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Jackson Bennett had some nerve summoning her to his house. Again.
At first, Meisha thought working for him would be cool. When the mayor resigned and the city council appointed Jackson as interim, Meisha got a little excited. Mostly because Mayor Green was old in age and ideas, which was why Forest Hills was stuck in time. Although Jackson had some strange ways, he was barely out of his thirties, so he was young. He was also smart and tech savvy. Not to mention fine, fit, and sexy.
Meisha chastised herself. Those last three had nothing to do with the job, but she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit she’d been thinking about his chest and his biceps more than she should have. If a woman liked her men tall, dark, and chiseled, Jackson was perfect. She sighed. She liked them that way, which was a problem, because good looking wasn’t all he was. Jackson Bennett was a pain in the neck. He was a pain because he was making her come all the way out to no-man's-land every day.
“So aggravating,” she whispered to herself in the quiet of the car.
Her office was right off the interstate and a quick ride home to her apartment in Stockbridge. Jackson’s sprawling property was on the outskirts of Forest Hills. He was adding twenty or better minutes to her commute, which meant more time and gas, and for what? Because he didn’t like people.
Meisha sighed again as she pulled up to the gate for his property. She pushed the button and waited the few minutes it took for the tall iron panels to slide open. Once inside, she traveled the length of the long driveway, admiring the Eastern Redbud trees that lined the path on both sides. There had to be forty of them. It was a literal forest.
Like she’d done every day this week, she parked her car in the circular driveway outside the front door. The frigid February air sliced through her, making her resent this midday trip even more. She made it her habit to bring her lunch so once she was in the office, she could stay there until she had to head home. Unless she had to run an errand at a neighboring building, that worked most days. But now Jackson was summoning her to his home office like he had a right. She supposed he did. He was the mayor, and it seemed no one cared what he was doing.
Meisha leaned into the car for her bags. Before she reached the house, the door opened. Jackson’s prestigious height nearly filled the opening. His home office was near the foyer. It had a large window from which most of the driveway was viewable. When he was sitting at his desk, he could see her coming.
“You’re right on time. I have questions about the grant for the library. I have a meeting with them in twenty minutes.”
Meisha kept her groan inside. “That meeting was pushed to Monday. I put the change on your calendar, and I pinned a note about it to your to-do list.”
Jackson looked confused, but unbothered. “I didn’t see that.”
She cocked her head. “Did you check either one?”
The right corner of his mouth went up a smidgen, just enough to let her know he was amused. Meisha had no idea what he found funny. He was the contradiction. He’d made his fortune creating software but was iffy on using digital reminders to keep himself on task. He was the joke in this scenario.
“Let me get my laptop booted up, and I’ll review it with you, so you’re prepped for Monday.”
Jackson stepped aside and let her in past him. She caught the familiar whiff of whatever that made-for-him cologne was he wore every day. Smelling it brought her rising disdain for him down a peg. A sister could only be so annoyed with a man who smelled as good as he did.
He stalled at the office door. “Can I get you a drink? Coffee, tea, something else?”
She raised her custom designed water bottle. “I’m good.” The heels of her boots clicked on the polished hardwood until they met the area rug under the desk Jackson had added to the room for her. A roaring fire warmed the space aesthetically and functionally. The fire was welcome. Because the house was huge and the ceilings over twenty feet high, it tended to be drafty.
Meisha put down her bags and slid out of her coat and gloves.
“So, the color for the day is navy.”
She slung her wool coat over the back of an extra chair near her desk before pulling her laptop out of the bag. Meisha dressed in solid colors and on most days, she chose one color and wore it from head to toe. Today, she was rockin’ a new navy sweater dress that fit her hourglass figure like a glove. Her coat and suede boots were also navy. The only splashes of color came from her caramel-colored scarf, gloves, and handbag.
“Did you open the email I sent with the projected budget?” she asked, ignoring his comment about her wardrobe.
“That must take a lot of planning.”
She slipped into her chair. “The library budget?”
“No, the monochrome color thing you do.”
Meisha cocked her head and twisted her lips. “Are we going to talk about my clothes or...”
“Or,” Jackson interrupted. He’d been standing near the door, but now he came to her desk and sat on the edge. “A big or.”
She frowned and sat back. “What is it, sir?”
Jackson looked amused again. “Sir? You seem a little bothered. Are you sure I can’t get you something to drink? I have wine if you need it. It’s happy hour somewhere in the world.”
She forced a smile back at him. “I don’t drink and even if I did, I wouldn’t during work hours. It’s against city policy.”
“I suppose it would be.” His face became somber. “So, Meisha, we’ve worked together for about fourteen months now.”
I’ve seen you seven times in those fourteen months and five of those times have been in the last two weeks.
“So, I feel comfortable admitting, I need a favor.”
Meisha wasn’t sure she liked where this was going because she had no idea where it was going. What kind of favor could he need from her? With a lift of her brow, she sent the subtle warning, Dude, don’t cross the line up in here.
“I need a date for a wedding.”
Meisha’s frown returned. She hadn’t heard him correctly. “Come again?”
“I was wondering if you’d be my date for a wedding.”
He’d repeated that ridiculous question. Was he insane?
The doorbell rang. The outrageous gonging sound startled her. It was a ridiculous noise, kind of like the conversation they were having, but Meisha was grateful for the interruption. It gave her a chance to push the word crazy back down her throat before she used it.
“You’re my boss.”
“We could call it a work thing.”
Meisha peered up at him. She didn’t like the way they were positioned—her sitting, him towering over her, so she stood. “But you just called it a date.”
Jackson’s eyes raked over her body in a not-so-subtle way. Meisha suddenly became more conscious of how snug her dress fit.
He cleared his throat and returned his eyes to hers. “Would it be better if I called it a team building exercise?”
The doorbell rang again. Jackson didn’t move. He wasn’t near the window by his desk because he was still at hers.
“Are you going to get the door?”
“I have a person for that.” He stood. “Back to the wedding...”
“Whose wedding?”
“My cousin’s. Stone Bennett.”
That wedding was the social event of the year. Everyone she knew wanted to attend, including her. “I went to high school with Addison.”
Jackson was full of facial expressions today. This time, his fine features were registering alarm. “Are you that young?”
With great effort to remain civil, she answered him. “Addison and I weren’t in the same class. I was a few grades ahead of her. I graduated with her sister, Harper, but since you put it that way, I’m afraid to ask you how old you think I am.”
Jackson smiled through a hearty chuckle. Two long dimples erupted from his cheeks. If he’d been anyone else, she’d sell a kidney to go to a wedding with him.
“I’ll never tell,” he said.
Meisha had been trying to figure out a word to describe him, but it had been escaping her. Now she had it. Audacious. Audacious was the word for Jackson Bennett’s personality.
“Are you invited to the wedding?”
She laughed and folded her arms over her chest. “I’m not Forest Hills royalty.”
A stocky, hurried-looking, older man entered the open door. “I don’t mean to disturb you, Mr. Bennett, but the police are here.”
Bother crinkled Jackson’s brows for a moment, but then his face relaxed. He stuck his hands in his pants pockets. “Emerson, this is my assistant, Miss Merriweather.”
“Ms. Merriweather, this is Emerson. He runs everything here, including me.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said, but thought maybe she should send his calendar and to-do list to Emerson.
Emerson reciprocated the greeting. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. If you ever need anything while you’re here, there is a bell just outside the door that you can ring for me.”
Meisha nodded, and Emerson directed his attention to Jackson again. “Shall I?”
Jackson shrugged. “Show them in.”
It was mere seconds before the officers entered the room. Forest Hills was small. They only had fifteen full-time police officers, so Meisha recognized them both.
“Sorry to disturb, Mr. Mayor.”
“No problem. I always have time for Forest Hills’ finest. What can I do for you?”
They looked at Meisha and then back at Jackson. The self-appointed leader of the two, stepped forward and handed Jackson a piece of paper.
“What is this?”
“It’s a warrant, Mr. Mayor.” He coughed. “We’re here to arrest Ms. Merriweather.”
Meisha gasped and her heart leapt into her throat. Suddenly dizzy, she fell back into her chair.
Arrest her.
Oh no! For what?
She needed to ask, but her tongue was stuck. She was too afraid of the answer.
Jackson did a half turn in her direction. She looked up at him. His eyes were sympathetic. Her entire soul pleaded for him and these police officers to disappear. Casual as you please, he reclaimed his seat on the corner of the desk and said, “If I post your bail can I count on you for team building next weekend?”