Traded by Lisa Suzanne
CHAPTER 24
We take a car provided by the credit card company Jack will be filming a commercial for to the airport. In fact, the company is paying for basically everything on this trip.
It makes me realize how big a deal Jack Dalton actually is.
“Do you like traveling?” I ask on our way toward the airport.
“Love it,” he says. “But the majority of my travel is work-related, so I don’t get to really enjoy the cities I’m in. It’s always a circus anyway when I try to get out.”
“That night we went to dinner with your family—that wasn’t a circus,” I point out.
He shakes his head. “No, you’re right. Because we rented out the back-half of the place and positioned ourselves so nobody would spot us.”
I hadn’t realized all that.
“That’s the kind of life I live,” he continues, “and unless I’m being paid to be seen somewhere, it’s easier to just stay home.”
“But you don’t.”
He shakes his head. “Nah. Where’s the fun in that?”
“Will you have time for fun this trip? A chance to enjoy the city?”
He lifts a shoulder and stares out the window. “The agenda is tight. As my assistant, you should probably know my schedule is all booked up.”
“Where are we at on that whole shared calendar thing?” I ask.
He laughs. “Same place we’ve always been.” He takes a screenshot of something on his phone and texts it to me. “That’s our agenda for the next two days.”
I read it over. As soon as we land, we’ll be ushered to a studio to practice filming the commercial. Then we’ll be taken to dinner, where we will dine with credit card executives. We’ll be released to our hotel, and in the morning we’ll shoot the commercial. We’re scheduled to be done by three, and our flight back to Vegas is at five.
I see what he means about not having the chance to enjoy the city he’s in while he’s there.
“What about you?” he asks. “Do you like to travel?”
I nod. “Yeah. I haven’t done a ton of it. My parents are both hard workers and had small windows of days off, so our trips were usually drivable and fairly local. Vegas was the furthest west I’d been when I moved here for college.”
His gaze is fixed down on his hands. “My family took vacations when I was younger. Then I went off to college and was drafted and it got harder and harder. My little sister started a tradition where we meet somewhere for a week every summer. It was the only week out of the year my entire family got to be together for more than a day or two at a time.”
“That sounds fun,” I say. “Where did you go last year?”
“Hawaii,” he says. “Luke and Ellie got married while we were all there. I was an asshole.” He scrubs a hand along his jaw and winces a little, and I get the impression there’s a level of regret involved in that. Admitting it is the first step toward healing, though.
“But you’re all on good terms now,” I point out.
He nods. “Yeah. We are. It was a rough road getting back there, and I certainly didn’t make it any easier. But you can’t live life with regrets.” His eyes are out the window again. “I guess you just...” He shrugs. “Move forward.”
We’re dropped at a private entrance I didn’t know existed at this airport, ending that conversation, but I feel like he opened up just a little. I can only hope he continues to do so as we spend time together over the next two days.
We land in Los Angeles, just as the agenda he sent me said, and we’re ushered off to a skyscraper downtown. Once we’re in the lobby, Jack strolls over toward a man grinning at him as he walks toward us. They meet in the middle for a handshake-turned-slap-on-the-back-hug.
“Tom, this is Kate,” Jack says, introducing the two of us. “Kate, this is my agent, Tom.”
“Tom Levinson,” he says, reaching out a hand to shake mine. His eyes are intense—dark but still friendly, and he looks like the kind of guy who can be a shark in the boardroom as he cuts business deals, but he can be a trustworthy and loyal friend, too. He’s quite attractive, and it’s those intense eyes that sort of just draw me in. “A pleasure to meet you.” He glances at Jack. “She’s the babysitter?”
“The assistant,” Jack says thickly, but there’s still merriment in his eyes at his agent’s teasing.
“They’re waiting for us upstairs,” Tom says, and we follow him toward a bank of elevators.
Once we’re upstairs, we’re ushered back to a conference room. Introductions are made, and we all sit around the table a few minutes while the executives in the room explain what Jack will do.
After about an hour, Tom and I are led to the room next door. Our conference room has a window that looks over the room Jack is in. It’s one of those one way mirror windows, and I keep my eyes trained on Jack as I stand in front of it.
Tom comes up to my side and looks at Jack with me.
“He's different with you, you know.”
My eyes don’t leave Jack as I ask, “How?"
“I've known him a lot of years. I've been with him since the beginning. I've seen him through Savannah, through some actresses, a stripper or two, a singer, a few models, escorts, all the other random girls he picked up at bars, women he was with on nightclub couches...” He clears his throat meaningfully. Okay, I get it. He knows Jack and I were once together. “He wasn't like this with any of them. Apart from Savannah and Michelle, he didn’t keep any of them around more than a couple nights. He didn’t nickname any of them, and yet you’re Kia.” He shakes his head as he stares at Jack. “His whole demeanor is different. He seems more...relaxed. At first I figured it was because Michelle wasn’t here, but now I’m wondering if it’s because you are here.”
I glance over at Tom, but I don’t know what to say.
His eyes meet mine when he turns toward me, and then he looks at Jack again. “He doesn't love Michelle.” His tone is flat.
“I know.”
“So what does that mean for you?” he asks.
My eyes are trained on Jack again. I don’t know how much to give up to this guy. I don’t know what will get back to Jack. And so I settle on the truth as I see it. “It means Jack is engaged to another woman. Until that stops being true, it means I’m his behavior coach.”
“Right.” Tom nods, and that’s the end of that conversation.
I wish I had the nerve to ask more questions of one of the few people who seems to know Jack well, but I don’t.
* * *
I’m a little tipsy.
I’m not drunk, but the dinner included wine with each course and my tolerance is shot since my job taking care of two kids for the last two years didn’t allow much time for drinks.
One of the executives handed Jack a key to a hotel room downtown somewhere, and once the car deposits us into the lobby of said hotel, we take the elevator up to the room.
It’s just the two of us, and it’s quiet in here.
Is it just me, or is there an underlying sexual tension burning between us?
It’s just me. Definitely. Or the wine. At least I think it is until I meet his eye in the reflection of the elevator door and a certain heat passes between the two of us.
Maybe it’s not just me.
He opens the door to our suite, and there’s a huge room with a couch and a big table with six chairs. It must be some sort of executive suite. We walk through the room toward a door to the bedroom, and sure enough...there’s just one bed. I spot both our suitcases on racks inside the closet. How’d they get here before us?
“I’ll sleep on the couch,” I offer.
His eyes meet mine. “Nonsense. It’s a king. We can just...” He shrugs. “Sleep on our own sides.”
“Whatever,” I mutter, mostly because I’m freaking tired after traveling and then all the wine.
I walk over to my suitcase and grab the items I need to get ready for bed, and then I disappear into the bathroom for a few minutes. The wine hasn’t really let up yet, and part of me wants to walk out of the bathroom completely naked and seduce Mr. Jack Dalton.
I don’t, obviously, but wine makes me horny. Or Jack does. And the combination of the two should be illegal.
I choose my side of the bed while he uses the restroom next. I sit on top of the covers and pull up the book I was reading on the Kindle app on my phone.
He emerges from the restroom wearing just a pair of mesh shorts a minute later, and I squeeze my legs together to try to help keep the ache suddenly between them in check.
It doesn’t help.
I keep my eyes focused down on my phone. I have to.
It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.
“You’re on my side,” he says.
“Should’ve gone first, then,” I retort, and he chuckles as he climbs in beside me.
The king size bed seemed big when I was standing on the floor looking at it, but when Jack with his long, lean frame gets in beside me, it feels much smaller.
Is he on my side? I think he might be.
I glance over at him as he shifts into place, and I shouldn’t have done that because now I can both see and smell him and how the hell am I supposed to sleep in the same bed as him without doing something about it?
I draw in a deep breath. Another mistake since I’m simply drawing in Jack Dalton.
He stretches his legs out in front of him and sits up against the headboard, leaning on a pillow the same way I am. He bumps his knee against mine, and he leaves his there.
“Did you have a good night?” I ask softly.
“Oh, Katie,” he says, and his voice is low and deep and raspy and fuck if it doesn’t press directly on that ache already throbbing low down in my belly. Something about that nickname for me out of his mouth simply overwhelms me. “It was fine, but I know a way we can make it memorable.” His voice is husky and dripping with sex, and I know if I glance over at him, his eyes will be smoldering at me.
My cheeks turn red. As much as I want exactly what he’s offering—whatever it is—memorable doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.
So instead of answering, instead of looking over at him, instead of tempting him, instead of giving into whatever I think I might be feeling, I set my phone down, flick off my bedside lamp, turn away from him, and pull the covers over me. And then I whisper quietly, “Good night, Jack.”
