A Millionaire For Molly

‘I can’t do anything with him here,’ Jackson gasped. It was all he could do to hold on. ‘Can you tow me?’

It was some question-but she could. Molly released the platform of twigs to let it rush on towards the sea, and then fought to get behind Jackson. She cupped her hands under his chin, lay back, then kicked out and started to tow. Jackson kicked in unison and slowly they moved towards the bank.

It took all their strength-more than all their strength-to move the joey towards the shore, and afterwards Jackson never could figure out how they had. He surely couldn’t have done it on his own.

Molly’s strength was amazing. He could kick, but nothing more, and that alone wasn’t enough to battle the current. But somehow she found the strength to tow not just herself but him, and the kangaroo with him.

The river broadened at the mouth, and jagged rocks formed the riverbed. Here the breakers crashed in from the open sea, and anything pushed further would be dashed against the rocks. But the current lessened slightly-almost imperceptibly-just before the rocks.

Man and woman kicked fiercely in unison, and they reached the shore just as the first of the rocks came into view.

Even then they didn’t have the joey safe. As they staggered to their feet in shallow water they were confronted by a sandy cliff reaching five or six feet up from the riverbed. There was nothing to hold.

‘Now what?’ Jackson managed a rueful grin at the predicament they were facing. He was lifting the bundle high out of the water, but already the ’roo was starting to struggle free.

‘You go up and I’ll push,’ Molly told him.

‘You’re kidding?’

‘Nope.’

‘I have a better idea.’ He rewrapped the ’roo until he was sure those claws couldn’t come free and handed the whole thing to Molly. He hauled himself in against the cliff and cupped his hands so she could use them as a step.

‘Up you go.’

She looked at Jackson and looked at the cliff. ‘I can’t.’

‘Of course you can, girl,’ he said equitably. ‘After all, there’s no choice-so what choice do you have?’

Somehow their crazy scheme worked. Somehow Molly was propelled upwards to land in a laughing sodden heap on the grassy verge. Then she reached down to grab Jackson’s hand as he hauled himself up. He came in a rush and almost landed on top of her-a soggy ball of ’roo, man and woman.

And they were safe.

‘We’ve done it,’ Molly gasped as Jackson untied their bundle of baby ’roo.

Yes. They’d done the thing. Jackson looked down at her and his mouth twisted in a rueful smile. She was battered and soggy and exhausted. She was limp with relief. And he’d never seen anything more beautiful…

‘He’s gorgeous,’ Molly murmured as the blanket fell away from the sodden joey.

The baby ’roo did look gorgeous. Kind of. But then, so did the girl. With a huge effort Jackson managed a response. ‘Yeah, right. Gorgeous. But stupid.’ The joey was shaking its head in disbelief. They’d landed on the opposite bank from where they’d started-on the same bank as the joey’s mother-and already the mother ’roo was peering towards them, trying to see what was happening.

‘Stupid! What a thing to say!’

‘I’m a pragmatist,’ he retorted. ‘Someone has to be. If I wasn’t a pragmatist you’d have tried to rescue the joey without a rug, and you’d be bleeding to death right now.’

She managed a grin, albeit a shaky one. ‘Then I’m glad you’re a pragmatist. But I’m also… Oh, Jackson, he’s going to jump!’

‘Mmm.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘Are you okay?’

Suddenly he was okay. More than okay. He felt great. They’d struggled against the odds and they’d won, and it was as far from the everyday white-collar wheeling and dealing as he’d been for years. His eyes met Molly’s and they were full of laughter and of triumph. ‘Oh, well done. Well done us.’

‘Jackson…’

There was no need for more. He heard the warning in her voice and turned to see the mother ’roo thundering down from along the bank. The ’roo had seen her baby and was now taking steps to get him back.

‘Give him a push away,’ Molly urged, half-laughing, half-serious. These ’roos were big! Bull kangaroos were dangerous enough, but to stand between a ’roo and her joey…

‘I’m trying.’ Jackson grabbed the blanket and lifted it away-and then retreated. Fast.

Freedom…

The joey gave one more unbelieving shake of his head, he reared on wobbly legs-and then took off for his mother as if Molly and Jackson were the cause of all his problems rather than his saviours.

‘Well, will you look at that?’ But Jackson was grinning with a smile that almost split his face. The joey had reached his mother. The ’roo nosed him all over and then the joey dived straight down, deep into his mother’s pouch. The ’roo took off before the joey’s legs had disappeared, and gave the strange humans not so much as a backward glance as they headed for the safety of the mob. ‘That’s gratitude for you.’

‘I’m grateful,’ Molly said before she could stop herself-because she was. She couldn’t have saved the joey herself. Maybe it had been dangerous to try, but there’d been too much death in her life over the last few months. If she could stop just one death…

‘You know, you can’t save the world.’ He was watching her face and guessing what she was thinking.

She flushed. ‘I can try.’

‘Molly…’ And then, before he even knew what he intended, he reached for her.

Why? He hardly knew. But she was so alone. Kneeling on the sandy bank, watching the ’roo with worried eyes that still reflected her fear of unnecessary death… She was sodden and bruised and shaken and there was suddenly no choice but to take her in his arms. To hold her hard against him so her breasts moulded to his chest.

To comfort…

No. This was more than comfort. This was need! He could feel her heart beating against his and it felt right. He kissed the top of her head, and when she raised her face to him in mute enquiry it was entirely natural that his hold became tighter. It felt right that his mouth should lower onto hers…

He kissed her. Of course he kissed her. And what a kiss! She tasted of salt-of the sea. She tasted of…

Of what? He didn’t know. All he knew was that this was a kiss such as he’d never experienced.

He’d kissed so many soft, pliant, lipsticked mouths that pursed into perfectly formed kisses and claimed him as their right. But there was no cool expertise here.

Their first touch fell awry, as if she hadn’t expected it-wasn’t wanting it-didn’t know what to do with it when she received it.

But she didn’t pull away. Her response was almost wondering. As if she didn’t understand that she was being kissed. Didn’t understand why.

And she wanted nothing from it but the touch. She needed comfort. She needed reassurance that here was life in the face of death. That she’d tried and she’d won and here was the man who had helped her achieve it. And he was solid and strong and male and wonderful…

She asked for nothing more. Her hands came up to take his face in her palms and her lips parted under his. Welcoming the kiss. Deepening. Glorying in the triumph of the moment-of the triumph of him-of the triumph of life itself!

The sun was warm on their sea-soaked bodies. With every moment they were recovering. Soon they’d surface to sanity, but until then they took each other in a desperate hunger that had nothing to do with the courting rituals each was accustomed to. Here was a man and a woman, and the sun and the sand, and the world around them was a mere backdrop to their need.

And when finally they pulled apart-as pull apart they must, though neither wanted it-there was no confusion between them. Only a deep assurance that it had been right. The right place. The right time. The right man for the right woman.

There was laughter in Molly’s eyes-not the carefully rehearsed confusion he’d come to expect from the women who saw his money coming before he did. There was no false coyness here. She was laughing at him and she was reaching up to touch his hair.