‘He’s not engaged,’ Hannah said, and Molly thought, Please let the ground open up under me. Please let this be a nightmare.
‘He’s not?’ Angela was brought up short. She focused on Jackson. ‘You mean the woman in the newspaper is not your fiancée?’
He gave a wry smile-but he was watching Molly. What had Angela said? These two are made for each other… ‘Um…no.’
‘Thank heaven for that,’ Angela said bluntly. ‘Marry Molly.’
‘Angela!’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake…’ Jackson was half-laughing, half-exasperated, but Molly was no such thing. She was just plain appalled.
But Hannah was listening intently. ‘Do you think he should?’
‘Yes,’ Angie said promptly, and hugged her Guy close. ‘She should be as happy as I am.’
‘He’s never going to marry her if she wears funeral clothes,’ Hannah said, and Molly took a deep breath.
‘Excuse me!’
She was ignored. ‘She doesn’t usually wear black,’ Angela explained. ‘She usually looks gorgeous. Only her sister and brother-in-law were killed and she has to look after her little nephew-who’s a real sweetie, but she feels totally responsible. She and her fiancé were saving for a house, but when Molly said she had to look after Sam the creep told her the wedding was off. And he had the whole deposit in his name-which is why the first rule of buying a house is don’t trust anybody-and don’t ask me why Molly trusted the creep, but there it is, and now he’s got her money and she has nothing. And then…’ She took her first breath for about three minutes and it was a long one. ‘Along comes Jackson.’
‘Jackson,’ Hannah repeated faintly, and Angela pounced.
‘She’s nutty about him,’ Angela declared, and Molly felt herself sliding under the table. She held onto the edge and managed to stay upright, but it was a near thing. ‘And he kissed her.’
She’s nutty about him… Jackson turned to stare at Molly’s blenched white face. Put that on the backburner, his brain told him. Concentrate on practicalities. ‘How many people know that I kissed you?’ he demanded, and Hannah chortled and answered for her.
‘The entire restaurant, at least.’ It wasn’t an understatement. The whole restaurant had hushed to a deathly silence and Angela had the floor.
‘Anyway, it’s true.’ Angela flushed slightly and sounded defensive, but still she continued. ‘Molly came home after the weekend lit up like a Christmas candle, and it’s the nicest thing that’s happened to her since the loathsome Michael. And now there’s this stupid newspaper article.’ Her eyes narrowed on Jackson. ‘But you’re not engaged?’
‘No! And I don’t believe the paper did say I was engaged.’
‘Then this Cara-’
‘Is none of your business.’ Jackson closed his eyes for a brief respite and then he rose. With resolution. Things were getting entirely out of hand and he wanted time to think.
‘I need to go. Miss Copeland, if you’re not prepared to sell me the property-’
‘Oh, I am.’ Hannah’s eyes were alight with laughter. ‘But not just yet.’
‘I don’t like being messed with.’ He wasn’t looking at Molly as he said it.
‘Neither do I, dear.’ Their eyes locked and Molly thought, She’s as astute at business dealings as he is.
‘Then what?’
‘You’re coming back from overseas in three weeks?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I’ll sign in three weeks,’ she told him. ‘Down at the farm. After I’ve met this Cara.’
‘I…’
‘That or nothing,’ she told him. ‘You do want to buy the property, don’t you?’
He did. They could all see it. Part of him wanted to walk away from this deal-walk away from these crazy lady realtors and from emotions he didn’t know how to handle. The other part knew he was getting a never-to-be-repeated bargain. The farm was indeed wonderful.
Common sense won. ‘Yes,’ he snapped. ‘But I’ll deal through my lawyer and no one else.’
Hannah nodded. ‘But you and Cara will be there in person in three weeks-and I’ll deal through Miss Farr and no one else.’
‘I’m not going back to the farm,’ Molly wailed, and the attention of the entire group swivelled to her. The attention of the entire restaurant swivelled to her.
‘Of course you’re going,’ Hannah told her.
‘And there’s the little matter of releasing Sam’s frog,’ Angela added. ‘What better reason to make another trip?’
That was enough to sidetrack Guy, if no one else. ‘You’re building a Taj Mahal of a froghouse and you’re going to let the frog go?’ Guy was incredulous.
‘They won’t breed in captivity.’ Molly was distracted past the point where anything was making sense. She was grasping at straws.
‘And breeding’s important,’ Hannah approved. ‘Mating. Relationships. The whole gamut of-’
‘Of frog life?’ Jackson was standing gazing at the lot of them. ‘I see.’ He shook his head. ‘Enough. I’m off.’
‘Me, too,’ Molly said, and picked up her handbag and headed for the door.
‘You’ll both be at the farm on Saturday three weeks from now?’ Hannah demanded after he and Molly paused.
There was a long silence.
If she didn’t go she wouldn’t have a job, Molly thought.
And Jackson thought if he didn’t go he wouldn’t have the farm he so badly wanted.
‘Yes,’ said Molly.
‘Fine,’ said Jackson.
‘Excellent,’ Hannah told them both. ‘And now I suggest we all settle down and have sweets. The lemon tart here has to be eaten to be believed.’
‘I believe I’ve had enough,’ Jackson retorted. His eyes swung to Angela. ‘Tarts and all.’ And he walked out through the door as if he was being shot from a cannon.
CHAPTER TEN
IT WAS nine o’clock in the evening and Molly hadn’t yet recovered from the disastrous ‘business’ lunch. Sam was asleep, but under protest. ‘How can we have such a great froghouse and not finish it?’ he’d demanded. ‘Our frogs are only here for three more weeks. The way it’s going we won’t finish until it’s time for them to leave.’
‘Yes, we will,’ Molly told him, staring in dismay at the instructions for frame assembly. Maybe they could just fill it up without putting it on legs, she thought. Maybe she could get Angela and Guy to stop thinking about each other for long enough to come over. Maybe she could figure it out herself.
Ha! None of those solutions was remotely possible.
‘I’ll ring the aquarium,’ she told him as she tucked him in. ‘They’ll send someone over.’ Though it’d cost her money she could ill afford.
‘Mr Baird said he’d fix it.’
‘Yeah, well, let me tell you something. Have you noticed how good-looking Mr Baird is?’
‘Um…no.’
‘Trust me. He’s good-looking. And it’s time you took on board some sage advice, young man. Never trust the good-looking ones.’
He thought that over and frowned. ‘Girls, too?’
‘Yes. Girls, too.’ But mostly men, she thought. Mostly men.
‘I really thought that he’d come,’ Sam said sleepily into his pillow. ‘I’m sad that he’s so good-looking he breaks promises.’
And so am I, Molly thought, back in the living room and staring at various construction bits. Really, really sad. And if I wasn’t a girl with responsibilities I’d go find myself another tub of Tia Maria ice cream. She stared down at Sam’s frogs, who stared back at her from their too-small box with expressions of mutual lack of interest.
‘Okay. Okay. I’m useless as a builder but I make a great realtor. When I go to bed I’ll let you guys free in the bathroom.’ Then she thought back to something Jackson had said and an appalling possibility presented itself. ‘Only you have to promise to leave the toilet alone. Even I don’t think life’s that bad.’
This statement didn’t cheer the frogs u
p at all. Well, why should it? It certainly didn’t cheer her up.
Bed…
The doorbell rang and she jumped a foot.
It’ll be Trevor coming to haul me over the coals, she told herself. He’d been appalled that she hadn’t finished lunch with a signed contract. She swung open the door with a sigh.
‘I’ve come to fix your froghouse,’ Jackson told her, and walked straight in.
To say she was shocked would be an understatement. ‘You what?’
‘I’ve come to fix your froghouse. Like I promised.’
She thought about that while he set his toolbox on the floor and rolled up the sleeves of his sweater-and somehow she made her voice work.
‘You know…what went on at lunchtime…I sort of figured that might negate any promises.’
‘I didn’t promise you,’ he told her brusquely. ‘I promised Sam. And I’ve got the right gear now.’ He set a man-sized toolbox on the floor and Molly stared down, stunned and impressed.
‘Hey, nice outfit,’ he told her, and she forgot about the toolbox and flushed scarlet. She was wearing rose-pink jogging pants and sweatshirt, both of which had seen better days.
‘You’re kidding.’
‘Beats the funeral clothes.’
She glared and decided to concentrate on the toolbox. It seemed safer.
‘Do you know how to use that stuff?’
‘Sure I do.’
But there was something about the way he said it that defied belief. Her lips twitched, despite her shock. ‘Why don’t I believe that?’
‘Hey…’
‘What’s this?’ she demanded, picking up an implement of not so obvious destruction.
He looked superior. ‘That’s a router.’ His tone was of such confidence that she didn’t believe a word.
‘What does it do?’
‘It routs of course.’ He grinned. ‘Anything you want routed, I’m your man.’
Yeah, right. Drat the man. How could he unnerve her so completely and then make her want to laugh? She swallowed a giggle and tried to be serious. ‘That’s the biggest set of tools I’ve ever seen.’
‘I knew you’d be impressed,’ he told her. ‘That’s why I bought it.’
‘You bought a set of tools-just for tonight?’
‘There’s lots to do tonight.’
He was looking lovely, she thought. Just lovely. In his faded old jeans and a soft cashmere sweater that looked lived in and loved, he didn’t look like a millionaire businessman. Tonight he could be anyone, she thought. Anyone’s boyfriend? Anyone’s lover?
He wasn’t. He was Jackson Baird, client, with his arrangement with an unknown Cara, and she’d better remember it.
‘The froghouse shouldn’t take too long,’ she managed.
‘Not with these tools. But then we need to hang your frames.’
‘My frames?’
‘Your knots.’ He concentrated on his tools, fitting a fierce-looking blade into a screwdriver handle. ‘I’m not going back to the States until I see your knots on the wall. I’ve decided you’ve been a doormat for long enough.’
She stared. ‘I’m not a doormat.’
‘Yes, you are. You sit back and let things happen to you. For instance, have you tried suing this Michael character for the money you put into your home?’
‘Michael’s a lawyer,’ she told him stiffly. ‘He could beat me hands down in a legal fight. And I’d have legal costs and he wouldn’t.’
‘That’s what he’s counting on. What if I lend you my Roger Francis? He should be nasty enough to take on any Michael.’
‘I don’t like-’
‘You don’t like Roger Francis?’ He grinned. ‘Neither do I, but the man’s clever. I’ll be willing to bet he could take on any Michael you like and expect to win. So the offer’s there.’
‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked, and he shook his head.
‘Beats me. Give me a hand with these legs.’
But the question still hung.
And it hung all that night. They worked side by side, erecting the froghouse and then filling it with water and standing it in all its glory against the bar. It meant you couldn’t lean against the counter, but Molly didn’t do a lot of bar-leaning anyway, and it was the most sensible place to put it. Then she watched as Jackson gently released two little frogs into their new home.
Drat the man; he still had the ability to make a lump form in her throat. He stood in his lovely casual clothes, with the two tiny frogs nestled in the palm of his hand, and he handled them with the care he might well use if they were diamonds.
More so.
Jackson was a frog prince, she thought inconsequentially. With those two little creatures in his hand he seemed transformed himself, from ruthless businessman into someone…
Someone she could love with all her heart and with all her soul.
She bit her lip, and Jackson looked up and saw the expression on her face.
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’ The frogs wouldn’t jump off his hand. Neither would she if she was a frog, she thought, and then thought, Whoa… She was being ridiculous.
With his spare fingers Jackson was tickling the frog’s smooth backs. She watched as his index finger stroked each body in turn and her own body shivered. The whole scene was unimaginably, crazily erotic.
Oh, for heaven’s sake! She should take a cold shower. She cast Jackson an angry look, which he fielded as if he hadn’t seen it, then she reached in and moved the frogs from his palm to a mid-pool rock. Their fingers touched in the process. They stood side by side, staring down at the tank.
‘Um… You can go now,’ Molly said finally.
‘Not until the knots are up.’ Still he was watching the frogs. They sat side by side, gazing over their new home of waterfalls and ponds and lush green foliage, and Molly could almost swear they were grinning.
‘They’re set for life.’ Molly gave Jackson a half-hearted smile. Wherever she looked there were problems, she thought, and another problem had just raised its ugly head. ‘You’ve spent all this money and now… Guy’s right. It’s silly. When they go it’ll be empty, and Sam-’
‘Will miss them,’ he finished for her. ‘I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.’
‘You have?’
‘I have.’ He grinned. ‘There’s a brochure in the side of my toolbox labelled “Frog Rescue Society”. Did you know that homeless frogs can be farmed out to foster parents until they can be released?’
He’d taken her breath away. ‘You’re kidding?’
‘No. The foster parents can be anyone, as long as they’re prepared to do a little study, practise their mosquito-catching and prove they’ll be good carers.’
‘You mean Sam and I could be foster parents?’
‘You have the froghouse for it now,’ he told her. ‘I don’t see why it can’t be of use.’
He’d taken her breath away. ‘Sam would love it.’
‘I know,’ he said, and tried to look modest, and she fell in love with him all over again.
But she had to stay businesslike! All she wanted to do was take his face in hers and kiss him to bits and make him want her…
She couldn’t. He was leaving. He had another woman to love called Cara…
‘You found all that out for Sam?’ she said in a choking voice, and his modest look gave way to abashment.
‘Yes. Just call me Mr Wonderful.’ And then he relented. ‘Actually, the guy in the aquarium place told me about the rescue society. He gave me the pamphlet. So caring for frogs could be an ongoing experience.’
It was just what Sam needed, Molly thought. A cause. He’d take it on board and he’d love it.
‘Thank you.’ It was lame, and she knew it, but she didn’t trust herself to say anything else.
There was a drawn-out silence. He was watching her. She should say something else, but all she could think was, this man is leaving tomorrow and I’ll see him once more in my life and that’s it. I
t. And then-nothing.
Somehow she had to sound normal. Sane. Uninvolved, even. ‘We’d better do these frames.’
‘Right,’ he said, but he was still looking at her.
‘You don’t have to,’ she said stiffly, but he didn’t say anything more. He just crossed to the toolbox and found hooks and hammer and headed for the far wall.
There was nothing else to be said between them. Was there?
An hour later she had a display wall of all her knots. Every conceivable knot. And it looked wonderful.
‘What’s that one for?’ Jackson asked, pointing to an obscure knot under his thumb. ‘The slingstone hitch?’
‘Anchoring lobster pots,’ she told him automatically. ‘You can tie it at either the bight or the end. You pull the ends and the turns in the standing section are dropped into the loops.’
‘Right,’ he said faintly. ‘What knowledge! Just like my routing.’
‘Not like your routing at all,’ she said severely, and he grinned.
‘Fine.’ He laid down his hammer and surveyed the wall with satisfaction. ‘More than fine. Now the place isn’t a relic of the past. It’s moving into the future. You’ll be able to discuss the slingstone hitch with anyone who comes along, regardless of whether they’re for tying it at the bight or at the end.’ His smile widened, holding her. Touching her without touching. ‘You and Sam should be right now. With your frogs and your knots.’
‘I…yes.’ He was right, of course. She should have done this before. This made it home.
Almost.
Home was where the heart was. But where was her heart now?
‘Would you like some coffee before you leave?’
He was looking at her strangely and she wanted him to stop it. Or did she? ‘No. Thank you.’
‘What’s time’s your flight tomorrow?’ She was sounding like an inane fool but at least she was sounding. It was hard to make her voice work at all.
‘Early.’
‘Oh.’
‘I should go, then.’
‘Yes.’
They were so close. So close. She could reach out and touch him. Reach out and take him…
And then what? A one-night stand? More of Jackson being unfaithful to the unknown Cara?
A Millionaire For Molly Page 13
