That makes sense. Evelyn Dodge, Damien’s friend and former agent, has been around Hollywood forever. And nobody knows how to spin a story better than Evelyn.
“Anything else you need me for?” I ask.
“No. I think that’s all for now.”
“Okay. Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” I head toward the door.
“Actually, there is one more thing.”
I pause and look back over my shoulder.
“You should give Nikki a call. I know she’s been wanting to reschedule your photography date. Maybe you two could find a time for that lesson with Wyatt.”
I nod. “Sounds good.” And then, because I understand that this isn’t about business anymore, but about friendship, I add, “Thanks.”
As soon as the door shuts behind me, Rachel squeals and runs around the desk. “Jackson told me. That’s so great.”
“I know,” I say, succumbing to her hug. “Speaking of the men in our lives, what’s going on with you and Trent?”
She presses her lips together, then hurries back behind the desk to catch a call. “A lady never kisses and tells,” she quips, then hits the button on her headset. “Mr. Stark’s office,” she says as she winks at me.
I laugh, but I don’t stay. I know Rachel won’t hold it against me; I want to go see Jackson.
Since I have energy to burn, I take the stairs, stopping at my cubicle on twenty-seven to grab up my notes. Then I hurry down the last flight, my heels clattering on the concrete stairs, and slam, breathless, through the stairwell door.
I lean against the wall as I catch my breath. The stairs exit only a few yards from Jackson’s office area, and I have an excellent view of him through the glass walls. He’s sitting on a stool in front of the very same drafting table on which he’d fucked me so thoroughly. And though his head is bent, I can see enough of his face to catch his expression and it is both intent and rapturous.
He’s in his element, and that simple realization makes me so giddy that I have half a mind to race back upstairs and wrap Damien in a hug.
I manage to restrain myself. Instead, I take a single step toward Jackson.
Despite his intense concentration, the moment I move, he inclines his head, as if sensing my presence. He doesn’t look up, though, and so I continue on.
“I’m back,” he says as I reach his doorway, still without looking in my direction.
My smile blooms wide. “Yes, you are.”
He pushes away from the desk, the stool rolling easily on the concrete floor. As he does, I rush to him, practically flying into his open arms. I drop my notes on his desk then straddle him, and he spins us in the chair. When it stops, my back is pressed against the table, and I’m more than a little light-headed. But whether that’s from dizziness or from being in Jackson’s arms, I don’t know.
“You’re back.” My whisper echoes his earlier words, and I press my hand gently to his crotch. “And I know just what you want to do now.”
His brow lifts. “Is that so?”
“Mm-hmm.” I bend forward so that my lips brush his ear as I murmur, very low and very seductively, “You want to work.”
My other hand is on his back for balance, and the vibrations from his laughter roll through me. “Sweetheart, you do know how to turn a man on.”
“You don’t know the half of it. Did you see the folder I tossed on your desk?” I lean back so that I can see him, then thrust out my tits and slowly bite my lower lip in my best imitation of an X-rated movie star. “Building notes and specs,” I say huskily. “It’s like porn for architects.”
His expression doesn’t change, but I see the mirth in his eyes.
I reach back and grab the folder, then wave it slowly through the air. “Come on, baby. You know you want it.”