Molly Matthews Meddles in Marriage

by Jill Steeples

  “Forgive me, Rory, but you’ll understand why I’m slightly skeptical as to why you would feel the need to use my services. After all, you don’t seem to be short of female company.” She indicated to the paper on the table. “Most of my girlfriends are in love with you. You…”

  “They are?” he interjected, a lazy smile crossing his lips.

  “Yes. So they tell me.” She shrugged, looking as though she found it hard to believe herself. “According to the papers, you’re London’s most eligible bachelor. I’m sure there must be a long queue of young women only too willing to become Mrs. Campbell.”

  “You think? You really shouldn’t believe everything you read in the papers.” He smiled wryly at the truth of her words, his gaze flitting back to the paper. Admittedly, he wasn’t short of female attention, but that wasn’t what this was about.

  “Come on, Molly, give me a break. The only women I meet are people in the business, usually actresses or models. I don’t want a showbiz marriage. I know from bitter experience how disastrous they can be.” He ran his hand through mussed-up hair. “My life is pretty hectic right now. I never get to stay in one place too long. Meeting someone outside of the business is almost impossible for me.”

  Molly listened intently.

  He sat back in the chair, clasping his hands together and resting his thumbs on his chin as he observed her thoughtfully. Actresses, models, it-girls. If they were on the London scene, it was a pretty safe bet Rory had met them and bedded them probably, even if he’d be hard pushed to remember the names of more than half a dozen.

  “That’s why I need your help, Molly. I’m at that stage in my life where I’m ready to settle down, to make a commitment. I want to have kids too, a happy family life. I look upon it in the same way as I look upon my career. You can’t just hang around hoping that you’ll be picked up for the next big role. You have to make things happen. I reckon it’s the same for my personal life. If I don’t put some time and effort into finding my other half, it might never happen.”

  He looked at her imploringly. It sounded convincing enough, he just hoped Molly thought so too. His agent had been applying the pressure. If he didn’t clean up his act and soon, then the work would dry up completely. His latest two movies had been huge box office hits, but the offers for work had stalled. If he wanted to build on his success, make his name in America, then he needed to clean up his image. Keep off the booze, stay away from nightclubs and keep well away from pneumatic blondes who were only too keen to sell their stories of Rory’s prowess in the bedroom. He cringed, thinking of that last conversation with his agent.

  ‘I’ve seen careers ruined on less than this. You’re the man of the moment, I appreciate that, but you think you’re invincible. And you’re not. There are already rumblings that you’re a wild card, too much of a liability. Much more of this behavior and people won’t want to be associated with you, Rory. Don’t throw it all away. Keep your nose clean and don’t do anything that’s going to get you plastered over the press. It’s my reputation on the line here too. Just lie low for a few months. Find yourself a decent woman, someone discreet and low-maintenance. It’s about time you settled down. And it won’t do any harm to your career either.’

  Molly pulled out a folder from the drawer of her desk and scribbled some notes onto a pad.

  “I could help you, if you’re serious about finding a partner. You’ll have to assure me though that you’re fully committed to the process. There is quite an extensive registration procedure. There are a number of forms and psychometric tests I use to get know my clients. I also like to spend some time with them personally, getting to appreciate their values, their ambitions, what makes them tick. I believe that’s why I’m so successful in my matchmaking. I really like to get a good understanding of what it is my clients are looking for in their ideal partner. Does that sound like something you’d be willing to undertake?”

  She made it sound as though he was signing up for the priesthood, not a dating agency. He nodded sagely, belying the complete lack of faith he had in this whole process. Left to his own devices, though, he knew he would be in the same situation months down the line. If he didn’t make a concerted effort to find a wife and settle down, his partying lifestyle would drag him further into the gutter.

  “Absolutely.” So what if it meant living like a monk for the next six months. “Whatever it takes to find my soul mate.” And hang on to my career, although he elected to keep that thought to himself. “I’m prepared to do it. I’m totally in your hands.”

  Confronted with the images of himself in the paper, he knew he had to rein in the partying lifestyle. At twenty he could get away with drinking himself into oblivion seven nights a week. At thirty it was beginning to look pathetically dangerous. If he wasn’t careful, he might end up like his mother.

  He sighed, looking across at Molly, thinking it wouldn’t be a great hardship to relinquish control to the small, curvy redhead. She wasn’t his usual type. If he’d passed her in a nightclub or bar, he probably wouldn’t have noticed her, but up close, her natural charms were all too apparent. Her skin, pale and dusted with freckles, lent her a vulnerability offset by the tumble of red curls piled high on her head and warm brown eyes that flashed with defiance. More distracting was her body. All soft curves and tantalizing glimpses of flesh that he found hard to drag his eyes away from. There wasn’t a jutting hipbone or a sunken cheekbone in sight. Definitely not his usual type. He found himself wondering what it might be like to run his hands over the undulating contours of her body, to feel the softness of her skin. The thought brought a smile to his face.

  “What are you smiling at?” she asked.

  He coughed and blinked away the distracting thoughts.

  “I was just thinking, this is a first for me. You’re the first marriage broker I’ve ever met.”

  “And you’re the first film star I’ve met,” she said, challenging his gaze. Her mouth twisted in a smile and Rory noticed a color fanning her cheeks. “Can I get you a coffee?” she asked. “Then we can make a start on these forms.”

  She stood, a waft of something light and seductive and floral reaching Rory’s nose, his gaze instinctively traveling around her body before settling on her shapely calves. Eyes up, he chided himself, as he nodded his agreement to her offer.

  Molly forced herself to concentrate on the job in hand. Her feet throbbed, her skin prickled with heat beneath the tight-fitting suit and her head swam from all the champagne. That and the distraction of having Rory Campbell stretched out in the chair opposite her made it almost impossible to make sense of the pesky boxes in front of her.

  She found it hard to stop her eyes from assessing Rory, her mouth from gaping open. Everything about him was reassuringly familiar, his sparkly eyes, his wide distinctive jawline and the amused set to his mouth, which made him look as though he was permanently pleased with himself. It was like looking at a much-adored, if wayward, boyfriend. Not that she had much experience of those, at least not the much-adored type, but her imagination was vivid. At the moment, she was struggling to rein it in. It was all she could do to stop herself from leaning over, ruffling his hair and running the back of her hand down his face.

  Finally, she put her pen down, clearing her throat.

  “Thank you, Rory. I’ll review these forms and then what I’d like to do is to have a follow-up meeting, in a day or two, to chat over anything that’s come to light here and to discuss how we move forward. Is that okay with you?”

  “Sure.”

  “We do run some small networking events. A chance for our members to mix in a friendly and supportive environment, cocktail parties, supper evenings, that sort of thing. I think it would be a good idea if you came along to our next one.”

  Rory grimaced.

  “I don’t do networking. Not unless I have to. Which I do for work. Socially, I prefer not to. Especially as I’m keen to keep my membership here strictly under wraps. I don’t need the tabloids finding out
I’ve had to resort to a marriage bureau.”

  Molly startled, her eyebrows dancing high.

  “You think this is a last resort?” She bit on her lip, steadying her breathing. “Our members choose to join the agency as a positive and proactive choice. They come from all walks of life and are extremely well rounded, successful individuals. It’s far from being a last resort. This is an exclusive lifestyle choice.”

  “Of course.” He held up his hands in surrender. “No offense intended. I’m just a bit sensitive about the whole privacy thing at the moment.”

  “All our members sign a confidentiality agreement so you would have no need to worry on that front, but whether or not you choose to attend our events is entirely up to you. But if you’re really serious about doing this then…” She searched his expression for answers. “Is there anything you need to ask me? Anything in particular you might be looking for in a prospective partner?”

  He shrugged as if he’d never even considered the question.

  “Someone nice?” he offered after a pause.

  “Someone nice?”

  “Yep. And kind. With a sweet personality.” The description bore no resemblance to the girls he’d been linked to in the past. He tilted his head to one side, clearly considering other attributes his ideal woman might possess. “Oh, and brown eyes,” he said, looking directly and intimately into hers, a smile playing on his lips. “Must admit I do have a thing for brown eyes.”

  Molly’s stomach went into freefall, her eyelashes fluttering involuntarily.

  “Right, well, I will bear that in mind, although I don’t like to make any promises on physical attributes. Someone nice and kind with a sweet personality and brown eyes,” she repeated in disbelief.

  Rory laughed, shaking his head.

  “What is it?”

  “Oh God, no, I realize I’ve just described my perfect woman.” He sighed, seemingly lost in the moment. “Bella has all those qualities and more.”

  “Bella?”

  “Yes, my golden retriever.” He grinned. “I suppose it would be too much to ask to find someone as devoted and adoring as she is.”

  Molly gave him a sharp look.

  “If you mean you’re searching for unconditional love from someone who’ll put up with any sort of behavior then, yes, it probably is too much to ask for. But I can put you in touch with some women with similar values and interests who I think you might be suited to.”

  Rory’s raised his eyebrows. “You make it sound so very appealing. Like going to the dentist.”

  “You do want to do this, don’t you, Rory?”

  “Yes, yes, of course,” he sighed.

  “Great, well, I’ll see what I can come up with.” She pulled open her diary. “When would suit you for our follow-up appointment?”

  “To be honest, I’m pretty busy over the next couple of weeks, but how about dinner later this week?”

  “Dinner? Well, it wasn’t quite what I had in mind. I was thinking—”

  “No, dinner will be much more fun. There’s a great little restaurant I go to where we won’t be bothered. It will give us a proper chance to get to know each other.”

  Suddenly Rory was calling the shots. How had that happened? Like a nodding dog, she confirmed her agreement involuntarily. A date with Rory Campbell? To all intents and purposes a business meeting, so why was there a ridiculous fizz of excitement bubbling in her stomach?

  Chapter Two

  That feeling, delicious though it was, was short-lived. By the next morning, the fizz had fallen decidedly flat and her stomach was heavy with regret. What an idiot she’d been, acting like a love-struck fan. Rory would be used to women fawning over him, but she should never have let her professionalism slip. Admittedly, she’d been caught by surprise. She’d expected to come back from the wedding to do some light admin work before heading home. Not to find one of the country’s most eligible bachelors making himself at home in her office. The champagne, the wonderful wedding, her flirty high heels had put her in a frivolous mood and she’d been unnecessarily snarky and confrontational with her visitor.

  Thinking about it, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d walked away, taking his business with him. Instead, he’d managed to maneuver her into a dinner date, which wasn’t her usual way of conducting matters at all! Clearly a man like Rory was used to being in charge, but if their business relationship had any hope of succeeding, then he might need reminding that, this time, she would be taking the controls.

  At least tonight would be a chance to put things straight. To get their relationship back on a proper standing. Rory Campbell needed a wife and if there was one thing Molly was good at, it was bringing people together. She always had been. On the playground, she’d acted as mediator when her friends fell out, as a teenager she’d relished being the go-between, passing on love notes between the boys and girls and when she started work in PR, building up an enviable address book overflowing with contacts, she’d eagerly put like-minded people in touch if she thought they could help one another. A natural people person, it was her knack for picking out potential love matches among her friends that brought her the most satisfaction and when a friend suggested she put her skills to good use by setting up her own marriage bureau, she didn’t need any persuading.

  Rory was simply another client. In need of her help.

  * * * *

  She frowned at her reflection in the mirror. What was she thinking? Red lipstick! It clashed horribly with her hair. With the back of her hand, she wiped it away and chastised her reflection with a shake of the head. She didn’t usually take so much trouble over her makeup, so why was it bothering her so much today?

  And if that was the case, if Rory was just another client, why was she feeling so uncertain and giddily nervous, like one of those love-struck teenagers she’d proved such a help to in the past?

  Get a grip, she told herself. With the lipstick gone and the high heels replaced by a sensible pair of black brogues, she headed off to meet Rory. Plain black trousers and a cream-caramel blouse completed the look. She only hoped she looked as inconspicuous as the restaurant, she mused, as the cab pulled up in an exclusive West End street and she gazed up through the window. There was no clue to the restaurant name outside, just heavily bronzed windows with No. 18 etched on the glass in fancy italics. Treacherously, her heart pulsed rapidly in her chest. She took a deep breath as the door swung open and she was greeted by the debonair maître d’.

  “Miss Matthews. Welcome. Let me take your jacket. Mr. Campbell is here and waiting for you. I’ll show you the way.”

  Molly startled at the prompt attention, wondering whether he’d been lying in wait for her. She stifled a giggle as she followed him, immediately regretting her choice of clothes as she took in the splendor of the restaurant. She felt dowdy and drab against the understated elegance of the oak-paneled room. Individual booths suffused in soft lighting gave the place an intimate and cozy atmosphere. Single orchids adorning each table added an exotic touch.

  “Molly, how lovely to see you again.” Rory stood and took hold of her hand, grazing her fingertips with the lightest of kisses. It was a ridiculously over-the-top gesture yet heart-warmingly chivalrous at the same time. Her body responded, desire surging in her chest, as his gaze ran the length of her body. “You look beautiful,” he whispered in her ear, her whole body turning to mush.

  “Thank you.” She sat in her seat, trying hard to hide her discomfort. She knew Rory was only being polite, but she wished he hadn’t made the comment. She looked all manner of things, neat, presentable or smart, but beautiful wasn’t one of them. Growing up with a fashion model for a mother and an older sister, Natalie, who had inherited the gorgeous gene, she knew exactly where she stood on the beautiful scale.

  The maître d’ hovered, presenting a bottle to Rory for his approval.

  “I took the liberty of ordering champagne. You mentioned it was your favorite. Mine too.” He grinned conspiratorially. “Besides,
who needs an excuse to crack open a bottle?”

  Molly cringed. She’d obviously been far too indiscreet the other day. So much for her sticking to the orange juices tonight.

  “Lovely,” she said, watching helplessly as the bubbles filled her glass, before instinctively reaching out and taking a sip just to calm her nerves. Keeping company with a screen heartthrob twice in the space of a couple of days was playing havoc with her peace of mind.

  She’d interviewed dozens of eligible men in the course of her work, all handsome, intelligent and charismatic, but not once had she allowed herself a spark of attraction to any of them. Not once had her legs been reduced to a wobbly mess as hers were now moving restlessly beneath the table. Not once had she found it so difficult to construct a simple coherent sentence in a man’s presence. Yet tonight, with Rory looking more gorgeous than ever in chinos and blue chambray shirt that offset the dark hue of his eyes perfectly, she was struggling with all of those things and more.

  “I hope you’re hungry.” Rory surveyed the menu. “The rack of lamb is excellent, as is the steak Marsala. But everything is reliably good, so go for whatever you fancy.”

  Molly tried hard to ignore the sensation that this was feeling more like a date with each passing moment.

  Rory leaned forward in his chair. His commanding physical presence gave him an authority that made him seem completely in control, as though this was his natural home, just as he had done when he’d sat in her office. Self-confidence and assurance oozed from his every pore.

  Her gaze settled on his long fingers as they caressed the menus. Now he mentioned it, there was a definite stirring of hunger in her stomach.

  “In that case, I’ll go for the rack of lamb.” She snapped the menu shut firmly, eager to reclaim an element of control. “So, I wondered if you had anything you needed to ask me following our first meeting? Anything you weren’t sure about.”