I took a deep breath, took out my phone, and searched for Jackson’s number.

His a*sistant had sent it to me when I booked the room for him yesterday.

Jackson answered after three rings. His calm and a*sertive voice came from the other end of the line, and a feeling I couldn’t explain washed over me.

“Ms. Palmer, what can I do for you?”

How did Jackson know it was me?

“I saved your number yesterday,” he said, answering my unspoken question.

I got straight to the point, not wanting to ...