When Bonnie had overdosed, they'd turned on him again, like a pack of wild dogs, vicious and unfeeling. But, they'd done such a good job the first time around, he couldn't give them any more rage or any more anguish.
"Plus, you're gorgeous."Taylorwondered what she was doing. Her words were true. What was also true was that she could never deliver on the promise implied in the flirtatious tone. And even if she could have, she was nowhere nearJackson's league. The man was linked with superstar actresses whose beauty shone from the silver screen and glittered on red carpets.
Just last week, she'd read an article where a titian-haired actress had stated that the reclusive head of Santorini Studios was her dream man. Though the megastar couldn't understand why such an important man chose to live in so small a country, it made him all the more interesting to her. All the more desirable.
"I don't think anyone would describe me as gorgeous."Jackson's response was dry. "But thank you."
She scowled. "You're not pretty, not like the actors. There's nothing soft about you. Your face is strong, interesting ... gorgeous." She wasn't going to back down. Just like the world-famous actress, dark-eyed, dark-haired JacksonSantorini was her dream man.
Some people might say that he was a little too muscular, but onJackson, the bulk looked good. Very, very good. She wanted to reach over and squeeze one of those taut arm muscles to see if there was any give at all. Then she wanted to bite down on that firm, golden flesh.
And therein lay her problem.
Jacksonhad been the best employer she'd ever had. The most demanding but also the most appreciative.
A permanent job with him would've been perfect ... if she hadn't stupidly gone and fallen in lust with her married boss.
Until she'd met him, she'd thought of lust as something frightening and dirty. Given her childhood, she knew that was understandable. But, the moment she'd seen JacksonSantorini in the flesh, it had hit her like a thunderbolt. She'd been flabbergasted, having no idea what to do about the heat that pooled in her stomach like high-octane fuel whenever he so much as glanced at her.
Even more disturbing were the other emotions that had crept in while she wasn't guarding her back.
Dangerous emotions like trust. And hope.
Not that she'd ever followed up on the attraction. Touching another woman's husband was an unbreakable taboo. Even if her morals hadn't stopped her, practicality would have - she'd seen firsthand what happened to discarded mistresses. But she hadn't been able to stop fantasizing about her sexy Italian boss, even as she adamantly refused to open the door to any other feeling.
When the media storm had broken overBonnie's lover, she'd wanted to slap the other woman for throwing away a man ofJackson's worth. Though she'd had no right, she'd ached to go to him, and try and soothe his unbearable pain. How dare that woman hurtJacksonwhere he was most vulnerable - in that proud heart of his?
It had been over a year since their last meeting but her feelings hadn't changed. Even her upsetting experience at Donald's hands couldn't alter that, because she trustedJacksonon a gut level. She'd never felt safe with a man until he'd started bullying her with his protectiveness, walking her to her car and more than once following her home late at night to ensure that she arrived safely. And he'd never made any demands in return.
The truth was, her sexy ex-boss still made her burn.
Jacksonwas stunned byTaylor's little speech. Nobody had ever called him gorgeous, not even starlets who thought he might be influenced by flattery. That was a lie too big even for them. And yet he knew that the woman in the passenger seat did not tell lies. Who else butTaylorwould've dared to inform him that he looked like he was strung out on cocaine when he'd dragged himself into the office one Monday after fighting with Bonnie all weekend?
The question was,what was he going to do with the knowledge that she considered him gorgeous? At that moment, his attention was caught by flashing red lights up ahead. "Looks like there might have been an accident."
"I hope no one was hurt."Taylorleaned forward, blanket clutched tight. When he glanced at her, he saw that heat had given her face a soft pink glow that was at once enchanting and innocently seductive.
"Let's see." Reaching the poncho-clad cop standing in the middle of the street, he wound down the window. Sharp drops of rain immediately assaulted his face. "What's the problem, officer?"
The young man leaned down. His eyes flicked toTaylorand then back toJackson. "There's been a three-car crash up ahead. Pretty messy. We're detouring people up through there." He pointed to an upward-sloping street on his right, the route marked with orange safety cones.
Jacksonnodded. "Was anyone badly injured?"
"No fatalities." His relief was clear. "Drive safely." Moving back, he let them pass.
After turning up the small incline,Jacksonsaid, "Look, you need to dry out and with this detour and the weather, we won't reach your place for at least another hour." Water sloshed around the tires as he came to a level section of the road. "You can spend the night at my place - the drive will only take twenty minutes."
"I can't do that!" she cried.
"Why?" It angered him that she didn't trust him, when he'd never given her reason not to. Okay, so maybe he'd yelled at her once or twice while she'd been his secretary, but she'd yelled right back and they'd got along fine.
Once again, she surprised him. "Because paparazzi stalk you. They're probably hiding in the bushes by the door. I don't want to be famous." She sounded determined.
He shook his head at her amazing mind. "If there is a paparazzo there tonight, piccola , I swear I'll beat him up for you." The endearment slipped out without thought. "Of course, he's probably already drowned."
A laugh escaped her. "Well, if you promise."
Traffic being much lighter on this side of the city, they reached his eight-month-oldMissionBayhome in less time than he'd anticipated. Pressing an electronic key, he drove the car through the security gates.
About fifty meters up the drive he pushed another button to raise the garage door before driving in. It shut behind them, enclosing them in a dry haven lit with a strong white bulb. The sound of rain on hard surfaces was muted to a soft lullaby, lending an unexpected intimacy to the air.
"Don't you think garages should have bleary yellow lights?"Taylorstretched out to pop her door open.
He let her lighten the mood, giving her space. For now. "You think something's wrong with my ambience?" Stepping out, he found her standing beside her door like some sort of disheveled fairy wrapped in tartan.
She wrinkled her nose at him. "When I'm no longer in danger of turning into an icicle, I'll tell you."
Biting back his first real smile for a year, he led her out of the garage, through the converted basement which he used as a gym, and up to the first floor of his home. "Bathroom's upstairs on the right." He pointed to the stairs leading up from the living room. "There should be fresh towels on the rails. I think the cleaning service came today. I'll find you a robe and throw it through."
"Don't peek." She started to struggle up the stairs, trying not to trip on the blanket she refused to release, an empress giving an order to a lowly servant.
Shaking his head at her impudence, he dropped his keys on a table in the living area and walked into his study.
Ignoring the blinking message light on his phone, he placed a call to the Auckland Police Station. As usual, Detective Cole McKenna was pulling the graveyard shift. AfterJacksonexplained the matter to one of the few men he trusted implicitly, Cole swore creatively under his breath.
"Your lady doesn't want to press charges?"
Jacksonthought aboutTaylor's attempts to brush off the entire incident. "I'd like to take care of it without pulling her into something messy."
"Yeah, that's what I figured. I need a diversion from paperwork anyway. Let's see - Donald Carson, Project Director atDracena Medical." He tapped some keys. "Got him. I think3:00 a.m.sounds like a good time for a visit."
Jacksonitched to face Carson himself but he'd made a promise and if he saw the man, he'd surely break it. "Thanks."
"I'll swing by your place and drop off yourTaylor's purse when I'm heading off shift, just after six."
Yes,Jacksonthought, she was his . "I don't want Taylor to start thinking I'm about to get arrested so leave the black and white at the station," he joked, trying not to let his frustration at being unable to act himself seep into his tone.
Cole chuckled, seeing through him. "Lady must be something special if you're trying to behave."
They hung up on that note. His tension easing now that he'd done something about the man who'd dared to hurtTaylor, he quickly played back his messages. All four were from very smart people, including his mother, wanting something.
The demanding note in his mother's voice wasn't unusual. A rising star when she'd inconveniently fallen pregnant with Jackson to AnthonySantorini , her husband at the time, Liz Carlyle had had neither the time nor the inclination to raise her son. She'd saved that for his half brotherCarlton, born almost ten years later.
As for Anthony, the celebrated director's paternal instincts had finally kicked in nine years afterJackson's birth, when he'd sired Mario closely followed by Valetta, with wife number three.
However, now thatJacksonwas a success, both Liz and Anthony preferred to forget that the closest they'd ever come to parenting him was writing checks for boarding schools and nannies. Neither had any compunction against using family ties to solicit his help. Frowning, he noted the details of the messages before erasing them. He'd take care of their requests later.
After he took care ofTaylor.
Heading upstairs, he passed the closed door of his admittedly huge bathroom and entered his bedroom, knowing he had an unused robe someplace. Except when he reached the closet, he picked out his favorite.