I Wish You Were Mine
Page 53

“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?”
“The whole reconciliation thing?”
He nodded. Took another strip of cheese, still not looking at her.
Mollie’s eyes narrowed slightly. Usually he balked any time Madison’s name was mentioned. But he was different tonight. Thoughtful.
Oh my God. Was he considering getting back together with Madison? The thought made her want to throw up. Here she was running all over the city trying to find the perfect kind of freaking bread, and he and her sister were having a heart-to-heart about their marriage.
It hurt. It hurt far more than it had a right to considering she and Jackson weren’t a couple. Not really.
Still, how dare he lead her on when he was going to jump ship the second Madison perfected her innocent routine and—
Mollie forced that train of thought to stop dead in its tracks. What was she doing? Turning on her sister? This was exactly why women should never hook up with their friends’ exes, much less their sister’s.
She turned back toward the cutting board so they were standing shoulder to shoulder, not quite uncomfortable in the silence, but close.
“So how did you leave things?” she asked as she cut off a pad of butter and dropped it into the skillet. “With my sister.”
He turned slightly so that he was facing her, both of them watching as she twisted the burner on and the blue flame clicked to life. There was another moment of silence, and Mollie thought he might not respond, but after another sip of beer he finally spoke.
“I think she’s up to something.”
Mollie felt a twinge of panic and tried to stifle it. “Like what? She’s shacked up with Alec.”
“I think they broke up.”
The panic roared to life. Slowly she turned to face him. “She wants you back.”
It felt good to put the words out there. No use beating around the bush.
He lifted a shoulder and took a sip of beer.
“Oh God,” she muttered, turning back around.
“Hey,” he said gruffly, coming up behind her. “Look at me.”
Mollie ignored him, mindlessly arranging the cheese onto the buttered bread before lowering it to the bubbling butter in the pan. She was reaching for the spatula when Jackson swore softly, his hand snaking across the stove controls and turning the burner off. “Damn it, Mollie, will you please look at me?”
She reluctantly turned her face so that her eyes met his, reading the frustration on his hard features.
His gaze searched her face. “You know I don’t want her.”
You don’t think you do.
His fingers wrapped around her arm as he jerked her up and toward him, so that their chests collided.