The Christmas Wedding Ring (Hqn)

by Susan Mallery

  “Will it still work for you when you’re doing it for someone else?” she asked. “You’re not exactly a team player, Dylan. You’ve always gone your own way. Do you think you would survive in corporate America?”

  He’d wondered about that himself. “Good question, and I don’t have an answer. I feel as if I’m being tempted by the devil.”

  “Maybe you are. I would guess the devil has a way of making his offers look very enticing. After all, that’s his job. My advice is to listen to your gut and your heart. Until you know what Black Lightning means to you, you won’t know what you’ll lose by giving it up.”

  Her words made a lot of sense. “I appreciate your input.”

  “My pleasure. Sounds like we both have a lot to think about.”

  Her more than him, he told himself. The other company was threatening to withdraw their offer if he didn’t respond, but he knew they would be back. He had time on his side. But Molly—she had some tough decisions to make. Grant, her job. Considering all that was going on, she was amazingly together and calm about the whole thing.

  “What are you going to do?” he asked.

  A strand of hair worked free of her braid and fluttered around her face. She tucked it behind her ear. “I don’t know. Right now, I’m not sure I even care. I have money in the bank, so nothing is immediately pressing. I suppose I’m fortunate that way. Although I sure don’t feel lucky.” She sighed.

  “Would you want to go into the same line of work?”

  “Maybe. I liked it, but I didn’t love it. I’ll miss the people more than the job.”

  “What do you love? Maybe that’s a place to start.”

  She got very still, then sadness filled her face. For a moment Dylan thought she was going to cry and he fought against panic. What had he said?

  But she didn’t cry. She just shrugged. “At one time I would have told you I loved Grant, but now I wonder if that was ever true.” She sighed again. “I don’t even want to call him names anymore, so the wine must be wearing off. Darn. I liked being happy, even if it was just for the moment. To answer your question, I don’t know what I love. Maybe that’s what I have to find out.”

  “There are career-counseling centers available,” he said. “You could take some tests to find out what you’re good at. Maybe the same line of work in a different field.”

  She rose to her feet. “Maybe. I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

  “You can’t wait forever. You’re going to have to do something about a job.”

  Her gaze was steady. “I know, but not today. All right? If you don’t mind, I’d like to head back to the house now.”

  “Molly—”

  She raised her hand. “I know you mean well. It’s that guy thing about wanting to fix everything. But I can’t be fixed. Not yet, anyway. Just let it go, Dylan. Trust me when I tell you there are things you don’t understand.”

  He wanted to say more, but she walked off before he got the chance. He collected their wine, then followed her to the bike.

  For once, when they rode back to the house, she didn’t lean against him. He figured she was holding on to the bar under the seat, and he found himself missing the feel of her body pressing against his.

  * * *

  Molly had been gone for too long. Dylan stared out the back window of their tiny house and wondered if he should go after her. When they’d returned from the winery, she’d told him she wanted to take a walk and clear away the last of the wine. That had been nearly an hour ago. It was near sunset and he was getting concerned.

  Even as he told himself it was none of his business, he grabbed his coat and headed for the front door. He knew what was wrong. He’d pressed her too much when he’d mentioned her job. It wasn’t any of his business. She’d come away so she could escape what was bothering her, not so he could throw it in her face. While he hated the generalization, he knew it was true. As a man, he liked to fix things.

  A few clouds lingered on the horizon. They were pale yellow and gold from the setting sun. The sea was restless. He could see whitecaps in the distance. The surf was loud tonight, thundering against the sand as it rolled endlessly onto the shore.

  He turned north because that was the direction they always took when they strolled along the beach. Cold wind snapped at his jacket and blew through his hair. As he walked, he searched the beach, looking for a trace of her and trying to ignore the voice in the back of his head that whispered there was something she wasn’t telling him.

  His gut might be silent on the subject of what to do about selling his company, but it had plenty to say about Molly Anderson. For one thing, it was extremely vocal on the issue of wanting her. For now, he pushed that aside. There was also the question of what else was going on. More than once he’d had the sense that she was keeping secrets. After all, she checked her voicemail every night. He couldn’t imagine what her secrets were, but maybe they were the reason she’d reacted so strongly earlier. Or maybe he was battling ghosts as a way to excuse his own probing.

  He continued to watch for her. There was a play area up ahead, with several benches. At this time of day, with the weather on the cool side, no children were around. He saw an old man sitting on a bench, with a large dog next to him. Someone else was a little ways in front, on the sand. As he got closer, he realized the second person was Molly. Around her, climbing over her, licking her face and chewing on her fingers, were a half-dozen black Labrador puppies.

  The old man looked up as he approached, then motioned to Molly.

  “She your wife?”

  For an instant, Dylan wanted to say yes. He didn’t know why, yet the need to claim her was strong. “A friend,” he said, instead.

  “The holidays are hard for a lot of people. Puppies are good for what ails you.”

  At the old man’s words, Dylan looked more closely, and realized Molly was crying. Even as she petted and played with the dogs, tears trailed down her cheeks.

  She hadn’t seen him and he didn’t do anything to call attention to himself. When the old man moved to make room on the bench, he shook his head. No, he would go back to the house and give Molly her privacy. But he ached for her. Why was she crying? Was it because of their conversation? Did it have something to do with those damn phone calls she made every night? He wanted to ask but didn’t.

  The wind caught her hair and tore most of it free from her braid. The long strands blew around her face. One of the dark puppies yapped and lunged for a curl. She laughed and gently pushed the animal away.

  The setting sun caught her then, the pale blond of her hair, the glistening moisture on her cheek. She was, he realized, incredibly beautiful and so terribly sad. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t seen either before. He wanted to do something or say something, but he had no right to intrude on this private moment. So he turned back the way he’d come and returned to the house to wait.

  Chapter Seven

  The day was perfect. Blue sky, warm temperatures, slight breeze. Molly leaned back against the waterproof cushions in the cockpit of the sailboat and struggled to keep her eyes open. The urge to drift, the way the boat did, was strong. “Do you want me to do anything?” she asked Dylan.

  He sat by the tiller, also relaxed, although he looked way more alert than she felt. They were both in jeans, T-shirts and athletic shoes.

  “I thought you hadn’t been sailing before,” he said.

  “I haven’t.”

  “Then how would you know what to do?”

  She closed her eyes and smiled. “I figured you’d tell me. I don’t actually want to do anything. I’m being polite.”

  “Don’t bother. You look relaxed sitting there. Just enjoy the sail.”

  “If you insist.”

  She did as he requested, sinking lower into the cushions. The salt air was a tangy perfume
and the gentle rocking of the boat made her feel surprisingly safe.

  “I thought I’d be scared,” she said, keeping her eyes closed. “What with being out on the water and all. But it’s nice.”

  “We have plenty of life jackets. I checked before we cast off.”

  “You’re very organized. I think I like that.” Her mind meandered from topic to topic. She’d had trouble sleeping the past couple of nights so it was pleasant to fade into that half awake, half asleep place.

  Images from their various outings flitted through her brain. Two nights ago, they’d had dinner in Santa Barbara and asked their waiter where the best Christmas lights were in town. They drove through the dark, quiet streets, admiring the colorful, elaborate light displays. At one house, the display was set to music—“Silent Night.” Dylan had turned off the engine, and they sat there together, quietly, through two verses.

  She smiled at the memory of them trying to grill fish for dinner the previous night. As it had cooked, the fillets had started getting flaky. The grill’s wires were nearly an inch apart and bit by bit their dinner had fallen into the fire. Molly had noticed it first. She’d burst into laughter and hadn’t been able to get herself together enough to rescue their food. By the time Dylan figured out what she’d found so funny, hardly anything was left. They’d been forced to go out for dinner.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  She looked at him. “I was thinking about dinner last night.”

  He groaned. “I can’t believe we lost that piece of fish. It looked great. We’re going to have to get a different grill. Maybe one more like a screen.”

  She shifted so she was lying on her back, facing him. She tucked one arm under her head. The mainsail, as Dylan had called it, held steady in the breeze.

  “Tell me something,” she said. “How did a motorcycle racer and designer like you get to know so much about sailing?”

  He grinned. “A woman I dated was obsessed with the sport. We went out every weekend. She came from a long line of sailors. The whole family was into racing and everything. She taught me. The relationship didn’t work, but I found I liked sailing. I go out when I can. Over the past couple of years that hasn’t been as much as I would like. If I lived closer to the ocean, I’d buy a boat. Maybe in the future.”

  “Must have been a ton of them,” she said.

  “Boats?”

  “No, women.”

  “I haven’t been a saint, but I haven’t been a complete jerk, either.”

  There had been at least three serious girlfriends before he’d dated Janet. Make that three she knew about. There could have been others. He’d spent part of the past fourteen years on the racing circuit. She would bet that the women had been plentiful, especially for a man like him. It wasn’t just that he was the cliché of tall, dark and dangerous. He was also smart and funny. An irresistible combination and she had the crush to prove it.

  “How many?” she asked.

  “You know I’m not going to answer that.”

  “Come on, Dylan, what does it matter if you tell me the truth? We’re friends, right? Friends share information.”

  “Not that kind of information.”

  She sat up and leaned toward him. “Oh, please! How many?”

  “I am not discussing my past with you.”

  He looked serious, but she saw the twinkle in his eyes. “Fifty? A hundred?”

  “Less than a hundred,” he told her.

  “Oh, that’s narrowing it down. Thank you so very much. What does that mean? Ninety-nine or ninety-eight?”

  “I’m not going to tell you. A gentleman does not kiss and tell.”

  “I’m not asking for names or even a brief rundown on their likes and dislikes,” she said. “Although that would be interesting. Just an idea of how many different women have done the wild thing with you.”

  He looked at her. “The wild thing?”

  She nodded. “Yup. You know you want to tell me.”

  “I really don’t. How would you feel if I asked you the same question? You wouldn’t want to explain your love life to me.”

  Molly thought about that for a second. “If anything,” she said, “I would feel depressed.”

  “Why?”

  Because I’m not like you, she thought, but she couldn’t say that to him. He wouldn’t understand and she didn’t want the humiliation of having to explain it. Her life was so small. Sometimes just thinking about it made her want to weep. But she was going to change that, she promised herself. Actually, she was changing it. Right now, just being with him was different from anything she’d allowed herself before.

  “Molly?”

  His voice was low and concerned, as if he actually cared about her. She supposed he did...in his way. After all, they were friends. She sighed at the thought. Friends. Great. He still thought of her as Janet’s little sister, while she was forced to lie awake nights imagining how wonderful it would be to make love with him.

  “Two,” she said at last, because she couldn’t think of anything funny to say. “There have been two men in my life. Including Grant. And the fact that I slept with that loser is just too depressing for words.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  His mouth wasn’t exactly hanging open, but it was pretty close.

  “What did you expect?” she asked. “Life is different for the rest of us. We can’t all be beautiful people, you know. Some of us are just mere mortals.”

  “We’re all mere mortals. I don’t understand why you’re putting yourself down like that. You’re very attractive.”

  Now it was her turn to have her mouth drop open. “Me?” She made a great show of looking around, as if checking to see who else was on the boat. “Dylan, get real.”

  “I am being real, and honest. You don’t think you’re pretty?”

  Why was he making her say this? “No, I don’t. I’ll admit that I’m not hideous, but I’m not anyone’s idea of attractive.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  He sounded sincere, which was nice. He even looked concerned, as if he were searching for a way to convince her he was telling the truth. How could she not like him for that?

  “I think you’re attractive,” he said. “Grant must have agreed with me, or he wouldn’t have wanted to date you. That’s two against one.”

  Despite the dark cloud threatening her mood, she had to smile. “Well, two against one. Okay, then. That makes all the difference in the world.” She leaned back against the cushions. “I don’t suppose it matters much anymore. About Grant, I mean, or even what he thinks of me. That’s over.”

  “Do you miss him?”

  “Not as much as I would have thought. Isn’t that sad? We dated for over a year before he proposed. I would have thought that I’d miss him horribly. Of course, I’ve had a lot of other things on my mind.”

  “Like your job,” he said.

  She nodded, knowing losing her job was the least of her troubles right now. “I’m beginning to wonder if I ever loved him. Actually, I’m really wondering if I even believe in love anymore. I can’t find any proof it exists. I think parents love their kids and vice versa. I believe in different kinds of love. Just not romantic love. Maybe it’s all a plot made up by the media so we’ll send flowers and greeting cards.”

  “You’re too young to be that cynical,” he told her.

  “Age has nothing to do with it. Sometimes I feel a million years old.”

  “You look good for a million.”

  She had to smile at that. “Just when I get ready to start my pity party, you come along and make me laugh. I should hate you for that.”

  “But you don’t.”

  “No, I don’t. I wish it were different, though. I wish I could go back and believe that there are men and women
who love each other and actually want to be together. Who want to make love, instead of just to get off physically.”

  “Is that what you think?” he asked. “It’s about physical release, not emotional bonding?”

  “Yes.” She shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. You’re the expert. What do you think?”

  “I’m still surprised to find a cynic lurking inside you.”

  She told herself that if he knew the truth about her, he would be less surprised, but she wasn’t going to share that with him. Better for him to be a little startled than to pity her. She couldn’t stand that one.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” she reminded him. “What do you believe about love?”

  He was quiet for a long time. Molly raised her head toward the sun and absorbed the heat. It was nice being out here. Most of the time, she didn’t mind if she and Dylan didn’t talk. It was comfortable just to be in the same room. But this time, she really wanted to know what he thought.

  “We need to head back,” he said, moving to the other side of the tiller, then releasing the sail so they could come about. “Watch your head.”

  Molly ducked under the boom and shifted to the other side of the cockpit. When they were under way, heading toward the shore and the marina, Dylan cleared his throat. “I haven’t forgotten your question,” he said. “I’m not sure how to answer it.”

  “You don’t have to. We can change the subject.”

  “I don’t mind. It’s just not something I spend a lot of time thinking about. Do I believe in love?”

  She found herself surprisingly eager to hear his answer. As if it would somehow affect her situation. Which was insane, she reminded herself.

  “I don’t know that I’ve ever been in love,” he said at last, his voice low and thoughtful. “I’ve cared, but that’s not love. I had a lot of feelings for your sister, but Janet and I had more hormones than genuine caring going for us.”

  “I’ll tell her you said that,” she teased.

  “Gee, thanks.”