by Peggy Webb
“Molly, if you’re looking for scandal, I can oblige... right here on the dance floor.”
“Please.”
His wicked dark eyes blazed down into hers, and for a moment she thought he was going to carry through with his threat. Finally he smiled and slowly lifted her upright. Then, taking her hand, he led her toward the table.
She didn’t speak until she was seated.
“Where did you learn to dance the flamenco, Sam?”
“I dated a dance teacher once who thought it would be fun to teach me. I was hopelessly inept at the waltz and the foxtrot but I seemed to have a knack for the Latin rhythms.”
Molly felt a sudden urge to cover the dance teacher with chunky peanut butter and set her out for the birds.
“Whatever happened to the teacher?”
“She married a stockbroker who didn’t know a guitar from a goat.” Samuel reached for her hand. “I intend to marry you, you know.”
“If that’s your idea of a proposal, you have a lot to learn about romance.”
“Molly, nothing you can say or do will change my mind.” He smiled. “That was the point of the dance, wasn’t it?”
“You hate scandal.”
“You’re not scandalous.”
“Since when?”
“Since I fell in love with you.”
Where were the Dixie Virgins when she needed them? Even Robin’s chair was empty.
“Where’s Robin?”
“He left with friends shortly after you started dancing. He said to tell you he’d see you in the morning.”
“He wouldn’t leave me like that. Certainly not with someone he hardly knows. Not with a stranger.”
“I’m not a stranger, my love. I’m family... and I can be powerfully persuasive.”
Of course, she thought. Robin would have known about the family connection the minute he heard Samuel’s name. Before she left Paris, she’d told him all about going home to meet Papa’s fiancée, Glory Ethel Adams. Anyway, she had called Samuel “family” a few minutes ago. Or had it been hours? She seemed to have lost all track of time.
“Molly... Look at me, my love.” She turned back toward him and he caught her face between his hands. “There’s no need to play games with me. I won’t run away. I love you, my sweet. Don’t you know that?”
“You keep telling me that.”
“It’s true. I’m not just saying that to lure you into my bed. I want more from you, Molly. I want commitment, marriage, children.”
“I told you, I’m not the marrying kind.”
“Why not?”
“Because... I’m too young.”
Samuel could tell by the expression on her face that the reply was an evasion. He decided not to pursue the matter—at least not for a while. He released her and reached for the wine bottle.
“Would you like a glass of wine?”
“No. I’d like to go home.”
“I’ll take you. My rental car is outside.”
“Samuel, that’s the first good news I’ve heard since you arrived.”
He pulled back her chair and took her elbow. “It must be. Your smile is radiant.” He led her across the crowded club. “I’m delighted that you think going home with me is such good news.”
“That’s not the good part. The good news is that you’ll have two hands on the wheel of your rental car.”
“Only one, my sweet. And you’d be surprised what a gentleman of my experience can do with one hand.”
“I’m not a bit worried. I plan to sit as far away from you as possible.”
“You’ll change your mind.”
The City of Light came alive at night, a sprawling giant wearing a patchwork coat of light and shadow, a restless Amazon announcing its presence with raucous laughter and beeping horns and rumbling trains and staccato footsteps. Suddenly, Sam took Molly into his arms.
The move was unexpected, she was totally unprepared. She melted against him, vaguely aware of people passing by. Was he more passionate than she remembered, or was that her own heightened response? She was still reeling from their encounter on the dance floor. She supposed she could excuse her near-hussy behavior on the sidewalk by saying that she was tired and overwhelmed and too darned young to withstand the passionate advances of this handsome, experienced older man.
When he finally let her go, she brushed her hand through her hair and tried to look stern.
“My goodness. On the sidewalk, Samuel!”
He roared with laughter. “My sweet, you are a delicious fraud.” He took her elbow and helped her into his car.
She forgot all about scooting over to the other side. Samuel smiled but didn’t comment. Instead he put one arm around her shoulders and deftly maneuvered the car with the other.
She sighed and moved closer. “I’ve always loved Paris at night.”
“So do I... now.”
They didn’t speak for a while. The comfortable silence was broken by the swish of tires on the street and the occasional honking of an irate taxi driver. Molly stifled a yawn with the back of her hand.
“Sleepy, my love?” He gently urged her closer.
She put her head on his shoulder. It felt so comfortable, she decided there would be no harm in resting a while longer. Letting him chase her all the way to the alter was exhausting. Her eyelids drooped. And then she was sound asleep.
Samuel smiled down at her. “Sleep, my beautiful Venus. You’re going to need it.” He chuckled softly to himself.
He drove with one hand, cuddling Molly close with the other. He missed her apartment building the first time he drove by, and had to circle the block, but he didn’t mind. As long as he was holding Molly in his arms, he was content.
He parked at the curb and smiled down at her. Even in sleep she had that determined expression that so delighted him.
He bent over and kissed her cheek. “Wake up, my love. We’re home.”
“Hmm.” She woke slowly, stretching in an unconsciously provocative way that drove Samuel wild.
“Don’t do that, Molly.”
“What?” She turned her innocent ace to him.
He tenderly brushed her hair back from her forehead. “Never mind, love.” He helped her from the car and up the steps to her apartment.
She didn’t come fully awake until she was standing in front of the elevator. It was an old-fashioned security cage with a French door and a sliding metal grate.
“Where’s the key, my sweet?”
She blushed. “Don’t look.” Turning her back quickly, she fished inside her bra and pulled out a tiny coin purse that held her keys and enough change for a phone call and a taxi.
Samuel chuckled. “Anything in there for me?”
“Don’t you wish, you pirate!”
He steadied her hand opened the French door. Behind it, the elevator grate slid open. Molly stepped inside and leaned against the sides of the metal cage. Samuel placed his hands around her shoulders and moved in close.
“If I were a pirate, I’d simply throw you over my shoulder and take you captive.”
“You’ve already done that. Remember?”
“Only the first part.” His eyes darkened. “I was foolish not to do the second part, as well.”
His lips brushed across her cheek and down the side of her throat. Her body went liquid.
“I love you, Molly.” His open mouth traced the elegant line of her shoulder and then dipped lower to skim across the tops of her breasts.
With one hand he pulled her hips against his. Their harsh breathing combined with the creaking of cables as the ancient elevator rose to the top of the eighteenth-century apartment building.
“How will I ever tame the beast long enough to court you properly?” he murmured against the side of her throat.
At the moment, she didn’t care about being courted properly...or any other way. Samuel was doing a pretty darned good job of sweeping her off her feet.
The elevator creaked to a stop.
“T
his is my floor, Samuel.”
“Which apartment number?”
“Sixty.”
He picked her up and carried her to her door. Naked bulbs in the dimly lit hall shone down on her hair.
“You look like an angel, my sweet.”
“I’m not.”
“I’m glad.” He kissed her cheek and set her on her feet. “Where’s your key?”
“You can’t come in.”
“Molly, I have no intention of coming inside. That would be too much temptation for any man. Are you going to get the key, or shall I?” He lifted one eyebrow.
She whirled quickly and retrieved her key from its nesting place. It fit into the lock on the third try. She started to turn the doorknob, but Samuel stayed her hand.
“I’ll see you in the morning, love. Ten o’clock.”
“How do you know I’ll be here? I’m a working girl.”
“Surely not on Saturday?” Her face told him he’d guessed right. He turned, opened her apartment door, and let her in. “See you tomorrow, Venus.”
One final kiss on the cheek, and he was gone. Molly stood in the dark and wondered what she would do now.
“Do you want to turn on the light? Or shall we talk in the dark?”
She jumped at the sound. Robin rose from the sofa and flicked on a lamp. Taking Molly’s hand he led her back to the couch.
“I guessed you’d want to talk.”
Molly sank onto the cushions and put her head on her friend’s shoulder. He patted her arm.
“What in the world am I going to do, Robin?”
“I’m not one to advise, cherie, but I can listen.”
Molly sighed and stared into space for a while, and then she began to talk. “He says he loves me...and I think that’s true. He wants to marry me.”
“How do you feel, cherie?”
“Scared. Uncertain.”
“That’s not like my Molly.”
“I know. But then, I’ve never been this close to falling in love.”
“You love him?”
“I don’t know.” She bent over and buried her face in her hands. “This is awful, Robin. I’m awful.”
“No, you’re not. You’re confused.”
“That’s it.” She popped back up and settled close to Robin. “When I was in America with Daddy getting married, and Janet and Belinda so happy with their new husbands, I imagined myself flying to the altar with this really gorgeous man who made my Virginia hot!”
“I’m no expert, cherie, but I think love has to do with more than your Virginia.”
“Exactly!” Molly’s euphoria lasted all of two seconds. “Oh, but, Robin, knowing about love and being in love are two entirely different things!” She raked her hair off her hot face. “If I’m wrong about being in love with Sam, I hurt Glory Ethel and Bea, not to mention Daddy. I don’t even know if his sweet new wife would stay with him if I smashed the heart of her only son!”
“Why don’t you find out if you love him?”
“I’ve already made a horrible mess of things. What if I make an even bigger mess?”
Molly sagged against Robin, grateful that she could sit there and brood without him trying to cheer her up with unsolicited advice.
Suddenly, she popped back up. “Robin! Why didn’t I think of that sooner?”
“Judging by that wicked grin on your face, your plan must be good... and very naughty. Tell me.”
“I’m almost afraid to say it out loud. Lean close.”
He did, and she whispered in his ear.
“Of course. It’s the French way.”
“No, it’s not merely that. Don’t you see? I can find out if all these...” She made a gesture of frustration with her hands.
“Passions?”
“Yes. Without making any commitments, I can see if it’s love or just lust. I’ll still be free. And at the same time, I can find out Samuel’s true feelings.”
“No man in his right mind is going to turn down such an offer.”
She smiled. “You don’t know Samuel. When I first met him, he thought I was the most scandalous, unsuitable woman he’d ever seen. He says he’s over that, but I’m not sure.” Her smile grew bigger. “Tomorrow I’ll find out.”
“I suppose I’ll have to resign myself to sitting here alone all weekend. I won’t even know how things come out until you get back.”
She chuckled at Robin’s deadpan expression. Leaning over, she pinched his cheeks.
“You’re a great pal.”
“So are you, cherie.” He stood up and took her hand. “Bedtime. You have to look your best for tomorrow.”
o0o
The persistent sound woke Samuel. Groggily he reached for his alarm clock. When his hand came up empty, he realized that he wasn’t in Florence, Alabama; he was in Paris. And the noise wasn’t an alarm clock—it was someone knocking on his door. He fumbled in the dark for his watch. The glowing dial said eight o’clock.
“Dammit,” he muttered as he reached for his pants. “Don’t the French maids sleep?”
There was more tapping at his door, louder this time.
“Coming!” he called. He reached for his shirt and then discarded it. If the French maids insisted on barging into his room at this hour, they could very well take what they found.
His bare feet sank into the plush carpet as he made his way to the door. Latches and chains rattled, and he swung the door open.
Molly was standing in the hallway, dressed in a pert red suit and a sassy hat with a small veil.
“Good Lord! Molly!”
“Is that the same as ‘Good morning, Molly’?” He stared at her and she grinned. “Are you going to invite me in or shall we stand all day in the hallway?” She reached out and boldly ran her hands down his bare chest. “We might create a sensation.”
He stepped back from the door. “Come in.”
“Can you help me with these bags?”
“What bags?”
For the first time since he’d opened the door, he looked at something besides Molly’s smiling face and stunning figure. She was surrounded by bags, all of them red—hatboxes and hanging bags and suitcases and cosmetic cases—enough to outfit a regiment of French soldiers.
She smiled sweetly. He didn’t trust that smile for a minute. “I paid the bellboy a handsome sum to bring the bags up and then to leave without putting them into the room.” She lifted a red hatbox. “Do you mind?”
He was wide-awake now, his mind spinning with possibilities. Molly on his doorstep with her bags... She was up to devilment.
He took the hatbox and her arm at the same time. “Do come in. Make yourself comfortable.”
She marched into his hotel room like a queen making her entrance to hold court. He started whistling and bringing in bags, all the while watching her out of the corner of his eye.
First she opened the draperies to let in the light. Next she turned on three lamps. With her hands propped on her sassy hips, she surveyed the room. When she looked at the bed, she blushed and looked away quickly.
Samuel stifled a chuckle that threatened to ruin his whistling.
With all her bags inside, piled neatly in a corner of his room, he pulled out a chair.
“Sit down, my sweet.” He noticed that she seemed less sure of herself now. He was glad. Her innocence was one of the most appealing things about her. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
“This is not a visit.”
He cocked one expressive eyebrow at her. “It’s not?”
“No. I’m moving in.”
He held back his grin. “Don’t you think the room is a little small for two?”
“It will do.”
“There’s only one bed.”
“We’ll share.”
“What did you say, my love? I didn’t quite catch that.”
“We’ll both sleep in the same bed.”
“Is this a proposal, Molly? If so, I accept.”
“No. This is not a proposa
l.” She got up and began to pace the room. Her little hat slipped down over one eye and threatened to tumble off her head. She paced and paced, biting her lip and working up her courage. This wasn’t as easy as she had thought it would be. And then there was Samuel. She hadn’t known what his reaction would be. But then, Samuel always did the unexpected. She’d have to be careful. That’s all.
“I’m moving in with you, Sam... as your lover.”
“You want to have an affair?”
“Yes.”
He went so still Molly wondered if he was he going to turn her down. After all her planning, was he going to say no?
“I suppose you’re willing to start right away?” he said.
“Of course.”
Suddenly he was across the room. Without a word he lifted her hat off and sailed it toward the bed. Next he unfastened the top button of her suit. She could feel the heat of his hands all the way through her clothes. He popped the second button open, and the third. She could scarcely breathe.
“Changed your mind, my sweet?”
“No.”
“Good.” He slid her jacket from her shoulders. Underneath, her silky blouse clung to her damp skin.
“It’s awfully hot in here, don’t you think?” she said.
He almost smiled. “You need some air?”
“Please.”
“I could open a window.”
“That would be great, Sam.”
He studied her for such a long time, she thought she would hyperventilate.
“Or we could go out for some air, Molly.”
Reprieve!
“What a great idea. I love Paris in the summer, and it’s a beautiful morning.”
He smiled. “Why don’t you change into something suitable for walking while I shower?”
He whistled all the way to the bathroom. The minute the door closed behind him, she quickly opened a suitcase and pulled out shorts, a blouse and walking shoes. Her hands fumbled on the buttons of her blouse as she started undressing.
She was just tying her shoes when Samuel came out of the bathroom, still whistling. She looked up, half expecting to see him wearing nothing more than a towel, but he surprised her. He was fully dressed, wearing snug-fitting jeans and a white T-shirt. He looked virile and handsome and altogether delicious.
There were many women who would even envy her. Including all the Dixie Virgins - except Bea, of course.