Heavenly Match

by Sharon DeVita

  “People will think that we’re…” His voice trailed off. “People will think that we’re friends,” he announced as he set her down gently on the swing. His eyes found hers, and Molly’s senses reeled.

  “Now, I’ll push first,” he informed her. “Then it’s your turn. I want you to know, Molly Margaret Maguire, that I am a liberated man. Equal rights and equal pushes.”

  Laughing, Molly clung tightly to the ropes of the swing as she soared higher and higher until she was nearly breathless. “Jonathan,” she cried over her shoulder, “not so high. I’m going to fall.” The wind rushed against her face, and her hair streamed out behind her.

  Jonathan abruptly reached out and grabbed the seat of the swing, bringing her slowly and steadily to a halt. Sliding his hands to her slender waist, he lifted her carefully off the swing and set her down in front of him.

  “Molly,” he said softly, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze, “you don’t ever have to worry about falling when I’m around. Not off swings, or anything else.” His hands, warm and gentle, caressed her shoulders, and she tried not to look up at him. His touch was affecting her again.

  Looking into those eyes was dangerous, she realized. It did something to her inner system—something that she wasn’t certain she could handle at the moment.

  “Did you hear me?” Jonathan cupped her chin, stroking her gently.

  Trembling, she looked up into his gentle eyes. Something was stirring inside of her, something she tried to ignore. “Jonathan, please.” Her voice had taken on a helpless, pleading tone.

  “Molly, listen to me.”

  She had no choice in the matter. She was his captive audience. She couldn’t walk away if she wanted to. Her legs didn’t seem to be getting the message her mind was sending.

  “Something or someone has hurt you deeply, but don’t be afraid of me. I won’t hurt you, not ever.” His voice was a hushed whisper, and she found herself shivering in spite of the warmth of the evening.

  Jonathan’s gaze caressed her upturned face. A pulsating sensation dropped her stomach and she gulped as his parted lips descended toward hers.

  “J-Jonatha—” His mouth cut off her words as his lips claimed hers in a sweet, gentle kiss. Her hands slowly moved up Jonathan’s back, coming to rest on the broad width of his shoulders. Their breaths mingled as she opened her lips greedily.

  Jonathan lifted his mouth and gathered her close in his arms. “Don’t be afraid of me,” he whispered against her hair. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

  Dazed, Molly leaned against him, no longer able to fight the feelings that tore through her with agonizing speed. Jonathan’s fingers lazily trailed up and down her back. His lips traveled a path of their own, from the pulse at her temple, down to the soft area of her cheek, finally coming to rest once again on her waiting lips. With a sigh, Molly closed her eyes and gave in to the heady feeling of the moment, letting her emotions overrule her intellect.

  She hungrily kissed him back. Burning shivers of joy caused her spirit to soar.

  “Molly?” Jonathan grumbled softly, lifting his head. “Either a bird has deposited something terribly distasteful on my head, or it’s raining.”

  “What?” Her lids lifted slowly. Raising her head, she saw that the sky, which had been Wedgwood blue, had turned dark and ominous. “It’s raining,” she groaned, pulling her arms down to where they belonged. “We’d better get back.”

  Jonathan scowled at the darkened sky as a clap of thunder broke loose. “Let’s make a run for it.” Racing down the path, Jonathan caught her hand in his as she struggled to keep up with him.

  The rainstorm was nothing compared to the private storm brewing inside Molly. Her senses were still swirling. Her heart pumped for all it was worth, and her lips longed for the sweet taste of Jonathan.

  He clutched her hand tightly as they bobbed and weaved along the rain-soaked path, sidestepping mud puddles. Laughing, they quickly threw the soggy picnic gear into the basket before racing on.

  “Molly?” Jonathan said, panting and pushing his wet hair off his face. “You know what I’d really love right now?”

  “An umbrella?” she asked. Her foot landed in a deep puddle of muddy water and she groaned.

  Jonathan shook his head and laughed. “No, ice cream.”

  “Ice cream?” she echoed in disbelief. Her sandals were soaked, and they squeaked with each clumsy step. A trickle of mud oozed between her toes as she tried to keep up with Jonathan’s long strides. Her hair was plastered against her head, and cool droplets of water slid down her white cotton shirt, which was now thoroughly drenched and clung provocatively to every curve. They were about to drown, and he wanted ice cream!

  “Jonathan,” she protested, slowing down a bit to catch her breath, “I can’t go anywhere looking like this.”

  Jonathan stopped and let his eyes roam over her. “Looking like what?” He looked genuinely perplexed and Molly smiled.

  “Like this.” She grinned and pulled the cotton shirt from her skin. It was nearly transparent and she flushed as his eyes slid over her curves again. “I’m soaked,” she whispered hoarsely.

  “You’ll dry off.”

  “I—I’m cold.” She shivered, trying to ward off the mesmerizing pull of his eyes. He was overwhelming her again.

  “I’ll keep you warm,” he offered, dropping an arm around her shoulder and tucking her into the circle of his arms. That was what she’d been afraid of. Her temperature seemed to soar to a fevered pitch whenever Jonathan was around, and she felt helpless to control it. Worse, she was no longer sure she wanted to.

  Jonathan tightened his arms around her, then kissed the tip of her cold nose. “Molly, unless you say yes, we’re both going to drown.”

  “All right.” She laughed. “Yes, yes. Ice cream is fine. Strawberry if you insist. But let’s get out of this rain.” She grabbed his hand and started running, slipping and sliding along the path.

  The downpour let up just as they reached the ice-cream parlor.

  “Great timing,” Jonathan teased, pulling open the door and shaking himself off. He gave her back end a playful pat as she scooted past him.

  “Jonathan!” she muttered as she stepped around him.

  “Grandmother! Miss Emily! Ralph!” Jonathan’s cheerful voice boomed through the parlor. Molly tried to look inconspicious as every head seemed to turn in their direction. “How nice to see you.”

  Her eyes widened at the trio who were sitting in a booth near the back of the restaurant. Jonathan headed straight for them, pulling up two chairs. “Come on, Molly, sit down.” He patted the chair next to him and tucked the soggy basket under his seat. “We had a picnic supper,” he informed the trio. “We decided to stop for some ice cream.” Three pairs of curious eyes stared at Molly and Jonathan.

  “At least you had the good sense to come in out of the rain,” Aunt Emily commented, giving Molly a benevolent smile.

  “Grandmother, what are you eating?” Jonathan reached across the table and dipped his finger into the frothy concoction his grandmother had in front of her. “Mmm,” he murmured, rolling his eyes, “it’s wonderful. Think I’ll have the same. In strawberry. How about you Molly?” He turned to her and winked.

  Pushing a tumble of wet hair off her face, Molly laughed. “That’s fine, Jonathan. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

  Ralph Pritchard, who had been silently staring at the pair, nudged Emily. “It’s about time that girl found herself another beau,” he whispered loudly enough for everyone at the table and probably half the parlor to hear. A heated flush climbed Molly’s cheeks, and she glared at Ralph, but he ignored her and continued smiling broadly at her aunt.

  Jonathan grinned at Ralph’s comments and draped an arm around the back of Molly’s chair. “Isn’t that the truth, Ralph?” he agreed sympathetically. “I was just telling Molly she’d better hurry up and find a man before she’s too old. Why, I hear she’s almost twenty-six.” Jonathan’s voice had dropped to
a scandalous whisper, and Molly searched for his shin under the table.

  “Jonathan,” she whispered. “Don’t encourage him.”

  “Time’s running out, Molly,” Jonathan teased with a wicked grin.

  Why did she ever agree to come for ice cream? she wondered. And why on earth had she ever agreed to go out with this madman?

  “Plenty of time left.” Emily sniffed. “Why, her mother didn’t marry until she was nearly twenty-eight.”

  Marry? Marry! Rolling her eyes skyward, Molly sunk lower in her chair. Two dates with the man, and they had her married. It was time to change the subject, before they began writing out wedding invitations and naming the children.

  “Aunt Emily?” Molly directed her attention to her aunt and tried to force her voice to a normal tone. “I’ve agreed to help Jonathan look into the problems at the senior center.”

  Her aunt smiled sweetly, but Molly didn’t miss the silent glances the trio exchanged. She eyed them carefully. Why did she have the feeling that her announcement was not news to them?

  “You’re such a good girl, Molly. I’m sure Jonathan will be able to use your help.” It was Alma’s only contribution to the conversation so far, yet it was almost the same line, word for word, that Jonathan had used. Either the same thought patterns ran through their genes, or his grandmother had been coaching him. When she saw Jonathan duck his head to hide a smile, Molly suspected the latter.

  “First thing Monday, we’re going to start, aren’t we, Molly?” Jonathan gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze, and Molly winced as all eyes turned to them. She felt uncomfortable under the trio’s scrutiny.

  “You may be on vacation, Jonathan, but I’ve got classes to teach Monday,” Molly returned stiffly. Did he have to sit so close? And keep his arm around her?

  “Wanna play hooky?” he asked, his mouth curling into a mischievous grin.

  “No, I don’t,” she returned, giving him a look that she usually reserved for misbehaving students. Molly scooted forward a bit in her chair, but Jonathan’s hand reached out and captured her shoulder, pulling her back so that she was nearly resting against him. The man was impossible, she decided, but he was warm, and her chilled body reacted to the heat of his.

  Determined to ignore the magnetism that was drawing her closer to Jonathan, Molly turned her attention to Ralph. “Did Aunt Emily tell you Clarence arrested her last night?”

  “Heard all about it, missy. That boy of mine does get carried away at times. He meant no harm, but I’ll have a talk with him just the same. We owe your new beau a debt of gratitude for bailing Miss Emily out—not that Clarence wouldn’t have let her go sooner or later.” Ralph’s voice rose an octave, and Molly winced at the word he’d used. Her new beau? Everyone was acting as if she and Jonathan were joined at the hip! And what was with Ralph? For a man who still kept his sons in line despite the fact that they were grown and on their own, he was acting very peculiar.

  “Well, children, we’ve got to be going now. We’ve got a few things to do.” Aunt Emily abruptly pushed her glass away and pulled on her raincoat.

  Things to do? Molly looked at the three of them. Something was up; she could feel it in her bones. Lord, she only hoped it didn’t land them all in jail this time!

  “Where are you going?” Molly asked, looking at the three of them. The trio exchanged another silent glance, and Molly stifled a groan. “You’re not planning on doing any more picketing, are you?”

  “Picketing?” Emily smiled and Molly cringed. That smile again! “Whatever gave you that idea?” Emily’s brows furrowed in surprise, and she looked at Molly as if she had finally gone round the bend.

  “Come on Ralph, Alma, let’s go,” Emily urged them on, and Jonathan stood to allow them an easier exit. Bending over to kiss his grandmother’s cheek, he whispered something in her ear that Molly couldn’t make out, but it brought a wide smile to Alma’s face. Saying their goodbyes, the trio weaved their way out of the restaurant.

  Molly slid into the booth, her brows gathered in thought. “They are definitely up to something, and I don’t like it one bit.” Absently she tapped her finger against her lip, her thoughts racing.

  “Relax, Molly, they’re all grown-ups. They’re perfectly capable of taking care of themselves.” Jonathan reached across the table and patted her hand.

  Molly’s mind snapped to attention as a streak of annoyance raced through her. Was this the same man who had just told her the night before that he had come home because he was worried about his grandmother living alone? Now he was telling her she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. What kind of game was he playing with her? She narrowed her gaze and looked at him carefully.

  “Funny you should say that. Aren’t you the one who came home to take care of your grandmother? I guess she can take care of herself when it suits your purpose.” Her voice rose as her temper flared.

  Jonathan leaned back in the booth and stared at her, a look of surprise on his face. “Whoa, Molly.” He raised his hand, his eyes questioning. “Where did that come from?”

  His look of innocence only sparked her temper. “Jonathan, I know why you’ve come home,” she accused, trying to keep the anger out of her voice.

  “Of course, you do. I told you why last night.” He picked up the ice-cream menu and began to look it over.

  She glared at him across the table. Was he deliberately trying to aggravate her? “No, Jonathan. I mean, I know the real reason why you’ve come home.”

  “Hmm,” he commented, lifting his head a fraction. “Molly, what’s wrong? That frown’s about to become permanent.” He looked at her carefully. “What do you mean, ‘the real reason’?” It was his turn to frown.

  “Jonathan, I may live in a small town, but I’m no yokel,” she snapped. “I know exactly what you’re up to.”

  “What I’m up to?” Jonathan shook his head. “Maybe I’m the yokel, Molly, but I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

  Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders. There was no use pretending. He might as well know she was onto him. “I know you’ve come home to put your grandmother away somewhere.” Just saying the words made fury bubble through her veins.

  Jonathan burst out laughing. “What!”

  His laughter fueled her anger, and she stiffened. “I hardly think this is a laughing matter, Jonathan,” she returned curtly.

  One brow rose and he shook his head. “Where on earth did you ever get an idea like that?”

  “Where did I get the idea?” she roared in disbelief. “From your own mouth, last night!”

  Jonathan cocked his head, his eyes intent on hers. “Either I have amnesia, Molly, or your ears aren’t in working order. I don’t remember ever telling you I came home ‘to put my grandmother away somewhere.’”

  Her eyes narrowed and she glared at him. “Jonathan Kent! Last night you told me—”

  He raised his hand to silence her. “Last night, I told you a lot of things, and I meant each and every one of them. But I did not tell you that I came home to put my grandmother away somewhere.”

  Maybe he hadn’t said it in so many words, but she knew what she’d heard. And what he’d meant. Why was he trying to deny it? “Then you are going to move her to Portland?”

  Jonathan shook his head. “No, I told you last night, Molly, I’m not going to move my grandmother to Portland. She doesn’t want to move to Portland. I love my grandmother, Molly,” he added softly. “I only want what’s best for her.”

  What was best for her. His words struck a raw nerve. It was the same line Paul had used on her about Aunt Emily. Molly struggled to hold on to her dwindling composure. Naturally he would assume that only he knew what was best for his grandmother!

  “Jonathan, let me see if I’ve got this straight. You love your grandmother—”

  “Yes, I love my grandmother,” he repeated.

  “You’re concerned about her living alone.” She waited for his nod before she c
ontinued. “But you’re not going to move her to Portland?”

  Jonathan smiled. “You’ve got it.”

  “Then what the devil is going to happen to her?” she bellowed, not caring that she was showing her temper.

  “Nothing.” He shook his head and laughed, causing another surge of anger to rock her. “Absolutely nothing.”

  Her eyes widened. Did he really expect her to believe this nonsense? Why was he deliberately being evasive? she wondered. What was he trying to hide? “I’m supposed to believe—”

  “Molly,” he growled, “do you honestly think I’m going to come charging into my grandmother’s life and start making her decisions for her?” He sounded incredulous, and Molly’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “I don’t know what to think.”

  He shook his head wearily. “If I gave you the impression I came home to rearrange my grandmother’s life to suit me, I’m sorry.” His shoulders lifted, and he offered her a wan smile, but Molly still wasn’t convinced. Something still didn’t ring true.

  “Last night you said you were working on a few things. What things?” If the man’s intentions toward his grandmother were truly honorable why didn’t he just tell her what he was up to and be done with it? What the devil was the big secret?

  Jonathan looked at her for a long moment. “You don’t believe me, do you? You don’t believe one word I’ve said!” The look he gave her made Molly flush, and she realized how transparent her feelings were.

  “A relationship can’t possibly go anywhere without trust, Molly,” he said softly, reaching out to cover her hand with his.

  She yanked her hand free. His touch was disturbing. It wasn’t easy to think clearly when Jonathan touched her, and she needed to think clearly.

  Shaking her head, Molly tried to clear her thoughts. A moment ago they were talking about his grandmother. Now Jonathan was suddenly talking about a relationship. Why did he deliberately change the subject whenever his grandmother came up? He did that last night, she remembered. Why?

  “I don’t want a relationship, Jonathan,” she said carefully. “I thought you understood that. You agreed we could just remain friends.”