Where There’s Smoke, There’s Fire
PENELOPE
The drive to Delilah’s was longer than I remembered.
It was Friday night and the Lincoln tunnel was crowded. I sat in the passenger seat of Jackson’s polished car with my briefcase, some toys… and the most unpredictable man I’d ever met.
Like the car in which he drove, Jackson Reed was darker on the outside than in, his blue eyes masking the emotion beneath.
Concern contorted his features, and as he drove me to my sister’s house with my niece’s presents in tow, I couldn’t help but stare at him—to stare at the man who’d just a day ago warned me to stay away from him.
Who warned me to avoid him like the plague, doing everything he could to make me run for the hills.
And it wasn’t the first time.
Four years ago he’d done the same thing, makin
