Page 46 of One Time Only (One Time Only 1)
My chest twists.
A strange piercing sensation winds through me now that I know the name of his partner. Sounds Brazilian. Now that I’m picturing him, he could have been a hot guy from Rio de Janeiro maybe. Handsome as a movie star to have nabbed Jackson.
A few seconds ago, Jackson’s dead partner was just a guy.
Now he has a name.
And he had the key to Jackson’s heart, but he broke it with a choice.
That piercing in me turns black, hard. Borderline angry. Because I’m pissed at that guy for hurting Jackson.
For causing him all that pain.
But then, life happens.
It plays out the way it does, and here he is.
Across from me.
Is it selfish that I like where he is now? That I like him here with me? On the road with me? Having dinner with me?
He eats the slice of chicken, chews, then finishes the thought. “I’ve always gravitated toward relationships. I guess it’s just the kind of person I am.”
“You really don’t do hookups ever?” I ask, then take a bite of my pasta.
“No, I haven’t. I guess until that one time with you.”
Ah, hell.
This delights me.
It shouldn’t.
But it absolutely delights me to no end, even though I know nothing is going to happen between us. Except my stupid heart is dancing some kind of crazy jig. Because he bent for me.
I let go of the jealousy I feel for his past, and I slide my boot under the table, rubbing the toe against his shoe. “Call me crazy, but I think that’s sexy.”
He laughs. “Why on earth would you think that’s sexy?”
“You tell me, Jackson. All I can figure is I think everything about you is sexy,” I say, and lest the moment become too heavy, I lighten it. “And now that I know you’re as gay as a guy who likes sucking cock, I am allowed to think how sexy you are all the time.”
I set down my fork with a flourish, wiggle a brow, and lick my lips salaciously.
Because this is me—easy, free, playing the field.
He laughs. “And how’s that working out for you? Is it driving you crazy knowing nothing is gonna happen?”
“So damn crazy,” I mutter.
I’m crazier, too, when my brother joins us a few minutes later and it’s no longer a date.
But I have to remind myself it was never one.
Should be easy, since Jackson is great with him. “The setup you were running through earlier—it looks great,” Jackson says to Zane after he orders.
“Thanks. I’m glad we could put it all together so quickly,” my brother replies.
“I’m impressed. Can’t wait for the show to open tomorrow night.”
Zane glances at me, then back at Jackson, and asks, “So, you like Stone’s music?”
Then my brother smiles at my bodyguard, like he can’t wait for the answer.
I can’t either. I don’t know what he’ll say, but I want Jackson’s yes so damn badly. Why the hell do I want him to like my music when millions do? When my shows sell out? I don’t need one man’s approval.
“You want to know the God’s honest truth?” Jackson asks Zane.
Zane smirks. “Oh man, I’m dying for you to tell me that you can’t stand his songs.”
With a devilish grin, Jackson takes his phone from his pocket and clicks on a playlist then the date he created it. Two years ago—well before he started working for me. It has all my songs on it. “Make It Last.” “Take Me.” “Bedroom Eyes.”
I have millions of fans. I have people who like my music on all continents.
But the fact that he enjoys my tunes thrills me.
And so does this thing he does under the table. He slides his foot onto mine, taps my toe, and shoots me a private smile.Later that night, Jackson walks me to my suite alone and stops right outside my door, like he does every night.
But tonight, his eyes linger on me longer. They turn serious for several seconds.
He looks like he desperately wants to say something.
I desperately want to invite him in.
I want to beg him to spend the night with me.
Hell, I want to ask him to throw me against the wall and smother me in drowning, devouring kisses.
The kind only he can give.
But the memory of Zane’s face at dinner, happy and carefree, unbothered by my dad, flickers before me.
Is that the reason I don’t invite Jackson in?
Or is it something else?
Is it that I don’t know how to deal with this burgeoning well of feelings in my chest for him?
Feelings that are surprising the hell out of me.
Maybe it’s because I want more than one night with him.
I reach for my key, slide it over the card reader, and say good night to the man I don’t want to say good night to.19JacksonThe theater is packed every night.
The show is epic every time.
