Heavenly Match

by Sharon DeVita

  “Still—” Her voice froze. Where on earth was her resolve? More importantly, where on earth was her tongue? Somehow she had to find the courage to set him straight. Gently she pulled her chin free. “Jonathan, I just think it might be better not to get involved right now.” She managed a casual tone, even though her pulse was doing a tango.

  Jonathan sighed and rolled over on his back. He tucked his arms under his head and watched the clouds roll across the sky. “All right, Molly. If that’s what you want.”

  His easy agreement was not quite what she expected and Molly eyed him suspiciously. She had lived with her aunt long enough to know when she was being led down the garden path.

  “There’s just one small problem, though.” Jonathan turned his head to her. His lips were curved mischievously.

  “Problem?” Molly frowned as a cloud of blankness settled over her. The feeling that Jonathan was up to something grew stronger. “What kind of problem?”

  “Well, it seems to me that I promised your aunt I’d help her with the senior center. I’m a man of my word, Molly.” His tone was serious, but she could see the faint laugh lines crinkling around his eyes.

  “Jonathan, what has that got to do with me?” Her frown deepened.

  “Well, if I’m to get anywhere in the little time that I’ll be home, I’m going to need some help. I haven’t lived here in a long time, Molly, and all the research that will be necessary could take days or even weeks unless I have some help. You know, Molly, someone who lives here and knows the area.” He smiled innocently.

  As casually as she could manage, she asked, “But certainly you must have secretaries to do that sort of thing?”

  “Nope.” His smile widened.

  “Clerks?” she asked hopefully.

  He shook his head happily. “Not a one.”

  “Anyone?” she croaked.

  “Afraid not,” he returned gleefully. “And, Molly, if I have to employ temporary help, who knows how much it would cost.” He flashed her a triumphant smile, and her face fell.

  “Did you have someone in mind?” she asked, wondering if she looked as dumb as she felt.

  Jonathan was thoughtful. “Well, to tell you the truth, I was hoping for a volunteer. Unless of course you want me to tell your aunt that I couldn’t help her because no one would help me.”

  Had he been taking lessons from Aunt Emily? she wondered dismally.

  “Then, of course,” he continued, struggling to keep a straight face, “there is the small matter of the two hundred dollars.”

  “Two hundred dollars?” she echoed faintly.

  “Yes, I do believe that was the amount of Aunt Emily’s bail. I’d be more than happy to verify the amount with Sheriff Pritchard if you like,” he offered helpfully.

  Molly groaned softly. The bail money! She hadn’t even given it a thought. She’d been too wrapped up in her feelings about Jonathan to pay much attention to reality.

  “I completely forgot about that,” she returned sheepishly. Mentally she quickly calculated her bank balance and found it came out dismally short.

  Molly silently cursed herself. Instead of daydreaming about Jonathan, she should have been trying to figure out a way to pay him back the money she owed him.

  “Molly!” Jonathan’s voice was scandalized. “Surely you don’t want me to think you’re the kind of woman who accepts a large sum of money from a man on a date and then tells him you don’t want to see him again?”

  “Jonathan Kent,” she said with mock reproach, “you know very well that’s not the way it was.”

  “Now, Molly, I know that.” He sighed deeply and shook his head in an exaggerated gesture. “But someone else just might get the wrong idea. This is a small town, and people might talk.” He clucked sympathetically. “Just think of what it could do to your reputation! On the other hand, if you were to volunteer to help me with the senior center, why, I think we could call that fair restitution of the debt.”

  Looking at him, Molly realized he had successfully backed her into a corner and was taking full advantage of the situation. And enjoying himself immensely. Despite her misgivings about the man, she was flattered to think that he would go to such lengths to see her again. And she was certain that that was exactly what was behind this charade.

  “Jonathan Kent—” she shook her finger at him “—that sounds suspiciously like blackmail!”

  “I know.”

  “You should be ashamed of yourself,” she scolded good-humoredly.

  “I should be, but I’m not.” He grinned. “Come on, Molly, what do you say? Is it a deal?” He looked so jubilant that suspicion clouded her eyes. She was out of her league, she realized suddenly. Jonathan Kent had an answer to everything, including questions she hadn’t even asked yet! Molly wasn’t at all certain that she could handle this man.

  “Come here, girl,” he commanded softly, grabbing her arm and tumbling her to the blanket. His body brushed against hers, sapping at her strength. She inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of him. He smelled so fresh, so masculine, that her pulse quivered in unspoken fear.

  “J-Jonathan,” she whispered, raising her hands to his chest. Through his shirt, she felt the warmth of his skin and the quick beat of his heart. Her senses went on red alert, warning her of the danger of having him so near.

  Her tongue seemed paralyzed, a condition that was rapidly becoming a habit whenever Jonathan was around. She offered no protest as he lifted his hand to explore the contours of her face. An unwelcome surge of excitement warmed her. Jonathan’s fingers, light as a feather, traced the outline of her mouth, and Molly held her breath in eager anticipation. A knot formed in the back of her throat as she watched his mouth lower toward hers. He glanced against her lips briefly, as if testing her resistance. Finding none, he buffeted her mouth with soft kisses.

  Molly closed her eyes. She had to stop this. She had to stop him. Corralling her scattering thoughts, Molly tried again. “J-Jonathan,” she began breathlessly. “I think…I think it’s important that we talk.” Her eyes met his in desperate appeal.

  “Talk? I thought that’s what we were doing. All right, if you’d like to talk, we’ll talk.” Jonathan once again directed his attention to her mouth, which at the moment was hanging open. “Did you know I’ve always had a weakness for strawberry ice cream and beautiful brunettes? Not necessarily in that order, of course.” Dipping his head, he dropped a gentle kiss on the hollow of her collarbone. Molly shifted, trying to evade his seeking lips. “And did you know that you have the most charming dimple right here on your chin?” His finger skipped over the spot, and her pulse reacted immediately, fluttering in passionate response.

  “Did you also know that last night at dinner you ate your parsley garnish? I’ve never actually seen anyone do that, Molly. I was quite impressed.” His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “I think I was hooked from that very moment.”

  He lowered his mouth slowly onto hers, and Molly’s senses exploded in pleasure. His lips worked over hers with devastating leisureliness, and Molly responded— much to her annoyance.

  She shifted her weight, trying to put some distance between them, but she succeeded only in molding herself more closely against him. Need soared through her, spiraling her into a world of exquisite delight. Her body tingled with awareness. When Jonathan kissed her, touched her or was even near her, she felt heady and breathless, almost as if she were in a falling elevator.

  “Molly?” Jonathan slid his lips from hers and spoke against her cheek. “Don’t look now, but I think we’re the afternoon attraction.” Molly blinked rapidly, trying to come back down to earth. Swallowing hard against a ridiculously racing pulse, she raised her eyes and gasped. The Simpson twins!

  “Hello, Miss Maguire.” They giggled in unison. Wide-eyed, the two stood at the edge of the blanket. Judging from the looks on their faces, they were enjoying the show.

  With a barely muffled groan, Molly pushed Jonathan away and sat up, struggling to straighten her clo
thes in the process. She tried to pretend she was in total control, but her hands were shaking, to say nothing of her heart.

  “Hello, children,” she said, fussily smoothing back her hair and cursing the surge of heat that coursed into her cheeks.

  Identical from their mops of golden curls to the gap each had between their two front teeth, the six-year-old twins poked each other and giggled. “Hi,” they repeated, taking a step closer to inspect Jonathan.

  “Hi, kids,” he caroled brightly. “We’re having a picnic. Want to join us?” Molly turned to glare at him, but he paid no heed. “We’ve got fried chicken and potato salad, and I think we’ve even got some homemade apple pie.” Jonathan started digging through the containers of food, totally oblivious of Molly’s discomfort.

  “No thank you, sir,” Mark returned, shaking his blond head. “We have to get going. We’re late for dinner.” He grabbed his sister’s arm and tried to drag her away, but Martha seemed more interested in Jonathan than in going home for dinner.

  “Martha,” Mark growled, grabbing his sister’s arm and giving it a good tug. “Come on! We’re late. Good night Miss Maguire,” he said politely. Martha just grinned. Her eyes were pinned to Jonathan. Molly knew how she felt. It was hard to pay attention to anything else with Jonathan around. Obviously even kindergarteners weren’t immune to the man’s charms.

  With a final tug, Mark managed to get his sister moving. But Martha kept looking back at them, an impish smile on her six-year-old face.

  “Cute kids,” Jonathan commented, peeking at the food.

  Molly turned to stare at him. Cute kids? Cute kids! That was all he had to say? How could the man sit there so calmly? She was still reeling from the impact of his kiss.

  Another thought crowded her mind and she swallowed a moan. The twins! No doubt they had raced home to report that they had caught their teacher wrestling around on a blanket with a strange man in the park. Molly lifted her shoulders and sighed. Mrs. Simpson, the twins’ mother, wasn’t known as Cyanide Simpson because of her charitable disposition or her sweet tongue. If the whole town didn’t already know that she and Jonathan had been caught necking in the park, they would by morning if Mrs. Simpson had her way.

  “Something wrong, Molly? You’ve got that frown again.” Jonathan looked at her curiously, his eyes darkened in concentration.

  Molly squared her shoulders and struggled to clear her muddled thoughts. Now that she had Jonathan’s full attention, she had to set him straight, once and for all. The entire situation was getting out of hand.

  Turning to him, she did her best to ignore his bright smile. It was time for her to be strong. “Jonathan, we’ve got to get a few things straight.” Molly forced herself to meet his glittering gaze and nearly lost her courage. She rushed on. “I’m sorry about the bail money. I really did forget about it. I’ll be more than happy to help you with the senior center. After all, you are doing it for my aunt.” Jonathan opened his mouth to speak, but Molly lifted her hand. She had to get the words out now before she lost what little courage she had left. “Please, let me finish. I think you should know that I’ll agree to this on the condition that we remain strictly friends.” She twisted the edge of the blanket, mentally forming the words she would need to counter the protest she was certain would be forthcoming.

  Jonathan shrugged and smiled. “Sounds good to me.”

  Molly’s mouth fell open and she nearly choked. Jonathan never failed to surprise her. His ready agreement was the last thing she’d expected. Was he up to something else? she wondered, watching him through narrowed eyes.

  He rocked back and grinned at her. “I’ve got just one more question, Molly.”

  One perfectly arched brow rose. Here it comes, she thought. “What’s that?”

  “Can we eat now? I’m starving.”

  Chapter Six

  More chicken?” Molly asked, wiping her hands on a napkin.

  Jonathan groaned and rubbed his stomach. “I couldn’t eat another bite, Molly. You’re a great cook.” A satisfied smile lifted his lips.

  Molly smiled back and she basked in the warmth of his compliment. Jonathan had a terrific appetite, though she wondered where on earth he put all that food. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on the man anywhere. She knew, for she had been carefully checking him out all evening.

  Jonathan settled himself comfortably on the blanket. “I can’t wait to discover your other hidden talents,” he drawled softly as he helped himself to another glass of lemonade.

  Molly smiled. “I don’t have any hidden talents,” she insisted, taking the refill of lemonade he offered. His fingers brushed hers, and instinctively she pulled back her hand, but not before a warm tingle skated up her arm. “Unless you count being able to understand Aunt Emily.”

  Jonathan laughed. “Come on, Molly, don’t be modest,” he coaxed. “You’re a beautiful woman, great company and a terrific cook. There must be more to Molly Margaret Maguire than that.” His gaze slid slowly over her, and she felt herself stiffen at the surge of heat that burst through her senses. When he looked at her like that, she felt all…addled.

  “How do you know my middle name?” she asked suspiciously. She didn’t remember telling him all that much about herself, and certainly hadn’t told him her middle name. She rarely told anyone her middle name.

  “Ahhh,” he drawled, managing a pretty good leer. “I know a great deal about the woman named Molly Margaret Maguire. But not nearly as much as I’d like,” he finished seriously.

  Molly studied the expression on his face, and her heart pumped just a bit faster. “Jonathan.” She sighed in exasperation. The man was impossible. “I thought we agreed, just friends, remember?”

  He held up his hand to silence her. “We did agree, but as your friend, aren’t I entitled to know a little more about you?” He was giving her one of those innocent smiles again, and Molly wondered if she was being just a bit touchy.

  “What would you like to know?” she asked, groping for a light, friendly tone.

  Folding his arms behind his head, he turned to study her intently. Molly wished his all-encompassing attention wasn’t focused so much on her. “Well, for starters, do you like children?”

  “Children?” She laughed. He was off in another direction again. That wasn’t exactly the kind of question she’d expected and a relieved sigh escaped her. At least they seemed to finally be on neutral ground. “Yes, I adore children. I guess that’s why I became a teacher. I’ve got twenty more just like the Simpson twins in my kindergarten class. Not all twins, of course.”

  “Sounds like you enjoy your work.”

  Molly smiled. “I love it.”

  His eyes roamed over her again, settling on her mouth, and Molly had the distinct feeling she had just experienced the softest whisper of a kiss.

  “You love your work? And you love children?” She nodded. Jonathan seemed to be taking her comments under advisement. “Then why haven’t you ever married?”

  Her smile faded and a flutter of tension stiffened her spine. Jonathan’s choice of subject matter seemed to come from left field. He jumped from subject to subject without any rhyme or reason. Was it to keep her off balance? she wondered. What her work and her students had to do with marriage, she’d never know. And she wasn’t about to ask. Every time she thought they were on safe ground once again, Jonathan would drop the floor out from under her by introducing a new and usually touchy subject.

  Standing abruptly, she brushed off her jeans. “Let’s go for a walk, shall we?”

  Jonathan uncoiled himself and rose to his feet. “Anything you say.” He swung into step beside her and firmly took her hand in his.

  With a determined effort, Molly ignored the forced closeness and kept her voice steady and impersonal. “The park is really beautiful this time of year,” she commented as they made their way down a narrow shrub-lined path. “This is my favorite time of year,” she remarked quietly. “The flowers are just beginning to blossom, and the grass is fi
nally green again after the long cold winter.”

  “Got anything nice to say about the dirt?” Jonathan bent and picked up a handful, letting it drift slowly through his fingers.

  Molly blinked in confusion. Now what the devil was the man talking about? “What?”

  “Since you’re giving me a detailed description of the landscape, I thought you might want to add something nice about the dirt.” Mischief danced in his eyes as he looked down at her, and Molly realized she hadn’t fooled him for a minute.

  “Well, it’s nice and black,” she returned seriously.

  “Yes, it is. Rather dry, though.” Jonathan turned his head to survey the park, pretending to be desperately impressed with the surroundings. “Do you come here often?” he inquired politely.

  Molly shook her head. “Not as often as I’d like. I bring my children here every year for our school picnic. Right beyond that clump of trees is a small playground with swings. The children love it.”

  “Swings?” Jonathan’s brows rose. “Did you say swings?” At her nod, he tightened his grip on her hand. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go.” He broke into a run, pulling her along.

  “Stop! Jonathan!” she cried breathlessly, pausing to catch her breath. “I can’t run that fast.” With an ease that astounded her, Jonathan scooped her up in his arms and continued to run, oblivious to her wild shrieks.

  Pressed tightly against his hard body, she couldn’t find any place to put her arms except around his muscular neck. Her fingers itched to slide through the luxuriant strands of his hair, but she restrained herself. The scent of him was dizzying, and she closed her eyes, willing the feelings of pleasure that rolled through her to retreat.

  With less effort than she could have believed, Jonathan continued to sprint, oblivious of the weight she added.

  “Jonathan, stop. What will people think?” Her eyes darted about. She wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find Mrs. Simpson hiding in the bushes with a camera.