Cross Check (Marriage Contract #1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

hits me like a punch to the gut. Jamison King is here. At
DeLeonardo’s. Waiting for me. Loudon didn’t mention anything about Jamison
being here tonight. Not a word. Why the hell would he spring something like
this on me? And since when are the two Mr. Kings chummy enough to be breaking
bread again?
    Though a veritable whirlwind of questions is running through
my mind, every single one of them flies out of my head as Franco guides me
around the corner. My eyes land hard on Loudon’s usual secluded corner
table—but it isn’t Loudon I find there. A pang of recognition twists my core as
I set eyes on Jamison King, in the flesh. I’m so accustomed to seeing his
airbrushed form in advertisements these days that I almost forgot how beautiful
he is in person. No photograph could ever capture the exact color of his cobalt
eyes, the set of his jaw, his resting expression of sharp, knowing confidence.
    For a brief moment, I wonder if I should turn on my heel and
book it out of here before he sees me. I’m not ready to be in his presence
again. I need to prepare. And strategize. And figure out how to defend myself
against the magnetic effect he has on me. But just as I start shifting my
weight to run like hell in the other direction, I feel his gaze lock onto my face.
Our eyes meet across the grand dining room, and for a second that connection we
forged as kids hangs between us in its pure, original form.
    That is, until his crackling gaze rakes down along the
length of my body, leaving searing tendrils of heat in its wake. There’s
nothing childish about that look.
    “Well fuck me,” Jamison grins, rising to his feet, “Leah
Brody.”
    “Hi Jamison,” I say, feeling my spine straighten like a
steel rod as I hold out my hand for him to shake. “Good to see you.”
    But he ignores my outstretched hand completely. Instead, he
closes the space between us with one sure step. Wrapping his arm lightly around
my waist, he pulls me in and brushes his lips against my cheek. It’s all I can
do not to turn my mouth toward his as it approaches, as every cell in my body
begs me to do.
    “I think we’re a little beyond a hand shake, don’t you
think?” Jamison murmurs in my ear, before he pulls away.
    It’s as though the mere sight of him has reduced me to a
naive girl of eighteen once again. The overpowering sexual energy that was
finally let loose on his last night in our hometown is roiling just under the
surface of this very moment. But Jamison is no eighteen-year-old boy anymore.
Time has been very kind to my old friend and rival. He’s at least four inches
taller, for one thing, and broader in the shoulders to boot. His well-formed
teenage muscles have clarified and hardened, but somehow he’s even more
balanced and assured than he was back then. Even his facial features have grown
more striking in their definition. His cunning blue eyes, aquiline nose, and
sharp jaw have been enhanced by a smattering of stubble, just a shade darker
than his sandy blonde hair.
    “Leah?” Franco prompts, dragging me out of my gob smacked
reverie.
    I glance over at him and see that he’s been holding me chair
out for me while I’ve been standing here gaping like a moron. I hurry to take
my seat before Jamison can tell just how much of a loop his presence has thrown
me for. As Franco disappears from our company, I draw in a deep, calming
breath. So I happen to be sitting here with Jamison King, after twelve years of
radio silence. So what? He may be a famous athlete and media personality to the
rest of the world, but to me he’s still just Jay—my literal boy next door.
    Or so I try to tell myself.
    “So. What's good here?” Jamison asks, glancing down at
DeLeonardo’s extensive menu.
    “Really? That’s what you open with?” I ask wryly.
    “What other sort of opening did you have in mind?” he
challenges, lifting a perfect eyebrow—a gesture he shares with his dad.
    “How about you explain what you’re doing here, to