Chapter Six

 

 

 

When Alice walked into the marriage bureau on that Tuesday morning, Molly almost whooped with delight, only just managing to keep a lid on her excitement. She knew in an instant that she would be the perfect match for one of her clients. Her most difficult, demanding and decidedly dishy client, Rory. Hooray! Sometimes it was like that. An instinct in your tummy that told you that two people would hit it off famously.

Molly had been feeling the pressure, especially with Rory’s looming deadline hanging over her.

Alice was a natural beauty with straight, long blonde hair, a tall, willowy body and a sweet, self-effacing nature. She ran her own craft store and gift shop with only her two black Labradors for company, and admitted she was ready to settle down and start a family.

“She’s the perfect girl next door,” Molly told Pippa, once Alice had left the office. “Rory’s going to love her. I can see another wedding on the horizon, you mark my words.”

“Really?” Pippa arched an eyebrow. “And how would you feel about that?”

Molly bristled, unnerved by Pippa’s knowing gaze.

“Delighted! Why wouldn’t I? To be honest, the sooner I get Rory married off, the better.”

“Yeah, whatever you say,” sighed Pippa, sounding unconvinced.

Molly wasted no time in arranging for Rory to meet up with Alice, but on the night of the date, she felt anything but delighted, only gut-wrenchingly anxious and miserable. At home, watching her favorite film of Rory’s, seeing him playing out intimate love scenes on screen, she wondered if he was doing the same thing right now with Alice. She imagined them laughing, sitting in Marco’s restaurant, exchanging longing looks and flirtatious banter. And she realized right there and then that niggling feeling in the pit of her stomach, which had been there all day, was not anxiety that the pair of them might not hit it off, but a gnawing jealousy that they would!

She’d broken her number-one cardinal rule, falling for one of her clients. She was furious with herself for allowing it to happen. Rory was a film star. He was used to women falling at his feet, but why she’d allowed herself even the tiniest spark of hope as far as he was concerned, she didn’t know.

The next day, after a fitful night’s sleep, she picked up the phone to Alice.

“So, how did it go?” she asked, sounding much brighter than she felt.

“Oh, it was lovely, simply lovely.” Molly’s stomach clenched, hearing the adoration in Alice’s voice. “Something to tell my grandchildren one day, that’s for sure. I once dated a movie star, even if it was for one night only.”

“Well, who knows, perhaps last night was just the first of many such dates.”

“That’s a nice idea, Molly, but I won’t be seeing Rory again.”

“Oh? Why not? I thought you liked him.”

“I do. And I’d probably marry him on the spot if he asked me, but that’s never going to happen.” She gave a resigned little laugh. “I was really into Rory, but he wasn’t into me, I’m afraid. Don’t get me wrong, he was perfectly charming, but I could tell his mind was elsewhere. And I’ve had that experience before with ex-boyfriends. Being with someone when they’re hung up on someone else isn’t great and I certainly don’t want to go there again, especially not with a film star, however gorgeous.”

Molly could sympathize with Alice on that front.

“Well, I haven’t spoken to Rory yet. We don’t know what his feedback will be.”

“Trust me. I know. But if you have some other dates for me to go on, preferably not with multitalented movie stars, then I’d be interested.”

Molly sighed, thankful for Alice’s honesty, but her overwhelming feeling was one of relief. Relief that two of her most eligible clients hadn’t hit it off after all! When you started hoping your clients wouldn’t like each other, then something had to be wrong.

She loved her job, or at least she had until Rory came along. When everything in her world had become muddied and confused and now she wasn’t sure she’d even be able to find Prince Charming a Cinderella.

It was no good, her personal feelings were encroaching on her ability to do a good job. There was no way she’d be able to find Rory a bride when all the time she was secretly harboring ridiculous fantasies that she could have him for herself.

 

“Thanks for coming in to see me, Rory. Have a seat, please.”

He was perched on the edge of her desk, far too close for comfort, the air between them tight with tension and heat.

“Fair enough,” he said, moving. “What’s all this about this then?”

She focused on the picture of a pot of peonies just to the right of his head. She didn’t want to look into those deep blue eyes, knowing that she’d be lost there, rendering her useless to do anything but nod her head and agree with everything he said.

“Well, I’ve been reviewing your file, looking at the dates you’ve been on and I’ve come to the reluctant decision that I can’t help you any further in your search for a bride.” Her gaze dared to flitter over his features to catch his reaction, but his face remained impassive.

When he didn’t say anything, she went on.

“I’m sorry, Rory, and I’ve never had to do this before, but you must realize your situation, who you are, brings added complications when trying to find you a life partner. I just think this probably isn’t the right way for you. If I can’t do my best by you, then you might be better off considering a different agency. I could give you some recommendations.”

“Is this about Alice?” he asked tightly.

“No, not at all. Although I had high hopes that you and her would hit it off. You seemed like a perfect match to me.”

He gave a dismissive shrug.

“It was a pleasant enough evening, but she wasn’t for me. There was no spark there for either us.”

He clearly wasn’t speaking for Alice and any date that a man described as pleasant you just knew hadn’t even got off the starting blocks. Poor Alice, she thought, with a pang of sympathy.

“That’s the thing, Rory, you’ve exhausted my supply of gorgeous, clever women. I simply don’t have any more to put forward at the moment.”

“Well, you said yourself that it took a couple of years to find a partner for one of your clients. Maybe it’ll be the same in my case.”

“Yes, but that client wasn’t working to the same strict time limits as you. He didn’t have a film premiere he needed a date for. He was prepared to wait until the right woman came along.”

“And I’m prepared to wait too.” He wandered around to Molly’s side of the room, reclaiming his position on her desk, stretching out his long legs and crossing them over at the ankle. “To be honest with you, I’m going to be incredibly busy with rehearsals these next few weeks so I wouldn’t have time for dating anyway. And as far as the premiere is concerned, we’re already fixed, aren’t we, so I don’t need to worry about that.”

Those eyes were working their magic again as they traveled the length of Molly’s body, before landing on her gaze, challenging her to say anything to the contrary.

“Oh, Rory, I hope you don’t mean that ridiculous bet we made?”

“There was nothing ridiculous about it. You said you’d come with me if I hadn’t found someone else in the meantime, so…” He held up his palms to the sky, a smile twisting on his lips.

“Yes, but…” Yes, but what? She’d only said that in the heat of the moment. She hadn’t expected him to dismiss all those women she’d fixed him up with. She’d never thought for one moment that she’d actually have to go with him.

Her sharp intake of breath hung heavily in the air. A mix of embarrassment and nervous anticipation filtered through her bones. She laughed it away. “I’m sure one of your actress or model-type friends would like to go with you.”

“I’m sure they would. But I want you to come with me instead, Molly.”

His voice had taken on a quiet determination that sent a shiver down her body.

“It’s hardly appropriate for me to date my clients. That would give out the wrong message entirely.”

“You are your company, Molly. You make the rules. You can do what you like. Besides, I’m single. You’re single. Where’s the problem?”

She could think of all sorts of problems.

Mad thoughts whirled around her mind. A film premiere. How ridiculous was that? The wild excitement tormenting her mind lasted precisely three seconds before it was replaced by a sinking terror. The red carpet, flashing cameras, beautiful, thin people wafting about the place in gorgeous frocks. It sounded like her idea of hell. Only she’d have Rory on her arm and as wrong as it was, she could think of nothing more exhilarating.

“No problem,” she said nonchalantly. “I’d love to come.”

 

* * * *

 

“I think he loves you, I think he loves you!” Pippa twirled around the office floor, singing the schoolgirl chant, her excitement evident in her flailing limbs.

“Stop it!” scolded Molly, who was regretting ever telling Pippa, although not as much as she regretted having got herself into this mess in the first place. She’d wanted to back out even before Rory had waltzed out of the door, but somehow he had a knack of maneuvering her into doing exactly what he wanted her to do. So much for her telling him he was an ex-client. Now he was still a client and she’d agreed to go on a high-profile date with him too.

He intrigued her, he infuriated her, and also managed to creep beneath her skin, unleashing all those emotions Rory had spoken about earlier, that rush, that tingling, that heightened anticipation every time you were in the presence of that special person. Whether she liked it or not, Molly’s celebrity crush at a distance had developed into a full-on real-time infatuation. And she hated herself for it.

“Oh, come on,” said Pippa, interrupting her musing, “why else would he have invited you when he could have had the pick of any girl in London?”

They were Molly’s thoughts exactly, but she wasn’t letting that on to Pippa.

“I’m just helping him out of a hole, that’s all, and…”

“Not a very dark hole by the sounds of things. More like a valley of sweet delights. Mmm mmm.”

“Oh, do shut up, Pippa! He is our client and you know what they say, the client always comes first.”

“Yeah right,” said Pippa. “What do you reckon, Aaron? Do you think the delectable Mr. Campbell has his eyes set on the main prize, our very own delectable Miss Matthews?”

“I have no idea. But I do think you should be careful, Molly.” Aaron, who’d popped in for a coffee, was skulking in the corner chair, seemingly oblivious to all the excitement around him. “I don’t trust that Rory Campbell and I would hate for you to end up getting hurt.”

 

* * * *

 

“How do I look?” It was the day of the premiere and although Molly had been sitting at her desk pretending to work, all she’d managed to do was rearrange her paperclips into one hundred and one different intricate sculptures. When she could contain her excitement no longer, she’d jumped up and ditched her office uniform of black trousers and sensible jumper and replaced them with her favorite aquamarine dress and jacket—the one with the scalloped edges. She’d scrubbed her face clean of makeup, pinned her hair on top of her head and then decided the au naturel look would work better so simply scrunched her hair through her fingers to let the auburn curls hang naturally. Then she reapplied her makeup.

“You look lovely, just lovely. Doesn’t she, Aaron?”

“Yeah, great,” he said half-heartedly, barely looking up.

“Hmm, thanks for the vote of confidence,” Molly sighed.

“No, really, you look great,” he said, doing nothing to make her feel any better.

The office only had the tiniest of mirrors, which was housed on the back of a cupboard door, and if she contorted her body first one way and then another, she could just about manage to get a full-length view of her image.

“I look as though I’m going to a wedding.”

Pippa laughed.

“That’s because you’re wearing one of your only two wedding outfits. But that dress is a go-anywhere kind of dress.”

That’s the trouble, thought Molly. It had been everywhere and back again several times over.

“Oh, I don’t know. What if they’re all in full-length black strapless gowns, showing off perfectly toned shoulders? Everyone will think I’m someone’s mother.”

“Well, there’s no time to worry about that now.” Pippa peered out of the window into the busy street below. “Your carriage awaits!”

“Oh God,” Molly squealed, feeling uncharacteristically ill-prepared for what lay ahead.

Her heart leaped as she heard Rory fling open the door downstairs and then take the stairs two at a time. She took a deep breath, anticipating his arrival, and then he was there, standing in the doorway to her office, dressed casually in jeans and a black fitted T-shirt, the ridges in his abs clearly defined beneath the clinging cotton fabric.

Her gaze wandered along the length of his bronzed, sculpted arms before locking on to his eyes, her breath catching at the back of her throat.

“Hi,” she managed, all other words—along with her sense—escaping her.

 

On days like today, Rory wondered how he’d ever gotten to this point in his life. He loved acting, there was never any dispute about that, but all the crap that went alongside it, he loathed.

The publicity, the photos, the constant interest in his everyday life with his every movement scrutinized for public consumption made him feel as if he were living in a TV reality show, but however much he hated the attention, he knew it came with the territory.

The parties and the first nights were something to be endured rather than enjoyed. He’d always made a pretty good job of putting on a show at those events, acting as if he were having the best time ever—such a great job that his grinning face usually ended up on the front of the tabloids the next day.

Drinking too much and partying way too hard were his ways of getting through. Or at least it had been until now. But tonight he’d have Molly at his side and just the thought gave him a warm feeling of reassurance. For the first time in a long while, he was actually looking forward to his night on the town.

Even the firing squad welcoming committee of her assistant Pippa and that Aaron guy—the one who always seemed to be hanging around whenever he visited—couldn’t dampen his anticipation.

They didn’t matter to him because his sole attention was fixed on Molly. His breath caught at the back of his throat and his heart thumped so hard, resounding through his ears, he thought it might explode. An enormous grin spread across his face as he took in the full extent of her beauty before he managed to compose himself and rearrange his features into something approaching normal.

“Hey, how are you doing?” he said, managing to sound like a second-rate character from one of his early films. “Sorry, I got held up. We’re going to have to drop in at my place so that I can get changed.”

She looked adorable in a pretty pale green dress with a matching jacket, her warm auburn hair cascading in soft curls around her face. Her porcelain skin dusted with a smattering of freckles only added to her tangible vulnerability. All he wanted to do was reach out and touch her, to feel the softness of her skin beneath his fingers, to run his hand across her face and down her neck, to hold her body within his arms. To hell with the premiere, he would have quite happily taken her straight home to bed.

Heat fired through his body, but that wasn’t the only thing troubling his mind. An overwhelming surge of protectiveness and responsibility toward Molly stirred deep within, startling him in its intensity. It took him right out of this small, top-floor office and back to his childhood home when he’d stood in the kitchen, facing his father, hearing the news that his mother had died. Responsibility for his father’s happiness may have been foisted upon him back then, but why he should feel that way now about Molly, he had no idea. She didn’t need his protection. Underneath that fragile exterior, she was as tough as the next man. It was a mistake he’d made with Emma, thinking she needed looking after, and one he wasn’t about to repeat with Molly.

“I hope this is okay,” she said, bringing him back to the moment. “I wasn’t sure what to wear and I didn’t really have anything long.” She looked apologetic, the telltale sign of pinkness on her cheeks that Rory had come to recognize as an endearing feature whenever she felt even remotely uncomfortable. “Rory?” she prompted him.

“Oh yep, it’s fine, absolutely perfect. You look lovely.” He cast a glance over at Pippa and Aaron, acknowledging their presence with a small nod of his head. “Shall we make a move?” he said to Molly.

 

* * * *

 

“Listen, just make yourself at home. I’m going to jump in the shower. There’s wine in the fridge or make yourself a cup of tea or coffee. Whatever you want.”

Molly sighed with relief when Rory disappeared off into the bathroom. She’d only been with him for the last half an hour or so, but already she felt so tightly sprung with anxiety she didn’t know how she’d manage to get through the rest of the evening.

What had she been thinking even offering to come in the first place?

For one thing, she was wearing completely the wrong outfit. That much had been evident from Rory’s face. He’d looked at her almost aghast, speechless, that mocking glint clear in his eye, until he’d remember his manners and muttered something about her looking good. She didn’t belong on a red carpet. To be honest she’d feel much more at home hoovering the wretched thing rather than sashaying along it, trying to appear gorgeous and sylphlike. And sylphlike was never going to happen, not even in a month of Sundays.

No, this was going to end in disaster. Maybe if she just slipped out the front door now, it would save them both a whole heap of trouble. Why couldn’t he have taken one of those dates she’d gone to so much trouble to arrange for him? Any one of the girls would have been a much better fit to these circumstances than Molly ever would be, even sweet Alice.

Molly sank on the low leather settee, kicked off her nude patent court shoes and sighed. If she needed any more proof that she and Rory came from such different walks of life then she only had to look around this luxurious riverside apartment. It was vast, with full-length windows running across the entire width of the flat, giving panoramic views of the city. The room was sparsely furnished by design with a cream leather swivel chair to match the vast sofa, a monster of a television that seemed to dominate the room, a small chrome dining table with chairs, and a workstation that housed all sorts of computer paraphernalia. There wasn’t a flower or a photo in sight and if she hoped she might glean some hidden secrets into Rory’s personality from his living surroundings, then she was right out of luck.

And now, just to add to her woes, she had a wet nose resting on her lap, depositing a nice damp patch on her best dress, and a pair of the most soulful brown eyes looking up at her, pleading with her to take her away from all this sterile luxury to a green and rolling field somewhere. Molly knew exactly how she felt.

“Bella!” Rory appeared back through the doorway, hollering at the unrepentant dog, but still managing to look like a film star, which Molly supposed shouldn’t have been so surprising considering that’s what he was. Her heart pitter-pattered out of control. Perhaps spending so much time in his company had helped her forget that fact, but not tonight, not dressed in his DJ, the white ruffle-fronted shirt currently undone, giving unrestricted access to a toned and rippled chest. There could be absolutely no forgetting that this man was a superstar.

She averted her eyes, concentrating instead on the furry mass at her feet.

“Molly, sorry,” he said, fixing his cufflinks absentmindedly, before spoiling all her fun and doing up the buttons to his shirt. “Get away, Bella!” he scolded. “Just push her away. She knows that behavior is unacceptable.”

Molly smiled, picking up the undertones of his self-indulgent manner. She suspected the harsh telling-off was for her benefit only, and in normal circumstances Bella could do exactly as she liked.

“She’s beautiful,” said Molly, finding the action of running her hand through Bella’s soft fur strangely therapeutic and a welcome distraction from the giddy sight of Rory in all his finery. Bella lapped up the attention readily. “It’s not the best place for a dog though, is it? A city center apartment.”

“Oh dear, Bella, Molly doesn’t approve.” He laughed, shooting the dog a rueful look. “There’s a communal garden and someone comes in twice a day when I’m working to feed and water her. But most of the time, if I can, I take her to work with me. She’s very good, loves being on set and, of course, everyone makes a fuss of her. And whenever I’m not working, I tend to go down to the country. I have a little cottage in Bexminster.”

Of course he did. Why hadn’t Molly thought of that?

“This is just my city base. And that’s exactly what it is, a crash pad. I don’t think of it as home. Home is the cottage. That’s where we get a proper chance to relax, go for long walks and generally unwind.”

Molly wondered if he was referring to him and Bella or him and whoever his current ‘girlfriend for the weekend’ was. The thought gave rise to the tiniest pang of jealousy, which she quickly pushed aside.

“Bella’s found a new best friend in you, though.” He smiled wryly, nodding to himself in affirmation, leaving Molly with the distinct impression she’d passed a test she didn’t even know she’d been entered for.

“It sounds lovely, must mean you get the best of both worlds.”

Rory nodded as he did up his collar, expertly tying the folds of his silk bow tie with a flourish, something he’d clearly done many times before, then he examined his reflection in the huge gilt mirror overhanging the fireplace, before turning to Molly

“What do you reckon?” He held his hands out wide, inviting her inspection. “Will I do?”

“Definitely,” said Molly, sighing inwardly with barely contained adoration. He would more than do. He was the most eligible bachelor in the country. You would think finding him a wife would be the easiest job in the world. “You really look the part.”

 

* * * *

 

“This way, Rory!”

“Over here, please, Rory!” The demands came from every direction with the cameras flashing insistently. Molly didn’t know where to look first. She just plastered a knowing smile on her face in the hope that she might, at least, appear confident.

“You okay?” Rory whispered in her ear as he slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her into his side for yet another batch of photos. His strong arm around her body sent a ripple of delight through her entire being and looking up at his broad frame encased in the immaculately tailored suit made her feel even smaller than her compact five feet and important half inch. She may only have been tiny, but the sense of protectiveness she gained from his touch was both empowering and reassuring.

She sensed a sea of eyes focused on her, or more accurately, Rory, and she knew for that brief moment she was the envy of a whole crowd of adoring women. Something she had never experienced before nor was likely to again.

“Yes, fine,” she said, trying to regain some control over her shaking limbs. It wasn’t the cold, she could cope with that, but the sense of being totally overwhelmed by the occasion. She still couldn’t quite believe that she was here among all these beautiful people. Her gaze swept the crowds, trying to absorb all the frenzied activity and the familiar faces, people she knew through the pages of glossy magazines.

In her professional life, Molly wasn’t judged on what she looked like or what she was wearing and that’s exactly how she liked it. Her personality had always gotten her through in any given situation. She could talk to anyone and deal with any problem thrown at her, but this was so far outside her comfort zone she couldn’t help the nerves fizzing through her body like champagne.

“Rory! Who’s your new girlfriend?”

Someone called from the crowd and a ripple of laughter spread around the onlookers. Rory gave a wry smile and an imperceptible shake of his head. Molly dropped her gaze to the floor, her skin prickling with embarrassment, followed by a tiny bit of pride to think she’d been mistaken for his girlfriend.

Inside the theater, away from the glare of the cameras, Rory pulled her closer to his side.

“You did great out there. I hate these things, I don’t know if I mentioned that?” He laughed, showing no sign that he wasn’t enjoying himself. “So it’s good to have a bit of moral support.” He squeezed her hand, his dark eyes caressing her.

A warm swirl of desire filled her stomach and she suppressed an urge to stand on tiptoe and kiss him on his lips. Which she knew was totally bizarre and totally inappropriate.

He’s your client, Molly, she scolded herself, not your boyfriend. But the more time she spent in his company, the more times complete strangers asked the question, the more she couldn’t stop herself from fantasizing about the possibility.

“What I can’t understand is why we went to such great lengths the other night to escape a lone photographer and yet tonight you’re courting publicity in front of all these cameras.”

“Yeah.” He shrugged, as though the fact amused him. “I thought about that. But I’ve decided I’m not going to live my life dictated to by the tabloids. Besides, we’ve got nothing to hide, have we?” His gaze challenged her and she wondered what had brought about the sudden change of heart. “You’re single. I’m single. Let them do their worst. Besides, it’s all good publicity for the film.”

Molly flinched, the air rushing out of her as if she’d been punched in the chest. That would explain it. Rory was in need of some damage limitation. With Molly at his side, there’d be no chance of him appearing in any incriminating photos.

What had she expected? Wasn’t she the one to keep insisting their relationship was purely professional? So why was she now nursing a ridiculous swell of disappointment?