When Hearts Collide (15 page)

The silence in her absence was comfortable. Neither had spoken about the incident of the previous night. While Molly laid out the picnic supplies, she felt Pearce’s eyes on her. He stared intently, searching, but for what? She felt heat rise up from her toes, inching up until it reached her hairline. She kept her eyes averted. Did this man have any idea of the effect he had on her?

Gracie ran back. “Molly Mommy, can we go swimming?”

A good cold dousing was just what she needed. Maybe that would put a damper on her out-of-control emotions. “I’ll race you to the water.”

Molly discarded the terrycloth cover-up on the lawn chair. Usually she wore casual clothes, loose fitting, prim, only hinting at the sensual shape beneath. Today she wore a bikini that was the same shade of emerald as her eyes. No longer hidden, her body gleamed with the golden tan she developed. She felt Pearce’s eyes examining her. She grabbed Gracie’s hand and ran with her to the cover of the water.

Coming back to the blanket, Molly was conscious of the swell of her breasts showing above the triangular scraps of emerald Lycra. She felt Pearce’s glance running slowly from her face, down her torso, pausing at her hips, then traveling down the length of her tanned legs. The ember of a long subdued flame began to flicker and spark as Pearce stared at the expanse of her bare skin.

Molly grabbed the cover up and swathed it around her but saw the gleam in Pearce’s eyes and it didn’t take much imagination to know what he was thinking. Thankfully, Gracie provided a needed distraction.

“Molly Mommy, can we eat now? I’m starving.”

They devoured the mountain of sandwiches in no time, and then Gracie was off to build another sandcastle. Molly leaned back on the beach chair and listened to the rhythmic slapping of the waves on the white sand.

She tried to relax, but her thoughts were as turbulent as the lake was calm. One part of her wanted to stay with Pearce and Gracie forever; the other part wanted to get away before her heart was lost with no chance of rescue. As if mocking her, seagulls circled and swooped above, their shrieks shattering the silence.

Gracie ran back, and throwing her arms around Molly’s neck, she planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek, then skipped around the blanket. “We’re just like a real family, Daddy, Molly Mommy, and me.”

“You and I are a real family,” Pearce told Gracie.

“And now we have Molly Mommy,” the child said.

“Yes, but Molly is not your real mother.”

“She’s our Molly Mommy.”

“When I’m better, she’ll go back to her own life.”

“No!” Gracie ran to Molly and clenched her chubby arms around her neck. “My Molly Mommy.”

The child clung to Molly for several minutes before calming down and wanting to play with her new friends again. When she was gone, Pearce spoke, “Gracie is getting too attached to you.”

Molly’s body went rigid at his words and harsh tone. What could she say? The child had become dependent on her.

“I can’t let her get hurt.”

Molly turned to him. “Get hurt?”

“It will be hard on her when you leave.”

Molly was stunned. She’d gotten so used to being part of their family that the reality of having to leave hit her as hard as if she’d been punched in the gut. Suddenly she felt frozen, as if she was walking barefoot in a snowstorm. She drew the terrycloth robe closed and turned her head away. Could he know how much he’d hurt her?

“I thought Rachel would be the loving, caring wife and mother I’d never had. I can’t make that mistake again,” Pearce said, his tone razor-edged with bitterness.

Despite how he sounded, Pearce found it hard to keep pretending he had no feelings for her. Every time she came close, he wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms. Every time she smiled at him and he saw the way her lips turned up like an impish elf, he wanted to capture those lips and devour them.

Right now, she was so close, as close as a person could be without touching, it was driving him crazy. He wanted to kiss her. One little kiss. He lied to himself that one would be enough. But he knew she was like a drug to him and that one little kiss would be disastrous. He would want more—more kisses, longer, deeper, and that would still not be enough. He had to cut himself off, like an addict who knew the consequences.

If she stayed, she might want to get married. He wanted her to stay. He cared about her, needed her, but love? That was a big word, and a bigger concept. He wasn’t ready to say that word again. His luck was not in love.

But when he looked at Molly, and the way she cared for Gracie, it put a chink in his armor. It had almost broken through, almost. But he couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t deny the overwhelming urge to be near her, smell her, touch her, every waking moment, but deny himself, he must. It was better for all of them. Better to hurt her now than to let it continue and the hurt to become more intense.

“Molly, you know how much I appreciate what you have done for me, staying here and looking after us.”

She was afraid to look him in eye, afraid he would see the love for them reflected in her own eyes. Instead, she kept her gaze lowered and nodded her response.

“You have to realize, I can’t love someone else. I loved Rachel. I won’t let myself get hurt like that again, or let Gracie get hurt.” He reached out his hand to her. “I care about you, but we can’t be more than friends.”

But what about me? Their attraction might be mutual, but he didn’t want another wife. He’d been crystal-clear in letting her know that. He didn’t want to risk losing his heart again. Yet, more than that, he wouldn’t risk Gracie becoming attached to a mother figure and have her heart broken.

She’d known her time with Pearce was limited, but she hadn’t expected to feel so deeply for him. Her heart was being ripped out of her chest, like a tree uprooted in a hurricane.

It was as if a stake had been driven into her heart. He still had feelings for his dead wife. He couldn’t let those feelings go, even if they were filled with bitterness and pain. The thought of him pining for another woman was more than she could bear. Molly might be attractive, but his wife had been an international model. She could never compete with Rachel.

The pleasure of the day had vanished as suddenly as a summer storm. A conversation that had started so innocuously. An innocent comment that turned and ignited like the fuse on a stick of dynamite, dispersing lightning sparks, and she was the collateral damage.

The drive home was silent. Luckily, Gracie had worn herself out and slept, unaware of the tension hovering over the two adults. As soon as the car pulled into the driveway, Molly jumped out, grabbed Gracie, and rushed through the door before Pearce was out of the car. She just wanted to get Gracie into bed and escape to the sanctity of her own room.

She slammed the car door behind her and hurried up the stairs. Her body shook with rage. How could he be so arrogant, so selfish, so cruel? And she’d thought she might be falling in love with him.

Fortunately she had found out what she meant to him. But was it too late?

Molly lay back on the pillow and tried to sleep. This room, this house, this family, they reminded her of so much that was missing in her life, and had been missing for most of her existence. It represented everything she’d been trying to convince herself she really didn’t need.

But she did need it. She needed it so desperately that it became a physical pain in her chest, a weight pressing down on her, preventing her from moving. Tears ran down her cheeks as she looked around the room that brought back all the loneliness and all the hurts she’d ever experienced.

She was torn between her need to get her life back in order and the need to stay and look after this poor defenseless child. It really wasn’t her problem, but now that she was in the middle of it, how could she walk away? She had to stay until Pearce was back on his feet. Then she would be out of here.

What was wrong with her? She rarely let her emotions get the best of her, and that included self-pity. Molly tried to shed off her forlorn thoughts. So what if she wasn’t living in the lap of luxury, didn’t have a caring, considerate husband, didn’t have a lovable child. There were other things in life, and she was determined to enjoy them. And she was going to start right now.

It was late, but she needed fresh air. Dragging herself out of bed, she went to check on Gracie. The child slept peacefully. Her fever had not returned. Molly let out a sigh of relief, grabbed her clothes, and headed for the bathroom.

The house was quiet and she slipped down the stairs and out the front door. Molly didn’t walk far, but it was enough to make her feel better. Reluctant to go back to her lonely room, Molly sat on the patio. She was so absorbed in enjoying the beauty of the evening that she didn’t hear Pearce until he stood beside her.

“Do you mind if I share the view with you?” Pearce asked.

Molly shrugged. “How can I object, it’s your house.”

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted time to yourself.”

The wry grin he gave her made her heart skip a beat. His closeness set her heart racing. It pounded so hard she felt each beat as it rushed blood to her brain.

Her breathing stopped as his fingertips traced the vein in her neck. His hand moved up to cup her chin, all the while his baby finger gently massaged the tender skin at the base of her throat.

A current sparked between them, and Molly suddenly felt so dizzy she thought she might pass out. She couldn’t believe his effect on her. Just touching her neck aroused her. She tried to turn away, but his hand remained firm on her chin. Merely a game for him, he only wanted the here and now. She wanted forever.

“I’m sorry about yesterday.” Pearce tilted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes smoldered with the hazy darkness of an impending tornado. She felt as if she was being swept into a maelstrom with no idea where it would take her.

He scanned her face, as if trying to memorize every detail. His eyes locked with hers, then his face tipped and his mouth claimed hers. Molly felt the pent up yearning explode with his kiss. She melted into him, yielding to the pressure of his tongue.

A battle waged in Molly’s head. She knew she should pull away, yet the urge to flee was defeated by a baser one–she needed to feel his body against hers, an anchor against all the pain and hurt she’d ever experienced, a buoy to keep her afloat, a beacon to guide her home. Subconsciously, she felt her body leaning toward him, molding into the expanse of his muscular chest.

Then he was pulling away. “I don’t want you getting the wrong idea. I can’t get involved. I loved my wife, I gave her everything, and then she left. Can you handle that?”

Molly’s back stiffened. He wanted her in his bed, but not in his life, and not in Gracie’s life. Could she handle it? Could she have a quick fling and not reveal how much she already loved him, loved Gracie? How could she do it?

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she raced into the house.

Molly hadn’t realized he’d followed her until he reached around and pulled her against him. She felt the strength of his arms, the expanse of his chest, and in that moment, wrapped in the security of his embrace, Molly realized how much she wanted, and needed, to be part of his life.

Leaning against him, she rested her head on his shoulder. Her heart was drumming a wild tune in her head. When Pearce lowered his head and brushed his lips against her neck, the drumming grew louder. He kissed the tender spot behind her ear, then trailed his lips to the jumping pulse in her neck, the slope of her jaw. Her hormones raced, and a soft moan escaped her lips.

As if he’d been waiting for a sign from her, his hands slid down, softly massaging her belly, her thighs, then up to cup her breast. She moaned again when his fingers flicked her erect nipples.

“Molly.” His voice was husky, and she felt the heat of his breath caress her earlobe.

She couldn’t concentrate. A small voice somewhere at the back of head said, “no,” but the rest of her body said, “yes.” Her body won. “Yes,” she answered his unvoiced question.

His hands moved to the hem of her knit shirt and pulled it over her head. Then his mouth was on hers, soft, teasing, demanding. His lips caressed a path down her chin, her neck, her sternum, the mounds of her breasts. His teeth nipped at her bra, stretching the lace until one breast was free. As his hand freed her other breast, Molly’s fingers worked through the silky dark strands of his head.

His hands cupped her naked breasts, his mouth tickling an erect nipple. The need for him to make love to her became a physical ache, the urges obliterating any conscious thought. His mouth slid along the mound of her breast. She moaned and leaned into him. Suddenly, the voice at the back of her head shouted.
He doesn’t love you. This doesn’t mean anything to him. You’ll regret this
.

From somewhere, Molly gained the strength to pull away. “I can’t do this.” She raced up the stairs to her room. Once inside, she leaned against the doorframe, grasping for breath. For the second time that day, her pillow became drenched with her tears.

Molly woke with a start. The room was still dark. She glanced at the digital readout on the alarm clock. 3 a.m. What had wakened her? All was silent, except for the faint rustle of wind through the trees and the trill of raccoons in the woods behind the house. Normal sounds, not sounds that would startle her awake.

Was Gracie having a nightmare? No, it wasn’t a nightmare. There were no screams, no crying. Then she heard it. She recognized it immediately—that harsh seal bark. Now that Molly thought of it, Gracie had coughed a couple of times that day, but that cough had now developed into croup. Molly flew out of the bed and sprinted down the hall.

Gracie lay prone on the mattress, her head stretched back onto the pillow, extending her neck. The nightlight shed a soft glow on her body, but it was not enough to properly assess the child. Molly flipped on the lamp by the bed. Gracie continued to sleep, but with each breath, she labored.

Molly lifted the child’s pajama top and saw the outline of Gracie’s ribs with each rise and fall of her tiny chest. Her trachea sucked in as she tried to pull air through constricted bronchi. Molly’s own heart constricted at the bluish cast to Gracie’s lips. There was a high-pitched squeaking noise when the child inhaled. Molly felt the color leech from her face. Stridor. Gracie was in respiratory distress.

Molly mentally ran through the treatment of croup. She needed to make it easier for air to get into the child’s lungs, something to ease the constriction in her bronchi and allow more oxygen into her small body. Molly didn’t have time to drive the child to a hospital. She needed to act quickly. Gracie needed humidity to decrease the swelling in her airways. Did Pearce have a humidifier? She hadn’t seen one. What else could she use?

Grabbing sheets and comforter, Molly gathered Gracie into her arms and raced to the bathroom. She wondered how long the child had been having trouble breathing. Turning the shower hot water tap on full blast, she let the steam envelop the room.

Gracie roused and started crying. She sounded as if she’d developed laryngitis while she’d been slept. A coughing spell racked her tiny form, the series of barks sounding like a pool of barking seals. Molly sat with Gracie on her knees and let the moist, humid air engulf them both. She waited and watched, and waited some more.

“Molly Mommy?” Gracie’s voice was a hoarse whine. “I’m cold.”

The effort of speaking resulted in another paroxysm of tight barking coughs. Pulling the comforter around Gracie’s shoulders, Molly cuddled the child in her arms. She sighed in relief when the child’s cough settled and she was able to relax against her.

While she let the steam work, Molly kept a vigilant eye on the child’s condition. She watched for cyanosis, drooling, increased indrawing, and fortunately there was none. Was she imagining that the rise and fall of the child’s chest seemed to be easier? Molly twisted her head and examined the slender neck. Gracie’s struggle to get air into her lungs was barely visible. The child’s breathing was finally getting easier. They were both damp from the humidity, but still Molly kept the shower blasting hot water.

Finally Gracie fell asleep in her arms, the cough an occasional short bark, the chest retractions barely visible. Molly turned off the water and carried the sleeping child downstairs. Should she wake Pearce first, or call Doctor Graham?

She decided on the later. Dr. Graham answered the phone on the third ring, and Molly gave him a quick report. He would be there in a few minutes. She crossed the hall and knocked softly on Pearce’s door. Ever since he’d been off the intravenous medications, Molly hadn’t been in his room at night.

Pearce dressed swiftly, not taking time to brush his rumpled hair. He waited with Molly in the kitchen until the doorbell rang. Gracie remained asleep, her arms wrapped around Molly’s neck. Her breathing was easier. Pearce left her in Molly’s arms, but rhythmically stroked the child’s back, his eyes cloudy with concern.

Doctor Graham’s exam was quick. He listened to her lungs, heard her cough, and took her temperature. “She seems to be okay. Quick thinking on your part again. I’m reminding you, Molly, if you ever want a job at the hospital here, I’ll give you a reference.” He removed medication from his leather satchel and handed it to her. “Give her a tablespoon of this now and one in twelve hours.”

Taking the medication, she grinned at him. “I appreciate the reference. Who knows, someday I might take you up on that.”

What would it be like working and living in the same area as Pearce? Once she left here, how hard would it be to forget them? The best thing might be to get as far away as possible, yet the opportunity to stay close might be too much of a temptation.

Gracie had roused when Doctor Graham examined her and wanted her father. She now lay snuggled against his chest. Her blond head bobbing, she drifted into the sleep her body craved.

With a pat on the child’s head and a nod to Pearce, Doctor Graham closed his medical bag. Molly accompanied him to the door. When she returned, she was surprised to see the intentness in Pearce’s eyes.

“He’s a nice man. I think he likes you.”

Molly shrugged. “Yes, he is nice.”
But he doesn’t affect me the way you do. He doesn’t make my heart or my stomach do somersaults. No, he doesn’t make me take leave of my senses and forget all my resolutions.

“Shall I take Gracie up to bed?”

He sighed deeply before releasing his hold and transferring the child to Molly’s waiting arms. “I’m going to follow you and sleep upstairs tonight.”

“But the stairs, can you manage them?”

He grinned at her. “I managed them the other night.”

Molly laughed. “Yes, and scared the life out of me when you fell.”

“I’ll be careful.” He winked at her. “I wouldn’t want to scare you again.”

Molly laid Gracie on the bed, covered her with the cotton sheet, and stroked the damp blond curls. “Sleep well, my little princess.” As she bent to place a kiss on the girl’s cheek, she was startled by a sound at the door.

Pearce leaned against the doorframe. Molly jerked upright. Would he be upset by her endearment for the child, or giving her a kiss? She was relieved to see the tender smile on his lips. After a final glance to ensure Gracie’s breathing was peaceful, Molly rose and crossed to the door.

“Will she be okay now?” Pearce asked.

“I think so. I’m going to bring a pillow and sleep in the room just to be on the safe side.”

As she went to pass him, he caught her shoulder, turned her to toward him, and pulled her into his arms. Her softness molded into him and she laid her head against him. His voice was like plush velvet. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Oh, Pearce,” she sobbed. “I was so worried.”

“She’s breathing fine now.”

She tipped her head up to look at him, ignoring the tears flowing down her cheeks. “It’s different looking after someone in the hospital, when it’s not someone you care so much about. I can’t make myself feel detached from her. I care too much.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” He was teasing her, but his voice sounded like a soothing balm when it murmured against her earlobe.

Molly sniffed. “It will be when I leave.”

“But you’re not leaving now, are you?”

Her body flashed hot, and her pulse roared in her ears. His words were more than a question; they were a statement. Why? Did he want her to stay? For how long?

He tipped her head, then brushed his lips against hers. She felt as if she’d been stroked with butterfly wings. Her heart thumped erratically, and a shudder shook her shoulders, sending tiny electric shocks along her spine. She gasped. How could such a tiny touch cause such havoc to her body?

Pearce held her face in both hands, forcing her to look into his eyes. The cobalt blue depths smoldered with unreleased passion. “Do you want to leave?”

He must have seen the answer in her eyes. A strangled moan came from deep in his throat. He pulled her closer, then his lips were on hers. These were no butterfly’s wings. This time his lips took possession, demanding a response.

Her arms slid around his neck and returned his kiss with all the passion she’d been holding back her entire life. His hair felt like silk against her skin, and the musk of his aftershave made her feel as if she’d drunk a bottle of a potent wine. She closed her eyes and inhaled Pearce’s essence until dizziness overcame her and her knees buckled.

“I don’t want you to leave.” His voice was husky with passion. “I need you. I want you to stay. Let me be there for you.”

She couldn’t believe her ears. All her life, other then her sister and Gladys, she’d never had anyone who’d really been there for her. Did he mean it, or was it just for now? Suddenly, Molly didn’t care any more. She needed him, needed to feel his arms around her. Molly leaned into him.

The heat of his eyes and his body thawed the wall of ice she’d tried to build around her heart. Now it was melting, one block of ice at a time, as a blazing fire swept through her. Under the thin cotton of his shirt, she felt the rapid pounding of his heart. “I don’t want to go.”

“Oh, Molly,” he said, his voice a low growl as he pulled her closer. His eyes were smoldering black embers. His hand slid to frame her face as his fingertips caressed the tender vee of her throat. A shiver of excitement raced from the top of her spine to the end of her toes with each finger’s stroke. His head tilted toward her. She felt the heat of his breath before his lips touched tentatively on hers. Her own lips parted, eager and welcoming.

Finally, gasping for breath, their lips eased a fraction of an inch apart. They clung to each other, hormones raging.

“Come with me.”

Molly didn’t have to be asked twice. How could she refuse? She glanced at the peacefully sleeping child. Her breathing, now even and unlabored, reassured her Gracie was no longer having trouble breathing. Molly followed Pearce along the hall like a child drawn to the Pied Piper’s magic flute.

Her feet pattered, as soft as the tap of cat’s paws on the thick carpet, not even making enough noise to bring her to her senses. Pearce pushed his bedroom door open and she followed him into the darkened room.

The drapes were open, and the soft gleam from the full moon was all that relieved the shadows. She made out the muted charcoal shapes of furniture. She didn’t need the light on to know what the room looked like. It had preoccupied her dreams since the first night she’d spent in this house—dreams filled with Pearce holding her in his arms, caressing her with his kisses, possessing her body with his. His arms reached out for her, and she let her body mold to his.