Definitely not about Jackson.
She put her hands on her hips, closed her eyes, and tried to get into first-date mode. In thirty minutes she would be sitting across the table from Lincoln Mathis, and she felt…
Confused. Utterly confused. She didn’t know what to think. How to feel.
She definitely didn’t know what to wear.
She pulled out the red dress that she’d worn at that disastrous first dinner with Jackson. It was her sexiest dress by far, but…did she want to be sexy for Lincoln Mathis?
Hard to say, since she didn’t know the guy, but everything Jackson had told her sounded promising. A run-of-the-mill Google check had been very promising. The guy was gorgeous. Definitely red-dress worthy.
And yet…
Wearing only her bra and panties, she wandered over to the full-length mirror and held up the dress.
She loved the way the dress made her light hair seem a little less blah. Loved the way it called attention to her long legs while also making her flat chest seem less flat. As far as first-date dresses went, it was a knockout. Mollie pulled it over her head before she could second-guess herself.
Then she pulled out her makeup bag, making her eyes a little smokier than usual and adding a nude-colored lip gloss. Strappy, high-heeled sandals were the finishing touch.
Not quite a Victoria’s Secret Angel, but not bad. Not bad at all.
Mollie gave herself a little wink in the mirror, then made a mental note to axe winking from her playbook. She totally couldn’t pull it off.
The last step was moving her essentials from the big bag she usually carried around into the cute red Chanel clutch she used for special occasions. Her hands faltered slightly as she remembered where she’d gotten the clutch. Christmas, three years ago—Jackson had given it to her.
Mollie had automatically assumed her sister had picked it out and put Jackson’s name on the card, but Madison had looked as surprised as Mollie to find it under the tree.
Jackson had tried to shrug it off, saying, It looked like something you’d like.
She hadn’t just liked it. She’d loved it. She smiled as she ran her fingertips over the iconic double-C symbol. It never failed to give her a little thrill of warmth, knowing he’d picked it out for her.
Mollie’s smile faded as she remembered that tonight wasn’t about Jackson. Tonight was about his very gorgeous, very charming coworker.
If Jackson didn’t like it, well, then he could stop ignoring her, the way he’d been doing all day. She would have canceled this date in a heartbeat if he’d asked her to. But he hadn’t.
Mollie dropped her cell and lipstick into her clutch and headed toward the kitchen, wishing she’d remembered to pick up some wine earlier in the day. She could use the liquid courage.
The sound of the fridge opening and closing made her skid to a halt.
Jackson turned his head, one hand still on the fridge door handle, the other holding a beer bottle. He froze when he saw her. And stared.
After several tense moments, Mollie forced a smile. “I didn’t hear you come home.”
He pulled out the bottle opener and flipped the top off his beer without looking away from her.
His eyes drifted down, lingering on her legs, then back up. “Nice dress. Familiar.”
She bit her lip. “It’s one of the few date-worthy ones I own.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “Date-worthy, huh?”
“Not that you and I were on a date that night,” she said quickly as she walked all the way into the kitchen. “I just mean…I thought…”
He gave her a small smile. “You look nice.”
Nice. It was the blandest compliment anyone could possibly drum up. She didn’t want to look nice. Not for him. She wanted to take his breath away.
“Thank you,” she muttered.
Jackson glanced at his watch—it wasn’t the ridiculously expensive one Madison had gotten him a few years before, and absently she wondered when he’d replaced it. Why he’d replaced it.
“How about a drink? Beer, wine, martini?”
She lifted her eyebrows. “You have a personal bartender back there, or…?”
“I’ll have you know that I have the deluxe man card. I can 007 it up right now, baby.”
“Just swap that suit for a tux, and you could totally give Daniel Craig a run for his money in Casino Royale.”
“I think you mean Sean Connery, darling.”
She tilted her head. “Nope. You’re definitely a Daniel Craig Bond.”
He pulled open a drawer and took out a kitchen knife, holding it to her. “Here. Just go ahead and stab me.”
“What’s wrong with Daniel Craig? He’s hot.”
Jackson waggled his eyebrows as he put the knife away. “Is he now?”
“You fishing for compliments, Burke?”
“From a hot young thang in a short red dress? You betcha.”
“A hot young thang who’s about to go out with your friend.”
“Ah. Right. That.”
Tell me not to go. Tell me I should be dating you instead. But of course he wouldn’t. Only in her fantasies.