The Groom's Revenge

by Susan Crosby

  She glanced toward Gray as he rested his back against a tree and watched some children play nearby, hollering and laughing, bringing a smile to his face. She wondered how rare it was for him to relax. He took a sip of wine, then stretched his arm across his upraised knee, letting the half-full wineglass dangle from his fingers. His eyes closed.

  Mollie closed hers, as well, feeling the warm evening drift over her.

  “You’re easy to be with,” he said after a while.

  She stirred, rolling to her side and propping her head on her hand. His words answered a question she’d been pondering—why did a man with his many responsibilities have so much time to spend with her? Answer? Because she didn’t demand anything from him.

  “I suppose people always want something from you.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Ever thought about changing your life?”

  It took him a few seconds to answer. “Now and then.”

  “What brings you to the Twin Cities?”

  “I’m considering acquiring a company here.”

  “Acquiring, as in buying it? Or taking over?” She regretted asking the questions, because he lost his contented look.

  “Whatever works.”

  “Yet you have time to teach me computers.”

  “Not a hardship, I assure you,” he said He slid down to stretch out beside her, facing her. “You’re the best kind of student”

  “What kind is that?”

  “Balky.”

  “Me? Why, Mr. McGuire, I’m the easiest-going woman you’d ever hope to meet.”

  “Balky,” he repeated, matter of fact

  “Well, you’re pushy.”

  “Only when I know I’m right” He refilled her wineglass, then looked at her. “I’m going home tomorrow.”

  Her heart skipped. “Will you be back?”

  He nodded. “In the meantime—”

  “I know. We’ll e-mail.” She wondered if he had hair on his chest. She wondered what he would do if she pressed her mouth to that tempting vee of tanned flesh revealed by his open collar.

  “I may even call you,” he said.

  “Be still my heart.” She thumped her fist between her breasts, watching his gaze drop, then linger, even after she let her arm rest on the blanket again. Her body tingled as much as it had in her apartment. And all he’d done was look.

  A tiny leaf swirled down, landing on his head. She resisted the temptation to brush it away, because she liked how it looked against his hair—and because he didn’t seem comfortable being touched. Touch was one of the things she missed most these days. She and her mother had hugged every day. Every single day.

  “We should probably get back to your place and start working,” he said, sitting up.

  Gray had just put the first container into the cooler when he sensed her inching toward him. She lifted her hand. He went still. Her fingers brushed his hair, then she held a small leaf for him to see.

  “It landed on you a while ago.”

  His reaction was ridiculous—getting aroused by a touch so faint it was hardly worth calling it that A whisper of contact, no more.

  “Thanks,” he murmured, tossing the rest of their stuff into the cooler, then jamming it shut.

  “My mom and I used to picnic here a lot,” she said, a catch in her voice. “I’ve been back since, but this is the first real picnic.”

  He looked at her. She gazed into the distance.

  “At times like this, I miss her so much I can hardly breathe.”

  He clenched his teeth until his jaw hurt. “I thought I’d never get over my father’s death,” he said, the memories slamming into him. He hadn’t talked about his father in so long. So very long. “Nothing ever replaced him.”

  “No. Nothing could. But maybe having a family of your own would help?”

  He hesitated. That was her dream, not his. Family life hadn’t amounted to much. But he appeased Mollie, anyway. “Maybe,” he said.

  “I want a family of my own so much I can taste it.”

  Her words didn’t surprise him, but brought anger instead. She had a family, one that had ignored her all these years. She should have had their support, their love.

  The list of crimes against Stuart Fortune grew longer.

  “One last thing to show you,” Gray said three hours later. He closed the screen, then opened another. “Here’s your dictionary.”

  “I think it would be easier to use the real thing,” she said. “It’s two feet away.”

  “Not if you’re already on-line. Here. Let’s look up something.” He typed the word leprechaun. “ ‘One of a race of elves in Irish folklore who can reveal hidden treasure to someone who catches him,’ ” he read. “One who screeches,” he added with a smile at Mollie.

  “Yarg doesn’t screech, he shrieks. There’s a difference, you know.”

  “Yarg. What kind of name is that, anyway?”

  She didn’t answer right away. He took his gaze off the screen and saw her face pinken.

  “Celtic,” she said, her voice strange.

  “Do you want to look it up?”

  “No!” She laughed a little. “I mean, I’ve had about as many lessons as I can take in one night.” She straightened the papers beside the computer. “Do you still think I’m the best kind of student?”

  “Sure. Why?”

  “You have more patience than anyone I’ve ever known.”

  “Did you expect to be an expert after only a few hours?”

  “I hate the learning process,” she grumbled. “I feel stupid.”

  “Which you aren’t. And it’s been valuable for me, teaching you. I can see where we need to clarify the instructions in the manual for the novice user. The jargon slows you down, yet ours is supposed to be the most user-friendly system on the market.” He stood and stretched. He had to leave now, before sitting so close to her made him do something he would regret—like kiss her. It was bad enough he’d spent the past few hours adrift in her fragrance and distracted by the appealing frown of concentration on her face, the memory of her touch washing over him like gentle waves.

  “Be fearless, Mollie. I’ve saved everything to floppy disks, so even if you mess something up, you won’t lose it entirely. The problem is that until you get a second phone line, I can’t talk you through anything.”

  Her gaze was leveled directly at his mouth.

  “Did you hear me?” he asked.

  Visibly startled, she raised her eyes to his, then she stood. “I’ll be fearless. And I’ll master this by the time you come back. When do you think that might be?”

  “It depends on how much has piled up at home and how quickly things transpire with the business here.” He extended his hand to her. “Goodbye for now.”

  She hesitated, slipped her hand into his, then didn’t let go. “This is a lot to ask,” she said quietly, “but I would really like to hug you goodbye. I know we have a business relationship, but I feel so close to you tonight Our talk about my mother and your father and—”

  He pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her, feeling her arms come around his back and hold tight. She burrowed closer, pressing her face into his neck so that he could feel her breath, warm and unsteady against his skin.

  “Don’t let go,” she whispered.

  He didn’t move his hands, although he wanted to soothe and comfort. To explore and arouse. To satisfy. Himself and her. Would she disappear if he did? Fly away on fairy wings?

  She murmured his name. He heard the emotion behind it, the need that mirrored his. But there was too much at stake to respond to her needs or his own. The risks were high enough without adding to them.

  “I’ll be in touch,” he said, pushing away from her, not looking back as he hurried down the stairs, then to the front door.

  He turned the dead bolt, twisted the doorknob and pulled.

  “Thanks for everything,” she said from behind him. She’d followed like a comet’s tail—undoubtedly to lock up a
fter he left.

  Nothing in his life had prepared him for Mollie Shaw.

  He’d never known anyone like her, and probably never would again. He could barely remember being as trusting as she, as vulnerable. Yet once upon a time, he had been. The memory of that innocence made him hesitate now.

  He started to turn. His foot bumped against something—The screeching leprechaun, silent now, his switch turned off, but oddly a reminder of his responsibilities to the young woman who waited, quiet and patient. The woman who surrounded herself with elves and fairies and other bits of magic. She’d known love. In that she was richer than he.

  The glow of a streetlamp illuminated her face. She smiled, the warmth filling her eyes. Again came the fleeting feeling she might fade away.

  “You’re a hard woman to resist,” he said, sliding his hands in his pockets.

  A few beats passed before she responded. “I hope you’re not waiting for an apology. That would be a logical expectation, of course, but logic is only one component of my database.”

  The spell was broken. “I love it when you talk techno,” he said.

  Mollie laughed. She cupped his arm, letting her thumb slide under his shirtsleeve to caress his skin, the muscles bunching beneath. She wondered why he felt he had to resist her, but she didn’t ask. For now, it was enough that the attraction was mutual. “Have a safe flight home, Gray.”

  He nodded, then he was gone.

  She lingered at the front window until he drove out of sight, then she danced up the stairs and pirouetted into the bathroom to run a bath. She couldn’t stop smiling. She, Mollie Shaw of Minneapolis, Minnesota, was a hard woman to resist! Mollie laughed at the idea. While soaking in the tub, however, she considered his words a little more seriously.

  What had she learned about him? What could make it hard for him to resist her?

  Hmm. He seemed to be much more of a loner than she would have thought, given his important job and his worldwide recognition. Maybe because of it? Definitely a possibility.

  What else? People generally wanted something from him, he’d admitted. But he found her easy to be with.

  She would like to see him in action, in his own environment, so that she could compare him to the man she was coming to know and care about, beyond the surface of photos and news articles. He could spend three hours never crossing the line between teacher and student, then with one simple sentence, send her impression of him spinning. “You’re a hard woman to resist.” Those words clung to her heart. They would for a long time.

  After climbing out of the tub she dressed in a cool summer nightie, then folded back her bedding and slid under the sheet. A few seconds later she plopped herself in front of the computer. Maybe he’d sent her an e-mail.

  No mail.

  Disappointment made her shoulders droop. She wondered how pushy she should be with him, given that he liked that she didn’t push him. On the other hand, she didn’t want to be passive in this relationship, either.

  Relationship. The word swirled, settled. She pressed her shoulders back and set her fingertips on the keyboard.

  From MollieS: “I’ll miss you. Hurry back. M.” She hit the Send key, then swallowed her panic at what she’d done.

  He responded in a flash. From GKMcGuire: “Come with me.”

  Mollie straightened in her chair and read the words several times. Her fingers shook. From MollieS: “Why?”

  From GKMcGuire: “You should meet my parents, so thai you can get an idea of what kind of party to plan.”

  From MollieS: “I have to work.”

  From GKMcGuire: “You don’t work seven days a week.”

  She glanced at the telephone. Something this important needed to be discussed, not electronically communicated. And yet he seemed to open up with her more in this forum.

  From MollieS: “I do the altar flowers for three churches or Sunday morning. The store reopens on Tuesday morning at 10:00, but I have to be here by 8:00 for a delivery.”

  From GKMcGuire: “Which is plenty of time. Say yes. I’ll cancel my flight for tomorrow and have the company jet sent tc pick us up on Sunday morning, at whatever time you can make it. You’ll be back in time on Tuesday.”

  Tiresomely sensible. The label she’d given herself echoed in her head. She wanted adventure, and Gray was offering it. A trip to California. The chance to meet his family.

  The chance to spend a lot of time alone with him. On a private jet. No other passengers or flight attendants or anyone. Just them For hours. Could he resist her for that long?

  From MollieS: “Okay.” She hit Send, then covered her face with her hands. What had she done? She didn’t have the right clothes to wear. She couldn’t afford new ones, even if she had time to shop. She was going to meet his parents.

  From GKMcGuire: “Great. We can’t tell them you’re the party planner, because I think I’m going to keep it a surprise.”

  From MollieS: “So, who am I?”

  From GKMcGuire: “My lover?”

  From MollieS: “Right. I’m sure your mother will take one look at me and decide to be worried I was tainting her baby boy.”

  Gray tried to picture his mother’s reaction. Actually, Mollie was exactly the kind of woman his mother would worry about He hadn’t brought many women home, but the ones he had finaly into the McGuire expectation of sophistication and status. Mollie broke that mold with a clean karate chop down the middle.

  From GKMcGuire: “I don’t live with my parents, but we’ll stay with them since the time is limited. They will make assumptions, but they won’t expect us to sleep in the same room. Can you manage that small lie comfortably? Naturally at the party we’ll clue them in on your role.”

  From MollieS: “If you honestly believe they’ll think I’m your girlfriend, I’ll be happy to play my part.”

  From GKMcGuire: “Then it’s settled. I’ll drop by the shop tomorrow and we’ll discuss details. I don’t want you to worry. You’ll fit in better than you think. G.”

  He stayed on-line several minutes, in case she had something else to ask, but she didn’t. She was probably standing at her open closet, stewing about what to wear. If he thought she would accept the gift, he would take her shopping after work, but he understood and admired her pride. He wouldn’t put her on the spot by offering.

  In the meantime he had to cancel a flight, order the company yet and invite himself and Mollie to stay with his parents, not rusting himself to take her to his apartment. The first two could be handled by computer. The third could, as well, but he picked up the phone instead, glancing at the clock, determining it was 9:30 p.m. in California.

  “Good evening, Endicott,” Gray said when the butler answered phone. “Is my mother at home?”

  “Of course, Mr. McGuire. Please hold.”

  “Hello, darling. What a nice surprise.” Gretchen McGuire’s voice never varied in pitch. Happy or distressed, she sounded velvety smooth. “Have you come home?”

  He touched a red-stained Popsicle stick to his mouth. Home. He wondered where that was, exactly.

  Five

  Mollie glanced over her shoulder at the three women who were “Just looking, thank you” a little after noon the next day. She was exhausted and energized at the same time, having stayed up until almost 2:00 a.m. sorting through her clothes, trying to come up with a few outfits to wear on the trip. If she could get to the mall right after work, she could pick up a new pair of sandals plus an off-white cotton blazer that would dress up anything.

  “Oh, how darling!” one woman exclaimed, lifting down a vine basket Mollie had decorated with dried roses and strawflowers on the outside instead of the inside. A wire-trimmed ribbon the color of the roses brightened the whole package She’d come up with the idea last month and had sold twenty of them, each a little different from the next.

  Gray had won one at the ball, she remembered. He’d found her because of it.

  The woman set the basket on the counter in front of Mollie “I’d like three more
of these, two with yellow roses, if you can.”

  “How soon do you need them?” Mollie asked. “I’ve got pink roses on hand, but I’ll have to order the yellow.”

  “For next weekend. Is that possible?”

  “No problem. I can have them ready Friday morning. Would you like them exactly alike in style or should I be creative?”

  “Oh, can you individualize them? I didn’t realize you made them yourself.”

  Mollie assured her she did, then she wrote down the order before ringing up the one basket for her to take. As she and her friends went out the door, Kelly Sinclair Fortune came in, her five-month-old daughter, Annie, squirming and giggling in her arms.

  “Here’s my sweet baby girl,” Mollie cooed as she reached for the smiling, drooling infant, a blue-eyed blonde just like her mom. “You actually left your honeymoon haven to come see me, Kel?”

  “Can’t eat dessert all day,” Kelly said, “no matter how scrumptious it is.”

  “Your steady consumption of dessert, as you call it, must be nonfat. You’re down to prebaby form. Obviously, you’re loving married life.”

  “Loving is such a mild word for what I feel, Mol. You’ve just got to try it for yourself.” She handed the baby a teething ring. “She’s going to drool all over you.”

  Marriage did agree with Kelly, Mollie decided, never having seen her so radiant. Five years older than Mollie, Kelly had been first her baby-sitter and then her friend, a relationship cemented by the commonalities of having single mothers and growing up in the same neighborhood.

  “I fully intend to try marriage someday,” Mollie said, coming nose to nose with Annie, who dropped the teething ring to tug Mollie’s hair into her mouth. “And having a few of these little precious gems.”

  “She’s a wonder.” Kelly plunked the diaper bag on the counter, then scooped up the teething ring. “So, what’s happening with you? You never call. You haven’t once accepted my invitation for Sunday dinner with Mac and Annie and me. I’m worried about you.”