Something in the far reaches of my mind answers me, You can think about it until the day you die, Camille. If he’s good with it… you should find out.
I jolt in my seat over my subconscious basically telling me I’d have to try it out to know whether I could get it out of my brain, as that is absolutely not going to happen.
Jackson’s brow furrows slightly as he stares at me. I imagine a myriad of emotions just crossed my face as I battle my inner devil, goading me to make my inappropriate thoughts come true.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again, his expression concerned.
“Fine,” I assure him, but there’s no hiding the tremble in my voice. I attempt what I hope is a confident smile. “Just tired from last night.”
“Anything I can get you?” he asks as he rises from his seat.
And the move is so unexpected, my gaze doesn’t rise with him. Instead, as he stands in the aisle, his crotch basically eye level, I stare at the front of his jeans.
Of course, there’s no erection, although admittedly, he wears jeans very, very well.
It’s not hard to imagine what that ridged outline looks like behind the dark denim. Maybe hanging just left of the zipper.
There’s a cough, and I jerk, my eyes flying upward. Jackson stares hard at me but in no way that I can discern what he’s thinking. He’s not amused. Not angry. Not offended.
I mean… he just caught me blatantly staring at his crotch, probably with a longing look on my face, and I don’t have an inkling as to how that makes him feel.
That’s worse than actually knowing how he might feel about it.
Once again, the heat in my face is like an inferno. I decide the courtly thing to do is apologize, but before I can utter a single word, he says, “I’m going to head back up front. Let me know if you need anything.”
My throat is tight. I can’t even squeak out an “okay,” so I merely nod.
Jackson turns back up the aisle, and God help me, I’m going straight to hell. I check out his ass as he walks away.
CHAPTER 8
Jackson
I’ve never been a fan of New York City. Not really any of the big cities like Chicago, LA, or Dallas. I know it sounds un-American to not like the symbols of our nation’s wealth, growth, culture, and commerce, but the concrete jungle isn’t for me.
Give me a house in the country—at least within fifteen minutes of a decent grocery store—and I’m a happy man. I’m currently renting an apartment at Jameson headquarters, but I’ve been on the lookout for a little slice of mountain heaven on the outskirts of Pittsburgh.
The other thing I cannot stand about big cities is the crowded bustle. Millions of people all swimming upstream to get somewhere. I hate the smell, the honking horns, and the subways thick with commuters standing shoulder to shoulder. I’m not antisocial, but I like my space. I don’t like to be boxed in or controlled.
I told Ladd not too long ago about my aversion to big-city life—not that Pittsburgh is an overly big city—and he told me I was uncouth.
I looked at him as if he were crazy, but he explained about the importance of literature, the arts, fine dining, and advanced learning institutions only found in big cities. I didn’t disagree with him but merely pointed out that I could fly in for a weekend visit to New York City to catch a Broadway play if I wanted and fly back to my peaceful homestead well outside the city limits.
He merely laughed and said, “Touché.”
We’re going to hit a lot of big cities during Camille’s trip, but I’m glad we’re knocking New York out first since it’s my least favorite.
Too many fucking people.
Camille, on the other hand, loves it. On her itinerary—composed of business meetings and touristy things she wanted to do—was her very simple desire to just walk the city streets. Our protection plan for this request was simple enough. Me at her side, agents to the front, and agents to the rear. Her itinerary was top secret, known only to me, Ladd, Cruce, Dozer, and Dmitri. The additional security agents, coordinated and in place via Ladd’s direction, didn’t know their assignments until the morning of their duty day. This prevented information getting leaked—either intentionally or inadvertently—thus subverting kidnappers with well-laid plans.
Yesterday was our first full day in the city, packed with back-to-back meetings and events. Camille met with the owner of a high-end jeweler to discuss her family’s product. I got quite the education on rubies and was surprised to learn the Winterbournes’ immense wealth is not due to the quantity of gemstones from their mines but the quality. Their stones do not need to be treated or enhanced to remove imperfections and improve clarity.