Molly Matthews Meddles in Marriage

by Jill Steeples

  She picked up the coffees and wandered back in to see him. What was she thinking inviting him back to her home? She’d never done that for any of her other clients, so why was she making so many concessions for Rory? She prided herself on her professionalism, for keeping her business life totally separate from her personal life. So what was going so wrong with Rory? It was too easy to forget she should be fixing him up with a wife.

  Perhaps it was a good thing that he wanted to find his partner as quickly as possible. She’d always loved her job, enjoying the challenge of working closely with her clients, helping to find their happy ending. But with Rory, she realized with a sudden pang that she’d overstepped the mark, allowing her own personal feelings for someone she imagined she knew better than she actually did, to take over.

  No, the sooner she could find Rory his bride and get him out of her life, the better. Then she could go back to worshiping him from afar. She didn’t like the complicatedness of Rory’s presence in her neatly ordered world.

  Thankfully, in the living room, he now had one pink towel wrapped around his waist and the other covering his shoulders. Still a disturbing image, but slightly less disturbing than the one of him dressed only in his trunks. He was doing that thing of making himself completely at home and Molly had the feeling she was intruding on his time and space rather than the other way around. That’s why, of course, he felt it perfectly acceptable to strip off in a virtual stranger’s home. Being feted and adored by millions, he clearly had an overinflated sense of his own entitlement. Either that or it was something to do with the way Rory viewed her. Theirs was a business relationship. And that was all. She’d been indulging in fanciful romantic thoughts, reading far too much into perfectly innocuous situations. He, on the other hand, saw her as… Well, she didn’t know what exactly. But certainly not a fanciable woman.

  He stood in front of her bookshelves, running a finger along the titles. Those towels did an adequate job of covering his trunks and shoulders, but there were still plenty of tantalizing glimpses of flesh on show. His whole body held a subtle bronze glow, highlighting the smattering of golden hairs over his legs and around his belly button. A belly that was tight and toned and rippling with definition.

  She flopped down onto the sofa and grabbed a cushion, holding it over her own less-than-toned tummy.

  “You’re a Marco Faro fan, are you?” He pulled out one of the many cookbooks from her vast collection from the enfant terrible of the London culinary scene.

  “Hugely. I’ve got all his books, as you can see. I spend hours poring over his recipes. I’ve tried a few, but what I’d really like to do is visit one of his restaurants one day. When I win the lottery, of course,” she said with a resigned smile.

  “He’s a good friend of mine,” he said matter-of-factly and Molly gasped in awe, wondering why she was surprised.

  “Ah, good to see you have this one in your collection.” Smiling, he picked out the DVD with his own image on the cover. Julia Henry, one of the country’s most talented and beautiful actresses, had her arms draped around Rory’s body, looking up into his eyes longingly. A pang of disappointment filled Molly’s body. She knew that feeling of longing all too well at the moment.

  “Did you like it?” he asked.

  “One of my favorites,” she said. One she’d watched time and time again, and one she wanted to watch again, just as soon as Rory was gone.

  He moved on to studying things on the mantelpiece, picking up and examining each of the photo frames in turn. If he ever tired of working in films, he could always find a job as an estate agent, such was his interest in all the nooks and crannies of her home. She tried to imagine doing the same thing in someone else’s house and couldn’t. She wouldn’t have the nerve.

  “Oh wow, and who’s this? Sisters, I’m guessing?” He turned to face her, holding aloft a heart-shaped frame.

  “Yes, my sister, Natalie and my mum actually.”

  “Really?” She heard the element of surprise in his voice. “Wow!” She saw the admiration in his eyes. The unsaid question hanging in the air, could she really be related to these two women? “They’re gorgeous,” he added unnecessarily.

  “Yes, everyone says so.” Molly hugged her cushion closer. “They’ve both worked as models in their time and are often mistaken for sisters.”

  He let out a low, appreciative whistle. He held the image close in his hands, examining it intently, before seemingly remembering Molly’s presence.

  “Beauty clearly runs in your family,” he said casually, with a smile, returning the photo to the shelf.

  She shrugged, laughing, a response she’d had plenty of practice at over the years.

  “I take after my dad,” she said, putting him straight.

  “Do you see a lot of them, your family? Are they local?”

  “Not really,” she answered. Not since she’d left her hometown five years earlier after her fiancé Paul dumped her for another woman, three months before they were due to marry. Not before giving her the parting news her that he’d only gone out with her in the first place to get close to her sister, Natalie. No, those sorts of reminders she could do without.

  “They all live down on the South Coast. We’re all so busy, it’s hard to keep in touch.” She pushed the cushion to one side. “Excuse me, I’ll just go and see how those clothes are doing.”

  Molly’s flat was just as Rory had imagined. Full of color and warmth with an outward sense of order, but underneath all the neat piles of books, DVDs, papers and magazines, he sensed there was a wild and uncontrollable energy just waiting to be let loose. A bit like Molly herself.

  He would just finish his coffee and then make a move. He sensed he’d already overstayed his welcome. At work, he was used to getting his kit off and padding about in his underwear in front of actors and directors, the crew, makeup girls and any other assorted people wandering around the set, without a second thought.

  Only he wasn’t on a film set now and judging by Molly’s expression, he’d clearly made her feel very uncomfortable when he’d taken off those wet clothes. Horrified even. And then when he’d asked her about her family, he sensed he was treading on territory that she had no desire to be discussing.

  Shame really. In any other circumstances with any other woman, there would only have been one natural conclusion to the evening’s activities. Molly was a great-looking woman and they’d had such a good time tonight, the hours had flown past. And all that hoo-hah with the paparazzi she’d handled with such grace. But thinking about it now, he didn’t actually want to take her to bed. That was a definite first. No, what he wanted to do was to snuggle down on her sofa, with a glass of red wine, a DVD and most importantly, with Molly curled up tight in his arms. He certainly didn’t want to be going home, out in the cold night air. He shook his head, perplexed. Surely, age couldn’t be creeping up on him already?

  Molly appeared in the doorway.

  “I think these are dry now,” she said, handing over his clothes.

  “Great. I’ll be on my way then. Thanks for the coffee. And for a great evening.”

  “Yes. You too. And we’ll see you on Tuesday evening at the supper party?”

  “Of course.” He leaned in to kiss her, slipping an arm around her waist, inhaling the delicious sweet scent of vanilla, her agonizing proximity having an immediate and overpowering impact on every pulse point in his body. Thinking about it, he wanted to do all those other things and take her to bed too.

  “Can’t wait,” he said with a wry smile. At least he couldn’t wait to see Molly again.

  Chapter Four

  “What’s the matter?” Pippa asked as she tucked a chair beneath the abandoned table, a few empty wineglasses and some trailing paper decorations the only reminder of another successful evening. The last client had just departed and the effusive praise from all the diners was still ringing around the room.

  “Nothing,” said Molly, sounding rattled even to her own ears as she concentrated
on scribbling down some notes in her huge diary.

  Pippa pulled an exaggerated face at Aaron who gave a resigned shrug in reply. One of Molly’s oldest friends, he’d been drafted to help out with the dinner party.

  “I wouldn’t let Rory get to you,” Pippa ventured. “We might have known he would be a no-show. Those celebrities are a fickle bunch. He probably decided a marriage bureau wasn’t for him, after all. You have to admit, it’s a bit strange that he actually came to us in the first place.”

  Molly snapped shut the diary.

  “Strange? Why should it be? Celebrities face the same problems as the rest of us mere mortals, you know. As far as I’m concerned, he’s just another client.”

  The most high-profile and seriously gorgeous client who had ever graced the doors, admittedly, but a client nonetheless. Trouble was, the memory of being held in his close embrace as he’d said goodbye the other evening had simply refused to leave her mind. The thought sent tiny ripples of delightful expectation to every part of her body.

  “Besides, he’s paid his annual fee upfront so I can’t believe he’s had second thoughts. I just think it’s incredibly rude that he didn’t have the decency to ring to let us know he wouldn’t be able to make it.” Especially after he held me like that, she thought, suppressing a sigh.

  Rude, annoying, irritating. There were a whole list of attributes she could tick off under Rory’s characteristics list. Sexy, dangerous and enticing too.

  But more than that, it felt strangely personal. All evening her stomach had been churning with anxiety. Every time the door opened, her heart would soar in anticipation at the prospect of seeing Rory again, followed by a huge plummet of disappointment when she realized it wasn’t him after all. She couldn’t have felt worse if he’d stood her up on an actual date. The knowledge that he could have such an unsettling effect on her, after knowing him only a matter of days, was hugely disturbing. Perhaps it was better that he hadn’t turned up after all.

  “Well, if you’ve finished with my services, I think I’ll make a move, if that’s okay?” Aaron stood, stifling a yawn, and Molly felt a pang of guilt at the lateness of the hour.

  “Oh yes, you get off.” Thank goodness for Aaron, stepping in like that to make up the numbers. The female clients loved him. If he’d been so inclined, she could have married him off a dozen times already.

  “Thanks for everything, Aaron.” Molly threw her arms around his neck, overwhelmed with gratitude. “You’ve been an absolute star,” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek. “I’m not sure what we would have done without you tonight.”

  Mid-embrace the door flew open and Rory appeared, looking unabashedly pleased with himself. Dressed in black slim-fitting chinos and a white double-cuffed shirt, the sleeves rolled halfway up his tanned arms, he looked as though he’d just wandered off the end of a catwalk. Damn her body for responding so urgently to his physical presence.

  She clutched tighter to Aaron for moral support, the hackles on her back rose, the stirring deep within her stomach, a mix of anger heightened with a dash of pleasure and a huge sprinkling of relief.

  “Yes?” she managed, her annoyance now bubbling just beneath the surface.

  “I know,” he said, holding his hands up guiltily, visibly chastised by the collective death stare he was on the receiving end of from Molly, Aaron and Pippa. “I’m late. Apologies, but…”

  “You’re not late,” Molly corrected him, extracting herself from Aaron’s embrace. “You missed the entire event. Slight difference. Really, if you don’t want to attend, that’s up to you, but I’d be grateful if in future you could let me know so that we can alter our arrangements at this end. A phone call wouldn’t have gone amiss.” A tight smile stretched over her lips, but she knew she was doing a bad job at convincing anyone of her sincerity.

  Aaron, never one for confrontation, made for the door, looking as though he’d rather be anywhere other than here.

  “I’ll give you a call tomorrow,” he said, giving Molly an encouraging smile, beckoning Pippa to join him on the way out and completely blanking Rory in the process. “Or would you like us to wait until you’re finished here?”

  “No, honestly, you get off. I just have a couple of things to see to and then I’ll be on my way too.”

  Left alone with Rory, she turned to face him, the room that had earlier housed forty people comfortably now seeming smaller and much more claustrophobic. A heat fired in her chest, making her skin fetchingly blotchy, she didn’t doubt. He smiled that easy, lazy smile, the one that could make you forgive him anything, possibly even not turning up to a much anticipated and heavily organized dinner party, if you were the forgiving kind, of course. Which Molly wasn’t. Certainly not today.

  “You won’t believe me, I know, but I was really looking forward to this evening.” He tilted his head to one side, his eyes appeasing, his gaze traveling her face. He reached out to touch her shoulder but she flinched. The other night her inhibitions had been loosened by the intimate atmosphere of the restaurant, the divine food, her perpetually filled glass of champagne and the heady proximity of Rory, but that was a mistake. She wouldn’t let down her guard again. Not when she had a job to do.

  “I was all set to come, I promise, but I ran into a friend of mine, Theo Manning.”

  Molly sighed in exasperation. Only Rory could namedrop with such casual abandon, as if she might be on familiar terms with probably the most influential fashion designer in town. As if that might excuse his rudeness. Another reminder if she needed one that Rory inhabited a completely different world to the one she knew.

  “We had a couple of drinks and then…” He shrugged, not mastering the apologetic look at all. “Time ran away from us. I tried calling, but we were stuck in this cellar bar on the other side of town and I couldn’t get any reception.”

  Pathetic, seethed Molly inwardly, unimpressed by the “I’m a hot-shot celebrity with an amazing network of friends with much better things to do with my time than sticking to an appointment I’d made with you” routine. No doubt it worked on most people, but she certainly wasn’t impressed in these circumstances. If it had been a date, she’d have given him his marching orders by now. But…hell, this wasn’t a date! So why did she need constant reminding of that fact? He was her client. One who’d paid his money. And she ought to try remembering that fact. She hitched up her professionalism from the bottom of her boots.

  “Well, never mind,” she said, not entirely convincingly, wondering for the first time why he’d even bothered to turn up at all. “I’ll be in touch in the next couple of days to fix up some dates. I’m assuming you do still want that?”

  His wide lips curled at the edges, one dark eyebrow rose high.

  “Well, a date sounds very exciting. Where do you think we should go?”

  She bit on her lip, determined to stop the smile twitching at her lips.

  “I wasn’t talking about us, as you well know.”

  “Shame!” There was a definite glint in his eye, a wicked smile dancing on his lips.

  “Ours is a business relationship and I would be grateful if you could remember that. I will try to do my best to find you a wife, but I would ask that you meet me halfway on this and work with me and not against me. The flirting, the game playing, it’s vaguely amusing, but unnecessary.”

  He paced to the other side of the room, seemingly intent on examining the pattern of the carpet as he went. Suddenly he looked up.

  “Flirting?” He ran a hand through ridiculously glossy brown hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was.”

  Of course he didn’t. Flirting was as natural to him as breathing and sleeping was to other people. He hadn’t singled her out for special attention, even if it had felt that way. It was a tool of his trade and boy, did he use it effectively.

  “This might be business but it doesn’t stop us being friends, does it?” He dug his hands deep into his trouser pockets. “The better we get to know each other, the easier your job wi
ll be, don’t you agree?”

  Yes. No. She didn’t know! Being friends with Rory sounded dangerous. She wasn’t sure her heart was up to that sort of high-adrenaline exposure. Rory had displayed, once again, his uncanny knack of putting her on the back foot. A feeling she didn’t like nor was familiar with.

  “I suppose,” she said truculently. “But if I’m being honest with you, you’re unlike any of my other clients.”

  “I’m a one-off. I could have told you that.” Rory pulled out a gold-backed dining chair, spun it round and sat astride, resting his arms on the backrest, a big grin on his face. “In what way?”

  God, he’s gorgeous! When he focused on her like that, his gaze intent upon her face, it turned her whole body into a molten mess.

  She pulled out a chair, placing it a safe distance from him. He should have a sign affixed to his forehead— Beware: Hazardous Material. She sat to face him, crossing her legs primly.

  “When most people come to my agency, I can tell that it’s a decision they’ve thought about long and hard. They come knowing at this particular point in their life that what they want more than anything is to find their life partner. They’re excited and full of hope that they’re on the brink of something momentous. And that’s what makes it so exciting for me. That I can help them share that journey.”

  Rory nodded, indicating for her to go on. She took a breath, weighing up whether she should or not. A thought flashed into her mind. Returning a membership fee would be a first, but it wouldn’t matter, not in the instance. She needed to be perfectly honest with her clients and if he didn’t like what she had to tell him, then that was tough luck.

  “The thing is, I don’t get that same sense of hope or excitement from you. If I’m being honest, it all seems like a big joke.”

  “That’s just my sunny disposition,” he said darkly.