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SHE JUST STARED at him for the longest time, and he braced himself for anything from tears to hilarity. Finally she sat up, dropped her hands into her lap, and smiled wanly. “When I tell you, you might still see things Phil’s way. It’s not exactly a black-and-white issue.”
“Not much in life is. What happened? You were at the church,” he prompted. “In your Cinderella gown.”
She took a deep breath. “I was waiting in the room set aside for the bride. Nervous, you know. Happy but nervous. Like all brides, I guess. My sister Toni was with me. She was my matron of honor. It was time for the wedding to start, and Phil knocked on the door. I didn’t want him to, you know, see the dress beforehand, but he said it was important and he came in with his brother Ron and this friend of his, Jim.”
“What did he want?”
“A last-minute detail, he said, something that had to be taken care of before we could get married. He handed me this document to sign. It was a contract, all legal. He didn’t use the words ‘prenuptial agreement,’ he called it an ‘understanding.’”
“Wait a minute.” Quinn sat up straight. “He presents you with a prenup right when you’re about to walk down the aisle?”
She nodded. “He said it was his lawyer’s idea, that if it was up to him, he wouldn’t bother, but his lawyer was real insistent. Ron and Jim were there to witness our signatures. I asked Phil why he hadn’t shown this to me before. He said there were these unavoidable delays and his lawyer had just given him the paperwork that morning right there at the church. I didn’t know what to make of this story, so I turned to his brother.”
“The guy who taught you to bluff in poker.”
“Right. Ron was my friend. A decent guy. Anyway, I know what his poker face looks like and I saw it then. I saw him making this heroic effort to support his brother. But as I stared at him, really made him look me in the eye, he gave it up and kind of looked away, ashamed. That’s when—”
Her voice broke, and a jolt of alarm shot through Quinn. He’d never seen her anything but unflappable.
She said hoarsely, “That’s when I knew Phil was lying. Shoving that contract in my face at the very last minute was a calculated tactic. He thought I’d cave in and sign it. I mean, the church was packed, I could hear the guests in the sanctuary, the organ music. We had this whole huge reception planned and paid for, honeymoon reservations, the works.” Molly’s lower lip trembled, though her words were spoken calmly.
Gently Quinn asked, “What did you do?”
“I told Phil I couldn’t possibly sign a contract like that without having a lawyer look at it. And no, I didn’t happen to have one there at the church like he did. He said there was no time, it had to be signed before we could get married.”
“What were the terms of the contract?” As if he couldn’t guess.
“It was totally in his favor—big surprise. If we divorced, even if it was after something like forty years, I’d walk away only with whatever I brought into the marriage. Which is, like, my toothbrush, right? I wouldn’t have been entitled to any assets accumulated during the marriage since he was going to be the breadwinner.”
“You weren’t going to work, then?”
“Not outside the home. Phil and I wanted to start a family right away, and we both agreed I should stay home and raise the kids, manage the house and all that—which, let me tell you, is just as important a contribution to the family unit as his income. But if we divorced, under his contract my years of hard work would count for nothing.”
“No lawyer would let you sign a one-sided contract like that, Molly.”
“Phil got kind of nasty when I balked. I guess he thought I’d knuckle under right away. I mean, I know I’m easygoing, but let’s get real!”
Quinn chewed back a grin. He’d wondered how Molly would react in a crisis. It appeared he’d just found out.
She said, “That’s when he dropped all the pretense and said sign it now or the wedding’s off.”
“And you walked.” Admiration for Molly swelled within him like a balloon.
“I asked Toni for the keys to her car, asked her to stay and explain the whole thing to Mom and Dad. Then I just turned around and walked out the back way, head held high and all that.” She added proudly, “He never saw me shed a tear.”
Which didn’t mean there hadn’t been plenty of them, Quinn guessed, watching her blink back the glaze of moisture in her eyes. He was beginning to realize Phil’s treachery affected her more deeply than she wanted to let on, even to herself. At the same time Quinn marveled at the inner strength and self-respect that had allowed her to stand up to the son of a bitch.
Just chock-full of surprises, his Mellow Molly.
“Why did you say that,” he asked, “about how I might still see things Phil’s way once I heard your story? I’m not sure how to take that.”
“I only meant, you know, since the two of you have so much in common.” She brought the candy locomotive to her mouth and sucked off the frosting that clung to it.
“Wait a minute.” Quinn made a time-out T with his hands. “We have so much in common? Me and that... that...”
“No offense,” she said.
“No offense! Would you care to elaborate?”
Molly obligingly ticked off the similarities on her fingers. “You’re both in advertising. Both go-getters. Successful. Ambitious. Material interests are everything.” She started on her other hand. “Nothing stands in the way of your goals. Personal relationships are an extension of your professional life. Dark hair. German car. Swell shoulders.” She wiggled her ten fingers. “My calculator’s run out of batteries. Oh yeah, you wear the same vacation uniform. Polo shirts and khakis. Very dress-down Friday.”
“Well, that’s—that’s just great!” Quinn sputtered.
“Do you disagree with any of that?” She reached across the table to paw through the debris on his plate. “Where’s the caboose? Did you eat it?”
“Can you stick to one subject at a time? No, I don’t disagree with your comparison as far as it goes, but there’s a lot more to me than material interests and... and...” Swell shoulders. “My Mercedes. I’d never do to any woman what Phil did to you.”
“Oh, I know that, Quinn. Gosh. I don’t think you guys are clones or anything.”
“Well, all right.”
“You’d give your bride plenty of time to look over the prenup.”
He would? Was he the kind of guy to insist on a prenuptial agreement if he married a woman of significantly lesser means? Molly seemed to think so. The hell of it was, she was probably right. Even so, Quinn would never try to cheat his intended out of her fair share of the marital assets.
Phil had freely invited Quinn to spend an entire month under the same roof with his wronged ex-fiancée. Hadn’t he been concerned that they’d talk about him, that Quinn would learn what Phil had done to her?
Probably not. Phil only knew him from the agency, after all, where Quinn’s demeanor had been all business. No doubt Phil assumed that the hard-boiled corporate persona was an accurate reflection of the private man—which, in the case of Phil himself, was obviously true. Then, too, having regaled Quinn with horror tales of his unprincipled ex, Phil must have counted on him giving Molly a wide berth.
Which he had indeed made every attempt to do. Quinn wasn’t proud of that.
He asked, “Phil’s got swell shoulders?”
“Yours are sweller.”
“Thank you.”
“His BMW’s bigger, though. More horsepower. More leather.”
“Well, Phil and I might be two peas in a damn pod,” Quinn said, “but just for the record, I’m appalled by the stunt he tried to pull on you. I can’t believe you aren’t bitter. I mean out-for-blood, hell-hath-no-fury bitter. Do you have any idea what Phil’s been saying about you, the vicious office gossip?”
“I can imagine. It’s not important. No one with half a brain and even the tiniest scrap of sensitivity would take Phil’s version of events at face value.”
Quinn tried not to squirm. Wasn’t that precisely what he’d done? And he hadn’t even shown Molly the courtesy of listening to her explanation back when she’d first tried to give it.
His thoughts must have been evident. She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “I didn’t mean you, Quinn. You didn’t know me then.”
He shook his head in wonder. “You’re too good, you know that? Too understanding, too... sweet. If it had been me, if someone had done to me what Phil did to you, I’d take out a full-page ad in the New York Times and share it with the world. No, I’ve got it. An open letter in Advertising Today.”
She laughed. “Remind me never to cross you.”
“How can you not hold a grudge?”
She shrugged. “Phil did what he had to do. What his gut—his self-preservation instincts, I guess—told him to do. It’s how he got where he is today, owner of a multimillion-dollar ad agency.”
“That’s business. That’s not the way you’re supposed to treat people you care about.”
She smiled knowingly. “I thought it was all related. Isn’t that what you said?”
Quinn slumped in his chair. “That’s not what I meant.”
“He runs his private life the way he runs his business. See, that’s something I didn’t realize before the wedding.”
“There you go again, sounding so damn sanguine about the whole thing.”
She shrugged. “Phil did what he had to do and I did what I had to do. No hard feelings.”
“Bull.” He made her meet his eyes. “You’re hurt, Molly. You gonna try to deny it?”
“No,” she said quietly. “But I’ll get over it. I’ve mostly put it behind me. I mean, what’s the use of letting myself wallow in bitterness and hatred? That just eats you up from the inside. Then you’re punishing yourself, not the person who hurt you.”
“Please don’t tell me you’ve forgiven him.”
Her beatific smile said it all.
“Oh, Molly,” he groaned.
“Now, don’t get yourself all worked up. Don’t start doing my hating for me.”
Somebody had to do it! He debated with himself for a whole two seconds before blurting, “You may not hold a grudge, but Phil sure does.”
She scraped her cake plate clean with her fork. “I know. He’s saying terrible things about me.”
“He’s doing more than that, and you’re letting him. Damn it, Molly!”
Her eyes widened at his harsh tone. “What did I do?”
“You can’t really believe nine-fifty a week is a bargain for this place.”
She stared unblinking and he saw his words register, saw the inevitable and unwelcome conclusion latch on with sharp little claws. Watching her expressive face, Quinn had to give Phil’s brother credit for trying, but no one was ever going to teach this woman to bluff.
Quinn’s motives had been pure. If she was determined to play Saint Molly, the least he could do was arm her with all the facts. That’s what he’d told himself, but what he saw on her face made him wish he’d kept his mouth shut.
She made a valiant effort to smile. “Well. I guess I bungled that one, huh? Think he’s having a good laugh right about now?”
“Molly...” Quinn said miserably. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t be silly. I’m glad you did.” She sat up straighter, her dignified speech and posture at odds with the twin spots of color in her tanned cheeks, and a hard glitter in her eyes he’d never seen before. “Do you mind if I ask what you’re paying?”
You started this, he chided himself. Why stop now when she has a scrap of self-esteem left? “I’m... I’m not paying anything, Molly. He, uh, offered me the place free.”
One delicate eyebrow lifted slightly as if this were of passing interest. He almost expected to hear, “How nice for you.”
He made himself continue. “I think he’s charging you a couple of hundred a week more than he usually gets. There’s plenty of competition from places in a lot better shape.”
“Thank you for telling me this, Quinn.”
Molly stood and quickly gathered the dishes, then carried them into the kitchen. He heard plates and flatware clatter into the sink, heard the faucet open full blast.
Quinn cursed under his breath. He’d offer to pay her rent himself if he thought she’d accept it. But the money itself wasn’t the issue, he knew.
He sat listening to the amplified scritch scritch scritch of the phonograph needle gnawing on vinyl until it finally dawned on him that the machine didn’t know the music had ended. He went into the living room, switched it off, and lifted the record from the turntable.
In the sudden quiet a soft sound came to his ears, barely audible. Muffled weeping. He tossed the record aside and hurried into the kitchen.
Molly stood at the sink squirting an endless stream of liquid soap into the rising water. Quinn didn’t think she was aware of the spuming foam threatening to overflow onto the floor. Her chin wobbled and tears welled in her eyes. He turned off the water and took the detergent bottle from her.
“He had to have the last laugh.” She pounded the worn countertop with her fist. “His first try at cheating me didn’t work, so he had to have another stab at it. And I just let him because I’m so ditsy!” The tears spilled down her cheeks.
“Molly, you’re not—”
“I’m a doormat! Even after what he tried to do, I trusted him. I mean, I walked right into it.” She gestured wildly and shook off the comforting hand Quinn laid on her back.
He said, “If you were a doormat, you would have walked down the aisle with Phil because you’d have been too timid or embarrassed to call it off at the last minute. If you trusted him about the rent, it’s because you see the good in people. And it’s that goodness you concentrate on, not the person’s faults. You bring out the best in people, Molly.”
She leaned back against the refrigerator, hugging herself. “Like I brought out the best in Phil?”
“You can’t bring out what’s not there to begin with. You’re blaming yourself for this when you should be blaming him. You’re doing what you just talked about—punishing yourself instead of the person who hurt you.”
“He—He used to be so sweet, Quinn. When we were together. Devoted. I mean, I know now it was an act.”
Quinn edged closer and tipped her face up so she’d be forced to see his sincerity. She tried to turn away, but he wouldn’t let her. “You saw the good in me,” he said. “You ignored my many loathsome faults and focused on my pitifully few virtues, and look at me now.” He smiled down into her sullen, watery eyes. “When that sun sets, I’m the first guy on the beach and the last one to leave. King of the Cape, they call me.”
She pushed ineffectually at his chest. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”
“Well, there you go. Could you see me doing that two weeks ago?” He grabbed a paper napkin from the counter and blotted her tears. She took it from him, dabbed at her nose, and lobbed it into the corner garbage can.
Her fragrance heightened his awareness of how close they stood—not a store-bought perfume but her own subtle, alluring scent. He ignored the cautionary voice inside his head and moved closer still, leaning both forearms on the refrigerator door to corral her.
Molly glanced up into his eyes, and he saw the answering awareness she couldn’t hide, felt it reach deep inside and tug at the most primitive part of him. She averted her face. Her chest rose and fell in a quickened rhythm, and he leaned into her until her soft breasts nudged him with each breath.
Quinn lowered his mouth to her throat, seeking her pulse, the hot rush of life there. Her breath caught and her hands came up, fluttering, uncertain. To hold him or to push him away? Did she know?
His lips nuzzled her. The breathless little sounds she made inflamed him. He felt her fighting it, felt her resisting this thing that had been brewing between them for nearly two weeks, and this excited him, challenged the primal male animal she’d awakened.
“Molly...” he breathed against her throat. She shuddered. His fingers were threaded into her hair, holding her, and he didn’t know how they’d gotten there. He was acting on instinct and it felt damn good.
His other hand caressed her waist, her hip, slowly, cajolingly. It glided up her rib cage. He heard and felt her soft, panting breaths, felt her rising excitement and perhaps a touch of panic. The heavy warmth of her breast nestled in the crook of his hand. His thumb lightly stroked the underswell. Her fingernails bit into his shoulders as she struggled to fend off not him, he sensed, but her own mounting desire.
He sought the truth in her expressive face. Her eyes had that drowsy, needy look. Her mouth was slightly parted, her skin flushed.
Quinn pounced in unthinking reflex, seizing her mouth in a hard kiss, crushing her against the refrigerator. This kiss was thorough, unashamedly possessive. It demanded a response. And still Molly held back. He intensified the siege, angling his head, shifting his body to fit her pliant curves.
He nibbled at her closed lips, licked the seam. “Molly,” he whispered, “stop fighting it, you won’t win.”
He captured her buttocks and pulled her closer still. Her mouth opened on a gasp and he took advantage, plying her with short, coaxing strokes of his tongue, more a stealthy infiltration than an invasion.
Quinn knew his patience had been rewarded when he heard her soft moan. She melted a little, opened to him, surrendering at last. Triumph surged hard and hot within him. His hands covered her breasts. Their stiff peaks teased his palms and he brushed them lightly, teasing her in return, inhaling the helpless whimpers that rose in her throat.
He relinquished her mouth and gazed at her, the picture of earthy sensuality, panting softly, eyes half-closed, nipples jutting under the flimsy fabric of her dress. In that instant his sanity hinged on getting her out of her clothes and into his bed. Now.
His hand slid under the short hem of her skirt and up her thigh, which was even silkier than he’d imagined. And he’d imagined it a lot in the past twelve days. He nudged her legs apart with his knee and continued the exploration. While Molly eschewed a bra, she did, he now discovered, wear underpants.
Practical cotton by the feel of them, but skimpy. Not much to them.
His fingers slipped between her legs, probing, seeking, and he felt the melting heat of her passion right through the thin cotton. She stared up at him, dazed with that passion. Her trembling legs parted farther as if of their own volition.
She whispered, “Can we make it to your bedroom?”
Quinn pressed himself into the cradle of her hips so there’d be no mistaking his state of readiness. “I’m thinking that countertop looks pretty good.”
She chuckled. “I’d say go for it, but something tells me you don’t keep condoms in here with the Frosted Flakes.”
Red alert! his mind screamed. He forced himself to admit, “Uh, Molly honey, I don’t have any condoms.”
No distractions—that was the whole idea of this trip, wasn’t it? You don’t pack Trojans when you’re planning on no distractions.
He said, “I suppose it’s too much to hope you have some upstairs?”
She shook her head.
And the drugstore was closed at that late hour. If there was one thing Quinn had learned in eight years in the ad business, it was how to salvage a foundering presentation. He said, “You know, I’ve recently discovered that I can be exceptionally imaginative. One might even say inventive.”
A slow smile touched her face. “Is that so?”
“Yes it is, and I’d be privileged to demonstrate this newfound inventiveness, at no risk to you whatsoever.”
Molly wrapped her arms around his neck. “Well. I must admit I’m... intrigued.”
He lifted her by the hips and spun around to set her on the counter, shoving aside the cake plate and upsetting the sugar bowl. He kissed her hungrily and pushed up her dress.
She wriggled to help him as he worked her underpants over her hips. “I’ve been trying not to let myself even think about you this way,” she said.
“Me, too.” He pulled the underpants down her legs and over her sandaled feet, and tossed them onto the toaster. “But let’s face it, Phil doesn’t ever have to find out.”
“Phil? What does this have to do with Phil?”
Quinn tried to part Molly’s legs, but she locked her knees together. She pushed her skirt firmly into her lap and placed a staying hand on his shoulder when he went for another kiss. “Quinn? What’s this about Phil?”
“Only that we have to keep this from him. Come on, Molly, I don’t have to spell it out for you, do I?”
“Maybe you do.”
He backed off a little and studied her expression. Wariness had replaced the glaze of desire in her eyes. He said, “Phil is a force to be reckoned with in my industry. You know that. He’s in a position to either help me or hurt me, big time. If he got wind of this...” Quinn’s gesture took in the two of them, and the promise of imminent debauchery.
Molly’s morose little head shake told him debauchery was no longer imminent. As if to herself, she muttered, “I should’ve listened to my gut. I knew this was a mistake.” She grabbed her underpants and stuck her feet into them. She hopped down from the counter and pulled the pants up, all in one efficient motion.
“Molly, what’s with you?” He followed her into the living room.
“It’s getting a little crowded in here, Quinn. You. Me. The force to be reckoned with.” She opened the door.
“Don’t you think you’re overreacting?”
She turned to him with a pensive expression, clearly giving his question serious thought. “Perhaps,” she said pleasantly, “but I don’t like secrets. I’m not going to hide what I do as if it’s something shameful. I understand your preoccupation with business, with your career, and that’s okay. That’s you.”
“Oh, for pity’s sake.”
“The bottom line is this. Phil stopped being part of my love life four months ago, and that’s the way I want to keep it.” She rose on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, with a wistful little smile. “Happy birthday, Quinn. I hope your wish comes true.” Then she was gone, her footfalls receding up the stairs.
He said, “It didn’t.”