Rebecca Hunter - Best Laid Plans

Screw Harlan Blackmore and his board. This was the last straw. He had been waiting for the right moment to take control away from them for years, and this was it. His grandfather had built this business years ago to give veterans from his unit a purpose after the Vietnam War. It was the bond of the teams that made his grandfather’s business strong, not the latest PR. Okay, so his team may have gotten a little careless with their public image, but hiring a babysitter to shadow and report on Cameron smacked of his father’s dirty tactics. Harlan had latched on to this situation and intervened as a show of force. There wasn’t too much bad press at this point. Wouldn’t a warning from the board have sufficed? Then Cameron could’ve dealt with his team on his own terms. He needed to show his father and the board just how far up their asses their heads were. And the best way to do that would be to send Jackson McAllister home looking like an idiot.

He shut off the water and toweled off, then he strode into his walk-in closet and reached for a pair of jeans. One leg into them, he stopped and cursed. Probably should wear a suit for this meeting.

By the time he climbed the dock off his building, he still wasn’t thinking clearly. His boat floated peacefully in its berth. Maybe a good fast ride across the harbor would help. Buying that boat was the best decision he’d made since he moved to Sydney. No crowds, no traffic, everything in sight. Those trips across the water every day were the few moments he didn’t have to be on guard. Cameron nodded at the captain and took a seat. He enjoyed this type of travel...and he knew from his army days there were worse ways to get around. Hell, after the plane crash he’d been through, no one could fault him for being picky in that regard.

He pushed those thoughts aside.

If he’d learned anything in the military, it was just how much better things went with a clear plan. And judging from the start of his morning, he was in no state to come up with a good one. But in this pissy mood, any plan was better than none. As the boat passed under the Harbour Bridge, he sent an email to his team. Tonight at dinner they’d figure out Jackson McAllister’s weak spots. Tomorrow they’d figure out how to use them.

But planning didn’t help. When he walked through the glass doors into the Blackmore Inc. office, his mood was just as dark.

“Good morning, Mr. Blackmore.”

He bit out a greeting to Chloe, the receptionist, and headed for his office.

“Mr. Blackmore,” she called after him. “Jackson McAllister is waiting for you in the small conference room.”

He grunted but didn’t turn around. What the hell? The guy wasn’t supposed to be there for another thirty minutes. Cameron changed direction and headed straight for the conference room. He was going to have to tell that fuckwit to come back later.

He burst through the door and came to a full stop. In one of the chairs he saw a woman, not a man. The rear of a woman, to be specific, turned away, bending over a mess of papers on the floor. What the—

“Sorry. Just a moment,” came a voice from under the round table.

A voice that awakened his entire body. He gave himself a little shake. What the fuck was going on?

“I got the time mixed up...” The woman rose with a pile of papers and turned. And froze.

“Oh,” she whispered. “Damn.”

It was her. The hot-as-hell woman. His body had known the moment she spoke, and now his mind finally registered it. Her lips were pale, not red, and she was wearing glasses, but this only added to her appeal. She had her long, silky hair up in a bun. He already knew the feeling of a fistful of that hair, and he had gotten himself off to what those lips would look like around his—

“What are you doing here?” he barked.

The words came out as more of an accusation than a question. Lust must have short-circuited his brain because he still couldn’t figure out how the hell this woman had ended up at his office building.

But as he glared across the room at her, all the wonder disappeared from her expression. She took off her glasses and blinked at him a couple times before putting them back on. She narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together into a tight smile. She stood up and stuck out her hand for a handshake.

“Jackson McAllister,” she said. “The board warned me about your growling.”

Cameron screwed his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead. He opened his eyes again, but nothing changed. The same woman was still glaring at him.

“What the hell?” he whispered. “You’re not a man.”

Jackson dropped her hand and raised her eyebrows. “I think you and I already established that last night, Mr. Blackmore,” she said drily. “And you’re supposed to have a beard.”

So... She was Jackson McAllister. The person the board had sent to rein in him and his team. Or try to. And he had already given her an eye-opening welcome. Cameron rubbed his temples.

“But Jackson’s a man’s name,” he muttered to himself.

She shook her head slowly. “Why do I feel like I’m back in elementary school?”

“I’m long past elementary school, Ms. McAllister,” he snapped. “I think we established that last night, too.”

Her face betrayed no emotion, but a deep flush crept up her neck. Which brought him right back to the place his mind absolutely should not go now. The last time those cheeks reddened like that was—

Shit. What was he supposed to do now? Pull out a chair for her all gentleman-like? Ignore the fact that he had just had mind-bending sex with her less than twelve hours ago? He huffed out a breath and sank into his own chair at the table.

He crossed his arms and leaned back, scrambling to get a handle on the situation. Wait. He’d had no idea who she was last night, but had she known who he was? Was this part of some larger scheme to “tame” him? He nearly snarled at the thought. It sure as hell hadn’t felt that way. And when he walked into the conference room, she’d looked just as confused as he had felt. But he couldn’t rule it out.

“You had to know it was me last night,” he said slowly. “Didn’t the board give you photos or something?”

Jackson rolled her eyes. “I didn’t spend hours gazing at your profile, if that’s what you mean. You had a beard in most of them, and last night I took my contacts out because my eyes were killing me.”

Well, those glasses gave her an innocent-but-naughty look that would turn him on right here if he kept thinking about it. Fighting for calm, he said, “Screw it. Let’s do this.”

Her eyes snapped up to meet his, and another blush washed over her cheeks. Wait—did he just catch her staring at his biceps? She sat down quickly in her chair and smoothed her skirt over her legs. She grabbed the files she had just collected from the floor and cleared her throat.

“I’m here to give you a boost of intensive public relations support,” she said. “I’ll be looking at every detail of your day and coming up with a plan for improvement.”

“Any suggestions so far?” The comment slipped out before he could think better of it. And fuck if she didn’t lick her lips before she could think better of it.

But the glossy look in her eyes quickly switched back to a glare. “The board wants a detailed report,” she said sharply. “And there I’ll make suggestions for the future.”

All his retorts faded. He hadn’t missed the board’s veiled threat. If Cameron didn’t run his company the Harlan Blackmore way, someone else would. But he hadn’t missed Jackson’s threat, either. And the glare she still fixed on him said the same thing: Don’t mess with me.

Cameron ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “How the hell do you propose we make this work, Jackson?”