Mr. CEO

“Lucky guess. And these are exactly a nine. Come on, my treat, Katrina.”


I roll my eyes and take the skirt and the sandals into the changing room, trying them on. The way the cotton hugs my hips is sexy, and again, without even knowing it maybe, Jackson's made me feel pretty. I make a mistake putting the sandals on, forgetting to take off my socks until the little thong that goes between my toes gets stopped, and I adjust myself quickly, thankful that the sandals have a little bit of elastic that goes around my ankles to keep them from flapping around. I step out, and Jackson's expression is worth any sort of discomfort over being in such strange clothing. “Well?”

“We're getting it and the sandals,” Jackson says immediately, going over to the register. “In fact, she's wearing it out. Can you bag up the other stuff?”

I'm blushing and trying to back into the changing room again, and Jackson rushes over, taking my hand. “Come on Katrina, please?” he asks quietly, the clerk giving us space. “I'm serious, you look amazing in it, and it'd go so well with dinner. You said you wanted to look pretty. Well, right now you're the prettiest woman I've ever seen in my life.”

I nod, and our lips move closer, and I don't know who's closing the distance but I want it. He's so close, inches away, now just an inch...

My phone rings, and I step back, shaking my head. “Sorry, I... sorry.”

“No, it's okay,” Jackson says, letting go of my hand. “Listen, I'll go take care of this with the clerk. Just bring your stuff up from the changing room and we can get some dinner.”

I see that the call's from Darcy, and the reality of why I'm in Miami comes back to me, and I answer the phone. “Yeah, Darcy?”

“I just got a call from my cousin. They got out to all three places, they had the pics you gave me of your parents. They got a visual on your mother. They're living at the second address you gave me, down in Coral Gables I'm told.”

“Thanks, Darcy. We'll go check it out.”

Darcy hums, then replies. “You sure you don't want any backup on this? I mean, I know Jackson's trying to be a good guy, but this could be... difficult.”

“No, I'm sure. Let me talk with Jackson, and I'll get back to you.”

“All right. You take care, you hear? Bye.”

Darcy hangs up and I put my phone back in my pants pocket, tempted to duck into the changing room and put on my pants again. In the end, I remember another line from Hagakure. Matters of great concern are to be treated lightly. Matters of small concern should be treated seriously.

I fold up my pants carefully and carry them along with my shoes out to the front, where Jackson's face is haunted when he sees me. “Good news?”

I nod, and Jackson sighs. I reach out and tap him on the shoulder. “We'll talk about it over dinner. Tonight, though... we're going to have a nice dinner together, and we can worry about Darcy's phone call tomorrow.”

We go on our way, and as we walk out of the store, he takes my hand again. “Are you sure?”

“It's all right. I don't want to rush in all emotional, and this will give me a chance to calm down and enjoy time with you. So, where are we going for dinner, anyway?”

“Figured Cuban food tonight. This area's famous for their Cuban places, and there's a spot that I went to last time I really liked. Don't worry, it's been years since I've been to Miami, so I doubt anyone will recognize me. Especially since my cock isn't hanging out.”

His joke breaks the tension, and we laugh, heading back to the car to drop off my stuff before enjoying the rest of the night. “Okay, let's enjoy the night.”





Chapter 18





Jackson





Despite Katrina's kind offer to share the bed with me, I sleep like shit. It's not that the bed is too soft, or too hard, or anything like that. The room's nice enough, and the air conditioner works fine.

The problem is Katrina. I wake up three times in the night, each time in a cold sweat worried that something is wrong with her, looking around. I lie back, trying my best to relax and not wake her, but I can't help it, and I toss and turn for a while before dropping off into a light, disturbed sleep again.

My mind keeps whirling with images from last night, of her smile as she and I walked along Ocean Drive, or the way she enjoyed the Cuban food we had together, and especially how beautiful she was in her new skirt. Finally, at five in the morning, I give up and turn over, peeking over the blanket we've rolled up and placed between us, watching Katrina in the early morning sunlight. She really does have the face of an angel, and in sleep the constant tension she carries almost all the time is gone, making her look softer, more vulnerable, and achingly beautiful.

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