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“No, thanks, though that does sound nice,” I admitted. “But the time with Mom is invaluable. I couldn’t pass that up.”

“How is she? I meant to ask you that during our meeting, but didn’t get the chance when it ended so suddenly.”

For once, he was being real. No façade, no trying to impress me. “She’s in a period of remission right now, thank God. But I’m always watching and waiting, and, of course, she knows it. I’ve been driving her crazy ever since I got back.”

He didn’t chuckle with me. “I bet she’s too happy at you being back to care whether you hover a little. It’s good to hear she’s doing well right now.”

It was incredible, the swelling in my chest when he looked at me the way he did while we exited to the lobby and walked to the elevators. You have a son. He’s beautiful, sweet, smart, and he reminds me so much of you. There was no choice but to look away from him or else risk ruining everything, not only for me, but for Liam and Mom. My heart would have to keep swelling with no relief.

Only once we were in the elevator with him leaning past me to hit the button for his floor did it occur to me what we were doing. The heat that rushed through me when our arms brushed didn’t help matters. My throat went tight and my face flushed, and dammit, how easy would it be to forget the meeting and pick up where we left off? It had been much too long since I’d had a date, much less gotten laid. Liam hadn’t exactly made it easy, needing so much of my time when I wasn’t working, not that I minded a bit. Men were nice, but they complicated things.

Case in point—the rush of heat that made my skin heat up when Jackson’s gaze met mine. “Don’t get the wrong idea, Frosty,” he murmured before I could come up with anything to say, his square jaw tightening as he looked me up and down. At least his use of the oh-so-clever nickname he came up with during lunch put a stop to my body’s unfortunate reaction to his gaze. The prick. Like there weren’t a dozen names I could call him here and now.

I’d chosen another pantsuit for today’s meeting, wanting to look professional, like I had my shit together. He had a way of studying me that left me feeling naked. “This is business only. I’m not the Big Bad Wolf luring you into my den, even if I wouldn’t mind spending a little time together on a personal basis.”

When I shot him a sharp, surprised look, he shrugged his broad shoulders. I could almost feel them under my hands, so firm and bulging. “We can’t do that,” I somehow croaked, then cleared my throat. “Not that we should have before.”

“Right. Before.” The doors opened at exactly the right moment since his features hardened in time with the clenching of his fists. “I have the schedules printed out and ready for your review in the suite.”

It was better this way, keeping things professional, even if a little chilly. If we warmed up too much, I’d end up doing something stupid like tripping and falling onto his bed with my legs spread wide. Being in his presence for only a few minutes already weakened my resolve. The man was my kryptonite.

There was so much to look over once we reached his tastefully decorated suite, where an oak desk held his laptop and a handful of stuffed folders. “Make yourself comfortable,” he offered, flipping through pages. “Feel free to hit up the minibar if you want.”

“It’s not even noon yet.” I settled for a bottle of water, uncapping it and taking a deep gulp. The cool sensation spread through my chest and battled the warmth still present.

“I thought people drank all day long in France.” He sounded distracted as he searched for whatever he couldn’t find. “Figured I’d help you feel more at home.”

“How kind of you.” I glanced through the open door leading into the bedroom and forced myself to keep walking back to the desk, dropping into a small armchair nearby and gazing out at the view of the Strip beyond. It was worlds away from where I’d called home for four years, that was for sure, but I had never quite felt at home there. Maybe because it wasn’t really my choice to go. I’d made it work because there was no other way.

Just like there was no choice now but to keep quiet and be a good girl.

“Here we go.” He pulled two copies of the schedules I’d put together, along with a red pen, prepared to make changes. He would want to make changes, wouldn’t he?

“I thought everything out, down to the last detail,” I insisted.

“Sure, but there are other things to consider. Did you check in with the lighting and sets crews to clear the space on certain days when I know they’ll need it for tech run-throughs? They have schedules too.” With a smirk and a flourish, he pulled out a second calendar. “Voila.”

“Okay, smart-ass.” I tried to ignore his soft laughter as I skimmed the contents before we settled in to work things out. We were halfway through before a sharp knock rang out at the door.

“The hell is this?” Jackson grumbled, huffing as he stood and crossed the room. I watched him peer out through the peephole and noted the way his shoulders rose. “Shit,” he groaned.

“Sweetheart?” a woman called out from the hall.

Shit, indeed.

I was on my feet before he opened the door, my legs trembling. What was she doing here? I imagined this so many times, facing her again after all these years. In those fantasies, I wasn’t in Jackson’s hotel suite.

Time hadn’t changed her, but then she probably drank virgin blood or sacrificed kittens to keep herself looking youthful. Her belted Armani dress accentuated her small waist and lean legs, but it was the way she carried herself—nose in the air, shoulders thrown back—that spoke a thousand words. “So this is where you’re working while you—” The sight of me cut her off.

“Mom.” Jackson took her by the elbow and led her closer to where I stood, feeling a little chillier with every step she took. “This is Winter Monroe. She was once one of my dancers, and she choreographed the production we’re now about to begin working on.”

“I’d heard the choreographer once performed in a Bennett production,” Diana explained with all the fake warmth and kindness in the world as she extended a manicured hand complete with a diamond ring I would have felt paranoid about wearing in public. Her handshake was brief, but she maintained that fake friendliness. If I hadn’t already met the other side of her, I might actually believe she was for real. The woman should have been an actress.

“That’s right.” And there I was, acting right along with her, playing the game while Jackson stood by. He didn’t look as oblivious as I expected, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and wearing a brittle smile. It would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so damn uncomfortable. “It was a pleasure to work with Jackson years back, and I’m sure we’ll enjoy it just as much this time around.”

Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have said that. Jackson coughed loudly like he was trying to cover up the sound of him swallowing his tongue. What would Mommy think if she knew he was entertaining the idea of us picking up where we’d left off? As far as he knew, she never had a clue about us back then, but he had to know she wouldn’t like the idea of him screwing around with a dancer, somebody so far beneath him, not to mention an employee.

It was Diana’s reaction that made me wish I hadn’t opened my mouth. Bright color flooded her skin under the blush she had carefully applied to highlight her cheekbones. “So long as it’s not too much of a pleasure,” she replied, almost playful, as she nudged Jackson. “My son has been known to let good times get in the way of what needs to be done.”