by Peggy Webb
“There’s a wonderful park at the Champ de Mars,” she said. “There are carousels and puppet shows and donkey rides. We could spend the entire day at the park.”
“I haven’t see a puppet show since I was ten”
If he kept saying things like that, she was going to melt into a little puddle at his feet. But was it love?
“We can pick up sandwiches at the corner deli and pack a picnic lunch, Sam.”
“Whatever happened to breakfast?”
“We’ll start with croissants and café au lait.”
“All your ideas are wonderful, Molly.”
She shot a quick glance at his face, but all she saw was a friendly smile. Figuring out love was going to be harder than she’d imagined.
Chapter Nine
By the time they reached the park, it was almost noon. The Eiffel Tower made a backdrop for brightly colored summer flowers and quiet tree-shaded walks. Carousel music blended with the laughter of children.
“Look, Samuel... a puppet show.”
A gaily striped awning shaded a small stage. Marionettes danced and sang, their wooden legs tapping against the stage floor.
The puppeteers were singing in French, and Samuel didn’t understand a word they said. What he did understand was the enchantment on Molly’s face. In his hard-nosed business world, he rarely saw such a face. Even his social world was woefully lacking in joyful people. Watching her, he understood why he had fallen so unexpectedly in love.
He wished he knew the perfect words to say to her, the perfect things to do for her. But he was only human; he’d have to content himself with muddling through. And he could only hope that that would be enough.
His hand tightened on hers. If he lost Molly, he might as well buy a one-way ticket to hell, for he knew that life without her would be unbearable.
He leaned down and planted a tender kiss on the top of her head.
She gazed up at him. “Wasn’t that show wonderful?”
“Is it over?”
“Weren’t you watching the puppets?”
“I was watching you.”
“Then you missed all the fun.”
“On the contrary. Molly-watching is my favorite pastime.” Her blush made him smile. “Anyhow, I don’t understand French.”
“Then we’ll have to find some other entertainment for you.”
“I can think of about a thousand entertainments... and all of them involving you.” He set the picnic basket on the ground and pulled her into his arms. With one finger, he tipped her face up to his. “I haven’t kissed you this morning, Molly. It’s time to remedy that.”
It was a lover’s kiss—thorough and very tender. Carousel music echoed across the park, and the sweet fragrance of summer flowers filled the air. And Molly knew. Suddenly she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was in love with Samuel Adams. True, she had been feeling passion... and desire. He had awakened yearnings in her body that she had never known existed. But what she felt now went beyond passion, beyond desire.
She eased her hands around his neck and pulled him closer. Standing on tiptoe, she fitted herself more perfectly against his body.
The Champ de Mars was designed for lovers. Throngs of laughing children and indulgent adults passed them without a glance. The carousel continued its mechanical musical rounds and the puppeteers geared up for another show.
When he finally released her, Molly leaned her head against his chest. She wasn’t going to think about a single thing; she was just going to enjoy the moment.
“I’m ravenous, Samuel. Let’s eat.”
“Already? After all those sweet rolls you had for breakfast?” He grasped the picnic basket and led her toward a grove of trees. “I’ll have to sell stock in order to raise the funds to feed you.”
Laughing, they spread their picnic on a couple of towels from his hotel room, and he got busy stuffing ham and cheese into huge hunks of French bread. He sat down beside her and uncorked the wine. Wine always put Molly in an adventurous mood, and after lunch she talked Samuel into a carousel ride.
She was having so much fun she didn’t even notice the time. It was only four o’clock when they got back to their hotel room, and Samuel disappeared into the bathroom, whistling.
The bed seemed to have grown bigger in their absence. Love in the afternoon. Was that why Sam had come back so early?
What was she supposed to do now? Seduce him, she guessed, and Rule Four be damned. After all, she was the one who had asked for the affair. She wondered if she was supposed to strip all the way or if she could get by with merely taking off her shoes. Lands, she was so nervous, you’d think she had never been naked in front of a man before. She hadn’t, really. Posing nude for artists didn’t count.
She kicked off her shoes and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her hair was a mess and she had a smudge of dirt on her cheek. Nobody in his right mind would find that sexy. She ran a comb through her hair and rubbed at the smudge. What was he doing in the bathroom so long?
She tiptoed to the bathroom door and listened. Water was running. He was showering. That sounded serious to her. Maybe she should put on a sexy gown.
At four in the afternoon? Who was she kidding?
She glanced at the bed again. Now there was an idea. She unbuttoned her blouse and threw it across a chair. Next she shed her bra. Then she tiptoed toward the bed.
“Molly!”
She dived into the bed and pulled the sheet up over her breasts.
Samuel came through the bathroom door. For goodness’ sake, she thought. He was dressed in a three-piece suit and tie. And here she was in bed.
He leaned against the doorframe and surveyed the scene before him. Molly’s hair was fetchingly tumbled over her bare shoulders, and a hint of dirt was still on her cheeks. She seemed to collect smudges the way some people collect fine art. She was holding on to the sheet as if her life depended on it.
“I see you’re already in bed.”
Don’t panic, she told herself. “Yes. I was feeling a little sleepy.”
“Sleepy?”
“Yes. I thought a nap would be nice.” She stretched and yawned to make her lie sound authentic. The sheet slid downward. She grabbed for it, but she was nervous and Samuel was faster.
In three strides he was across the room, leaning over the bed and holding the runaway sheet in one hand.
“Did you drop something?”
She figured a real-live mistress would know what to do when a man looked at your naked breasts that way, but all she could do was sit there tongue-tied. It was embarrassing.
“Not deliberately,” she said, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. She hastily amended her quick confession. “I mean... don’t you think it’s a little chilly in here?”
“It must be. You have chill bumps.” He pulled the sheet over her shoulders and patted her on the head. “Why don’t you take that nap now? You’re going to need your rest for tonight.”
She thought she heard him chuckling as he walked toward the door but she couldn’t be sure. It was hard to tell over the rumbling of her stomach. It always growled when she was nervous.
The door clicked shut behind Samuel. Molly threw the sheet aside and stormed out of bed.
“Good grief!” She paced the floor, punching the air with her fists. “Hell’s bells!”
She stomped around the room for ten minutes before she began to calm down. Then she picked up the phone and dialed her apartment.
Robin answered on the fourth ring.
“What took you so long?”
“Molly, is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
“I didn’t expect to hear from you, at least not for a few days.”
“I didn’t expect to be talking to you, either, but if I don’t talk to somebody I’m going to explode.”
“Is it that good or that bad?”
“Good grief, I don’t know. We spent all day at the park, and then suddenly he decided to come back to the hote
l. Naturally, I assumed... that is, I thought...”
“That he wanted to make love?”
“Right. Anyway, he went to the bathroom and I decided to undress and wait for him in bed. Well, I didn’t actually undress... not all of me. I decided to take off my top so it would look like I was undressed. I figured if he got serious, he could handle my shorts. And then, of course—”
“Molly.”
“What!”
“Calm down, cherie.”
“What am I doing wrong, Robin?”
“It’s not you, Molly. It’s him. I’ve heard American men are very uncreative about sex. Perhaps he’s the kind who has to wait until he’s watched the ten o’clock nightly news.”
“Lands, I hope not!”
Robin laughed. “Maybe you can change his mind, cherie.”
“How?”
“Well, I’m no expert, but here’s what I think you should do…”
o0o
Samuel was late. He had intended to be back at the hotel by eight o’clock, but it was already nine and he guessed Molly must be starving. Perhaps she had ordered dinner sent up or had gone downstairs to a restaurant. He hoped so.
He set all his packages on the floor so he could get to the key in his pocket.
He swung the door open to a room transformed. Gossamer curtains billowed against his face, candles glowed on every available surface, and the heady fragrance of perfume almost made him dizzy. His entire hotel room was hung with gauzy curtains and strewn with satin pillows—scarlet satin. From somewhere in that maze of Arabian Nights paraphernalia he heard soft music and the electric whirring of fans. That’s why the curtains were blowing against his face.
“Molly?” The candlelight made it hard to see. “Molly?” He parted the curtains and stopped short.
Molly was in the center of the room reclining on a pile of scarlet cushions. He didn’t know what to call that outfit she was wearing, if it could even be called an outfit. He doubted it. There wasn’t enough cloth to make a decent-size handkerchief – and so thin he could see right through it.
Forgetting his packages in the hall, he moved closer. The door clicked shut behind him.
Molly smiled. He guessed you could call it a smile. It looked like pure seduction to him. Every fiber of his body stood up and saluted.
“I see you’ve been busy this afternoon, Molly.”
Without a word she tossed her hair over her shoulder and lazily patted the cushions beside her.
“Why don’t you join me, lover?”
He sat down. Sank would be a more appropriate term. The cushions were soft, Molly was intoxicating, and he did what any red-blooded male would do: he wrapped his arms around her and lowered her to the cushions.
She stiffened, but only briefly. The minute his lips touched hers, she was his. He knew that. No man of his experience could fail to recognize the yielding of a passionate woman. He did what was only natural for a man in his condition: he fitted himself expertly into every soft curve and hollow of her perfect body. Until now, he’d never felt naked in a three-piece business suit.
Her hips moved. Whether it was unconscious or deliberate, he didn’t know, and he was past caring. He ran his hands down the length of her legs. Lifting himself on his elbows, he pushed aside the wisp of fabric that covered her breasts. Candlelight flickered over her creamy skin. With one finger, he traced the pattern of light. Molly sucked in her breath.
It was that one small sound that brought him to his senses. Not like this, he thought. He wouldn’t take Molly like this.
He pulled that ridiculously miniscule top back to cover her. Somebody ought to give him a medal.
“Sam?”
“Not that you don’t tempt me, Molly. On the contrary, I’ve never been more tempted in my life.”
“But I thought affairs...”
He hushed her with one finger over her lips. “We won’t be having an affair, Molly.”
He smiled at the look of relief that flooded her face. Slipping an arm under her shoulders, he lifted her off the cushions and pulled her close.
“You see, Molly, I’m in love with you. I won’t allow you to be a weekend lover for any man, not even myself.” He smoothed her hair. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this, but that doesn’t matter.”
“I thought you would be so disgusted and scandalized you’d go back to America, and then nobody would be hurt. Not Bea or your mother or my daddy. We could all just get along together and be a nice, sensible extended family.”
“Is that what you want, Molly?”
She pulled away from him and wrapped her arms around herself, her face a perfect study in misery.
“I don’t know what I want. Not anymore.”
He kissed the top of her head then levered himself off the damnable cushions.
“Do you mind if I blow out a few of these candles, Molly? I’m afraid the room is going to catch on fire.”
“By my guest.”
He blew out the candles nearest the door. While he was up, he switched off the electric fan. The floating curtains settled down. Behind him, Molly rose from the cushions and flicked on a lamp.
“I might have known this wouldn’t work,” she said. “Not with you.”
“It worked all right. Almost too well.” He crossed the room and took her by the shoulders. “Molly, don’t you know how very close you came to being ravished?”
“Really?”
She sounded like a little girl who couldn’t believe it was almost Christmas. He pulled her close and began to caress her back.
“I’d like a repeat performance,” he said, “in...say, six or seven weeks...after we’ve been married awhile and I’m beginning to lose interest.”
Her chin came up and her eyes blazed. “If I can’t hold your interest longer than that, my name’s not Venus de Molly.”
It was the first time she’d ever failed to protest marriage. He was elated.
“Well, perhaps you could save this Arabian Nights fantasy awhile... until I’m a hundred and ten and you’re...”
“You’re crazy.” Her laughter was bright and happy.
“I’m crazy in love.” He kissed her soundly to prove his point. After it was over, he had to take off his jacket and loosen his tie to release the heat. He tossed them carelessly across a chair—a first for him—and started toward the door. “Wait right here, Molly.”
“There aren’t many places I can go dressed like this.”
She waited in the curtain-hung bedroom while he retrieved boxes and bags from the hallway.
“It looks like Christmas,” she said.
“It feels like Christmas.” He heaved the last of the boxes inside and shut the door. “Fortune has smiled on us, Molly. All the packages were still there, even the ice cream.”
“The ice cream?”
“Yes. And the cherries and the whipped cream and the chocolate syrup and the popcorn drizzled with butter.” He unloaded the boxes and bags as he talked.
As she watched, every item she had mentioned in that backyard on Church Street came to light—a circus poster and two tickets to the circus; three carousel music boxes, all playing different tunes; a windup teddy bear dressed in marching-band uniform and beating a tiny tin drum; tickets to the Comedie-Francaise and the Opera.
One of the packages barked.
“Samuel? Is that a dog?”
“Poor little beggar.” Samuel lifted the cover off the dog carrier and a small white furry face peered through the bars. The puppy barked again.
Molly knelt beside the carrier and lifted the miniature poodle out. She cuddled her face to his soft fur.
“A puppy! I can’t believe you bought a puppy.”
Samuel knelt beside her and lavished his attention on both of them, alternately rubbing the puppy’s coat and Molly’s back. Eventually, though, Molly was receiving the lion’s share of petting.
“I love dogs, Molly, and circuses and theater and chocolate sundaes and buttered popcorn. It wasn’t until
I met you that I realized I could make time for those small pleasures.” He sat on the floor and pulled her into his arms, puppy and all. “I love children, too, but you can’t just go out on the street and buy them.”
She chuckled. “I guess we’ll have to settle for the old- fashioned way.”
“Molly...is that a yes to the proposal I’m getting around to?”
She leaned her against his chest and smiled at him.
“Yes, Samuel. Oh, yes.” She kissed him and might have gone on kissing him until morning if the puppy hadn’t protested.
They sat on the scarlet cushions and ate the cold popcorn and the melting sundaes while the music boxes played and the puppy cavorted among the gossamer curtains. Then they lay back on the pillows. Between kisses they described to each other the exact moment they had fallen in love.
“I think it was when I saw your gold-snake sandals,” Samuel said.
“It took me a while longer. You were standing under that painting of mine in Papa’s house, talking about having once loved someone who broke the rules.”
“Let’s break a few rules, Molly. Let’s get married here, in Paris.”
“You don’t want a traditional wedding with our parents and friends?”
“We can have one of those, too, if you like, when we get back to the States.”
“Samuel, I’m willing to break all the rules for you.”
o0o
It was after midnight when he carried her back to her apartment—puppy, bags and all.
After Samuel had gone, Robin came out of his bedroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Molly? Mon dieu! What happened?”
“Things didn’t work out the way I had planned.”
“That’s terrible.”
“No, it’s wonderful.” The puppy barked his agreement.
“What is that creature in your arms?”
“My wedding gift from Samuel. His name is Pirate.”
He sat on the sofa and rubbed his eyes again. “I guess I had too many beers. Or maybe I’ve just missed something. You did say wedding, didn’t you?”
“I did, and you’re going to be the best man.”
“Whatever happened to falling in love first?”
