Best Laid Plans. Rebecca Hunter
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?”
She let out a little sigh. Her eyes softened, and she pushed her glasses up her nose. For a moment, she looked just as mixed up about the situation as he was. But when she spoke again, her voice was steady and all business.
“We just forget about last night and do our jobs,” she said. “I’m over it. You’re a big boy. You can get past it, too, can’t you?”
She knew just how much of a big boy he was, but now wasn’t the time to point this out.
“I think I can manage that,” he said drily. “Let’s get to work.”
She opened a file and pushed it toward him. He picked up the printouts of newspaper articles and photos one by one. He had seen most of them before. They featured various members of his team with different women from different jobs. Most of them weren’t remarkable. He could see her point, too—he did have a beard in most of them.
“These are clients,” he said.
She picked up one of Max and a high-profile actress. He was whispering something in her ear, and if the sultry smile on her face was any indication, she was ready for him to do a lot more.
“He looks more like a male escort than a bodyguard,” she said.
Cameron took the photo back. “What can I say? He’s good at his job.”
He continued through the pile. He found a photo of himself coming out of a pub with two women, one on each side. He was talking to one, and the other was holding on to his bicep, her mouth next to his ear.
His gaze flicked up to meet hers. “That’s not what it looks like.”
“Let me guess,” she said sweetly. “You’re good at your job, too?”
He rested his gaze on her. “I am good at my job.” He added softly, “And aside from that, I prefer to enjoy women one at a time.”
She didn’t answer, but she lost some of the hardness in her expression. What was going on in her mind right now? Did she like more than one man at a time? The idea boiled in him. Hell, no. But that was the last thing he should be getting upset about right now. Nothing was going to happen between them again. Not a bloody thing.
He leafed through the rest of the photos and articles until he came to one that made him stop. It was a single photo with no words. There was no other indication of where it came from except for a long web address at the top of the page.
“Where did you find this?” he snapped.
Jackson took the paper from his hand and studied it. “I’m not sure about this one. We ran a search on the company’s name and all your team members’ names and printed out everything we came across from this last year. Why are you asking?”
“That’s not a client. That’s Derek Latu with his wife, Laurie.”
“He’s married?” she asked, as if this were the last thing she expected to hear.
“Very happily. Surprised?” Cameron gave her a pointed look. “I told you this shit doesn’t tell the whole story.” He gestured to the photo. “Yes, he has a wife, but she stays far away from any press. She’s had some stalker issues in the past.”
“Oh.” Jackson looked at the web address again. “It doesn’t come from anywhere I recognize.”
“That’s what worries me.” He looked at the photo once more and set it aside on the table. “Can I keep this? I want to show it to Derek.”
Jackson nodded and gathered together the rest of the clippings.
“Whether these photos represent jobs or—” she waved her hand around as if she were searching for the right words “—or other encounters is beside the point from a PR perspective. This is going to become the Blackmore Inc. image if you don’t make some changes.”
“Says my father,” finished Cameron with more than a little bitterness.
He thought she’d deny it, but she didn’t. Instead, Jackson gave him a look that was almost sympathetic. “Yes. But it’s important for the company, too. Especially if you’re saying we’re not seeing the whole story.”
“Even though the Australian division of Blackmore Inc. is doing better now than it was when my father ran the show?”
“Yep. Probably even because of it.”
Cameron sighed. Well, at least they were on the same page in that regard.
“All right,” he grumbled. “What’s next?”
Jackson flipped through her file to the first pages, biting her lip. Cameron couldn’t keep his eyes off those plump, soft lips that had promised him so much pleasure the night before. What would it feel like if she—
“I just want to make sure I have all the basics,” she said, looking up at him. Her eyes rounded.
Shit. Were his thoughts so transparent?
Jackson’s eyes skittered away and she cleared her throat. “You and three other men make up your main team for on-the-ground security. Max Jensen comes from a prominent ranching family in Australia, and you two were roommates at Princeton. He’s the one with his photo on the front page of the papers.”
Cameron scowled. “He’s also the one who brought both clients and credibility into the Australian market when I took over. His family’s name goes a long way down here.”
She nodded and jotted a few notes before looking back up. “After you both graduated, he returned to Australia and played rugby, where he met Derek Latu. You enlisted in the army.”
Cameron gave a dry laugh. “Much to my father’s dismay.”
“But not your grandfather’s, I’m assuming,” she said. “Following his path, the way he built this company.”
Very good, Jackson McAllister. He crossed his arms and waited.
“You and Simon Rodriguez were in the same unit,” she continued, “and when you both returned, you hired him.”
Cameron nodded.
Jackson flipped the page and scanned it. “Not long after, your grandfather put you in charge of Australia and moved your father back to New York.” She raised her gaze to his.