The Kiss Before Midnight

by Sophie Pembroke

  They’d have one stolen night together, and nobody else ever needed to know. Especially not her family. Hell, it wasn’t like she’d told anyone about last New Year, was it? So he had to know he could trust her to keep their secret.

  All she needed was one night. And Jake, from what Tim had told her about their university days, and what she’d guessed from his revolving door of sleek brunettes in the past, was the king of one-night stands.

  Dipping the ladle into the pan of mulled wine, Molly poured a healthy portion into one of the glass mugs her dad always brought out on the first day of December. Then she added a little more.

  “That for me?” Tim leant a little too heavily against the kitchen counter as he asked, so Molly shook her head.

  “I don’t think anyone can handle Dad’s mulled wine after a night on cinnamon vodka in the George and Dragon,” she told him.

  “Ha!” Tim helped himself to a mug, and held a hand out for the ladle.

  Molly rolled her eyes and handed it over. “It’s your hangover.”

  “I’m a big boy. I can handle it.” He eyed her over the pan of spiced wine. “And speaking of not taking on more than you can handle—”

  “Which we weren’t,” Molly pointed out. She had a very bad feeling about where this conversation was going.

  “About Jake.” Tim didn’t look drunk anymore. Molly knew that just made him more dangerous.

  “Also not what we were talking about.”

  “It is now.” Pausing to take a sip of his mulled wine, Tim raised his eyebrows at her expectantly.

  He was waiting for her to break. She knew that technique from years of being the youngest. He thought all he needed to do was act like he knew something already and she’d give up all her secrets.

  It was a shame for him that she’d grown up.

  “Actually,” Molly said, schooling her face into a concerned expression. “I did want to talk to you about Jake, in fact.”

  Tim’s jaw tightened. “Look, Moll. Jake’s a good bloke. But—”

  “I know he is,” Molly interrupted quickly. The last thing she needed was Tim warning Jake away from her because he’d got the, well, right idea.

  “That’s why it’s so sad he still doesn’t feel at home here, don’t you think?”

  “He…” Tim blinked. “What?”

  “Didn’t you see him? He was hanging back when we arrived, didn’t hug Mum properly… we’re the only family he’s got, and he still doesn’t really feel at home here. It’s sad.” Time to pull out the puppy dog eyes. “You should talk to him. Make him understand that we really do want him to be here.”

  “I should… yeah, no. That’s not going to happen.” Tim shook his head emphatically.

  “Then maybe I should,” Molly said, trying to sound virtuous. “I mean, it is Christmas. Goodwill to all men and so on.”

  “Just how much ‘goodwill’ are you intending on giving him? That’s what I’m worried about.” Damn. Maybe her brother wasn’t quite as drunk as she’d assumed, if he could still leap to these conclusions on minimal evidence. Well, minimal evidence and some ridiculously slinky lingerie.

  “Look, Jake’s like a brother to me, right?” Molly said, eyes wide and hopefully innocent looking.

  “You’re much nicer to him than you are to me,” Tim pointed out.

  “I’m nicer to Great Aunt Mabel than I am to you, and God knows she doesn’t deserve it.” Molly sighed, and changed the subject, hoping Tim wouldn’t notice. “Is it our turn to have her this year, by the way?”

  “Mad Mabel? No, the cousins have her for the festivities. She’ll be here for New Year, though. She hasn’t gotten over having to miss last year’s and not meeting The American.”

  “Lucas,” Molly corrected automatically, but her mind was already filling with memories from last New Year’s Eve. It was as if they just hovered around the edges of her mind, all the time, just waiting for the slightest reason to flood back and consume her. Hearing the song that had been playing downstairs when Jake kissed her, even if she was standing in the middle of a crowded supermarket, still made her feel like she was back in his arms. The smell of cinnamon had been playing havoc with her brain for weeks. And as for actually seeing him again… God, Jenna was right. She really needed to get him out of her system if she ever wanted to be able to think about another man the same way.

  But first, she needed her brother to stop looking at her with such suspicion.

  “I’m going to go take my bag up to my room,” she said, taking one last glug of mulled wine. Mmm, cinnamon…

  Tim grabbed her arm as she put her glass down. “Wait, Moll. Listen. About Jake…”

  “Tim, you really don’t need to worry—”

  “But I do. Because you’re my little sister. And Jake…” Tim took a deep breath. “Look, he’s my best friend. And I don’t know what you two were talking about when I banged on the car window, and I’m going to pretend I never saw the… stuff that fell out of your suitcase. But just in case you were getting any ideas – ideas that I absolutely do not want to know about, by the way. Jake’s a good guy. The best friend you could want. He’s a part of this family. But he is one hundred per cent not the guy for you. Okay?”

  When was the last time she saw her brother looking so serious? Gran’s funeral, maybe? Either way, he meant what he said – which made Molly wonder how much of the drunkenness outside the pub had been an act, a trick to pretend he hadn’t noticed the intense way she and Jake were staring into each other’s eyes.

  With a deep breath, Molly placed her hand over her brother’s, looked him in the eye, and lied.

  “Tim. Jake is like a brother to me. Trust me, he’d probably be as disturbed by this conversation as I am. There’s absolutely nothing between us. Okay?”

  “Okay.” But Tim’s gaze never left hers, as though he was searching for a chink in her lie. Then he sighed, and stepped back. “He’s a good bloke, Moll, don’t get me wrong. But he’s not right for you. Hell, for a start, you don’t know where he’s been, if you know what I mean.” Oh, she knew. Jake’s revolving door of women was legendary. And now probably wasn’t the time to mention to Tim that one of the places Jake had been was up her shirt.

  Tim sighed. “He’s just not good enough for you,” he said, the words heavy, and Molly realised she actually had to answer him. More than that, she needed to reassure him.

  “Not something you need to worry about.” She shifted uncomfortably, from one foot to the other. She should argue, should tell Tim he was wrong, she should defend Jake. But she couldn’t, because then he’d know for sure. “Jake and me? It’s the most ridiculous idea I’ve heard all year.”

  She grinned up at him, one last determined lie, and kept her smile in place through sheer force of will as she spotted Jake, standing in the doorway behind Tim, a plate of mince pies in his hands. His face was rigid, his mouth fixed in a straight line, his eyebrows low. Oh God. How long had he been there? How much had he heard?

  And worst, how much did he hate her right now?

  Chapter 6

  “He’s just not good enough for you.”

  The words made Jake slam to a halt outside the kitchen, almost losing a mince pie or two from the plate he was carrying in the process. They shouldn’t, though. It wasn’t as if they weren’t expected.

  Hell, if he had a little sister, he wouldn’t let a guy like himself date her – especially not one five years older. And if Molly brought home some London loser who gave even a hint of being like him – or Tim, for that matter – Jake would intimidate the guy all the way back down south in a heartbeat.

  Molly deserved the best – someone without baggage, or issues, or an unfortunate history with women.

  And she clearly thought so too, from her response – or else, she was busy putting her brother off the trail. In which case, what the hell did she imagine would happen if they did get together? Tim would be mad as hell with him for daring to touch her, and furious with Molly for lying to him. The worst
of both worlds.

  Staring down at the mince pies, their little pastry holly leaves promising the perfect Christmas that everyone knew was impossible in reality, Jake mentally cursed Philippa Mackenzie and her powers of persuasion that had convinced him to stay with them for the holidays. If he’d had any sense, any will power, any brains, he’d have insisted on staying at home and just driven over to the Mackenzie house for Christmas Day itself, just like he’d done every other year.

  Instead, he’d let Philippa talk him into an extended stay, imprisoning himself in the house with the one woman he couldn’t touch, however much she seemed to want him to, and regardless of how long he’d fantasised about it. Even better, he’d got to hear his best friend hold forth on why he was a lousy human.

  Merry Christmas, Jake.

  He glanced up again and saw that Molly had spotted him. Too late to pretend he wasn’t there, or even that he hadn’t heard anything. From her horrified expression, she knew exactly what he’d heard.

  “Mince pie, anyone?” Jake held up the plate, a little icing sugar cascading over the side. “Your mum thought you might need it to help soak up the mulled wine.”

  “Good plan, man.” Tim grinned as he grabbed a pie from the plate, sending crumbs flying as he bit into the pastry. He, at least, didn’t seem to realise how long Jake had been standing behind him. That was something, Jake supposed. Although he wasn’t sure what, exactly.

  God, what a mess.

  “What on earth are you three still doing in here?” Philippa appeared behind him, and he almost bit his tongue trying not to jump. “I sent Jake in here ages ago to fetch you through!”

  Tim paused halfway through biting into the remains of his mince pie, his gaze flying to Jake’s. Jake stared back blankly, not willing to give anything away – especially in front of Tim’s mother and sister. His best friend’s thoughts on his history with women wasn’t exactly a surprise, and they’d deal with it later – if they had to at all. ‘Dealing with it’ would probably include an excess of vodka and not actually mentioning it, which was absolutely fine with Jake, but probably best done away from the Mackenzie family home.

  In fact, Jake almost looked forward to it. It sounded… normal. And a hell of a lot less terrifying than nine days resisting the charms of Molly Mackenzie.

  “We’re just coming through now, Mum.” Molly gave Philippa a cheery smile that looked utterly false to Jake, then turned to ladle another spoonful of mulled wine into her glass. Nice to see that they were all dealing with the tensions of the holiday season in time tested, adult style – with alcohol and denial.

  If only he could remember where Glen Mackenzie hid the good whiskey…

  “Come on then!” Philippa ushered them all along, and Jake found himself carrying the stupid plate of mince pies back through to the lounge where he’d started. Halfway through the door, Philippa squeaked, “Oh!” and piled a few extra pies onto the plate from a tin on the edge of the counter.

  Perfect. Because if Jake had to endure a family evening with the Mackenzies tonight, he was going to need all the stodge he could get to soak up the required quantity of alcohol.

  As if reading his mind, Tim called back, “Bring some more mulled wine, Moll?” and she nodded.

  At least they were all on the same page in one area – even if they were miles apart in everything else right now.

  The lounge sparkled with the twinkle of fairy lights, strung across the fireplace, and wrapped around the otherwise bare tree.

  “Where are the decorations?” Molly frowned as she sat down on the end of the sofa closest to the tree. Jake waited until she was settled before he chose his own seat – on the opposite sofa, as far away from her as possible. It meant he was uncomfortably close to the fake flames leaping in the electric fire, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

  “Oh, I didn’t want to decorate the tree without any of you here to help me,” Philippa said, sitting beside him. “Too depressing. I thought the five of you could do it tomorrow. We’ll put some Christmas music on, eat mince pies, it’ll be fun.”

  “Five?” Jake asked, frowning. Surely she wasn’t counting him in this.

  “Of course! You and Tim and Molly and Dory and Lucas. If they ever get here.” Her gaze flashed nervously to the clock on the mantelpiece. Jake knew she hated it when Glen was out late in the cab, especially in bad weather.

  “Have you heard anything from Dad?” Molly asked, obviously following the same train of thought.

  Philippa shook her head. “Not for a while. He texted to say he was at the airport and their flight was delayed. Nothing since. He’s probably in the coffee shop with a good book, knowing him.”

  “He’ll call before he leaves, I’m sure,” Jake said. Philippa took his hand absently and patted it, almost as if he were one of her own children.

  Jake pulled it back before the moment could go on too long.

  “You’re right,” Philippa said. “And I know that Dory won’t miss the chance to decorate the tree, so I’m sure she’ll be here soon enough, snow or no snow.”

  Jake had to admit, that did sound like Dory. And if she and Lucas were there, they definitely wouldn’t need him. “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to beg off,” he said, trying to sound regretful. “I have an important client meeting tomorrow.”

  “On Christmas Eve?” Philippa sounded scandalized at the very idea of anyone working so close to the big day.

  “Afraid so. But I’m sure the others will do a great job.”

  “Nonsense,” Philippa said in what even Jake recognised as her ‘don’t argue with me’ voice. “What time is your meeting?”

  “Uh, eleven?”

  She nodded. “Perfect. You can all get up early and decorate the tree before you leave.”

  Tim groaned, but across the room Molly had a small smile on her face, as though she was pleased he would be forced to endure every aspect of a Mackenzie family Christmas. Or was it just her incredibly tempting company she wanted to torment him with, knowing he couldn’t do a damn thing about it?

  Little tease. Just the thought made his mouth dry. He needed to get out of here, quick. Mulled wine really wasn’t cutting it anymore.

  “Well, if we’re having an early start, I’d better get to bed.” Jake got to his feet, ignoring the way Molly’s eyes widened with dismay. “Thank you for the mince pies, Philippa, and I hope Glen is home soon. If you’ll excuse me? I assume Tim and I are in the attic as usual…?”

  Philippa bounced up from her seat, the perfect hostess, her short, greying auburn curls settling around her head again like a halo. “Of course. You must all be tired! Well, apart from Tim.” She looked critically at her middle child. “But I suspect bed might be good for you, too. Go on, all of you. Off to bed. Big day tomorrow!” She shooed them towards the door with her hands, and Jake couldn’t help but remember being eleven years old and being chased out of Mrs Mackenzie’s kitchen when he and Tim were trying to steal biscuits.

  Tim slung an arm around Jake’s shoulder, almost like an apology. “Come on, then. We’ve been told.” He lowered his voice to a murmur. “Besides, I’ve got Dad’s second best whiskey hidden up there.”

  Jake faked a smile. Maybe that would take his mind off Molly in bed a floor below him, but he doubted it.

  Molly Mackenzie and her soft skin, her bright hair, and her bag full of silky lingerie had taken over his brain, and he was damned if he knew how to get her out of there.

  But he knew he had to try.

  -

  Molly lingered behind as the boys made their way up the stairs towards the attic room their dad had converted for Tim the minute he hit puberty. With two sisters sharing the room beside him, and a mother who didn’t much believe in knocking, he had declared that a teenage boy deserved some privacy.

  Molly had spent years wondering what Tim, Jake, and their other friends talked about or did up there in his private den, but she’d never wanted to sneak up there as much as she did tonight. Especially if
she could get Tim out of the way…

  “Your bed’s all made up too,” her mum said. “Go on. I’ll clear up down here.”

  “Are you sure?” Molly paused in the doorway. “I can wait up with you for Dad and Dory, if you like?”

  But her mum shook her head. “Who knows how long they’ll be. No, I’m going to make one last batch of mince pies, in case they’re hungry when they get in, and then I’m going to bed with an audio book. You go on up. Get some rest. You’re looking too pale.”

  “Okay.” Leaning over, Molly kissed her mum on the cheek and turned to climb the stairs. Sleep would be good. It had been a long day – a long six months, really.

  “It’s so good to have you home,” Mum said, wrapping her arms around her waist for a moment.”

  “It’s really, really good to be here.” Molly smiled. However crazy everything else was, at least home was always home. “Night, Mum.”

  Upstairs, Molly flipped on the light switch and looked around the bedroom she’d shared with Dory throughout their childhood, until her sister left for university. Small pink flowers still covered one wall, dotted with bare patches where the wallpaper had been torn away when removing posters or artwork, over the years. Now, just the twin beds with their rosebud covers remained, bedside tables between them, and two desks-cum-dressing tables against the far wall.

  Why had no one ever thought to change it? Dory hadn’t lived at home in years. Of course, once Molly had finished university and come home herself, she’d moved into the spare room, with its queen sized bed and non-floral decoration. It had made sense, as the only one of them still living at home at the time. Even once Tim had rebounded from his job in Edinburgh that summer, he’d just moved back up into the attic while waiting for the next big thing to come along.

  The little pink room she’d grown up in hadn’t been needed anymore. Until Dory came home with a surprise guest in the form of Lucas, last year, and Molly had been ousted back to the children’s zone.

  Molly flopped down onto the bed nearest the window, her case on the other bed, and stared up at the ceiling as if she could see through to where Jake was sleeping if she only looked hard enough.