by Susan Crosby
“The money is still yours,” Gray interrupted, hearing the strain m his own voice. He headed for the door.
“You are nothing like your father,” Gunnar said.
Gray didn’t suffer from any illusions. He knew he wasn’t universally loved, as his father had been. Respect was the most he could hope for. Still, the knife-sharp words sliced Gray’s heart heatly in two for the second time in his life. “Lucky for you,” he said to the man just before the door shut. He’d needed proof of Mollie’s parentage. Now he had it, hoarded by Gunnar Swen sen all these years.
The unsettling business behind him, he drove out of the city and into the countryside trying to bury the memories surfacing like a meteor shower. In his mind he struggled once again to stuff them back into the dark place they lived.
When that task was done, he returned to his hotel, booted hi computer, then scanned the list of mail awaiting him. He ignored it all except the one from MollieS: “We can’t even hold hand in front of your parents?”
He stared at the screen. A smile pulled at his mouth. Mollie Mollie, Mollie. Picturing her earnest expression, he laughed. But the laughter soon faded, as did the smile. When the truth came out, would she be as irreversibly changed as he had been?
The phone rang. A few minutes later he hung up, satisfied Knight Star Systems had lost out in the bidding for a deal that would have been the biggest in their history, a bid they should have been awarded easily.
Stuart should be fitting the final pieces of the puzzle together Questioning his abilities. Anguishing over having to lay off em ployees. His character was about to be tested—failure tested : man.
Soon, everyone would know Stuart Fortune wasn’t perfect.
Tick-tock, Stuart. Tick...tock.
Six
Mollie wondered if she was going to survive the roller coaster of a day—the exhilaration of her first plane flight followed by the stomach-plummeting anticipation of meeting Gray’s parents, which was imminent. They had just turned off the main road into a long, imposing driveway, bordered by flower beds and ees and shrubbery.
“Be fearless.”
She smiled at Gray’s quiet words, wishing he would kiss her or luck. She couldn’t figure out what he was waiting for.
“And be yourself,” he added.
“You wouldn’t know it to look at me now,” she said after lowing out a breath, “but I actually do enjoy meeting new people. It’s just that your parents aren’t people.”
He laughed.
“You know what I mean.” Her cheeks heated. Great. Just in me to meet his mother. “If I were coming here on business, s their party planner, I would know how to act. I would have list of questions. But since I’m pretending to be your girlfriend, or whatever you would call it, I’m working without a safet net.”
“My mother will discuss the weather and her garden, an perhaps her charity work. She won’t ask questions that are to personal, in case the answers might be unpleasant. She will be shocked that you live in Minneapolis, but you won’t know from her expression, which won’t change.”
“This all sounds so encouraging.” She could see the house now. Mansion. Whatever the old, beautiful, formal structure was called with its massive columns and interesting facades. “What about your father?”
“He won’t have much to say. He’ll probably take me off t his office to bring me up to speed on what happened while was gone. His position is chairman of the board, by the way McGuire Enterprises is his creation, although it’s changed tn mendously through the years. He started it before he marrie my mother.”
“And now you run it.”
“Right.” Gray parked in front of the house. “Here we are.
The house looked bigger and grander from up close. No turning back.
“Our luggage will be taken to our rooms,” he said as the climbed the wide stairs. The front door opened. “Good morning Endicott.”
Endicott? Mollie almost laughed. This was like something o of an old black-and-white movie.
“Mr. McGuire. Welcome home.”
“Thank you. This is Miss Shaw.”
“Miss.”
“Hi.” Mollie stuck out her hand. The man took a few ur settling moments, then shook her hand—once. His uniform looked more like a tuxedo. ,
“Your parents are in the morning room, sir.”
“Thank you.” Gray stepped back, letting Mollie precede him through the door, then directed her along a maze of hallways t the rear of the house. “Are you hyperventilating yet?” he aske quietly as they walked.
She was still contemplating her mistake with the butler, c whatever he was called. She’d figured out too late that shaking hands with a servant probably wasn’t acceptable behavior. “Not quite.”
A man rose from a yellow chintz chair when they entered the room, a tall, slender man with wavy black hair and eyes almost as dark. Mollie glanced at the woman seated beside him, her gaze fixed on Mollie, her neatly styled champagne-colored hair undisturbed by the overhead fan.
“Good morning,” Gray said to them. “This is Mollie Shaw. Mollie, may I present James and Gretchen McGuire.”
Mollie shook hands with each of them, then waited for her cue. When Gray motioned her to a chair, she gladly took a seat. Gray sat nearby without giving his parents a hug or kiss hello. No welcome home. No we’re-so-glad-you’re-back greeting.
“This is a beautiful room, Mrs. McGuire.” The yellow and green surroundings were warm and inviting, even if its occupants weren’t.
“Thank you, Miss Shaw.”
“Oh, please call me Mollie.”
Mrs. McGuire nodded. “Did you have a nice flight?”
“Oh, yes! It was just wonderful. I’ve never flown before. I think I had my nose pressed to the window the whole time. Everything looked so small! Then we could see into everyone’s yards as we came in for a landing. Does everyone have a swimming pool...” She noted the coolness in the air and stopped talking, knowing she’d been prattling out of nervousness.
“Many do, I’m sure. Where do you live?”
“Minneapolis.” Gray was right, Mollie thought. There hadn’t been even the tiniest change in his mother’s expression.
“Mollie owns a flower shop. She designed the basket I sent you.”
“Did you? It was lovely. I’ll give you a tour of my gardens later, if you’d like.”
“That would be wonderful. Thank you.” Mollie shifted in her chair.
“I imagine you would like to freshen up a bit after your flight,” Gretchen said. “James and I will be leaving for church shortly. Would you like to attend with us, darling?”
“We have plans, Mother.”
He stood, so Mollie did, as well. Apparently they’d been dismissed, after a conversation shorter than Mollie might have with a browsing customer. No one had even brought up the weather, which was glorious—warm and cloudless.
“We’ll see you at lunch,” Gray said.
“I’ll need to speak with you after,” James McGuire said.
“Of course.”
Mollie followed Gray silently out of the room, down a couple of halls then up some stairs. Everything gleamed, from the highly waxed, wood floors to the enormous chandelier in the entryway at the foot of the sweeping staircase. The place smelled of lemon oil, a soothing balm to Mollie’s frayed nerves, even if the house itself didn’t breathe warmth like Mac and Kelly’s big, beautiful home. Love went a long way toward filling up empty spaces, Mollie decided.
“They put you in the room adjoining mine,” Gray said, opening a door.
“Really? Why?”
“Because I requested it.”
She looked around at the four-poster bed with canopy, the spindly legged lady’s desk and the fine damask prints that curtained the windows and covered the bed. A bouquet of Queen Elizabeth, Peace and Sterling Silver roses welcomed her, the lovely crystal vase centered on a starched, crocheted doily.
“I’m in here.” Gray opened the door connecting their rooms.
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She peeked in, discovering a room similar to hers, with fabrics a little more masculine and a sturdier desk. “This wasn’t your room when you were a boy?”
“I’m a guest now. I haven’t lived here for more than ten years.”
“Oh.”
Gray watched her take in everything, watched the light fade from her eyes. He’d tried to warn her, but she probably couldn’t have pictured how different his life had been from hers. Her disappointment was evident. He needed to change that. “I hope you brought shorts with you.”
“Yes. Why?”
“Because you’ll need them where we’re going. Unless you’d rather stay here and rest up from your exhausting journey?”
She smiled at his words, then looked around her room again. “I don’t see my suitcase anywhere.”
“It’s been unpacked for you.”
“Someone put my underwear away? Eeuw. That’s creepy. Not to mention the fact I’ll have to hunt down where everything is.”
He frowned. “I’m so used to people taking care of the details that I don’t think about it anymore.”
“And have those people become invisible to you?”
Which was a very good question—and one he didn’t care to answer. He believed he was more distracted than pretentious, but her chiding tone hit home. “Knock on my door when you’re ready.”
Her eyes gleamed with challenge. “You think it’ll take me longer than you to change?”
“Those are betting words, Mollie Shaw.”
She tugged her blouse free and started unbuttoning from the bottom. “Winner buys hot fudge sundaes.”
His attention was diverted by her fingers as they worked another button free, then another until only the top button remained, her blouse falling open slightly to reveal a hint of pale skin. “Ah, shouldn’t it be the loser who buys?”
“Think about it,” she said, giving him a little shove toward his room.
He didn’t want to think about anything but that sliver of flesh that made his mouth water. She unfastened the top button then, but held the blouse closed. He recalled the bra he’d seen hanging over an open dresser drawer in her apartment. White. Plain. Incredibly sexy. Was that what she wore now?
“You’d better get a move on,” she said as she kicked off her shoes and shimmied her panty hose down and off from under her skirt with her free hand, while holding her blouse shut with other. And there he stood, like a gawking teenager who was seeing a girl undress in front of him for the first time.
What did she think? That he was like a brother or something? A nonsexual human being? A man without needs?
He leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms. “I think I’ll see just how far you’ll go while I’m standing here.”
That stopped her. “How far do you want me to go?”
Not the right answer, he thought, realizing she might accept the dare—although he doubted it. He shut the door in her face.
She made clucking sounds through the wood.
He smiled, because she couldn’t see.
“Ha!” she shouted less than thirty seconds later, following it with a staccato knock. “Hot fudge sundaes are on me!”
“That doesn’t make sense. Loser should pay.”
“I figured it was the only way I could pay for something on this trip.”
He pulled a T-shirt over his head, then intentionally slowed himself down. He’d been hurrying. Racing. “I invited you, Mollie. You’re my guest.”
“Which doesn’t mean that you get to pay for everything. Can I come in? Are you decent?”
“Sure.”
She seemed to burst in, bringing sunshine and laughter and energy. He caught her sweeping his body with an interested gaze, then she stretched out on her stomach on his bed. He debated between sneakers and a pair of soft, casual loafers he could wear without socks, which were probably more practical for where they were headed.
“I do earn a good living, you know,” she said, resting her chin on her folded arms.
Living hand to mouth was a good living? He could argue the point—except that for all his money, he wasn’t nearly as happy as she.
“I don’t think your mother likes me,” she said out of the blue.
A knock on the door saved him from answering. Mollie scampered out of his bedroom and into hers like a vapor trail. Only the quiet click of the latch indicated she’d gone. Shaking his head at her theatrical exit, he opened the hall door. “Mother. I thought you’d already left.”
Gretchen strode past him and into the room. “Is everything to your liking, darling?”
“Yes, of course.” He noticed she put her back to Mollie’s room and kept her voice low.
“And your.. friend? Is she comfortable?”
“I’m sure she is. Although she wouldn’t complain, regardless.”
“Yes, I could see that. She’s a lovely girl. Very fresh.”
Subtle emphasis on the word girl, Gray noted. “Yes, she is.”
“And you met in Minneapolis? How did that happen?”
“She was one of the sponsors of a charity ball I attended.” Which was just a little misleading. Mollie hadn’t been there in person, after all. But his mother could make her own assumpt ions from that bit of information.
“You seem to be spending a lot of time there these days.”
“Is there a point to this, Mother?”
Her last face-lift had left her with a permanently inquisitive expression, and looking younger, too, of course.
“Shouldn’t I be curious about the girl my son brings home For me to meet? You’ve never brought an overnight guest before. Why should you? You live barely twenty minutes away.”
“I wanted the two of you to spend some time together. This seemed the easiest way.”
Tension sparked between them. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of marrying that child?”
“Child?” An image popped into his head. Sleek, yet curvy. Long-legged. A fresh, flowery scent sometimes mixed with a hint of magic. Woman. She was all woman.
“You know what I mean.” Gretchen lowered her voice further. “She wouldn’t do.”
“Wouldn’t do what?”
“Don’t play word games with me. She wouldn’t do as wife to a man with your responsibilities. Your status.”
Gray angled closer to his mother so that Mollie couldn’t possibly overhear, even if she had her ear pressed to the door. “I expect you to treat her with respect, Mother. She’s a nice young woman who’s going through a hard time. Her mother died not too long ago, and she’s still grieving. I thought she would enjoy a trip to California. I thought the change of scenery would be good for her.”
“Are you saying you’re not considering marriage with her?
“I’m saying I want her to feel welcome here. Like you, sh loves flowers. It shouldn’t be hard for you to use that commo bond to make her feel at ease.”
James McGuire stepped into the room. “We’ll be late Gretchen, dear.”
“I’m coming.” She moved smoothly toward her husband “Luncheon at two o’clock, darling.”
“We’ll be there,” Gray said. He glanced at his watch after they left. It didn’t give them much time. Grabbing his wall and keys, he stepped into his shoes, then knocked on Mollie’ door.
“Ready?” he asked when she opened the door. She’d brushe her hair and put on some lipstick, so he guessed she hadn’t bee trying to listen in on the conversation.
“Absolutely. Where are we going?”
“You’re going to get your first up-close look at the Pacifique Ocean.”
She launched herself at him. “Wishes do come true,” she whispered into his neck, her breath warm.
Once again he felt like her knight, only this time he let the image linger in his mind.
Seven
“I feel like I missed curfew,” Mollie said morosely as Gray drove the last mile to home. “I did that once. Only once. My mother was waiting at the door for us, arms crossed, foot tapping
. I was grounded for two weeks.”
“How late were you?”
“Well... an hour, but we had a good reason.”
Gray smiled. She had probably used the same tone of righteous indignation with her mother on that fateful night. He couldn’t remember being grounded for anything. Probably because he spent his free time working instead of going out with friends. He hadn’t played sports or held an office or joined an on-campus club “What was your ‘good reason’?”
“We fell asleep.”
“Where?”
“In his car.”
“Where?”
“Well...parked by the lake, but we hadn’t done anything.” She flipped her hair behind her shoulder with her hand. “Not much, anyway. Didn’t you ever get caught?”
“I never parked with a girl.”
“Never?”
He shook his head at her incredulous tone.
“You missed out, Gray. Necking in a car is fun. It’s exciting It’s dangerous,” she added with a dramatic whisper. “The cop know the places the kids use, so every once in a while they sneak up alongside the car and flash their light in your eyes then send you home.”
“You, meaning you? Or you in the general sense?”
“The reason we were only an hour late that night was because a cop rousted us.”
Rousted. Gray laughed at the scene he imagined. “I wish I’d been the one in the car with you.”
“You would’ve set your watch alarm so we wouldn’t be late.’
He laughed again, feeling as free and easy as one of the sea gulls they’d watched at the beach. He turned into the driveway and eased the car down the path, then he heard Mollie sigh, loud and deep.
“Will your parents have waited on lunch because of us being fifteen minutes late?”
“Probably.”
“Great. Another reason for your mother not to like me. No to mention the sand we’re tracking in with us, which means we need to clean up first. Which will make lunch even later.”
“We would have to change, regardless. Shorts are not allowed at the dining room table. Anyway, I’m the one to blame. I didn’ want to leave.”
He’d obeyed all the rules that Mollie had set down as they’d driven to Half Moon Bay. Serious topics were prohibited, es pecially anything to do with business. Computer was a forbidden word. Fun was the only order of the day. And watching her fact when she stepped onto the beach for the first time, then wade into the ocean was worth any comment his mother might make
