Beloved (Toni Morrison Trilogy #1)(30)

I look over at the Cole Security Forces sign and I’m suddenly confused. Clearly, this isn’t the production facility. I glance at Jackson. He’s still engrossed in the figures, so he hasn’t noticed we’ve stopped.

I clear my throat. “Jackson, where are we?”

He looks at the building and back at me. “This is my other company. I run a security force that has contracts all over the world. I need to run in and show face for about ten minutes. Would you like to come in?” His eyes shift back and forth and he sounds genuinely nervous.

Well there’s a surprise. The man owns a cosmetics company and a security company—talk about polar opposites. My eyes widen at his admission and then I recover, smiling softly. “If you’d like me to, sure.”

We both exit the car and head over to the entrance. Jackson places his hand on my shoulder as he opens the door. Just the small touch sends me into overdrive. I tilt my head and give him a small grin as I enter the office.

It’s nothing like Raven Cosmetics. Where that office is almost feminine, this one is modern and masculine with clean lines and distinctive colors. The floors are gray concrete and the walls are cream and royal blue, which makes sense based on the décor from the plane. In the center of the room, there are two big cubicle sections that each seats five people. The left wall is taken up by four large offices with huge mahogany doors.

Jackson clears his throat as we make our way into the space. Three guys stand and smile when they see him. A few other guys stick their hands up, acknowledging his presence, but continue to work.

“Hey, Muffin!” A tall, muscular guy with long light blond hair styled back off his face says as he walks over, smiling. He’s huge and his arms are covered in tattoos, which might be intimidating if he wasn’t so warm and friendly.

“Hey, Mark.” He looks happy to see him. The two men shake hands and clap each other on the shoulder. Mark turns his attention to me with wide eyes and a large, appraising grin. Jackson bristles. “Mark, this is Catherine. She’s the new publicist for the cosmetics company,” he says stiffly.

I smile and extend my hand. “Hi, Mark. Nice to meet you.”

Mark shakes my hand. “Catherine, it’s a pleasure. Sorry you have to work with this prick all day.” He elbows Jackson in the stomach, still smiling at me.

I giggle and reply, “Interesting choice of words. Jackson describes himself a little differently.”

Mark raises his eyebrows, looking intrigued by my statement. “Really? What did Muff describe himself as?”

“Muff?” I ask, completely lost.

He howls in laughter. “Yup. That’s Jackson! He was always a little soft in the middle,”—he leans in—“whereas the rest of us worked out to keep our amazing physiques.” He stands back up, beaming. “So we told him he had a muffin top and that stuck as his call sign.”

I giggle at the nickname and glance at Jackson, who’s shooting daggers at Mark. Turning back to Mark, I ask, “So what’s your call sign?”

Jackson places his hand on the small of my back. “Twilight and I were both on the same team for four years.”

“Twilight? Oh, I gotta hear this!” I laugh. Now it’s Mark’s turn to give Jackson the evil eye.

Jackson chuckles and pulls me against his side. “Notice how pale Mark is?” He asks, jutting his chin out in his direction. I nod. These two are the female versions of Ashton and me. It’s comforting, considering the day I’ve had. “Well he’s so white he could glitter in the sun. One of the guys’ wives had some kind of obsession with that movie, and he kept telling him he could star in Twilight. So Mark here is our glittery, pale Twilight.”

Mark scoffs and puffs his chest out. “I’m proud of my name. At least they aren’t saying I’m a fat ass. That Edward dude had abs like a rock. Besides, I could kick your ass any day, any time,” he challenges, stepping closer to me as he smiles widely.

Jackson raises his chin and addresses me. “He’s an * but knows his shit, so he stays—for now.” He smirks at Mark. “And anyway, he knows who’s in charge. Right, Mark?” I can almost smell the testosterone in the room.

Mark laughs and his eyes crinkle. “Keep thinking that, assclown. You need me too much.” He puts his arm around my shoulders, taunting Jackson.

“Right, remember who signs your paycheck.” Jackson raises a brow.

“Anyway, Catherine, this f*cknugget gives you any problems, you call me and I’ll kick his ass.”

I instantly love this man. He flashes me that ever-present smile one last time before heading back over to his desk. Jackson grips my hip, grimacing and mumbling something under his breath.

Jackson guides me over to an office and flips on the light before closing the door. It’s large and airy. There are photos all over the wall and I walk over to get a closer look. There are a few of Jackson, Mark, and some other guys drinking and laughing. A few of him on a boat with some friends, looking carefree and happy. My stomach clenches at the next one. He’s standing in camouflage with a huge gun slung across his body, a menacing look on his face. He looks scary yet unbelievably sexy.

“You know …” I say, turning, and then I gasp as he startles me.

I was so lost in the photos I didn’t even realize he was behind me. “What?” He smiles.