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Along the way, I called Jackson’s cell. “Are you in your suite?” I asked, forcing myself to forget the unspoken volumes between us. The show mattered more than the fear of not being able to resist him when we were in the same room. There was nothing to do but take my frustration out on the floor, stomping with every step until I reached the elevator.
“Yeah, up to my ass in work at the moment,” he grumbled. “At least the advertising team isn’t passing a virus around, but I have a shit ton of ads and press releases to approve. Tell me you’re not calling because somebody threw up on the stage.”
“Oh, no, but I do have a problem.” So far, he seemed normal. Maybe he had forgotten all about the last time we were alone together when I’d stayed late to work and, thank God, we were interrupted by the call from Audra. Her timing couldn’t have been any better because the closer he came, the closer I wanted him to be. His little hissy fit had only reminded me what a mess we’d be together. God forbid he not get all of my attention all the time.
Rising in the elevator, I closed my eyes in silent prayer. Please, don’t let him decide to take it out on me now.
“Great. I was just thinking how yet another problem would be the perfect way to end my day.” He sighed, then added, “Come on up and tell me about it.”
The elevator doors opened quietly, and I emerged. “I’m already on your floor.”
He muttered a curse before grunting, “I should’ve guessed.” His door opened as I approached, and I eased it the rest of the way before stepping into the room.
Fuck me. My mouth fell open before I could help it, then snapped shut. “Could you have warned me?” I demanded, staring at the floor while waving a hand in his direction.
His mostly-naked direction.
His only-in-black-boxer-briefs direction.
“You could’ve warned me,” he retorted. “I was getting dressed after a shower when you called. I would’ve told you to give me five minutes, Miss I’m Already On Your Floor.”
He didn’t have to open the damn door, though. Arguing over it would make things worse, and my face was already hot enough. “Well, I’m here to ask for help with the crew. They’re telling me they need another ten seconds to shift from the mountain set to the temple. When I told them I know it’s possible, they pretty much shrugged me off.”
The silence he kept me hanging in forced me to look up at him. It was impossible to ignore the chiseled body between his feet and face, especially when he didn’t bother covering up. Girl, you have seen him naked. Get over it. Sure, but at the time, I wasn’t fighting tooth and nail to keep from jumping him. The heat in my core radiated through the rest of me and made me wish there was a convenient powder to control my libido.
He arched an eyebrow. “And?”
“And I killed them. What do you mean, and?” I asked, throwing my hands into the air.
“And what do you want me to do about it?” He threw his hands into the air the way I had, mocking me. “Who am I? Your daddy? You kids are going to have to figure this out on your own because Daddy’s busy working.”
“We’re all working,” I muttered, clenching my fists at my sides. “You spent weeks and weeks hovering over all of us, complaining over every last thing for whatever reason you could come up with. Now you can’t be bothered to weigh in on an issue with real consequences?”
“Do you have any idea how many issues I’ve weighed in on today? Or was that whole co-producer title a formality?” he countered with a self-important sneer. “You should know how much work I have on my plate.”
“Fine. Enjoy the dark, silent ten seconds in the middle of the first act. Consider my hands washed of this bullshit,” I declared, prepared to leave. If he wasn’t going to listen, I wasn’t going to beg. “Obviously, you’ve decided to check out.”
“You’re not going to lure me into giving you what you want,” he grumbled, heading toward the bedroom, muttering to himself. The sight of his perfect peach of an ass in those tight briefs took my already simmering blood and heated it to a boil. I needed to go. Now.
So, of course, I followed him instead. Since when did I make good decisions when it came to Jackson? Returning home, for starters. “Who said I was trying to? I’m serious. If this is too unimportant for you to care about, fine. We are extremely shorthanded at the moment, and there are only so many people to deal with issues like this.”
“Thank you for the update,” he replied with a sour smirk while looking through his closet. “I had no idea.”
“You could try helping me instead of being nasty and sarcastic.”
“I only have so much bandwidth,” he insisted as he pulled a black button-down shirt from a hanger and draped it over a nearby armchair. “If it makes you feel better, you can tell those lazy assholes to get their shit together if they don’t want a personal visit from me. Would that do the trick?”
“How the hell would I know? Why can’t you talk to them now?”
“Because I can’t jump every time somebody snaps their fucking fingers around here.” He snapped them now, as if I needed a reminder of what it sounded like. “Are you the only person with things to care about outside this production?”
Bingo. “Oh, so that’s what this is about. I should’ve known.” If anything, I was disappointed in him. “There I was, trying to give you the benefit of the doubt.”
Rather than keep looking through his clothes, he folded his arms over his smooth, chiseled bare chest. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I knew you would be pissy because I sometimes have things I need to do that might not fall within your schedule.”
Barking out a laugh, he asked, “Oh, you think this is personal? You realize that says more about you than it does about me, right? I don’t care what you do when you’re not here.”
