"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."
"I am," she says. "I always was. But that doesn't mean I wasn't pissed off when the press took my secrets and ran with them."
"I understand exactly what you mean," Jackson says, and I know that he is thinking about the movie. "I'd love to meet the artist."
"That's Blaine." I look at Nikki. "Is he here with Evelyn?"
"He's not. He's up in Vancouver for a show. But I'm sure he'd love to talk to you when he gets back. Wyatt's here, though. I forgot to mention him earlier."
"Our photographer," I tell Jackson. "I've got a portfolio of images of the island to show you. I want to include them in a marketing brochure, and I thought they'd also make cool artwork for the public areas, maybe the individual rooms. I haven't chosen a designer yet. But I'd like your thoughts on that. I want to make sure that we hire someone who knows how to work with your design and not against it."
He meets my eyes. "Absolutely."
I nod, satisfied and, I realize, happy. Because it's not just our personal relationship that's come together, it's our professional one, too. And the idea of working with someone as talented as Jackson Steele thrills me even more than working with a man like Damien. Not that I don't love my job and think that Damien is freaking brilliant at what he does, but it's what Jackson does--designing buildings, changing the face of the world--that has always been my passion. And now to be able to share that core of him--well, the thought makes me a little bit giddy.
His smile widens, and I am absolutely certain he knows what I am thinking.
"Come on," I say with a smirk. "Let's go say hello to Damien."
"Actually, he asked if I'd apologize to you," Nikki said. "There's been a crisis at one of his production facilities in Malaysia. He had to take the call. In the meantime, let's get you both a drink and make the introductions. Wine or something harder?" she asks Jackson as she leads us toward the kitchen area tucked away behind a stone wall on the opposite side of the floor.
As far as this house is concerned, it's a small kitchen designed to service parties. In fact, it puts most residential kitchens to shame, and the main kitchen for this ten-thousand-square-foot Malibu dream house is on the first
floor, decked out with more commercial appliances than most five-star restaurants.
What impresses me most isn't the setup or the luxury, it's that Nikki and Damien haven't hired any help for the party. Even Damien's valet, Gregory, who doubles as a sort of butler, is nowhere to be seen. Because despite Damien's billions and the helipad in the backyard, at the core these two people are pretty down-to-earth.
I know that Jackson has issues with Damien, but I don't understand them. And I hope that whatever is at the heart of them can be resolved, because I both like and respect my boss, and I truly value the friendship I've developed with Nikki.
Once Jackson and I are armed with scotch for him and wine for me, we head back into the main area to do the mingle thing. I'm a little nervous in light of our new arrangement. And for the first fifteen or so minutes I feel jittery and on edge, afraid--and, yes, hoping--that he'll pull me aside and slide his hand under my skirt.
He doesn't, and I'm not sure if I'm disappointed that he hasn't tried to push my boundaries here, or pleased that he's in full-on professional mode.
And he is, too. Jackson is cool and confident with everyone he meets. He greets Aiden enthusiastically and once again thanks him for the opportunity to work on such a cutting-edge project. He compliments my skill as a project manager and elicits effusive praise from Aiden on my behalf, which is a perk of having Jackson at my side that I hadn't anticipated.
"She fits right in with the team on twenty-seven. We're hoping we can steal her permanently off Damien's desk, aren't we, Trent?" Aiden glances at Trent Leiter, who nods enthusiastically.
"Absolutely," he says.
"And what's your role?" Jackson asks Trent. "International development? You're in charge of the Bahamas development, aren't you?"
"Actually, I oversee Southern California. That project was something of a one-off for me. Right now my attention is primarily on a new office and retail complex we're building in Century City." Jackson looks between me and Trent. "So the chain I follow is Sylvia, you, Aiden, and then Mr. Stark?"
"Hopefully you won't need to go over my head at all." I laugh as I say it, hoping to lighten the moment. Jackson has no way of knowing it, but Trent was less than thrilled when Damien named me project manager for The Resort at Cortez, taking him out of the hierarchy entirely.
"And we're very laid back when we need to be," Aiden adds. "You can come to me anytime. Or Damien, for that matter."
"What are you coming to me about?" Damien asks as he approaches us from behind. He holds out his hand to Jackson, who shakes it warmly, dispelling my fear that his disdain for Damien would somehow spill out onto the polished wood flooring.
"Just to tell you how much I'm going to enjoy this job." Jackson flashes a quick smile in my direction, and I feel a rush of gratitude. I'm not sure if he picked up on Trent's envy or disdain or whatever it is, but I'm grateful for the change in subject.
"I'm very happy to hear it," Damien says. "We were all disappointed when you turned down the Bahamas resort. I didn't ask you on Saturday, but I'm curious. What changed your mind?"
Jackson shifts just enough to look at me. "As I said, Ms. Brooks is very persuasive. And perhaps the stars are just better aligned this time around."
Damien looks at him as if considering. "I hope you find that working with Stark International is a mutually beneficial arrangement. I don't bring people into my organization lightly. Your talent says a lot. And Ms. Brooks's enthusiasm weighed heavily, too."
"In that case, it looks like I have Ms. Brooks to thank for a lot of things." Jackson's smile is just for me. "The Resort at Cortez is just one of many."
When Nikki joins the group to ask who needs drink refills, I offer to take care of that so she can mingle. Mostly I just want to get away before my body heats to exploding from the undercurrent of Jackson's words.
I'm in the kitchen opening a fresh bottle of scotch when Trent enters and adds some ice to his glass. "Good thing you got him in to replace Glau. That was fucked up the way he just blew off for India."
"Tibet," I say.
"Odd either way. I wonder what his real story is."
"Glau? Honestly, I'm so annoyed with the man I don't even care."
"I'm curious," Trent admits. "But I wasn't talking about Glau. I mean Steele."
"His real story?" I've lost the thread of the conversation.
"It's just so strange. I mean, he was adamant that he wouldn't work for Stark in the Bahamas. And now suddenly he's all eager?"
"Trust me, he wasn't easy to convince."
"Which is also strange," Trent says, "since he's had his eye on the Cortez project from the beginning."
I put down the bottle of scotch. "What are you talking about?"
"I was pulling some permits last week for Century City and talking with one of my friends in the county clerk's office. She mentioned that he'd pulled some surveys for the island."
"Why on earth were you talking to her about Cortez?"
He shrugs. "She assumed it was my project."
"Last week we hadn't even offered him the job."
"That's my point," Trent says. "I think your Mr. Steele was playing hard to get. What I'm wondering is why."
Since I don't know the answer, I say nothing, and when Trent takes his drink and leaves, I take a moment to just breathe deep. What he was saying made no sense. So what the hell kind of game had Jackson been playing?
When I return to the main area, Aiden has moved on, and Damien and Jackson are talking alone, still looking perfectly civil. I realize then that I still expect to see tension between them, but it's just not there. Instead, I see two men with more in common than either of them probably realize. If Damien is arrogant, then Jackson is, too, because both possess a single-minded purpose.
There are physical similarities, too. Dark hair. Classic bone structure. Hollywood-handsome good looks.
They are both the kind of men who can bring a woman to her knees, and there is no doubt that as far as I'm concerned, Jackson has done exactly that.
"It's like looking at the cover of a damn men's magazine, isn't it?" Evelyn says, as she takes one of the glasses of scotch from my hand and downs it in a single gulp. "I spoke with your architect earlier. I think he'll do good. And I'm glad the two of you got over whatever hurdle needed to be leaped."
"Me, too." My cheeks heat as I think just how enthusiastically we topped that particular hurdle.
Evelyn laughs, and my blush burns hotter.
"Don't worry," she says. "Your secret's safe with me. But you be careful, too."
"Careful?"
"Jackson Steele is not a man with a one-woman reputation, and you've never struck me as the kind of woman to put up with a player."
"No, he's not--" But I stop. The truth is, she's right about his reputation. And though I asked him about it, I have no way of knowing what really went on with those women.
"Just be careful," Evelyn repeats. And this time, all I do is nod.
I head to the kitchen to get a replacement for the scotch Evelyn took, and when I return, Nathan Dean has joined the men.
"Sylvia!" he says, giving me an air kiss on both cheeks. "So wonderful to see you again. Now that Damien doesn't need me anymore, I miss going over the punch lists with you."
"Always a good time," I say, and make all three of the men laugh. "What are you working on now?"
"A residence in Brentwood, actually. For Trent Leiter."
"I didn't realize," I say. "That's great."
"Aiden gave him my name," Nathan says. "Which is how I met Damien, actually. I've known Aiden for years, and it's a friendship that's paid off handsomely."
"You've certainly done an amazing job here," Jackson says. "This home is stunning."
"Thanks," Nathan says. "Of course, Damien is a man with a lot of opinions. Several of the design features originated with him."
"He's saying that I'm a nightmare to work with," Damien says.
"I'm not. I appreciate the feedback. This is one of my
most seamless projects."
"This floor is truly unique," Jackson says. "A man in your position must do a lot of entertaining."
"Actually, that was never my plan. Until recently, I rarely entertained in my own home, and I can't say I was that keen on going out, either."
"Must be nice when family is over, though."
I frown, not sure if he's asking questions with a purpose or just making small talk.
"To be honest, neither of us have large families. I don't get along particularly well with my father--if you read the gossip magazines that's hardly breaking news. And Nikki's family--well, her mother lives in Texas. You could say that as far as family goes, we're starting fresh."
An awkward silence hangs for a moment before Jackson speaks. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to touch on a sore spot."
"Don't worry," Damien says. "My father is a lot of things, but not someone I spend any time worrying about."
In what I assume is an attempt to change the subject, Jackson turns back to Nathan. "I'm guessing you work exclusively on residential projects?"
"Primarily, but not exclusively." Nathan's voice is a bit higher than usual, as if he too is trying to push away any bad vibes. "I've been doing a bit of networking, trying to expand my presence in the commercial market, but I certainly haven't made the kind of inroads there that you have. You have quite a portfolio, Mr. Steele."
"Call me Jackson, please. And while I understand the desire to branch out, I have to say that you excel in what you do. I meant what I said about this house. It's a gem."
"Coming from you, that's high praise. Do you mind if I ask your opinion on a few things?"
"Not at all."
"Looks like they're going to talk shop," Damien says to me. "Do you mind if I borrow you for the same purpose for a minute?"
"Of course not."
As Jackson and Nathan head to the balcony to discuss foundations or arches or some other architectural details, I follow Damien into the kitchen where he gives me a quick update on his itinerary for the week. "There's a play on Broadway that Nikki's been wanting to see, and I need to meet with Isabel about next month's product rollout. I thought I'd kill two birds and go to Manhattan Tuesday night."
"Sounds like a plan. You'll leave for Brussels from New York?" Nikki is attending some sort of digital conference, and Damien is going as well. They'd been planning to fly from Los Angeles on Friday. "Do you still want Grayson on the flight? Or do you want to go commercial?"