The Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Molly (Book 3)

by Peggy Webb

  Whoops, gotta go! They’re calling my flight number.

  Much love,

  Molly

  o0o

  Paris and Molly embraced each other like long-lost relatives. She strolled down the Champs-Elysees, stopping to smell the flowers and to greet old friends. She renewed her acquaintance with her favorites at the Louvre—the Mona Lisa and the Venus de Milo. She attended the Comedie-Francaise and the Opera.

  She went on a redecorating binge and turned her apartment upside down. She draped the walls with peach-colored silk and arranged silk floor cushions near the window that overlooked the park. She repotted all her plants, including the huge ficus tree that had stood in the same pot for the last four years.

  Robin, her roommate, watched with an amusement that sometimes bordered on alarm.

  “Molly.” Spoken with his soft French accent, her name came out Mollee. “You make me dizzy with all this activity.”

  Molly looked up from the herbs she was planting in new hand-painted pots. “Just close your eyes, Robin, and think of all the wonderful gourmet meals you can cook using herbs from our very own windowsill herb garden.”

  “The plants look lively, the herbs sound great and the apartment walls look marvelous. It’s you I’m worried about.”

  Molly put her hands to her cheeks, forgetting the dirt and streaking her face with potting soil. “Why? Do I look sick?”

  “No. It’s not the way you look that worries me; it’s the way you act.”

  He rose gracefully from the sofa, where he had been studying a book on cubist art, and crossed the room to Molly. He took one of her hands out of the potting soil, carefully wiped it off with a nearby tea towel, and brought it to his lips. After he had kissed the hand, he stuck it back into the pot.

  “You’ve been back two weeks now, and all you’ve said about your trip home was that it was good. I’ve heard you say more about the ads on the backs of cereal boxes.”

  “Well, it was good. Do you want me to tell you it was bad?”

  “No. I want you to be your usual exuberant self. I want you to make me envy the parties you attended and long to meet the fascinating people you met.” He looked down at the small herb she was potting, frowned and straightened it, then gazed back at Molly. “Did you meet someone, cherie?”

  Molly had never lied to Robin. She saw no reason to start now. “Yes. I met someone. He’s brash and handsome and passionate and tender, and he almost stole my heart.” She laughed and waved her hand in the air. “But here I am, back in Paris with my heart intact.”

  For a moment she gazed into space, seeing a black-eyed man whose touch had turned her inside out. Out of sight, out of mind.

  Right?

  Who was she kidding?

  “Let’s do something grand tonight, Robin. Let’s go to the hottest night spot in town and be frivolous and carefree and wicked.”

  “I’d swim the Seine if it would bring back your dazzling smile. I know the perfect place.”

  “Is it wicked?”

  “It’s so wicked we could end up in jail.”

  “Good. I want to be shocking tonight. Very shocking.” Her eyes began to gleam and she set her pots aside. “Robin, do you want to come shopping with me?”

  “It’s tempting, but you’ll have to go without me, cherie. This afternoon I must work on a painting I’ve been commissioned to do.”

  She walked across the room and kissed his cheek. “Good luck.” Then she picked up her purse and started for the door.

  “You forgot something, Molly.”

  With her hand on the doorknob, she turned. “What?”

  “You forgot to wash the dirt off your face.”

  o0o

  From: Molly

  To: Bea, Janet, Belinda, Clemmie, Joanna, Catherine

  Re: Paris

  It’s great to be back in Paris. It really is! Robin and I have redone the entire apartment - well, mostly me – and I’ve shopped till my credit card is smoking. Bea, you’re going to love the boots I found, leopard print, all the way up to the knee and with 5-inch heels to die for! Sam would hate them! OMG, I didn’t mean to mention him. I’m totally putting him out of my mind!

  Molly

  P. S. Bea, have you heard anything from him?

  From: Bea

  To: Molly, Janet, Belinda, Clemmie, Joanna, Catherine

  Re: Sam

  Not a peep! But then, my brother never did let me in on his plans. To him, I’m still the younger sister. I wish! Yesterday, I think I saw a gray hair in Virginia! Is that possible? At 26? Dang, I’m going to be an old maid before Mr. Right ever comes along! I might as well get a cat!

  Bea

  From: Belinda

  To: Molly, Janet, Bea, Clemmie, Catherine, Joanna

  Re: Cat

  DON’T get a cat! The children decided they needed one so Peanut wouldn’t be lonesome, and of course, Reeve can never deny them anything, though I knew good and well what was fixing to happen. Sure enough, that dog chased that cat all over the kitchen and made such a mess, Quincy said the cat had to go or she would! When Reeve told them the cat needed a new home, Betsy and Mark cried so hard you’d think they were losing their best friend. It wasn’t until I made up a story about the cat being a princess in disguise who had to get back to her kingdom and marry a cat prince, that they let Reeve find it a new home. Thank goodness, his secretary loves cats and took it. Quincy’s still muttering about it.

  But, I got sidetracked, as usual. Molly, ignoring Sam is exactly the right thing to do. He’ll drive himself crazy wondering what you’re up to!

  Belinda

  From: Catherine

  To: Molly, Belinda, Janet, Clemmie, Bea, Joanna

  Re: Cats

  You’re giving cats a bum rap. They’re perfectly wonderful creatures who happen to know their own worth. Molly, if this man doesn’t come to his senses soon, move on. No man is worth all that agony, even if he is Bea’s brother!

  Cat

  From: Janet

  To: Molly, Belinda, Catherine, Clemmie, Bea, Joanna

  Re: Pregnant

  You’ll never believe this! I thought I was pregnant! Dan was ecstatic, but I was so relieved when it turned out to be a false positive! I have too much to do before I can even think about children!

  Molly, you probably thought you’d never hear this from me, Miss Independent, Practical and Scientific, but just follow your heart.

  Janet

  From: Clemmie

  To: Molly, Joanna, Bea, Janet, Belinda, Catherine

  Re: Travel

  Paris sounds so wonderful! If I can ever get my brothers through school, I’m going to travel. It seems I never go anywhere except church, the grocery store, or to Tupelo to visit Janet and Belinda. Oh, but that sounds whiny and discontent, and I’m neither of those things (I hope!). Anyhow, I wish you were still here Molly, but that’s selfish of me. DO follow your heart!

  Clemmie

  From: Joanna

  To: Molly, Bea, Clemmie, Janet, Belinda, Catherine

  Re: Travel

  Clemmie, come to MADRID! It would be such a wonderful break from the nuns! I’ll have Kirk get you a ticket!!! OH, DO SAY YOU’LL COME! If I have to spend one more day looking at nobody but Sister Mary Margaret and Sister Elizabeth Joseph, I’m going to THROW UP!!! Oh, I have a BRILLIANT IDEA!!! Molly, YOU come to Madrid, too! I’ve moved on from bullfighters to artists. Of course, only when the nuns are not looking! There are some really cute ones who hang out at the Prado Museum. (OMG, the ARTISTS, not the nuns!) Anyhow, I’ll fix you up, and you can forget all about that BANKER. (Sorry, Bea. Nothing personal.)

  Joanna

  From: Bea

  To: Joanna, Molly, Clemmie, Janet, Belinda, Catherine

  Re: Banker

  Banker says it all, Joanna! If I had a Texas six-shooter, I might just shoot my stubborn-ass brother!

  Bea

  o0o

  Molly hadn’t really wanted to go the nightclub on the Left Bank. It was crowded an
d noisy and poorly lit, with only a few feeble wall sconces to see by. It would serve Sam right if she fell and broke her neck.

  Still, Robin had suffered through her decorating and shopping rampages, and eaten his way through a ton popcorn while he listened to her rant and rave and moan over Samuel Adams.

  She let out a big sigh. It had been two weeks since she’d streaked off to Paris, and not a word from that maddening man! Well, he could just kiss her fancy butt!

  As much as Molly wanted to just slip quietly inside, there was no such thing. The club’s clientele were primarily artists who either knew her or had heard of her. Many of them had painted or sculpted her.

  The minute she walked in, they crowded around. Some of them even followed her to her table, then jostled for a place at her side.

  Robin paid scant attention to the chatter. He brushed his sparse brown hair back from his thin face and gazed around the room. Nervous perspiration popped out on his brow. He hoped he was doing the right thing. He scanned the club again, searching.

  There were two or three men who seemed to fit the description he’d been given over the phone, but suddenly he saw the right man. That had to be him, standing just inside the front door. He was tall and dark and he had the much-at-ease look of an American.

  Everything was going to be all right, Robin thought. Relaxed now and feeling less like a traitor, he turned his attention back to Molly.

  Across the room Samuel Adams stood just inside the club, waiting to let his eyes adjust to the dim light. His black eyes took in everything—the upright piano in the corner, the wizened guitarist seated on a stool beside the piano, the eighteenth-century walnut bar along the west side of the room, the nightclub patrons wearing such bizarre dress they might have been on their way to a costume ball.

  Suddenly he saw her. Molly. She was wearing a turquoise dress that would sober skid-row bums. It was a tightly-fitted strapless gown, slit high enough to reveal one shapely leg all the way up to her thigh.

  A man who had to be Robin was sitting beside her, watching every move she made with a mixture of fierce, almost paternal pride, and friendly concern. The other people were merely obstacles blocking Sam’s path to Molly.

  He strode across the room toward his target. The crowd at Molly’s table took one look at his face and made way for him until he was standing behind her chair. She hadn’t noticed him. Judging from the laughter of her audience, she was telling a very funny story—in French.

  Leaning down, he placed his hands on Molly’s shoulders. “Did you miss me, my sweet?”

  She didn’t miss a beat.

  “Have you been absent, Samuel? I hardly noticed.”

  “Then we should remedy that.”

  He lifted her from her chair and kissed her, not caring that they had a huge audience. It was a bold lover’s kiss, and he didn’t let her go until she’d dropped that tight-mouthed, ram-rod straight posture and went limp.

  Still, she sat back down with the unruffled elegance of woman accustomed to being pawed over by men.

  “I see you’ve learned to enjoy an audience, Samuel.”

  “Yes. They are perfect for my announcement.”

  “What announcement would that be? That you’re opening a new bank?”

  “No.” He smiled at the crowd around the table, then pulled out a chair beside Molly and draped his arm over her shoulder. “Gentlemen, she belongs to me.”

  A few understood and offered hearty congratulations before they left the table. Robin translated for those who didn’t speak English, and they left, smiling.

  When the table was empty except for the three of them, Molly turned to Samuel.

  “How dare you!”

  “Molly, I’m a busy man. I don’t have time to stand in line behind all your local suitors. I thought I’d stake my claim early.”

  “Stake your claim! I’m not a piece of property.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re a luscious, lively woman. And you’re mine.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’m here to make sure of that.”

  Molly was hot and cold all the same time, furious and ecstatic and more than a little confused.

  “How did you find me?”

  “I can explain that.” Robin spoke from the other side of the table.

  “Robin? Not you?”

  “I didn’t mean to betray you, cherie. But when he called this afternoon...”

  “While I was shopping?”

  “Oui, mon amie. He seemed such a sincere gentleman... and you had been moping.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I saw no harm in telling him where we would be tonight. I did what I thought was best for you.”

  Molly reached across the table in a quick gesture of compassion. “You always do, Robin... and there’s no harm done.” She smiled. “I can handle this.”

  “Molly,” Sam drawled, “if your smile is any indication, you’re up to devilment.”

  “Who? Me? Why, Sam, how could you think that about your very own family?”

  “How could I not? Your track record is fairly clear in that area.”

  “Then I suggest you go back to Florence. There’s no need for you to stick around and witness my little indiscretions.”

  He lifted one eyebrow. “Little indiscretions, my sweet? How many men have you tied to your bed since you returned to Paris?” Her furious blush gave him his answer. His chuckle was low and satisfied. “None? I thought not.” Leaning close, he caught her chin in his hand. “There will be no more men in your bed, Molly. Only me.”

  “I haven’t...” She bit her lip to stop her own foolish confession.

  He kissed her cheek and murmured in her ear. “I’ll be your first, Molly... and your last.”

  She couldn’t answer him until the rhythm of her heart settled down.

  “I suppose you want to get started right away.” False sweetness and hard-won dignity oozed from her like thick honey.

  He chuckled. “Not just yet, my love. I have to get over jet lag.”

  “Have you ever considered how hard it’s going to be for an old man like you to keep up with a young thing like me?”

  “I think you’ll find me more than equal to the task.”

  “Good. I wouldn’t want to hang out with somebody who would cramp my style.”

  “Hang out? Is that the same thing as making a commitment?”

  “No. It means simply that while you’re in Paris, I will consent to be seen in your company...as long as you can endure it.”

  “I think you’ll find that my endurance is exceeded only by my stubbornness. I don’t plan to let you go, Molly.”

  “I’ll make you change your mind.”

  “Are you planning to play hard to get?”

  “I’m not playing, Sam. I am hard to get.”

  Leaning back in his chair, he smiled at her. “Carry on, my sweet. I’m going to enjoy every moment of this.”

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She looked at Robin, who had been sipping his wine and avidly following their conversation. “Robin, would you be a sweetheart and ask the guitarist to play La Nina del Fuego?

  “Not The Girl of Fire. Molly, do you think this is wise?”

  “Robin, have I ever let wisdom stand in the way of wickedness?”

  There was no need to answer her question. Robin rose from the table and made his way toward the small band.

  When the first haunting strains of the Spanish music sounded, Molly rose from her chair. Looking straight at Samuel, she smoothed her dress, stroking her body with slow, sensuous movements.

  “Don’t tempt me too far, Molly.”

  “Is your endurance already wavering?”

  “No. But I’m making a remarkably quick recovery from jet lag.”

  Samuel had the satisfaction of seeing another blush stain her cheeks. Except for her high color, though, she appeared to be perfectly in control.

  She tossed her gleaming hair over her shoulder and made her way toward the small dance floor. Moving directly to center, she began
dancing. Lifting her hair above her head with both arms, almost as if she were stretching, she swayed in a lazy, undulating rhythm. The beautiful, eerie guitar music seemed to be pulsing within her.

  Samuel watched her, spellbound. Her bright hair swayed with the rhythm, and her tight dress flared, revealing her long, luscious legs. Then the music became frenzied, wild. So did Molly’s dance. Her movements were lusty and frankly sensual. A murmur rose from the crowd.

  Sweat popped out on Samuel’s brow. Need snaked sharply through him. Slowly he stood, kicking his chair aside. His muscles were tense as he walked toward the dance floor.

  Molly never broke her step. Samuel lifted one hand high in the air, and she touched it with her palm. His feet stamped the hardwood while she whirled around him, her head back, throat bared, hips almost connecting with his, and then moving away.

  A low “Ahh” sounded from the audience. The air vibrated with the sound of wild music and frenzied dancing.

  Sweat dampened Molly’s throat and trickled between her breasts. Her chest heaved with the physical exertion of the dance and her sharp awareness of Samuel. He moved with the grace and sureness of a panther, stalking his mate. His eyes were bottomless black, and his face was filled with passion.

  Molly’s breath caught in her throat as the guitarist struck his final, wailing chord. Samuel caught her around the waist with one hand and lowered her toward the floor, bending deeply over her.

  She was limp and panting.

  “I can never resist your invitations, my dear.” His own breathing was ragged, and his hot breath fanned her throat.

  She couldn’t have replied if she were being threatened by a band of cutthroat gypsies. New sensations swamped her body. If those strange and wonderful feelings were the same as those of a woman who had just arisen from her lover’s bed, she was in grave danger of ignoring the Dixie Virgins’ Rule Four.

  While the sustained chord hummed in the air, Samuel bent lower until his lips were touching her skin. .