Shayna and I turn on Jackson, both of us glaring. “No.”
Jack holds his hands up. “Fine. Okay, let me look around some more.”
He pushes out of the booth and strolls around the dining room, perusing the choices of unattached men. Finally, he stops and points, not so discreetly, at a tall black guy. He reminds me of that guy on that FBI show, the one with the light eyes that calls the techy chick Baby Girl.
Shay turns to me, brows raised in question. I shrug.
Jackson returns to the table. “So? Does he fit the bill?”
Shay lifts one shoulder.
“He’ll cheat,” she says, matter-of-factly.
My jaw drops. “You don’t know that. He could be the very loyal sort.”
“He could be, but he’s not. He has the look. Then again, I wouldn’t kick him outta bed, so whatever.”
Baxter crosses his muscular arms, scowling. “But you won’t—sleep with him, I mean. No more than a few kisses, right?”
Shay rolls her eyes and then stares right at him. “Fuck and release. I told you, fuck and release; that’s the policy.”
Baxter’s mouth hardens, and the muscle at his temple works overtime.
Jackson slides into the booth next to me. “You okay with that guy? If so, I’ll get a picture of him on the sly. It shouldn’t take my crew long to figure out who he is.”
A huge sigh seeps out. “Sure, why not? One poor sap is as good as the next, I suppose.”
The idea of purposefully fooling someone doesn’t sit right with me. But I’ll be damned if I can figure out a way around it. I can’t afford for this to crash my career. This is my chosen profession. There is no plan B.
Cindy, the petite woman from Jackson’s staff, puts the little camera pin on my lapel. “Okay, just remember that if you need privacy, you’ll have to turn it off. Bathroom, intimate moments, whatever.”
I nod. “You guys can see it all. Got it.”
When Cindy vacates the room and closes the door behind her, I collapse in the chair at the dressing table.
This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Well, maybe not as stupid as letting the architect of my demise finger-fuck me in a public restaurant—then again, no. No, this is definitely the dumbest ever.
The door opens. My knotted stomach sinks.
Jackson.
In the mirror, he smiles, those dimples peeking out of his perfectly kept stubble. My pulse beats in my panties, but I’m going to ignore that—for my own sanity.
“Hey, beautiful. You ready to win this bet?” He steps behind me and rests his hands on my shoulders.
I wrinkle my nose. “Don’t pretend that you think I’ll win. You said yourself that you won’t buy what I’m selling.”
Reaching around me, he covers the camera with one finger, and then he leans close and whispers in my ear. “All I can think about is how your pussy tastes. What do you say, after your date with what’s-his-face, I’ll come over? You can tell me how he’s falling for you, and I promise you’ll be glad I came.”
I bite my bottom lip. My body is a traitor—probably because my mind is far too imaginative about how he’ll make me happy he came. But, I can’t do that to myself. Or to… wait, what is his name? Donny or David or Dudley? Whatever—it doesn’t matter.
Pushing out of the chair, I brush his hand away. “Sorry, Jack. Just because you have no moral compass, it doesn’t mean I don’t.”
He steps back, and his eyebrows knit. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I lean toward the mirror and wipe an errant eyelash from the corner of my eye. “This guy has no idea what you’re plotting. He’s a normal guy who’s taking a chance on a blind date.”
“So? What’s that got to do with your plans for after the date?”
“I’m not going to leave a date with one man only to hop in the sack with another that same evening.”
He crosses his arms and grins. “So, tomorrow then?”
“Seriously?”
He shrugs. “Yeah. I want to see you. This bet shouldn’t stop you and me from spending some quality time together.”
Quality time? No.
“I’m not made that way, Jackson. I’ll give this guy the same respect I’d give any man I might be interested in. Isn’t that what this is supposed to be about—testing my methods?”
“He won’t have any idea. Besides, this is just a game.”
I poke his chest, pushing him aside. “No. It’s a game to you. To me, it’s my career. To him it’s a date with the potential of becoming more. Besides, he’d know the next time we meet.”
With a disbelieving shake of his head, Jackson says, “And how’s he going to know? Unless you tell him.”