Beloved (Toni Morrison Trilogy #1)(25)

I smother my groan and decide to try to play it smart and casual. “Good-bye, Jackson.” I turn and walk to the elevator, hoping he’s watching as I sway my hips a little more than normal. I look over my shoulder, smiling when I see his eyes are exactly where I want them to be.





“Ugh! Where the hell is my black dress?” I yell out my bedroom door. Ashton is sitting on the couch laughing at something on TV.

“Stressed much?” she replies from the other room.

“I need your help! Get your ass off the couch!” I say in my pouty voice and stomp my feet like a twelve-year-old. I need her to calm me down and pack for me. It’s been four days since I last saw Jackson. I’ve gotten almost nothing accomplished because every time I sit to start something, I find myself daydreaming of his face or imagining his lips leaning down to kiss me. Lost in yet another fantasy of Jackson, I sigh and hear Ashton laugh again, only this time she’s in my doorway, staring at me.

“Lost in Jacksonland again, are we?” She snorts and heads into my room. “You got it bad.”

“Shut up. I do not!”

“Really?” Ashton tilts her head up and taps her finger on her chin as if she’s debating something. “Well if that’s true, then where’s his business card? I could always call him since I’m single.” She shrugs, gauging my reaction.

I glare at her. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Hmmm. You said he’s hot though, right?” She grins before continuing, “I really would like to see for myself. Who knows? Maybe we’ll hit it off.”

“You’re so full of shit. You wouldn’t do that to me.” I turn and look in my drawer for the damn black dress that’s not in my closet.

“If you’re not interested, why should it matter?” In the mirror I see her raise an eyebrow, goading me.

“I’m not interested, but that doesn’t mean I want him hanging around here.” I know she’ll never buy it, but that’s all I’ve got.

“I’ll make sure not to bring him around. I know he’s your client and all.” I turn and look at her smiling face. She’s waiting for me to either have an epic tantrum or call her on it.

Fine. Two can play at this game. “The card is on the dresser,” I walk over to the card Jackson placed in my hand last week. “Go ahead and give him a call. I’ll be right here.” I hold it out to Ashton, willing her to take it, hoping she doesn’t.

She grabs the card and reaches for the phone. She types the numbers and smiles the whole time as I gape at her. I can’t believe she’s calling him. I know what I said, but I never thought she’d actually do it. She knows me better than that. I’m about to say something when I look closer and realize she has my phone in her hand. I leap over the pile of clothes on the floor and lunge for the phone. She falls back on the bed, laughing hysterically as I claw my way up and rip it out of her hand. “You bitch!” I try to contain my laughter as I scroll through the call log to see if she dialed. “I’m gonna kill you! Thank God you didn’t freaking call him!”

“Nope, I wouldn’t call him. That would be sooo embarrassing.” She stands and heads into my closet.

Just as I’m about to go back to packing, my phone vibrates in my hand. I look down and open the text message from a number I don’t recognize.

Unknown: Can’t wait to see you either.

Dread seeps through my veins as I grab the business card and check the number. Sure enough, it’s Jackson. She’s dead!

“Ashton! You’ve got to be kidding me! You texted him?” I exclaim.

She peeks her head out from the closet, smiling. “I said I didn’t call him. Never said anything about other forms of communication.” She giggles and goes back into the closet.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm down. Okay, I can handle this. I won’t respond, and I’ll play it off when I see him—although, I might be in a jail cell instead of meeting Jackson tomorrow. I think a judge would understand why I had to murder my best friend. I sink onto my bed and put my pillow over my head, groaning.

Ashton comes over and nudges my leg. I pull the pillow down and glare at her in response. “You’re being a drama queen. Look at the message I sent him before you get all stabby.” She starts folding clothes and putting them in my suitcase.

I look at the outgoing text message.

Me: Ready for the trip. See you at 8.

Whatever. She should have never sent him a damn text message. Now he probably thinks I sit around thinking about him. He wouldn’t be far off in that assumption, but I don’t exactly want him to know that. Damn Ashton and her stupid interfering. I look over to find her rummaging through my underwear drawer. I snap at her, “What the hell are you doing in there?” I rush over to close the drawer.

“If you’re getting naked, you need proper panties.” She smiles mischievously.

“There will be no naked!” I sigh and grab out a few pairs of underwear.

“Sure, Cat. Keep telling yourself that. This guy wants in your pants and you can’t even try to tell me you’re not dying to get in his. So embrace your inner temptress, get some cute panties, and get on it … or under it.” She winks and runs out of my room before I can throw something at her.