Читать книгу The Christmas Wedding Ring - Susan Mallery, Susan Mallery - Страница 11
ОглавлениеThere had been a mailbox with the house number at the bottom of the hill. As Molly shifted her car into first so it could climb the steep grade, she wondered if she’d made a mistake. Did Dylan really live up here?
When she rounded the last bend and saw the house sprawling in front of her, she became more convinced that she must have made a wrong turn somewhere. The structure was huge. All wood and glass. Its back end blended into the hill rising behind the house. The front overlooked the city and desert beyond. From where she’d stopped, she could see a four-car garage and what appeared to be part of a garden.
Molly sucked in a deep breath. This had to be the place. There had been only three other driveways on the street, and none of the numbers had even been close. She knew property was cheaper out here, but sheesh, she hadn’t expected a mansion. Looking at the impressive structure, she was glad she hadn’t known about it before. Otherwise, she never would have found the courage to approach him.
She pulled her car to the side, in front of one of the garage’s double doors, then turned off the engine. She decided to leave her suitcase in the trunk until she was absolutely sure this was the place. She moved up the walk and saw that the wide front door was decorated with a large, luxurious wreath. She paused. Dylan didn’t strike her as the wreath type. She extracted the key he’d given her. Here goes nothing, she thought.
The key turned easily. He’d told her there wasn’t an alarm to worry about, so she simply stepped inside.
The great room ceiling stretched up at least twenty feet. Huge windows brought in the light from outside, illuminating dark wood beams, white stucco walls and, near the hearth, the fanciest Christmas tree she’d ever seen. To get to it, she had to cross over a cobblestone bridge and indoor stream. A stream?
Molly blinked several times, but the flowing water didn’t go away. It continued to slide down a rock formation on her right, then under the bridge to a shallow pool on her left. Several fish swam through the clear pond.
What on earth had she gotten herself into?
As she approached the tree, what looked like millions of tiny white lights blinked to life. Motion detectors? On a Christmas tree?
Although the tree was beautiful, Molly thought, it struck her as a little formal. No colored lights, no homemade decorations. In fact, every decoration on the tree was white or gold, or some combination of the two. Porcelain angels frozen mid-song.
The furniture was oversized. Dark blue leather sofas, glass-topped tables and more windows. The view was spectacular. She turned in a slow circle, taking in the attractive floor lamps, the displayed artwork, the dining room beyond. She figured her entire condo would fit comfortably into the space occupied by these two rooms alone. And there was still plenty of house for her to see.
Nearly eleven years ago, when Janet had first thought about breaking up with Dylan, Molly remembered listening at the door as her sister had talked to their mother, trying to decide what to do. Janet had been concerned about their differences in lifestyle and expectations. Dylan had grown up on the poor side of town, in a single-wide trailer. All he’d seemed to care about was his bike and Janet. She’d wanted a man with ambition. At the time Molly had thought her sister was incredibly stupid. Ambition was all well and good, but they were talking about Dylan Black. He was worth ten lawyers or doctors.
As Molly continued to study the impressive room, she realized she’d been right. A smile pulled at her mouth. He’d come a long way from that ratty old trailer. Maybe, while they were away together, she could ask him to tell her the story of what had happened to bring him here.
She returned to her car and collected her suitcase, then went back inside. Dylan had described the basic layout of the house, telling her to make herself at home. By nature, she wasn’t much of a snoop, and even if she’d wanted to look around, this place was way too intimidating for her taste. So she didn’t poke her head in all the open doors along the hallway. Instead, she headed for the last door on the left, and found it led to a guest room, just as he’d promised.
The four-poster queen-sized bed was attractive, as was the plain pine furniture. The comforter was a floral print, with matching drapes at the windows. A few tasteful paintings decorated the cream-colored walls. Through a door on her left was a huge bathroom, complete with spa tub. Everything was perfectly clean. Dylan obviously had the use of a cleaning service. Or maybe someone came in a few days a week to tidy up.
She set her suitcase on the bed and opened it. Dylan had told her she would have to pack light for their adventure. After all, they were heading out on one of his motorcycles. A flicker of excitement tickled her tummy. She couldn’t believe she was actually going to do this. She, little Molly Anderson, was going away with Dylan Black. It was, she thought, a Christmas miracle of sorts. And lately miracles had been in short supply in her life.
She sorted through clothing, deciding that casual would be best. She settled on jeans, shirts and a few toiletries. An oversized cotton T-shirt would work as a nightgown.
Fifteen minutes later she’d stacked the clothes she was taking neatly on the dresser and had secured the rest of her things in her suitcase. She stared at the ring Dylan had given back to her. She felt strange taking it with her, but she wasn’t about to leave it behind, either. She shrugged, then grabbed a tissue from a ceramic container in the bathroom, wrapped the ring and tucked it in an inner pocket of her toiletry bag.
Molly glanced at her watch. She had a few hours before Dylan would be home. He’d told her about a library at the other end of the house. A good book would be a great distraction, but first she had to make a few phone calls. She pulled out her cell phone, settled on the bed, and checked to see if she had any messages.
None.
It was really too soon to expect an answer, she told herself silently, willing away the disappointment. But it was so hard not to hope. So hard not to want a miracle—just one more. Was that asking too much?
She dialed another number. The phone was picked up on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Hi, it’s me.”
“Molly!” Janet’s voice was warm and welcoming. “How are you? Or should I ask, where are you? You’ve left already, haven’t you?”
“Uh-huh. I’m—” Molly stared at the beautiful guest room and grinned. “You’ll never guess where I am.”
Her sister chuckled. “I hate playing guessing games. I’m lousy at them. You know that. Okay. Christmas shopping in New York City.”
“Nope. One more try, then I’ll tell you. But I’ll give you a hint. It’s warm and there’s a terrific view.”
“Oh, that’s easy. Hawaii. How great!” She hummed a few bars about a Hawaiian Christmas.
Molly laughed. “Sorry, Janet, you’re not even close. I’m in Dylan Black’s guest room.”
There was dead silence on the phone. Molly could picture her sister’s mouth dropping open. She would form words without sound for at least thirty seconds.
A sputtering came over the phone, followed by a squawk. “You’re where?”
“I know, I know. It’s too strange. But remember the ring I was talking about?”
“Of course. It was actually my ring.”
“You dumped him,” Molly reminded her. “When I found it, I remembered what he’d said about promising me an adventure. I couldn’t figure out where else to go, so here I am.”
“Honey, are you all right?” Janet’s voice was low with concern. “I know you had a crush on him and all, but this is very strange. It’s been years. You don’t know the man anymore. Are you sure this is safe?”
Molly thought about that for a second. “You’re not saying anything I haven’t already told myself. I know this sounds strange, and in a way it is. But I didn’t know what to do. If nothing else, Dylan is a fabulous distraction. And I need that right now.”
“He’s not a serial killer, is he? Not that he would tell you if he was.”
Molly glanced around the room. “I don’t think killing pays this well,” she told her sister. “His business is very successful. The house is great. Big and on the top of a hill.” A thought occurred to her. “Janet, are you mad because I’m here? Does it bother you?”
“If you’re asking whether I’m over Dylan, please don’t concern yourself. I’ve been over him for years. You know I love Thomas. It’s been fourteen years, and the thrill is still there for us. Dylan was my first serious boyfriend and I’ll always have fond memories of him, but it wouldn’t have worked. We both knew that.” Janet drew in a breath. “I’m sure he’s doing well, but he hasn’t changed, Molly. He’s still a dangerous kind of man. I don’t think he’s ever married. Maybe he’s not capable of that kind of commitment.”
Molly stared at the phone. “We’re taking an adventure, not getting involved.”
“Things happen. I just want you to take care of yourself. You’re in a vulnerable place right now. I don’t want him to hurt you.”
“You don’t have to worry. He would have to be slightly interested in me to hurt me and we both know that’s not going to happen.”
“Don’t,” Janet pleaded. “You’re adorable. Any man would be lucky to have you.”
Molly tugged at her jeans, pulling the fabric away from her generous thighs. “Uh-huh. I do have that problem with all those men lining up outside the condo. It was so difficult to get away this morning, but I try to be gentle when I reject them.”
“You’re a brat.”
“Just a minute ago you said I was adorable.”
Janet laughed. “Molly, you make me crazy. Were there any messages?”
Molly’s humor faded instantly. “No.”
“It’s really too soon to have heard.”
“I know.”
“Everything is fine.”
“I know that, too.” She knew it, but she didn’t believe it.
“So where are you two off to?”
“I have no idea,” Molly said. “Dylan is picking our destination.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“I’m not sure about anything, Janet. But if you’re asking me if I’m sure I want to go with Dylan, the answer is yes. There’s nothing I want more. I need to escape and he’s the perfect way to do that. So please try not to worry.”
“I won’t worry if you promise to stay in touch.”
“I will. I swear.”
Her sister sighed. “I love you, kid. Take care of yourself.”
“I love you, too. Give Thomas and the girls a kiss for me. Bye.”
She hung up the receiver. Without Janet’s support, she wouldn’t have gotten through the past week and a half. It was nice to have someone to worry about her. However, for the next few days she wasn’t going to think about that, or about anything but having a wonderful time on her adventure.
* * *
Dylan automatically hit the button on the remote that controlled the garage door. As he slowed, he saw Molly’s dark blue compact parked off to the side. That gave him pause. He wasn’t used to coming home to find someone in his house. In the two years he’d lived there, he’d had overnight company maybe three times. When he was involved with a woman, he generally stayed at her place. He preferred being able to leave when he liked and not having to ask her to go when he wanted to be alone.
He stared at the sensible American car. It was basic transportation, nothing fun, nothing flashy. But then, flashy wasn’t Molly’s style, or it hadn’t been back when she was a teenager. He eased into his parking space and turned off the engine. After collecting his briefcase, he closed the garage door and entered the house.
“I’m home,” he called, then frowned to wonder if he’d ever done that before. It was old television sitcom cliché. “Honey, I’m home.”
“Hi,” Molly answered. From the direction of her voice, he would guess she was in the library.
Dylan left his briefcase on the kitchen counter, collected a couple of beers from the refrigerator and went in search of his guest. He found her curled up in one of the leather recliners, reading. A floor lamp cast a warm circle of light over her and the book. Her feet were tucked under her and her shoes were neatly off to the side of the chair on the floor.
She hadn’t noticed him and seemed engrossed in her book. For a moment Dylan simply watched her. He couldn’t shake the odd feeling of knowing she’d been in the house while he was still at work. At the office he’d managed to focus on what he was doing and relegate their lunch to the back of his mind. But from time to time he’d found himself remembering something she’d said or picturing a quick movement of her hands. While he hadn’t been excited about coming home to find her here, he hadn’t dreaded it, either. The few occasions he’d let one of his women spend the night at his place he had felt trapped and awkward. Maybe the difference was he’d known Molly for a long time. More likely it was because they weren’t involved, nor were they likely to be.
He moved toward her. “I probably should have asked if you like beer,” he said, holding out one of the bottles. “Except for water and coffee, it’s about all I have. I don’t do much entertaining.”
She took the offered refreshment and smiled. “Thanks, it’s fine. I confess I did take a peek in the refrigerator earlier. I had an apple. I could tell you don’t spend a whole lot of time cooking.”
“Never learned how.” He took the seat across from hers and settled on the comfortable leather cushion. After a long swallow of beer, he loosened his tie, then pulled it free of his shirt.
“At the risk of sounding like a suburban wife, how was your day?” Her voice was teasing.
He liked that she was comfortable enough to kid him. Earlier, at the restaurant, he’d seen a lot of tension in her body. She’d downed her margarita as if it were a lifeline...or maybe the Dutch courage she’d needed to ask him about going away. Whatever it was, he was pleased that she’d finally relaxed a little.
“I’ve been busy. There’s a lot to get through before I can leave.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and holding the bottle of beer in both hands. “I’m not going to be much of a host tonight,” he said. “I have a briefcase full of work to finish up before morning. I fig—” He caught her smile. “What’s so funny?”
She flicked her fingers toward him. “Nothing, it’s just—” She shrugged. “Let’s say you’re not exactly what I expected. The Dylan I remember wore jeans and a black leather jacket. You’re in a suit, with a tie. You’re so respectable.”
“Tell me about it,” he grumbled. “I never thought it would come to this. I used to work in jeans all the time. Half my day was spent assembling bikes or fiddling with designs. Now I push around papers. I’ve become everything I hated when I was a kid. I wear a tie—something I swore I’d never do. I drive a Mercedes. I get my clothes dry-cleaned.”
“You have a very impressive Christmas tree.”
“I can’t take credit for that,” he said. “My decorator does them as a fundraiser for the local food bank. I tried to just give her the money, but she insists I get the tree and all the trimmings.”
“You’re a responsible citizen.”
“Worse. I’m old. Just last week I was in the grocery store and there were these three teenage boys making a lot of noise. Without thinking, I told them to quiet down. They walked off, but not before calling me ‘an old man.’ I realized they’re right. I am old.”
Molly burst out laughing. “You’re not even thirty-five. That’s not old.”
“It is to a fifteen-year-old.”
“Do you really care what those boys think?”
“No, it’s just—” He couldn’t explain it. Somehow everything had changed. He didn’t know when or how that had happened, but it was one of the reasons he wanted to go away. He needed to clear his head and figure out what was important.
“I sold out,” he said glumly, and wondered if he was about to do it again. Would he do what his lawyer and several other people had suggested and sell his company, or would he maintain his independence?
“You’ve become successful,” Molly said. “There’s a difference. You should be proud of yourself.”
Several strands of curly hair had escaped from her braid. They fluttered by her face and touched the top of her shoulder. Sometime in the afternoon she’d rolled up the sleeves of her shirt, exposing wrists and forearms. She had curves. Evie’s assessment had been that she was average. Dylan wasn’t sure what he thought of Molly. She wasn’t what he was used to in a woman. Okay, so no one would ever call her beautiful, but in this light, gesturing as she talked and smiling, she was sort of pretty. She had a sincerity he liked. Molly was a genuine person—he didn’t know many people he could say that about these days.
“Are you concerned the price is too high?” she asked. “Are you thinking that you’ve been forced to give up too much to get what you wanted?”
She saw way more than he was comfortable with.
“Too much serious conversation,” he said lightly, and rose to his feet. “If you looked in the refrigerator, you know I don’t have food around. How do you feel about pizza for dinner?”
“Sounds fine.”
“I know a great place that delivers. What would you like on it?”
“Anything.” She stood up, as well. “Do you want me to call?”
“No, I have the number memorized. Single guy who lives alone—no surprise there, right? I’m going to put on jeans and call the pizza place. Then I need to get started on my work.”
Molly held up her book. “Don’t worry about entertaining me. I’ll be fine.”
“I appreciate that. I don’t want this stuff hanging over me while we’re away.” He started for the door, then remembered something. “I’d like to leave about noon tomorrow. I thought we’d go to your place on our way out of town so you can drop off your car. Otherwise you’ll have to come by here when we get back and that’ll be nearly an hour out of your way.”
“That’s fine,” she said. “So we’re not heading east?”
If they were, leaving her car here would make more sense.
“Nope, but that’s all I’m going to say.”
“I think I like the idea of a pleasant surprise,” she told him.
They chatted for a couple more minutes, then he left the library and made his way to his bedroom. The guest room was at the other end of the hall. He’d forgotten to ask Molly if she’d found everything she needed. So much for being a good host. But when he returned to the library, she was gone. He ordered their pizza, collected his briefcase and started to work.
About a half hour later, there was a faint knock on the door. He called an absentminded, “Come in” but didn’t look up from the computer.
“Dinner’s here,” Molly told him. She placed a large plate with several slices of steaming pizza in front of him, along with a fresh beer. Before he could do more than thank her, she was gone.
Dylan stared at the closed door, torn between work and curiosity. Then he figured he’d better get back to his spreadsheet and turned his attention back to his papers.
* * *
It was nearly 1:30 p.m. the next afternoon when Molly closed the front door of her condo behind her. She could see through the courtyard to the street, where Dylan waited for her. She’d parked her car, taken in her big suitcase and checked for messages. Now she was ready to begin.
Her stomach tightened with excitement and a little bit of nerves. For a second she thought about calling the whole thing off. After all, she barely knew the man. What on earth had she been thinking when she’d asked him to take her on an adventure?
“I’m not going to back out now,” she said softly. “If I do, I’ll be stuck on my own. I refuse to spend the next two weeks waiting for the phone to ring.”
That resolved, she squared her shoulders and walked to the front of the building.
When Dylan saw her, he straightened and grabbed the extra helmet strapped on the seat behind him. He’d already loaded her small bag of clothes and toiletries. Molly eyed the helmet, then the motorcycle, and had another bout of second thoughts.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Dylan said, coming up to her and handing her the helmet. “My bike is perfectly safe. I’ve been driving it for years, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Oddly enough, my physical safety doesn’t concern me,” she said lightly. “I was questioning my mental stability. This is completely insane. Or haven’t you figured that out?”
He pulled the helmet over her head and fastened the strap under her chin. “Then we’re both crazy, because I agreed to this, right?”
“I suppose.”
“Hey, that’s supposed to make you feel better.”
Barefoot, Dylan was a good eight or nine inches taller than her. In his boots, he towered over her. As she met his dark gaze, something shifted inside. A feeling, more a shot of heat than sizzle, but it certainly got her attention. Awareness, she thought. Of the man he was. At twenty Dylan had been a charmer. All grown up in his thirties, he was irresistible.
Talk about being silly, Molly thought. Finding Dylan attractive was about as useful as using a teaspoon to shovel your way out of an avalanche. Still, he would be a distraction. As long as she didn’t get carried away, she would be fine.
“You have everything?” he asked. “I didn’t really expect you to fit all your stuff in that one bag, so left a little room in mine.”
“I can follow directions,” she told him. “Don’t worry about me. I have everything I need.”
For reasons that still didn’t make sense, she’d even repacked the ring. She wanted it close. Maybe as a talisman against all that had happened.
“Then let’s get going,” he said, and handed her a leather jacket. “This will be a little big, but you’ll need it to stay warm. The breeze gets pretty stiff on the bike.”
He helped her into the jacket, then fastened it. His ministrations made her feel like a child. It was probably how he thought of her, but she wasn’t going to complain. For once, it was nice having someone take care of her.
When he was done, he touched her face. “There’s still time to change your mind,” he told her.
“I could say the same thing to you.”
“Nope. I’m going.”
“Then I’m going with you.”
“Great.” Dylan flashed her a quick smile that shocked her clear down to her thighs, then climbed onto the bike. He flipped down the clear plastic visor and motioned for her to get on behind him.
Molly swallowed hard. Ah, so she hadn’t thought everything through. She hadn’t really considered that being on a motorcycle with Dylan meant she would be riding behind him, touching him. Touching him in an incredibly intimate way.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or scream.
In the end she gave a strangled gargling sound, flipped down her visor and moved next to the bike. She had to maneuver her right leg over the seat, then sort of shift-slide into place. It wasn’t graceful. She felt awkward and clumsy and incredibly large as she settled onto the seat. The machine bounced with her movements.
Dylan started the bike. “You’re gonna have to hang on,” he called over the rumble of the engine. “You can stick your hands in my jacket pockets or wrap your arms around me. Whichever is more comfortable.”
“Sure,” she said, as if it were no big deal. Right. She, like millions of American women, spent most of her day on a bike behind a guy, touching him, pressing up against him, feeling—
The bike moved forward. Molly yelped and grabbed for Dylan. He accelerated down the street, then headed into a turn. The three of them—him, her and the bike—tilted toward the ground. She shrieked again and held on with all her strength, wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing.
“You’ve never been on a motorcycle before, have you?” Dylan called.
She shook her head, then realized he couldn’t see the movement. “No,” she said, speaking directly into his ear.
“Just relax. Don’t fight me or the bike. You’re going to be fine. I’ll keep you safe.”
Uh-huh. Sure. She believed that.
After a couple of minutes, she realized she was clenching her jaw. It was unlikely that keeping those muscles tight would do anything to prevent her immediate death, so she tried to relax that part of her body. They headed toward the Pacific Coast Highway. Molly felt herself start to hyperventilate.
They were going on PCH? The one with all the cliffs? Sure, the scenery was breathtaking from Mischief Bay and many miles north, but it wouldn’t look so beautiful when viewed from a motorcycle plummeting to the water below.
Molly ducked her head behind Dylan’s back and inwardly screamed as she felt them accelerate. She closed her eyes tight, prayed really hard and waited.
Minutes ticked by. There was no fiery crash, no screech of brakes, no impending sense of death. Gradually she raised her head. The clear visor kept most of the rushing air off her face and out of her eyes. If she kept her mouth closed, the issue of bugs seemed manageable.
They were moving north. She didn’t know how fast they were going, but it felt like flying. The air was cool. Dylan and jacket both kept her warm. She’d traveled this highway a thousand times before, yet everything looked different. It was as if she were seeing the world for the first time.
To their left, the Pacific went on forever, the blue sky uninterrupted by clouds. The sun, almost directly overhead, glinted off the white-capped waves. Dylan pointed toward the road ahead of them, and she laughed out loud when she spotted a man dressed as Santa Claus speeding toward them in a red convertible, beard flying. He honked as he passed.
She straightened a little, easing her death grip on Dylan’s midsection. The bike was more stable than she would have thought. She wouldn’t want to drive it or anything, but it wasn’t so bad being back here. The band of fear around her chest loosened just a little. For the first time in weeks, she was able to draw in a deep breath without feeling pain. The whole purpose of the journey was to live for the moment, she reminded herself. She couldn’t change what was going to happen. She could only deal with the now.
After a while, Molly started reading road signs. She put her mouth close to his ear.
“San Francisco?” she asked.
He shook his head. “You’re gonna have to wait.”
“I hate that. Tell me now.”
“No way.”
She laughed. She settled her hands in his pockets and tried not to become so aware of his body pressing against hers. Or was she pressing against him? Not that it mattered. The reality was they were touching in a lot of places.
He’s just a guy, she reminded herself. She was familiar with all the working parts and Dylan’s couldn’t be that different from everyone else’s. While it was perfectly all right to enjoy his fabulous body in these close quarters, she had better remember this was about transportation, not attraction.
Her wayward hormones didn’t seem to be listening. She found it more and more difficult not to notice how her thighs pressed right up against his rather amazing butt.
Molly bit back a giggle. Oh, well, she would just have to endure the torture. There were many worse things in life. And if she ended up with another crush on him, so be it. She would deal with that just as she’d dealt with everything else recently. This time was for her, and if that meant she had fun being close to Dylan’s hunky body, then she should just shut up and enjoy.
