The Single Mom and the Tycoon

by Caroline Anderson

  And Molly had a sudden yearning to add to those numbers, to be the woman who bore David’s children, so that George and Liz could extend their extended family and Charlie could have brothers and sisters and she and David—

  She stopped herself right there. There was no future for them, certainly not the sort of future she was busy dreaming up, and she needed to remember that.

  And wean Charlie off his hero before his heart, too, was broken irretrievably by the inevitable parting.

  It was a lovely day.

  They sorted out the wedding details while Charlie kicked the ball around in the garden, then went home—odd, how he thought of leaving his father’s house to go to Molly’s as going home—only to be joined by Georgie and Nick and their children. They had his father’s dog Archie in tow, as well. He seemed to have moved in with them, and he raced around the garden after a Frisbee and kept all the children occupied.

  Which was just as well, because Georgie was exhausted.

  ‘You should have stayed at home and rested,’ David told her guiltily, but she said that being with her brother was more important to her than resting, and so Molly made him bring out a comfy chair on to the veranda for her, and she sat with her hand in his and they rebuilt bridges while Molly and Nick watched the children and refereed the inevitable squabbles.

  Georgie wanted to hear all the gory details again, and in more detail than the slightly edited version he’d given his father—how it had happened, how he’d felt, when each operation had taken place, how he’d got back on his feet—all of it, and so he told her, going through it once more, and oddly, this time, letting it go as he did so, because at last, it seemed, he could move on.

  After a while Molly settled the children down with juice and biscuits and brought out some more tea for the adults, and the conversation became more general. They ended up staying for supper, and by the time they left Charlie was more than ready for bed.

  Molly took him up, and David cleared up the kitchen and then paced around, restless for some reason. ‘Do you mind if I go fishing?’ he asked her when she came down again.

  She looked at him in surprise. ‘Of course I don’t mind. You’re free to do whatever you want, you don’t have to ask me.’

  Somehow that wasn’t the answer he’d hoped for, but he kissed her cheek and said he’d see her later, and went back out to the cabin to change and find a thick coat. He put on his beach leg, because he was bound to get wet in the boat, and then walked down to the harbour to find Bob.

  He was just getting his rods ready, and he looked up and grunted.

  ‘Wondered when you’d turn up.’

  ‘Sorry, I’ve been busy.’

  ‘Don’t have to explain to me, boy. Coming out?’

  ‘Mind the company?’

  ‘Never minded your company, Davey. You can bait my hooks.’

  He laughed and picked up Bob’s gear. ‘Nothing new there, then. I hope you haven’t got black lugs.’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘Damn. They stink—and they stain your fingers.’

  ‘Big girl’s blouse. Come on, we’ll miss the tide.’

  He grinned and followed Bob down to the boat, tossing the gear in and climbing carefully aboard. They puttered out of the river mouth, between the buoys that marked the ever-shifting shingle banks, and he dropped anchor just off the shore.

  David scanned the shoreline in the deepening gloom, just about making out Georgie’s house in the distance, and then to the right, up on the cliff, he noticed a house that he’d never seen before. It stood out, a large rectangular white block with vast areas of glass, almost ghostly in the twilight.

  ‘What’s that?’ he asked, pointing to it, and Bob looked up from his line and grunted.

  ‘That’s Dan Hamilton’s house. He built it two years ago. Lovely place—proper posh job. I’m surprised you haven’t been.’

  He wasn’t. He’d been pretty unforthcoming with his old friends, so it wasn’t a surprise to him that he hadn’t been invited there, or to Harry and Emily’s house, and he felt a twinge of regret.

  ‘I’ve been busy,’ he said yet again using it as an excuse, and yet again Bob grunted.

  ‘What about this leg, then?’ he said once the lines were baited and in.

  ‘What about it?’ David asked, teasing at his line and wondering what he knew.

  He certainly hadn’t told him much, but the tom-toms might have been working, and Bob was pretty acute.

  ‘Well, I know you lost it,’ the old man said bluntly. ‘The shoe’s a bit of a giveaway. Not as creased. And I know enough people who’ve lost a leg to know what to look for. And propellers tend to win in an argument. So what did your father make of it? I take it you’ve told him now?’

  ‘Oh, he was upset, but he’ll get over it. I have.’

  Another grunt, followed by, ‘Can’t imagine you letting it hold you back. So—when are you coming home?’

  He sighed. ‘I’m not. England isn’t home any more, Bob. I’ve got a whole new life out in Australia.’

  ‘Is that right?’

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘Well, I hope it makes you happy,’ he said gruffly, and then David’s line jerked. ‘Ho, you’ve got a big one on there, boy!’ he said. ‘Reel ’im in.’

  And that was it, subject over, to David’s relief, and for the next three hours they hardly spoke at all. Then, as they made their way back in to the jetty with only the soft puttering of the engine to break the quiet of the night, Bob said gruffly, ‘Be good to Molly. Don’t lead her on. She doesn’t deserve any more heartache, son. Nor does the boy.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed and, sticking his fingers into the gills, he carried the fish home to Molly, gutted them in the sink and put them in the fridge, wondering if he really was leading her on or if they both knew the score, and even knowing that, whose heart was going to ache the most when he went away.

  She came down as he was cleaning up, and sniffed. ‘Smells promising,’ she said with a smile, and he jerked his head at the fridge.

  ‘Ooh, mackerel for breakfast—and sea bass! Fantastic, we can have that for supper,’ she said, peering in, then turned back to him, lifting the kettle in enquiry.

  ‘Tea would be good. I’m awash with Bob’s awful coffee from his flask.’ He wiped the sink down and hung the cloth over the tap. ‘Why are you still up? I would have thought you’d have gone to bed.’

  ‘I’ve been painting.’

  ‘All this time?’

  She smiled softly. ‘And waiting up for you. You said you’d see me later.’

  He felt himself relax his guard, and realised he’d been tense ever since she’d sent him on his way earlier. Stupid. He’d thought she didn’t care, and she was just letting him get on with his life and getting on with hers. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him. One look into her eyes was enough to tell him that.

  He shoved his hands back under the tap and scrubbed them harder to get rid of the yellow stain from the bait…

  The days leading up to the wedding were idyllic.

  He spent a lot of time with his father, and while he was there Molly painted, getting ready for her exhibition. And when he wasn’t there, they painted the cabin.

  Well, mostly. Sometimes they took a long, lazy lunch break and went up to the attic and made love, but most of the time they worked together on the house in one way or another, and it really began to show.

  He fixed the gate, mended the downpipe and tied the rose back up, then scraped the cabin back to the bare wood and replaced some of the boards using the dangerous-looking gadget with a whirling blade he’d brought back from his father’s. A table saw, apparently, and she was glad he put it right away out of Charlie’s reach in the cabin every time he’d finished with it for the day, because the thing gave her the creeps.

  She loved watching him work—well, apart from when he was using the table saw—and, because the weather was being so kind to them, most of the time he had his shirt off, so she was treated to
a glorious view of his body, rippling with muscle under the smooth, tanned skin. And every now and again he’d turn and catch her looking and grin that cheeky, sexy grin which melted her bones.

  She wanted to paint him—to capture the essence of him, the elemental power of his body hard at work. But that would have meant capturing an image of him that would linger after he’d gone, and maybe it would be better to let him go.

  Except she was fooling herself, of course. He was never going to leave her. He’d always be in her heart, and the images of him would be with her for ever.

  So she didn’t paint him, she painted canvases for her exhibition, and she painted the cabin with him, and she stored the images in her mental filing system so she could pull them out and look at them when he’d gone away.

  Then finally the day of the wedding dawned, and she dropped Charlie off with Robert’s parents and headed over to Liz’s little flat at Nick’s house to help her get ready.

  She was, as Molly had expected, utterly calm and relaxed.

  ‘I can’t wait,’ she said with a smile. ‘I’ve known since I met him that he was special, and three years is more than long enough. And at our age, frankly, it’s ridiculous, but we both felt we wanted to be sure. The kids had been through enough. Their only grandparents rushing into and out of a hasty marriage wouldn’t have been exactly helpful!’

  Molly laughed. ‘No, I can see that,’ she agreed, but Liz’s opening comment about knowing since she’d met him that George was special rang a chord. She’d known that David wasn’t just another paying guest who was going to pass through her life and leave it unmarked from the moment she’d turned the corner of her house and come face to face with him in the garden, and the following two weeks had done nothing to change her mind.

  What she didn’t know, and couldn’t begin to work out, was where they went from here.

  The wedding was wonderful.

  They were married in the parish church, in a short, simple ceremony which David found immensely moving.

  So, apparently, did Molly, he discovered when he turned to escort her into the vestry to sign the register as witnesses. Her eyes were over-bright and, as their eyes locked, he found himself wishing for something he couldn’t quite begin to get to grips with.

  Marriage? To Molly?

  Ridiculous.

  Or was it?

  The reception was held at the newly reopened hotel, in the function room designed for such events. If Georgie hadn’t been pregnant, they would have held it at their house, but with four children and another so close it wasn’t sensible—and anyway, Molly thought, George had done such a lovely job on the hotel that it was fitting it should host such a celebration.

  And they did celebrate. She’d never seen Liz look so happy or relaxed, and George was in fine form.

  So, she was rather stunned to see, was David. For the first time he was behaving in public as he did with her, laughing, teasing, flirting with the women and bantering with the men—she could quite see how he’d got his heartbreaker reputation.

  And why he made such a successful hotelier.

  His speech was short, funny and immensely touching, and once the formal part of the reception was out of the way, he relaxed into the occasion with a vengeance.

  Until the dancing started, and then he seemed to withdraw again.

  Would she let him?

  No. He should dance with her—it was, after all, his job to escort the chief bridesmaid, and apart from all the tiny little flower girls who’d long been tucked up in bed, she was it. And she just knew it was another milestone that he had to overcome.

  So she waited, refusing invitations from Harry and Daniel and Nick, and when the music slowed, she stood up and held out her hand to him.

  ‘Dance with me,’ she said softly.

  He grimaced slightly. ‘Molly, I can’t—’

  ‘Yes, you can,’ she murmured and, after what seemed like an age, he got to his feet and took her hand.

  ‘This is another first, so don’t say you weren’t warned,’ he muttered and, leading her to the dance floor, he took her in his arms. They didn’t move much. They didn’t need to, it was enough just to hold him and sway to the music, and after a few moments she felt him relax and ease her closer.

  ‘See? I told you you could do it,’ she murmured in his ear, and he gave a rusty chuckle.

  ‘I don’t call this dancing,’ he replied.

  ‘Well, we can jive if you want, but I’ll probably fall flat on my face,’ she said, and he laughed again, his breath huffing softly against her ear.

  ‘This’ll do,’ he said and, lowering his head, he kissed her fleetingly and then rested his forehead against hers as they swayed to the slow, intoxicating beat. ‘Have I told you how gorgeous you look in that dress?’ he murmured, and she shook her head.

  ‘Remiss of me. You look fabulous.’ He slid his arms down her back, linking his hands in the hollow of her back and easing her closer. ‘Very elegant. Very beautiful. Very, very sexy,’ he added, his voice deepening. ‘I keep wondering what you’re wearing under it. It’s driving me crazy. I want to take you to bed right now and peel it off you and find out,’ he said softly, and she eased away a little and laughed up at him, her cheeks warming.

  ‘Behave,’ she mouthed, and he chuckled and pulled her back again.

  ‘Not a chance. Just don’t leave me here or I’ll be very embarrassed.’

  ‘I won’t, but you need to cool off, because I think your stepmother wants to dance with you.’

  ‘No way. Give me five minutes.’

  ‘We could go outside into the courtyard and cool off.’

  ‘Or I could kiss you.’

  ‘Or both.’

  ‘In the reverse order.’

  They left the dance floor and headed outside, and as soon as they were out of sight of the other guests he turned her into his arms and brought his mouth down on hers and kissed her.

  Thoroughly.

  Her knees buckled, and he caught her up against him with a groan. ‘I want you, Molly,’ he breathed, and she felt the urgency of his body as he cradled her close. ‘You drive me crazy. I need you now.’

  ‘Not here,’ she murmured, easing away from him again, and then they heard laughter drawing nearer and Nick and Georgie appeared in the gloom.

  ‘What are you two lovebirds up to?’ Georgie said, and David groaned softly and let Molly go—but not far.

  ‘Just getting a little fresh air,’ he said, pulling her back against him, and Nick chuckled.

  ‘A likely story. We’ve been sent to find you. Mum and George are heading off soon, and she wants Molly to help her change.’

  ‘Ah. Right. OK. We’ll be with you in a minute.’

  ‘Just mind you are—’

  ‘Come on, Georgie, leave them to it,’ Nick said diplomatically, steering her away, to David’s evident relief, and letting Molly go, he stepped back and took a few deep breaths.

  ‘Better?’

  He gave a strangled laugh. ‘I’ll do. For now. You’d better go and help Liz change. I’ll go and find Dad in a minute.’

  His father was standing in the bar, surrounded by his friends, but when David appeared he broke away and came over to him.

  ‘All right, son?’

  He smiled. ‘Yeah, I’m good. You?’

  His father nodded, slinging an arm around his shoulder. ‘Very good. Very happy.’

  ‘She’s lovely, you know. Liz. A wonderful woman. I’m so happy for you.’

  ‘I couldn’t want for more,’ his father said sincerely. ‘When your mother died, I never thought I’d love again, but you know there’s always room for love in our lives. It’s just a case of finding the way.’

  ‘Well, you seem to have found it.’

  ‘Indeed I have. I just hope you do, too. You’ve been alone too long, David. Marriage is wonderful, you should give it a try.’

  He gave a short laugh. ‘It’s just a case of finding the right woman.’

  ‘I rat
her thought you might have done that,’ his father said softly, and David met his eyes briefly and looked away.

  ‘Yeah, minor problem. I live on the other side of the world, Dad. My life’s there. I live in Australia now, and I’m not coming back. How can I?’

  ‘If it meant enough, you’d find a way,’ George replied, but David didn’t see how. And anyway, it was ridiculous. He hardly knew Molly. What on earth was he thinking about? He must be going crazy.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘WELL, I think that was a very good day.’

  Georgie was sitting on the veranda with her feet up on Nick’s lap, and behind him David could hear Molly in the kitchen with the children, dishing out juice and biscuits. They’d all been down on the jetty crabbing, and they’d strolled along the river wall in the sunshine, and now they were back at Molly’s house relaxing.

  ‘Today, or yesterday?’ he asked his sister with a smile.

  ‘Yesterday. Well, both, but I was talking about the wedding. I thought it was lovely.’

  ‘It was,’ he agreed. ‘They both seemed really happy.’

  ‘Did Dad talk to you about taking over the business?’ Georgie asked, and he felt his smile slip.

  ‘No. He said he was thinking of retiring, but he didn’t mention that.’ Probably because he’d made it clear he was staying in Australia, he thought, and wondered if he’d crushed another of his father’s hopes and dreams. Just when he’d thought they were getting somewhere.

  Well, so be it. There was nothing he could do about it, he didn’t live here any more. He gave an inward sigh, just as Molly came back out with a tray and set it down on the table.

  ‘Here, Georgie, your tea. Nick, your coffee.’ She handed David a mug and sat down beside him with a smile that faded round the edges as she looked at him. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Fine, thanks,’ he said, but he wasn’t, not really, because it was beginning to dawn on him exactly what he’d be leaving behind, and it was getting more and more difficult to be philosophical about it.

  Then Nick turned to him. ‘I’d like to know a bit more about your hotels,’ he said. ‘We’ve all got lots of ideas from the other side of the desk, both on the gym and beauty spa side and also the hotel element, and we’ve taken on a really good manager if his references are to be believed, but running this health club is going to be a new departure for all of us and all the research in the world can’t compete with experience.’