I Wish You Were Mine (Oxford #2)(36)

“Oh, man, you’re so whipped,” Jackson said with a smirk.

“Definitely.” Cassidy snapped the box shut, put it back in the drawer, and faced Jackson once more, his usual straight face back in place. “So, thoughts?”

“About your girlfriend? I’ve only met her once, but first thought: super hot.”

Cassidy’s eyes narrowed, but Jackson could only shrug. Emma Sinclair was hot. Tall, slim, tailored, a tiny bit haughty until you saw her eyes, which radiated warmth. At least when she looked at Cassidy.

“I was talking about your willingness to use your public status for the sake of Oxford.”

“Meaning what, exactly?” Jackson asked warily. “You want me to agree to a couple of those interviews in exchange for a shout-out to the mag?”

Cassidy sat back in his chair. “I was thinking something a little more in-house.”

“Dude, just spit it out. I can handle it.”

His boss leaned forward again. “Let us interview you. Let us tell the Jackson Burke story, Oxford exclusive. An inside look at one of our own.”

“Ah, shit,” Jackson said.

He understood why Cassidy had to ask, but Jackson couldn’t help feeling a brief stab of betrayal. He hadn’t realized it until now, but Oxford was supposed to be his safe place. His people. The place where he could finally get away from being, well, Jackson Burke.

“I get it,” Cassidy said. “And know this—your job is safe, whatever your answer. But Oxford isn’t the only one that can benefit from this.”

“Shit, Cassidy,” Jackson repeated tiredly, throwing back the last drops of his espresso. “The whole this-is-for-your-own-good routine? You’re better than that.”

“I know you want the world to forget about you, to leave you alone, and they will. But it’s going to take a damn long time as long as you stay wrapped up in mystery. The sooner you give them what they want, the sooner their curiosity is satisfied, the sooner they’ll move on.”

Jackson slouched in his chair and tapped his fingers on the paper cup.

“You know I’m right,” Cassidy said, shaking his head. “And if you do it through us, you get to control it. It’s on your terms. It’ll be your friends.”

“My friends?”

“You’re a football player, Burke. Our sports section is one of the best in the industry thanks to Cole and Penelope, and—”

“Cole and Penelope. That’s who you want to have tell my story.”

“You know what?” Cassidy said, holding up his hands. “You’re right. You go ahead and go find some stranger—some hungry-for-scandal reporter—and have them tell your story. Better yet, let the paparazzi continue to stalk this building, taking pictures of you. Let your publicist continue to field shitty request after shitty request, and—”

“Oh, save your speech,” Jackson grumbled. “I’ll think about it.”

Cassidy eyed him closely. “Do.”

Jackson stood. “We done?”

His boss nodded. “And Burke…”

Jackson paused halfway to the door but didn’t turn around.

“You can trust us,” Cassidy said quietly.

Jackson left his boss’s office without responding.





Chapter 14


On Friday evening, just days after her sister had flown into New York and then flown back to Houston without so much as a goodbye, and since Mollie had kissed Jackson Burke, she stood in front of her closet and tried not to think about either one.

Not Madison.

Definitely not about Jackson.

She put her hands on her hips, closed her eyes, and tried to get into first-date mode. In thirty minutes she would be sitting across the table from Lincoln Mathis, and she felt…

Confused. Utterly confused. She didn’t know what to think. How to feel.

She definitely didn’t know what to wear.

She pulled out the red dress that she’d worn at that disastrous first dinner with Jackson. It was her sexiest dress by far, but…did she want to be sexy for Lincoln Mathis?

Hard to say, since she didn’t know the guy, but everything Jackson had told her sounded promising. A run-of-the-mill Google check had been very promising. The guy was gorgeous. Definitely red-dress worthy.

And yet…

Wearing only her bra and panties, she wandered over to the full-length mirror and held up the dress.

She loved the way the dress made her light hair seem a little less blah. Loved the way it called attention to her long legs while also making her flat chest seem less flat. As far as first-date dresses went, it was a knockout. Mollie pulled it over her head before she could second-guess herself.

Then she pulled out her makeup bag, making her eyes a little smokier than usual and adding a nude-colored lip gloss. Strappy, high-heeled sandals were the finishing touch.

Not quite a Victoria’s Secret Angel, but not bad. Not bad at all.

Mollie gave herself a little wink in the mirror, then made a mental note to axe winking from her playbook. She totally couldn’t pull it off.

The last step was moving her essentials from the big bag she usually carried around into the cute red Chanel clutch she used for special occasions. Her hands faltered slightly as she remembered where she’d gotten the clutch. Christmas, three years ago—Jackson had given it to her.