Free Beloved by Corinne Michaels Page A

to go. I shift my purse on my shoulder and begin walking. When he places his hand on the small of my back, I shiver inadvertently. I feel his warmth through my shirt, burning my skin. I’m mentally berating myself for acting like this.
    “Are you cold?” he asks with humor in his voice, somehow aware his touch is wreaking havoc on me.
    I turn and look directly in his eyes, hoping to convey my own message of strength and defiance. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.” I was strong and confident this morning, but now I feel like I’m on the edge of a cliff. I smile and straighten my back, trying to walk past him as he stands in the doorway. He’s left me very little room to get through, though, so I shift to the side, scooting by without touching him. Of course, it’s impossible and my arm slides against his, causing goose bumps to form in the wake of our skin-to-skin contact.
    His office is nothing like I would have imagined. It has a feminine feel to it. He has a glass desk table with a high-back chair. The walls are cream and the couch is a light lilac color. There are no photos, no personal touches throughout the room. I fight the urge to laugh—this is definitely not a man’s office.
    Jackson clears his throat again and I wonder if it’s a nervous habit of his. Could he be as nervous as I am? “I just moved into this office,” he begins, pausing as if carefully weighing his next words. “The person before me was obviously a female. Danielle was the acting CEO for the last ten months. I haven’t had time to change anything.” He closes his eyes, looking almost pained. I have the strangest urge to comfort him, but I resist.
    “I understand. But for the record, purple’s not your color.” I sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk and start to get out my mock boards and planning sheet.
    “No? And what color would you recommend, Ms. Pope?” Jackson asks, smiling.
    “Hmmm, I’d say pink.” I look around before returning my gaze to him. “Definitely pink.”
    Jackson comes around and sits in the chair next to me instead of behind the desk. His cologne assaults my senses as I inhale, breathing in all its masculinity. It’s even better than I remember and so much stronger.
    I open my eyes to see him staring at me with a wide smile. He shifts in his seat and props his arm on the back of mine. “Pink, huh? Well only real men wear pink, and I assure you, Catherine, I’m all the real you’ll ever need.”
    I cough, trying to regain my focus as his eyes bore into me.
    “So, fall on any more men at dinner lately?”
    And there it is.
    “Actually, no. Thanks for being concerned, though.” I laugh while shaking my head.
    “Good to know. I’d be jealous if you had.”
    “Anyway, I brought the mock-up and I emailed Danielle the video.”
    “I saw the video. It’s the reason you’re here now and not the other company.” His compliment washes over me. He didn’t hire me because he knew me, no. It was because of my vision and my plan for his company.
    “I’m glad I impressed you.”
    Jackson shifts in his chair and crosses his leg, getting closer to me. “I’m hoping there are many ways you’ll endeavor to impress me.” His tone is light and joking, but his eyes suggest the truth in his words.
    He can’t touch me or I’ll crack. I try to move back in my chair, but there’s nowhere to go. I stand and start to pace. I’m nervous, wound up, and out of my element.
    “Mr. Cole—”
    “Jackson. You should call me Jackson. We’ll be together a lot,” he cuts me off. I turn to look out the window, trying to gather my thoughts.
    I’m freaking out. I can’t do my job and work with him . I can’t think straight around him—he’s too much. Too sexy. Too intense. Too all-consuming. How am I going to do this? I can’t focus around him and if Jackson touches me, I’ll crumble. On the other hand, if I walk away from this account, I’ll never get the promotion. Shit. I could lose my job. Wouldn’t