by Susan Crosby
“Is there an outside shower?” she asked. “Or a back entrance where we can sneak in?”
There were both, but he wanted his parents to see them like this—sandy, windblown, a little sunburned. Relaxed. He wanted them to hear him laugh, to enjoy the sound as much as he had the past few days. He wanted to hear his parents laugh.
If anyone could manage that feat it would be Miss Mollie Sunshine, whose hands were clenched and whose gaze was focused unwaveringly on the house.
“Don’t get so worked up about this,” he said as he parked the car.
“I want your mother to like me.”
“I know.” He came around to her side of the car and helped her brush off the sand that had dried on her legs, wishing suddenly that he’d taken her to his hotel instead. They shouldn’t have had to cut short their day at the beach. He could’ve watched her for hours as she sifted sand between her fingers, her eyes full of wonder, her hair a fiery red under the sun, her skin flushed. She’d laughed with pure pleasure as crabs scampered across the sand and up the rocks. She’d exclaimed over seeing tiny fish swim around her ankles. If they hadn’t been so rushed she might have seen a seal or two.
He would bring her back sometime.
“Good day, Endicott,” Mollie said as they strolled through the open door.
“Miss.”
“Don’t you get Sunday off?”
“Generally so.”
“So, how come you’re here?”
“I didn’t want to miss Mr. McGuire’s visit.”
Disappointed that his parents weren’t on hand to see them arrive, Gray had been urging Mollie along, then stopped at the surprising declaration. “Thank you, Endicott,” he said. “Thank you very much.”
“I’ll tell your mother you’ll be along presently.”
“Better give us fifteen minutes.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mollie had been watching Gray’s face throughout the exchange. He was pleased at Endicott’s words. How very little it took to make him happy, she thought He was starved for personal attention, a personal touch. She could understand why, of course. If you didn’t grow up with open affection, you didn’t know how to show it. She’d touched him every chance she’d gotten at the beach, but he’d never instigated touching, always keeping his hands clenched or stuffed in his pockets, as if afraid she might reject him.
She blamed his mother for that.
“Race you to the rooms,” she said under her breath as the) reached the bottom step of the staircase.
He took off.
“Hey!” She followed as fast as she could, but he took the stairs three at a time, then disappeared down the hall before she made it to the top. He was holding her bedroom door open for her when she got there, panting.
“You—” she gasped “—cheated.”
“You’re a poor loser,” he said amiably. “Break your earlier record for changing clothes, will you? But try to look composed.”
Shaking her head, she laughed, appreciating the friendlier more open Gray. She was good for him. She wondered if he recognized that.
“You must spend a lot of time out here,” Mollie said to Gretchen as they strolled through the garden later.
“Almost every morning. I do love my flowers.” She carried her clippers and a flat basket, snipping blossoms as they walked setting the blooms atop the wicker. “You must, as well, being a florist.”
“Oh, yes. I have to use a wholesaler, but flowers from a backyard garden smell so good. I’d like to have one of my own someday.”
“How did you come to own a flower shop at so young an age?”
“My mother bought the shop when I was a baby, and I grew up there. It’s all I know how to do.”
“My son told me your mother passed away recently. Please accept my condolences.”
“Thank you.” Mollie was positive she was going to say something wrong—something to embarrass Gray—so she said as little as possible.
“My mother passed away when I was young, too. I lacked guidance after that.” She looked into the horizon. “I made mistakes.”
“Like what?” Horrified, Mollie immediately apologized. “I don’t have the right to ask you.”
“It’s quite all right, my dear. Let’s sit, shall we?”
They sat on a stone bench, surrounded by fragrant roses and warmed by the sun. Mollie glanced toward Gretchen, waiting, noting the differences between Gray’s mother and hers. Karen would have linked arms with Mollie, buried her face in the blossoms along the way, stopping to enjoy each rose bush, whereas Gretchen merely admired and snipped. Both were slender, but Gretchen seemed...brittle. Karen’s hair had once been the burnished copper of Mollie’s, then had grayed attractively. Gretchen’s champagne-colored hair didn’t reveal one softening strand of gray. Mollie didn’t have anything against hair coloring, just that the well-lacquered style only added to the woman’s brittleness.
“I was lonely,” Gretchen said at last. “I mamed a man I shouldn’t have because of that loneliness.”
“Gray’s father?”
Her expression didn’t change. “Yes.”
“Gray doesn’t speak of him. I know that he died, but that’s all.”
“I doubt Gray remembers much of him, and what he remembers is probably distorted, as children’s memories often are. James has been much more of a father to him.”
“He speaks respectfully of your husband.”
“James is largely responsible for Gray’s drive, as well as his success. He set a good example. I wish I hadn’t been in such a hurry to marry. James and I are much more suited.”
“But then you wouldn’t have Gray.”
Gretchen’s face softened. “Naturally, you’re right. And Gray is everything to me. Everything. There is much yet for him to accomplish.”
And you aren’t part of his plans. Mollie heard the words as if they’d been spoken aloud. “Mrs. McGuire, are you worried that he’s about to marry me?”
She seemed genuinely startled by the question. “Oh, no. He assures me that marriage isn’t on his agenda. I gather he feels sorry for you, because you lost your mother.”
Pity? Perhaps that was part of his feelings for her. But not all, Mollie thought. Not all. His mother hadn’t seen him playing at the beach that afternoon. Mollie had. If anyone was to be pitied, it was Gray.
“You’re young. You have so much ahead of you. The anguish of your mother’s death will fade in time. And I’m sure you’ll meet a nice man who can buy you a house where you can grow your garden.”
“And my children. At least four,” Mollie added cheerfully. If Mrs. McGuire had intended to break Mollie’s self-confidence, she’d failed miserably. Gray was the one who mattered. No one and nothing else did.
“Four? My. That would be a major undertaking.”
“I didn’t like being an only child. I want my children to have each other when something wonderful or terrible happens.” Mollie gave the woman credit. She didn’t defend her decision to have only one child. Instead she stood, tucked her arm through the basket and looked toward the house.
“The men will be ensconced in the office for hours yet. Is there something you’d like to do?”
“You will be attending the board of directors meeting next week?”
Gray heard his stepfather’s questioning tone, but understood the command that it really was. “I’ll be there.” He wandered to the window, which overlooked the backyard, and saw Mollie strolling from the house to the pool. Over her shoulder lay a towel from her bathroom—which would give his mother fits in itself. She wore a deep purple swimsuit with high-cut legs and a modest neckline. Her breasts were molded by the shimmery, almost-form-fitting fabric.
She didn’t test the water, but dropped her towel, sat on the side of the pool and slipped in. She’d told him earlier that she wasn’t a strong swimmer, so he guessed she would stay in the shallow end and splash around. Entertaining herself seemed easy for her, while he’d always needed a computer in front
of him for that.
“People have begun to express concern about how much you’re away from the office these days,” James said.
“Since I haven’t taken a vacation in fifteen years, I think ‘people’ should cut me some slack.” He watched Mollie jump up and down, joy in her face.
“I’m not concerned with what other people think, son. My concern is where you’re spending your time.”
“Minneapolis is my place of birth. I was curious.”
“It was my birthplace, as well. If you have questions...”
“Thanks, but I’m finding the answers myself.” He felt James come up beside him, so he moved away from the window, not wanting to share the view of Mollie playing in the pool. He recalled her race to be able to buy hot-fudge sundaes, then her remark that she made a good living.
He wished he could live as she did—day to day, simply, doing what he loved to do. Instead, he fit too much into each day, trying to stay abreast of every facet of McGuire Enterprises and the business world at large. There were social obligations, charity obligations, family obligations. He was tired of what his life had become.
What do you want? The question echoed and bounced. Something of my own, came the answer in a loud, clear, distinct voice.
He could hear James talking, but the words were garbled in the maelstrom in his head. He was too young to be having a midlife crisis, but he seemed to be having one of major proportions. And he didn’t believe the crisis would end until he’d avenged his father—his real father—and Mollie, too.
Gray spoke over his shoulder to his stepfather as he left the room, impolitely abrupt. “If you’ll excuse me, I see that Mollie is without company. She’s my guest, after all.” He hurried upstairs, pulled on some swim trunks, then took the servants’ staircase down to the backyard.
He found her sitting on the edge of the pool, leaning back on her hands and moving her feet leisurely through the water. She knew how to relax. Her head was tipped toward the sky, the position arching her back and thrusting her breasts upward.
She saw him coming and smiled. “All done working?”
“For now.” He sat beside her, feeling someone’s eyes on him as he did so. James’s or his mother’s? Both? He could almost hear them discussing him. “I brought you a pool towel. It’s over there with mine on the lounge chair.”
“There are towels especially for use by the pool, huh?”
“In the cabana.” He angled his head toward the glass-walled structure.
Mollie sighed.
“How was your visit with my mother?”
“Fine.”
He waited, but she said nothing more, just closed her eyes and lifted her face again to the sun. He let his gaze follow every curve and plane of her lithe body, saw her nipples tighten, as if aware of his scrutiny. She arched a little more. Her skin glowed from the sunshine pouring down on her. In his mind’s eye her suit disappeared.
Gray got hard just watching, so he slipped into the pool. Lap after lap he swam, not counting how many times he turned and pushed off, not caring, fed up with holding back his need for her, wishing he didn’t know everything he knew about her—and glad that he did.
He pushed off again, stronger, swifter, remembering the look on his stepfather’s face when he reminded Gray of his responsibilities. As if he were the royal heir to the throne.
He was heir to a different throne, one he wanted so badly he was willing to go public with accusations against one of the country’s most sterling citizens, accusations of professional thievery and personal immorality against a man who would have the full support of the powerful Fortune family.
Gray chopped the water with a hypnotic windmill of arms. His legs burned. He focused on the pain, as relentless as his need to feel it. Another lap. One more. Oblivion could be reached eventually He crashed into something. Not the wall. Something soft.
Hands cupped his shoulders, imprisoning him.
“Stop,” Mollie said softly, her mouth close to his ear. “Just stop ” She felt his body go limp, then his feet touch bottom. He was the most complicated person she knew, locking so much mside himself. What demon drove him? Had his father said something to upset him? Did he disapprove of Mollie, too, like his mother?
“Sorry,” Gray said, shifting so that he rested his back against the side of the pool, next to her, his breathing short and shallow.
“Don’t apologize. Not to me.” She angled toward him, wanting to distract him. Be fearless, she told herself. “Your body is perfect.”
He made a noise as if denying her words.
“You could be a model,” she insisted. “An underwear model.”
His laugh came out ragged, but at least he laughed. He ran a hand through his hair, shoving it back.
“It’s true. Your face is really interesting. Your shoulders are broad. Your chest is, um, well, it’s incredible. You’ve got amazingly narrow hips and gorgeous, long legs. And you’re not hairy.”
He really laughed then, sinking mto the water, making bubbles as he drifted all the way under before coming slowly back up, his eyes alight with humor. “I guess I’m glad you noticed.”
“I’ve been noticing from the moment you stepped into my shop.”
“So have I. Been noticing you, that is.”
If they entered into a more intimate relationship, would that ruin everything? she wondered. Would he fire her as the party planner if they stopped being—dare she say it?—lovers? The party was inconsequential in comparison.
“Excuse me, sir. Miss.”
She hadn’t seen or heard Endicott approach, but Gray didn’t show any signs of being surprised.
“Yes, Endicott?” he asked.
“I’m to remind you that dinner is at seven, sir.”
“What time is it now?”
“Five past six.”
“Thank you. We’ll be on time.”
Mollie winked at the stiff-backed butler. “He’s afraid she’ll ground him.”
“Yes, miss.” Endicott bowed, then left.
“He winked at me,” Mollie said as she climbed the steps out of the pool.
“Endicott did?”
“Uh-huh. You had to be looking closely.”
“More closely than I was, I guess.” He swept the towels off the lounge chair and laid one over Mollie’s shoulders.
She tugged it closer, then sighed. “I don’t suppose we’ll be spending the evening playing charades with your parents.”
“I don’t suppose.”
“What will we do?”
“Plead exhaustion from jet lag and retire early.” He rubbed himself with his towel, then crouched in front of her and dried her legs.
Speechless for a moment, she laid a hand on his shoulder for balance. “How early?”
“Shall we synchronize our watches? How about nine o’clock?”
“Do you think they’ll decide we’ve gone to bed early so that we can, you know, sleep together?”
Gray heard the strain in her voice. She needed to know his intentions. He’d been vague with her, because so little was clear to him. He stood. “You have a vivid imagination, Mollie Shaw.”
“I’m putting two and two together, as I think they will.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth. “We haven’t even kissed.”
“Feel free to correct that situation.”
He touched a finger to her chin and angled his head, moving closer—
A quiet clearing of someone’s throat intruded into the anticipation. They looked toward the house at the same time. Endicott pointed to his watch, then disappeared through the doorway
“Our guardian angel,” Mollie said.
“Our Lucifer,” Gray muttered.
Eight
Doused with a fresh spritz of perfume, Mollie waited an hour after they retired to their rooms before she finally gave up on Gray and went to bed. No knock on the adjoining door made her heart kick into overdrive. No turn of the handle sent her stomach somersaulting. She waited for a fir
st kiss that never came. Apparently she would be made to wait until his next visit to Minneapolis, since the plan was for her to take a commercial flight home the next night, alone.
She closed her eyes, tired enough to sleep, but letting the anticipation drain from her mind and body. After a while she felt herself drifting Floating. Falling...
Click. The latch of a doorknob stopped her mid-flight. She kept her eyes closed, sensing him moving closer, but not hearing him. After a minute he pulled the sheet over her shoulders and tucked the fabric around her. She rolled onto her back, seeing him easily in the moon glow through her window. He wore sweatpants, but his chest was bare.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I was awake.”
He sat beside her.
Freeing an arm from under the sheet, she wrapped her hand around his wrist. “Can’t you sleep?” She sat up, knowing her nightgown covered her as completely as a T-shirt. He couldn’t accuse her of tempting him.
He shook his head. “I haven’t been in this house for more than a few hours at a time since I moved out more than ten years ago. I had forgotten how silent it is.”
Silent. An interesting word choice, Mollie thought. Most people would have said quiet. “Your parents seem very settled”
“They’ve always been settled. No ups. No downs. No anger. No joy. Keep it cool. Stay calm. Be polite. I didn’t remember that until I brought you into it. And the reason I noticed is because being here changed you.”
“In what way?”
“Your brightness output dimmed.”
“I can’t say I’ve been completely at ease, Gray, but I haven’t felt stifled. You seem to be testing them, though. Seeing how far you can go.”
“Like some teenager,” he said, pushing himself off the bed, moving toward the window.
“You’re on a quest.”
“Is that a nice way of saying I’ve gone crazy?”