A Fractured Echo

Chapter 22

The 'she-devil' was still in full flight as my feet reached the mezzanine, unaware her audience had just doubled, while Jackson stalked back to the table, putting some distance between them once again. Spotting me out of the corner of his eye, the discomfort at her presence which clouded his usually handsome face, eased a touch. Raising an index finger slowly to my lips, a silent request for him to not give me away, he gave an imperceptible nod of acknowledgement disguised by pretending to glance at his pile of work.

Taking a deep breath, tamping down the anger brewing towards this poor excuse of a woman, I schooled my features. The black scowl that had been present, was replaced with a bright smile and an air of confidence. Not that I felt confident about my next actions, but in my messed-up head it made perfect sense.

Striding purposefully forward, I breezed past the queen of amateur dramatics, straight to Jackson's side. Reaching up to wrap my hands around the back of his neck, I pulled him in for a tight hug, hoping he wouldn't look alarmed. With his ear close enough, I whispered, "Pleased trust me."'

Whether it was relief at my arrival, or just acknowledgment of the request, I couldn't be sure, but his arms snaked around my waist pulling me firmly against his body, as his forehead nuzzled into my neck gently. Without even uttering a word, he instilled in me the self-assurance to go through with my crazy idea.

Releasing my grip, my hands trailed down the defined contours of Jackson's arms, as he loosened his hold on me a fraction. As my fingertips reached the exposed skin just below the elbow where his shirt sleeves were rolled back, I allowed myself a moment to squeeze him in reassurance, before pressing a small kiss reverently against the corner of his mouth. My lips hovered over the stubble still scattered across his jaw thanks to his apathy towards shaving, for a couple of beats longer than perhaps they should, as his familiar aftershave flooded my nostrils. The comforting scent was an added bonus to being around Jackson, and on this occasion, provided another subtle boost to my sureness in what I was doing.

Stepping back from Jackson's embrace, I placed the plastic wallet on the table, my now free hand seeking out Jackson's until our pinkie fingers connected, entwining in silent solidarity. Glancing up at him, I smiled playfully. "You were gone when I woke up this morning."

It wasn't a lie as such, but a slight stretch of the truth. He'd taken Constance out for dinner, and they were just returning as I was heading for bed. If it helped sell the illusion, then what harm could it do.

Catching on quickly, Jackson murmured suggestively, "Well you were worn out by the time you went to bed."

Again, not a lie. It was only nine when they got back, but I was just starting up the stairs as the door opened. We'd chatted until it was impossible to stop myself from yawning every other word, leading to Jackson urging me to go to bed as he ushered his aunt into the lounge, offering to make her a cup of chamomile tea.

"And whose fault was that, keeping me up talking?" Swatting him playfully with my free hand, the flicker of amusement in Jackson's eyes was worth the risk I'd taken. The urge to protect him was overwhelming in the presence of such a calculating, manipulative creature. Not that I believed Jackson was fooled by her act for a single second, it was just impossible to ignore my need to make sure he knew exactly what her game was. Having a little fun with it, was just a deliciously satisfying by product.

Almost on cue, a disgruntled cough echoed from behind, "Do you mind? We were in the middle of a conversation."

Giving Jackson a wink, I turned slowly to face her, an expression of mock horror gracing my face. "Oh, I'm so sorry, where are my manners? Holly Jones, pleasure to meet you."