I Wish You Were Mine
Page 6

His eyes traveled up over the trim ankles in their sexy sandals, over the defined calves and toned thighs and narrow hips. The woman was tall and thin, bordering on lanky, which he didn’t usually go for, but it was working for her. In a big way.
His gaze kept right on going, over the narrow waist, over the small but perky breasts, until he reached her face.
Pretty. Very pretty. Her shoulder-length blond hair was sexy and tousled, her eyes big and blue. And that mouth…
That mouth was smiling at him. No, smirking. At him.
The woman had definitely caught him in the act of leering.
Shit, he thought. Might as well roll with it.
Jackson calmly lifted his drink to his lips as he met her eyes, only to experience a jolt as their gazes collided.
No. Hell no.
Jackson felt a punch of lust in his gut, followed by something else…something low and dangerous, not unlike an eerie siren trying to tell him that his complicated life was about to get a whole lot worse.
Slowly the woman lowered herself to the barstool next to his. He watched in horrified arousal as she reached out, plucked his drink from his hand, and raised it to red, red lips, taking a deliberate sip.
Only after she’d set the drink—his drink—back on the bar did she speak.
“Hello, Jackson.”
Damn, he thought. If he’d been in trouble before, he was completely fucked now.
Jackson swallowed. “Mollie.”
Chapter 3
Jackson Burke was here.
He was here.
After nearly eight months of radio silence, he’d taken her up on her dinner invitation, and she felt…
She felt…
She felt…
Mollie threw her arms around him before she could stop herself, her cheek buried against the fabric of his suit.
“I missed you,” she said quietly.
His hand came up to her elbow. Gave it an awkward pat as he cleared his throat. “Missed you too.”
Mollie pulled back, and before she could think better of it, she placed both palms to his face, turning his head slightly from side to side so she could study him. She couldn’t help it. She’d always been a toucher—it was how she figured things out.
And what she was trying to figure out was how Jackson Burke was. Not how he said he was. How he actually was.
He looked handsome, but then he always did, in that rugged, sexy-as-hell way. His hair was that in-between place of dark blond and light brown that looked blah on women but which men could easily pull off, especially when paired with sexy hazel eyes and the perfect amount of stubble.
And yet Mollie looked closer. Saw beneath the perfect bone structure and full bottom lip. She saw the tension around his mouth, the flat look in his eyes.
It was worse than she’d feared. This was a shell of the man she’d once known.
Damn you, Madison.
He rolled his eyes at her scrutiny before gently pushing her away. “Quit inspecting me. My great-aunt Millie used to do that when she saw me once a year on Christmas, and then ask if I’d considered witch hazel for the pimples.”
Mollie released his face. “She was probably right. The bark and leaves of Hamamelis virginiana make a powerful astringent that is thought to help acne.”
Jackson let out a laugh. “Jesus. I haven’t seen you in eight months, and practically the first word out of your mouth is ‘acne’?”
“You don’t have any, if it makes you feel better. Pimples, I mean. I’d tell you if you did.”
“I know you would.” His eyes softened slightly as he smiled at her.
“So are you going to tell me how you’ve been, or what?” she asked, slapping the bar with her palm a little impatiently.
Jackson hesitated, licking a drop of whisky from his bottom lip with his tongue.
Mollie’s stomach tightened a little, but she told herself that it hadn’t. It mostly worked—she’d gotten darn good at telling her body that it had absolutely no response to Jackson Burke.
“How about we start with you?” he asked.
“Nope,” she said, already shaking her head. “You know how I am. I’ve been emailing you at least once a week for months. You know about my job and my friends and that weirdo I dated, and—”
“Anything you think you might have forgotten to mention?” he interrupted.
Mollie frowned. “I don’t forget things.”
He smiled. “Fine. Anything you might have neglected to mention?”
Mollie tapped her nails across the bar as she thought it over. “You mean updates on Madison?”
He flinched. “God, no. Why the hell would I want to hear about her?”
Mollie felt a little stab of relief. She’d deliberately avoided any mention of her sister in her messages to Jackson. She couldn’t imagine that he’d want to know how Maddie was doing—not after the way their relationship had quietly imploded and then violently exploded.
But for some reason, it was a relief to hear it all the same. She didn’t want to have to be the one to tell him that Madison was not only dating the guy she’d left Jackson for but had invited him to move into the house Jackson and Maddie had shared—the house that Jackson had bought.
That was just what a divorced man didn’t need to hear. That not only had his former wife kicked him out, she’d replaced him with a guy who was neither younger, nor richer, nor more successful.
Although Madison must think that her new fling had something to offer her. Madison didn’t do anything that didn’t benefit her directly.