Love's Inconvenient Truth Read online

  “On second thought…” I murmured to the waitress. “I’ll take a Lemon Drop…more on the sour side.”

  I noticed Jackson’s grimace mixed with amusement.

  “You just said I’m a senior account manager now. I know those stiff asses order alcohol on the firm’s dime and clock,” I informed while plucking a brow. I’d been to enough luncheons with Susan to know.

  Jackson unflappably and defensively raised his palms, highlighting the flexibility in his personality.

  After a few beats, he asked, “So, are you ready?”

  My annoyance resurged. “Of course I am, Jackson. I was built for this. I’ll prove it to you.”

  “I don’t doubt you have good arguments and pitches, theoretically,” he exhaled softly as he gazed into the distance behind me introspectively. “It’s just that I’ve known Erika for a number of years now. And she’s…different from a woman like you.”

  “How am I?” I was trying not to get offended, but what the hell did that mean?

  “Let’s start with what she is. Erika’s a delicate girlie-girl. She’s smarter than she gives herself credit for and appears extremely confident on camera—still and motion—but she wants to be liked by all and wears her feelings on her sleeves. You,” Okay…now we were talking. Why the hell do you care what this guy thinks of you, Elle? “…are less dependent on the need of others’ approval. You are a straight to the point and very little else type of woman. The type of woman that can easily intimidate…or in this case, offend another woman with a more delicate balance.” He was measuring his words, trying to avoid upsetting me.

  “I can do delicate. I’m not insensitive, Jackson.”

  There was a pause. I didn’t know what he was turning over, but by the way he sat up in his chair, widening his shoulders, I could tell he wasn’t going to follow up that comment. And so I pushed.

  “Why would you think I’d be too harsh with her?”

  He snorted…sexily. “Because I’ve seen you.”

  “You have not. Having me on your team for these few short weeks doesn’t give you the full spectrum of the flexibility of my personality.”

  “It goes beyond your seat on my team…”

  Is he saying because he slept with me once—well, more than once, but on one occasion—that he knows me?

  “You don’t know me, Jackson,” I asserted.

  My drink arrived along with our food, which pumped the breaks on our conversation for a moment. Jackson thanked the server and waitress before they left, and I took the biggest gulp of my drink, loving the burn down my tube. It wasn’t until I opened my lids and noticed Jackson’s intense gaze upon me that I realized I was nervous about this Erika pitch. In a flash, Jackson shut his eyes slowly and popped them open again before taking to his plate. It was entrancing and unnerving at the same time. I didn’t know how to take that, so I began eating my damn self.

  “Jax,” I heard from above our table.

  I peered up to find an older woman dressed in all ivory. Her pashmina caped perfectly, and clutched in the crux of her right arm was a burnt orange Birkin bag. While there was a youthful gleam in her eyes, there was an undeniable tenor of maturity in her voice. She appeared tall and because I was sitting down, I couldn’t best gauge. Then Jackson glanced up, recognizing the woman, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and stood to greet her with a swift cheek-to-cheek as he hugged her. That’s when I noticed she was just a couple of inches shorter than him.

  “Beatrice, how are you?” he asked in a conversant manner, I could tell.

  Her eyes immediately went soft and…hooded when she gazed into his eyes. I watched as her tongue dipped over her top lip, seductively. She batted her eyes, seemingly nervous. It was clear to me Jackson had fucked this woman. What was even more glaring a thought was their age differential. She had to be middle-aged, at least.

  “You never returned my call about next week’s gala.” She couldn’t stop blushing.

  “I’ve been busy with work,” Jackson returned while swinging between his heels and toes. I could even see the tightening of his jaw.

  “Well, it’s not too late to answer,” she pushed.

  “Beatrice, dear, I don’t have my calendar here with me, so there’s no answer I can supply at the moment. As it is,” he gestured to me as I hunched over my plate, eavesdropping. “I’m in the middle of a business luncheon.”

  “Oh,” she cupped her mouth without touching it. “My sincerest apologies. I didn’t mean to disturb…” She gave me a onceover so distasteful for someone her age. “…business. I’ll be on then. Please don’t forget to ring me with your answer. I really hope you can make it, doll.”

  I watched as she turned in to Jackson and mechanically, he stepped back, giving her a path to pass him with no formal or intimate goodbye—the one I believed she was going for. She froze in place, noticing Jackson’s cold regard. Within seconds, she was able to pick up her ego and pass by him, and as she did, Jackson gave her a bidding nod.

  He sat down to continue his lunch, and I followed suit. I had no idea what to say about that odd exchange, so I focused on my plate of food. Each time I braved a glance at him, I found his typical ruminative scowl. Why is he always so preoccupied, and seemingly unhappy? After a while, the silence became too thick. The alcohol took to my bloodstream and along with it, my anxieties and audacious nature spiked.

  “You’re not the one to talk about a lack of sensitivity,” I murmured, then chanced a glance up to find Jackson’s food suspended in the air, right in front of his mouth.

  That mouth.

  Shit!

  “Come again?” his baritone rumbled.

  I took a sip of my drink to clear my mouth before speaking.

  “Two of your…lovers—because I can’t determine if either is your official girlfriend—surprise you at work, only to have you dismiss them immediately. You didn’t even allow them time to remove their coats…or sit.” My face was partially angled to the table; I didn’t have the heart that one might think I did, speaking to my boss like that and all.

  The most sexy and roguish grin appeared on his face as his eyebrows wrinkled. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the man himself, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from his magnetic countenance. This was why I typically did not look him in the face unless I was annoyed, which could be often.

  “Are you flirting with me? Fishing for information about my…love life?” he snorted.

  I dropped my fork in my plate, creating a clashing ring in our vicinity. “Hell no! I would—”

  “Well, why are you circuitously asking about women visiting me at my place of business?”

  “I’m not,” I whispered forcefully, glancing around our table to see if anyone heard this ridiculous conversation. “I’m no more flirting with you than what you do to me when you stare at me like that!” I fought to keep my volume controlled.

  “Oh…” he angled his head so as to draw his ear closer to me, rubbing that spot underneath his bottom lip, above his chin. “Flirting with you?” Jackson then placed his fork in his plate and sat up in his chair. “Let’s make some things clear. One: Neither of those women were my girlfriend. I don’t have a girlfriend. Two: If you find something strange about the way I look at you, it’s just me disciplining myself to keep with our agreement of forgetting that night at Gild Hall. So, no, I’m not flirting with you. I don’t flirt. I request. Trust me, when and if I do make a request of you, Elle, you’ll know.”

  My face fell. My nipples tightened. My mouth went dry. And my vagina squeezed.

  Jackson’s eyes turned dark; not in an evil way. In a heavy and hooded manner. Then in an instant, he looked away, attempting a distraction. When his eyes returned to me, all of the heat from them had vanished.

  “What are your selling points?”

  “Excuse me?” Because you just left me at the corner of hot and heavy back there.

  “For Erika,” he went back to his lunch as he spoke. “Why should she sign with Dynamic Branding?
”

  I didn’t spend too much time in stupor land. I pulled myself together and gave Jackson my pitch. He sat and listened raptly to my ideas for my approach to Erika Erceg, making me momentarily forget the near fuck me experience we’d just exchanged. I pitched and sipped…pitched and sipped. My ideas were conceived and articulated with clarity. Persuasion came naturally to me. Always.

  Once I was done, the waitress happened to come over and offered to refill my cocktail. Before I could even answer, Jackson nodded his head and asked that his water be refilled, too. Then he took over the conversation, providing feedback based upon his experience with Erika, her mother and sister. His advice was straight to the point and I made note of each and every nugget.

  And when he was through, my sound response was, “All duly noted. Consider Ms. Erceg a member of the Dynamic Branding family, because when I get through with her, even her sister will be begging for placement on the DB roster.”

  Arrogant, I know, but my usual confidence mixed with the alcohol had me feeling I could conquer the world. I knew that I could score this woman. I’d already begun my vetting of her. Already understood the weak elasticity of the circle she moved in. Her friends were just as easy to break down and calculate as she was. I could do this.

  Jackson’s mainstay scowl was in play as he gave me a lingered glare and nod. I could tell even through my inebriation that he was somewhat irresolute of my flamboyant confidence.

  Oh ye of little faith!

  When we were done, Jackson and I waited outside for the car service he used to get us to the restaurant. Jackson stood just behind me to my right, engaged in his phone. In my tipsy state, I contently enjoyed observing people beating the pavement to their respective destinations. I took in the energy of the city: the humming motors of the cars, sounds of the whistles made by uniformed officers on horses, drones of distant chatter and those in close proximity, the automated voice of buses’ P.A. systems instructing passengers, various music pouring from passing vehicles…all the sounds that made up New York City.

  Somehow, my mind traveled to Summer Stage a few weeks ago when I saw Lalah Hathaway perform. Her pitches were on point and she rifted. A breeze was present and flowing through my open toes, and the sun amenable while the liquor zinged through my body, creating the perfect zone. I was able to close my eyes and experience bliss on another level.

  I was so caught up in a daydream that I didn’t hear the graveling of the skateboarder zooming past me, knocking me off kilter. I tried to level my sway in my heels. It was an unsuccessful attempt and I was a downer until I crashed into warm and solid arms engulfing me.

  “Holy sh—”

  “Stupid ass!” I heard roaring from Jackson, who was now mere centimeters from my ear. His musk, flooding my nostrils had my head spinning way too fast. “You okay?”

  Jackson was in a squatting position, holding my trembling frame. His brows were wrinkled per usual, but the lids just above his ember orbs were perceptibly relaxed. I smelled Jackson. I saw Jackson. I felt Jackson. All of my senses were saturated with Jackson. I even felt his spearmint breath crashing tantalizingly against my flushed face. We remained suspended in that position for what seemed like hours. My breathing was harsh—distressed even. Something was going on. Something was being transmitted and I fought like hell not to acknowledge it. I couldn’t; my damn breasts were perked in the air, nipples tight as pebbles and my sex clenched like the rhythm of the heart.

  Sex?

  Heart?

  Heck no!

  “You want to bypass the coquettish bullshit? Well, here’s my request. I want to reestablish our rules of engagement,” he breathed into my face.

  I knew my eyes fluttered. I couldn’t help myself. But what was he talking about?

  “We can maintain a professional relationship for the business of the day. Aside from that, we can explore each other physically.”

  I struggled to find my breath while still suspended in the air with my weight fully pressed into his arm below my back.

  “That’s impossible and you know it. We agreed,” I reminded him.

  “It isn’t impossible if we can agree to limit our interactions to both business and physical activities. It only becomes impossible when someone wants more than that. I’m a man of my word, Elle. I don’t need much beyond work and fucking,” that last word was the cause of the lubrication I felt in my panties.

  I needed to stop this. To end what could have easily turned into one of the biggest mistakes he’d ever make, and one of the stupidest for me.

  “Hear me, Jackson: I am not the kind of woman you want to get involved with like this. What happened a couple of weeks ago was manageable because we left it there. But let me be clear with you, I am not the type of woman you want this type of agreement with.”

  “Why? I don’t exactly see you as the begging for chocolate and lingerie type,” he snorted.

  I swallowed hard when his minty breath invaded my nostrils.

  “Not at all. But I’m also not the fresh bed of roses you’d enjoy falling into, believing it to be a perfectly packaged arrangement. I’ve got issues, Jackson. Demons that a man your age should be running from, not to.” I licked my dry lips, trying to summon the words to make him understand. He was so handsome and the earnest gleam in his eyes resounded in my chest.

  Something inexplicable, deep within wanted to protect him. From me. “I’m not the trophy fuck you brag about to your boys. I’m more like the guilty jerkoff material you stash underneath the mattress when you’re done. You don’t want more than business with me. Believe me.” I could hardly hear my shaky voice. If he were not so close, I’d question his ability to hear it himself.

  Jackson swiftly let me up and held on to me until I was steady on my feet. His glower had that quickly changed to something more contemplative. I didn’t know what more to say, so I said nothing.

  “Car’s here, sir,” the valet shouted to Jackson, who never acknowledged him. His eyes never left me.

  He straightened his tailored blue suit jacket and smoothed down his lavender tie as he gazed at me. A slow and appealing smile blossomed over his handsome face. Jackson gaited over to the waiting car, opened the door, and waited for me to join him.

  “After you,” he murmured.

  When I inched past him, he muttered while staring into the distance, “I’m not expecting an immediate answer, but I do request immediate consideration. I want you again, beneath me.”

  I paused for a moment, taking in all of his words before shuffling into the car. Jackson entered right after me and we immediately pulled off. My buzz was gone, yet my mind ran one hundred miles a second. I couldn’t believe his nerve.

  We rode for mere minutes before he uttered, again not facing me, “And for the record, I have too much dark shit stashed underneath my mattress to share with my boys. Sounds like your demons would fit in my haunted closet with the rest of my iniquities.”

  I had no idea how to take that so, again, I said nothing.

  I was shitting bricks, pores secreting liquids of my anxiety. My mouth was dry and knees wouldn’t keep still. I didn’t have a plan. I had no clue as to how I was going to get out of this. Before leaving my apartment this morning, I thought to pray, but then realized those requests weren’t granted for me; just the fundamentalist types.

  What to do?

  Marie was to my right, giving an update on her meeting with Blackboard Scratchers. I could tell she was closing her summary. Shit! What am I going to do? Jackson was standing at the other end of the table, his long arms were crossed at his chest and one hand cupped his chin, contemplatively.

  “So, yeah. Blackboard Scratchers are considering my proposal. And that hot ass Thax couldn’t keep his eyes off my boobs that I made sure were in clear view,” Marie ended her reporting.

  “Okay,” Bridgette exhaled as she jotted down a few notes. And folks gave short words of approval to Marie. “You’re up, Elle,” she notified as she continued tapping away on her tablet.
“Tell us how you murdered the Erika E. acquisition.”

  Shit! I licked my lips again, for some insane reason, given how dry my mouth was. I had no liquids to borrow from. I’m going to lose my job was the mantra echoing in my head.

  Jackson’s phone went off and he excused himself to take the call.

  It was a week after my lunch meeting with Jackson about my trip, and we were at his home, which turned out to be our regular thing on Saturdays. I’d just returned from Simi Valley, California the night before, meeting with Erika Erceg. I wasn’t feeling good about my pitch to her. Erika, as beautiful as she was with her size four physique, big boobs, the roundest and most robust ass, and small waist, was extremely porcelain in personality. Erika was a tad superficial and soft spoken, constantly looking for ways to make you comfortable in her presence. I could tell she was observant enough to discern my to-the-point, no-bullshit, and concise mannerisms.

  While allowed a moment of reprieve, I sat and recalled my time with Erika.

  It all started with me being frustrated from sitting in an empty suite, waiting for her. Yeah… She arranged for me to meet her privately in a luxury boutique hotel and I arrived just fifteen minutes early, practicing professionalism. Her assistant welcomed me in and sat me in the living room, assuring that Erika would be there momentarily. Well, twenty-five minutes turned into forty-five and that into an hour and fifteen minutes. I’d helped myself to the bar after the thirty-five mark. When she came barreling through the door, Erika was gorgeous as ever, in an ensemble that wasn’t exactly gothic simply because it was all ivory. A long fitted skirt that stopped at her ankles, a fur vest that matched and an ivory Celine bag to top it off. I found her bag strange because over the past year or so, she hadn’t been photo’d with anything more than her phone or daughter, South. Her minimal accessories were a delicate trace of gold jewelry.