Molly Matthews Meddles in Marriage

by Jill Steeples

  “Thanks.” She picked up the percolator and poured coffee into two white mugs.

  She smiled to herself, thinking any woman who ended up with Rory would need to have the metabolism of a marathon runner. All she seemed to do with him was eat gorgeous, calorific food and drink far too many glasses of expensive wine. Her willpower wasn’t great at the best of times, but with Rory at her side, it had flown completely out of the window.

  If he asked her now if she wanted to turn right round and go back to bed with him, she felt certain she wouldn’t be able to refuse.

  Not that the high life seemed to cause Rory any harm. His body was as strong and toned as any athlete, testament she didn’t doubt to hours spent in the gym. All those photo shoots were probably a good incentive for keeping his body in peak condition.

  At least Molly had no need to worry about that. She wasn’t a gym bunny. That annoying roll around her middle that she could now pinch through the fabric of the sweat top proved that. Depressingly. In the cold light of day, the excitement of yesterday’s events had fallen flat with a heavy thud. Rory was used to sophisticated models and glamorous actresses tiptoeing around in silk dressing gowns in the morning. And here she was looking like a refugee from an exercise class. He probably couldn’t wait to get rid of her.

  Sighing, she perched her bum on one of the high stools surrounding the island, which was no easy task, and watched Rory as he worked. Maybe it was her fancy, but any emotional intimacy she’d imagined last night had vanished and Rory’s smooth, charming veneer was very firmly back in place. He turned to look at her.

  “I told you I’m flying to the States tomorrow?”

  The words uttered so casually were like a thunderclap over her head.

  “America?” she said, as if to check her ears hadn’t been deceiving her.

  “Yep, I must have mentioned it.” He wasn’t looking at her, his attentions fixed solely on cooking the breakfast. “I’ve got some auditions out there, some meetings with a few casting agents and directors. Fried egg?” he asked.

  Suddenly her appetite had clean deserted her. She felt like snatching that spatula out of his hand and whacking him about the head with it.

  “Oh, that sounds exciting,” she managed, meaning the American trip not the fried egg, before taking a distractive sip from her coffee. Her stomach churned, disappointment and regret flooding through her bones.

  Her instincts had been right all along. Last night it was just his silver-tongued patter at work, he’d been trying to talk her into bed. His going-away gift before he dispensed with her services altogether. And because that idea hadn’t gone to plan, with Molly refusing to play ball, the shutters had come down in his eyes, an icy chill wafting in her direction.

  She found herself glaring at him, desperate for some kind of explanation.

  He mentioned something about a trip to the States when they first met, but she couldn’t have been expected to remember that. He’d had plenty of opportunity over the last couple of weeks to tell her and especially so last night when she’d mistakenly believed that he’d been opening up to her. Anger pricked at the surface of her skin.

  “What about Bella?” she asked, feeling a sudden pang of sympathy for the dog at her feet who was looking as bereft and forlorn as Molly.

  “Oh, she’ll be fine. I’ll miss her, of course, but I’m taking her down to my neighbors in Bexminster. They love having her to stay.”

  Was it possible to feel jealous of a dog? At that moment Molly thought so. He’d admitted he’d miss the dog, but would he even give a second thought to Molly once she was out of sight. Probably not, she reckoned, sadly. She supposed she might never see him again. Tears gathered at the backs of her eyes, her skin prickling with an icy fear. She gave a smile, which felt as false and insincere as Rory’s troubled expression suggested it might be. Bella would survive Rory’s absence with her heart intact, but Molly wasn’t sure that she would.

  Chapter Nine

  How could everything that had seemed so right last night suddenly seem so wrong this morning? Rory shook the frying pan with unwarranted ferocity, trying to concentrate on what he should be doing rather than the oppressive presence of his houseguest. Thanks to her, he hadn’t slept a wink last night, his body tormented with physical urges, his mind wrestling with emotions he had no hope of making sense of. And those images of her sleeping alone in that big, inviting double bed had kept him tossing and turning in his own bed.

  More than anything, he’d wanted her to stay over. He hadn’t thought beyond that, in fact all rational thought had deserted him. That was the effect she had on him. Last night he’d wanted her with an intensity that surprised him, but it was more than that. He knew, in Molly, he’d met the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, but was he just kidding himself. What did he really expect would happen this morning? The little bubble they’d created was bound to burst. Molly would be going home soon and he was jetting off to America tomorrow. He had no idea if or when he might see her again.

  He chewed on his lip, wondering how things had gone quite so wrong. Telling Molly how he felt about her had been a mistake. Not that he hadn’t meant every word of it, but he realized it was far too soon for her. He’d seen the terror in her eyes and the last thing he’d wanted was to scare her away for good.

  His career had been his number-one priority for as long as he could remember and moving to the States for work, a long-held dream. He hadn’t been short of film roles to date, but if he wanted to take that next notch up the career ladder and bag the huge blockbuster parts, then he really needed to move to LA, so his agent advised him. And he’d always told himself that when the time was right, he’d make that move. It wasn’t as if there’d ever been anything to keep him here. Not until now. But the thought of leaving Molly behind was absolutely devastating. The thought of her even walking out of his apartment in the next hour, not knowing if he would ever see her again, was messing with his mind.

  An undercurrent of tension bristled through the kitchen, the silence hanging above them like a rain cloud. He’d never been lost for words in Molly’s company, but now his vocabulary had clean deserted him.

  “Breakfast for Madam?” he said, laying her plate on the table with a flourish, trying to inject a lightness of tone in his voice, which was desperately missing from his soul.

  “Thanks,” she said, looking as though she’d been presented with a bowl of gruel. She stared darkly at the plate in front of her before pushing it away. “I’m really sorry, Rory, but I think I must have overdone it on the champagne last night. I don’t think I can manage this now. I’m feeling queasy. Sorry.”

  His gaze traveled her face. Her paleness, which usually lent a touch of ethereal fragility to her appearance, just made her look weary and anxious. Her eyes, which normally shone with an intelligent curiosity, were dull and lifeless. Her disappointment was tangible. Her disappointment in him spiking the atmosphere.

  “Let me get you a glass of water.” He jumped up and dashed over to the sink, knocking over some pots on the draining board in his haste before returning a moment later.

  “Here you go,” he said, hovering beside her, anxiety clouding his every movement.

  “Thanks.” She avoided his gaze, twisting her body to one side, marking out an invisible barrier between them. “If you don’t mind,” she said, taking a sip of her water before sliding off the ridiculously tall stool, “I think I’ll get my things together and make a move. I’m sure you’ve got plenty to be getting on with, if you’re going away tomorrow.” Her tone was sharp, the edge to her words unmistakable.

  He cursed inwardly. He hadn’t meant to upset Molly, but clearly she was miffed. All she’d done from the moment he’d met her was tried her hardest to find him a potential wife and he’d thrown it all right back in her face. He was obviously the client from hell. Unreliable, unhelpful and now about to do a disappearing act to the other side of the world. No wonder she was silently fuming beneath that calm exterior.<
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  She’d accused him, many times, of not having his heart in this whole process, but that was unfair. When he first walked through the bureau’s doors, his mind was set on finding a partner, someone to settle down with. Even he realized he couldn’t carry on as he done for the past ten years, partying too hard, drinking too much and flitting from one woman to another just to satisfy his basic needs. He was on a path of self-destruction and if he’d carried on that way he would probably have ended up in rehab or worse. His career in ruins.

  He’d been a fool to believe that it would be easy, that he could remain in control over the whole process.

  He certainly couldn’t have reckoned on meeting Molly. That’s when all his best-laid plans went to pot. From the moment he set his eyes on her, he’d been fascinated and intrigued, and hugely captivated by the small, gorgeous redhead with the warm brown eyes and quirky personality to match. So captivated in fact that he’d lost any interest he may have had in any of the dates Molly put forward. If he’d believed in such a thing, which he didn’t, he might have said he fell in love at first sight. It was that powerful. An emotion he’d been fighting ever since. An emotion he simply couldn’t trust.

  “Molly!” He placed his hands on her shoulders, stopping her in her tracks, looking into dark, sad eyes, which were watching him warily. “Everything I told you last night was absolutely true. The minute I walked through your office door, I was smitten. I’m sorry I couldn’t help it! I never wanted to go on any of those dates. I only did it to keep you happy. I should have said something, but I didn’t know what your reaction would be. I sort of got the impression you thought I was an arrogant asshole.” He raised his eyebrows at her and she gave no indication she was about to refute that impression. “All I wanted was to keep on seeing you. It gave me the best excuse.” He smiled, hoping she would return the gesture, but she could barely lift her gaze to meet his eyes, yet still his body felt the familiar swell of desire at her feminine softness in his arms.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve landed this on you, Molls. But I know you feel something for me too. Why won’t you just admit it?” He reached his hand out for hers, but she refused the offer. “I don’t see why we couldn’t just start over, just you and me, and start dating. What do you think?”

  “No, Rory.” She gave a sigh of exasperation, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “You might think you feel that way at the moment, but it would never work. Not when you’re always jetting around the world with so many temptations about you. You’ll find someone who will be able to cope with that sort of lifestyle, but that’s not me. I couldn’t cope with the uncertainty, worrying if you’ll be falling in love with your latest leading lady or if you’re drinking again. I mean if it’s true what you say, then you fell for me pretty quickly. What’s stopping you doing that with the next woman who comes along?”

  “Oh, Molls, don’t you see, that’s exactly my point.” This time he grabbed hold of her arm and spun her found to face him. His clasped her face in his hands. “I know all this has happened quickly, but I’ve had dozens of leading ladies and I’ve never felt this way before about any of them. You must understand that. You’re in the business of love, Molls. And whether you like it or not, I’ve fallen in love with you.”

  “How long are you going for?” Her voice came out in a low whisper.

  “I’m not sure, but I’ll contact you, let you know.”

  His stomach churned uncomfortably, the untruth hanging heavily in the air. Weeks, months, years, at this moment he didn’t know for how long.

  He reached out instinctively, finding the stray strands of red hair that fell over her face, and he pushed them behind her ear. Even in a dreary tracksuit that hid all her delicious curves and without a scratch of makeup on her face, she still managed to look utterly beautiful. Natural and captivating in a way that the highly groomed and buffed to perfection women he was used to dating could never quite manage.

  “Molly,” he repeated, knowing he had a hundred and one things he wanted to say, but finding the words elusive. However strongly he felt for the gorgeous woman in front of him, he couldn’t force her to feel the same way too. Maybe his imminent departure to America was a good thing. It would give them both the space and time to reflect on what had been a heady few weeks.

  He dropped his hands to his sides, biting on his lip in frustration.

  “Thanks for coming last night,” he faltered, the words sounding trite and insincere to his own ears. “I really appreciated having you there. Honestly, it was probably the first time I’ve really enjoyed one of those occasions.”

  Her mouth twisted in half a smile that didn’t reach her eyes and her expression was flecked with confusion, which tugged at his heartstrings. He swept his thumb over her cheekbone and in that split second he knew there was no going back. He should have taken a step backward, said his goodbyes and let her walk away, but those urges and emotions he’d been fighting for so long kept him deeply rooted to the spot.

  “I should go,” said Molly, dropping her gaze, taking that step backward for herself, putting some distance between them.

  “Okay,” he muttered, but there was no conviction in his response. He grabbed hold of her hand in his, the resultant electric charge sending shivers through his bones.

  It was the last thing he wanted. All he wanted was to kiss her again as he had last night. His body and soul were reaching out for her, yearning for her touch, but deep now in his heart, he knew he had to let her go. She needed someone reliable and dependable, someone who would never let her down. Molly wasn’t fling material. Someone to enjoy a thrilling few months with, before they both moved on to the next best thing. For the lucky man, she was for keeps. For a lifetime.

  Hell, Rory had waited almost a lifetime to find his soul mate. Why shouldn’t he be that lucky man? He’d be damned if he was going to walk away without a fight. Molly might not realize it yet, but he could be everything she would want him to be and more. It was just convincing her of that fact that was the problem.

  There was so much unfinished business between them, so much business they hadn’t even started on.

  “We need to talk,” he said, not knowing how he would ever find the words to describe his strength of feeling. He could barely make sense of it himself, let alone try to explain it to the woman in front of him, who was the cause of his inner turmoil.

  He leaned forward, tipping her chin up with his finger, eager to see the expression in her eyes, wanting her to witness the longing in his eyes. And if she could now see his desire and hear it in his quickened breathing, feel the strength of it in the tension of his body, he saw reflected in her brown trusting eyes the same flame of desire flickering expectantly at him. Words escaped him, but he leaned down, leaving the gentlest of kisses on her lips, relishing the sweetness of her taste on his tongue. The air between them sizzled with electricity. For a moment he pulled away to see her looking at him accusingly, before her features melted into acquiescence.

  Fervently, he pulled her into his embrace, his mouth finding her lips again, kissing her more urgently this time. His whole body thrilled with passion and desire as his fingers ran through her hair, making fistfuls of her luscious red locks, as he heard an almost imperceptible moan of pleasure escape her chest.

  “Oh, Molly,” he whispered in her ear, drinking in her delicious scent, knowing there was no going back from this point. He wanted to hang on to the moment, to make it last for as long as possible, never wanting to let her out of his reach again. In his embrace he felt her respond, as he knew she would, the tension she’d held rigid in her arms seeping from her body at his touch.

  Their breathing quickening in unity, he pulled away for a moment, holding her at arm’s length to look into her warm brown eyes, which were alive again, brimming with desire, holding a magnetic force within them. They stayed like that for a moment, entranced, neither of them wanting to break the spell, before Rory noticed the flash of panic wash over her features.

  Her cheeks fl
ushed, her eyes bright, she straightened herself, running her hands through the hair at her temples.

  “I have to go, Rory,” she said, her voice cracked with longing. “I really have to go.” She dropped her gaze and pushed him to one side, seemingly desperate to escape.

  “Molly, wait! You can’t go now.” He grabbed hold of her wrist and spun her around to face him again.

  “No,” she gasped, her whole body pulsing with adrenaline, desire and complete misunderstanding from his touch. All her nerve endings tingled with pleasure and the proximity of his overwhelming masculinity caused a wave of heat to soar from the depths of her stomach, up through her chest, flaming the length of her neck and cheeks. Her legs were in danger of giving way beneath her.

  In her head, she’d been wrestling with the news that Rory was going to America, for how long he didn’t seem to know. Disappointment had lodged in her heart and in the back of her throat and all she’d been able to think was that she’d have no reason now to phone him or to email him or to sit in on one of those infuriating meetings when he seemed to take pleasure in being as evasive and flirtatious and downright contrary as he could possibly be. And she realized then that however much he annoyed and irritated her, she’d secretly relished those intimate times spent alone together. Now she’d have no excuse to contact him. And once he disappeared to America, she knew that he would be lost to her forever, and whatever his protestations now, she suspected he wouldn’t give her a second thought once he was over the other side of the Atlantic.

  How could he be telling her in one breath that he was completely crazy for her and in the next that he was leaving for America? It was so unfair! And just as she was mulling over this new information and wondering where it left her and how she would cope with a huge Rory-sized hole in her life, he’d kissed her. Again. A small, warm, sweet kiss that took her breath away.