Chapter Eleven
Jackson closed his eyes, breathing in the night air. He leaned against the rail of his patio and looked out over the dark grounds that stretched out around the property. Despite the city address, he’d clearly picked this place because the size buffered the house from any neighbors. He almost felt like he was alone in the universe, standing out here.
Not like that’s different than usual.
Tomorrow was the benefit and while he shouldn’t be dreading it more than a normal day at work, he was. When people let their guards down and the alcohol was flowing things could get dangerous. At work, he could bluff his way through a business dilemma he’d planned and practiced for. But social small talk was different. He couldn’t remember if he’d already told the same anecdote or whether he was hob knobbing with someone he’d shared memories with. There were too many ways for this to go south fast.
Sighing, he rubbed his forehead. His blasted headaches refused to go away.
In his other hand lay his phone, just waiting to make a call he’d put off for too long.
You need answers. Make the call.
Gritting his teeth, he unlocked the cell and pulled up the one number he’d added into the memory. Before he could change his mind, he tapped the number.
“Dr. Warren speaking,” a man said as he answered.
“It’s Jackson Sinclair,” he said. “Sorry about the lateness of the call, Doctor.”
“Mr. Sinclair, of course. Not a problem at all. With the donation your brother made on your behalf, please feel free to call me day or night. We appreciate your support.”
Hush money.
His brother was a smart man.
“How can I be of service?”
“It’s been some time since the accident,” he said. “But these headaches I keep having refuse to go away.”
“Hmm.” Dr. Warren paused. “Any other symptoms? Any memories returning?”
“None,” he said. “Or at least, nothing concrete. Sometimes I get these feelings like I should know something, but my history is still a blank page.”
“And the pain pills I sent you home with won’t help?”
“They make me fuzzy. I can’t use them at work.”
The doctor sighed. “I wish I could give you an answer. Why don’t you make another appointment and come in? I’ll run some tests, get some scans. Maybe more is going on than we thought.”
“Or this could just be how my body is adjusting?”
He could almost hear the other man shrugging. “Unfortunately, yes. It might just be a side effect of the head trauma. I can prescribe some sleeping pills for you to use at night but beyond that, there’s not a lot we can try.”
“Not the answer I was hoping for, Doc.”
“Let’s get you in so I can examine you. Just as a precaution.”
The last thing I need is more time off work or more time in a hospital. The talk is bad enough with just a fracture.
He could imagine how his stock would plummet if anyone discovered the CEO of Sinclair Enterprises was getting a head CT.
But then again, he didn’t want to do anything to make his condition worse.
“Is that the only option?”
“Mr. Sinclair, I really must insist you don’t let this wait. Any number of things could be wrong. We need to rule out more severe alternatives.”
“Fine. I’ll carve out some time to come see you in a few days. We can run your tests then,” he said, turning at the sound of the sliding door to the kitchen opening. Lori stepped out, two glasses in her hands.
“Of course, Mr. Sinclair. I’ll make the appointment as fast as possible,” Dr. Warren said.
“I appreciate it.” He disconnected the call as Lori reached him.
“Who was that?” she asked.
“No one.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Was it your brother?”
He hissed, looking back to the garden. “No.”
“You’re going to have to call him eventually. Don’t you think he can help with the benefit preparation? There’s only so much my flash cards and charts can do. He went to these things with you. He’ll know what conversations you had and with whom way better than I will.”
“I’ll take it under advisement.”
She sighed, obviously seeing the lost battle for what it was. “Fine. Here.” She held out a glass to him.
Pleasantly surprised, he accepted the scotch and knocked his tumbler against the twin nestled in her own hand. Together they took a sip in the darkness and he nearly groaned at the welcome taste. Maybe the liquor could dull the pounding in his head.
“So, you want the good news or the bad news?”
“Do we ever have good news?”
She shrugged. “You made it nearly a week without blowing your cover. I say that’s pretty incredible.”
“I sense a ‘but’ coming.”
“But we have another problem to add to the pile.”
“That pile is growing damn fast.”
“I was talking with the girls today.”
“Who?”
“The other top EAs. We banded together to survive all of you executives.”
“I’m sure that will be good information to know when I get my memory back.”
She smiled. “Anyway, they were grilling me about you and they all mentioned you seemed different this week.”
He sighed. “Hell.”
“So far it’s nothing severe. Sounds like everyone is chalking it up to you being a little off your game because of your wrist. Pain pills are a good excuse if it ever comes up. You might want to take a few publicly tomorrow to give the story some support.”
“I don’t like using them.”
“Throw back some Tics Tacs, then.” She took another sip. “Are you sure you’re okay not using them for real?”
“My wrist doesn’t hurt that much anymore.”
“I meant your head.”
“I’m fine,” he lied.
“Mm-hmm.”
She didn’t sound convinced, but he didn’t care. He’d dumped every problem he had at her door. This, at least, was one he didn’t need to burden her with. If Dr. Warren had no solution, Lori wouldn’t be able to do anything but worry for him and her pity was something he wanted to avoid at all costs.
“You’d tell me if something was really wrong, right?”
“Worried about me?” he asked, turning to face her while leaning a hip against the rail.
“Of course,” she said, staring down at the amber drink in her glass.
“Because I’m your boss.”
“I think we both know you’re more than that,” she replied, her voice soft. “But the point is, I’m here if you need me.”
“I always need you,” he replied. “And not just because of my head.”
Those hazel eyes flicked to his before sliding away.
Knowing he had to be careful how far he pushed her, he added, “You could always try needing me, too.”
Her gaze flew back to his, eyes wide with that same longing he’d noticed before. His pulse sped up at the sight.
Lori opened her mouth but no sound came out.
She’s not sure what to do.
His assistant who always had an answer to everything. Except, it seemed, when it came to him.
Reaching out, he smoothed a flyaway strand of hair back behind her ear. “How do we adjust my office presence?” he asked, giving her a lifeline. Because while he may never have tried to get to know her before, he did now. And work was a safe haven for her.
Relief flooded her features. Clearing her throat, she said, “I need you to be…”
He waited.
“Colder,” she said.
Colder. Because I’m an uncaring ass and everyone knows it. “How?”
She was looking anywhere but at him. “Don’t take a personal interest in your employees. Don’t say good morning to anyone below the C-suite. Ignore the interns whenever they’re near you. And…”
“Go ahead,” he said when she hesitated. “Teach me how to be the bastard I used to be.”
“And ignore me, too,” she finished in a hushed tone.
The breath left him in a huff. “That’s why you keep running in the opposite direction,” he said, anger churning inside him. “Because I treated you like a convenience, right?”
“There are other factors here—”
“Bullshit. I hurt you, and now you don’t trust that I can be any different.”
“No,” she said, reaching out to him. “It’s not like that at all. We had a fine working relationship. You treated me the way any CEO would treat his staff. I don’t hold any of that against you.”
“But you should. If we worked together for years, I should have seen you the way I am now. I should have cared about you.”
A pained little laugh escaped her. “This is exactly what you can’t do. Jackson Sinclair can’t have a personality facelift in the middle of a corporate threat. You can’t be this new man.”
“A man who cares about those around him.”
“Exactly,” she said with a snap of her fingers. “You are a CEO people fear and revere. All you think about is business. All you want to discuss are numbers and strategy. Human relationships hold you back. Even you and your brother speak in short terms to save time.”
“Do you see why I take issue with you wanting this person back?”
She shook her head, exasperated. “It’s not what I want. It’s what we need to happen if we’re going to keep our cover.”
Not what she wants?
His gaze sharpened. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll be the perfect corporate bastard tomorrow. I’ll ignore you and treat you like a servant. But when we don’t have an audience, I refuse to act that way.”
“Jackson…”
He stepped closer. “Would you really want me to be the man you’re describing right now?”
Her eyes were conflicted as she stared up at him. “I should want that.”
“But you don’t.”
“No.” The word was barely a whisper. “I don’t.”
“Admit it,” he said, leaning closer. “You like the new me.”
She was a silent before her shoulders caved in defeat. “Too much.”
The confession burned through him. Every second of the day he felt like an inferior shadow of the man he’d once been.
But the only person he cared about liked him as he was. Damaged and all.
He pressed her back against the rail, bringing their bodies together.
“If it helps, I like you too much, too.”
…
That doesn’t help at all.
In fact, it made everything harder.
The heat of his body infiltrated her light sundress. The scent of his sandalwood-spiced skin wrapped around her, trapping her in the near darkness. If he were anyone else, she’d rise to her tiptoes and kiss him. She’d guide him backward onto the patio lounger and straddle his hips, freeing herself to touch him any way she wanted.
The scotch swirled in her head, whispering that her inhibitions were a mistake.
He doesn’t know the truth.
Does he need to? the liquor taunted.
If she was damned either way, couldn’t she enjoy her road to hell?
“You shouldn’t care about me,” she tried.
“Too late,” he said.
“You won’t later.”
He shrugged. “I might never remember who I was. Some people don’t.”
“That won’t be you.”
“Not even my billions can buy me a working brain.”
Unable to help herself, she cupped his face with her free hand. “Your brain is incredible, bruised or not. Just like you are.”
He leaned into her touch. “Not many women would say that.”
“To a gorgeous man as rich as Midas? I really bet they would.”
His grin was brief. “You’re wrong, you know. I might not know much, but I know the redhead in my phone wouldn’t have taken on an invalid the way you have.”
“You’re hardly an invalid.”
“But I’m not the man I once was. How many people do you think would forgive that?”
Only the ones who always wished you could be just a little different.
It was like the accident had woken up the person she’d been waiting to meet. The one she’d catch tantalizing glimpses of every now and then when the old Jackson would smile at her or reach over to help straighten her collar. One Christmas, he’d found a first edition, signed copy of her favorite childhood book and left it wrapped on her desk. They’d never spoken of it except for a cursory thank-you, but that present had meant the world to her.
And now the pendulum had swung the other way. The man she’d fantasized about had come to life before her eyes, but while he was far more tempting, he wasn’t complete, either.
If he can ever fully integrate the two sides of this life…
He’d be the man of her dreams.
But he’d be that man with the redhead or some other woman.
“At work I have to play a role,” he said.
“You’re doing it well.”
“I’m acting. Lying my way through the days.” He took her empty glass and set them both on the ground before coming back to her. “The only time I’m ever honest is with you.”
She swallowed hard. “I’m good at keeping secrets.”
“Couldn’t this be one more?” he asked, his gaze dropping to her lips. “No one has to know what goes on behind closed doors.”
“It’s not that easy.”
His hands wrapped around her waist. “Sweetheart, nothing is easier than desire.”
His mouth claimed hers before she could protest. With a groan, she tilted her head to give him a better angle, parting her lips beneath his. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. There was no denying the excitement that burned to life every time he touched her.
She slid her hands up his chest, taking pleasure in the hard muscle she could trace through his T-shirt. The man was far too tempting for his own good and he knew it.
“See? Simple,” he whispered against her lips, moving his mouth to run down her throat. “Do you like when I touch you?”
“Yes,” she breathed, unable to lie.
“Then just focus on that.” He left her neck to look into her eyes. “If any of this has taught me anything, it’s that we have no control.” A roguish grin curved his lips. “So let’s have no control together.”
“This is a bad idea.”
“I’ve made a fortune off good ones. I think I’m owed a few poor choices.” He brushed the hair back from her face. “But for the record, I think you might be the best decision I’ve ever made.”
Her heart melted a little more.
Not mine to keep.
No, but he could be hers for now.
Her eyes fluttered shut as he kissed her again. No other man had ever felt so right in her arms. When he touched her, something clicked deep inside. Like he was a missing piece moving into place.
She’d thought leaving him before would rip her apart, but how much worse would it be now if she let this go on?
Finding her will, she pushed him back with both hands.
With a sigh, he let her move him. “Has the clock struck twelve?” he asked, no annoyance in his tone.
“We—”
“Can’t do this,” he finished for her. “See, there’s just one problem with that.”
“What?” she demanded.
Lightning quick, he darted forward to steal one last kiss. “We’re already doing it, sweetheart. And it feels pretty damn good.”
He swept the glasses up from the ground and headed back into the house, his steps smooth and unhurried.
Leaving her behind to stare after him, his taste still on her lips.
I’m in trouble here.
And her resolve was crumpling fast.