Want Ad Wedding

by Neesa Hart

  He set the napkin holder down. “What kind of things?”

  “Things about being involved, and what that means. I think we have different definitions.”

  “Ah.” His tone was noncommittal.

  Molly waited, but Sam didn’t elaborate. Patience, she could hear Sister Mary Claire explaining, was a godly virtue. “I was wondering exactly what you think is entailed in getting involved with me,” she pressed. “I mean, besides the sex part. Which I have to say you were making a fairly obvious priority before Tuesday.”

  His dark eyebrows drew down, and she practically heard the gears in his head turning. “Is this going to be a gender thing?”

  Sister Mary Claire with her lectures on patience and long suffering, had never encountered a man like Sam. “A gender thing?”

  “I’ve found that when women ask questions I don’t understand—particularly when they already seem to know the answers to those questions—it’s usually because the typical male response—that would be mine—isn’t going to live up to the typical female expectation—that would be yours. So before I get myself into a hell of a lot of trouble, I figured I’d just ask. That way I’ll find out what you want me to say and save us both a lot of grief.”

  The blunt answer completely defused her irritation. He looked so impossibly serious, Molly laughed out loud. “Geez, Sam, are you this blunt when you negotiate media mergers?”

  “Media mergers are a piece of cake compared to this. Does this mean we’re changing the subject?”

  “Not a chance.”

  He took a long sip of his coffee as if seeking fortification. He set his mug on the table with careful precision. “Look, Molly, before we start this, I think you need to know that I’m not any good at it.”

  “Good at what?”

  “Personal conversations.”

  “You do plenty well at arguing with me,” she said. “You’ve been doing it for six weeks.”

  “That’s arguing. It’s different.”

  “Why?”

  “Arguing is direct and to the point. This requires patience, and I don’t have it. The last woman I dated almost went berserk trying to get me to talk about my feelings. I do things, I don’t talk about them.”

  “I see.”

  His gaze narrowed. “That sounds suspicious.”

  “No. Not really. I’m just trying to figure you out.”

  “What’s to figure?”

  “You keep surprising me, Sam.”

  “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

  “I’m not sure,” she confessed. “Jury’s still out on that.”

  “And in the interim?”

  “I think we need to agree on some rules.”

  He looked a little apprehensive. “Rules?”

  “Yes, rules. Since you’ve been gone, I’ve had some time to think over what you said on Monday, and I get the feeling that you expect to have a pretty big influence in my life for the next few weeks.” Lord, she thought, did she sound as much like a prude as she thought? How did he manage to do this to her?

  “You could say that.”

  “When you said that we weren’t merely going to pretend to be involved—” she hesitated. “I have to tell you, I thought you meant a little more than convenient sex.”

  “We haven’t had convenient sex. We haven’t even had inconvenient sex.”

  “We would have on Monday night if I’d been willing.”

  “Granted.”

  “And then Tuesday, you left town and I haven’t heard from you since. Sorry, Sam, that’s not what I think of when I picture a mutually satisfying relationship.”

  He had the grace to wince. “I was trying to get everything done so I could get back here for today.”

  “You had time to call everyone else on staff,” she pointed out. “I’m not pouting, Sam, I’m just a little confused. I need to know what the ground rules are.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “Fair enough. I’ve handled this badly.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “I wouldn’t say—”

  He shook his head, stopping her objection. “No. It’s true. Hell, my sister’s been on my case all week about it.”

  “You’ve been with your sister?”

  “I’ll get to that in a minute.” He drew a weary breath. “I’ve wanted you a long time, Molly. I told you that on Monday. I was glad to find out the attraction is mutual.”

  “I think it was the day I called you an arrogant pigheaded jerk that tipped you off.”

  The corner of his mouth tilted into a smile. “No. It was the way you looked at my legs after you said it.”

  “I hate to break this to you, Sam, but I’ve never even noticed your legs.” She idly rubbed at a dent in the wood table with the pad of her thumb. “But that doesn’t necessarily mean anything,” she continued. “I’m not like you, Sam.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Any one of my sisters will tell you, I might fall fast and hard into relationships, but I take them seriously.”

  “And you think I’m not serious?”

  “I think that I would never use a relationship to further my agenda in this town.”

  “Is that the impression I gave you?”

  She nodded. “Isn’t that your plan?”

  “Actually,” he said, “you might be surprised to learn that my only concern here is for Carl and the future of the Sentinel. If the people in Payne don’t particularly like me—” he shrugged his broad shoulders “—I’m not sure I care.”

  “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

  “Then what do you mean?” he asked. “You’ve never had trouble telling me what you think.”

  But her heart had never been involved, either. “All I’m saying is that we’re going to have to face a lot of people today. I thought—after Monday, I thought…” Her words trailed off.

  Sam watched her with narrowed eyes. “Go on,” he prompted.

  She plunged in. “I didn’t think it would bother me to stand up in front of this town and say, ‘here’s Sam, and I’m with him.”’

  “But now it does?”

  “When you feel like it’s okay to leave town for a week and not even tell me where you are, I feel like I’m lying to people I really care about.”

  “Because they’re going to think we have a relationship that’s different from the one you think we have?” he guessed.

  She nodded. “Obviously, you’re the kind of man who can tolerate a casual relationship.” She paused. “And I’m not the kind of woman who even has casual relationships.”

  Sam seemed to consider that. “I didn’t think you were,” he said finally.

  She found courage in that and forged ahead. “And that’s why I think we need some rules.”

  “So you said.”

  “I won’t be able to stand it if I don’t know when you’re pretending and when you’re not. It’ll drive me crazy.”

  “And to avoid that, you want rules.”

  “Yes.” She was beginning to warm to the topic. Sam hadn’t laughed at her, nor had he refused to take her seriously. Molly thought this was a very good sign.

  Sam steepled his fingers beneath his chin and regarded her with a steady look. “So were you thinking about who pays for dates and who drives when we’re going somewhere together?”

  She frowned. Maybe this wasn’t going as well as she’d hoped. “No.”

  “And I’m guessing you like the toilet paper to roll off the top?” he continued. “That’s okay. I can live with that.”

  Wearily, she looked at him. “No.”

  “No? Really? I had you pegged for an over-the-topper.”

  “Sam—”

  “But off the bottom’s fine with me, though I confess I don’t usually pay much attention. I’ll try to remember.”

  Molly’s hands tightened on the edge of the table. “Will you please shut up?”

  He threw her an irreverent grin. “Sorry. Sometimes I can’t resist the urge to goad you.”

 
“I’ve noticed that.” She frowned at him. “And I’m sorry if this seems ridiculous to you. I just haven’t mastered your level of disdain for other people’s feelings.”

  That sobered him. “I’m not making fun of you,” he assured her.

  “You could have fooled me.”

  “Hell, Molly, I told you I’d screw this up. I’m tired and I’ve had a rough week.”

  She reached for her patience. “Will you just hear me out, please?”

  “Yes,” he agreed readily. “I’m listening.”

  “All I’m trying to say is that I don’t want to feel like I’m lying to people. I think it’ll be best for both of us if you realize that just because I’ve agreed to spend time with you—no matter what the reasons—it doesn’t mean that I’m giving you any personal liberties. I’ve decided that wouldn’t be wise.”

  “No personal liberties. Got it.”

  “Thank you for understanding.”

  He waited several long seconds. “Are you going to explain what that means?”

  Molly frowned. “You know what I mean.”

  “Would this be a bad time for me to say that I have no idea what you’re talking about?”

  “You’re going to make me say this, aren’t you?”

  “I hate to break it to you, but I’m sort of in the dark here. If you’ve got some invisible line you don’t want me to cross, you’d better spell it out.”

  Her patience ran out. “I don’t want you to think that just because you’re going to be with me a lot, that you have any rights to me.”

  He stilled immediately. As if entering the eye of a hurricane, she felt an ominous calm settle in the room.

  “Molly.” He leaned forward so his face was level with hers. “Are you trying to tell me that you don’t want to have a physical relationship with me?”

  She fought the urge to squirm. “Yes.”

  “There’s something between us, Molly. I thought I showed you that on Monday.”

  “You did.”

  “And you think you can fight it.”

  “I think it would be wise. Obviously, you’re not planning to stay in Payne for long. If we get physically involved—”

  “How do you know what I’m planning to do?” he challenged.

  “Your life is somewhere else. Mine is here. Whatever’s between us is temporary.”

  “And you’re not willing to explore the possibilities, are you?” He frowned at her. “What if I tell you that I don’t think we’re going to be able to resist? I think there’s a fire waiting to ignite. All it needs is one spark to start a conflagration.”

  “I think that if we both take steps to prevent it, we’ll be fine. We’re reasonable adults. I’ve admitted that I find you attractive. You’ve said you find me attractive. It’s inevitable that our proximity will have some effect.”

  “Some effect?”

  She couldn’t decide if he sounded irritated or amused. “All I’m saying is that I don’t see any reason at all why we can’t simply agree to be friends and not let this situation go to our heads.”

  He studied her with a disarming stare. Usually, his mind traveled so fast, she found it difficult to follow his train of thought. Occasionally, however, he’d latch on to something with an intensity that practically took her breath away. “And you think that if I agree not to touch you, that whatever is going on between us will go away? Is that it?”

  Relieved, she nodded. “Yes.”

  He pursed his lips in thought, then shifted to lever himself out of his chair. Placing one hand on either arm of the chair, he leaned forward so his face was level with hers. His breath fanned warm against her cheek. “Sam—”

  “It won’t work,” he told her softly.

  “I think—”

  “It won’t work,” he told her again.

  “Sam—”

  “You want to know why?”

  Not really, Molly thought grimly. She already knew why. She already knew that Sam made her pulse beat faster. She already knew that she felt shivers up and down her spine when he spoke in that certain tone. “I know why,” she admitted.

  Sam’s lips slanted into that devil-take-it grin. “Good.” He tipped his head closer.

  “Crud,” Molly muttered. “This is a bad idea,” she told him.

  He leaned forward so his lips were a fraction of an inch from hers. “Bet I can get you to change your mind about that,” he whispered.

  “No—”

  “Sure I can.” Sam wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. “Watch me.” He closed the final distance and covered her mouth with his.

  The kiss was simultaneously gentle and demanding, soft and seductive. Sam’s lips glided over hers, and Molly felt herself melting into the overstuffed chair. She moaned slightly when his tongue traced the crease of her lips. Sam lifted one hand and gently touched the curve of her throat. She gasped in surprise. He took full advantage and swept his tongue inside her open mouth.

  She felt warm and weightless, dizzy and desirable, as if she were floating on a warm cloud of sensation. Molly slipped one hand around his neck to touch the warm skin of his nape.

  With a soft groan, Sam raised his head. “Molly, you want to explain to me how I’m supposed to keep from touching you?”

  “I just don’t want us to get into a situation where either of us is confused about what’s going on. Where we don’t know the line between truth and fiction.”

  Sam appeared to consider that. “I’ll tell you what, Molly. I’ll make you a deal.”

  “A deal?”

  “Yep. I’ll agree not to touch you again until you ask me.”

  She searched his gaze again, but found no hint of guile. He looked utterly sincere. “What makes you think I’ll ask?”

  “Because I know you feel the same electricity I do when we’re together. You just haven’t surrendered to it yet, as I have. When you do, you won’t be able to resist.”

  “What do I have to agree to?”

  “Not to ask unless you’re absolutely sure you’re ready for me. I won’t wait for a second invitation.”

  Molly had the feeling this was a losing bet, but at the moment, it seemed like a lifeline. Temporary, she reminded herself. Sam’s stay in Payne was temporary. She didn’t have to resist him for long—just until he left. Then her life could get back to normal. And lonely, a quiet voice insisted in her head. Molly dismissed the voice and clenched her hands on both arms of the chair. She could do this. She had to do this.

  Her honor demanded that she keep her bargain with Sam and prevent him from any further embarrassment about the personal ad. He’d just offered her a way to do that and still keep her heart intact. Molly nodded slowly. “All right. It’s a deal.”

  Sam’s grin was suspiciously triumphant. “Great.” He moved away from her chair. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to grab my bag out of the car and take a quick shower. I’ll clean up and we can leave from here.”

  That’s just what she needed, she thought grimly. She had enough trouble keeping her mind off Sam without picturing him in her shower. “Um, sure.”

  “Great.” He winked at her. “I’m in a hurry to see the ducks.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Go!” Molly leaned over the side of the fence and encouraged the scraggly duck she’d chosen from the pen. “You can do it,” she called. “Dig, dig, dig, dig, dig.”

  Sam shot her an amused look and took a sip of his coffee. The brisk October air had tinted her cheeks red, and the breeze played havoc with her hair. She wore faded jeans and a Stamford University sweatshirt. Her thick hair, clasped in a loose ponytail at the nape, made his fingers itch to free it. In bed in his Boston apartment he’d found himself wondering how Molly would look sprawled against dark sheets, her hair mussed and spread across his pillows.

  Molly, he was learning, did everything with reckless abandon. If he’d doubted it, the harrowing ride to the fair grounds that morning had confirmed it.

  Molly had wanted to drive. Sam dec
ided it would give him a chance to listen to her car on the road and see if he could identify the source and cause of the orange Beetle’s horrific exhaust leak. As soon as she coasted through the first stop sign, he recognized his mistake. Molly drove with the same recklessness she used to argue with him in editorial meetings. As far as he could tell, there was a logic to it somewhere, but it defied description and kept him on the edge of his seat.

  He’d forced himself not to cringe as she darted between cars and sneaked through yellow lights. Payne had only four traffic lights, and its citizens, he’d observed, went to extraordinary lengths to avoid them.

  Now, he knew why.

  Word had to be out that, at any moment, Molly might come storming through an intersection in her dilapidated car. Fortunately they could always see her coming—or at least smell the exhaust. Tomorrow, he promised himself, he would insist that he look at her car.

  If I live that long, he thought with a grimace as her tires squealed around another curve. To take his mind off the certainty of impending collision, he concentrated on the way her long fingers gripped the steering wheel, and how the smooth curves of her face were partially shielded by her dark sunglasses. Then he asked her about new developments in her research into Cobell’s transportation project. She talked while she drove, darting, as usual, from one idea to the next. He enjoyed the vibrant thrum of her voice.

  Occasionally, a hint of an Irish accent would cradle a word with a rolled r. Like a purr. He wondered if he could get her to purr like that by whispering something forbidden in her ear.

  He reveled in watching her now as she cheered and encouraged the ducks. Monday night he’d proven that he could make Molly want him. What he wasn’t sure of was whether or not she’d get there on her own, without an added push from him. It had never mattered to him before whether a woman desired him, but with Molly, things were different.

  Everything was different.

  Maybe it was the pressure of last week, or perhaps the simplicity of life in Payne, Massachusetts, that was having this effect on him. For reasons he couldn’t begin to define, he needed to know that Molly wanted him. Monday, she’d been trapped by her own impulsiveness. She’d taken his offer because her sense of honor had demanded it. He was absolutely certain of that.