Protecting Molly Mcculloch

by Dee Holmes

  “Like what?”

  “Like it’s impossible. We made love twice, and neither time—Hell, you know what happened. I just want you to know that if you are, I’ll take responsibility. Money and, uh…”

  “Marriage?” she prompted, then decided that she’d taken the word brazen to a new level.

  He looked at her for a long time, not so much as if he were weighing his answer, but as if he were furious with himself for getting them into this predicament. Finally, he nodded, albeit reluctantly.

  “Yeah,” he’d muttered. “If that’s what you want.”

  “Gee, what a romantic proposal,” she’d said with a bite of sarcasm. Planting her hands on her hips, she gave him a withering look. “You sound as if you’ve been sentenced to execution. You’ll marry me if I’m going to have your baby, but if I’m not pregnant, it’s all over. How do you think that makes me feel? How can you possibly believe I’d marry a man who is willing only if I’m pregnant?”

  Hunt swore, then shook his head, the situation clearly making him uncomfortable. “I’m trying to tell you I’ll do the right thing.”

  “But reluctantly. Like going with me to Fernwood was the right thing.”

  “That was different.”

  “Only because it was just a few days,” she retorted, pacing the perimeter of the room. Now that she was hip-deep into this, she had no intention of giving him any advantage.

  Stepping around her luggage, she said, “Besides, you were the ex-cop doing a favor for an old partner. Nothing personal in that. Marriage and a child, on the other hand, are personal and forever. And you’re not a forever kind of guy, are you? At least you’ve been making that pretty clear the past few days. Now you want me to believe that forever works if I’m pregnant, but if I’m not, well, it’s been nice knowing you?”

  “Dammit all to hell,” he growled, then slammed the partially open door and tunneled his hand through his hair in frustration.

  For a moment she thought he was going to defend himself, but instead he only swore again, this time more fervently. It was obvious that he didn’t know what to say to her.

  Molly almost felt sorry for him. He looked stricken and confused. Clearly he’d never encountered this kind of situation. Not Hunt, who always kept his emotions at a distance. His sense of responsibility had kicked in not because of some outside force or devotion, but because, in his opinion, he’d acted irresponsibly by taking her to bed in the first place.

  From Hunt’s point of view he’d had no choice but to offer money, marriage or anything else she’d need for herself and a child. But he hadn’t offered the one thing she wanted. His love.

  Finally, he said, “I think we both need a breather. I’ll be in touch.”

  He’d dug his keys out of his pocket and opened the door. He hesitated a moment as if he wanted to say something more, then shook his head and left, pulling the door closed behind him.

  Those last four words had stayed with her—a loose promise, a vague acknowledgment that he’d see her. She’d waited and she’d hoped, but the days had passed without any contact.

  She’d considered going to his apartment, but she had no reason. Even the fan she’d loaned him had been returned by one of the kids in the neighborhood. “Mr. Gresham said thanks” had been the brief message.

  As for begging, pleading, throwing herself at him in some infantile declaration, well, she simply couldn’t do it. It would be too humiliating, and what would it accomplish? She couldn’t force or talk him into loving her.

  Molly turned from the windows with a long sigh. Her eyes glistened and she wiped away the dampness. She needed to stop feeling sorry for herself and get on with her life. Start dating some other men. There was no future with Hunt; she knew it, she hated it, but she couldn’t create what wasn’t to be.

  The phone rang and her heart leapt. But it was Denise asking about her headache, then telling her about some baseball cards Hunt had gotten for her boys and an interview he had the following day at a college in Vermont. She chattered on and Molly half listened, the tears she could no longer contain sliding down her cheeks.

  THE FOLLOWING FRIDAY, Hunt paused outside Molly’s office door, gathering his thoughts. He didn’t look very professorish; he’d just finished a lecture on the dangers and rules of undercover work and had looked the part—grungy jeans, heavy rap T-shirt, leather vest, unshaven and unsavory.

  One thing he’d learned quickly was that the students liked the underlying drama of what he did as much as the facts of his presentation. For Hunt, he discovered he really loved to teach. What had begun as a nonstress, low-key endeavor to distance police work had become a source of enjoyment and pleasure. He was eagerly looking forward to visiting other colleges. Already he was booked for the following spring and fall.

  Now he glanced down at his dirty clothes. He’d planned to go home and clean up, but he’d heard at lunch that Molly had a date tonight with Bill Ketchum, one of the professors in the history department.

  She’d done what he’d been telling her to do; she’d started dating. And to his utter astonishment, he hated the whole idea. Ketchum wasn’t dull, tweedy and intellectual like many of the professors. He was younger than Hunt, gregarious, charming and, according to campus rumor, had been interested in Molly for months. All in all, he was perfect for her, and Hunt despised him.

  Of course he was being irrational, selfish and arbitrary, but some inner truth that Hunt had refused to deal with since meeting Molly had finally shoved Hunt’s objections aside and sprung to life. Hunt had finally recognized his own vulnerability and caring and need to give and get love.

  He’d firmly believed that part of himself had died with Kristin; now he knew it had just been buried under his pain and self-protective instincts. Now he knew he didn’t want Molly to be with another man. For most of the afternoon, that possibility and all its potential consequences had sliced and diced its way through him like a butcher knife run amok.

  Hunt had told himself he didn’t want to barge into her apartment when she was getting ready for her date, but the truth was, he doubted he’d get in the door. He knew he’d botched their parting moments badly. Hell, he’d wanted to kiss her—he’d wanted to take her to bed, but going beyond that into something long-term…

  Frankly, love and commitment had scared the hell out of him. Because of losing Kristin, yes, but with Molly his fear of involvement had moved into new realms.

  She was too young. She needed to find out if her feelings were real or just an intoxicating attraction that was enhanced by great sex. Her giving him her virginity made the issue more momentous; that act had created a crack in his armor he could never seal up again. He’d never slept with a virgin, and even now his head reeled with its significance. She’d chosen to belong to him. She’d entrusted him with the one thing that she could give only once. And when he heard about her date with Ketchurn, the thought of Molly eventually having sex with him brought out a possessive side that stunned even him. Irrational, perhaps, even selfish and arbitrary, but he would not allow another man to trespass on what belonged to him.

  Belonged to him…. God, he could only hope.

  He pushed the door open and stepped inside. Molly’s office was across the room and her door was closed.

  “I’d like to see Molly McCulloch,” Hunt said to a plumpish woman in a red-and-gray dress working at a copy machine.

  She turned and her eyes widened, then slid over Hunt as if he’d been left behind by the trash collector.

  “Do you have an appointment?” she asked briskly.

  “No. Look, I’m sure she’s busy, but it’s important I see her.”

  She gathered up her copies and took the long way back to her desk rather than pass too close to him.

  Giving him another head-to-toe perusal, she said, “I’ll see if she has a minute. What’s your name?”

  “Hunt Gresham.”

  The abrupt change in the woman was cataclysmic. Her hands flew to her cheeks and she began gushing.
“Why, Mr. Gresham, I should have known. Please forgive my rudeness. My son is in your lecture series, and he says it’s the best course on campus.”

  “I’m glad he’s getting something from it.”

  “I had so much trouble with him last year,” she said, gesturing with her hands. “Drinking, parties. But this year, thanks to you, well, it’s just wonderful.”

  “That’s great.” He glanced at Molly’s door.

  “He’s even talking about changing his major to criminology.”

  “Well, it’s a huge field….” Hunt shifted his weight impatiently. Usually he didn’t mind discussing the response to his series, but today his mind was on Molly. “Could you please tell Molly I’m here?”

  “Oh, yes, yes.” She reached for the door, but at that moment Molly opened it.

  She had a file in her hand that she was leafing through. Her head was down, and Hunt took advantage of the opportunity to look at her before she noticed him. Wearing a plum-colored trouser suit with a ruffly beige blouse, she looked sleek, sophisticated and very professional.

  Hunt felt a kick of excitement so strong, he knew his nights with little sleep and his days of confused and unwieldy thoughts were more than sexual memories.

  Still sorting through the sheaf of papers, she said, “Shirley, I have a student who is—to use her words—’grossed out by her housemate.’ She wants to make a switch today if possible. I thought we could move her—” She halted when she glanced up and saw him, and she stared as if he were an apparition.

  He stared back, noting her surprise, which was quickly followed by suspicion.

  Shirley said, “I was just about to come in and tell you he wanted to see you.”

  “Really? In reference to what?”

  Hunt didn’t miss the coolness. He could hardly blame her. He’d made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her and hadn’t expected an open-arms welcome. Besides, he reminded himself, her date with Ketchum further confirmed she was getting on with her life—and getting over him.

  He didn’t have much time.

  “In reference to our date later tonight.”

  “Our date?” She blinked as if she’d missed a cue.

  Hunt winked at Shirley. “I’ve had a helluva time trying to convince her to go out with me. Now, after I finally have, she forgets all about me. Guess I’d better work on my approach.”

  Shirley smiled, taking the folder from Molly. “I’ll get right on this housemate change.” ‘Molly scowled, but Hunt strode forward, took her arm and hustled her back into her office. He closed the door and turned the lock.

  “You have a lot of nerve, Hunt Gresham.”

  “Yeah, with you I need nerve.” He ran a finger along the edge of her ruffly blouse. “You look gorgeous.”

  She pushed his hand away. “You look like a bum.”

  “Gee, all those women in my class thought I was sexy.”

  “I can just imagine. What do you want?”

  “Besides getting into your panties?”

  “Stop it.” She stepped away from him. “I don’t know what this is all about, but I can do without all the sexual byplay.”

  “You were supposed to say, ‘What are you up to?’“

  She narrowed her eyes and studied him for a moment “The reluctant Hunt Gresham is suddenly doing the sexy come-on? Sorry, I don’t buy it.”

  “It’s a new side of me. Light and upbeat.” He leaned against the edge of her desk and folded his arms.

  “Congratulations on a stellar performance for Shirley. I hope you’re very successful with this new approach.” She started past him, but he gripped her arm. When he tried to pull her between his legs, she balked. “Look, I have work to do and I have—”

  “A date tonight with Bill Ketchum.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Lunchroom gossip. Are you pregnant?”

  She looked startled by the question. Then, quickly recovering, she said smoothly, “Ah, so that’s why you’re here. To gear yourself up for the worst. Well, you’ll be happy to know I’m not, so your life won’t be complicated by anything messy like an unwanted woman with a baby.”

  She started to turn away when he stopped her and pressed his hand against her stomach. “You know, when I first saw you with your brother, I vowed to stay uninvolved because I didn’t want anything messy and complicated. And yet I’m the one who caused all the complications. And as weird and crazy as it sounds, I think I was happier in the midst of all those chaotic feelings than I’ve ever been. Frankly, I was hoping you were pregnant, because it would force me to make a decision I was afraid to make otherwise.”

  Still looking unsure, she asked, “A decision about what?”

  “About wanting to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  She blinked in disbelief. “I don’t believe that. From the beginning, you said I was too young for you, that you couldn’t deal with another permanent relationship after Kristin. And even after we got home, you obviously dreaded me being pregnant. Surely you can’t forget that you looked like a condemned man when I mentioned marriage.”

  “Yeah, well, my stupidity was in full bloom.”

  “Maybe not. Maybe it’s how you really felt.”

  In spite of her words, he sensed she wanted to believe him, and he drew her closer, resting his hand on her waist. “I want you to break your date tonight.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to have to convince Ketchum that it’s bad for his health if he goes out with you.”

  She rocked back a little, crossed her arms, her right foot tapping the floor. He knew immediately he wasn’t home free yet. “Is this a threat? Do away with the undesirable competition? You have a lot of nerve. You were the one who told me to date. I’ve just spent two weeks waiting for you to realize we had more than good sex, but have I heard from you? No. Now, when Bill and I are going out, you show up like some outraged ex-boyfriend.”

  “I love you, Molly.”

  “Well, you can just forget being outraged, because I don’t believe—What did you say?”

  “I love you.”

  She wavered and Hunt steadied her. Her eyes searched his for a long time. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “But when? How? I mean, we haven’t even seen each other. We haven’t argued or talked or even kissed. Surely you’re not going to say something like absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

  “How about my heart not being the same since I met you.” He tunneled his hands through her hair, messing the pinned-up style, loving the familiar scent of her, the treasure of emotions that came to life in her lavender eyes. “I’ve missed this.” He kissed her mouth, then her cheeks and then her mouth again. “I’ve also missed your quickness and your honesty. I’ve missed arguing with you and having you curl against me like I’m the safest place in the whole world. I’ve thought about you every day since we got home.”

  “Oh, Hunt, I want to believe you, but I don’t understand why you took so long to tell me. Why you chose a few hours before I went out with Bill Ketchum.”

  “Because I was afraid you’d find out what I’d been telling you was true. That there are other men out there more deserving of you than me. Bill’s a good guy, and you two would probably have a lot in common. I should be offering you good wishes and watch from the sidelines. I should be thankful I didn’t make you pregnant, but instead I was disappointed and confused that you were so unconcerned about it. That ate away at me. Not once did you ever mention it. Why?”

  She slid her arms around his waist, and Hunt thought his heart would burst.

  Watching him, she said, “For one thing, we were together during a safe time for me, so I knew the likelihood of pregnancy was slim, but beyond that, I knew I loved you. Having your baby would have been a gift.”

  Hunt closed his eyes, then folded her deeply into his arms. “My God…my God…” Then a thought occurred to him. “Wait a minute. You wouldn’t have told me? You would have
just had it?”

  “Of course I would have told you, but I wouldn’t have pushed you into marriage or a relationship you didn’t want. I knew how much you loved Kristin, and I knew you’d refused to allow yourself to feel anything for any other woman. I didn’t want you if you didn’t want me. I loved you, Hunt, but I’m not a martyr, and I certainly wasn’t going to use the pressure of a pregnancy or play on the guilt you already had for making love with a virgin.”

  “And I thought you were too young,” he muttered. “I’m the one who needs some instruction on mature relationships.”

  She grinned. “Only one with me.”

  “Then I’m forgiven for putting us both through all this indecision and unhappiness?”

  “No, but I might give you a few years to make it up to me.”

  “I’m gonna pay big-time, huh?”

  “In spades.”

  He chuckled.

  She laughed.

  “But I’m going to have a good time loving you while I’m forgiving you.”

  “Hmm. Does this mean the date with Bill Ketchum tonight is officially off?”

  She gave him an innocent look. “Well…”

  “Well, hell!”

  Molly hugged him, and he gathered her close for a long, deep and very intimate kiss. He cupped her bottom and positioned her against him. She rubbed her cheek across the bristle on his cheeks as if it were velvet.

  “I love you, Hunt. I’ve loved you for so long I ache with it.”

  He tipped her chin up and looked into those incredible lavender eyes. “Thank God you didn’t give up on me.”

  “I wanted to, but it’s very hard to give up on forever.”

  “And forever starts right now.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, yes.”

  And once again his mouth met hers with the knowledge that love never abandons those who truly seek it.

  eISBN 978-14592-7050-3

  PROTECTING MOLLY McCULLOCH

  Copyright© 1997 by Nancy Harwood Bulk.

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