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Jackson’s door is open, but I don’t see him inside. I make my way to the kitchen and almost break into tears when I see he’s made coffee. There’s a Post-it note on the carafe that says he went for a run.
I blow out a relieved breath. At least I don’t have to deal with him and what happened last night before my first cup of coffee. I find the mugs and pour myself some. During my shower, I decided the best way to handle our fake relationship is to look at it like a script. We need to play out scenes, block them out - all the touches and kisses and romantic looks will be carefully placed. No surprises.
I gather everything and head out to the patio to work out some ideas. I settle into one of the pool chaise loungers and get started. When I think I have a good start planned out, I set my laptop aside and pick up my book. Reading a romance novel, a very spicy one too, while drinking wine with a very hot bodyguard across the hall was clearly a very bad idea last night. My body, and imagination, went into overdrive.
Not wanting to think about my idiocy, I open my book and dive into another world. It isn’t long before Camilla and Nick are steaming up the page and my body is tingling. I reach over and grab my coffee and take a sip. It’s cold, but I probably don’t need anything heating me up any more than I already am anyway.
“Morning.”
I jump at the sound of Jackson’s voice at my shoulder. My coffee sloshes and spills over my bare legs as I toss my book aside, not wanting it to get wet.
“Shit! Are you okay?”
Before I can reply, Jackson has ripped off his shirt and is using it to wipe off the coffee off my legs.
“Is it burning?”
Am I burning? Hell yes, I am. Jackson is touching me with all his sculpted ab muscles and strong biceps on display. My body is literally on fire. And now I have a detailed view of the tattoo I saw from the pool. It’s a quarter sleeve depicting armor over his shoulder and down his bicep with a smaller portion crawling onto his pec just over where his heart lies. The artist made it look like the skin has been peeled away to reveal the armor underneath. There’s nothing particularly ornate or beautiful about the armor itself other than the artist’s amazing talent. No coat of arms or symbols of any sort. It’s simple, rugged - its only purpose is to protect.
I might not know him well, but I know this tattoo fits him perfectly. Protector. Guarded.
“Autumn!”
I snap out of my thoughts and realize why he’s so frantic. “It was cold. I’m fine.”
He stops drying me off and stares at me, annoyance snapping his brows together before he stands up straight. “You could have mentioned that sooner.”
“Sorry, you surprised me.”
A hard sigh leaves him before he snaps his shirt and puts it over his head and back on his body. There are clear sweat marks at the neck and armpits and now several brown spots dotting the chest area where he cleaned up the coffee.
“How was your run?”
“Good.” he says gruffly. Nothing about his demeanor is giving away that he watched me last night. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was already asleep.
“I’m going to shower,” he says.
“Hey, can we talk first?” I ask before he can walk away.
His eyes widen a fraction and when his gaze quickly flicks down to my chest before coming back my face, my stomach twists. He watched me. My cheeks start to burn and I’m sure he’ll notice, but it’ll be a cold day in hell before I acknowledge it.
“Sit.” I point to the chaise next to me.
He stiffens and it calms me a little that he seems unsure. Yet he doesn’t argue and sits. “What’s up?”
“Home & Heart is keeping my contracts intact for now. Apparently, what I said at the airport sparked a lot of support against sexual harassment.”
His mouth cracks into a grin. “Yeah, I saw.”
I shake my head. “I haven’t even looked at it. The H&H CEO told me about it. Hey, I’m all for a positive movement in women’s rights, and anything that will keep my career alive. But I can’t have any more bad press. I need to show the world I’m living a Home & Heart life.”
“What are you getting at?”
“You and I need to be caught by the camera, in wholesome ways. Being lovey-dovey and romantic. No more kisses.”
An amused expression fills his face. “You want to be romantic without kissing?”
“Well, there can be kisses. It needs to be Home & Heart kissing. Sweet pecks. Not ‘I’m devouring her face’ kisses.”
