you want?” he demanded as he swung the door open wide, then stared at his visitor in utter shock.
The woman standing in front of him had to be a ghost or a vision because she sure as hell couldn’t be real. He wondered if he could be hungover and having a nightmare at the same time. Molly Gifford had walked out of his life without looking back.
“Molly?” he finally asked stupidly.
“Hi, there.” She raised a hand before dropping her arm back to her side.
Her familiar voice assured him he wasn’t dreaming. And a thorough once-over told him she hadn’t been suffering during their time apart. She wore tight-fitting jeans tucked into red cowboy boots he remembered well, mostly because he’d envisioned those legs wrapped around his waist as he drove into her moist, slick heat.
Not that he’d had the chance. During the last months he’d decided that he must’ve been the only guy in the history of mankind to fall in love with a woman he’d never screwed.
He cleared his throat and leaned against the wall for support. Between his aching head and cotton-filled mouth, thinking let alone speaking clearly was beyond him.
Her hair had grown longer, the blond strands falling over her shoulders, and a wisp of side bangs dipped over her forehead. She brushed them out of her eyes and studied him, her nose crinkling. “I woke you, didn’t I?” she asked, her normally confident voice tinged with uncertainty.
Suddenly he felt self-conscious, too, and he ran his hand through his messed-up hair. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s a long story. Too long to tell from the hallway. May I come in?” She leaned up on her toes, trying to look past him into the apartment.
He was barely awake, his head pounded like a son of a bitch, and now Molly decided to show up for a talk. “Yeah, yeah. Come on in.” Daniel gestured for her to come inside.
She walked past him. Her fragrant, delicious scent smacked him in the face, reminding him like nothing else could of all he’d never have. Of why he was living day to day and not giving a shit about much of anything at all.
She gingerly stepped toward the TV room and he followed, taking in his living space at a glance. “I’d ask you to sit but as you can see there’s no room.”
“I can see that.” She turned toward him, questions in her eyes.
And in her brown eyes, he saw his life for what it had become. Really saw things for the first time. As a teen in foster care and a later a juvy facility, he’d promised himself he’d overcome his past-not just the parents who hadn’t wanted him, but the dirt and poverty surrounding him. Although he lived in an upscale high-rise in Albany, he lived like his parents and foster parents had. Beer cans littered the table, papers legal and otherwise were strewn across the couch and the floor, and an empty pizza box sat open on the pass-through counter separating the kitchen from the rest of the apartment. Nothing like being caught at his worst by a woman he’d once have done anything to impress, Hunter thought. Somehow he managed not to wince.
He straightened his shoulders to face her. He didn’t owe Molly an explanation. He didn’t owe her a damn thing. “Molly, why the hell are you here?”
“Well-” She breathed in deep. His gaze settled on her chest, which rose and fell beneath her tight but unusually bland beige-colored tee. He hated the effect she had on him, hated himself for wanting her though he knew she no longer felt the same. Assuming she ever had.
“Hunter? Come back to bed.”
Allison. He’d forgotten all about her. “Shit.” He glanced upward, seeing his life reduced to nothingness like the lone cracks in the ceiling.
Allison shuffled into the room, his unbuttoned shirt wrapped around her body, secured only by her arms. “It’s cold in here alone, baby.”
“Oh my God. You have company,” Molly said, the stark horror in her voice clear.
“Who’s this?” Allison asked sleepily.
Molly jerked at the sound of Allison’s voice. “You weren’t sleeping. You were…” Her voice trailed off. “Oh God.”
And Hunter stood frozen, staring at Molly’s stricken expression. The pain in his head had nothing on the sudden gut-wrenching cramp in his stomach. He had no reason to feel guilty or feel as if he’d been caught doing something awful, like cheating on her. She’d left him.
“Hunter?” Allison asked again. “Who is she?”
“I’m…nobody. This was a mistake.” Molly pulled her bag closer to her side, turned and ran for the door.
Her sudden movement brought Hunter out of the hangover, out of the fog of the past year and out of the shock caused by seeing Molly again.
He turned to Allison long enough to issue an order. “Get dressed. Please. We’ll talk when I get back.” Then he bolted toward the open door and ran into the hall, following Molly.
He wasn’t fast enough. The elevator doors slammed shut before he could reach her.
“Dammit.” He slammed his fist against the closed metal doors, then headed for the stairwell instead.
CHAPTER TWO
MOLLY RAN until she reached her car. Her hands shook as she searched for her keys. Not an easy feat in a bag big enough to carry all the crap she kept with her that normally seemed necessary but wasn’t. Not when all she wanted to do was find her keys and drive far away fast.
Seeing Hunter again, rumpled from sleep yet still so disarming and sexy, had reawakened the woman inside her she’d buried in order to be part of a family instead. She’d looked him over without shame, noticing how he’d left the button on his jeans undone. She’d been torn between staring at his razor-stubbled, handsome face or his bare chest and the light sprinkling of hair running low and disappearing into the waistband of worn denim. The brief glance had set her nerve endings tingling with sensual awareness and her heart pounding with sincere regret.
Yet before she could explain why she’d come or even make an overture of any sort, she’d been smacked in the face with evidence that he’d moved on.
It’s cold in here alone, baby.
Nausea swept through Molly and she shoved her hand into her bag once more, finally stabbing herself in the palm with her keys. She pulled them out and hit the open button on the remote just as she heard Hunter’s voice.
“Molly, wait.”
She shook her head. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d said this trip was a mistake. She’d find another way to save her father. Molly wasn’t a coward but she had no desire to face the man she’d interrupted mid-she-didn’t- want-to-know-what.
She and Hunter shared a history of barely beginning and prematurely ending before they had a chance to see what could blossom between them, but Molly knew that their feelings had been solid and real. She’d been the one to blow any chance they might have had.
She managed to open the car door but Hunter ran up beside her before she could get in.
“Hang on,” he said, his voice a command.
She steeled herself and turned to face him. In harsh daylight, he was still sexy enough to light a fire inside her, but now she saw more. The Hunter she knew was clean shaven, a meticulous dresser and concerned about impressions and what others thought of him. The man standing in front of her appeared as worn down and tired as his apartment had looked.
Still, she had to finish what she’d started. “Go back inside and forget I ever came by.”
He placed a hand on the top of the door window. “I can’t do that. You didn’t show up here for no reason, so what gives? Because I know this wasn’t a social call.”
Her stomach cramped at his cold, distant voice and her eyes filled with angry, frustrated tears. Well, she hadn’t expected him to jump for joy just because she’d decided to resurface. Rationally, she understood that. Emotionally was another story and she hadn’t been prepared for all the feelings seeing him again had stirred up.
Molly cleared her throat and reminded herself she’d come for a reason that had nothing to do with them.
