I Wish You Were Mine (Oxford #2)(9)

Jackson frowned. “That’s not a thing.”

“I know. And get this. Pet tarantula. For real.”

“But you like bugs.”

Mollie gave him a withering look. “I don’t like bugs. I find them interesting. But not as pets. And besides, spiders aren’t—”

“Are not insects, I know.”

She patted his arm. “Impressive. But anyway, my place always smells like steamed cabbage, and I know that spider’s going to go missing someday soon. So I have to move, and I just…ugh. Moving in New York City is the worst.”

“Where are you moving to?”

“Whatever I can afford, I guess. I just hate the whole process. Finding a broker, and making sure your landlord’s not a weirdo, and—” She broke off as she realized whom she was dealing with. “You don’t know about any of this, do you, Mr. Millions?”

His smile was apologetic. “I confess I bought directly from the developer of my building.”

“You bought?” Mollie shook her head. “Of course you did. I’m having drinks with a man who can afford to buy a place in Manhattan. Hell, you can probably buy the whole city.”

This was so not her world. Even with her new makeover and attempts to get out there into the dating world, her reality was a lot more petri dishes and lab coats than it was champagne and hot men in suits. This was more Madison’s world. Madison’s man.

Except not anymore.

“So how does one go about finding a new apartment in New York?” he asked.

“Kim used to date a broker she said is pretty good. From there it’s figuring out what I can afford. After this latest roommate disaster, I’m hoping I can swing something on my own. Maybe a studio up near the university. It won’t be so bad, I guess. I’m due for a change.”

He lifted his eyebrows and took another sip of his drink. “Aren’t you a bit young to be having the itch for a change?”

Mollie rolled her eyes. “Perhaps, but I hear they have great nannies up in that area, so hopefully I can find someone to make sure the lid’s on my sippy cup nice and tight,” she said.

“Sorry,” he said. “Let’s just say I’ve been feeling old lately.”

Mollie pivoted on her seat and glared at him. “Jackson Burke, do not pull that shit with me. You’re thirty-five years old. I’m willing to bet that every man in this bar wants to be you, and every woman wants to—”

He lifted his eyebrows, and Mollie hesitated only slightly before she forced herself to finish the sentence. “Mate.”

Jackson burst out laughing. “You still do that?”

“Do what?”

“Talk about animal mating rituals when you get nervous.”

“I’m not nervous! Why would I be nervous?”

He was studying her. “You tell me.”

“Don’t be weird,” she muttered. “I’m just saying, you’ve hardly got one foot in the grave.”

“I don’t particularly care for cabbage either. And I don’t have any pets.”

She gave him a puzzled look. “What does that have to do with anything?”

He held her gaze for several moments. “Move in with me.”

Mollie choked on her champagne. “Sorry?”

He gave a rueful smile as he watched her dab at the champagne on her chin. “I figured I wasn’t the best company, but it’s that bad, huh?”

“Jackson, you can’t just go around asking strange women to move in with you.”

“Why not? You need a place to live. I have three extra bedrooms. And you’re hardly strange.”

“That’s true. We’re practically family,” she muttered.

“Practically. But not.”

Something in his tone had Mollie’s head snapping up. Something low and a little bit sexy.

They weren’t family. They weren’t related.

Jackson leaned forward, his gaze strangely intent. “Come on, Mollie. What do you have to lose?”

As she stared at the man she’d once harbored an unhealthy crush on—a crush she was no longer at all sure had dissipated—she realized that the answer to his question was everything.

She had everything to lose.





Chapter 4


She’d said no.

Jackson hooked a finger into the knot of his tie, tugging at it until the damn thing loosened, before flicking open the top button of his shirt.

Mollie had said no to living with him.

Jackson wandered to the bar in his living room and poured a finger of Scotch before going to stare out at the New York skyline.

Of course she’d said no. He’d been insane to ask. What did he think, that a woman he’d been avoiding for months—a woman who was related to his ex—was going to jump at the chance to be roommates?

He leaned his forehead against the cool glass. It was better this way anyway. If he ended up getting the coaching gig, he’d be gone in a couple of months. Plus he didn’t want company. Didn’t want to share his space.

But damn, he was lonely.

Jackson took a sip of his Scotch and was relishing the burn in his throat when his cell phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. Caller ID showed it was the doorman of his building.