Page 5 of Maybe This Time (About Time 0.5)
But as soon as one of the women rises, he wraps her in a hug, runs a hand down her arm, squeezes her wrist, and says, “Candi Kane, look who I found in the hallway. My next bodyguard.”
Candi tsks him. “We have an interview, Stone.”
“Yes, let’s talk to him first,” the other woman says. She must be Veronica.
He taps his chest. Then he points at me again. “I’ve got a feeling. Trust your gut.”
And I have a feeling too. And that’s why I was wrong about that eye gaze. And I was wrong about the clap on the back.
Thank God. Thank the Lord.
It’s all just a part of who he is. He’s friendly. He’s outgoing. He’s magnetic.
And I’m damn grateful for that because the last thing I want is to feel like my skin is sizzling and my bones are on fire for a man I’m hoping is about to hire me.
I don’t need that man to flirt with me. That’d be the worst kind of trouble.
And trouble is the last thing I need in my life.
I’ve had enough of it, and I don’t need any more.3StoneFor the record, I don’t dabble with employees, or potential employees.
So, yeah, Jackson Pearce is in contention for an award along the lines of, oh, say, hottest guy ever.
But I’m not interested in hiring him just because he’s the spitting image of Thor.
I mean, come on.
If I wanted to hang out with the spitting image of Thor, I’d call up Chris and we’d hang out. The dude likes my music. And you know what? I like his films, so it works out really well that we’re buds who see each other from time to time when he’s in the US.
So the fact that Jackson Pearce is meme-worthy, that he could inspire a thousand new fainting, swooning, and fanning-myself GIFs, is irrelevant to the job opening.
After intros with Candi and Veronica, I sit down on the couch across from him in a chair and toss out the first question. “Where would you most want to go on a vacation?”
Dude doesn’t even blink. “Tokyo seems pretty cool. I’ve always been enamored with the temples and the teahouses. Would love to check that out.”
“That’s a great place. You definitely need to go there. Wait, what am I saying? We’re actually going to be there in a couple of weeks because I have a tour stop there.”
“Excellent.” He raises a brow playfully. “I’m already looking forward to it.”
I give him an appreciative nod. “Confidence. I like that in a bodyguard. In anyone,” I add.
Veronica clears her throat, peering over her electric-blue glasses. “Yes, we like confidence too, but again, maybe we should actually interview Jackson before we offer him the job.”
I roll my eyes like that’s a ridiculous thought, though of course she’s right. “Fine, if you insist.”
“I do,” she says.
I dig into my roster of getting-to-know-you questions and fire off another one at the job candidate. “If you could live anyplace for a year, where would it be?”
Candi busts out laughing, clasping her stomach. “Stone, you are such a character.”
I snap my gaze to my publicist. “And why is that?”
Candi gestures at Jackson. “You do realize we’re interviewing Jackson for the open position of your evening bodyguard? Not for The Newlywed Game?”
“Yes, I am well aware,” I say, straightening my spine, acting all faux haughty. “And that’s exactly why my questions are important.”
“You need to know where your potential bodyguard wants to vacation?” Candi retorts.
“No,” I say, rolling my eyes at her in an over-the-top manner. “I’m asking these questions because the evening bodyguard is literally the most important one on the rotation. He’ll be my regular companion. We’ll be hanging out together. He’ll be walking with me when I have shows, walking with me after shows, heading to press appearances. He’s not interviewing for the job of the overnight guard when I am sound asleep.”
Candi laughs, then looks at Jackson. “Stone loves his sleep.”
“Sleep is a very good thing,” he says to Candi, intensely serious. “They say you should get eight hours.”
He turns his hazel eyes in my direction, and I get a nice, long look at them—they are the definition of soulful. Mmm, I could get lost in them. I could write a song about those eyes. His gaze holds mine, that look of intensity in them as he adds, “I hope you’re getting your eight hours a night, Stone.”
It comes out deadpan, and I love it. Just like I loved his door banter in the hallway. I love that he’s already unafraid to just talk to me like this. That he’s not being all deferential and shit.
That he’s giving me a hard time in his own way.
That’s what I want from someone I have to spend so much time with. I want someone I can shoot the breeze with, someone I like chatting with.
