Molly Darling

by Laurie Paige

  “Especially from your stepfather.”

  She saw his hands tighten on the steering wheel, then relax. “Yeah, especially from him. He waltzed into our lives six months after my father died and took over. Thought he was J. R. Ewing.”

  “You resented his taking your father’s place. That’s natural. Obviously he didn’t win your trust or friendship.”

  “He was eight years younger than my mother and looking for the main chance. I hear he’s courting a rich oil widow in her sixties down in Texas. Should I warn her he has a way of moving money from a joint account to one in his name only?” His tone was hard and cynical.

  Molly made a sympathetic sound. She knew more about his past now, thanks to Tiffany and the pastor’s wife. They had both warned her about becoming involved with Sam.

  The preacher’s wife had taught Sam in high school. “A smart boy, sailed through school making A’s and B’s without cracking a book. But he had an attitude. Very independent. Hated taking orders from anyone. Caused trouble at home.”

  Molly knew it was gossip, but she’d listened anyway.

  “He hated his stepfather, who was a charming man by all accounts. However, I didn’t know him. They weren’t churchgoing people, you know. The ranch belonged to Sam, but his mother had the use of it for her lifetime. That might have caused trouble. Gives a young person too much sense of his own self to come into an inheritance too early.”

  “Sam isn’t like that,” Molly had said.

  “There wasn’t much money, I understand. The Tis-dale girl had money from her grandmother. He married her within a few months of moving back to these parts.”

  “Because he loved her,” Molly said softly, knowing it was true. “He married her for love.”

  The preacher’s wife sniffed in disdain. “All the men wanted her. She was like a cat, a wild one, racing around in a little red car like she owned the road. She and the Frazier boy were two of a kind. Some say he didn’t want the baby and tried to make her get rid of it.”

  Molly was shocked and furious, but she didn’t show it. She assumed an innocent expression. “But we know Sam better than that, don’t we? Isn’t it amazing how gossip gets started and spreads without any base whatsoever?” she asked.

  Mrs. Liscomb had had the grace to blush.

  As well she should, Molly thought indignantly. No wonder it was so easy to plant suspicion about a person when people who should know better perpetuated the stories.

  “Something bothering you?” he asked. “You huffed as if you’d just thought of something that made you mad,” he added when she looked at him in surprise.

  Molly relaxed. During the time she’d been seeing Sam, she’d often been amazed by his perceptiveness. “I was thinking about how gossip gets started and how it lingers.”

  “People been telling you to stay away from me?”

  She straightened. “Sometimes you scare me. You seem to read my mind.”

  “You’re very open and honest in your relationships and emotions. Sometimes that scares me.”

  Laughter bubbled out of her at the thought of this man being scared of anything, much less her.

  “I like it when you laugh,” he murmured. “It makes me think that all is right with the world.”

  Her world was very much all right. She’d been happy these past four weeks. She loved her work, a handsome man was interested in her, what more could she want?

  “The world can be a nice place.”

  “Maybe.”

  “If we don’t let our troubles overwhelm us.”

  “A little pep talk, teacher?”

  She smiled. A deep contentment pervaded her. The inside of the truck was comfortable and cozy. The evening had been pleasant. More than pleasant.

  When they’d left the movie and stood talking to the attorney and his wife beside their car, Sam had laid his arm casually across her shoulders. She’d linked her hand in his while they finished their conversation and said good-night.

  The warmth of his body alongside hers lingered in her memory, causing tingles along her throat and down her chest.

  They were growing close, she thought. Sam was more relaxed in her presence. During the four weeks since that first dinner, they’d gone to the truck stop twice more, then to the café in town once for lunch.

  Sam hadn’t been able to go to the literary meeting this month because of Lass, but he’d brought dinner to the nursery school this past Wednesday. He’d waited at her desk while the other parents picked up their children.

  When she’d locked up, they’d gone to her cottage, fed Lass and eaten the roasted chicken dinners he’d brought. He’d left immediately afterward. He hadn’t once tried to kiss her. Not ever. Although she’d thought he was thinking strongly about it a couple of times.

  It was very confusing.

  Sometimes he seemed to be…interested, but at others, it was as if his mind were far away, in another world.

  They arrived back at her house shortly before midnight. Tiffany let them in. “Lass is asleep.”

  “Was she any trouble?” Sam asked.

  “Not a bit. She’s a doll.” She patted back a yawn. “Did you have a good time?”

  “Yes, it was a wonderful evening,” Molly replied.

  Tiffany gave her an assessing look, then flicked her gaze over to Sam. Molly could sense the reservations her friend had about her seeing the rancher outside of school hours, but she said nothing.

  Molly would not tolerate any insults to Sam. He had been a perfect gentleman each time they’d been out. Of course, until tonight, Lass had always been with them.

  “Good.” Tiffany grabbed her coat and purse. “Well, I’ll be on my way. Good night.”

  “I’ll walk you out.” Sam saw her to her car and on her way.

  Molly hung her coat in the hall closet. When Sam returned, she smoothed her sweater down over her slacks, feeling like a teenager whose mother might walk in any minute and find a young man in the house.

  “I’ll put on some coffee while you check on Lass,” she said. “If you’d like.”

  He nodded and strolled into her bedroom where the playpen was located. Molly hurried to the kitchen. Her hands trembled ever so little while she measured out coffee and water.

  Tension gathered in her like a coiled whip. She’d felt it in the air while at dinner. Sam had watched her during the evening with an intensity she hadn’t seen since the first time they’d gone to dinner.

  She had noticed Chuck Nader, Sam’s attorney as well as his friend, giving him a couple of sardonic glances that seemed filled with hidden meaning. Sam had frowned at the man and sent him a warning look.

  Footsteps behind her sent a nervous tingle along her throat again. She spun around.

  Sam stood a few feet from her. His eyes were almost black in the dim light of the lamp over the table.

  She sensed strength in him, and the emotions that he kept clamped inside. She wished she had the key to free them, to let him love again the way he’d once loved.

  There was no way she could give him back a happy past, to make his boyhood days the carefree, happy ones he should have had, but his future…

  A tremor rushed through her when she realized what she was thinking. “The coffee is about ready.” She sounded breathless.

  He reached out and touched a strand of her hair. “Did you have a good time tonight like you said?”

  “Of course.”

  “Of course,” he repeated. “You always tell the truth, don’t you?”

  She was intensely aware of his hand close to her face, of the way he smoothed the curling strand over and over between his finger and thumb as if judging its quality for some purpose of his own.

  “I try.”

  A ghost of a smile touched his lips and was gone. He released her hair and sighed. “Let’s have that coffee, then I have to get home. The day starts early on a ranch.”

  She poured them each a cup and went to the table. Sam sat opposite her and blew across the hot surface b
efore taking a drink. “You make good coffee.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But then, you do everything well.”

  “Thanks again. I think.” She wasn’t sure that was a compliment or not. “Do you get tiled of tending the ranch? There seems to be so many problems, so many things you can’t control, such as the weather, farm prices and all.”

  “There are times during the winter when I think an inside job would be a good idea.” He grinned, then continued in a softer tone. “But when the sage is sweet and the air is balmy, when the sun shines and all the world seems right, then I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

  She pictured him astride a horse on a high mesa… king of the mountain… and envied him.

  It was a curious emotion, envy. She realized it was the sense of oneness he shared with the land that she wanted.

  Maybe dating this handsome rancher wasn’t the best thing for her. He made her think of things she shouldn’t. For example, she wasn’t a sensuous person, yet she often thought of touching him. Worse, she couldn’t seem to control the longing to do so. It was disconcerting to say the least.

  She didn’t think Sam was looking for a romantic attachment. However, the world must be a lonely place after having someone to share it with. A soul could wither and die from the loneliness.

  A meow at the door diverted her thoughts. She reached out and turned the kitchen doorknob, letting Porsche, long, black and sleek, into the house. The cat went at once to her food bowl.

  “If there’s reincarnation, I hope to come back as a cat in your house,” Sam told her. “Food, shelter and nary a worry.”

  “How long would you be satisfied as a pet?” she teased.

  “Forever, if I were a cat. Not long as a man. I wouldn’t fancy being kept on a leash.”

  “Perish the thought.” She cupped her chin in her hand and leaned her elbow on the table. “I can’t see you as a pet.”

  A flash of emotion appeared and disappeared in his eyes. “No, neither could I.”

  Chills chased along Molly’s arm. He seemed to be speaking of something in his past. She wondered if she dared question him on it, but decided against it. He would tell her what he wanted her to know and nothing more. She’d learned that in the past four weeks.

  Porsche finished her meal and leapt into Molly’s lap, her purr turned up full blast. Molly stroked the smooth black fur. “Where’s your playmate?” she asked the cat.

  “There’s two of them?” Sam asked.

  “Yes. Someone dropped them near here last summer. They were mere babies. I fed them by hand for a few days until they learned to eat on their own. They’re shy and tend to stay out of sight when someone is in the house.” She looked up with a smile. “They’ve gotten used to you and Lass.”

  Sam watched her rub the cat and thought of that pale, slender hand stroking through his hair. His body went on red alert, and heat pooled low in his abdomen. He’d tried not to think of Molly that way this past month. It had been hard.

  His adult relationships with women had been based mainly on physical attraction and the need of the moment. Since meeting Molly he’d learned the value of friendship with the opposite sex.

  Her viewpoint, her opinions, her understanding of life were different from his. It had been a new experience to explore her sharp, agile mind. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he saw the hour was well past midnight.

  He finished the coffee, reluctant to leave this warm, peaceful place. Maybe Molly would invite him as well as Lass to stay the night… He cursed at his wayward libido and stood.

  Molly, startled, stood, too. The cat jumped to the floor, meowed with annoyance and walked out of the kitchen with a stately gait.

  “I’d better go,” he said.

  She nodded. Her expression was as innocent as Lass’s. Molly, for all her degrees in learning, never seemed to realize the times when he was gritting his teeth to control his reactions to her warmth, her scent, her womanly nature.

  Tonight she wore dark slacks and a red sweater that hugged her delicate shape like the black nylons had defined her legs at the literary meeting. He wondered how he could ever have thought she was plain.

  She wasn’t an attention-getter the way his wife had been, but she had a muted vibrancy about her that reminded him of wildflowers in a spring meadow.

  “Molly,” he said. He heard the deeper register of his voice, the shift into the husky tones of desire. Since he’d stood close to her, his arm over her shoulders while they said good-night to the other couple, he’d wanted to touch her.

  Really touch her.

  She looked up at him, her eyes shining like a mist backlighted by the sun. The sure knowledge came to him that he was going to kiss her.

  For a second his breath hung in his throat. He didn’t trust his control with her, and he didn’t want to frighten her. Molly was a lady; all his experience had been with a different kind of woman.

  He took hold of her shoulders. His hands looked big and rough on her slender form. Her candid gaze, slightly questioning but trusting, affected him in ways he couldn’t explain.

  Instantly he knew without a doubt the opinionated little schoolmarm had never had a man. She had no idea what he wanted from her, of the mindless lust that could drive a person into equally mindless acts… like marriage.

  It almost unnerved him.

  He hesitated to pull her close, afraid that he wasn’t reading her right. With Elise, it had been no problem. They’d met at a bar in Roswell. One look, one dance and they’d left the place. Elise had been all over him the minute they’d arrived at the ranch. They’d married two months later.

  But this was a different time, a different woman. Molly wasn’t ruled by her senses or a childish greed for pleasure and fun all the time. He watched in fascination as her tongue stole out and moistened her lips. She was nervous.

  A quick kiss, just a taste, that was all he’d take, he assured himself, nothing to alarm the most circumspect of maiden schoolmarms.

  He slid his arms around her, carefully, slowly drawing her close. He lowered his head, his gaze on those soft lips that now showed a tendency to tremble. The tenderness he often felt toward Lass washed over him.

  To his surprise, he felt her arms lift and come around his shoulders, felt her warmth plaster itself down the length of his body, felt the richness of her generous nature as she accepted his touch.

  Heat burst outward in a shower of red sparks behind his closed eyelids. Heaven. This was pure heaven. He didn’t want to stop.

  Chapter Four

  Molly couldn’t believe this was happening, that Sam was really going to kiss her, that she was going to let him.

  Her eyes widened as he bent toward her and his arms gathered her closer and closer. For a second, during that endless time it took for him to span the distance to her lips, she remembered the kisses she’d experienced in the past.

  Her brother had foisted dates on her a few times, buddies who came home from college with him. She generally liked people, and things usually went well until the evening ended.

  Those awkward endings. The problem of where the nose went and should she breathe or not. The general sloppiness of kissing, of someone else’s moisture on her lips, of sweaty hands raking at her clothing.

  She’d found the whole process distasteful and had refused any further help with her love life. She grimaced at the memory.

  At her frown, Sam paused. She tensed, afraid all of a sudden that he wasn’t going to kiss her, but knowing she wanted him to. She just didn’t know why.

  After that hesitation, his lips settled on hers as lightly as a butterfly on a thistle. He closed his eyes, and she was left staring at the dark lashes that outlined his eyes. She closed her eyes, too.

  She found kissing didn’t have to be awkward at all. His kiss was incredibly tender, his lips barely touching hers. He moved from one corner of her mouth to the other. It was so unbearably sweet.

  To her surprise, she found herself on tiptoe, wanting
to do something more. She wasn’t sure what. Those funny tingles that started in her throat and worked their way down her chest whenever she thought of him in a certain way, now slid hotly past her breasts and stomach until they lodged deep in her abdomen.

  Her skin became hot, too. And her bones. She melted right into him, needing his arms to keep her standing upright.

  Was this the passion of song and poem?

  She heard his slight grunt of surprise, then his arms tightened even more. His tongue swept over her lips in a circle, making them tingle in the most delicious way. Her breath moved in and out of her lungs.

  Breathing. She realized she was breathing and it felt quite normal. Except she was also quite dizzy.

  Lifting her arms, she clung to his broad shoulders. The movement shifted her breasts against him. They beaded up hard and… yes, they tingled, too, like her lips, but different.

  So many sensations assaulted her at once—the wonderful strength in his body as he wrapped his arms around her and held her closer than she’d ever been held before, the heady scent of his after-shave mingling with her own perfume that intensified as she became heated, the tantalizing knowledge that there was more to be learned.

  “Open your mouth,” he murmured against her mouth.

  She’d seen couples in movies do that. It had embarrassed her, all that ravenous mouthing, as if they were trying to take a bite out of the other person. She crimped her lips together.

  He continued to stroke her lips with his tongue, very, very lightly. It tickled. She felt a grin coming on.

  He lifted his head and gazed at her from only an inch away. His stare was fathoms deep, but amusement lurked at the corners of his mouth. She felt silly. Really, this was ridiculous.

  Finally she couldn’t stand it any longer. Her lips softened and parted into a smile. He took advantage. His lips swooped on hers, startling her.

  With sure aim, his tongue delved into her mouth.

  The effect was shocking. The tingly sensation dipped all the way down into her body. A shiver attacked her as if she had a chill. At the same time, she’d never felt so hot in her life. And her heart was racing, banging away like an engine gone berserk.