Page 6 of Body Check

He makes another pass of his tongue along his bottom lip. Then reaches into his briefcase to pull out yet another folder. Setting it on the desk, he flicks it open and spins it around so that the words are legible from where I stand.

“You know,” he drawls with a subtle edge, “your ex-husband warned us that you wouldn’t agree to our first offer. Seems he still knows you pretty well.”

Every thought scatters on my next exhale.

I shake my head, mouth parting and then snapping closed as the words sink in.Jacksonspoke to him? It sounds so utterly ludicrous that laughter bubbles to life in my chest, demanding to be released in all of its sarcastic, bitter glory.

Not now. Be professional!

“I’m sorry”—my gaze falls to the contract pinned to the desk under my palm—“but did you say thatJacksontold you that I’d ask for more money? When in the world . . . why would he—”

“We were required to meet with every player to re-verify that they would allow us to film them. The owner’s request when we first did our rounds. Same with the coaches.” Sports 24/7’s producer only shrugs. “Only this time, Carter wouldn’t sign unless you were the one who . . . Well, you can see where I’m going with this.”

You can see where I’m going with this.

Oh yeah. I canabsolutelysee where Steven Fairfax is going with this, and my professional veneer cracks a little more. So, it wasn’t at all that Sports 24/7 had gone through other companies before arriving at mine. Or maybe they had. Hell, maybe they’d even gone so far as to sign on one of the countless firms across the country—until Jackson threw a goddamn wrench in their plans and had them spinning a complete one-eighty in the opposite direction.

A direction that points unfailingly at me.

My fingers clench at my sides, nails carving half-moons into my palms.

I’m going to kill him—and I’m going to make it hurt, too.

His precious hockey stick right to the twin pucks between his legs.

It’d serve him right for interferingwith my life after we made thejointdecision to go our separate ways.

I stride to my office door and yank it open so hard that Shelby, my poor assistant, flings herself at the wall. The folder she was holding drops to the floor and her hands lift in the air as if to shield her face.

After three years of working together, her reaction doesn’t come as a shock. She’s an aspiring actress with a love for drama, even if she’s never had a single callback. Every few months she tells me that her big break is coming and that she’s preparing her resignation letter—and every time, she waltzes back into the office the very next morning like nothing happened.

Even so, I’m totally going to have to pick up her favorite peanut butter brownies from Mike’s Pastry on the way in tomorrow or she’ll be giving me the stink eye for the rest of the week.

When Steven calls out my name, I glance over my shoulder at him.

He gestures to the papers spread about my desk. “Do we have a deal? You take the six-figures and you sign on withGetting Puckedfor four short months. This will bemassiveexposure for your business. Massive.”

Thirty minutes ago, I’d been hesitant to sign onto a project that would have me working in close spaces with Jackson for months. Hesitant, but still intrigued, despite my reservations. A job like this could be the difference between keeping the business relegated to New England or expanding across the country.

But knowing what I do now—thatJackson won’t even commit to the show unless Carter Photography is involved—my answer is a lot firmer than amaybe.

My fingers circle the doorknob. “No deal, Mr. Fairfax. You can tell Jackson Carter that I don’t need his pity. Better yet, I’ll tell him myself.”

The Cold War is about to come to a boiling, explosive end.

Damn you, Jackson. Damn. You.

3

Jackson

I’m eating baked chicken at my kitchen island when I hear it.

Or, should I say, when I hearher.

“Jackson!”

Puncturing the chicken with my fork, I lean back on my stool and eye the front door like there’s a mythical Yeti on the other side instead of a slip of a woman whose head doesn’t even reach my chin.

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