His thoughts turned to their earlier discussion about his business. The buyout offer was generous. When he lined up the pros and cons, it made sense to sell. But something inside him kept resisting. He remembered what Molly had said about his not working well for someone else. That was a serious consideration. If he didn’t have autonomy, then he might find himself hating his job. He didn’t want to live like that.
Molly knew him pretty well. He smiled as he remembered her earnest expression when they’d talked about his options. She really cared about him and he appreciated that. In a short time, she’d come to mean the world to him. In fact—
The bathroom door swung open. “Dylan!” Molly screamed, then she pulled back the plastic curtain and jumped in with him. “Dylan, I called! I called!”
She was laughing and crying and holding on so tightly he couldn’t catch his breath. Her clothes were completely soaked. She kissed him on the mouth and then he knew.
Elation filled him. It was as if the band that had tightened around his chest when he’d first heard about her lump suddenly loosened and dropped away. He squeezed her hard, swinging her around in the tiny space.
“You heard from the doctor,” he said.
She looked at him and nodded. Her wet hair hung down her back; her long-sleeved T-shirt clung to her. Her grin was a mile wide. “I don’t even know why I called. I just checked a couple hours ago, remember? It was like someone whispered in my ear and I had to call. She’d left the message all of ten minutes before. I’m fine. The lump was completely benign. No cancer, nothing. I just have lumpy breasts. Isn’t that great?”
It was the best Christmas present ever. “It’s so terrific,” he said, and kissed her.
The water pounded over them both. He parted his lips and she did the same, then he slipped inside. She tasted as sweet as she always did. Warm and welcoming.
She was okay. The message sank into his brain and freed him from the fear. He wasn’t going to lose her. She wasn’t going to die anytime soon. His throat tightened and his eyes burned. He didn’t know if the water on his cheeks was from the shower or from tears of joy and he didn’t much care. Molly was going to be all right.
The water started to get cool. Dylan broke the kiss, then turned off the taps. “You’d better get out of those wet things,” he said.
She laughed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your shower.”
“Yes, you did, and I’m glad.” He touched her cheek. “About all of it.”
“Me, too. Oh, Dylan, do you know what this means? I get a second chance. I swear I’m not going back to that pitiful excuse for a life. I swear it’s going to be different.”
Her gaze was intense, her face set. “I believe you,” he told her.
She pulled off her wet clothes, then wrapped a towel around herself. “Do you mind if I make a quick call to Janet? She’s been worried, too.”
“Go ahead.”
She scampered out of the room. In a couple of seconds, he heard her excited voice, followed by laughter. He was so happy for her. This was what she deserved. She had her job back, if she wanted it, and a second chance to make things right. Very few people had that opportunity. The best part was, not only did Molly deserve it, but he knew she would make the best of it.
He dried off. His clean clothes were in the bedroom, so he secured the towel around his waist, then walked to the kitchen. In the bottom shelf of the refrigerator, tucked behind a plastic bag filled with broccoli, he’d stored a bottle of champagne. He’d bought it one afternoon when she’d wanted to take a nap and he’d gone for groceries. He didn’t think she’d seen it.
If the news had been bad, he would have kept the bottle hidden, then left it behind when they went back to L.A. But he’d hoped they would have a chance to use it. Now, while she talked to her sister, he got out two glasses, then the bottle, and opened it.
When she saw what he was doing, her eyes widened. She quickly told Janet she had to go and promised to call the next day.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“What does it look like?”
“Champagne. Are we celebrating?”
He handed her a glass and grinned. “You have to ask?”
“I guess not.” She led the way into the cozy living room. He’d started a fire in the fireplace before heading in to shower, and the room was lit by a romantic glow. Her happy expression turned serious. “Thanks, Dylan. For everything. For being so supportive, for helping me get through this, for just being around. Oh, and for the champagne. I’m impressed that you managed to sneak it in the house without me knowing.”
“I’m a very clever guy.” He touched his glass to hers. “Here’s to many years of continued good health. To your future.”
She laughed. “Thanks.”
They sipped. He watched her, noting how the flickering light from the fire illuminated her features. She was so pretty, and so happy she glowed. How could he ever have thought of her as less than beautiful? he wondered. She was an amazing woman and he was fortunate to have this brief time with her. He only wished there could be more.
But it was enough that she was going to be okay.
“I’m relieved and happy, but you must be thrilled,” he said.
She leaned against the back of the sofa and nodded. “I’m shaking inside. I can’t believe I finally have my answer and it’s such good news.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “My lumpy breasts and I are thrilled.”
“Me, too.”
She giggled. As she turned to walk closer to the fire, her towel got caught against the sofa. The corner tucked by her arm loosened and the covering threatened to fall away. When Molly reached for the end, Dylan grabbed her hand to stop her.
“Let it go,” he said.
Her breath caught. She swallowed and stared at him while the towel slowly slipped to the ground.
There was a time when she would have covered herself, when she would have been shy about standing naked in front of him. One night, in the dark, she’d talked about her body, how she hated the way her breasts weren’t perky, and thought her stomach stuck out too much and her legs were chunky.
He didn’t see any of that. He saw the perfect curves, the pale, soft skin, the sweet place between her thighs where he found respite. He saw Molly and he wanted her.
Her gaze moved lazily over him, then she reached out and tugged on the towel wrapped around him. “You seem a little overdressed,” she said, her voice low and husky. He was ready before the cloth hit the floor.
“Nice,” she said, and stroked his length. “Very nice.”
She took a mouthful of champagne, then set the glass on the table. After sinking to her knees, she moved close to him and took him in her mouth.
He thought he was going to die. Or at the very least, his legs would give out and he would find himself sprawled on the floor. The contrasts were more than he could absorb—the heat of her mouth, the coolness of the champagne, the softness of her lips and tongue, the sharp fizzing of the liquid.
She circled him, then drew him in deeply. He had to stop her. For one thing, it felt too good and he was about to lose control. For another, he wanted this to be about her, or at least about them both.
So he placed his hands on her shoulders and gently pulled back.
She smiled. “I felt you pulsing. Dylan, you were about to—”
He bent over and silenced her with a kiss. Several minutes later she broke away and sighed. “Okay, you win. I’m putty in your hands. But don’t think for a minute that hot kiss made me forget you were about to lose it like a teenager.”
“You love that you can do that to me,” he told her as he knelt in front of her on the thick rug in front of the fireplace.
She cupped his face and stared deeply into his eyes. “Absolutely. It makes me wet just thinking about it.”
>
He touched her and found out she was telling the truth. She was wet and ready. He wanted to hold back. They were only a few feet from the bedroom and it made sense to be comfortable. But he couldn’t wait anymore.
“I need you,” he growled, and pulled her close.
She clung to him as if she were just as frantic. “Yes, Dylan. Take me. Make love to me. Help me celebrate the beginning of my new life.”
Even as he moved between her legs, she stretched out on the rug and welcomed him. He entered her in one, long thrust, making them both gasp. He braced his weight on his haunches so he could cup her breasts. Her nipples were already hard and he teased them with his thumb and forefinger.
She gasped, then piled her hands on top of his. “Don’t stop,” she gasped. “Don’t stop because—”
The first release made her convulse against him. He felt the contractions deep inside her. He kept moving in and out, taking them both higher.
He stared deep into her eyes, bonding with her. She cried out two more times, then he felt himself reaching the pinnacle. He dropped his hands to her hips and held her still so he could go in all the way. She half rose into a sitting position and called out his name.
He felt himself explode. Even as he plunged inside, her body contracted around him as she lost herself in yet another moment of release. He couldn’t imagine being with anyone else, ever. She was the very best part of him. Together they created pure joy.
* * *
Later, when they’d recovered their breath, they put out the fire and made it to the bedroom. Molly snuggled against him and sighed. “I don’t want to get up, but we forgot the champagne and I have to listen to my voicemail again. The doctor wants me to phone tomorrow and I didn’t write down the number.”
“I’ll get it,” he said, and rolled off the bed. After collecting the glasses and the bottle, he set them on Molly’s nightstand. The phone was where she’d left it on the counter and there was a pen and pad of paper in the living room. He brought them into the bedroom. She was busy pouring the bubbly liquid into their glasses.
“Want me to call for you?” he asked.
“Thanks.”
He hit the voicemail button. He listened to the message and wrote down the doctor’s phone number. He was about to hang up, when he realized there was a second message.
“Someone else called,” he said.
“Probably Janet.” She waved at him, indicating that he should go ahead and listen while she took a sip of champagne.
But the voice didn’t belong to a woman.
“Hey, Molly, it’s me. Grant.”
There was a pause. He knew he should hand the phone to Molly. Whatever her ex-fiancé had to tell her wasn’t his business. But he couldn’t move. He realized he couldn’t breathe, either.
“I’ve wanted to call for a couple of days now, but I didn’t know what to say,” the voice continued. “I’ve been such an incredible jerk. I can’t believe how stupid I was. I guess I got kind of crazy, what with us getting engaged and all. It was that guy thing, about losing freedom or whatever. I’m not sure.” Grant cleared his throat. “The point is, I’m back. I’m not with my secretary. I never really cared about her. It was just a fling. I want to see you. Molly, I miss you and I still love you. Please, can’t we talk? We had something really special together and I’d like another chance. I know I have a lot to make up for and I—”
“Dylan?” Molly was staring at him. “What’s wrong?”
He pushed the end button and handed her the phone. The message probably went on, but he couldn’t listen to it.
“It wasn’t Janet,” he said, and was surprised that his voice sounded almost normal. There was no way Molly could guess that he was being ripped up inside. He felt as if someone had sliced him open from throat to groin and he was bleeding to death. The problem was, he had no injury. The pain was real enough, but he wouldn’t die from it. He would only wish he could.
Chapter Fourteen
“What’s wrong?” Molly asked, not liking the shock on Dylan’s face. Her stomach knotted. “Did the doctor call back?”
“No.” Dylan cupped her face. “No, it’s nothing like that. You’re fine. You can phone her in the morning and talk to her. Just check your machine and listen to the second message.”
She did as he requested. She was shaking inside—she could feel it. But there was no way she could not know what had happened. She listened to the happy voice of her doctor, then sucked in a breath as the second message began.
“Hey, Molly, it’s me, Grant.”
His words rolled over her. She absorbed phrases about the mistakes he’d made, that he didn’t love his secretary but loved her, instead, that he wanted another chance. She listened, but the sentences had no meaning. When the message was finished, she hung up.
“It was Grant,” she said unnecessarily, knowing Dylan had already heard the message. “He wants a second chance.”
“There it is, then,” Dylan said. “Everything is back in place.”
She felt as if she were in a thick fog. She could make out shapes, but everything was a little blurry and she wasn’t sure where she was going. She stared at Dylan, knowing that if she could make him come into focus, everything else would, too.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“One by one the pieces of your life have been restored. You have your job back if you want it—actually, it’s a better job, with a raise. You’ve found out you’re healthy. Now Grant is begging forgiveness. It’s as though none of this ever happened.”
He was right. It was almost as if she’d gone back in time, before the nightmare began. Only she hadn’t. She’d had to live through it and come out the other side. Her life was restored, but it was so different. The pieces didn’t fit anymore.
“It’s not that simple,” she said slowly.
“You’ll figure it out.”
He sounded so normal, she thought as she watched him. Dylan sat up and casually pulled on his briefs. Same graceful actions, same handsome face. He’d distanced himself from the situation. She wanted to scream in protest. This was supposed to matter—she was supposed to matter. But she didn’t.
Oh, he cared about her as a friend. He’d been wonderful to her. She knew that and was grateful. But he hadn’t grown to love her. If he had, he would have been furious about Grant or at least threatened.
Until that moment, until she’d hard evidence that Dylan didn’t think of her as more than Janet’s little sister, she hadn’t realized how much she’d hoped. In the back of her mind had been the foolish dream that they could be more. That their time together had worked a miracle. One where he finally realized that she was exactly right for him, just as he was right for her. That they belonged together.
Something inside gave a sharp jolt and she wondered if hearts could actually break. He didn’t love her. He would never love her.
Her happiness at the news from her doctor, the confusion generated by Grant’s call and the death of the dream combined to make her feel sick to her stomach. She sank onto the pillows and pulled her knees to her chest. It was only then that she remembered she was naked. Just a short time ago, they’d been making love.
“What are you going to do?” Dylan asked.
She searched his face, hoping for some hint that this was hard for him. He’d been stunned when he’d handed her the phone, but it hadn’t been anything but surprise. If only... Yeah, right. She was a grown-up and she knew better than to count on wishes to make things right.
“About Grant,” she said, but it wasn’t a question. She knew what he was talking about. “I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel. As far as I’m concerned, he’s a lying, cheating piece of trash and I’ll never trust him again.”
“That sounds definitive, yet I sense a ‘but’ in that statement.”
&nbs
p; She shrugged. It was odd to be having this conversation with Dylan. “But I don’t know what to think. Is he telling the truth? Should I even care?”
“You have a history with the guy. At one time you were going to marry him.”
Molly thought about that. Dylan was right. She had been engaged to Grant. So they’d been planning a future together. It felt like another lifetime ago. She couldn’t imagine being with anyone but Dylan. But he didn’t want her, except as a friend. Was she going to spend the rest of her life waiting for him to come around? What about living with no regrets? Was she going to give up her dreams of a husband and children because she’d fallen in love with someone who couldn’t love her back? Talk about a recipe for regret.
“I don’t know what to think,” she said at last.
“You don’t have to decide tonight,” he told her, then tugged on the covers and pulled them up so they were covering her. He turned out the light and slid into the bed. He was warm and familiar. In the dark she couldn’t see much more than the shape of him, but she recognized his heat and his scent. She would always be able to find Dylan just by her sense of smell alone.
He pulled her close. “Don’t tell him no out of hand,” Dylan said.
“I can’t believe you’re saying that. You’re the one who told me he should be shot.”
“I still believe that, but maybe he’s learned his lesson. You’ve put a lot into the relationship. If he’s really changed, do you want to take a chance on losing it?”
Yes, she thought grimly but didn’t say it. “I don’t know.”
“You have time,” Dylan said as he stroked her hair.
She put her head on his shoulder and snuggled closer.
The Christmas Wedding Ring (Hqn) Page 19
