Dirty Sexy Sinner (Dirty Sexy 4)

Since it was lunchtime, the place was quieter than usual. He showed her his office, the conference room that they’d dubbed “the war room,” and pointed out the photos on the hallway walls that showcased some of the projects he’d worked on. She seemed genuinely interested and impressed with the architectural aspect of his job and asked more questions than he’d anticipated. But the one thing he did realize was that he liked sharing this integral part of himself with her, and he loved that her enthusiasm was so authentic and real.

They reached the executive area of Schmidt and Kramer, where the president and vice-president of the company had a small suite of offices. Their admin secretary, Brynn Howell, took her lunch at eleven, so she was sitting behind her desk now, working away on her computer. The two main doors to the executive offices behind Brynn were open, and Jackson gave an amicable nod of acknowledgement to the men sitting inside each of those rooms, Walter Schmidt and Phillip Kramer. The two gentlemen did the same and smiled when they saw that Tara was with him, and she smiled and sent them a quick, friendly wave in silent greeting.

“Hi, Brynn,” Jackson said as he grabbed Tara’s hand as they approached the other woman’s desk. “Since you missed the big anniversary party last weekend because you had the flu, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend.”

When Brynn glanced up from her computer screen, he felt a slight resistance in Tara along with a sudden stiffening of her body and chalked it up to her normal unease in being introduced to yet another one of his colleagues. He would have thought after being surrounded by so many people in the industry at the gala, Tara would have been more comfortable meeting the people he worked with.

“Brynn, this is Tara Kent,” he said, waving a hand between the two women. “Tara, this is Brynn Howell.”

Jackson watched in confusion as Brynn stared at Tara in unm

istakable shock. Neither one of the women spoke for what felt like the longest time, the tension between them nearly palpable, until Tara finally broke the strained silence between them.

“Brynn,” Tara acknowledged tentatively, her wide blue eyes filled with uncertainty. “How are you?”

Brynn stood up but didn’t answer, the animosity transforming her features surprising in its intensity before she glanced back at Jackson. “You’re dating her?”

Beside Jackson, Tara flinched at the hostility behind the words. He frowned as he looked between the two women, trying to make sense of what was unfolding in front of him.

“Do the two of you know one another?” he asked, suddenly feeling as though he was chartering a very rocky, emotional terrain.

“If you count the fact that she’s the drug addict who killed my brother, then yes, I know her,” she said, bitterness dripping from her voice. “I can’t believe someone like you is dating her. She’s nothing but trash.”

Jackson was so stunned by Brynn’s heated outburst that he was rendered momentarily speechless. It was a side to her he’d never seen before.

“Brynn . . .” Tara’s hand fluttered up to her throat. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” A caustic laugh escaped the other woman. “You’re the one who should have died that day, not Michael. And now you’re trying to be someone you’re not and insinuating yourself into a decent man’s life.” She turned to Jackson. “Mark my words. She’ll drag you into the gutter with her and ruin your life,” she said before spinning around and walking out on Tara without another word.

Oh, shit. It was as if he’d been hit by a train as it finally dawned on Jackson who Brynn was to Tara, but before he could respond or check on her, Walter came out of his office and moved toward them. “Is something wrong out here?” he asked brusquely, one part concerned, another clearly upset by the disturbance.

Tara shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she choked out and darted down the hall before Jackson could stop her.

Jackson took a step, intending to go after her, but Walter called his name. Jackson barely heard the man’s questions, and he quickly wrapped up the conversation, assuring him everything was fine. With his head spinning with what the fuck just happened, he rushed to find Tara and found her out by the elevators, frantically pushing the down button.

“Tara, stop,” he said, his voice harsher than he’d intended, a direct result of the panic flowing through his veins.

The elevator doors slid open, and when she moved to bolt inside, he grabbed her arm and held her back, not wanting her to leave like this.

“Jackson, I have to go,” she pleaded, her voice as distressed as the angst in her tear-filled eyes. “I need to go.”

“And I need you to talk to me,” he said firmly, trying like hell to ignore the pounding of his heart. “What just happened back there?” He had a general idea, but this extreme reaction of hers worried him the most. Along with the fact that she was running away. From him.

She shook her head, the agonized expression on her face nearly killing him. “I don’t belong here.”

“What do you mean, here?”

“With you,” she said as those tears gathering in her eyes started rolling down her cheeks. “Brynn is right. You deserve someone better than me. I don’t fit into this world of yours and I never will.”

“Tara, that isn’t true.”

“Yes, it is. Don’t you see? I’ll never be free of my past. The terrible choices I made and the consequences I’ll live with forever. You deserve better than someone whose actions will come back to embarrass you in front of your colleagues and your boss. Someone who belongs in your world.” She choked out the words and hit the button to call the elevator once again.

The doors slid open a second time, and a blinding desperation clawed at him. “Tara—”

She stepped into the elevator just as Georgia came out of the office appearing genuinely contrite that she was interrupting him. “Jackson, I’m really sorry, but the call from Giles Patterson that you’ve been waiting for all morning is on line two.”

Fuck. Jackson clenched his jaw in frustration as his gaze locked with Tara’s as she stood inside the elevator, leaving him torn between what he wanted to do and what he had to do. It was an important phone call, potentially worth a fifty-million-dollar contract, and he couldn’t blatantly ignore Patterson or put him off. It would be career suicide to blow off a man of his caliber. Hell, even if Jackson had gone to lunch with Tara, he would have excused himself to take the call.