How will I sit through this hell of a luncheon knowing Emily is in the same room? Sure, the room is probably the size of a hockey rink but she’s here, and I have to speak to her. I don’t know yet what I’ll say, but one thing is for sure—I haven’t been able to get her out of my mind.
And I need to know who the hell that guy is that she’s with.
Emily
Are you kidding me?
What is he doing here? I knew it was a possibility but I also know enough about Jackson Croft to know that charity luncheons are not his thing.
As soon as I spotted him my heart dropped to the floor, and I immediately tried to move across the room, getting as far away from him as possible.
Is he here to torment me? I’m finally moving on from the humiliation of getting dumped by a guy after one date—and it wasn’t even a real date! And he has to show up here, and when I’m with Brent.
Although I’m still not sure I’m here with Brent, but we arrived together and are sitting together so as far as Jackson Croft knows, I’m with Brent.
God, I went on one maybe-but-not-really date with Jackson and now I’m on the same with Brent. I’m a twenty-three-year-old grad student at one of the country’s top universities and I can’t figure out when I’m on a date with a guy and when we’re just eating food at the same table.
Pathetic.
More pathetic still is the fact that I’d much rather be on a maybe kind of date with Jackson, then a definite date with Brent—and I hate that I feel this way.
Brent and I are seated in the back of the room, which is just fine with me. The further away from Jackson Croft I am, the better. Only the big donors and top people in CEF will be sitting with him, up front near the stage for an afternoon of speeches, photos and back-clapping awards. I take a little solace in knowing Jackson will be absolutely miserable during the entire lunch. Wait until he sees the video of the children. He’ll really be miserable.
Brent and I find our table in the back. It’s near a pillar that partially obscures the stage and near the swinging kitchen door where wait staff is knocking through in rapid pace. Do I care? Not a bit. I’m getting a free meal and distance from the city’s biggest egomaniac.
Brent has pulled my chair out and is waiting for me to sit. I want to see what table Jackson is at so I know what area to avoid, but Brent is just standing there, waiting. It’s a little annoying but I smile and sit down, thanking him as I do.
“This is nice,” Brent says. “It’s almost like having a private table.”
It’s sweet that he’s making what’s more like an exile into something positive. I can see Jackson moving around, shaking hands with Jules by his side. He’s looking around the room and he better not be looking for me.
Why he would be, I have no idea but I don’t want to talk to the guy. Not today, not ever…Even though there seems to be a spot in the center of my chest that throbs every time I so much as look at him out of the corner of my eye.
“Maybe one day after class we could go get lunch for real,” Brent says. “Off the clock, you know?”
“Uh huh,” I say, watching the room. We begin eating our salads, which were already placed at the tables before we came into the room. It’s thin and soggy but I keep moving my fork from my plate to my mouth with no thought.
“Hello, Emily,” a voice says above me. That voice. The only voice I don’t want to hear.
The voice I can’t forget.
I look up and see him, Jackson, standing behind my chair looking obnoxiously dapper in his suit and tie, his hair perfectly combed back. The better to show off that face of his, gorgeous strong jaw and mesmerizing eyes. Damn him. He’s so annoying.
“Hello, Mr. Croft,” I say in what I hope to be a sufficiently icy tone of voice. I hardly look at him, no more than the initial glance.
He lets out a chuckle. “Surely by now you can call me Jackson,” he says. What does that mean, “by now”? Does he think because he gave me the best orgasm of my life that means I have to act familiar with him?
“It’s been a while. I wanted to talk with you.”
“Thank you for coming to the event,” I say, because there are a couple other people at the table, and they’re beginning to watch us curiously—including Brent. “We’re so happy to have your support.”
“I’m happy to give it,” Jackson says, his voice as cool as ever. It’s maddening. How can he be so steely? Is there nothing inside his soul? And again—why is he here? Why is he talking to me? “Looks like a pretty full house. That must make you happy. A big success for the children and all…”