Amy laughed. “He’s still a smooth talker.”
The three of them moved over to the open bar and refilled their drinks, then found a table and sat down.
“The fashion show will be starting soon. I’m hoping to find a new dress,” Amy told them.
“Something low cut,” Lucas added with a waggle of his eyebrows.
“Would you behave?” Amy said. “This is a black-tie event.”
“Yes, Lucas, please behave,” Jackson told him with a real smile.
Their table soon filled up, and Jackson joined in with the small talk, but the only saving grace of the evening was the presence of Lucas, someone he actually enjoyed speaking to. Soon the show started, and Jackson had to grit his teeth as model after model walked down the runway, decked out in the newest fashions from Paris.
When the show was coming to a close, a red-haired woman stepped onto the runway in a stunning emerald gown and made her way smoothly down the aisle. The chattering at their table continued, but Jackson tuned them all out as his eyes locked in on the model.
As she drew closer, he let out his breath and felt his stomach knot up. For just a brief moment, he’d thought the woman was Alyssa. It had taken only a second for him to realize his mistake, but just thinking she was in the room with him had made his blood run hot.
It had been two months since he’d woken up to find her gone. Instead of the normal relief he should have felt, he’d had the urge to chase after her, demand she come back. He wasn’t finished yet.
But after the initial urge, Jackson had told himself it was better this way. She was just a woman he’d met on a plane. They were never going to have more than a night together. That’s what he wanted, what he needed.
So why was the sight of a redhead walking down a runway sending pangs of longing through him two months later? Obviously, their night had been a good one. That didn’t mean he should still be thinking about her, though.
Jackson shook his head in frustration and focused on the man to his right. What was he saying? When Jackson realized where the conversation had gone, fury rushed through him. It seemed he wasn’t the only person who’d noticed the model had looked like Alyssa.
“It was quite tragic, really. Alyssa Gerard was going places,” the man said as he lifted his glass and sipped his wine.
“Oh, come on, now,” a woman piped in. “Aren’t all models doing what she did? I mean, they all sleep their way to the top. They don’t care if the man—or woman, for that matter—is married. They just care about their careers.”
“She did a show for my company last year. I was impressed with her poise and attitude. She seemed different,” another woman said.
“Ha! That’s all an act,” the first woman stated, making Jackson’s temper rise a few degrees.
“I don’t think I remember an Alyssa Gerard,” Lucas said.
“She was nearing the end of her career,” another person remarked.
“Except she did have that cosmetics contract.”
“Well, she must not have slept with the right people if it took her so long to land that one.”
And Jackson was done. When he stood up so quickly that his chair scooted back several feet behind him, the people at his table went silent, obviously wondering what had antagonized him. Let them wonder.
“Excuse me,” he almost growled, then turned and walked away.
He nearly turned around to at least tell Lucas and Amy good-bye, but he couldn’t even do that. Not with the black mood that he was in. It was better for all of them if he left without delay.
He hadn’t wanted to come, hadn’t wanted to socialize with anyone. And now he wasn’t even in the mood to meet with the congressman. It could wait. Jackson didn’t know why he couldn’t get Alyssa from his mind, and didn’t know why he’d become so upset when others had spoken ill of her, but he was damned upset.
Once outside the building, he immediately reached into his inside pocket and pulled out one of the cigars he carried, just in case he felt the urge to have a taste of the sweet tobacco when attending one of these events.
“Trying to skip out early?”
Turning, Jackson found himself standing with Joseph Anderson. His father had been friends with Joseph for as long as Jackson could remember. There were times they didn’t see Joseph much, and times he was around more often, but Jackson had always liked and respected the man.
The years Jackson had spent in foster care had taught him early not to trust people. His father, Martin, had helped heal him, and Joseph had shown him that there were more people in this world he could trust. Money hadn’t corrupted Jackson’s father, and it hadn’t corrupted Joseph Anderson. They both did great things for many people.
“I’m starting to get a headache,” Jackson said as he reached for his lighter.
“Are you going to be rude, boy, and smoke that alone?” Joseph asked with a scowl.
“I wouldn’t think of doing that, Joseph,” Jackson said with a smile as he reached into his pocket, pulled out another cigar, and handed it over. He was glad he’d run into Joseph, or vice versa—it was hard to remain in a black mood with this man around.
“Mmm, good quality,” Joseph said after he accepted Jackson’s lighter and took his first puff.
“I don’t smoke one very often, so I only get the best,” Jackson said.
“What caused that angry look on your face?”
Busted, Jackson thought. There was no way he was telling Joseph anything about Alyssa Gerard. He’d spoken to Joseph’s sons, and they were pretty sure their father had quite a bit to do with their sudden desire to marry.
Jackson in no way wanted to be shot by Cupid’s arrow. Sure, he was thinking of Alyssa Gerard a little more than he was comfortable with, but that was just a slight infatuation. It would pass.
He ignored the fact that his feelings for the woman hadn’t diminished in two months. He knew he was lying to himself—he was desperate to find her, but for that very reason, he knew he couldn’t. If he’d really wanted to find the woman, no problem—money had its advantages. So he obviously didn’t want to find her, right?
“I’m fine, Joseph. Just can’t stand this black-tie atmosphere,” Jackson finally said when he realized he hadn’t answered Joseph’s question.
“Ah, Jackson, it’s nothing more than a song and dance. All the players move in perfect sync together and then they go on their merry way. When you get as old as me, you learn to care about what matters, and just let the other stuff go.”