Heavenly Match

by Sharon DeVita

  “Even friends have to trust each other.”

  Trust. The word almost choked her as a haze of fury blurred her vision. That was what it was all about. Now she understood. He wanted her to trust him, simply because he said so. She had once trusted a man, solely on his word. She wasn’t about to make that mistake again. Jonathan had not given her one solid reason to trust him. All he had done was give her more reasons to be suspicious and doubtful of him.

  “Trust!” Molly cried. “You expect me to trust you when you won’t even give me a straight answer! You claim to love your grandmother, and you’re worried about her living alone, but you’re not going to move her to Portland. You’re working on ‘something,’ but you won’t tell me what! Based on all of that, you expect me to trust you?” Her tone was incredulous.

  “You really think I’ve come home to put my grandmother away, don’t you?” he asked, and Molly shuddered. That was exactly what she thought.

  “My God, what kind of man do you think I am?” His voice rose in disbelief and Molly looked away. “I don’t believe this!” he growled, tossing his napkin to the table in disgust. “Molly, if you really think I’m such a monster, why don’t you just notify Sheriff Pritchard? Tell him that big, bad Jonathan Kent is in town. Maybe you’d better warn all the little old ladies in town while you’re at it.”

  “Come on.” Jonathan slid from the booth and stood up. “I’ll take you home. You might not be safe with the likes of me.” His mouth tugged downward in an angry frown.

  With great dignity, Molly squared her shoulders. “No, thank you,” she said with forced politeness. “I know the way.” She lifted her chin to a defiant angle, and with her eyes straight ahead, she swept past Jonathan and marched from the restaurant.

  Chapter Seven

  “Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well?” Emily poured herself a cup of coffee and joined Molly at the kitchen table.

  Molly’s fingers tensed on her cup. She hadn’t slept well in two days, not since she’d stormed out on Jonathan at the ice-cream parlor.

  She was rumpled and tired, even though she had just spent eight hours in bed. Eight sleepless, restless hours. She’d been exhausted but hadn’t been able to sleep. Every time she’d closed her eyes, Jonathan had been there.

  Suppressing a yawn, Molly smiled. “Yes,” she lied, feeling a twinge of guilt. She couldn’t ever remember lying to her aunt, and she certainly didn’t like doing so now, but she didn’t want to worry her. “Very well. How about you?”

  Emily nodded and kept her eyes fixed on Molly. Self-consciously Molly lowered her gaze to scowl into her cup. Jonathan Kent didn’t even have the decency to leave her alone in her misery. And, she realized with a touch of resentment, that’s exactly what she was: miserable.

  Over and over again she had mentally replayed their harsh words. Such a beautiful day had turned into a nightmare.

  “Haven’t seen Jonathan around, dear. Did you two have a lovers’ spat?”

  Molly nearly choked on her aunt’s choice of words. “Aunt Emily,” she said softly. “Jonathan and I are hardly lovers.”

  “Then you did have a spat?” Emily’s eyes pinned her, and Molly shifted uncomfortably. She couldn’t very well tell her aunt that what she and Jonathan had had was more a battle than a spat. If she admitted such a thing, Aunt Emily would want to know just what they had to argue about, and Molly certainly couldn’t tell her. How could she admit that she suspected that ‘for her own good’ Jonathan was about to shuffle his grandmother off someplace away from her home and her family, not to mention her friends?

  A tremor of anxiety skated up her spine. She wasn’t about to tell her aunt about her suspicions. Why alarm her?

  Besides, Molly reasoned, taking a long sip of her coffee, there was always the outside chance that she had been wrong about Jonathan and his intentions. She realized it was a slim chance, but a chance nonetheless. And until she was absolutely certain, she couldn’t worry her aunt needlessly. She’d tell her when the time came and not a moment sooner.

  “Well?” Emily persisted. “Did you have a spat?”

  Molly set her cup down and carefully chose her words. “I’m sure Jonathan has just been busy.”

  “Busy, huh?” Emily’s brows rose, and a hiss of breath whistled from her pursed lips, but thankfully she said nothing more.

  Clinging to her composure, Molly drained her cup and set it in the sink. “I’ve got to get dressed for school. I don’t want to be late.” She pecked her aunt’s cheek and hurried from the room, ignoring the look in her aunt’s eyes.

  All that day Molly tried to immerse herself in her students. She patiently colored and cut and she answered in a great deal more detail than necessary every question asked. She wanted to keep busy to keep her mind occupied and off Jonathan Kent.

  It didn’t work. Just the sight of the Simpson twins brought back a flood of memories of Jonathan and the picnic supper they had shared. Even her suspicions didn’t stop the memories. If she closed her eyes, she could see his irresistible grin, smell the scent of him, hear his rich laughter.

  Not that she actually missed him, she told herself. That was totally ridiculous. How could she miss a man she barely knew? Easy, her mind muttered. Maybe the length of time she had known Jonathan hadn’t been too long, but somehow, instinctively, she knew him. Perhaps it was better this way, she rationalized. She didn’t want a man in her life. Not even one with laughing eyes.

  The day ended all too soon, leaving Molly alone with time on her hands. She didn’t quite feel up to going home yet. She wasn’t certain she could face her aunt or any more questions about Jonathan. Moving through her empty classroom, Molly busied herself wiping finger paints off the desks. Gaily colored pictures the children had painted were spread across her table to dry. Grabbing a rag, Molly scrubbed a blob of yellow paint off one of the desks, certain there was more paint on the desk than on the pictures.

  A faint knock at the door caught her attention, and she sighed inwardly. She really wasn’t up to any conferences today, but the parents of her students knew she was always available after school, no matter what the problem. Wiping a spatter of paint off her hands, Molly turned toward the door and faked her best teacher’s smile.

  “Come in,” she called gaily.

  The door opened slowly and a small white flag waved breezily around the door, bringing a curious smile to her lips. “Is it safe? Can I come in?” Jonathan’s voice caressed her starved senses, bringing an unexpected lift to her heart. Quickly she brushed back her hair and smoothed down her painting smock.

  “Of course, you can come in, Jonathan.” Molly cursed the sudden tremor in her voice. Not wanting to appear anxious, Molly rounded her desk, grabbed a few pictures and pretended to examine them.

  “Hi, Molly.” Jonathan peeked his head around the door and waved the flag in her general direction. Her eyes drank him in. “A peace offering.” He stepped around the door and flashed a dazzling smile. “I wanted to be sure I wasn’t going to get clobbered before I came in.” He pulled his other hand from behind his back and handed her a bouquet of fresh spring flowers.

  “Jonathan, they’re lovely,” she whispered, touched by his thoughtfulness. Molly bent and took a deep whiff of the fragrant blooms. She deliberately kept her eyes from his. She didn’t want him to see the sudden joy she felt. Didn’t want him to know how glad she was to see him.

  “Molly, I’m sorry about the other night.” He grinned boyishly. “The more I thought about it, the more I realized how you could have misinterpreted what I said about my grandmother. I apologize.” His smile was warm and sincere.

  Molly looked at him carefully, and a flicker of doubt planted itself firmly in her mind. Had she misinterpreted what Jonathan had said? Was it possible she was wrong about him? She couldn’t be sure anymore.

  “Are you ready, Molly?” His eyes twinkled at her sudden look of amazement. He was doing it to her again.

  “Ready? For what?”

  “For what?
Molly Maguire, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our date.”

  “Date?” she echoed faintly. Jonathan’s disjointed sentences and abrupt changes of subject matter were playing havoc with her mind. She hadn’t made a date with him. Or had she? He could have told her she had volunteered to ride shotgun on a spaceship, and she probably would have believed him. Since meeting him, she had agreed to do a lot of things she wouldn’t have believed she’d do. Like prancing around in the rain, necking in the park and Lord knows what else.

  “The senior center, remember? We’ve got to get to work. Time’s running out. I’m due back in Portland in less than ten days.” His words caused her heart to hammer. Portland. She’d completely forgotten about the blasted place. Just the sound of the word made her ill. The thought of Jonathan leaving brought a strong bout of sadness, and she didn’t know why.

  Jonathan leaned against the desk and looked at her affectionately. “I thought we’d grab a bite to eat first.”

  Molly shook her head. Helping him as she’d promised was one thing, but she wasn’t about to let this turn into a real date. She had to keep her wits about her, not an easy task with him around. Jonathan would be leaving soon and she was already more attached to the man than she cared to admit. If she allowed her feelings to continue unchecked, his departure in ten days— Molly shook the thought from her mind. She didn’t even want to think about it. It shouldn’t bother her that he was leaving in less than two hundred and forty hours. But it did.

  “Jonathan, I don’t think I can.” His eyes widened in surprise, and she rushed on. “Eat, that is.” Who could concentrate on food with him around, anyway?

  His lips twitched innocently. “Sure you can. It’s easy. First you open your mouth. Then you put the food in and chew. It’s really very simple. I’ve been doing it quite a while now. I’ll be happy to show you how.”

  She opened her mouth to protest again, then promptly snapped it shut. The look on his face was so appealing that her resistance melted. She did have to eat, didn’t she? “All right,” she finally conceded.

  He flashed her a dazzling smile. “That’s my girl.”

  His words made her stiffen. “Jonathan,” she said carefully, “I’m not a girl, and I’m not yours.” The term always grated on her nerves. Jonathan had no way of knowing that Paul had always called her “his girl.” “I’m a woman. My own woman.”

  “Ooops! Sorry, slip of the tongue.” He waved the flag in the air again. “Tell you what, just to prove I believe that you are your own woman, I’ll let you pay for your own dinner. How’s that?”

  Molly laughed softly. He was totally impossible, not to mention irresistible. “You’ve got a deal. Let me just finish up here.” Turning her attention to her table, Molly quickly gathered the paintings and clipped them on the bulletin board to dry. She enjoyed displaying her students’ work. It allowed her to see just how far they had progressed since the beginning of the year.

  “Nice pictures,” Jonathan commented, cocking his head to get a better look. “I particularly like the one that’s green and black all over. Kind of looks like an avocado that’s been stomped on.”

  Molly laughed and turned back to Jonathan, and her eyes widened in delight. “What on earth are you doing?”

  He had twisted his long frame to fit into one of the children’s chairs. Seeing him coiled in the tiny seat brought a smile to her face. “We may not be able to get you out of that,” she warned, shaking her head.

  “Nonsense.” He squirmed uncomfortably. “I’m just a kindergartener at heart. Although at the moment, I think my heart is about the only thing that is kindergarten size. Maybe you’d better help me up.”

  Molly reached out and hauled Jonathan from the seat, acutely aware of the warmth that bolted through her at his touch. He groaned softly and rubbed his backside. “Now I know how poor Sheriff Pritchard felt.”

  Laughing, Molly quickly removed her smock and smoothed down her red cotton dress, wondering why she hadn’t worn something a bit more attractive today.

  “Come on, Molly, let’s go eat.” Jonathan grabbed her hand and led her out of the building. The touch of his hand warmed her senses. She couldn’t deny it any longer: she enjoyed being with Jonathan. When he was near, the sun seemed to shine just a bit brighter. Molly realized she no longer cared if the whole town saw them together. She was just glad he was there.

  “Penny for your thoughts.” Something in his voice caused her to raise her eyes to his.

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” she lied, realizing her thoughts, not to mention her mind, had suddenly become soft when it came to him. “I was just trying to decide where to eat. What do you feel like?” Smiling, she gazed up at him. Oh how she’d missed him!

  “Actually, I feel quite wonderful. Here, touch.” Jonathan stopped abruptly and before she could protest, captured her hand and slowly lifted it to his lips.

  “Jonathan! That’s not what I meant and you know it.” She snatched her hand back and tried to look properly affronted. Did the man have to take everything she said literally?

  “I missed you, Molly,” he whispered. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” His eyes searched her face. The familiar quickening of her pulse began until it roared loudly in her ears, blocking out everything but the man in front of her. Molly tried to swallow but found she couldn’t. All she could do was look at him, lost in the depths of his eyes.

  “Did you miss me?” His voice was a husky whisper. Slowly he reached out and lazily stroked her cheek.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  Jonathan eyed the corner of her mouth, and Molly gave in to the feelings swirling through her. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes in anticipation. His lips devoured hers, seeking and demanding a response. With a sighing moan, Molly leaned into him and wound her arms around his neck, not caring that they were standing in the middle of town, kissing in broad daylight.

  He pulled his mouth from hers all too soon, then dropped an arm around her shoulder. “Come on, Molly, let’s go eat. I’m starved.”

  So am I, she thought dizzily. So am I. But not for food. Definitely not for food.

  The diner was fairly crowded, she noted as the hostess led them to a booth. While Jonathan studied the menu she gazed around the room. Suddenly her eyes grew to the size of billiard balls, and a strangled groan escaped her. Oh no! she thought, dropping her head to her hands. Not here. Not now!

  “Molly? What’s wrong?” Jonathan’s brows gathered and he studied her anxious face intently.

  Molly lifted her head, and her body tensed in irritation as a surge of anger raced through her. Paul Host was in the restaurant! At that moment he caught sight of her and lifted his hand in greeting. She shook her head in disbelief. What on earth was he doing here? And why would he even bother to come over to their table? Surely he didn’t think they had anything to talk about.

  “Molly, look at me! What is it?” Jonathan’s voice had taken on a sense of urgency. “What’s wrong?”

  She smiled weakly at Jonathan. “Wrong?” she asked a bit too brightly. “What could possibly be wrong?” What could possibly be wrong? her mind echoed darkly. Just because her former fiancé, a man she’d hoped never to set eyes on again, was heading toward their table didn’t mean anything was wrong.

  What the devil was Paul Host doing here, anyway? She hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him since they’d broken up. Now, the man had to show up here! Resentment tensed her body. The man’s timing had always been perfect.

  “Hello, Molly.” Paul’s voice jolted her, and she dragged her eyes to his. The man hadn’t changed much, she thought, eyeing the limp smile that graced his thin face.

  Conflicting emotions tore through her as she watched him standing there perfectly calm like a long-lost friend stopping by for a chat. Only he wasn’t a long-lost friend, and she had nothing whatsoever to say to him. At least nothing that a lady could say out loud and in public. How could he simply present himself? Didn’t he know how she felt? Maybe t
he man’s memory was short.

  “Hello, Paul,” she said coolly, wishing he would just go away. She tried to curb the impotent rage that rocked her. What on earth could he possibly want after all this time?

  Jonathan cleared his throat, and she looked up at him in surprise. He was watching her and Paul carefully, his eyes shifting from one to the other. She could tell Jonathan was mentally sizing up the other man, not that there was any comparison. Paul was small and blond, with fair skin and nondescript blue eyes. He was a good six inches shorter than Jonathan and nowhere near as handsome.

  “How have you been, Molly?” Paul asked quietly.

  “Fine,” she snapped, trying desperately to keep a measure of civility to her tone. “And you?” Jonathan’s head jerked up and he frowned at her. She realized her attempt at civility had failed.

  Obviously jittery, Paul shifted from one small foot to the other. “I, um, I’ve been fine, too.” He flashed her another weak smile, and Molly’s lips thinned in annoyance. Wonderful, she thought furiously. Now that he’s given a report on the state of his health, maybe he’ll leave. His boldness infuriated her.

  Jonathan looked at her strangely, then stood up and took control of the situation. “I’m Jonathan Kent.” He towered over Paul, and when he extended his hand to the smaller man, Molly noted Paul’s hand nearly disappeared in Jonathan’s.

  “Paul Host,” the smaller man repeated, turning his head toward Molly, who was sending him silent signals with her eyes. Couldn’t he take a hint?

  “We were just about to have some dinner, Paul. Care to join us?”

  With a murderous glint in her eyes, Molly turned to Paul, mentally urging him to go away, but he ignored her and smiled broadly at Jonathan. “Thank you, but I’ve already had my dinner.” A relieved sigh escaped Molly. Maybe the man could take a hint after all.

  “Perhaps a cup of coffee, then?” Jonathan was talking to Paul, but looking at Molly with a quizzical gleam in his eye.