by Jane Linfoot
‘How is this going to help my image?’ Sometimes he doubted Dan’s judgement, big time.
‘Lads’ mag charity calendar. Note the word “charity”. All in the best taste, which is why we’re using your gracious Georgian home as the backdrop.’
‘This is yours and Phoebe’s home, not mine, Dan.’ Jackson, irritated, felt compelled to point this out. ‘I live in the flat over the garage.’ Not wanting to be pedantic, but it was true.
‘You’re the owner, it’s not my fault you’d rather camp out in the handyman’s quarters.’ Dan stuffed his hands into his pockets. ‘For God’s sake, Jackson, what the hell got into you? Just think of the women as ironic, get your kit off and play nice.’
Five-thirty on a Friday; nowhere he wanted to be less. Naked except for his Calvin’s, ten women clambering all over his body, taking instructions from a photographer who made camp sound mainstream. Jackson drew in a breath and shuddered as Ricardo’s shrill set the chandelier jangling. Again.
‘Okay. I want a forest-of-limbs shot!’ Ricardo clapped his hands. ‘Girls, legs wide and interlocking, spread those arms, Jackson, dart through those branches darling!’
‘Holy crap.’ Jackson cursed under his breath. He’d worked with Ricardo before, and the results were usually spectacular, but a man had his limits and he was pretty close to his.
‘Fabuloso. And relax.’
Not that you could relax, when a Nikon was being pointed at your groin by a guy from Bolton, who used words like ‘fabuloso’. Jackson gritted his teeth.
Ricardo shook away a waterfall of fringe, spiralled a finger in the air. ‘Okay, let’s get down and dirty. Jackson on the stairs, girls coming at you from all sides, all hands on the guy.’ Ricardo clattered by, ruffling Jackson’s hair as he passed. ‘Nice and rough, Sweetie, okay?’
Twenty hands. Twenty pointy strapped up boobs. Not to mention someone’s thigh slapped under his chin. The perfect moment for Cherry to walk right on in, led by Dan, who should have had more sense. What the hell was wrong with the back door?
‘Bryony’s just flown in with Cressy. Did you hear the helicopter?’ Dan’s cover-all announcement made Jackson grimace. Obvious that Dan wasn’t here because of his PR skills.
Bryony took two steps across the tiled hallway and skidded to a halt. Windswept, wrapped up, muddy. Real, exuberant, delicious. Forget the twenty models with their limbs variously draped over him, one glimpse of Cherry, and Jackson wanted to rush down the staircase and sweep her into his arms. His heart hammered on his chest, and his blood surged south. Instant. Immediate. Anywhere but there. Caveman on a mission, and a hard-on that seriously challenged the flimsy fabric of his boxers. He registered her startle as she took in the scene and her eyes widened. Not what she’d expected, then, but for the first time in his life the element of surprise was putting him at a disadvantage.
Her nostrils flared, as she regained her composure. ‘Ten out of ten for the impressive location.’ She spun a mocking smile towards Jackson. ‘Although, it seems I’m overdressed for this particular party.’
‘It’s a photo-shoot.’ He shoved out an explanation, then remembered who he was talking to. ‘But you’ll have gathered that.’ His eyes followed hers, as they locked onto his erection. How the hell she’d found that in the forest of female limbs was anyone’s guess. And now she was going to draw the wrong conclusion, dammit.
She gave one don’t-give-a-damn head toss, but her brows, descending like a thunder-cloud told a different story.
Dan butted in. ‘We’ve got a fast turnaround, the cars will be here to pick us up in thirty minutes. Phoebe’s upstairs, she’ll show you your rooms, ladies.’
Passing on the stairs was not the best of ideas, despite the stately-home dimensions. The group of bodies collectively inhaled to let Dan and Cressy past, then Cherry followed. Her scent hit Jackson when she was still two steps down, turning his legs weak. As she drew level, he raised one eyebrow, meeting her deep-blue gaze. Pure ice-fire. A nanosecond was all it took to read the wrath, and clock that he was in deep shit here. His insides were torched, but he had to look again. She was here, and he couldn’t take her eyes off her. If looks could kill… Except now it wasn’t him she was dead-eyeing, it was the women draped over him, who were getting the slayer treatment. Looked like Bryony could happily rip them apart, limb from limb. Her jaw clenched as she swallowed, and his heart soared.
She was wild. Yes. Wildly jealous. Which meant she did give a damn after all. His veins filled with hot syrup as she sniffed, bowled him the scowl of the decade, then bolted up the stairs.
‘Catch you later, Cherry.’ One gruff statement of intent, and damn that he wanted to hurl his Calvin’s in the air and throw himself after her in one joy-fuelled leap.
Chapter 36
It had taken an age for the limo to negotiate the Friday evening traffic and deposit them at the end of the red carpet under the imposing arched windows and monumental stone facade of the city centre’s most salubrious hotel. Only now, as they wove their way across the marble floor of the immense entrance hall and Cressy peeled away into the crowd of other guests, did Jackson find the chance to slide up close enough to growl into Cherry’s ear.
‘Impressive enough for you, Cherry?’
‘Not bad.’ She cocked her chin, looked up at the lights that spangled the lofty stairwell. ‘I like the way the old front of the building changes to new, and suddenly it’s all floor-to-ceiling glass and stainless steel.’
Okay. Sounding like an architecture correspondent, but the talking had to be an improvement on her arctic silence. His mouth watered as he clocked the column of her neck, vulnerable and exposed now her hair was swept up, and he wished he didn’t want to bite it quite so much. And damn that the only way he could imagine that shimmering grey silk sheath of a dress was pooled on the floor at her feet. ‘So, I take it you did your undie-ironing, Cherry, given the importance of the evening?’ He drew close behind her now, brought a guiding hand close enough to the small of her back to feel her heat on his palm.
She twisted round to deliver her retort. ‘As if I’d ruin a dress like this with a panty line.’
‘Right.’ Point to Cherry. He made an effort to pick his jaw up off the floor, and tried to unglue his eyes from those full lips of hers, tried to stop twisting the foil pack in his jacket pocket. ‘What colour do you call that lipstick then?’
‘Raspberry pie, or plum crush. I forget which.’ She screwed him a narrow-eyed glance. ‘Although after this afternoon, I’d have thought you’d be the expert on panty lines.’
Just the right amount of huffy to show she cared. He gave a low laugh. ‘You wouldn’t be jealous would you? Sexy women with their hands on my body, when you want a piece all for yourself?’
‘Jealous?’ Her yelp followed her chin towards the ceiling, and the woman next to them jumped to stare at them, then looked away again. ‘Not in a million years, Jackson.’
‘I love the way your shoulders go up when you’re annoyed.’ He lowered his voice and splashed a grin through her fury. ‘So worth the tease.’ The sooner he cleared the air with Cherry, the better. Just a question of where, given the bustling throng of guests around them, and the transparent lift. ‘Come on, we’ll go up by the fire escape stairs.’ He slid his fingers through hers, and tugged her down a side corridor.
‘Still hiding out from the press, then.’ She gave a sniff, but held his hand tightly. ‘Not the most logical place to come if you’re press-shy.’
‘There are plenty more interesting targets here than me.’ He gave a shrug, came to a halt outside an open door, then bundled her through it. Managers’ Rest Room? Just the place. He spun her into the half-light, and backed her against the wall next to a filing cabinet, wincing as her hip grazed his hard-on. ‘There are things we need to sort out.’
‘What? Like your exciting afternoon?’ She thrust her chin upwards again, the tension in her body holding him at bay.
Whoa. Not exactly what he’d been thinking,
but given the venom she was spitting, it might be a good place to begin. She’d brought it up again, so it must have riled her. He stifled the smile of pure gratification that was threatening to split across his face. He couldn’t help but like Cherry’s fierce possessiveness.
‘That was work, and if you must know, it left me cold.’ A shock to him too, that he hadn’t felt so much as a flicker of lust until she walked through the door.
She gave a derisive snort. ‘You looked aroused enough from where I was standing. Calvin Klein’s and tent poles spring to mind.’
Nothing like being put on the spot. He dragged in a breath. Making excuses for virals on YouTube would have been so much easier.
‘That happened as you walked in the door. I saw you, and zap.’ He gave a shamefaced grimace. ‘You’re going to have to trust me on this one. I promise, whatever you saw, it was all yours.’
Her nostrils twitched. ‘Nice try. I believe you, thousands wouldn’t.’ She didn’t meet his eye, but from the secret smile that was playing around her lips he’d guess she liked what she heard. ‘So, you said you want to talk?’ Her eyes slid upwards, locked onto his and sent his gut into free fall.
‘Talk, and…’ His voice caught in his throat, as he drank in her scent, took one step forward, rubbed a thumb along her jaw. Aching to hold her here. ‘It might be good to reconnect.’
‘Aha…’
Sensing a thaw here. Slowly, he wove his fingers between the folds of her pinned up hair and she juddered towards him. One silky breast rubbed his lapel, he dragged in the warmth rising from the shadow of her cleavage. Snaking an arm behind her back, he pulled her towards him. Warm, firm, vibrant and so damned alive. Tugging on her hair, he dragged her head back, until that perfect raspberry-crush pout parted. Desperate to crash his mouth over hers, but he had to make himself wait. He teased the corner of her lip with his tongue, to measure her resistance. Heard the shudder as she hauled in a breath, felt her breasts heave towards him as she filled her lungs, then her pelvis ground forward, hit his erection and rocketed him to who knows where.
‘God, I’ve missed you, Cherry.’ The only thing he’d promised himself he wouldn’t say, spilled out against her neck.
He watched her mouth twitch, then her fingers closed on his hair, prised into his scalp and sent an ice-shower down his spine. Then he was crashing his lips onto hers, and she came right out to meet him. All cherry sweetness, and plum warmth, tumbling his body, making his head spin as she sucked him in. The heat of her body pulsed under the slippery silk of her dress, her breasts arching towards him, hungry, desperate, demanding, making what went down before look like kindergarten. The snog of his life made his guts churn, set his heart banging like a jack-hammer and rocketed his already-burning libido into the stratosphere.
He pulled away to drag in some air. ‘You’ve no idea how much I needed that.’ Took in one thigh, slicing through the split of her dress, one high-heeled strappy sandal. Sexy as hell. Delicious pink toe nails.
She already had the heel of her hand hard against the end of him, tugging at his fly. He put a hand over hers to restrain her. ‘Not here.’ One kiss to clear the air, and she already had him on his knees. ‘And we’re due upstairs.’ Hurling out every sane reason in the book, knowing he didn’t mean a single one, he dipped in for another hot deep kiss.
Knowing as their mouths locked that he was aching to devour her here and now, but hesitating. No way did he want her to walk out of here feeling cheap – Cherry was worth so much more than a quick shag in a back office.
‘No…’ He put his hand down to restrain hers, as her fingers closed around him and squeezed him to the first stage of heaven. ‘I want to wait, do it properly.’
‘But I need you.’ She groaned against him. ‘Like, now.’ His heart slammed into overdrive she thrust her hand into his jacket pocket. Pulled out one foil packet, biting her lip as she held it up, her low voice slurred with need. ‘Jackson Gale, never without.’
They needed to go, he should be strong, should say ‘no’, but the word jammed in his throat.
‘Undo me. Please.’ She spun around, her eyes pleading. ‘It won’t take long.’ From the urgent grating of her voice, she was as desperate as him.
Grey silk. Spilled over an office chair, not pooling on the floor. Even as it happened he knew it would stay with him forever. Cherry, half closing her eyes, lips parted. Leaning back, bending up those achingly perfect legs as he rested her ass on the desk. Watching him, her pupils hazy with desire as he unzipped all the way. That blurry half smile as she knew he was going to give her just what she was aching for. The way she was hot and sticky, oh-so-ready to suck him in, the way she snatched her breath as he parted her, clamped onto him as he slid inside her. And the way when he was up to the hilt, and she gave that familiar groan of pleasure, a strange and deep satisfaction swept over him, because it felt like he was coming home. Then pulling slowly in and out, her insides closing around him like hot velvet, her sticky scent driving him way past wild. Turning him further on than he’d ever been. Loving the way she disintegrated. She threw her head backwards in slow motion, her face contorting into one long ecstatic cry. And her frenzied contractions milking him, until he poured himself into her in one crazy orgasmic explosion.
‘You’re sure my hair’s okay?’ Bryony fiddled with the clips, emerging into the foyer, feeling like everyone was staring at her.
‘Hair looks fine to me but then I’m not an expert, and given what your dress is highlighting, there’s no way I’m going to be looking at your hair.’ Jackson straightened his tie, nipped his shirt behind his belt, the creases slicing down his cheeks as he grinned making her heart lurch. Not helpful at all.
‘I’d rather not look like I’ve just been snogged senseless against the wall.’ That was a glaring euphemism too, but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to say shagged witless on the desk. Right now she had no idea what just came over her back there.
‘You should have thought of that before you threw yourself at me.’ He whisked out of the way of her swipe. ‘Sorry, but those pink cheeks are a total giveaway – that and the way you’re looking at me like you want to eat me. Then there’s your smile the width of the hotel entrance hall; talking of which, maybe we’ll take the lift after all, now it’s quieter.’ He slid an arm around her hip, filling her air with his scent all over again, as he steered her through the foyer. Clean, raw man. A hint of body spray. He raised his eyebrows pensively. ‘I’m pleased you’re talking to me again, at least.’
Talking? Ever the man for an understatement. It wasn’t the talking that was the problem, it was the way she’d dived straight down his throat. How the hell did she get sucked back in so fast, when she’d promised herself she’d keep her distance? She’d spent the last two weeks weaning herself off him, aching because of the gaping chasm that opened up in her life when he left, desperate not to open herself up to hurt again. Five minutes alone with him – if you counted being at an event with five hundred guests as being alone – and she was already a goner. So, what the heck happened?
Beside her Jackson ran a finger along his collar, where his tan met the sharp white of his shirt. Readjusted the lapels of his tux. And there she had her answer. One look at how this guy scrubbed up and her best resolutions had gone into meltdown. As for her self-preservation instincts, they’d been overruled by something much more powerful. In the face of competition from those other women, she’d been driven by an undiluted fever to possess him for herself, mark him as hers, which, given the way she ran scared of attachment, was beyond ridiculous.
‘Damn.’ As they moved out into the crowd Jackson jived.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘It’s my brother, Connor, and my Dad. Over there, behind the woman in yellow.’ He inclined his head. ‘Grey haired guy waving his arms, and that’s Connor, looking the other way.
One snatched glance past his shoulder confirmed a profile disturbingly like Jackson’s. ‘He’s much smaller than you, isn’t he?�
�� A lightning appraisal. ‘Way less pretty.’
Jackson’s brow furrowed. ‘I’ve spoken to him, I phoned, like you suggested…when we were in the…’
‘Great.’ She cut him short. That time in the shower was still etched on her brain, some morning that was. She was taken aback he’d remembered, more surprised still he’d acted on what she’d suggested. ‘And how did that go?’ The mental image of those raw scars sent a shiver through her chest even now.
He gave a grimace. ‘Things are better than they were. We almost made our peace. I wasn’t sure they were coming tonight.’ His voice trailed off reticently.
‘Are you going to say hello?’ It was a tentative query, not a push.
‘Maybe, if I can catch Connor’s eye.’ Jackson squinted across the foyer, peering at the pair, then as Connor looked across at them he gave a nod of greeting. ‘He’s seen us; we’re in for an audience, take a deep breath. I’ll apologise in advance for my father. However he behaves, it won’t be good.’
As they threaded their way through the crowd Bryony noted that Connor was slighter than Jackson, with a tan several shades deeper. But as with Nic, although he was different, the family resemblance was undeniable. He looked more wired and nervous than Jackson, and the narrowing of his eyes as they approached hinted at his apprehension.
Jackson threw a mock punch at Connor’s arm. ‘Hey, how’s it going, Con?’
‘Jackson, hi, can’t complain, how about you?’ His tense expression eased a little as his gaze landed one Bryony and he rolled back on his heels. ‘Scrub that question, I can see from your date you’re more than fine. All that happy on the phone a couple of weeks back, now I see why.’ He tipped a slightly forced wink in Bryony’s direction. ‘Am I going to get an introduction, or do I have to wait?’
Despite the striking physical similarities, Connor had none of Jackson’s easy charm.
