Chapter One

      Jackson Champion stood on the Bayport Container Yard loading dock, sleeves rolled up, his cowboy hat tipped back on his head. Overhead illumination eclipsed the moon, making the busy container yard brighter than day with light reflecting off the low ceiling of clouds.

      Despite the solid concrete beneath his feet, Jackson’s body still swayed to the rhythm of the ocean. It usually took more than twenty-four hours for him to get his land legs back after several weeks at sea. His two-month reprieve, delay of the inevitable, call it what it was—okay, escape was the right word—had come to an end.

      The time had come to face the consequences of a night spent in Ysabel Sanchez’s arms. Yet here he was delaying the face-to-face he owed her by sticking around to direct the offloading of cargo from his ship. A task the stevedores and deckhands normally managed quite well without his presence.

      Cranes lifted containers from the ship, stacking them in the container yard with artful precision. He didn’t have to be there, but he told himself he wanted to supervise the unloading of the special cargo he’d shipped for his remaining friends and founding members of the Aggie Four Foundation, Flint and Akeem. Just one more delay tactic. A twinge of regret passed over Jackson. One of their four had died recently; the pain still ached like an open wound.

      The crate full of expertly designed Rasnovian saddles would bring a good price at Akeem’s auction. But the money wouldn’t buy a replacement for Jackson’s pending loss. An inevitable defeat from any angle he chose to view it.

      The woman was sure to leave him. No doubt about it. She had every right. Hell, she had the right to sue him for sexual harassment if she wanted to get legal on him. Not that Izzy would do that. She was one classy lady, grown from the same stock as he was. The stock of hard knocks. A grin threatened to spill across his face. She hated being called Izzy.

      No, Ysabel wouldn’t sue; she’d walk out on him. The two months enforced reprieve could be viewed as running away from his problem—although the problems he’d encountered while away had needed his on-site decision power. Jackson chose to call it delaying the inevitable. He’d missed her and he’d miss her even more when she was gone entirely out of his life.

      He rolled the kinks out his shoulders and located the stevedore superintendent, the one man on the dock with a clue as to where the container holding the saddles was located and when it would be unloaded.

      Being the owner didn’t make him any more anxious to interrupt the complicated task of unloading a cargo ship. Weight distribution meant everything to the successful completion of the task.

      His skin twitched in the side of his jaw, impatience settling in like a case of poison ivy, making him want to scratch all over. Now that he was back in Houston, he was anxious to get to the office and see what had happened in his two-month absence from the corporation he’d built from the ground up, Champion Shipping, Inc. Everyone would have gone home for the evening, except perhaps Ysabel. If he could catch her alone, maybe he could apologize and promise not to let it happen again.

      His groin tightened at just the thought of that one night of the most incredible sex he’d ever experienced. Rebound sex, he’d called it. And it could cost him his most valuable employee. Ysabel Sanchez—executive assistant, master planner and righthand man…er, woman. Ysabel was the one person he could count on to ground him in reality, tell it like it was and pick the right tie for every occasion. Even in his absence, she managed the day-to-day operations without a snag. She’d kept his schedule straight, reminded him of his social obligations and arranged his itinerary long-distance. The woman was phenomenal in more ways than he could enumerate.

      Then why was he so hesitant to head back to the office?

      Because he knew as soon as they were face-to-face, she’d hand him her resignation and walk out. Ysabel wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of woman. She’d want the happily-ever-after, something Jackson hadn’t believed in since his mother left him and his father twenty-seven years ago.

      And after the fiasco with his ex-fiancée, Jackson was even less inclined to commit to that particular