Page 10 of Reunion With Benefits

Three

Abby sat in a conference room on the fifteenth floor of the swanky office building where Jameson Industries was located. A glass wall with the glass door fronted the room, facing into the hall. The room was reserved for relatively few people in the company because it connected to Jackson Richards’s office next door. He used it. Derrick used it. Today, she used it.

She looked at the stack of papers in front of her, then to her laptop, then across the small round table to Jackson. He was Derrick’s right-hand man and the most accessible person on the management staff. He was also tall and lean with a runner’s body and, if rumors were correct, the one every single woman in the office named as the most eligible and interesting man in the office. There hadn’t been an actual poll, to her knowledge, but she got asked at least a few times a week if he was dating anyone. Not that Abby saw him in a romantic way. She didn’t.

She considered Jackson one of her closest friends, if not the closest. After a relatively solitary existence growing up—just her and her mom and the apartment manager who watched her when her mom worked the night shift at the diner—dating here and there, keeping attachments light in case she needed to get up and go, Jackson acted as a lifeline for her. They even lived in condos next door to each other, which was more of an accident than anything else. But when you heard about a good deal on a downtown DC property with a doorman and reasonable monthly fees, you jumped on it. Jackson sure had.

But right now she was at work and out of patience. She beat back the urge to knock her head against the table. “If I have to read one more email from Rylan, my brain will explode.”

The man sent her the most mundane emails. The status check today, which he sent a day earlier than he said he would, was to tell her nothing had changed. Yeah, she guessed that much. But with emails clogging her inbox and her mind on constant wandering mode these days, she needed something solid. Jackson was it.

“Good thing we have good health insurance here,” Jackson said as he closed the file he was reading.

She snorted. “I’m pretty sure head explosion isn’t covered.”

“He is persistent.” Jackson glanced at the conference room door as it opened. “Speaking of which...”

“Hello.” Spence stepped inside. He didn’t make a move to sit down. He stopped and rested his palms on the back of the chair nearest to him.

That fast, the oxygen sucked out of the room. The easy banter with Jackson gave way to suffocating tension. It pressed in on Abby, proving what she already knew. Seeing Spence grew harder each time, not easier.

Jackson smiled as he moved some of the files and papers around to make room in front of an open chair. “Hey, Spence.”

As far as Abby was concerned, all of that accommodating was unnecessary. She had no interest in sitting there, explaining her projects to Spence. She had a file made up with the relevant information and emailed him the rest. She’d done her part to keep the machine running.

“Right.” She shut her laptop, careful not to slam the cover down, and stood up. “I’m going to head back to my office.”

“I need to talk to you for a second.” Spence’s gaze moved from her to Jackson.

Jackson sighed. “Why are you looking at me? I’m supposed to be in here. I’m not leaving.”

“Help me out,” Spence said.

Jackson shook his head as he stood up. “Did you not hear my dramatic sigh?”

“It was tough to miss.”

“That’s because I spend half my life rescuing Jamesons from certain disaster.” Jackson ended the back-and-forth with a smack against Spence’s shoulder.

Some of the tension drained away as Jackson and Spence fell into their easy camaraderie. That sort of thing always amazed Abby. Men could argue and go at each other, but if they were friends or related, they seemed to have this secret signal, heard only by them, that triggered the end of the battle. Then all the anger slipped away.

She wished she possessed that skill.

She glanced at Jackson. “You deserve a raise.”

“Hell, yeah.” Jackson winked at her as he walked out of the conference room through the connecting door to his office.

A second later, Spence slid into the seat Jackson abandoned. He flipped through a whole repertoire of nervous gestures, none of which she’d seen from him before. He rubbed the back of his neck. Shifted around in his seat. Put a hand on the table then took it off. But he didn’t say a word.

After about a minute, the silence screamed in her head. “You’re up, Spence. You’re the one who wanted to talk.”

Fightwas probably more accurate. They couldn’t seem to be civil to each other for more than a few minutes at a time since living in the same town again. They verbally sparred. Every conversation led them back to the same place—he believed she came on to his father. The idea made her want to heave.

He let out a heavy sigh that had his chest lifting and falling. “We got off on the wrong foot.”

“When?”

He frowned. “What?”

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