job for her.

  Just as perfect as the one outlined in the job proposal he’d brought with him from the car.

  Here goes nothing.

  “So are the other two projects going to be filmed during football season?”

  “Interestingly, no. All the projects are filmed off-season for specific pre- and post-season airtime spots.”

  Holy shit, that was a relief to hear.

  “And if they had been,” she continued, “I would’ve turned them down, or at least checked with Donovan first.”

  Wait, what? “Am I missing something? Why Donovan?”

  She gave him a puzzled look. “I figured he would’ve told you by now. We sealed the deal a while ago.”

  Reason number 178 that Jackson needed to consider the getting-new-friends idea more seriously. “What deal?”

  “We tweaked my football locks-and-picks algorithm a bit and turned it into an app. Donovan got me the investors, and the Spencer boys in Cactus Creek handled all the tech and design. The app will be exclusively available as an analysis resource to all the NFL coaching teams, and I’ll be overseeing the weekly updates to the app based on what’s happened in the world of football that week—everything from game stats to injuries. I’m sure it’d be fine for me to do other things during the season since I’ll have interns and assistants taking care of a lot of it, but you know how intense Donovan gets about business. I’d only put him through the stress for a really good reason.”

  Interns? Assistants? He was going to kill Donovan for not telling him any of this. Handing Leila the big envelope that he’d been putting together for a while now, he asked, “Would something like this count as a good reason?”

  Leila’s brows shot up when she saw the NFL Studios logo emblazoned on the front of the thick envelope. As she pulled out the stapled stack of papers and scanned the first several pages of the proposal, he watched her expression closely.

  So far, she’d gasped two and a half times.

  A promising start.

  “Jackson, what did you…How did you…”

  “It actually wasn’t that hard. While I didn’t call thirty-two NFL team owners like you did for me”—the corners of his eyes crinkled at the extraordinary reminder—“I did call thirty-two head coaches for you. I’d bet good money that the calls you made were truckloads more difficult than mine.” He grinned. “Coach Skip’s lasted maybe fifteen seconds.”

  Her eyes dropped back down to the proposal again, blinking triple time in awe. “Did you come up with this show idea yourself, or did NFL Studios approach you?”

  “I approached them. And together, we worked on turning my rough idea into, well, this.”

  “This” was a proposal for a new weekly network TV show that would air through the regular season. The show’s host would feature two of the teams scheduled to play against each other that week, via interviews with players, coaches, and fans, co-conducted by one lucky young girl from each of the teams’ host cities. And the added bonus that Jackson had insisted on would include a trip to the Super Bowl for the selected superfan and her family if her team makes it all the way.

  “Jackson, this is…wonderful.” Leila flipped through the pages in amazement, smiling over all the carefully detailed plans. “You really think they’ll offer me the job if I apply?”

  “Apply?” He barked out a laugh. “Sunshine, I’m fairly certain the coaches will boycott the show completely if you’re not a package deal with it. Frankly, most of them don’t trust anyone else to do a good job. It’d be your show, Leila. You just have to say yes.”

  She looked downright shell-shocked now.

  “What’s wrong? You can’t be surprised that the coaches—”

  She cut him off at the pass. “Wait a sec, even with the Grayhurst name sponsoring this, and all the coaches backing you, this had to have taken months of planning.”

  He shrugged. That sounded about right.

  “Meaning you obviously started working on this well before you thought I was going to be running off into the sunset with Nick.”

  Oh. Right. That. “I started on it as soon as I heard you weren’t with the network anymore. I just didn’t tell you until now because I didn’t want to get your hopes up until I had the deal locked up first. But, yeah, I’ve been working on it pretty much every spare minute I’ve had since then.”

  Brushing his knuckles against her cheek, he asked softly, “Did you think this was all part of a sudden ‘big gesture’ sort of thing?”

  Right on cue, her face flushed with heat.

  “Because if so, you’re absolutely right. It is.”

  —

  While Leila was pretty sure she was going to pass out soon, her lungs didn’t seem to be in any particular rush to replenish the supply of oxygen in her lungs.

  “If you faint on me, fair warning, honey, I probably won’t follow conventional mouth-to-mouth protocol. Just saying.”

  The low timbre of concern in his voice was a potent pairing with his wickedly heated gaze, now riveted to her lips.

  God, she’d missed him doing that.

  Nice guy that he was, he waited for her to take a few deep, shaky breaths before he lobbed what sounded like a grade-school mathematical word problem at her: “Did you know that even with eight green lights, three open-to-interpretation stop sign ‘rolling stops,’ a steady five-miles-over-the-speed-limit rate on the I-17, and a good four-minute stretch on the 101 Highway where I forgot to even look at the speedometer, it still took me a little over an hour to get here from my loft?”

  Oy, the man and his stats and figures. She replied with a wholly warranted silent stare.

  “Well, it does,” he continued seriously, “and during that time, I made four phone calls.”

  Okaaay. She was still lost, but, per usual, everything from her neck down was responding rather predictably to Jackson in full sexy-smarty mode so she just hung on for the ride, trying to figure out where they were headed.

  “The first call I made was to Caleb’s wife, Kelly, who, as I’m sure you’ve heard over one of your occasional lunch outings or ‘spot oftea’ visits, is now the highest-ranking officer and senior-most board member in Grayhurst Industries, following the immediate dismissal of two other board members who’d been in bed with Nate and his illegal dealings.”

  It was true. After jaunty ol’ Caleb stopped suspecting her of being a sidekick to a psychopath or corporat
e spy, he and his equally sweet and brilliantly business-savvy wife became like parental figures she saw pretty regularly, and simply adored to pieces.

  The mere reference to the pair inspired an affectionate grin as he continued, “I had Kelly assemble an emergency board meeting so I could submit a request for their consideration. Sometime during that 101 Highway stretch in Scottsdale I mentioned earlier.”

  When his grin transformed into a full-blown megawatt smile, Leila was emotionally speechless at the sight of it. She’d meant every word she’d written in her letter to Jackson. She just wanted him to be happy. Period. And clearly, whatever he’d requested of the board was helping to do just that. “Are you allowed to tell me what you asked for, or is it some kind of big secret?”

  “I can absolutely tell you, seeing as how you play a fairly key role in their agreement.” He cleared his throat sheepishly. “Also, full disclosure, ‘ask’ may be too generous a term here. It was more a…multiple choice situation where I essentially gave the board only two options: First option, they could guarantee me seventeen weeks off every year beginning next year, during which time, Caleb—who is by far one of the most well-regarded CEOs in the company’s history—would be brought back to stand in as substitute CEO in my absences. And, by the by, just in case you were needing more reasons to gush over Caleb, he had stepped down as CEO to avoid a conflict of interest when Kelly was in line for a board member seat decades ago, and also to be a stay-at-home dad so she could have her chance to set the corporate world on fire.”

  Ah, he knew her so well. Leila was practically swooning over the modern-day Prince Charming tale.

  Jackson gave her an adorable male frown. “Okay, enough of that. I don’t want to have to start disliking the man.”

  Leila contained her amusement and returned them back to his board request. “What was the second option you gave them?”

  “Option Two was that they could find a new CEO—a position Caleb adamantly refused to even consider taking.”

  Her approving amusement and elation burst through finally. “I’m taking a wild guess here, but have you perhaps decided to put in a bid to buy the Arizona Hawks?”

  “Why, yes I have.”

  Lordy, she’d missed seeing his eyes dance like that.

  The reporter in her demanded she continue her interrogation and not get distracted by the reminder of how hypnotic his eyes were, especially behind those sexy frameless glasses.

  “And these seventeen weeks you’ll be taking off each year,” she somehow managed to continue. “Is there a clause preventing you from taking all seventeen weeks at once?”

  “What an excellent question. You know, my board probably should’ve added a clause like that before approving my request.”

  Her shoulders were shaking with laughter now. “You don’t think they’re going to have a slight problem with you taking off seventeen weeks in a row during the NFL regular season to be with your team every week?”

  “Oh, I’m sure they’d have a problem with something like that. Luckily, that’s not my reason for taking the seventeen weeks off, and I made sure to explain that to the board.”

  Leila did a double take. “If not to be with your team each week, why would you need that time off?”

  “Don’t get me wrong, if I am fortunate enough to get to purchase the Hawks, I’ll go to every game, of course. But that’s just one day a week. For the rest of the time, as long as it’s okay with her, I’d like to spend those seventeen weeks traveling with my wife, who I hear”—he lightly tapped on the envelope she was holding—“could be helping to train the next generation of NFL reporters starting next year.”

  Her whole body stilled in astonishment. For a couple of reasons.

  “Which brings us to the second phone call I made following the board meeting,” he bulldozed right along. “The board actually had a very intense discussion about who exactly I should call next. Eventually, they narrowed it down to four premiere jewelers—Graff Diamonds, De Beers, Harry Winston, and Jean Dousset. My second phone call was thus to my assistant, asking her to have all four jewelry shops on standby.”

  The fact that Leila only recognized one of those names didn’t stop her heartbeat from picking up speed.

  “Then my next phone call was to your parents’ home.”

  Well, that was unexpected. And a bit of a mood-killer, frankly. Sure, it was romantic in the movies when the guy went to go talk to a girl’s father before proposing, but when the father in question was Leila’s, it almost seemed…ill fitting.

  “Don’t worry, I didn’t talk to your jackass of a father,” reassured Jackson with a scowl. “I mean, if you want the sorry excuse for a parent to walk you down the aisle at our wedding, I’ll be on board, but if we or our kids never have to see the man again, it’ll be just fine with me.”

  Our wedding.

  Our kids.

  Leila promptly melted into a puddle of emotions on the ground.

  Sheer curiosity eventually helped her find her voice again. “If you weren’t calling for my father, who were you looking for?”

  “Your mother. I called to tell her that I would buy her any ring from the four jewelers…in exchange for your grandmother’s ring.”

  Leila didn’t even realize she was crying until Jackson reached up to gently wipe away her tears. “I know how important your grandmother was to you. I wanted you to have her be a part of our marriage vows so you could keep her with you for the rest of our lives.”

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tight. “Your grandmother’s ring is on its way over here by armored courier as we speak.” Tilting her chin up to lock his gaze on hers, he admitted roughly, “But honestly, I can’t wait that long. Not even the five more hours it’ll take to get here. So, if I promise to do this right somewhere infinitely romantic with a thousand movie-perfect details, could you please say yes first, now, before I go completely insane?”

  Candid, unbridled love overtook his features. “I love you more than I’ll ever be able to put into words, more than I’ll ever be able to do justice with any grand romantic gesture. And I swear to you, I’ll spend every day of my life loving you more, period. Because you, Leila Hart…you are the very definition of happiness where my life is concerned. Without you, I don’t think I’d even know what true happiness would feel like.”

  He pulled out the letter she’d written, clutching it as if it were the greatest treasure he’d ever known. “For months now, I’ve tried to figure out how to ensure your future would hold every bit of greatness you deserve, every type of happiness imaginable. During all that time, I never allowed myself to stop to think about what would or could have even a remote chance of making me happy. But then I read your letter. When I finally stopped to actually think about what would constitute a happy life for me, every single answer I could come up with had you in it. You and our own unique off-white picket future….You taking the world by storm every NFL season….You being the last face I see every night and the first I see every morning….You at the heart and soul of the new family legacy of happiness I want to pass on to our kids.”

  Drawing in a shaky breath, he confessed emotionally, “Honestly, after seeing all those answers, all those possibilities for my life, everything seemed…colorless in comparison. The thought of not being able to have that life, that future? Slayed me. I knew then that I hadn’t truly understood what you’d meant about not being able to settle for anything less than that. I do now. Because of you.”

  He rested his forehead against hers and whispered again, “So please say yes. Make me the happiest man I could possibly be. Say yes so I can spend my lifetime doing my absolute best to make you as happy as you make me. So we can—”

  “Yes, Jackson,” she broke in, unable to hold back through any more of his unbelievably romantic proposal. “Yes to all of it. Because I couldn’t bear to settle for a life without you in it. Before I met you, my grandmother was the only one who’d ever loved me unconditionally. You…you not on
ly love me unconditionally, but boundlessly, undefinably, as well. You may think that I define happiness for you, but you, Jackson Gray, continue to redefine love for me. In more ways than I’m sure I’ll ever be able to predict. In ways definitions haven’t even been invented to describe yet. I’m saying yes to all of it.”

  His hands were in her hair a moment later, his mouth sealing over hers in a turbulent, soulful kiss that had her ears ringing and knees buckling.

  A chorus of loud car horn honking and rowdy hoots and hollers from the street was the only thing reminding them that they were out in public.

  They both turned to see Bennett standing there with Nick and Donovan.

  Bennett, looking massively proud of himself, called out, “By the way, sweetums, remember how I told you I’d found a reasonably priced storage unit and that all they needed was a small deposit? As building superintendent of said units, I forgot to inform you I’m also going to need you to sign a standard waiver before you put anything into Jackson’s assigned storage space in the basement. You know, just in case you trip over giant boxes of porn, that sort of thing—who knows what Jackson has down there. Oh, and as far as the deposit goes, I hear you bake a mean pie. I prefer pecan, but apple is fine. I’ll change the locks on you if you make me anything with the word ‘meringue’ in it. See that you have it on my doorstep by tomorrow morning.”

  Leila was holding her middle and cracking up by the time he was done.

  Jackson meanwhile was exhaling an exasperated but smiling sigh. Shaking his head, he muttered, “That guy just has way too much time on his hands. We need to find him a woman.”

  Leila turned and dropped another kiss on Jackson’s lips. “Funny you mention that. I actually know a woman—you know her too, in fact—who is a hundred percent different from any woman he’s ever dated or wanted to date…which thus, makes her the perfect match for him, in my humble opinion.”

  Jackson’s brows furrowed in thought. When he continued to look stumped, she knew his brain had glossed over the woman she was thinking about—the one mutual friend they had that anyone in their right mind would classify as a total impossibility for Bennett.