Читать книгу Tempted By The Royal - Michelle Celmer - Страница 15

Abbey came into the kitchen the next day and sat by the prep counter to watch Molly chop carrots and celery into sticks. For her sister to show up at the restaurant two days in a row was unusual, and Molly found herself wondering if Abbey had come in to see her or hoping to see Eric again—a question that was answered when Abbey said, “Jason came home last night.”

Molly stopped chopping to look at her sister, trying to decide if this was good news, trying not to resent the fact that her sister didn’t see anything wrong with asking for advice about her marriage to the man she’d stolen from Molly.

“Do you want to reconcile?” she asked.

Abbey nodded. “I just want everything back the way it was before he left.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“He said there are changes that need to be made.” Abbey pouted.

“What kind of changes?”

“For starters, he wants me to get a job.”

And the only job Abbey had ever wanted was to be a wife and mother—and Molly suspected it was the unrealized latter part of that desire that was the cause of most of her sister’s marital problems.

“It’s not that I’m opposed to working,” Abbey said. “I’ve just never been really good at anything.”

“You’ve never tried to be good at anything,” Molly corrected. “Except shopping.”

Her sister brightened at that. “I could get a job as a personal shopper.”

“At least then you’d be spending other people’s money.”

“Do you really think I’m qualified?”

“I have no doubt you’re qualified, but I’m not sure there’s much demand for personal shoppers outside the big cities.”

Abbey sighed. “You’re probably right.”

Another few minutes passed, during which Molly tried to discard the thought that popped into her mind, but it refused to go away until finally, with more resignation than enthusiasm, she said, “You could work here.”

Abbey stared at her as if she’d suggested that she dance naked on the tables instead of serve meals to the customers seated at them.

“Work?” she echoed. “Here?”

“I know it’s an odd concept, but there are several of us who actually do so. The pay’s not great,” Molly admitted. “But the tips are pretty good.” And after the abrupt and unexpected departure of one of her waitresses, Molly was desperate for another pair of hands to work the dinner shift. She’d been doing everything she could to help out herself, but she was already feeling the effects of the extra hours on her feet, and knew that couldn’t continue.

“Tips?”

“Of course, you’d have to learn to smile instead of scowl if you wanted to earn any.”

Abbey sighed. “When can I start?”

“Four o’clock.”

Molly wasn’t surprised that Abbey showed up less than five minutes before her shift was scheduled to begin, but she was pleased that her sister apparently remembered the routine from when she’d waited tables through high school. Abbey caught on to the routine quickly and managed to take orders and deliver meals with little mishap. She finished her first shift with sore feet and a pocketful of tips that, when added up, elicited a weary smile.

Abbey worked again the next afternoon, and the day after that, and by the end of the week, Molly was actually starting to think the arrangement might work out.

Though there hadn’t been an empty table during the midday rush, the restaurant was now mostly empty and Molly poured herself a cup of decaf and took a seat at the bar. There was a table with three men in suits who were finishing up a business meeting along with their lunches, another at which was seated a couple of older women who seemed more interested in conversation than their meals, and at a booth in the back, a young couple lingering over coffee.

Molly was proud that her business appealed to such an eclectic group, and pleased that the additional funds she’d spent on advertising over the past twelve months was proving to be a good investment. Shea’s had once been “the little roadside bar just past the sharp curve in the highway,” now it was “that fabulous little restaurant just past the sharp curve in the highway.”

She hadn’t taken the first sip of her coffee when her brother-in-law came in.

“If you’re looking for your wife, she just left.”

“I’m not,” Jason said, then walked behind the bar, poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down beside her.

It was the first time she’d seen him in the restaurant since he and Abbey separated a few months earlier, and she was as curious as she was wary about his reasons for being here now. Because he, too, didn’t seem to think there was anything wrong with dumping his problems in Molly’s lap, despite having dumped her to marry her sister.

“I have a business proposition to discuss with you.”

Now she was really curious, but she just sipped her decaf and waited for him to explain.

Instead of speaking, he set a cashier’s check beside her cup.

Her eyes popped open wide as she took in the numbers.

“Where did you get that kind of cash?”

“My severance package from Raycroft Industries.”

She’d read about the proposed merger of the local manufacturing plant with a multinational corporation several months earlier and had wondered how it might affect her brother-in-law, who had worked there for the past half-dozen years.

“I’d like to buy into a partnership,” he said.

For the amount of the check he was offering, he could buy the whole restaurant, and Molly was almost tempted to let him do so. She’d certainly feel more comfortable selling out than going into partnership with a man who had betrayed her once already. “Why?” she asked instead.

“I have managerial experience and I think I’d enjoy working here—and working with Abbey might give both of us something to focus on other than the baby she wants so badly and can’t have.”

Which led Molly to suspect that Abbey had decided she’d rather own the restaurant than simply work in it—and, like everything else she’d ever wanted, there was a man willing to give it to her.

“Is this what Abbey wants?” she asked him.

“If she had her way, we’d spend the whole amount on fertility treatments. But I think she could be convinced to agree to this.”

Molly felt an instinctive tug of sympathy for what her sister and brother-in-law had been through, and a twinge of guilt that what they’d struggled for so desperately had happened so easily for her. And then a surge of annoyance at letting herself experience even that momentary twinge when it was Abbey and Jason together who had destroyed her own dreams.

“Have you really thought about this, or is it an impulse?”

“You know I don’t do anything on impulse,” Jason said.

“Weddings in Las Vegas aside?”

“It was one wedding, and it was because Abbey and I didn’t know how to tell you that we’d fallen in love.”

Molly sighed, because she knew it was true and because—nine years later—she was over it, or at least she felt that she should be. Was it the depth of the hurt that made her heart still ache? Or was it something lacking inside herself that made her unable to truly forgive their betrayal?

In either case, she knew it was time she got over her resentment and got on with her life, and maybe Jason was offering her the chance to finally do just that.

“Speaking of weddings,” she said, “I’m going to Tesoro del Mar for Fiona and Scott’s.”

Although Abbey was the bride’s cousin, too, she’d never been as close to Fiona as Molly was. And Fiona had never forgiven her for stealing Molly’s fiancé, holding so tightly to her grudge against Abbey that she hadn’t even wanted to invite her youngest cousin to the wedding. It was their grandmother who had insisted that she do the right thing, and while Abbey and Jason would be invited to attend the rescheduled reception in a few months, Fiona refused to extend the close circle who had been invited to the island ceremony to include them.

“I was going to ask Karen and Sam to cover my night shifts,” Molly continued, “but if you wanted to take them instead, it would give you a chance to see if this is what you really want, before making a final decision.”

He reached for her hand as she pushed her stool back. “Thanks, Molly. I know you don’t owe me anything, but I appreciate this opportunity.”

“Don’t screw it up.”

“I won’t,” he promised.

When Eric walked into Shea’s, he saw Molly holding hands with another man and felt the churn of dark and unfamiliar emotions in his belly. He had no claim to her. One night of sex, no matter how spectacular, gave him no proprietary right, but that knowledge didn’t negate the fact that when he’d seen the other man reach for her, he’d felt his own hands curl into fists and heard only one thought in his mind—mine.

She was on her way to the door when she saw him a minute later. She smiled easily, as if she hadn’t just been cozied up with some other guy.

“You’re a little late for lunch today, aren’t you?” she asked him.

“I had lunch with Fiona and Scott today,” he told her, responding in a similarly casual tone.

“And you’re early for dinner,” she prompted.

He managed to smile. “I actually came to see you, if you’ve got a few minutes.”

“Can we take those minutes upstairs? I’ve been here since eight and I want a change of scenery and popcorn.” She started up to her apartment without waiting to see if he agreed.

He followed.

She unlocked the door, kicked off her shoes and moved into the kitchen. Snagging a box of Orville Redenbacher’s from the cupboard, she unwrapped the cellophane from a package and pressed a couple of buttons on the microwave.

He frowned, remembering what she’d said about having been at the restaurant since eight. “That isn’t your lunch, is it?”

“Not really. I snacked on some cheese balls and potato skins in the kitchen, but I was suddenly craving popcorn.” She frowned at that.

“Vegetables are one of the food groups, too,” he pointed out.

The popcorn had mostly stopped popping, and she smiled as she opened the door of the microwave and pulled the bag out. “And corn is a vegetable.”

She tore open the top of the bag and a puff of steam and rich, buttery scent escaped. “Why did you want to see me?”

“You mean, other than the fact that I really like looking at you?” he couldn’t help but tease, and had the pleasure of watching her cheeks flush.

“Other than that,” she agreed dryly.

“I wanted to let you know that I finalized the travel arrangements. Scott and Fiona are coming with me tomorrow, but you can fly in with Scott’s parents next Wednesday, if that works better for you.”

“My grandparents aren’t coming at all?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Fiona didn’t seem surprised.”

“I’m not really, either,” she admitted. “I was just hoping…Neither of us have our parents anymore. My mom walked out, my dad died, and Fiona’s mom and dad were both killed in a car accident a few years back, so aside from each other and Abbey, our grandparents are the only real family we have.”

“Do you want me to talk to them, see if I could change their minds?”

She smiled. “Thanks, but no one changes my grandmother’s mind about anything once she’s made it up and she refuses to go anywhere near an airplane.”

“So do you want to come tomorrow or next week?” Eric asked her.

She hesitated, then said, “I think tomorrow could work.”

He was both pleased and surprised by her response. “I thought you didn’t want to be away from the restaurant for too long.”

“I didn’t,” she admitted. “But I had an interesting conversation with someone before you showed up and I’m starting to think that this is something I have to do.”

“An interesting conversation with the guy at the bar?” He shouldn’t have asked—he knew it was none of his business. But the question had been eating away at him since he’d seen them together, noted the obvious familiarity in their interactions with one another.

“Jason,” she said, and nodded.

“And who is Jason?”

“My ex-fiancé.”

He scowled. “You were engaged to that guy?”

“A long time ago,” she said.

Which made him feel marginally better until he remembered that the guy had been holding her hand not such a long time ago.

“What time tomorrow?” she asked, in what seemed to him an obvious attempt to change the topic but might simply have been a desire to know the specifics of their travel plans.

“Six-thirty,” he told her.

“A.M.?”

“Yeah.”

Molly crumpled up the now empty popcorn bag and tossed it into the garbage. “Then I’m going to kick you out now so I can pack because I have to be back downstairs in an hour.”

As usual, Molly worked until closing that night. Jason came in at ten and stayed behind the bar with his sister-in-law, shadowing her every movement. Usually Molly could close everything up and be cashed out within half an hour of locking the door behind the last customer, but having to explain every step to Jason meant the routine took more than twice as long.

Still, she was awake and ready when the knock came at the door at precisely 6:30 a.m. the next morning—if not exactly alert.

She was surprised that Eric had come up instead of sending his driver, and more than a little disconcerted when he swore softly in Spanish and reached out to her.

“Mi Dios.” He brushed a thumb gently beneath her eye, tracing the purple shadows she hadn’t even tried to cover with makeup. “You don’t look as if you’ve slept.”

“I got a few hours,” she said, shifting away, as much from the casual intimacy of the gesture as the surge of warmth evoked by his tender touch, to reach for her suitcase.

He immediately pried the handle from her fingers. “I’ve got it.”

She lifted a brow. “You take control quite easily for a man who’s probably had servants picking up after him his whole life.”

“No one waits on anyone else in the navy, regardless of title or rank,” he told her.

The statement reminded her not just that he’d served his country but of the scars on his body that had been earned in that service. But instead of thinking of the injury that had ended his career, she found herself thinking of his taut, hard muscles and warm, smooth skin and the heat of his body moving against hers. Just the memories were enough to make her body tingle all over, stirring up yearnings that had been long dormant until the first night he’d walked into the bar.

Over the past several weeks, she’d managed—with effort—to keep those memories at bay. Mostly, anyway. But her tired brain was no match for the rising heat in her blood evoked by his nearness. She’d read about the enhanced sensual awareness that many women experienced during pregnancy and knew that she was one of them.

“Damn hormones,” she muttered under her breath.

He turned. “Did you say something?”

She just shook her head and followed him down the stairs.

While Scott and Fiona were cuddled close together, talking about the wedding or the future or whatever else soon-to-be-marrieds talked about, Eric watched Molly sleep.

He’d watched her sleep the night they’d spent together in her bed, when exhaustion had finally overwhelmed the passion that brought them together. He wanted her now as much as he’d wanted her then. The only thing that had prevented him from waking her and slipping into the wet heat of her sexy little body was the realization that they’d depleted the store of condoms he’d bought from the vending machine in the men’s room.

As he watched her now, he wondered what it was about this one woman that had taken hold of him. And he was baffled that the woman who had once been so warm and willing in his arms was so determined to keep him at arm’s length now.

He knew his reappearance in her life had thrown her for a loop, but he suspected that there was more going on than that. It was as if, in the few weeks that he’d been gone, her entire life had been turned upside down. He wasn’t egotistical enough to believe that he was responsible for that. As spectacular as their night together had been, neither of them had expected it would be any more than that.

But he got the impression there was something going on in her life that weighed on her mind, that was responsible for the shadows beneath her eyes and the wariness in her gaze. Or maybe he was making a big deal out of nothing. Maybe her exhaustion was simply the result of having been up too late last night and needing to be up again early this morning. Knowing the hours that she worked, he was glad she’d managed to shut down and rest for a few hours during their journey.

He was also glad she’d agreed to come to Tesoro del Mar in advance of the wedding. Not that there was a lot of planning to do—the palace staff would take care of most of the details without blinking an eye, as they’d done for the prince regent’s wedding six years earlier and the celebration of Marcus’s nuptials three years after that.

One of the perks of being a royal, as Marcus liked to say, was having staff to whom to delegate. Ironic, considering that Marcus had met his wife while traveling in the United States under their mother’s maiden name so as to keep his royal status hidden, and had spent several months having tasks—such as mucking out stalls at his wife’s Thoroughbred training facility—delegated to him. Of course, she hadn’t been his wife at the time, and she hadn’t been thrilled to learn the true identity of her stable hand, but once again, their feelings for one another had proven stronger than any of the obstacles between them—one of which had been the accident that ended Eric’s naval career.

He felt a twinge in his hip and shifted in his seat. A phantom pain was brought on by even the most fleeting flashback of the moment that had changed his life. He was getting more adept at pushing the memories—and the accompanying panic—aside. He did so now, focusing his thoughts again on his friend’s imminent wedding.

No one outside of the family had ever been married at the palace, but Rowan and Marcus had both agreed that Scott was part of their family even if it wasn’t Santiago blood in his veins.

After Marcus and Jewel married, there had been a lot of speculation throughout the media that Eric would be next—which he had to agree was likely since he was the last unmarried Santiago brother and his oldest nephew was still just a teenager. And he certainly had no philosophical or personal objections to marriage—he’d just never met a woman who made him think in terms of forever. He’d never even met a woman who lingered in his mind after he’d left her bed…until Molly.

He turned away from the window to confirm that she was still sleeping. She was, and in sleep, her worries seemed to finally—if only temporarily—be forgotten. Her features were relaxed, the dark fan of her lashes casting a shadow against her pale cheek. He knew her skin was soft, and smoother even than the finest silk. And hidden beneath her lashes were eyes of the most startling and vivid shade of blue, eyes that had darkened and clouded in the throes of passion, the color shifting and changing not unlike the moods of a turbulent sea.

Mi Dios, he was getting turned on just by watching her sleep. Watching her sleep and remembering, and remembering—wanting.

Sexual frustration was a new—and not at all pleasant—experience for him. In the past, whenever he’d wanted the companionship of a woman, it had been easy enough to come by. But after the accident he’d turned his attention to rehabilitation. He’d been so intensely focused on healing his body that he hadn’t allowed anything to distract him from the task. Not until the night he’d walked into Shea’s Bar & Grill and spotted Molly working the tap.

Almost three years of abstinence seemed a reasonable explanation for the extent of his reaction to her, and his response to the experience of making love with her. Afterward, he managed to convince himself that the sex hadn’t really been as spectacular as he remembered, that it was just so long since he’d had sex that the experience only seemed heightened.

And yet, back in Tesoro del Mar, where the women were plentiful and beautiful and willing, there hadn’t been one who had tempted him into her bed. Not one who tempted him to forget about Molly.

She shifted, her head rolling from one side to the other. She hadn’t reclined her seat—probably because she hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but exhaustion had won out. A slight furrow creased her brow as she shifted again, still asleep but obviously not very comfortable. She drew up one knee and leaned back so that her head fell against his shoulder.

Her hair tickled his cheek, the scent of her shampoo teased his nostrils, and he held his breath while he waited for her to wake. She didn’t, but snuggled in, apparently finding a position that was finally comfortable—at least for her. Because while he didn’t mind having her close, he was suddenly uncomfortably aware of her nearness, her softness, her femininity—and everything that was male within him responded.

He glanced over at Scott and Fiona, saw that they were still cuddled close together, talking quietly, so he just shifted his seat back and settled in, while Molly’s scent—and his desire—continued to torment him.