Love Left Behind (8 page)

As we walked inside, I
noted that Jackson's building was a lot nicer than mine was, complete with a
doorman, plush carpeting and an elevator.

"This is a nice
building," I said after Jackson had greeted Sam, the doorman, and we
stepped inside the elevator. I watched Jackson push the button for the
sixteenth floor. "You must really be an amazing trainer."

Jackson smiled without
commenting as the elevator whisked us up silently to his floor. He looked
contemplative as he watched the floor numbers light up and I suddenly felt a
little awkward. Besides being an actor, part-time trainer and non-serial
killer, I didn't know much else about Jackson.

"Claire told me
you guys met in an acting class."

Jackson looked at me
and nodded. "Yeah, it was an awful class taught by some kook who believed
acting like animals helped improve our craft. I spent most of our classes
walking around clucking and flapping my arms."

"At least you know
you'll be a shoo-in for any barnyard animal roles."

Jackson laughed and
grabbed my hand as the elevator arrived on the sixteenth floor and the doors
opened.

Jackson unlocked the
door to his apartment and ushered me in, flicking on the lights and leading me
into the living room. Jackson's apartment made mine look like a shanty. The
living room was as large as my entire apartment with a balcony that led to a
fantastic view. Despite the size, the furnishings were sparse with one long
leather couch and a massive TV mounted on the wall.

"This place is
huge," I said. "And you have an amazing view." I didn't
understand how Jackson could afford such a nice apartment, but I didn't think
he would appreciate me demanding to know the details of his salary. Maybe he
came from money.

"Thanks," he
said, his voice muffled as I heard him rummaging in the kitchen. "Do you
want some wine?"

"I would love
some, thanks."

I walked over to the
sliding glass doors and looked outside, thrilled at all the lights twinkling
against the backdrop of the night sky.

"Here you
go."

I jumped, Jackson's
voice sounding closer than I expected since I hadn't heard him come up behind
me. I turned around and he handed me a wine glass.

"I hope sauvignon
blanc is okay," he said, lightly clinking his glass with mine.

"It's great,"
I said, taking a sip. "But I thought struggling actors were supposed to
drink Bud Light."

Jackson grinned.
"I only serve that when I
really
want to impress a girl."

I laughed as I took
another sip. I didn't know much about wine but the cool liquid was delicious
and crisp against my tongue.

"So where's this
dinner I keep hearing about?"

"Ah," Jackson
said, raising an eyebrow. "You're in for a treat. On today's menu we'll be
serving chicken marsala with pasta."

I looked at Jackson
skeptically. "You're really going to cook?"

Jackson shook his head
in mock disappointment. "Your doubt in my skills pains me."

"Okay," I
said with a smile. "I believe you. I'm waiting to be amazed."

Jackson frowned.
"Well, you need to be my sous chef."

"Hey, I never said
I
was going to do any cooking,"
I protested. "I thought you wanted to impress me with your culinary
skills."

Jackson smiled sweetly.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you that food tastes better when you cook
together?"

I felt a hollow pang at
Jackson's words. It reminded me of the countless nights Sean and I had cooked
dinner together. I missed the easy intimacy of working together without having
to say a word.

Jackson looked at me
thoughtfully. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I
said mustering a smile. I needed to concentrate on having a fling, not
wallowing in sentimental memories. "I'm ready to chop whatever you throw
at me."

Jackson paused for a
beat, studying me. He then seemed to accept my answer and grabbed my hand,
guiding me to the kitchen. I was starting to get used to being dragged places
with Jackson's warm hand in mine.

Jackson started pulling
ingredients out of the refrigerator along with a cutting board, a frying pan
and a large pot.

"You're in charge
of cutting mushrooms," he said, placing the cutting board and knife in
front of me as well as a carton of mushrooms.

"I think I can
handle that," I replied, setting my wine glass on the counter and picking
up the mushrooms. "I should wash these first."

Jackson turned the
burner on under the pot he had filled with water and then pulled out chicken
breasts that were already pounded thin. "I already washed them
earlier."

I bit my lip as I
looked at the ingredients on the counter. A lot of it had already been prepped.
The fact that Jackson cared enough to put thought and effort into this dinner
touched me. I felt an insidious warmth in my chest and I reminded myself that
this was a fling. The last thing I needed was to get too attached. Besides, I
reminded myself of what Claire had told me. As good of a guy as Jackson was, he
wasn't someone who took relationships seriously. I needed to take that to heart
if I wanted to prevent myself from getting hurt.

I turned my attention
to chopping mushrooms, stopping to take a sip of wine every so often. I needed
the courage it gave me if what I thought was going to happen tonight actually
happened.

Jackson looked up from
coating the chicken in a flour mixture. "I see that you know your way
around a knife. Do you like to cook?"

"Only when I feel
like it. It's such a hassle after a long day at work though. Sometimes it's
just easier to get takeout and call it a day. Besides, I only know how to make
a few things."

Jackson shook his head
and made a tsking sound. "You'll change your tune after you taste my
chicken marsala."

"Oh, I'm fine with
you
doing the cooking," I said
generously. "You can cook for me any day."

"I'll remember
that," Jackson replied, grinning and turning back to his chicken.
"How do you like living in New York so far?"

"Still good. I
like my job even though it's only been a few days."

Jackson added salt to
the boiling water and dropped the linguine in the pot.

"That's great. Do
you like it better than your old job in D.C.?"

I thought about it
before answering. "Well, it's different. I worked for a much smaller
company in D.C., but I had a lot more responsibility. At Mass, I just got my
foot in the door as an assistant and I'm trying to wrangle my way further in.
Fortunately, my boss seems to want me to excel and is giving me a chance with
more responsibilities."

I was done chopping the
mushrooms and watched Jackson drizzle olive oil in a saucepan. He looked up at
me and smiled. "I have no doubt that you'll be promoted in no time."

I smiled at his
compliment but raised an eyebrow. "How do you know? You just met me. I
could be one of the laziest people you've ever met."

"I'm good at
reading people, and I can tell you know how to get what you want. See how you
had me waiting around for you tonight, hoping you'd show up?"

I laughed.
"Thanks, I guess." I studied Jackson over the rim of my wine glass as
he deftly worked in the kitchen. "What about you? What made you want to be
an actor?"

"Hmm, good
question." Jackson looked up from the saucepan and shrugged. "I'm not
really sure. After college, I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. I
sort of just fell into acting. A buddy of mine was a theater major and I
happened to go along with him to one of his auditions. The rest is
history."

Jackson added cream to
the saucepan along with the mushrooms.

"Hey, watch the
cream!" I exclaimed, setting my glass on the counter. "I thought you
were supposed to be all about health and nutrition. You're a trainer, after
all."

"That's why you
work out. So you can eat junk." Jackson glanced at me with a smile.
"Besides, you're already perfect the way you are."

I picked up my wine
glass again to take a sip to have something to do. Jackson's compliment
flummoxed me and I didn't know what to say. It wasn't every day I had a perfect
male specimen telling me that
I
was
perfect. Unfortunately, when I tipped the glass back the only thing I sipped
was air.

Jackson laughed loudly.
"I think someone needs more wine."

He grabbed the bottle
from the refrigerator and filled my glass.

"Thanks," I
said weakly, feeling foolish. I hadn't realized I had drunk my glass of wine so
quickly. I really needed to watch how much I drank so that I didn't get too
tipsy, but it was too tempting to continue drinking. Liquid courage.

Jackson drained the
pasta and scooped some into two plates. He placed a chicken breast on top of
each plate and spooned the sauce over it.

"Dinner is
served."

"It looks and
smells amazing," I said as I followed Jackson into the dining room,
picking up his wineglass and setting it on the table along with mine.

After sitting down, I
twirled the linguine onto my fork along with a piece of chicken and took a
large bite.

"Oh my God,"
I said after I was done chewing. "I apologize for any aspersions I may
have cast on your cooking ability. This is amazing."

Jackson looked pleased
at my compliment, his green eyes sparkling with enjoyment as he watched me eat.
"I'm glad you like it."

I paused mid-way of my
second bite and looked at Jackson, who was just sitting there watching me.
"Aren't you eating?"

Jackson picked up his
fork and dug into his own plate. "I was just enjoying watching you
eat."

"So you just fell
into acting," I said, looking for conversation territory that wouldn't
make my stomach do somersaults. Of course, no somersault could stop me from
eating the delicious chicken. I wondered if I should eat more daintily but it
was hard for me not to eat with gusto, especially since the food was so
delicious.

"Yup,"
Jackson replied as he began eating. "And once I started, it just felt
natural. I started getting more and more bit parts, I picked up an agent along
the way, and I realized how much I enjoyed it."

"And now you're in
a play with Claire."

"It's playing in a
tiny theater in the Lower East Side but it's interesting and I like the part.
It's called
Choosing Matthew."
Jackson
winked. "Of course, I play Matthew."

"Of course,"
I said with a laugh.

"Are you coming to
see it this week?"

"I'm not sure. I
have to see what my work schedule is like." What I really meant was I had
to see how things went between us tonight. I didn't want to commit to something
that would make us both feel awkward if tonight didn't work out.

"If you can't come
Friday night, there's always Saturday night. You can't be working on a
Saturday."

I shrugged. "I'm
not sure. My boss is pretty demanding, even though I like her. I'll see."

"Just let me know.
I'll make sure to get you a seat up front." Jackson frowned before
continuing. “Technically I guess you would be Claire's guest."

"I don't
know," I replied noncommittally. "I told her I'd come see the show
some time, but it wasn't anything definite."

"Great,"
Jackson said, beaming. "Then you'll be my date."

"Jackson," I
said, unable to suppress a laugh. "I'll definitely try to come. I just
don't want to make a promise I can't keep."

Jackson nodded but I
could see the wheels in his head already turning. I told myself that just
because this was a fling didn't mean that it couldn't be an extended fling.
This could be my summer-long fling.

What a way to spend my
first summer in New York.

"So what was it
like growing up in Maryland?"

"It was good. Just
your normal suburban upbringing. What about you? Where are you from?"

"I grew up right
outside of the city in Westchester."

"Do you have any
brothers or sisters?"

Jackson leaned back,
watching me eat. It made me feel self-conscious and I made an effort to eat in
a more ladylike manner.

"I have a younger
brother, Ryan. He's twenty-three and living down in Miami. Finding himself, I
guess."

"I've always
wanted to go to Miami. It seems like such a gorgeous place with the white
beaches. What's the age difference between you two?"

Jackson smiled faintly
as he watched me. My self-consciousness kicked into high gear.

"I'm four years
older."

"So that makes you
twenty-seven, right?"

Jackson just nodded and
I put down my fork. "Why are you just watching me eat?"

Jackson smiled even
wider. "Am I making you nervous again?"

"No," I lied.
"It's just kind of creepy."

Jackson laughed.
"Sorry. It's just satisfying to see you enjoying your food so much."

"That's it,"
I groaned. "I'm never eating in front of you again."

Jackson picked up his
fork and resumed eating. "Sorry. I promise not to creep you out anymore by
watching you eat."

I watched Jackson eat
for a few beats and then picked up my own fork. Jackson glanced up at me and
grinned when he saw me eating again, but I just rolled my eyes.

"What about you?
Do you have any siblings?"

I shook my head.
“Growing up, I always wanted a sister, but it was just me. I guess the good
thing was I never had to share my toys."

I looked down at my
clean plate and smiled ruefully. "There goes my workout."

Jackson gave me a lazy
grin. "I can think of other ways to work up a sweat."

I burst out laughing.
"Wow, you're really relentless."

He winked. "It's
part of my charm."

Jackson stood up and
walked over to me, pulling me up and drawing me into the living room. He
flicked on a switch on his sound system and the room instantly filled with the
throaty voice of Billie Holiday. He drew me in close, resting his hands on my
waist.