Should he deny it? His gut instinct was to do just that, but then… Hadn’t he and Cara agreed never to be in danger of love? So maybe it was safer to let Molly think he was involved elsewhere. Then he’d be protected from just what was threatening.
‘You mean Cara?’
‘Who else do you think I mean? How many significant women do you have?’
Silence. Then, ‘You think I was being unfaithful?’
Here we go, Molly thought. This man’s morals were about as divorced from hers as they could possibly be. He had no idea that he’d done anything remotely questionable. In his eyes Molly was a woman, therefore she was available to be kissed. It was as simple as that.
‘We hardly forged a relationship,’ he said, and she nodded, expecting little else.
‘No.’
‘Then what’s the big deal?’
‘Nothing.’ She was glaring at him with every ounce of glare in her possession.
‘So why are you mad?’
‘Let’s just say I feel sorry for Cara and leave it at that.’
More silence. It stretched on and on. Then, ‘Are you intending to come to lunch in that?’ with a polite motion to her bathrobe, and Molly glared some more.
‘No!’
‘Then may I suggest you get yourself dressed while I finish the froghouse?’
‘I don’t want to-’
‘Come to lunch with me? I can see that.’ His tone was polite now, businesslike and aloof. Nothing more. ‘But there’s no choice-for both of us. So I’d suggest you come down off your high horse, haul yourself back into business mode and come out to lunch. Now.’
And without another word he turned his attention back to construction, leaving Molly to react as she would.
After all, it had nothing to do with him.
Only it did.
Molly left him alone, thumping back to her bedroom and slamming the door behind her. Left to his own devices, Jackson manoeuvred the froghouse legs into position and started tightening screws. It was a fiddly job and required concentration.
And concentration was what he didn’t have.
Had he started a relationship by kissing Molly?
The question didn’t arise, he thought. Or it hadn’t until now.
So what had happened?
Very little, he told himself. Molly was a beautiful and desirable woman. They’d shared a wonderful day. It had seemed right at the time so he’d kissed her. As simple as that.
Only it wasn’t.
Damn, it was how she made him feel…
He’d never felt this way before, he thought suddenly. He’d kissed many women but he hadn’t known he could feel like this.
Like what?
As if she needed defending and he wanted to be the one who did the defending. As if he wanted to share in watching these crazy frogs jump around their tank-as long as Molly was by his side to share in the watching.
As if he wanted to kiss her again…
That was the nub of the matter.
But since Diane relationships were off the cards. Except for Cara. And the relationship he had with his half- sister was, of course, completely different. She of all people understood why he’d vowed never to fall in love with anyone again-but Cara was in Switzerland now, living her own life. She wouldn’t appreciate him interfering in her affairs-playing the protective brother.
But if someone touched Molly…
The thought brought him up with a jolt. If he thought anyone was likely to lay a finger on Molly… Hurt her…
No. Not just hurt her.
It wasn’t only a feeling of protectiveness that was consuming him. It was the thought of anyone else…any man…looking at her with desire. Because she was…
Whew! Where were his thoughts taking him?
The stupid froghouse leg wouldn’t fit and he swore.
Get this tank up, get this lunch over and get out of here, he told himself harshly. You need to clear your head, and being around this woman-
You don’t.
He was so confused. All he knew was that he made a very bad liar. He couldn’t even lie to himself.
And Molly?
She was dressing herself in the most severe outfit she owned. Black, black and more black. And no make-up. Not a scrap.
What was she doing? She dressed and then stared into the mirror for a very long time.
‘Anyone would think you were scared of Jackson Baird,’ she told her reflection, and stared for a while longer.
Finally she gave a little nod and the corners of her mouth twitched into a grimace.
‘Anyone would be exactly right.’
There was the small matter of completing the froghouse, but they’d run out of time.
‘I think I must need a different sort of screwdriver,’ Jackson confessed. ‘These plans look like they’re written in Swahili.’ Then he checked out Molly’s black trousers, black jacket and black shoes and his frown deepened in disapproval. ‘Plus I was hoping for someone to help me lift it into place, but the only thing you look like lifting is a coffin.’ His eyes raked her from head to toe, disapproval growing by the minute. ‘I’ve seen pallbearers look more cheerful than you.’
She hmmphed at that. ‘I’m dressed for business.’
‘And the fact that I need a lift to get this tank on its legs…’
‘Your four legs aren’t together yet,’ she pointed out. ‘Plus I need time to think about where to put it. It can’t stay in front of the television.’
‘What about in front of the bar? Will that be a problem?’
She managed a sort-of smile. Her head was aching from the night before, she was confused and tired, and the last thing she wanted to be thinking about was the bar. Or its contents. ‘Only if Angela breaks up with another fiance,’ she said ruefully, and he smiled in sympathy.
‘Not a big drinker, then, Miss Farr?’
‘The bar’s hardly been touched since my brother-in-law’s death,’ she told him, and then wished she hadn’t as his eyes warmed with still more sympathy. The last thing she needed from this man was sympathy.
She didn’t need anything from him at all.
But he was still in sympathy mode. ‘You haven’t thought of ripping the bar out? Of changing the apartment so it’s more yours and Sam’s rather than Sam’s parents’?’
She thought that through but didn’t understand. ‘The froghouse is doing that.’
‘No.’ He considered, but he knew he was right. ‘Sam’s belongings may well have arrived when his parents were alive.’ He let his gaze drift around the place, taking it in. ‘All the photos here are of his parents and of Sam’s life before their death. All the personal stuff. There’s not a lot of Molly Farr in this place at all.’
‘It’s Sam’s home.’
‘It’s your home, too.’
