CHAPTER NINE
JACKSONSTOPPEDINfront of Cameron’s office door and took a calming breath. She had managed to get through the last few days without succumbing to the temptation of his godlike body. With effort, she’d stayed cool in yesterday’s meeting as Cameron gave her the basics of the security job she’d shadow at an upscale gala. She’d get through this meeting, too.
The problemwas the longer she went, the more time she spent thinking up reasons why she should stop resisting and get one more taste of Cameron before she left. And if she was going to have another no-strings night, there were a few more ideas she was interested in exploring. Judging from the way she caught him looking at her these past few days when no one else was around, he wouldn’t turn her down.
It wasn’t the sex itself she was wary of. But every time they were close, she started reading into all the little things he did. Like remembering what she liked on her sandwich or how she liked her coffee. As if it all meant something more.
But if she could just accept this for what it was—a fling—she could invite him back to her hotel room again. Tonight. Because three nights together weren’tworse than two. Nor were four nights. Or five.
And just like that, she flashed back to that first night, her heart pounding as she stepped into her room. With Cameron behind her, his harsh breaths in her ear, she thought she’d explode before she even got her clothes off. And then there was his apartment, when he’d buried his face between her legs and made her pant and scream.
The heatrushed up the back of her neck. Maybe the problem was that she was remembering these two nights as better than they really were. After a dry year, she must have been hard up. Cameron had stepped in at the right time. Times. And now she’d spent every night since thinking about it. Inflating each time in her mind. If she invited him up to her room for one more night, maybe reality would break this spell,and she could go back to New York satisfied in every way.
More rationalization.
Jackson brushed out the wrinkles in the front of her skirt and stared at the plaque on the door in front of her.Cameron Blackmore, CEO. As if she needed a reminder of who she would find on the other side when she opened it.
She knocked. “Mr. Blackmore?” Jackson peeked her head in. Cameron was facing hiscomputer. His hair had fallen down on his forehead again, begging for someone to come fix it. Lots of ex-military men still wore their hair close-cut, but Cameron’s thick black hair curled around his ears, and she had gotten a good handful of it that night when he... Nope. Shouldn’t be thinking about that at all.
Jackson cleared her throat. “Mr. Blackmore, I just wanted to show you that theinterview ran today.”
He turned to her, and his gaze wandered down, stopping at the open neckline of her shirt. Yep, she had his full attention now. His gaze snapped back up, and his lips formed a tight line.
“Please don’t call me Mr. Blackmore.”
“Right. Cameron,” she said, pulling out her laptop. Hopefully she could keep herself from blushing every time she said his first name.
Jackson opened her laptop on his desk and pulled up a chair beside him. She clicked on the article and a photo appeared of Cameron, Derek, Simon and Max outside the office building, all dressed in black suits and white shirts. They all looked good. And Cameron looked really good.
“The suits were a nice touch, Jackson,” he said. “Thanks.”
She smiled. “You’re welcome. The reporter seemedto like you all. You’re lucky. Some of those answers you gave could’ve been spun in other directions.”
Cameron narrowed his eyes. “Spun? It’s none of anyone’s business why refugee organizations are my giving choice. And you know what I said was true. I finally made it public because someone convinced me that it might bring more money to UNHCR.” He gave her a pointed look and added, “That’syou, in case you don’t remember.”
Jackson rolled her eyes. “Got it. But I meant the other questions. About the women and the less-than-flattering media attention you’ve gotten lately.”
Cameron pushed his chair back and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “That was true, too,” he said. “We serve our clients well.”
Jackson snorted—case in point. But the heat rushed toher face again. Hearing that comment from him shouldn’t sting. She knew what he meant, but she couldn’t help but think about all the women he’d been with. The press clippings suggested there’d been many, and though Cameron had said they didn’t show the whole story, his reputation wasn’t a complete lie, either. It was the reason she’d been sent here in the first place. “That sounds like an admissionof guilt. You’re lucky that guy didn’t run with it.”
Cameron turned his head, and his gaze was heated. “Are you trying to ask me a personal question?”
The right answer was “no.” She was here in his office to talk about the interview she had set up for him. Which he had handled just fine. The rest shouldn’t matter...but reading about his implied sexual exploits on the front page of a topbusiness site didn’t feel good.
Jackson closed her eyes. “I guess it’s personal. I want to know...how much does the media have right about you?”
Cameron expelled a breath slowly. “I never sleep with active clients. I’m not my father.”
She blinked her eyes open in surprise. “No, you’re not at all. At least not from what I know of him.”
Cameron was a clear copy of his father physically,but that was where the similarities ended. While Harlan Blackmore projected a glossy polished exterior, Cameron seemed to want to wear his roughest edges on the outside, for everyone to see.
“Look, my father paraded my mother around like he was a good, married man. My mother thought they were in love. But really he was fucking anyone he wanted, and he moved on when it was good for business.It was all for show. But I didn’t find that out until a lot later.” Cameron looked at her again. “I’d rather people think the worst of me than lead them on.”
“Lower the expectations?”
He gave a humorless laugh. “I guess so.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not like I never see any action, but it’s rarely anything more than one...encounter. And always separate from business. Unlesssome sexy New Yorker catches me unaware.”
