Lip Lock (19 page)

“But I wasn’t in love with him then.” Molly knew she was beginning to whine, but she couldn’t stop herself. This was important.

“Well, then I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Molly sighed. “Okay. Well, thank you. I appreciate your advice.”

“Any more questions about the turkey?” the woman asked, her voice indicating she was ready to wrap up the conversation.

Molly glanced at the turkey in the sink. “No, I think I got that covered.”

“Alrighty, then. Thanks for calling Just Like Mom’s Turkey Hotline. Happy Thanksgiving!”

“Yeah, you too.” Molly slowly pushed the button to end the call. She surveyed the kitchen and winced.

Every pot and pan was out. Vegetables were in various stages of being prepared. The Thanksgiving dinner checklist she printed off of the computer was spattered with water and only a few completed checkmarks.

Molly blew at the hair falling in her face. Well, she got herself into this mess. She was going to get herself out of it. Be a stronger person because of it.

At least, that was the plan.

The candles on the dining table cast a glow against the dark, rainy afternoon. The scents of cinnamon, cloves, and ginger permeated the house. Soft music and hard raindrops melded in the background. Kyle looked at the other end of the table and felt his heart swell at the sight of Molly.

Her long brown hair fell in waves past her shoulders. The red-gold flecks glimmered when she turned her head. Kyle clenched the linen napkin in his hands as he remembered how soft her hair felt under his fingers.

He greedily watched every move she made. The demure dip of her eyelashes and the hint of dimple in her left cheek. She looked beautiful in his cast-off white sweater. It might conceal her curves from his eyes, and she had to fold the sleeves so she could use her hands, but he liked seeing her wear something of his.

There was also something to be said about seeing her at his table. Now if only he could bring a blush to her skin, or make a primitive claim on her body, his holiday would be complete.

No, he would feel complete if and when she placed the same claim on him. She wanted to see how she would make him a home. Align herself to him. Creating this feast for him made him want more gestures, more gifts.

Okay, so she made the meal for him and their four dinner guests, he admitted as he watched Darrell and his neighbor Diana chuckle over something, but he could pretend it was all for him. Just this once.

“Hey, Kyle,” Glenn called down from the other side of the table. “I need to talk to you about the spec we created earlier this month.”

Kyle showed no expression, but he wanted to scowl at his chief financial officer. This was one moment when he didn’t want to think about Ashton ImageWorks. He didn’t want to return to his computer after dinner, or even talk about image processing.

All he wanted to do was sit back and watch Molly Connors preside over his dinner table. And after she charmed his guests, he wanted to whisk her away to their bedroom with the sole intent to seduce her.

“Now, Glenn,” Molly said with a gracious smile, “I have a rule. No business discussions at the dinner table.”

“It’s bad for digestion,” Diana added.

Glenn’s head snapped back. “Kyle agrees to this?” He looked at Kyle for clarification.

“It’s part of his training,” Bridget said with a smile as she raised her wineglass to her lips.

“What happens if someone breaks the rule?” Glenn asked.

“Then he’s banished to the kid’s table,” Molly said with a sly gleam in her eye.

“There is no kid’s table,” Glenn pointed out.

“We’ll make one,” Diana promised, bestowing a steely-eyed glare on his friend.

Kyle hid a smile. It was almost as if Molly had deciphered his mood. She had protected him, in her own way. The idea gave him a buzz.

He caught Molly’s attention across the flickering candlelight. The last defense crumbled as he held her gaze. He couldn’t stop looking at her. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to hide what he felt or what he wanted.

And he wanted her. In his bed, at his table, in his home. In his life.

Molly shyly dipped her head, and to his amazement, Kyle saw pink stain her pale cheeks. She bit her bottom lip and looked back at him.

Yep, Kyle thought as he leaned back in his chair. Molly always looked good in pink. Now what would he have to do to make her entire body blush…?

Molly squeezed her eyes and slowly opened them as she swallowed back a yawn. What had she been thinking trying to create the perfect Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving dinner? She was exhausted!

Molly rubbed the crystal wineglass dry and placed it gently in the drying rack. She had been up cooking, baking, washing pots and pans, ironing the tablecloth, and then trying to look halfway presentable at the actual meal without falling asleep face first in the mashed potatoes.

For a minute there, she thought she was hallucinating at the dinner table. Kyle looked…well, it didn’t matter what he looked like. She was wrong. She was fantasizing again. She had to stop it.

Next year she would start a new tradition and order pizza. And if she was feeling ambitious, she’d splurge on napkins. Paper, so she didn’t have to iron or be expected to fold them in some sort of origami knot.

Crash!

Molly winced as the sound of tinkling glass echoed in the kitchen. She hesitantly turned to see Glenn crouching, holding shards of a wineglass.

“Oops.” He smiled sheepishly. “Slipped right out of my hand.”

“Did you hurt yourself?” she asked as she carefully took the broken pieces from him.

“I’m okay,” he said with a slight slur.

“Are you sure? Because you might have a cut on your hand and it will hurt like the dickens if you put it in the soap water.”
Translation: give up on “helping” me wash up!

Glenn looked at his hands. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Let’s not risk it.” She had to give him a different job or they wouldn’t have any glassware left. She gave him a damp towel. “Here, you dry and I’ll wash.”

“Sounds good to me,” Glenn said, and took a step to the other side of the sink.

“Don’t move!” She quickly gathered the dustpan and brush that she had kept out when she swept up the last shards.

“Why can’t we use the dishwasher again?”

“Because these have a gold rim. And they’re extremely fragile,” she said pointedly as she swept the sharp pieces scattered at his feet. Obviously he thought all he had to do was load the machine, press a button, and call himself helpful. “Okay, you’re good.”

She walked to the trash can and deposited the broken bits into the bag. Why did this guy insist on helping? He was tipsy and he was all thumbs!

But she saw the mischief brewing in his eyes and decided to let him have his way before he made a scene. Kyle owed her big for this favor.

And if Glenn was going to break the crystal, could he at least do a complete set? One goblet, one champagne flute…? No, of course not.

Kyle was going to have a mismatched set after this week. He better not blame her for it. And if he wanted to replace the missing pieces, he needed to harass Glenn about it. She was no expert on crystal, but what she was washing looked terribly expensive.

She heard the ring tone of a cell phone. Molly looked at Glenn as he retrieved the electronic device from his pocket. She hoped the call would distract him from his drying chore.

“Hey, Sara! Happy Thanksgiving!” Glenn tilted the phone away from his face. “It’s Sara.”

“Really?” Like she would never have figured that one out by herself. Molly placed the broom and pan to the side and walked back to the sink.

“I’m talking to Molly. Molly,” he repeated. “Molly Connors.”

Great. Molly rolled her eyes. Soon everyone was going to know that she was on this island. How she got here. Why she stayed. Yeah, she was never going to get another job in the tech industry after this week.

“No, I’m not lying,” Glenn said with a wide smile. “Why would I make something up like that? Here, I’ll prove it to you.”

Oh, come on.
She didn’t want to talk to her former boss. She had nothing against Sara, but the way she had been dismissed from her job had been nothing less than humiliating.

“Say hello to Sara,” Glenn urged her, handing over the phone.

Molly sighed and took it from him. “Hi, Sara,” she said in her best receptionist voice.

“Molly?” Sara’s voice rose as she stretched her name into several syllables. “It really is you? Why are you there?”

“It’s a long story.”

Glenn grabbed the phone away from Molly and put it against his ear. “She’s engaged to Kyle. But, shush. It’s not official.” Glenn gave Molly a wink.

Okay, new rule, Molly decided as she faced the sink. Glenn was not allowed near the wine and liquor for the remainder of his stay.

“Why are you calling me?” Glenn asked Sara. “I did? I said that? Well, yeah…That does sound like me. Okay…Talk to you later. Say ’bye, Molly.”

“ ’Bye,” she repeated halfheartedly as she put on the yellow rubber gloves. She paused and tilted the glove over the sink, watching the water pour out of the yellow rubber. She was going to kill Glenn. Those were the last rubber gloves the island store stocked.

Glenn pocketed his phone. “Sorry about the interruption.”

She looked at him and then at the glove.

He shrugged. “What?”

Molly put the glove down. “You’re the one who’s going to be sorry. I would like to see you explain to Kyle how all of Ashton Image Works found out he was engaged.”

Glenn dismissed the possibility with the wave of his hand. “Sara isn’t going to tell anyone.”

Since he’d known the executive assistant longer, he was probably right, but Molly didn’t think it was wise to chance it. Deciding it was none of her business, she pressed her lips together and carefully picked up a crystal goblet.

“Why are you worried about Kyle’s reputation?” Glenn asked when she silently handed him the dripping wet glass.

Molly glanced up and saw their reflection in the kitchen window. Glenn’s eyes had narrowed with suspicion. “I’m not.”

“This engagement of yours isn’t going to last,” he said. “You know that, don’t you?”

Duh! Was Glenn warning her off? About an engagement he already knew was fake? Just how much did this guy have to drink? “I appreciate your concern—”

“What you going to do once he dumps you?”

She grabbed another glass and plunged it into the soapy warm water. “He’s not going to dump me.” Because one had to be hooked up first to get dumped.

“Oh, yeah, he is. It’s his method. I’ve seen it before. He’ll leave you with his world intact, and where will you be? Without a job. Without a home.”

“Is there a point to this?” Molly asked as she quickly scrubbed the glass. She didn’t want the reminder. She especially didn’t want to hear the hint of pleasure in Glenn’s voice over the fact.

“Not really,” he said, his voice dropping into a low, husky whisper, “but you’re always welcome at my place.”

Wow. That was unexpected. Maybe Glenn was one of those friendly drunks who wouldn’t remember what he promised the next day. “Why would you…?” Wait a second. He was not making the offer out of the goodness of his heart. “What are you saying?”

Glenn wiggled his eyebrows.

Ew! “Are you suggesting that I have sex with you in exchange for a roof over my head?” What kind of woman did he think she was? Or how desperate, for that matter.

“Yeah.” He leaned closer and she could smell the wine on his breath. “How ’bout it? You and me? Once we get back to the mainland?” He reached for her.

Anger poured through her and she took a step back. “Don’t touch me,” she warned him.

Glenn made another attempt to catch her. “Now—”

She grabbed one of the glasses and held it up high. One more step and he was going to get clobbered. “Let me put it to you straight. I am never going to sleep with you. Ever.”

“Hey,” Glenn straightened his shoulders proudly. “A girl like you—”

Molly’s jaw locked. “A girl like me knows better.”

“You think Kyle is going to make this engagement ‘official’?” He made air quotes and snorted. “You’re living in a dream world.”

“Glenn, I don’t know how to make this any plainer.” She tilted the crystal up and down between her fingers. “I would rather starve and live on the street than sleep with you for my most basic necessities.”

He squinted at her and then at the glass, as if the light catching on the crystal had a hypnotic effect. “So…that’s a…”

Maybe she should just hit him with the crystal and knock some sense in him. “It’s a no.”

Glenn’s upper lip curled. “Well, fine.” He slapped the dish towel on the counter. “You can just forget about me helping you wash the dishes.”

“Gee, that hurts,” Molly muttered to his back as he stomped out of the kitchen. Now if only she could forget that in three days, she was going to be right back where she started. Out of a home, out of Kyle’s life, and out of luck.

Kyle sat in front of the fireplace in his study, his feet propped on the ottoman. He looked over at where his computer rested on his desk and felt no urge to join it. Huh. Maybe he was coming down with something.

He heard the soft tap on the door and looked around. Kyle masked his disappointment when he saw Darrell standing at the entrance. He had no reason to hope it would be Molly.

“You have a minute?” Darrell asked.

“Yeah, sure. Take a seat.” He motioned at the chair next to him. There was something about the hard edge in Darrell’s voice. “What’s up?”

“How important is Glenn to this deal?” Darrell asked as he sat down.

Kyle paused. It was an odd question. Glenn had his shortcomings, but negotiation wasn’t one of them. “He’s the chief financial officer—”

“Yeah, I know.” Darrell leaned forward and perched on the edge of his chair. “But how important is he to
this
deal?”

“You have a problem with Glenn?”