I Wish You Were Mine (Oxford #2)

by Lauren Layne

  To Jackson’s credit, he nodded in agreement. “She was a decent sister to you back then.”

  Mollie lifted an eyebrow. “I take it by your addition of ‘back then’ that you don’t think she’s a good sister to me now?”

  “I’m not here to poison your thoughts about your sister, Mollie. All I’m asking is that you separate your relationship with her from your relationship with me.”

  “It’s not that simple,” she whispered.

  “Make it that simple. I’m single. You’re single. And I refuse to feel ashamed or guilty for having sex with the woman I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. Let’s be adults about this, Molls. We keep on as we’ve always been; we just add sex to the mix. Really good sex.”

  She opened her mouth, and he leaned forward, placing his hand over her lips before she could speak. “Let’s enjoy each other. If that’s dirty foreplay in the kitchen, we do it. Hot sex in the shower, definitely. My bed, your bed, all the beds . . .”

  She laughed and pushed his hand away. “Is there any part of the plan that doesn’t involve sex?”

  “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Because all the other stuff between us? That’s still there. You’ve always had my back, Mollie. And I’ve had yours. Adding sex to the mix won’t change that.”

  She wanted to say yes. She so desperately wanted to take what he was offering, to finally, finally live her life for her, to do what she wanted to do, not what Madison wanted her to do.

  Jackson slid a hand behind her head, his thumb resting on her cheekbone. “I want you, Mollie. If you don’t want me, tell me, and I’ll back off.”

  Don’t do this to me.

  His eyebrows lifted. “This is the part where you tell me you want me. Maybe mention how well endowed I am.”

  “Jackson—”

  He made a scolding noise and leaned forward again, but she put a hand over his mouth. “Ground rule: no kissing until I’ve had a chance to brush my teeth.”

  Jackson’s grin was slow and happy. “And then you’ll come back to bed?”

  Mollie couldn’t help but smile in response, even as her heart was screaming, Danger!

  “Yeah. And then I’ll come back to bed.”

  Chapter 19

  Early Monday morning, Jackson strolled into the Oxford offices with two Starbucks cups in hand. One was his usual double espresso; the other was an Americano.

  He stopped by the reception desk and set the Americano in front of a surprised-looking brunette.

  Joanna Barry was Oxford’s receptionist and office manager. She was one of those women who looked twenty-two—hell, she probably was twenty-two—but had the composure of a sixty-year-old librarian. She took absolutely zero shit from anyone, which was a damn useful skill in an office of womanizers. As far as he could tell, the woman had never so much as flirted with a single one of the guys, and yet she was universally adored. It was impressive.

  “What’s this?” Jo asked, giving the cup a skeptical look.

  Jackson shrugged. “An Americano. For you.”

  Her cat-shaped brown eyes narrowed. “Where’d it come from?” Jo peered around him as though looking for Cole or Lincoln or one of the other guys who regularly brought her coffee.

  Jackson waited until her suspicious gaze returned to his and then gave her a wide grin.

  Jo’s eyes narrowed further. “Are you smiling right now?”

  He reached out and nudged the coffee toward her. “Come on. You know the other guys won’t be in for hours. You think I don’t notice that you and I are always the first ones here on Mondays?”

  “Well, you, me, and Cassidy,” she pointed out, picking up the cup and giving it a skeptical glance. “You really got this for me?”

  “Thought it might be fun to join the competition to be your favorite. I’ve stayed out of the fray until now, because let’s face it, it’s not even a fair fight. But do me a favor—take a picture of Cole and Lincoln’s faces when they roll their asses in here and see that I’ve beaten them to the punch.”

  She shook her head. “You know you guys are going to kill me with caffeine, right?”

  He shrugged and reached out to take the cup from her, but she batted his hand away. “I’ll choke it down.”

  “Enjoy, darling.”

  “First a smile, then a ‘darling’? What is going on with you right now, Burke?”

  “Just wanted to join your fan club.”

  “Uh-uh,” she said, giving him a studying look. “I’m thinking you’ve recently joined another woman’s fan club.”

  Jo’s comment immediately made him think of Mollie, which in turn made him smile.

  The receptionist gave a knowing chuckle. “Oh, man, Burke. You’re in trouble.”

  “Hell, you think I don’t know that?” he grumbled good-naturedly.

  He was in trouble. He and Mollie had spent the weekend together. In bed, mostly. But there’d been other stuff too. Bingeing on Breaking Bad episodes. Gorging on delivery food. They’d even gone to the gym together, and it had felt surprisingly . . . normal. Hell, everything about the weekend had felt normal.

  Which he supposed, made sense. He and Mollie had always been comfortable around each other.

  But the sex part . . . that had felt right too. More than right. It had felt fucking fantastic. They hadn’t been able to get enough of each other. If anyone had told him just a month ago that he’d be having the best sex of his life with Mollie Carrington . . .

  Jo shook her head and smirked. “Must have been some weekend. Shouldn’t you be buying her coffee?”

  He’d already brought Mollie coffee. Of course, she’d been fresh out of the shower and warm, damp, and naked, which meant the coffee was cold by the time she’d gotten to it, but still . . .

  “You said Cassidy’s around?” Jackson asked, jerking his brain away from the memory of naked Mollie before his stirring cock turned into a full-blown erection.

  “In his office,” Jo said, attention already back on her computer.

  Jackson started to head that way, but Jo’s voice stopped him. “Hey, Jackson.” He turned, and she lifted her cup. “Thanks.”

  Jackson gave her a wink, which made her roll her eyes. “Just what this office needs. Another charmer.”

  Cassidy’s door was open, and he glanced up at Jackson in surprise. “Burke. You’re in early.”

  “Not really. I always get in around this time.”

  “Huh. How come I never see you?” Cassidy asked.

  Because I usually head straight to my office like an antisocial jackass. “Got a minute?” Jackson asked, ignoring the question.

  “Sure, come on in.”

  Jackson sat down, depositing his laptop on the floor before leaning forward and clasping his coffee cup between both hands. “I’ll do it.”

  Cassidy frowned. “Sorry?”

  “The interview. For the magazine. I’ll do it.”

  Cassidy leaned back in his chair, folding both hands over his trim stomach as he studied Jackson with cool green eyes. “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?” Cassidy asked.

  “Shit, I don’t know, man. Do we have to talk it out?”

  “I just want to make sure you’re not feeling pressured into it. Your job is safe either way, and—”

  “Boss, do I strike you as the sort of man who could be pressured into something?”

  “No, but you do strike me as an intensely private man who will make the interview process as painful as possible for Cole and Penelope.”

  Jackson lifted a hand. “Best behavior, Scout’s honor.”

  Cassidy’s eyes narrowed slightly as he gave Jackson the same skeptical look Jo had. “What’d you do this weekend?”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary,” Jackson said, keeping his voice casual.

  “Ri-i-ight,” Cassidy said, dragging the word out. “So if you’re positive about the interview—”

  “I am.”

  “All right, then. I’ll tell Penelope a
nd Cole the good news as soon as they get in.”

  “Great.” Jackson picked up his bag and stood. “Also, I was thinking for my next piece, I could do a look at the way different sports shape your body. Thought I could feature you in the section on scrawny soccer players.”

  “Oh, absolutely,” Cassidy deadpanned. “Just make sure you get a nice selfie for the part about bulky, no-neck football players—”

  “I’m going to stop both of you right there before you embarrass yourselves any further,” Lincoln said from the doorway.

  Cassidy and Jackson both looked over at him.

  “Dude,” Jackson said. “What are you drinking?”

  Lincoln held out a plastic cup filled with pale pink froth. “Strawberry Frappuccino, extra whip. Want some? Or is your manhood threatened?”

  Jackson shook his head and headed out of Cassidy’s office, unsurprised when Lincoln fell into step beside him.

  “How was your weekend?” Lincoln asked. Jackson ignored him, and Lincoln gave a dramatic sigh. “Are we fighting?”

  Jackson spun around, getting in Lincoln’s face so quickly the other man nearly dropped his pastel beverage.

  “What the hell, man?”

  “You stood her up,” Jackson snapped.

  Lincoln didn’t even flinch as he brought his drink up to his face and took a long slurp from the green straw. “Yeah? How’d that work out for you?”

  Jackson shoved him. Not hard, but hard enough to let Lincoln know he meant business.

  Lincoln’s smile dropped and his eyes hardened, showing a side Jackson hadn’t seen before. “Watch it, Burke.”

  Jackson ignored this. “I don’t know how the hell things work in New York City, but where I’m from, decent men don’t stand a woman up twenty minutes before they’re supposed to pick her up. And they sure as hell don’t do it by calling her roommate.”

  “Hell, man, you think I don’t know that?” Lincoln said, shaking his head. “If I thought for one second this Mollie girl was actually looking forward to me taking her out, I’d have been there with fucking flowers.”

  “How could you possibly have known what she wanted? You wouldn’t, because you never showed.”

  Jackson was practically shouting now, and they were getting plenty of stares as people slowed on their way to their respective desks.

  Lincoln glanced around at the eavesdroppers before swearing quietly under his breath. “Jesus, Burke. Fine, let’s finish this in my office.”

  Jackson followed him into his office, but as soon as the door was shut he picked up the argument again. “You could have—”

  “First of all,” Lincoln said, slamming his drink on his desk and pulling his cross-body bag over his shoulder and tossing it on his chair, “I didn’t have your girl’s phone number.” He glared at Jackson, visibly pissed. “Second of all, yes, I’m deliberately calling her your girl, because hell, Jackson, I’m not an idiot. You should see your face when you talk about her.”

  Jackson’s head snapped back. Sure, now he thought of Mollie as his girl, but up until Friday he’d been doing everything in his power not to. Hell, he’d been the one to set her and Lincoln up.

  And yet . . .

  Had he not spent all of Friday wanting to punch Lincoln Mathis’s pretty face?

  Had his stomach not turned over at the thought of Mollie wearing that tiny, sexy red dress for anyone but him?

  “I’ve dated a lot of women,” Lincoln said quietly. “But I’ve never dated another man’s woman. You’re my friend, man, even if you are an ass.”

  “How’d you know—”

  “That you were hung up on her?” Lincoln finished for him. “I didn’t. Penelope did. Although it was Cole’s idea to cancel at the last minute. Said you wouldn’t be able to resist being her hero.”

  Jackson grunted.

  Lincoln picked up his pink beverage, all good humor restored. “So how’d it go, huh? You owe me. I spent Friday night alone with my dog.”

  Jackson’s eyes narrowed. “You did?”

  “Okay, fine, you caught me. Got laid by the hot bartender in the apartment below me. But then I went back upstairs and cuddled with Kiwi.”

  “Who the hell is Kiwi?”

  “My dog,” Lincoln said, as though this were obvious.

  Jackson shook his head. “You drink pink beverages, you’re wearing a tie clip, and you have a dog named Kiwi. Please tell me Kiwi is a big-ass German shepherd.”

  “Nope. Maltese. Five pounds of white fluff that would fit in your hand.”

  “That’s sweet,” Jackson said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Do you put bows in her hair?”

  “No,” Lincoln said. “She never lets me.”

  Jackson shook his head and turned toward the door. “How you get laid is beyond me.”

  “Hey, Burke.” Jackson turned back to see a serious look return to Lincoln’s face. “We good?”

  Jackson held the other man’s eyes for a moment, realizing that as messed up as his methods might have been, Lincoln had done him a favor. For that matter, so had Penelope and Cole.

  “Yeah,” he said. “We’re good.”

  Hell, Jackson was better than good. He was great.

  At least for now.

  Chapter 20

  “I swear to God, Mollie, if you’re trying to trick me into trying sushi again . . .”

  “I’m not going to try to make you try sushi,” she said with an eye roll. “But for the record, you sound like a huge baby.”

  Three days after sleeping with Jackson, Mollie was all but dragging the reluctant man down Ninth Avenue for a surprise lunch date. The streets of Manhattan were always crowded, but at lunch hour on a Monday, there was a bit of a stampede thing going on. Five minutes later, she led Jackson into a restaurant and watched his face expectantly.

  His look of surprise followed by a flash of happiness gave her more satisfaction than it should have considering it was a random weekday lunch.

  He glanced at her with a stunned smile. “Barbecue?”

  She shrugged. “Don’t get too excited. I can’t vouch for it being the best in the city or anything, but Yelp says it’s good. Plus it’s the closest I could find to your office, but if you’d rather—”

  He touched his fingers to her elbow just briefly. “Thank you.”

  She bit her lip. “You’re welcome.”

  “What about your lunch schedule, though?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “I told them I needed an extra hour. They probably think I need to go to the lady doctor or something. Nobody asks questions about Pap smears.”

  He winced. “Thanks for that.”

  She patted his cheek before following the hostess to a small table.

  When they were seated, Mollie didn’t even open her menu. She just watched Jackson’s face light up as his eyes scanned the offerings with enthusiasm.

  Truth be told, despite being born and raised in Texas, Mollie had never gotten quite as excited about barbecue as Jackson and Madison were. Maybe she’d spent too much time away from the Lone Star State or something, but she’d take a nice ahi tuna salad over brisket any day. Still, she could easily suffer through a few ribs if it meant Jackson would keep smiling at her.

  “Okay, so I’ve been thinking,” she said once the server had taken their drink orders.

  He groaned. “You know, don’t you, that a woman starting a sentence that way always means bad things for a man?”

  “I’m going to try very hard not to be insulted by that,” she said, eyes narrowed.

  He held up his menu. “Can I order first?”

  “If it means you’ll say yes to my fabulous idea, by all means.”

  “Am I going to need a beer for this idea?” he asked, attention already back on the menu.

  She pursed her lips as she considered. “Probably couldn’t hurt.”

  When their server came back with Jackson’s Coke and Mollie’s Diet Coke, Jackson proceeded to order half the menu and a beer before looking expectantly at her.


  She blinked. “You’re going to eat all of that? I thought that was for both of us.”

  “Woman, you’re hot, but you’re not that hot.”

  She shook her head and opened her menu. “Um, the pulled pork sandwich with fries.”

  “Anything else?” the bored-looking waitress asked as she scribbled down Mollie’s order.

  “Nah, I’ll just pick from the buffet he ordered.”

  “She will not be touching my food,” Jackson said.

  The waitress gave the tiniest of eye rolls before disappearing.

  “Okay, so,” Mollie said, pulling her glass toward her and cupping it with two hands. “You said yes to your boss about the interview, right?”

  “Right.”

  “And you’re feeling good about it?”

  He hesitated. “I’d rather talk to Penelope and Cole than anyone else, so yeah, I guess.”

  “And Penelope and Cole are . . . friends?”

  Jackson smiled. “Babe, you sound a bit like a mother hen who’s worried her chick isn’t fitting in on the playground.”

  “Are you? Fitting in?”

  “Things are getting better, sure. I don’t know that I’m next in line to be best man at anyone’s wedding, but things are fine.”

  Mollie chewed on her lip. This was exactly what she was afraid of. Jackson had the New York address, he wore the suit, he played the game, and yet . . . he held himself back. He didn’t hang out with his coworkers outside of work. Didn’t have any other New York–based friends that she knew of. He talked on the phone a fair amount with his former teammates, and while she was glad he was keeping in touch with old friends, she was worried that Jackson Burke still very much had one foot firmly in Houston. Because while he’d never specifically alluded to going back there, he seemed to approach New York with an element of temporariness, as though at any moment he was ready to pack up and move home.

  And much as it hurt her to think it, she was confident that for Jackson, Texas was home. His job might be here. But his heart . . .

  Jackson’s eyes were watching her face carefully, his shoulders tense as though bracing for whatever she was about to throw at him.