I Wish You Were Mine (Oxford #2) (13 page)

“Okay, then,” she said, starting to close the door.

Jackson’s hand came up, his palm stopping the door before she could shut it. “Have dinner with me.”

“Well, yeah, I wasn’t going to eat in my bedroom. I’m just changing, then I’ll be back out.”

“No, I mean have
dinner
. With me. At a restaurant.”

Her breath caught at the intensity in his gaze. “Jackson—”

“Don’t say no.”

She blinked in surprise at his cocky command. “Why shouldn’t I?”

His grin was slow and sexy as he braced both hands on the door jamb and leaned in slightly. “Because I really like you in that red dress, Molls.” He backed up before she could respond and gave her a little wink. “We head out in five minutes. I’ll go call a car.”

Mollie stared after him as Jackson walked back down the hall, whistling a Tim McGraw song.

Well, whaddaya know,
she thought. Maybe Jackson Burke hadn’t forgotten how to smile and tease after all.

Somewhere around the arrival of the appetizers, Jackson quit trying to find reasons why asking Mollie out to dinner had been a mistake. It was time to accept that he enjoyed this woman. Had always enjoyed her.

The kiss might have been a mistake, but it didn’t change the fact that it was only with Mollie that Jackson felt he could relax.

“So anyway,” she said as she heaped a generous portion of steak tartare onto some fussy little piece of toast, “getting to have my own team would be huge, but…I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know? Isn’t that a promotion?”

“Of sorts,” she said, taking a bite. “But the thing is, I only have my master’s degree right now.”

“Yeah, I know. I paid for it,” he said with a wink.

“And I paid you back, every last penny,” she retorted. She did something with her face then, and he narrowed his eyes.

“Did you just wink at me and fail?” he asked.

She tried again, her face scrunching up comically, her whole head tilting to the side.

He laughed. “Mollie Carrington, are you telling me you can’t wink?”

She sighed. “Apparently not. I’ve never thought much about it, but I tried it earlier in the mirror and it was a disaster.”

“Why were you winking in the mirror?”

She glanced down. “I was trying to see if I could pull off this dress.”

Jackson nearly groaned. “Trust me, you can pull off the dress.”

She gave a happy smile that did dangerous things to his insides, so he cleared his throat and steered them back to safer topics.

“So you have your master’s…”

“Right, I have my master’s, but in order to move to the next level, I need my doctorate. But I don’t want to do
that
until I have a better idea of my focus.”

“And do you?”

She let out a weary sigh and took a sip of her cocktail. “Not really. I still want to do it
all
.”

He laughed, and she narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“It’s just that you haven’t changed since you were hell-bent on pulling off a quadruple major in three years.”

She laughed. “Oh, right. That phase. Yeah, well…all dreams must die.”

“But you still pulled off a triple major and graduated a semester early. Biology, chemistry, and sociology. No easy task.”

Her lips parted. “You remember that?”

Jackson glanced down at the table, feeling strangely embarrassed. “Apparently.”

She stared at him before shaking her head. “Anyway,” she said after a moment of awkward silence, “I know the Ph.D. is next, and I know I’m close to deciding. I just want to be sure.”

He took a sip of his drink. “Do you think you’d go to school here? In New York?”

She shrugged. “It’d depend where I got in. It’s
beyond
competitive.”

He nodded.

“But I’d apply,” she said softly. “To schools here, I mean.”

He swallowed. He didn’t know why her answer was important, but it was.

“What about you?” she asked casually, running a finger around the edge of her plate to scoop up some of the sauce before licking it off. “Planning on staying in New York?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. It’s not home.”

“Left your heart in Texas, did ya?”

His eyes narrowed as he wondered if she was making some reference to Madison, but she only seemed curious.

“You don’t like New York?” she went on.

“If I had a gun to my head and had to describe it one word? Hideous.”

“Oh, come on,” she said. “You can’t tell me you don’t get off on the energy here. The city is so
alive
.”

“Sure. Alive with pigeons and rats and roaches and—”

She laughed. “Stop. Why are you here, then?”

Great question.
“Nowhere else to go, I guess. Needed to do something after the accident.
Oxford
’s the only one that offered. Other than porn.”

She snorted. “It’s that bad, then?”

He took a sip of whisky. “Actually, it’s getting better, I think.”

“The job or the city?”

“The job.”

“I read your latest article. It was good, Jackson.”

He snorted. “You sound surprised.”

“I’m just glad you’ve found something. Something besides football.”

Jackson’s head snapped back a little. “This is only a temporary gig, Molls. Until—”

She frowned. “Until what?”

Until I can convince my former boss to give me a coaching job.
But he didn’t say it. Wouldn’t say it out loud until he knew he had a chance. But the last email he’d gotten from Jerry had said that while he was damn good at football, there was no chance until Jackson had gotten his public image in order. Which meant…

“I’m thinking of doing an interview with
Oxford
.”

She frowned. “You mean for
Oxford
?”

“No, I mean telling my story. To the sports editors there.”

She sat back in her chair. “Wow.”

“You don’t think I should?” he asked, oddly desperate to hear her answer.

She took a sip of wine. “I don’t know. I mean, I guess you
should
. If Madison hadn’t talked, you could play the whole ‘Please respect our privacy during this difficult time’ card, but she
did
talk. She went on the offensive, and unless you defend yourself, you look guilty as hell.”

He shook his head. “You can admit that, and yet you and Madison
still
think I’m going to want to get back together with her?”

“People make mistakes,” Mollie said gently. “Madison knows she made some: going public with your problems, divorcing you when she did.”

“Those aren’t little mistakes. Those are the rip-a-man’s-heart-out-and-pour-salt-in-the-gaping-hole-in-his-chest type of mistakes.”

Something flickered across her face. “So her leaving—it ripped your heart out?”

He groaned and reached for a piece of bread.

“Oh, come on,” she pleaded. “Drop the macho act for thirty seconds, then you can go back to dragging your knuckles.”

He shook his head and dunked the bread in oil. Jackson had never really understood the appeal of Italian food, but he had to admit the Italians did know their way around bread.

“You know, most women like the macho thing,” he said, chewing his bread.

“Yeah, in
bed,
” Mollie said. “But dinner at a nice place? Well, let’s just say we don’t mind a little beta.”

“Beta?”

“Jackson Burke, are you intentionally trying to avoid answering questions about my sister?”

He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Fine. You want to do this? Sure. Yes, she ripped my heart out. Yes, she left me when I needed her the most, and it fucking hurt. Okay? Even though things were awful between us long before that, when I was in the hospital…well, it would have been nice if she could have waited. Now, are we good, or should we stop on the way home and get me a diary and a soft pink blanket to snuggle?”

Mollie studied him. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. About the other women, I mean.”

He lifted a shoulder. “It was almost a year ago. And your sister told you I was a man whore, so…”

She reached across the table. “You’re my friend. I should have ranked that higher than I did.”

Jackson was a little shocked at just how much her apology meant, and surprised them both by flipping his hand over so that they were palm to palm.

She jolted a little at the contact but didn’t pull away. He didn’t either.

He told himself it was just a friendly touch—a thank-you for being there. For being Mollie.

But there was nothing friendly about the way touching her made his pulse quicken and his cock harden. When she’d walked out of her bedroom tonight in that damn red dress…
hell
. He’d just barely stopped having nightly fantasies about taking that dress off her after the last time he saw her in it. Now he was going to have to start all over again, remembering that under no circumstances would he be fulfilling his fantasy of pulling it off her, seeing what was underneath, setting his mouth against her smooth skin, and…

“How are we doing? Ready to place entree orders yet?” their waitress asked, appearing out of nowhere.

Mollie jerked her hand back so quickly she nearly knocked over her water glass, but Jackson could have hugged their server for preventing him from saying or doing something fantastically stupid.

The waitress disappeared again after taking their order, and Mollie’s usual bright, friendly smile was back in place. “Okay, so about this interview. You know you could get anyone, right? The
Today
show. Oprah. Anyone.”

He gave a grim smile. “Yeah, but with
Oxford
I might actually have a chance of coming out ahead.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just…they’re friends. Sort of. Or they could be if—” He stopped.

“If what?”

“I don’t know,” he muttered, taking another sip of his drink.

“Jackson, do you want these people to like you?”

He swallowed, refusing to answer out loud, but looked across the table at her, willing her to understand. He saw it the minute that she did.

She leaned back and tapped her fingers against the table, as though struck with a brilliant idea. “We should have a party.”

He frowned. “Um, what?”

“A big cocktail party. At your place. Our place. Right before the interview. Spend all your trillions of dollars.”

He smiled, seeing right through her plan. “You want to bribe them to write good stuff about me?”

“No,” she said softly. “I just want them to have a chance.”

“A chance for what?”

“To
know
you. You’re a good man, Jackson Burke. Even if you don’t think so.”

He grunted. “Nobody thinks so these days.”

“I do.”

His chest tightened. “Mollie—”

Jackson’s phone buzzed in his pocket, ruining the potential moment, and he pulled it out to silence it.

He froze when he saw the name.

“Shit.”

“Lincoln again?”

Jackson shook his head.

“Ah,” she said, setting her water glass down. “Madison.”

Jackson nodded.

“You can answer it.”

“Jesus, Mollie. I’m not going to answer a call in the middle of dinner with another woman.”

“But you want to,” she challenged.

“I don’t,” he said emphatically, putting his phone away to prove it. “I don’t want to talk to her now, or ever. But at the same time…” He searched her face. “She’s always going to be there, Mollie. I look at you, and I see
you,
I do, but I also see—”

“Her,” Mollie finished flatly.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

“I get it,” she said. “Madison’s the most important person in the world to me, and it’s…it’s complicated.”

Jackson gave a wry smile, and because he knew her, he understood what she was saying—and what she wasn’t.

But as he let Mollie steer the conversation back to safer topics—work, and the delicious food, and interview etiquette—he couldn’t stop watching her and wondering if this was one case where
complicated
would be absolutely fucking worth it.

The ride home back to Jackson’s place—no,
their
place—wasn’t quite awkward, but neither was it the easy silence of two people completely comfortable with each other.

True to the weather app’s prediction, it was stormy, and the raindrops on the cab window gave midtown Manhattan a blurry, dreamlike feel.

Absently she traced the Chanel logo of her bag, as she so often did when she carried this particular clutch. Feeling eyes on her, Mollie glanced over at Jackson, finding him watching the idle motion of her fingers with a tense, unreadable expression.

Mollie turned away, focusing her attention on the raindrops racing across the window. She didn’t try to hide the small sigh that crept out. She was
tired
. Tired of whatever was happening—or not happening—between her and Jackson.

One thing was becoming painfully clear: they couldn’t keep doing this. They could stay friends, certainly, but they needed distance. Living together had been a mistake on every level. Not only because she’d gone into it knowing full well she was a pawn in some warped contest between her sister and Jackson, but because she’d done it a little bit for
herself
as well. Her brain might be over her crush on Jackson, but her heart…

Her heart was still hung up big-time on this guy she could never have.

Tomorrow she would search for an apartment. Maybe she’d look closer to the university, find a semi-normal roommate. It wouldn’t be a Park Avenue penthouse, but maybe she and Jackson could get back to normal.

Whatever normal was.

Mollie didn’t know what her role was in his life anymore. Once upon a time she’d been his confidante. The one he’d come to when Madison was having a tantrum. The person he’d called after a bad practice when Maddie had been out with the girls
again
.

But things were shifting. There was an undercurrent between them that felt darker and far more dangerous than whatever she’d felt for him before.

Whatever Madison wanted for Jackson, her sister would just have to figure that shit out on her own.

Once back on the Upper East Side, Jackson paid the cabdriver and they rode the elevator up to the penthouse in silence. Not angry silence. Not even truly awkward silence. Just the quiet of two people who knew there were things to be said, but didn’t know what things.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said as he flicked on the light in the foyer. “I had a good time.”

He nodded and dropped his keys on the console table. “It was my pleasure.”

It was Mollie’s turn to nod, giving a horribly dorky wave as she started to head toward her bedroom.

Then she stopped, pivoted on her high heel, and turned back to face him. He hadn’t moved.

“Okay, this is dumb, Jackson.”

“What’s dumb?”

She walked toward him, stopping several feet away. “What is happening to us? We used to be friends. Heck, there were times when you felt like my best friend, even though we were in different time zones. Now we’re all tense and walking on eggshells, and you’re weird.”

“
I’m
weird? You’re the one who’s kissing me one night and going out with another guy days later.”

“You said that kiss was a mistake. I’m not going to put my life on hold while you go hot and cold on me.”

“Cut me some slack, here, Mollie! I don’t exactly know the protocol. A year ago you were my wife’s sister, and now you’re…”

“I’m what?”

“Fucking hot!” he shouted.

“Well, make up your mind what you want to do about it!” she shouted back. He glared, but Mollie refused to back down. “You don’t get to pin me against the kitchen counter and kiss me and then wave me off on a date with another guy. I’m not going to apologize for wearing my favorite dress for Lincoln—”

“Bullshit,” he said quietly.

“What?”

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t think that red dress is for Lincoln. And those itty-bitty pajamas…”

“I told you, that’s what I always sleep in! Quit acting like it was some sort of seduction plan. I was in the kitchen looking for a glass of water, not sneaking into your bedroom in edible panties!”

His eyes flashed, desire mingling with anger, and as he stepped closer, Mollie realized they were both breathing hard.

“What about that first night?” he asked, his voice low. “You wore this sexy red dress then, too. Who was that for, Mollie?”

She licked her lips nervously. “I told you, I was planning to go out with friends after. We were going to a club.”

“Is that so?” His voice dropped down a pitch, and he moved even closer.

Mollie told herself to step back, to put more space between them—only to find that she didn’t want to.

“Yes,” she whispered.

His breath was warm on her face. “I think you’re lying. I think you wore that dress because you wanted me to notice you. I think you were tired of being Madison’s kid sister. You wanted me to
see
you.”

His words so perfectly voiced the exact yearning she’d had that night that Mollie squeezed her eyes shut. “Jackson—”

“I saw you, Mollie. I’ve
been
seeing you.” His voice was hoarse. Urgent.

He was so damn close.

All she had to do was tilt her head up, shift her weight forward, and there’d be no space between them. She could put her lips on his, and she’d be kissing—

Her sister’s ex.

Mollie stepped back.

“Damn it, Mollie, now who’s playing games?” He reached out a hand toward her, but Mollie dodged it, backing away farther, just slightly unsteady on her high heels.

“Don’t, Jackson,” she said, her voice not nearly as firm as she would have liked. “I’m going to go to my bedroom. You’re going to yours. Tomorrow I start looking for a new apartment.”

“Come on, you can’t—”

Again she didn’t let him finish. “No, I
can
. I need to. This proximity was a mistake, and we both know it. It makes us think we want things that we—” She broke off. Took a breath. “Jackson, you once told me you loved my sister more than anything. My
sister
. I can’t just forget that.”

He swore and raised a fisted hand to his forehead, tapping gently as though wanting to physically remove whatever was going through his mind at that moment.

She swallowed. “You’d regret…whatever was about to happen just then,” she said. “You’d wake up and hate yourself.”
And I’d be brokenhearted.

He let his hand drop, both arms dangling at his sides as he stared at her miserably.

Mollie knew then that she was right. Whatever it was he thought he wanted tonight wasn’t what he wanted in the long term. There was no future for her and Jackson Burke, and anything resembling a fling would be disastrous for both of them.

She started to tell him good night, then realized that there’d be no such thing as a
good
night for either of them. Mollie knew full well that she’d be staring at the ceiling into the early morning hours.

Mollie turned slowly and headed toward her room, torn between wanting to cry and wanting to scream.

She’d done the right thing. It was all too weird. And Jackson and Madison might be divorced, but Mollie’s gut was telling her that Jackson hadn’t let go of his previous life yet. He was still clinging to the old Jackson. And the old Jackson meant Madison.

Mollie’s stomach twisted at the thought. She shut her bedroom door and in a daze lowered herself slowly to the bed. Forced herself to run through what a reunion between her sister and Jackson would feel like. Forced herself to remember what it had been like to watch the casual way Jackson had always pushed Maddie’s bangs back from her perfect face. The little ways Madison would touch Jackson, even as she carried on a conversation with someone else. They were so used to each other. They belonged together.

There was a knock at Mollie’s door, slow but loud. Deliberate.
Daring
her to ignore it.

She wanted to ignore it.

She wanted to crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head, and wake up in someone else’s body, in someone else’s life. She didn’t want to be smitten with a man she couldn’t have.

And yet…he was her friend. Despite the murky sexual haze, she cared about him. And she couldn’t ignore the knock of a friend.

Mollie got up and went to open the door.

Jackson stood there, suit jacket gone, tie loosened around his neck, as he braced both hands on the door frame, staring angrily down at her.

“You’ve got it wrong.” His voice was harsh.

“Jackson—”

He cut her off. “No, it’s my turn to talk. You’ve given your speech. And I get it, Mollie, I do. Madison is your sister, and she made you PB&J as a kid when your parents checked out, and that’s fine. But open your eyes. You don’t owe her anything anymore. You are your own woman, and you
are
a woman, Mollie. You’re not a kid. You’re not a girl. And if I’ve been a complete asshole lately, it’s because I’m having a hell of a time coming to grips with the fact that I want you. And fuck, Mollie,
I want you
. I want you so bad, I’m dying.”

Mollie had never made the first move on a man in her life. She was old-fashioned like that. But she made the first move now.

She took a step forward, placed a hand at the back of his head, and pulled his mouth to hers.