Beloved (Toni Morrison Trilogy #1)(69)

I hear someone clearing their throat and turn to see Jackson leaning against the door of my office with a huge grin.

“Jackson! What are you doing here? I thought I was meeting you at the lawyer’s office.” I smile as he walks toward me, taking in his perfectly tailored suit. He brushes my hair off my face and stares at me. All I can do is smile back in wonder. I’m so far gone—I’d be a fool to think otherwise.

“I was close. I figured I’d ride there with you,” he says, wrapping his arms around me.

Suddenly aware that we’re in my office, I quickly step back out of his embrace. It’s so easy to fall into a pattern with him and forget he’s my client. He may not care about my rules, but the bottom line is I can’t risk losing my job.

“Jackson, not here please,” I whisper, looking over at the wide open door.

Hurt flashes in his eyes before he recovers. “You almost ready to go?”

I step forward but keep a professional distance, allowing my eyes to convey all I can’t show him physically. The thin line between being his publicist and girlfriend can hurt both of us if it isn’t clear.

“You know how badly I wish I could wrap my arms around you? But you’re still my client and you promised. My assistant is outside the door and my boss could walk in at any moment. So I’m not trying to push you away. I’m asking you to think about how it would look.”

My heart stutters when I think about how thoughtful he was to come here and make sure I’m not alone on the ride over. Once again he’s giving me something I didn’t know I needed. He knows me. He gets me. It baffles me that he’s wormed his way through all my layers without any resistance. Well, very little resistance.

A slow, sexy smile glides across his features. “It’s fine, baby. In about three minutes we won’t be in your office. Remember, outside of our business relationship I make no promises.”

Returning his smile, I can see he wants to kiss me, but instead he strides out of my office.

Taylor and Jackson spend a few minutes talking and laughing while I clean up my desk. I grab my phone, unsurprised that I have a few missed calls from Neil, a text from Ashton, and another from Gretchen.

Ashton: Be strong and remember you’re loved.

Me: Thanks Biffle. I love you. See you tonight.

I check the next message from Gretchen and smile.

Gretchen: Call me if you need anything and text me a picture of the new hottie. Ashton said I’d shit myself.

Me: I will! Can’t wait for you to meet him.

Gretchen: Where’s my picture?

Me: You’ll get one soon.

I look up as Taylor glances over, eyes wide and mouth agape as she points to Jackson. I resist the urge to laugh—he is ridiculously gorgeous. But more than that, he sees me. He sees everything I am and doesn’t run.

I glance at the clock and close up my office. We only have about twenty minutes before we have to be there. “Come on. Stop flirting with the office staff.”

Taylor laughs and we say our good-byes. Jackson has a town car waiting downstairs for us—another sign of his thoughtfulness. We climb in and he clasps my hand in his. A sad smile spreads across my face. I’m glad he’s here with me. But as far as we’ve come in the short amount of time we’ve known each other, I can’t shake the feeling that it’s only a matter of time until Jackson walks away. It’s like there’s this barrier around him that only permits me to get so close, and I have a nagging feeling that he’s hiding something. I can’t put my finger on what exactly, but it’s there in the way he breaks off his thoughts sometimes or the forlorn look he occasionally gets when he thinks I’m not paying attention. It keeps me from trusting my emotions. I want to give myself freely, allow him into the deeper parts of me, but I need the same in return.

“Hey, you’re quiet. What’s going on?” Jackson says, breaking my inner thoughts.

“I’m just thinking. A lot could happen today.”

My nerves are all over the place. I don’t know what to expect. It’s not like I have anything to go off of.

He rubs his thumb across my soft skin and my heart flutters. “Did your father have any other relatives?”

“I honestly don’t know,” I mutter. “I don’t remember much about my father or his family. I know he had a brother, but I don’t think they were close.”

“These usually aren’t long. It’s really a formality,” he says and looks out the window, taking a moment to himself. As he faces forward again, I notice his eyes, glossy with unshed tears. Releasing my hand, he grips his pants, looking uncomfortable.

“You okay?”

Quickly he glances up, giving me a half-hearted smile. “Yeah. Sorry. I hate lawyers. Will your mother be there?”

I want to call bullshit but something holds me back. I hate a lot of things, but most don’t make me emotional. I take a moment to weigh my response. As much as I want to press him, we don’t have enough time and my head isn’t clear enough for anything too deep. “No. I didn’t even tell her about it. I don’t really want her to be there. Let’s just say our relationship is strained at best.”

“Were you always like that?” he asks.

No, sadly we weren’t.

“There was a time when we were close. She worked hard throughout my childhood to make sure we had the basics—food, shelter, clothing. Eventually, it wore on her. Being a single mother and having to raise me alone with no financial or emotional support from anyone else was hard. I remember my grandmother being around when my father first left, but she died when I was twelve. That was when everything fell to shit. My mother started trying to replace my father and I became irrelevant.