“Jackson McAllister,” she said. “The board warned me about your growling.”
Cameron screwed his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead. He opened his eyes again, but nothing changed. The same woman was still glaring at him.
“What the hell?” he whispered. “You’re not a man.”
Jackson dropped her hand and raised her eyebrows. “I think you and I alreadyestablished that last night, Mr. Blackmore,” she said drily. “And you’re supposed to have a beard.”
So...Shewas Jackson McAllister. The person the board had sent to rein in him and his team. Or try to. And he had already given her an eye-opening welcome. Cameron rubbed his temples.
“But Jackson’s a man’s name,” he muttered to himself.
She shook her head slowly. “Why do I feel likeI’m back in elementary school?”
“I’m long past elementary school, Ms. McAllister,” he snapped. “I think we established that last night, too.”
Her face betrayed no emotion, but a deep flush crept up her neck. Which brought him right back to the place his mind absolutely should not go now. The last time those cheeks reddened like that was—
Shit. What was he supposed to do now? Pull outa chair for her all gentleman-like? Ignore the fact that he had just had mind-bending sex with her less than twelve hours ago? He huffed out a breath and sank into his own chair at the table.
He crossed his arms and leaned back, scrambling to get a handle on the situation. Wait. He’d had no idea who she was last night, but had she known who he was? Was this part of some larger scheme to “tame”him? He nearly snarled at the thought. It sure as hell hadn’t felt that way. And when he walked into the conference room, she’d looked just as confused as he had felt. But he couldn’t rule it out.
“You had to know it was me last night,” he said slowly. “Didn’t the board give you photos or something?”
Jackson rolled her eyes. “I didn’t spend hours gazing at your profile, if that’s whatyou mean. You had a beard in most of them, and last night I took my contacts out because my eyes were killing me.”
Well, those glasses gave her an innocent-but-naughty look that would turn him on right here if he kept thinking about it. Fighting for calm, he said, “Screw it. Let’s do this.”
Her eyes snapped up to meet his, and another blush washed over her cheeks. Wait—did he just catchher staring at his biceps? She sat down quickly in her chair and smoothed her skirt over her legs. She grabbed the files she had just collected from the floor and cleared her throat.
“I’m here to give you a boost of intensive public relations support,” she said. “I’ll be looking at every detail of your day and coming up with a plan for improvement.”
“Any suggestions so far?” The commentslipped out before he could think better of it. And fuck if she didn’t lick her lips beforeshecould think better of it.
But the glossy look in her eyes quickly switched back to a glare. “The board wants a detailed report,” she said sharply. “And there I’ll make suggestions for the future.”
All his retorts faded. He hadn’t missed the board’s veiled threat. If Cameron didn’t run his companythe Harlan Blackmore way, someone else would. But he hadn’t missed Jackson’s threat, either. And the glare she still fixed on him said the same thing:Don’t mess with me.
Cameron ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “How the hell do you propose we make this work, Jackson?”
She let out a little sigh. Her eyes softened, and she pushed her glasses up her nose. For a moment,she looked just as mixed up about the situation as he was. But when she spoke again, her voice was steady and all business.
“We just forget about last night and do our jobs,” she said. “I’m over it. You’re a big boy. You can get past it, too, can’t you?”
She knew just how much of a big boy he was, but now wasn’t the time to point this out.
“I think I can manage that,” he said drily.“Let’s get to work.”
She opened a file and pushed it toward him. He picked up the printouts of newspaper articles and photos one by one. He had seen most of them before. They featured various members of his team with different women from different jobs. Most of them weren’t remarkable. He could see her point, too—he did have a beard in most of them.
“These are clients,” he said.
Shepicked up one of Max and a high-profile actress. He was whispering something in her ear, and if the sultry smile on her face was any indication, she was ready for him to do a lot more.
“He looks more like a male escort than a bodyguard,” she said.
Cameron took the photo back. “What can I say? He’s good at his job.”
He continued through the pile. He found a photo of himself coming outof a pub with two women, one on each side. He was talking to one, and the other was holding on to his bicep, her mouth next to his ear.
