That series meant a lot to me.” Jackson sat beside her, careful to leave space between them. “I had no idea this was happening, but that stops now.” He hesitated, then added more quietly, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I should have paid closer attention.” The sincerity in his voice caught her off guard.
This wasn’t the distant executive she glimpsed in corporate meetings, or the charming pretend husband from the reception. This was someone else entirely, a man taking responsibility, showing genuine regret. “Why do you care so much?” she asked before she could stop herself. “I’m just one editor among dozens.” Jackson looked away, his profile sharp against the city lights beyond the window.
“Because I started as an editor, too, before the MBA, before the corporate ladder. I know what it means to love books, to fight for stories you believe in.” He turned back to her, his gaze intense. “And because I’ve watched your work from afar, Rebecca. The authors you discover, the manuscripts you champion, they’re always something special.
” The unexpected praise left her momentarily speechless. Before she could formulate a response, a small voice came from the bedroom doorway. “Mommy, I had a bad dream.” Penny stood there in her Disney princess pajamas, clutching the stuffed rabbit she’d had since infancy. Her eyes widened when she spotted Jackson. “Mr.
Magic Man, did you come for a sleepover, too?” Rebecca tensed, but Jackson smoothly knelt to Penny’s level. “No, sweetheart. I just stopped by to make sure you and your mom were comfortable. I heard you had a bad dream.” Penny nodded solemnly. “There was a dragon under the bed.” “That is serious business,” Jackson agreed, matching her grave tone.
“I happen to know that dragons are terribly afraid of brave flower girls, though, especially ones who know how to do magic.” “I don’t know any magic,” Penny whispered, but her fear was already fading, replaced by curiosity. “Sure you do.” Jackson reached into his pocket and produced a quarter, the same trick he’d used earlier.
“Remember this?” As Jackson patiently taught Penny the simple sleight of hand, Rebecca watched them with a growing knot in her throat. Her daughter, usually shy around strangers, especially men, was giggling and attempting to mimic Jackson’s movements with clumsy determination. What surprised Rebecca most was Jackson’s patient gentleness, the way he encouraged each attempt with genuine warmth rather than condescension.
When Penny finally mastered the trick, or a 5-year-old’s approximation of it, her face lit with triumphant joy. “Now the dragon will be scared of me.” “Absolutely terrified,” Jackson confirmed. “Want me to check under the bed just to be sure?” After a thorough dragon inspection and two more demonstrations of her new magical powers, Penny allowed Rebecca to tuck her back into bed.
When Rebecca returned to the living room, she found Jackson standing by the window again, his expression pensive. “Thank you for that,” she said quietly. “You didn’t have to be so kind to her.” “It wasn’t kindness, I enjoyed it.” He turned to face her. “She’s a remarkable child.” “She is.” Rebecca hesitated, then added, “Her father has never met her.
He was gone before I even knew I was pregnant.” Jackson’s expression remained carefully neutral. “His loss.” “I used to think so.” Rebecca sank back onto the sofa. “The truth is, it was probably for the best. Michael wasn’t exactly father material.” “Was he abusive?” Jackson’s question was gentle, but direct. “Not physically, just She searched for the right words.
“Selfish, manipulative, convinced his big break as a musician was just around the corner, while I paid all the bills.” She gave a bitter laugh. “The irony is, he finally did get that record deal 6 months after walking out. I saw his face on a billboard in Times Square last year.
” Understanding dawned in Jackson’s eyes. “Your ex is Michael Delaney?” Rebecca nodded, surprised. “You know his music?” “My niece is obsessed with his last album.” Jackson sat beside her again. “No wonder you’re wary of men with ambition.” The observation was too accurate for comfort. Rebecca changed the subject. “It’s getting late.
You should go before people start talking.” “Let them talk.” Jackson’s gaze held hers. “Unless you want me to go?” The question hung between them, loaded with unspoken implications. For one reckless moment, Rebecca considered asking him to stay. Not as her pretend husband or her boss, but as the man who had shown her glimpses of someone worth knowing throughout this strange evening.
Instead, she stood, putting necessary distance between them. This has been unexpected. But we should remember who we are on Monday morning. Jackson rose as well, retrieving his overnight bag. At the door, he paused. You know, you never answered my question from earlier about whether I was really pretending. Before Rebecca could respond, he was gone, leaving her alone with the question that would keep her awake long into the night and the growing suspicion that this masquerade might have awakened feelings neither of them had bargained for.
What she couldn’t know was that Jackson Hayes had secrets of his own, secrets that would soon threaten everything they had begun to build. Monday morning arrived with the harsh clarity of reality. Rebecca stepped into Meridian Publishing’s gleaming lobby with Penny’s sticky goodbye kiss still warm on her cheek and her mind churning with questions about the weekend’s events.
She’d spent Sunday alternating between analyzing every moment with Jackson and firmly reminding herself that it had all been an act, a convenient arrangement that was now concluded. The elevator doors opened to reveal Daniel Morgan himself, his perpetually smug expression souring at the sight of her. Rebecca.
Recovered from your illness, I see. She stepped inside, refusing to be intimidated. Morning, Daniel. Yes, thank you for your concern. He snorted, making no attempt to hide his disdain. I’ll need the Mitchell manuscript on my desk by noon. The marketing team has questions. Rebecca maintained her professional smile, despite the familiar twist of frustration.
