“Tell me you want that,” he demands.
“Yes,” I say as he turns me in his arms, then gasp as his mouth closes over mine. The kiss is deep and wild and deliciously intimate, and I cling to him, afraid that I will fall to the ground if I don’t.
When he breaks the kiss, he breaks all contact, and I whimper, because I was so very close to breaking apart in his arms.
“Please,” I say, but he only shakes his head and tells me to get dressed.
“But—”
“You don’t want to be late, do you?” he asks, and I grimace, because I have entirely forgotten that we are supposed to be in Malibu.
I slip on the dress then bend for my panties, but Jackson gets them first, and tucks them in his pocket. “You don’t need those.”
“Are you insane?”
“Possibly,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean you get the panties back.”
seventeen
“Mr. Steele,” Nikki says, holding out her hand to greet Jackson at the bottom of the stairs. “It’s such a pleasure to see you again. And, Syl, I love the dress.”
“Thanks. You look amazing as usual.” Nikki is blessed with the kind of girl-next-door good looks that win beauty pageants but still keep us lesser mortals from hating her. Today, she’s in a flowing blue dress that pulls off both elegant and casual. Her shoulder-length blond hair frames her face, and she seems to glow with happiness.
“Let’s get you both a drink,” she says, moving between us so she can take both me and Jackson by the arm as we walk toward the stunning staircase that leads to the Starks’ third-floor living room. “I was thrilled when Damien told me you’d agreed to do the resort. I think you’ll bring something very special to the project.”
“I’m happy to be on board,” Jackson says, and I can’t help but wonder if Nikki notices the way his eyes go to me. “Sorry we’re a bit late.”
“Traffic on PCH was a bitch,” I add, hoping Nikki can’t tell the way my cheeks are heating. Because the truth is, I don’t really want to be here. Not now. Not when I’ve got nothing on under this dress and all I want to do is feel Jackson’s hands on me.
“Not a problem,” Nikki continues easily, and I’m grateful that she cannot hear my thoughts. “Like I said, we want to keep this casual.” We pause at the base of the stairs. “Let me run through who’s here so you’ll know. It’s a small list. Just you two, me and Damien, of course. Then there’s Trent and Aiden—they’re in the real estate division,” she explains to Jackson.
“I’ve met Aiden,” Jackson says. “He was in Damien’s office when I agreed to work on the project.”
“Oh, good,” Nikki says.
“I feel like I should apologize for turning down the Bahamas project. I hope you didn’t think me unforgivably rude.”
She laughs. “Not rude, just honest. And I totally get where you were coming from. Damien’s offered to help me with my own business dozens of times, and I keep saying no. Maybe when I’m more established I’ll think about partnering with one of his subsidiaries, but right now, I want to prove that I can do it on my own. Unlike me, though, you’ve already proven yourself in spades.”
“He has,” I agree, feeling as proud of Jackson’s accomplishments as if I had designed his buildings myself.
“I appreciate the compliment,” he says as we start to climb the stairs. “What is it you do?”
“Software,” she says. “Primarily for portable devices, though I do some web-based apps, too. I’m rolling out one very soon that Damien has his eye on. It’s driving him crazy that I’m not willing to license it to the company just yet,” she adds, aiming a grin at me.
“It’s true,” I say, because Damien has mentioned her software to me on more than one occasion, noting how much it could ease workflow around the office. And every time Nikki says no, I silently applaud her and their marriage. Because in all my experience as Damien’s assistant, I think Nikki is the only person who’s ever successfully told Damien Stark no.
Her and Jackson, I amend, thinking of the Bahamas.
“—since he designed this house,” Nikki is saying.
“Sorry, I zoned out. Nathan Dean’s here?”
“He is. I thought Jackson might enjoy talking to another architect. And Evelyn wraps up the guest list.” She shrugs. “So that’s the lineup. Just a small group of people connected to the resort or Stark Real Estate or Damien personally. I didn’t want it to be overwhelming.”
“Nathan’s a little bit quiet, but a nice guy,” I tell Jackson. I spent a great deal of time on the phone and at meetings with Damien and Nathan during the design and construction process.
“And talented,” Jackson says. “At least if this house is any indication. It’s stunning,” he says to Nikki.
I know he found the outside impressive, because he commented on it as we drove up. The way the house seemed to belong to the hills, enhancing rather than overshadowing the view of the ocean in the distance. The entrance is equally awe inspiring, with a doorway that opens onto a formal living area backed by a wall of glass that reveals the infinity pool beyond. And the broad expanse of stairs acts as a second focal point, directing those staying inside to the third floor where guests are routinely entertained.
“Thanks,” Nikki says. “It was almost complete when I met Damien. I’ll take credit for the furniture and some of the paint colors. But that’s pretty much it.”
“The paint colors are stunning,” Jackson says, making her laugh. And making me smile. I like Nikki a lot. So far, I think, she likes Jackson.
We reach the third floor landing and pause there. To be honest, it’s impossible to climb these stairs and not pause at the top, because what you see upon arrival is so incredible that it takes a moment to catch your breath. The area is huge and designed for entertaining, and from where we stand we can see both the patio—the glass doors are now open to allow a stunning view of the ocean—and the stone fireplace that sits at an angle to the stairs so that it, too, faces the ocean.
That fireplace is the room’s centerpiece, and on it hangs a lifesized nude portrait, the woman’s face turned away to hide her identity. Now, though, thanks to press leaks, most of the world knows that the portrait is of Nikki.
I don’t know the entire story, but I do know that Damien paid a million dollars in exchange for Nikki’s agreement to pose nude. I have my suspicions that there were more terms to their agreement—quite possibly very sensual terms—but unless I ask Nikki outright, I’ll never know for certain.
Even so, I can’t help but see parallels between her relationship with Damien and mine with Jackson. It gives me hope, actually. Because despite all they’ve had to go through, the two of them are the strongest couple I know.
“It’s lovely,” Jackson says, still looking at the portrait. “You should be very proud of it.”