Page 140 of Failure to Match

I slid out of bed, rubbing my eyes as I dragged my feet to the bathroom. It took maybe twenty minutes for me to get dressed, dab on a light layer of makeup, and tuck my curls into a somewhat neat bun, but that was enough time for Jackson Sinclair to obliterate me.

When I walked back out, he was sitting on my bed with averysatisfied-looking Toebeans loaf purring on his lap.

“Um…”

Jackson beamed up at me. “He’ll growl if I try to cuddle him, but this is already pretty great.”

My heart burst.

It inflated, took out my lungs, and fucking burst into heart-shaped confetti and circus music.

It was me. I was the clown.

“We should go.” I was done. I couldnotwith the two of them like this.

Jackson frowned like asking him to move was the craziest, most nonsensical thing that could have possibly come out of my mouth. So I turned around and ripped open the cat food cabinet.

Toebeans immediately unloafed and hopped onto the floor, and I didn’t need to look at Jackson to know how unhappy he was with my betrayal. I kept my back to him as I watched Toebeans munch away at his breakfast, my arms crossed and my shoulders bunched.

Everything was fine, I just needed to refocus. As skeptical as I was about Imogen’s premonitions, they were starting to feel like a lifeline. Maybe Daniel wouldn’t come on as a client. Maybe we’d hit it off and… I don’t know, but anything would be better than the current path I was set on.

I was dangerously close to falling for the most unattainable man in the world, getting my heart shattered, and never recovering from it. I’d never get over this man if I allowed myself to fall in love with him. I knew that to be a fundamental, irrefutable truth. Water was wet, the Earth was round, and if I, Jamie Paquin, fell in love with Jackson Sinclair, I’d never get over him.

Daniel was officially my best-case scenario, and since my meeting with him was in less than twelve hours, all I really had to do was not fall in love with Jackson before then.

Totally doable.

I had this. Everything was fine.

Nothing was fine. Notonething.

Listen, I knew I’d messed up with the library thing. I knew it was wrong and that I deserved some sort of punishment for violating Jackson’s privacy, but this... this was genuinely unfair.

I gritted my teeth, willing my stupid,stupidheart to stop flip-flopping and allow enough oxygen to reach my brain so I could actually fuckingthinkfor one stupid second.

The problem was, of course, Jackson. Instead of sitting in his office all day, we’d hopped from boardroom to boardroom, with little breaks in between so he could take calls and respond to urgent emails.

It was fucking lewd, how disgustingly competent he was at leading these meetings. He had this calm, firm confidence about him, and actuallylistenedwhen his employees contributed, regardless of their age or job title or level of seniority. In fact, I’d sat through six of these stupid things so far today, and he hadn’t made a single decision until he was sure no one else had anything more to contribute to the topic.

It was so fucking sexy. I hated it so much.

I glanced at the clock behind Jackson’s head for what must have been the tenth time within the last five minutes, not thinking much of it. I really didn’t think he’d notice.

While I’d spent the whole day watching him, he’d spent it ignoring me. That was not a complaint—it was what we encouraged our clients to do when we shadowed them. If they forgot we were there, it increased the accuracy of our data. The point was, I’d grown so used to being invisible that when my gaze landed back on Jackson and found him glaring at me, my pulse kicked.

I didn’t look at the time again after that.

When the meeting was finally over, he didn’t so much as spare me a glance before storming out of the room, didn’t say a single word as I struggled to keep up with his long strides. Once we were tucked into the private elevator leading up to his office, I started on my apology.

“Sorry. I swear I was paying attention.” And I had four pages of detailed notes to prove it. When he continued to stare straight ahead, I reached for his sleeve. “Hey, seriously, I didn’t mean anything by?—”

I barely had a chance to process the fact that he’d smashed the red emergency button before I was lifted off my feet and pinned against cool metal, my legs pulled around his waist.

His lips crushed to mine, stealing my breath. And instead of pushing him away, instead of telling him that this needed tostop like I’d promised myself I would, I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him back. Our tongues tangled, our teeth clashed, and my whole existence erupted into sparks.

I’d been lying to myself all day. I didn’t want Daniel to be a lifeline. If I got to choose, I’d choose Jackson over and over and over again. I swear, if there was even a small chance he’d ever allow himself to love me back, I’d never look at another man again.

A pathetic, whimpering whine ripped out of me the second he broke the kiss. But I didn’t have the energy anymore to care.

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