I Wish You Were Mine (Oxford #2)

“Good night,” she said pointedly.

His smile faded and he gave a nod before turning and walking quietly toward his bedroom.

Mollie chugged her water in three gulps before shaking her head in irritation. She was definitely going to need that cold shower after all.





Chapter 13


After his late-night run-in with Mollie, Jackson was still behind on sleep. He rubbed at his tired eyes as he realized there was zero hope of getting any real work done until he’d had a caffeine fix. Another one.

Swear to God, if it wasn’t one Carrington sister turning his life upside down, it was the other. The Madison-induced insomnia he could understand. The woman had been wreaking havoc on his life for over a decade now. But it wasn’t Madison that had kept him up the past few nights.

It was Mollie.

Mollie, who had always been a constant in his life. His light when everything else was dark. She was still a constant, but there was nothing uncomplicated about the way she’d been turning him on lately. And turning him on without even trying—that was the real kicker. Jackson had had some of the most gorgeous women in the world throw themselves at him at the peak of his career, but none of them had made him feel as much of a horny schoolboy as Mollie in those tiny pajamas.

It wasn’t what he should be thinking about. He should be thinking about the fact that he’d spent two hours in his ex-wife’s company—willingly, if perhaps a bit manipulated. But during that whole dinner, mostly he’d felt…bored. For months he’d been doing his damnedest to avoid his ex-wife out of a hidden, desperate fear that he’d fall under her toxic spell. But as they’d sat there with their wine and her admittedly excellent short ribs, he’d felt nothing. Familiarity, sure. Resentment, perhaps. Even though he’d braced himself for a wave of bitterness, he’d realized he didn’t have the energy to hate her anymore.

Not only that. The other, far more alarming reason he hadn’t been able to muster up the energy to dislike Madison, much less hate her, was that his thoughts had been on her sister. And that was before he’d seen Mollie’s long legs and perky breasts on display at 3:00 a.m. Before he’d kissed her in what might have been the most erotic experience of his life.

Not that they’d talked about it. If there was a gold medal for avoiding a topic, he and Mollie were neck and neck.

He rubbed his eyes harder.

Jackson pushed back from his desk, hoping a quick walk to Starbucks would clear his head. But Lincoln Mathis appeared in Jackson’s doorway before he could escape for a much-needed espresso.

“Hey, Mathis.”

“Aww, look at us all being friends,” Lincoln said, punching his shoulder.

Jackson grunted, although secretly he was a little pleased. In the past few days, since he’d gotten sucked into the vortex of Lincoln and his friends, he’d felt a little less ostracized. People smiled at him in the hallway, and he smiled back. They weren’t all going to lunch and happy hour yet. Jackson wasn’t even sure he wanted that. But he no longer felt like the loser who played with dirt on the side of the playground while the other kids were on the swings.

“Was just about to head out to Starbucks, but if you need something—”

“I’ll come with,” Lincoln said, as though this were an obvious solution.

“Uh…okay.” Because what else could he say?

The two of them walked toward the elevators, Jackson watching in bemusement as Lincoln had something to say to everyone they passed. Literally everyone.

“Is it hard?” Jackson asked as he punched the button for the elevator. “Being this popular?”

“Why do you think I’m tagging along for some caffeine? A man gets tired giving off all this charm,” Lincoln replied. He said it with a smile, but Jackson gave Lincoln a studying glance, wondering if there wasn’t something beneath the surface.

Cole Sharpe was charming too. So was Jake. But there was something easier about Cole and Jake’s charm, as though they’d come out of the womb with a one-liner and a smile. With Lincoln, though, there was a deliberateness. As though he’d made a conscious decision to craft himself into this likable ladies’ man.

Suddenly Jackson was having second thoughts about putting Mollie in Lincoln’s path. Instinct told him that while Lincoln would be a perfect gentleman, he wouldn’t be able to fully appreciate everything Mollie had to give. He wouldn’t understand that she—

“Hey, so I wanted to talk to you about your girl,” Lincoln said, as though reading Jackson’s thoughts as the two men stepped into the elevator. “We’re still on for tonight?”