A Millionaire For Molly

She bit her lip, and Jackson looked up and saw the expression on her face.

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’ The frogs wouldn’t jump off his hand. Neither would she if she was a frog, she thought, and then thought, Whoa… She was being ridiculous.

With his spare fingers Jackson was tickling the frog’s smooth backs. She watched as his index finger stroked each body in turn and her own body shivered. The whole scene was unimaginably, crazily erotic.

Oh, for heaven’s sake! She should take a cold shower. She cast Jackson an angry look, which he fielded as if he hadn’t seen it, then she reached in and moved the frogs from his palm to a mid-pool rock. Their fingers touched in the process. They stood side by side, staring down at the tank.

‘Um… You can go now,’ Molly said finally.

‘Not until the knots are up.’ Still he was watching the frogs. They sat side by side, gazing over their new home of waterfalls and ponds and lush green foliage, and Molly could almost swear they were grinning.

‘They’re set for life.’ Molly gave Jackson a half-hearted smile. Wherever she looked there were problems, she thought, and another problem had just raised its ugly head. ‘You’ve spent all this money and now… Guy’s right. It’s silly. When they go it’ll be empty, and Sam-’

‘Will miss them,’ he finished for her. ‘I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.’

‘You have?’

‘I have.’ He grinned. ‘There’s a brochure in the side of my toolbox labelled “Frog Rescue Society”. Did you know that homeless frogs can be farmed out to foster parents until they can be released?’

He’d taken her breath away. ‘You’re kidding?’

‘No. The foster parents can be anyone, as long as they’re prepared to do a little study, practise their mosquito-catching and prove they’ll be good carers.’

‘You mean Sam and I could be foster parents?’

‘You have the froghouse for it now,’ he told her. ‘I don’t see why it can’t be of use.’

He’d taken her breath away. ‘Sam would love it.’

‘I know,’ he said, and tried to look modest, and she fell in love with him all over again.

But she had to stay businesslike! All she wanted to do was take his face in hers and kiss him to bits and make him want her…

She couldn’t. He was leaving. He had another woman to love called Cara…

‘You found all that out for Sam?’ she said in a choking voice, and his modest look gave way to abashment.

‘Yes. Just call me Mr Wonderful.’ And then he relented. ‘Actually, the guy in the aquarium place told me about the rescue society. He gave me the pamphlet. So caring for frogs could be an ongoing experience.’

It was just what Sam needed, Molly thought. A cause. He’d take it on board and he’d love it.

‘Thank you.’ It was lame, and she knew it, but she didn’t trust herself to say anything else.

There was a drawn-out silence. He was watching her. She should say something else, but all she could think was, this man is leaving tomorrow and I’ll see him once more in my life and that’s it. It. And then-nothing.

Somehow she had to sound normal. Sane. Uninvolved, even. ‘We’d better do these frames.’

‘Right,’ he said, but he was still looking at her.

‘You don’t have to,’ she said stiffly, but he didn’t say anything more. He just crossed to the toolbox and found hooks and hammer and headed for the far wall.

There was nothing else to be said between them. Was there?

An hour later she had a display wall of all her knots. Every conceivable knot. And it looked wonderful.

‘What’s that one for?’ Jackson asked, pointing to an obscure knot under his thumb. ‘The slingstone hitch?’

‘Anchoring lobster pots,’ she told him automatically. ‘You can tie it at either the bight or the end. You pull the ends and the turns in the standing section are dropped into the loops.’

‘Right,’ he said faintly. ‘What knowledge! Just like my routing.’

‘Not like your routing at all,’ she said severely, and he grinned.

‘Fine.’ He laid down his hammer and surveyed the wall with satisfaction. ‘More than fine. Now the place isn’t a relic of the past. It’s moving into the future. You’ll be able to discuss the slingstone hitch with anyone who comes along, regardless of whether they’re for tying it at the bight or at the end.’ His smile widened, holding her. Touching her without touching. ‘You and Sam should be right now. With your frogs and your knots.’

‘I…yes.’ He was right, of course. She should have done this before. This made it home.

Almost.

Home was where the heart was. But where was her heart now?

‘Would you like some coffee before you leave?’

He was looking at her strangely and she wanted him to stop it. Or did she? ‘No. Thank you.’

‘What’s time’s your flight tomorrow?’ She was sounding like an inane fool but at least she was sounding. It was hard to make her voice work at all.

‘Early.’

‘Oh.’

‘I should go, then.’

‘Yes.’

They were so close. So close. She could reach out and touch him. Reach out and take him…

And then what? A one-night stand? More of Jackson being unfaithful to the unknown Cara?

She wasn’t a one-night stand sort of girl, she thought numbly, and she looked up to find Jackson’s eyes searching hers. She knew he was thinking exactly what she was thinking. Wanting what she was wanting.

‘Molly…’

‘Don’t.’ One more word and she’d fall blindly into his arms. He wasn’t asking anything of her. He wasn’t. But he just had to stand there and he was asking without words…

‘Go.’

He looked at her for a long, long moment and then finally he nodded. As if a decision had been made but it hadn’t been easy. ‘Maybe it’s just as well.’

‘Yes,’ she snapped, taut to breaking point. ‘After all, there is Cara.’

‘There is.’

‘So you shouldn’t even be here now. Or doesn’t Cara mind you spending evenings with other women?’

Another moment passed. Then he caught himself, reached into a shirt pocket and produced a card. ‘This is where you can find Roger Francis,’ he told her, and his voice had switched suddenly back into formality. Business. ‘He’s expecting your call. By the time I come back I’d hope you’ll have instigated legal proceedings against your Michael.’

‘He’s not my Michael.’

‘Well, against your money.’ He smiled and then put a finger under her chin, dragging her gaze up to meet his. ‘I’m sorry, Molly.’

‘Sorry?’ She took a deep breath. ‘Sorry for what?

‘I think you know.’ He shrugged and gave a derisory laugh. It was directed straight at himself. ‘Sorry that I have nothing more to give.’

And he bent and kissed her-hard on the mouth-a swift, demanding kiss that asked no questions and required no response.

It was a kiss goodbye.

And then he was gone, striding along the corridor and out of sight. Gone.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

‘MOLLY?’

‘Yes.’ Sigh. ‘What is it, Angela?’

There was a long pause as Angela absorbed the inflection in Molly’s voice. ‘Then you’re really mad at me,