I Wish You Were Mine
Page 10
“I had to say no,” she said. “Obviously.”
He shrugged. “I get it. You don’t want to move in with a thirty-five-year-old bachelor. You said no. I said fine. We moved on. We’re cool.”
Mollie snorted. “Why do I find that hard to believe? Oh yeah, maybe because you quit responding to my emails once your perfect life got a little bit messy.”
His features registered pain followed by a quick flash of guilt before he resumed his glower. “Forgive me if I didn’t feel like spilling my guts to the woman whose sister was divorcing me.”
“Well, why the hell not? You always spilled your guts before.”
“And maybe I shouldn’t have,” he shot back. “Maybe if I’d made a little more effort to talk to my wife instead of her kid sister, my marriage would’ve had a chance.” Mollie’s head snapped back as if he’d struck her, and he felt an instant rush of regret. “Mollie…I’m sorry. That was beyond uncalled-for.”
“Yes. But is it true?” she whispered. “You know that I never—”
“My divorce isn’t your fault,” he said gruffly. “I’ve never thought that.”
She touched her fingertips lightly to her eyelids. “See, this is exactly why I had to say no. This whole thing with Madison makes it too complicated.”
“Madison’s in Texas,” he said.
Mollie dropped her hands and looked at him. “Doesn’t make this any less complicated.”
She was dead right. Jackson shrugged. “So keep on with your tarantula roommate and his cabbage.”
Mollie put her hands on her hips and scowled at him. “How long?”
“How long what?”
“When you suggested I move in, how long were you thinking?”
He closed his eyes. “Holy shit, Mollie, if I wanted to talk in circles with a woman, I’d have stayed married.”
When he opened his eyes, she was chewing her lip, looking adorably confused, although about what, he had no idea. He did not get women. He was more sure of that these days than ever.
“I don’t know,” he said wearily. “Until you find a new place? Look, swear to God, I was trying to do a friend a favor. I’ve got the space, you’ve got the need…” Yeah, stick with that, old man. Your motives are pure as snow, all right.
His eyes narrowed slightly as a thought struck him. “Mollie, is that why you went all Rain Man on me during dinner? Because you wanted to say yes but thought you shouldn’t?”
“Rain Man?”
He winced. “God, tell me you’ve seen it. I know I’m old, but it’s a classic.”
“I’ve seen Rain Man. I just don’t think I am Rain Man.”
“Molls, you rattled off like the fifty most common diseases I was likely to die from. You paused only when the server brought over our food, and then you proceeded to tell him the diseases he was likely to die from.”
She waved this away. “I tend to talk diseases when I’m nervous. That and animal mating habits, apparently.”
He gave her a little smile. “I know.”
And that right there was every reason she should move in, and every reason she shouldn’t. He knew her inside and out—knew what made her laugh, what made her babble. What he didn’t know was what made her moan. What made those bright blue eyes go hazy with desire. Having her within arm’s reach…
Jackson jerked his eyes away from her as he realized he’d been staring at her legs.
Mollie wandered away, seemingly unaware of his inner turmoil. And definitely unaware of his hardening cock.
“Whoa,” she breathed. “This place is amazing.”
He shrugged. Objectively he knew a penthouse on Park Avenue was “amazing.” But he rarely paid enough attention to care. “Yeah. It’s nice.”
“Nice?” Mollie muttered as she moved toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that faced the twinkling lights of midtown Manhattan. “Who’s your decorator?” she asked.
His decorator? Jesus. “No clue. I had someone make sure all this shit was here when I moved in.”
“Ah,” she said.
“You managed to dump an awful lot of meaning into that one syllable.”
She tilted her head and considered him. “Why did you really ask me to move in?”
He groaned. “Mollie, you’re killing me. Drop it.”
“I will,” she said quickly, coming toward him. “I just…you were really just being a nice guy? No agenda?”
“You mean am I planning to install a camera in the guest bathroom and watch you shower? No.”
He meant it sarcastically, but the thought of Mollie naked in the shower, suds running over her lithe body…
“Madison’s my sister.”
Just like that, his arousal went from simmering to nonexistent. Mention of his ex-wife had a tendency to do that.
“Yeah,” he snapped. “I’m aware.” I’ve been more aware than you know.
Her eyes searched his face. “Don’t you miss her at all?”
Jackson poured himself more whisky he didn’t need and refused to answer.
Mollie let out a long sigh. “I figured.”
“Figured what?”
“That you asking me to move in was some misplaced attempt at getting back at Madison for leaving you.”
Whoa, what? Jackson moved toward her, his fingers wrapping around her arm. Hard. “That’s bullshit.”
He shrugged. “I get it. You don’t want to move in with a thirty-five-year-old bachelor. You said no. I said fine. We moved on. We’re cool.”
Mollie snorted. “Why do I find that hard to believe? Oh yeah, maybe because you quit responding to my emails once your perfect life got a little bit messy.”
His features registered pain followed by a quick flash of guilt before he resumed his glower. “Forgive me if I didn’t feel like spilling my guts to the woman whose sister was divorcing me.”
“Well, why the hell not? You always spilled your guts before.”
“And maybe I shouldn’t have,” he shot back. “Maybe if I’d made a little more effort to talk to my wife instead of her kid sister, my marriage would’ve had a chance.” Mollie’s head snapped back as if he’d struck her, and he felt an instant rush of regret. “Mollie…I’m sorry. That was beyond uncalled-for.”
“Yes. But is it true?” she whispered. “You know that I never—”
“My divorce isn’t your fault,” he said gruffly. “I’ve never thought that.”
She touched her fingertips lightly to her eyelids. “See, this is exactly why I had to say no. This whole thing with Madison makes it too complicated.”
“Madison’s in Texas,” he said.
Mollie dropped her hands and looked at him. “Doesn’t make this any less complicated.”
She was dead right. Jackson shrugged. “So keep on with your tarantula roommate and his cabbage.”
Mollie put her hands on her hips and scowled at him. “How long?”
“How long what?”
“When you suggested I move in, how long were you thinking?”
He closed his eyes. “Holy shit, Mollie, if I wanted to talk in circles with a woman, I’d have stayed married.”
When he opened his eyes, she was chewing her lip, looking adorably confused, although about what, he had no idea. He did not get women. He was more sure of that these days than ever.
“I don’t know,” he said wearily. “Until you find a new place? Look, swear to God, I was trying to do a friend a favor. I’ve got the space, you’ve got the need…” Yeah, stick with that, old man. Your motives are pure as snow, all right.
His eyes narrowed slightly as a thought struck him. “Mollie, is that why you went all Rain Man on me during dinner? Because you wanted to say yes but thought you shouldn’t?”
“Rain Man?”
He winced. “God, tell me you’ve seen it. I know I’m old, but it’s a classic.”
“I’ve seen Rain Man. I just don’t think I am Rain Man.”
“Molls, you rattled off like the fifty most common diseases I was likely to die from. You paused only when the server brought over our food, and then you proceeded to tell him the diseases he was likely to die from.”
She waved this away. “I tend to talk diseases when I’m nervous. That and animal mating habits, apparently.”
He gave her a little smile. “I know.”
And that right there was every reason she should move in, and every reason she shouldn’t. He knew her inside and out—knew what made her laugh, what made her babble. What he didn’t know was what made her moan. What made those bright blue eyes go hazy with desire. Having her within arm’s reach…
Jackson jerked his eyes away from her as he realized he’d been staring at her legs.
Mollie wandered away, seemingly unaware of his inner turmoil. And definitely unaware of his hardening cock.
“Whoa,” she breathed. “This place is amazing.”
He shrugged. Objectively he knew a penthouse on Park Avenue was “amazing.” But he rarely paid enough attention to care. “Yeah. It’s nice.”
“Nice?” Mollie muttered as she moved toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that faced the twinkling lights of midtown Manhattan. “Who’s your decorator?” she asked.
His decorator? Jesus. “No clue. I had someone make sure all this shit was here when I moved in.”
“Ah,” she said.
“You managed to dump an awful lot of meaning into that one syllable.”
She tilted her head and considered him. “Why did you really ask me to move in?”
He groaned. “Mollie, you’re killing me. Drop it.”
“I will,” she said quickly, coming toward him. “I just…you were really just being a nice guy? No agenda?”
“You mean am I planning to install a camera in the guest bathroom and watch you shower? No.”
He meant it sarcastically, but the thought of Mollie naked in the shower, suds running over her lithe body…
“Madison’s my sister.”
Just like that, his arousal went from simmering to nonexistent. Mention of his ex-wife had a tendency to do that.
“Yeah,” he snapped. “I’m aware.” I’ve been more aware than you know.
Her eyes searched his face. “Don’t you miss her at all?”
Jackson poured himself more whisky he didn’t need and refused to answer.
Mollie let out a long sigh. “I figured.”
“Figured what?”
“That you asking me to move in was some misplaced attempt at getting back at Madison for leaving you.”
Whoa, what? Jackson moved toward her, his fingers wrapping around her arm. Hard. “That’s bullshit.”
