Molly Matthews Meddles in Marriage

by Jill Steeples

  “You did?”

  He nodded.

  “Yes, of course. I told her I’d met the woman I was going to marry. It was an important thing for me to do.”

  Molly gulped, dropping her gaze as Rory caressed her with his eyes. However many times she heard him say that she would never get used to the idea that he was talking about her.

  “And what did she say?”

  “She was made up. Really pleased for me. And insisted that we send her an invitation to the wedding.”

  “Really?” Her mind was wandering off into all sorts of wonderful directions again. “Hmm, well I can see one major fault with that already. You haven’t asked me to marry you and even if you did, I would say no, so I’m afraid Miss D’Santi might be in for rather a long wait.”

  Her heart was beating so loudly as she spoke she wouldn’t have been surprised if Rory could hear it from the other side of the desk. Rory Campbell was in her office claiming his love for her and she was effectively sending him packing. And although her words were full of conviction her body was letting down the side, big time.

  “Well, that’s three rather lame excuses you’ve given me for us not getting together. Only another ninety-six to go.” Rory glanced at the big expensive wristwatch on his arm and she caught a glimpse of the sun-kissed hairs poking beneath. “I’ve got all the time in the world if you want to go through the other ninety-six reasons, but I can think of much better ways of spending our time. What do you reckon?”

  “I really don’t know,” she said, uncertain if she’d even be able to remember her name properly at the moment. Glancing around her office, she wondered if she’d ever get back to doing a proper day’s work in here. Her life, her business and her heart had been on hold ever since Rory had gone to America.

  “Come here.” He fell backward onto the one big comfy chair that he commandeered as his own whenever he dropped into the office, pulling Molly on top of him, clasping her face in his hands. “Take your time, sweetheart. Really, as long as it takes, I can wait.”

  She wriggled in his lap, his arms constraining her, but as soon as she felt his strong, protective embrace around her, she knew there wasn’t anywhere else she would rather be. She swung her legs over the side of the chair and rested her head against his chest, the deep thud of his heartbeat reverberating in her ear. He pulled her in even closer against his hard firm body and she heard her own sweet sigh of satisfaction ping the air. His finger traced a line along the length of her cheek, his dark eyes filled with adoration as his gaze roved her face until finally his lips descended onto hers. Gently teasing, his tongue traced the outline of her mouth, his breath hot and urgent against hers until her lips parted involuntarily, relinquishing with abandon to the full force of his urgent, ardent desire. His fingertips stroked her neck with the lightest of touches, and then swept tantalizingly across her collarbone before his hand brushed against her breasts, sending sharp jolts of pleasure around her body. Flushed with barely contained passion, he pulled away, his voice low and heavy.

  “Come down to the cottage with me for the weekend. You’ll love it there. It’s so peaceful and quiet, we won’t be disturbed. We can spend the weekend doing nothing, talking, going for long walks along the beach. And eating, I’ll do all the cooking,” he added, as if he knew that might swing the deal.

  “Is it all right to come in?” A rat-a-tat-tat distracted their attention and before either of them could reply, the door had gently eased open and Natalie’s expectant face appeared around the door, smiling.

  “Oh my God,” she cried, dropping her many and varied carrier bags to the floor, complete shock registering on her features. “Are you two like an item then? Although I guess that’s what you would call a stupid question,” she said, shaking her head as her gaze traveled from the pair snuggled in the chair to the half-empty bottle of champagne on the desk.

  “What do you reckon?” Rory asked Molly given her a friendly squeeze around the waist.

  She looked up at Rory, seeing something unrecognizable in his eyes, something masquerading as love perhaps? How on earth would she know? She realized she didn’t know the first thing about the subject.

  “I reckon we might be,” she said to both Rory and her sister, allowing herself a small swell of pride, feeling her heart grow large inside at the revelation.

  “My sister is going out with a movie star, that’s amazing.” She plonked herself down in the chair opposite them, looking longingly at the bottle of champagne. “Do we have an extra glass?” she asked hopefully.

  A further rat-tat-a-tat on the door brought Pippa into the room, doing her customary excited fairy dance. Flapping her hands at her side, she exclaimed, “I always knew you two would end up together!”

  “You did!” said Rory, Molly and Natalie as one.

  “Yes. Now I reckon we should send out for some cakes to celebrate, don’t you?”

  * * * *

  Bella raced ahead, her tail bobbing happily from side to side, her paw prints leaving a trail in the sand. There wasn’t another soul on the beach, just the three of them, Rory, Molly and the dog. Forging ahead against the invigorating, bracing wind.

  Rory had been right. Bexminster was the prettiest village Molly had ever seen, full of flint cottages and cobbled streets, but far enough away from the tourist trail to retain its unspoiled charm. From the bedroom window at the back of Rory’s house you could see for miles into the surrounding green fields, the swathe of long golden sand beyond just visible. Every morning before they’d even had a cup of tea they would pull on their old clothes and head outside, walking for miles, sometimes talking without drawing breath, other times, lost in their own thoughts but united in companionable silence. And although she’d delighted in every word of their intimate conversations, she realized she hadn’t needed to talk after all. She knew, as Rory had promised her she would and with a certainty that surprised her, that she shared in Rory’s desire to take that risk with the gorgeous man at her side, regardless of his superstar status.

  She squeezed Rory’s hand tight, feeling the strength of his fingers intertwined with hers.

  He grinned, dropping her hand and turning around, as he started to run backward, his face animated with mischief.

  “Hey, where are you going?” she said, laughing. “Wait for me,” she shouted after him, but he couldn’t hear, he’d turned and run away, his big strides across the sand putting too much space between them.

  She saw him crouch down in the distance, Bella foraging alongside him, her nose inquisitively investigating what her master was up to.

  “What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly when she finally caught up with them both.

  Rory looked up at her, a huge smile across his face, happiness radiating from every pore.

  “I love you, Molly, you know that?”

  “Yes.” She flung her arms wide, reveling in the moment, feeling the sea air lifting her hair, the wind against her cheeks. “And I love you too, Mr. Campbell.”

  “Good.” She wondered if the moistening of his eyes was down to the nip in the air or was due to something else entirely. He took his hand in hers. “Small steps, big steps, some steps are just worth taking, don’t you think, Miss Matthews?”

  She looked down noticing the words etched into the sand, tears gathering in her eyes at the sight.

  Will you marry me, Molly?

  Bella looked up at her expectantly, as if waiting for her reply, and Molly’s heart melted further.

  All she could do was nod her response before falling into Rory’s arms.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Molly, darling, we have a plane to catch. Do we really have to call in at the office? Can’t Pippa sort it out?”

  “No. It won’t take long, I promise. And Pippa’s coming with us too. Not on honeymoon”—she giggled—“but into the office. It’s a bit of a tradition, I’m afraid.”

  The taxi arrived at the Castle to collect them and Pippa ushered Molly, who was wearing a flowing cream
silk trouser suit, into the backseat. Rory, who had been made to wear a kilt which showed off his toned, tanned legs to perfection, jumped in beside her. Molly thought she had never seen him so handsome.

  “Oh my goodness,” sighed Pippa, her limbs flopping dramatically onto the seat. “I am exhausted, but that was the most amazing day ever. Wasn’t it?”

  Molly dropped her head onto Rory’s shoulder, sighing in agreement. She hadn’t stopped to draw breath all day, it had been one magical moment after another, the hazy blur of events already forming warm fond memories in her head.

  “Did you see Aaron and Natalie on the dance floor?” asked Pippa. “They were getting on famously. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if there was another wedding on the horizon before very long.”

  “I’ll tell you something,” said Molly, becoming animated. “I’ll kill my sister if she messes Aaron about. He is such a sweet guy, I couldn’t bear for him to get hurt.”

  “Oh, I don’t think there’s any chance of that,” piped up Rory. “They both seemed to be totally smitten. And anyway you shouldn’t be worrying about them, not for the next three weeks at least, all you need to worry about is keeping your new husband happy.” He squeezed her waist playfully.

  Molly settled back down into his embrace, happy to be alone at last with the two people she loved most in the world.

  “Come on,” cried Pippa excitedly, peering out through the window into the darkened night sky, “we’re here.”

  The three of them fell out of the taxi and traipsed up the three flights of stairs, giggling as each of them in turn stumbled on their way.

  “Would somebody please tell me what we’re doing here?” asked Rory, as they all bundled into the office.

  “For this,” said Molly, pulling out a Polaroid from her pretty clutch bag, holding it up in the air delightedly. Tears formed in her eyes as she examined the photo of her with her new husband, having never believed that this moment would actually arrive for her.

  She pinned the photo, pride of place, in the center of all the other happy wedding photos, before stepping back to admire her handiwork. Rory put his around her shoulder, squeezing her tight. She looked up into those dark blue eyes, realizing that from that very first day he’d walked into her office, she hadn’t stood a chance. Still, at least her success rate in her matchmaking efforts weren’t compromised. Rory was one satisfied client, he had his happy ending and against all hope, so did she.

  “If I say so myself,” she said, embracing Pippa and Rory in a hug, “that’s a job very well done.”

  Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:

  A Creative Guide to Getting a Life

  MJ Eason

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  When it comes to men, Aunt Mable always said there are good ones, bad ones and the worst possible kind—the kind that steal your heart and leave you wondering what happened. The kind you can’t change.

  Through the years I’d certainly seen my fair share of the worst possible kind. In fact, I often wondered if there wasn’t some sort of hidden sign written across my forehead announcing, ‘Come on in! Open for business! Give it your best shot!’

  I guess I’d never fully appreciated the wisdom of my aunt’s advice until I met David Martinez, the man who broke my heart and destroyed most of my self-esteem. It had taken a year of intense therapy just for me to regain some of my confidence. Forget men. I wasn’t anywhere close to being ready for men again.

  Or so I thought until I looked into the prettiest blue eyes in Texas.

  It happened the night I was catering my first major event for a woman who’d fired some of the biggest names in the business. This was my chance to prove myself.

  I believed I could handle anything that came my way as I stood hopeful before the world dressed in my perfect little caterer’s outfit—starched white shirt, black skirt and sensible shoes. I was ready for any challenge.

  After all, I’d certainly spent enough years preparing for this moment. I’d attended all the best culinary schools in Paris, New York and Texas, put in endless hours, worked multiple jobs in preparation for the time when my small pride and joy, my baby, Carrie’s Creative Catering, would finally become a success.

  For someone on the brink of thirty-five, single and living in Austin—one of the most exciting cities in Texas—success was all around me. So far, it had remained just out of my reach—until tonight.

  “Carrie?” The sound of my name coming from the most gorgeous lips around made me weak in the knees. His voice sounded like pure romance. The Cary Grant kind of romance.

  Unfortunately, the voice addressing me now came attached to one of those worst possible kinds.

  Turn around. Walk away. Before it’s too late, my mind virtually screamed, while my heart seemed to have a will of its own. It kept me standing there, foolishly smiling back at what was undeniably the sexiest man alive.

  “Are you okay?”

  “How did you know my name?” Too late, I remembered the nametag pinned to my crisp white shirt. It announced to the world that my name was Carrie Sinclair in bold, black lettering. Everyone at this party knew my name by now, especially since Martina Hilbert, the woman hosting this little get-together for a few hundred of her closest friends, had informed me that I lacked any real talent whatsoever as far as crab puffs were concerned. My skills in every other area were still questionable.

  Once Martina had finished my thorough dressing-down in front of most of her guests, not to mention all three of my staff members, she’d proceeded to politely smile and simply walk away, as if she were merely commenting on the weather, not condemning my best hors d’oeuvres as garbage. I’d wanted to disappear right there into her spotless Italian marble floor.

  This party was supposed to be my big moment. A client like Martina held parties like this all the time, according my best friend, Stephanie Monroe-Jennings. I’m embarrassed to say Steph got me this gig in the first place.

  In her opinion, if I got in good with Martina and all of her well-to-do friends, it could really put Carrie’s Creative Catering on the map.

  I was now utterly humiliated. If I didn’t escape to some quiet place soon, then everyone here would witness my childish reaction to Martina’s insult. That’s when I all but ran into Tyler Bennedict’s arms.

  The second he’d smiled at me with a little lopsided grin, the first warning whistle along the path to my destruction blew. It would be the first of many to come from that fast moving train headed my way, warning me of the disaster waiting ahead if I was foolish enough to listen to my heart.

  I was.

  “Don’t listen to her. Martina doesn’t know what she’s talking about most of the time. These just happen to be the best crab puffs I ever tasted. And, if I’d known the Carrie of Carrie’s Creative Catering was this talented, not to mention beautiful, I would have booked your services long ago.”

  Damn, he was good! Charming, sweet and unbelievably handsome. All the things that made me push aside my first uneasy feelings about him and ignore those whistles going off inside my head.

  What did it hurt to simply talk to the man? He was a guest. I couldn’t go around pissing off the guests, now could I? And besides, he was gorgeous.

  I took a moment to assess his…attributes, from the dark brown hair streaked with highlights no salon could perfect—those babies came from spending lots of time outdoors—past laughing blue eyes, down to the perfect male nose. The only hint of imperfection I could find in him was a tiny little bump at the bridge of his nose. After a second glance, I decided it gave him character. The icing on the cake came when he smiled at me again, revealing two charmingly boyish dimples.

  I returned his smile, Martina’s nasty little comments all but forgotten. This was one great looking guy. Where exactly had he come from anyway, and why hadn’t I spotted him earlier?

  Suddenly it seemed as if it were just the two of us in this crowded room, like some old romance movie. He looked at me as if I were
the only woman in the world. Later I would come to understand the reason behind this look.

  “Carrie, do you want me to serve the desserts now?” Allison Richmond, my right hand woman, had apparently been asking this same question for quite some time, if the annoyance in her voice was any indication. The world around me came back into sharp focus the second I got a good look at Allie’s smirk. Belinda and Janet, the two high school girls who worked part time for me, were practically drooling over Tyler.

  I forced myself to remember why I was at this party in the first place. I wasn’t one of the rich guests. I was the hired help. Somehow, I untangled my eyes from Handsome Guy and faced the woman who had been with me almost as long as Carrie’s Creative Catering had been in existence.

  “Huh? Oh, y-yes, Allie, that’s a good idea and I-I’ll help you.” I turned back for one more look—what did it hurt?—just to make sure the gorgeous man I’d just encountered was actually real and not part of some twisted fantasy cooked up by my deprived body simply because I was currently in the middle of what must be a world-class sexual dry spell. I blushed as I imagined breaking that dry spell with him and stammered to cover up my overactive imagination. “I-I should go. I, uh, d-do have work to do.”

  Then he smiled again and I forgot everything I’d been about to say—forgot Allie, the dessert and Martina entirely. This was one dangerous man. He could make me forget just about everything, including the fact that my relationship with David had begun just this innocently.

  “I understand, but maybe you’d consider having dinner with me sometime?”

  I looked around the room. Am I the only one hearing those whistles?

  “Did you hear that?” I asked. His only answer was another little grin.

  At least he’s finding me amusing.