“The point is, you haven’t forgotten it, have you?”
“No,” Casey said. She hadn’t forgotten. Worse, she’d dreamed of Jackson almost every night. She kept waking up hot and flushed, with the memory of his hands on her skin. And that memory, rather than fading, was only getting stronger. With only a small effort, she could almost taste his kiss again.
And she didn’t want to admit just how often she expended that effort.
“But,” she said, lifting her chin before taking a sip of her tea, hoping the icy drink would cool her off a little, “that doesn’t mean I’d make the same mistake again. Once bitten and all that.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You know, a little support wouldn’t be out of line,” Casey said, frowning.
“Oh, I’m supportive,” Dani argued, her voice low enough that no one else who worked with her could overhear, “but I still don’t think it’s a good idea for you to meet him face-to-face, so to speak, again. With the kind of news you’re going to deliver, I really think you’d be better off making a phone call from a safe distance.”
Probably. But she couldn’t do that. She really resented being put in this position, but there was nothing she could do about it now. By all rights, Casey never should have had to make this decision. Things had changed though and she’d been backed into a corner. So there was really only one thing to do. The right thing.
“Nope,” she said. “I have to tell him. And I have to do it while I’m looking at him.”
“Never could change your mind once it was made up,” Dani muttered.
“True.”
“Just be careful, okay?” her friend said. “He’s one of the Kings, you know. They practically own half of California. If he decides to, he could make your life really difficult.”
Fear curled in the pit of Casey’s stomach. She’d considered that already. But she’d done her homework. She’d done research on Jackson. She knew he was the playboy type. The footloose and fancy-free kind of man. The kind who didn’t want entanglements.
So she was pretty sure that despite the news she had to deliver, he wasn’t going to make trouble for her. He’d probably thank her for the information, offer to write her a check—as if she’d take money for this—and then quietly go back to his lifestyle of easy women and mega money.
“He won’t,” Casey said firmly, wondering if she were trying to convince herself or Dani.
“I hope you’re right,” her friend said. “Because you’re certainly betting a lot on the outcome of this.”
Oh, Casey was well aware of that.
Three
Jackson looked across the table at the woman he was planning to marry and felt the slightest buzz of interest for her. But compared to what he had felt for his mystery woman, it was the voltage of a double A battery alongside the frenzied energy of a nuclear power plant.
He’d assumed that whatever attraction there was between them would grow with time. Hadn’t happened yet though and he was forced again to remember the instant chemical reaction between he and Casey Whoever during their one night together. And what kind of statement was it that he’d had a better time with a perfect stranger than he was having with the woman he was expected to propose to? Images of Casey smiling, Casey naked, reaching for him, filled his mind and despite everything, Jackson felt his body burn and his chest tighten.
His mystery woman.
What had she been after?
She’d deliberately seduced him. Gone out of her way to entice him, then disappeared without a backward look. Who did that? And why?
If he didn’t get answers soon, he was going to go nuts.
“My father says you’re interested in the airstrip in upstate New York,” Marian said, snapping Jackson’s focus back to her.
As it should be. Didn’t he have the damned engagement ring in his pocket? Wasn’t he planning on proposing tonight? He had plans for his life and they didn’t include mystery women, so best for him to get on with this.
“Yes, it’s big enough for several flights a day and I’ve already worked out a new schedule with my pilots,” he said, lifting his coffee cup for a sip. Dinner was over and there was only dessert left on the table. Naturally, Marian would no more eat the chocolate mousse she’d ordered than she would dance naked on the tabletop.
If there was one thing Jackson had learned about the woman over the last couple of months, it was that she was far more interested in how things looked than how things really were. She was painfully thin and ate almost nothing whenever they went out. And yet, she always ordered heartily, then spent her time pushing the food around on her plate with her fork.
His mystery woman, he recalled, had had curves. A body designed to allow a man to sink into her softness, cradle himself in her warmth.
Damn it.
Marian was watching him through calm brown eyes. Her dark brown hair was tucked into a knot on the back of her neck and her long-sleeved, high-necked black dress made her look even thinner and less approachable than usual. Why was he suddenly looking at Marian with different eyes?
And why couldn’t he stop?
The small velvet box in the pocket of his suit coat felt as if it were on fire. Its presence was a constant reminder of what he was there to do and yet, he hadn’t quite been able to bring himself to ask the question Marian was no doubt waiting to hear.
When he felt the vibration of his cell phone, Jackson reached for it gratefully. “Sorry,” he said. “Business.”
She nodded and Jackson glanced at the screen. He didn’t recognize the number, but flipped the phone open anyway and said, “Jackson King.”
“This is Casey.”
His heart jumped in his chest. Even if she hadn’t identified herself, he would have recognized that voice. He’d been hearing it in his sleep for days. But how the hell had she gotten this number? A question for another time. He shot a quick look at Marian, watching him, then keeping his own voice low and level, he said, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”
“Now’s your chance,” she said and he heard the hesitation in her tone. “I’m at Drake’s coffee shop on Pacific Coast Highway.”
“I know the place.”
“We need to talk. How soon can you get here?”
Jackson looked at Marian again and felt a small stab of relief at being able to escape this dinner and avoid asking the question he’d come there to ask. “Give me a half hour.”
“Fine.” She hung up instantly.
Jackson closed his phone, tucked it into his pocket and looked at the woman opposite him.
“Trouble?” she asked.
“A bit,” he said, grateful she wasn’t going to demand explanations. No doubt she was used to her father bolting out of dinners to take care of business. Reaching into his wallet, he pulled out the money required for the bill and a hefty tip. Then he stood up and asked, “I’ll take you home first.”
“Not necessary,” she said, lifting her coffee cup for a sip. “I’ll finish my coffee and get myself home.”
That didn’t set well. Bad enough he was leaving her to go meet another woman. The least he could do was see her home. But Marian had a mind of her own.
“Don’t be foolish, Jackson. I’m perfectly capable of calling a cab. Go. Take care of business.”
He