I Wish You Were Mine
Page 47

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 and 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.”