She was spitting her sentences out rapid-fire, and he gave her a soothing smile he knew would piss her off. “If nobody will believe me, why are you so worried?”
Madison didn’t respond. Her scarlet nails were tapping against the arm of the chair, and he knew her well enough to be aware that her mind was racing.
“What if there was another way?” she asked.
“Another way for what?”
“For you to get the coaching job.”
“There’s not,” he said flatly. “The NFL won’t touch me with a ten-foot pole so long as I’m public enemy number one.”
She stood and picked up her purse. “Don’t give that interview just yet. Promise me.”
“I’m not promising you shit.”
“Two days.” She held up a couple of fingers. “I need two days.”
“For what?”
Instead of answering she spun on her heel and went to the door, turning back once she was in the doorway. “I’m not done with you, Jackson. And like it or not, you’re not done with me either.”
Madison was gone before he could reply, leaving only the faint scent of her favorite Jimmy Choo perfume behind.
“You’re wrong,” Jackson said, even though nobody was around to hear him. Because somehow he felt it was important to say it out loud.
But even after speaking the words, Jackson couldn’t ignore the gnawing worry that Madison was about to make his life a hell of a lot more complicated.
Chapter 22
Mollie wasn’t much of a cook, but she did have one pretty kick-ass specialty: grilled cheese.
She made a killer grilled cheese sandwich. She knew the secret. See, people thought it was all about the cheese, but that actually wasn’t true. Any kind of cheese was delicious when it was all gooey and melty.
No, the difference between an average grilled cheese sandwich and an exceptional one was the bread.
Mollie was partial to sourdough. Nothing beat a grilled cheese sandwich with freshly baked sourdough and perfectly melted Swiss.
Lucky for her, New York City wasn’t short on bakeries, and it had taken only a couple of minutes of googling before she’d found a bakery that had sourdough bread within walking distance of their apartment. Add in a stop for some cheese, a bottle of wine for her, beer for Jackson, and she was in business—the business of making dinner for Jackson Burke.
She was singing along with a Dixie Chicks oldie, sipping a glass of wine and spreading the perfectly softened butter onto the bread, when she heard the front door open.
“Hey there!” she called as she heard the clink of his keys hitting the silver key tray in the foyer.
Jackson appeared in the kitchen. He tossed his suit jacket on the back of the barstool, his finger already hooking into his tie in the now familiar gesture of loosening it.
Big dope that she was, her heart swelled at the sight of him—at least until she realized that he hadn’t said anything in greeting. Hadn’t even looked at her.
She frowned as he walked to the fridge and pulled out one of the bottles of beer she’d bought him—a local craft brew he’d mentioned liking—without acknowledging its appearance in his kitchen. He flipped the top off and took a long sip.
Her eyes took on a worried look as she gazed at him. This tense, angry Jackson wasn’t the Jackson who’d left her naked in bed this morning. This was the same Jackson she’d met in the bar weeks ago. What the hell could have happened to change him from—
Then it hit her.
Madison.
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Madison was the only one who could have done this to him.
Thinking about her next move, she took a sip of wine, then set the butter knife aside. No way was she wasting one of her perfect grilled cheese sandwiches on him until she knew what was going on here.
“Rough day?” she asked casually.
He gave her a sharp look. “It was fine.”
Great. So they were playing that game.
“So I was thinking, how about next weekend for the party?” she said, turning and leaning back against the counter so she could face him. “I know it’s not a lot of time, but that’s probably better. Makes it seem more like a spontaneous get-together among friends, and—”
“Madison came by my office.”
She sucked in a little breath before letting it out.
“She’s in New York?”
His gaze was sharp. “She didn’t tell you?”
“No,” Mollie said, her throat feeling dry. “She didn’t.”
How could her own sister—her only sister—not tell her they were in the same state? Especially after Madison had left last time without saying goodbye.
At least Jackson wasn’t lying to her. That was something.
“Okay,” she said slowly, picking up her wineglass. “Did you, um…tell her? About us?”
He met her eyes and shook his head. “No.”
Mollie swallowed, not sure if she was relieved or dismayed.
Relieved, mostly. She wasn’t ready for Madison to know what was going on, but Mollie knew that when Madison did find out, it needed to come from her. And yet she didn’t want to be Jackson’s dirty little secret either.
“What did she want?” Mollie asked.
He grunted as he moved toward her, pulling a piece of sliced cheese off the cutting board. “What do you think?”