"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.




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