Molly (3 page)

“Over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged.”

He boldly assessed her. In the space of
twenty minutes she had made him forget manners, subtlety and
reason. She was absolutely the most exasperating woman he’d ever
met. The best he could hope for if his mother decided to go on with
this foolishness would be to tame Molly enough to make her suitable
for polite society.

Molly stared back. She’d never met a man she
couldn’t win with wit and charm. And yet, in less than an hour,
Bea’s brother had her acting like some angry alley cat on a hot tin
roof. He was absolutely the most aggravating man she’d ever met,
and nothing at all like his sister. The best she could do if Daddy
decided to go ahead with the marriage would be to give this man his
comeuppance. She’d never seen a man who needed it more
desperately.

o0o

Inside the house, Jedidiah and Glory Ethel
looked out the window at their children.

“Just look at them, out there swinging
together like lifelong friends.” He lifted his glass of lemonade
for a leisurely sip.

Glory Ethel smiled fondly at him. “Sammy is
not as easy to get to know as Bea, but he is equally as wonderful.
I’m so glad he and Molly and getting along.”

“They seem to have taken a shine each other.”
He leaned over and squeezed Glory Ethel’s hand. “I’m happy to see
things going so smoothly, my dear.”

“So am I. Why don’t we go outside and tell
them our good news?”

They left their glasses on a silver tray and
started toward the door. Halfway across the den, they got
sidetracked by Jedidiah’s large collection of CD’s, and before they
knew it, they were listening to Frank Sinatra and holding
hands.

A warm summer breeze stirred the leaves of
the chinaberry tree, setting a low-hanging limb into motion and
loosening an overripe berry. It tumbled toward the swing and landed
with a soft plop on the front of Samuel Adams’ white shirt.

It was the final straw. He quirked his
eyebrow as if indicating it was all Molly’s fault, and impatiently
brushed away the offending berry.

She stifled her laughter.
It served him
right.
She wished she’d thought of pelting him with berries
herself. A good chinaberry war might loosen him up. She almost
reached up and got a handful of berries, but she quickly changed
her mind. After all, he
was
going to be a member of the
family. She’d best try to make peace.

She scooted across the swing and leaned
toward him. Up close, his eyes were startlingly black and exactly
like Bea’s. They almost made her forget what she was doing.

“Here. Let me look at that.” She plucked the
front of his shirt between her thumb and forefinger.

“What are you doing?”

“Chinaberries are notorious for staining
clothes, especially white shirts. I’m checking you out.”

“You already did that—with the water
hose.”

Molly noticed the briefest flash of humor in
his dark eyes. It almost redeemed him. She brushed at the berry
stain again. Underneath his white shirt, Samuel Adams was solid
muscle. She’d thought a man in a three-piece suit would be soft and
out of shape.

“I promise—no water hose this time.”

“I’m not sure I can trust you.”

“Most people do.”

“The first thing you should know about me is
that I am not like most people.”

“Am I supposed to be scared? Or should I
merely bow and kiss your feet?”

“I’d settle for a little bowing and foot
kissing.”

She almost caught him in a smile; almost but
not quite. Still, she wasn’t above sneaky tactics to loosen him
up.

Leaning closer she affected a flirtatious
pout. “I much prefer the other kind.” She circled her hand
intimately across the front of his shirt.

From the looks of that poker face, she’d have
thought he was entirely unaffected. But
this
time she knew
better. Beneath her hand, his heart quickened its pace. She gave
him a smile of pure female satisfaction.

He didn’t trust that smile. “The other kind
of what?”

“Kissing.” Without warning, she leaned down
and kissed his chest, right over his heart, right through his wet
shirt.

He was so surprised he nearly fell out of the
swing. He’d known many women in his lifetime, but he’d never known
anyone quite like Molly. He looked down into that perfectly
sculpted face. Stubbornness. That’s what he saw. Molly Rakestraw
was a stubborn woman from top to bottom—from those pert little
ears, all the way down to her muddy toes. He glanced at her feet
again and did a double take. Good Lord. She was wearing gold
snakeskin sandals. The snake’s head pointed between her toes and
its tail curved halfway up her leg.

Molly was accustomed to being studied by men.
She leaned back in the swing to enjoy it.

“Do you like what you see?”

He quirked one eyebrow upward. “I don’t like
anything about you.”

“Except the kiss. You enjoyed that.”

“Don’t get your hopes up.”

Without ceremony, he plucked her hand off his
chest and put it back into her lap. Giving it a fatherly pat, he
winked at her.

“There’s no need for us to get chummy,” he
continued. She seemed totally undisturbed by his lack of interest.
He wanted to bother her a little, just enough to keep her off guard
and give himself time to regain the upper hand. He played his trump
card. “Besides, I’m not interested in teenagers.”

“Teenagers!” She straightened so abruptly she
almost fell off the swing. “I’ll have you know I’m a
woman—
all
woman.”

He leaned back in the swing and subjected her
to a long, lazy inspection. “I don’t know,” he drawled. “It could
all be padding.”

She was speechless for two seconds, and then
she threw back her head and roared with uninhibited delight.

Now it was his turn to be speechless—but only
for a moment.

“I don’t see a damned thing funny about
that.”

She leaned back in the swing now, posing
against the slats. It was impossible not to look, and hard not to
be impressed. None of what he saw was padding, he’d guarantee it.
But he didn’t say so. He merely continued to study her as if she
were a whipped-cream confection that he considered too sweet for
his taste.

“The funny thing is that I’m twenty-two,
which is a little long in the tooth for a model. As for the
padding—you’ll just have to take my word. I don’t take off my
clothes unless I’m paid an awful lot of money and unless the person
asking says ‘pretty please.’“

She studied him to see how he took that
little white lie. Darn his hide! He was still as cool as snow in
July.

“I don’t recall asking.”

“It’s just as well, Samuel. I wouldn’t have
obliged, anyway.” She leaned across the swing to pat his knee and
to see if she could rattle him. “You don’t mind if I call you
‘Samuel,’ do you, since we’re going to be in the same family and
all?”

“You can call my anything you like. Just know
that I won’t come when you call.”

“That might be a refreshing change.”

“You’re accustomed to men doing your bidding?
Is that what you want me to think?”

She grinned at him again. “How do I know what
old
men think.”

“Old men?”

Her hand was still on his knee, and much to
his surprise it was bothering him. He blamed it on overactive
hormones and having been too long without a woman. His father had
made a fool of himself over just such a woman as Molly, and he
wasn’t about to repeat the mistakes of Taylor Adams.

“Yes. You must be at least forty-two.”

It galled him that she had overestimated his
age by ten years. His mother was always telling him that he worked
too hard, but he didn’t know it showed.

“That’s experience showing. Bank presidents
are never teenagers.”

“You’re president of a bank?”

“Surely Bea told you that. But don’t let it
put any ideas into your pretty little head.”

Molly was torn between anger and laughter. He
thought they were after his money! And that crack about her “pretty
little head” stung. He acted as if a pretty woman didn’t have the
brains of a rabbit. If ever a man deserved his comeuppance, it was
Samuel Adams. And she was just the woman to give it to him.

She made a great show of tucking her legs
under her, deliberately positioning herself so that her knee
pressed into his thigh. Next she propped her arm along the back of
the swing, letting her fingers make casual contact with the back of
his neck. There was no mistaking the goose bumps.
Excellent.

Then she dipped her head in a way that made
the fat shiny braid of golden hair slide over her shoulder and rest
provocatively on her right breast. The smile she gave him was
designed to melt every wax candle in Tupelo right down to its
wick.

“I’ll tell you a little secret, Samuel. A
woman like me never has to worry about money.” She winked.

His eyebrow lifted sardonically and his jaw
pulsed with the jumping of tightened muscles.

“That’s what I suspected.”

“Oh, and you were right.” She leaned so close
to him that the end of her braid brushed his arm. “I never intended
to be one of those starving artists in Paris. You’d be surprised at
the ways a clever girl like me can make money.”

“Nothing you do would surprise me.”

She winked again. “Good. I’m glad you
understand.” She reached out to touch his chest. “And Sammy, when
we become family, perhaps you can help me.”

“Help you?”

“With business matters. You know, contacts
and things like that. A man in your position is bound to know lots
of people.” She rubbed his cheek. “I think family should help each
other, don’t you?”

He was on the verge of apoplexy when he heard
her chuckle. At first it was a small sound, stifled behind her free
hand, and then it was a full-bodied roar of mirth.

He’d been had. She’d used innuendo so
cleverly that he’d been completely taken in. He had to admire her.
It wasn’t often anybody could pull the wool over Samuel Adams’s
eyes.

He felt the a smile tug at the corners of his
mouth.

“Congratulations, Molly. You’ve accomplished
what few men ever do. For a moment there, you got the best of
me.”

She relaxed but she didn’t retreat. She kept
her hand on his neck and her knee pressed against his thigh. There
was no telling when she’d need to use sneaky tactics again.

“I can assure you, Samuel Adams, Daddy and I
are not after your money.”

She wouldn’t be the first to come after the
Adams fortune, but he saw no reason to tell her that.

“I deal with finances every day. I suppose
it’s only natural that that would be my first thought. I owe you an
apology.”

“Accepted. In fact, I’m not even going to
tell Bea. I think you’ve simply been doing what any good son would
do—trying to protect your mother.”

“You’re very generous under the
circumstances.”

“If it will make you feel better, I’ll dump
you out of the swing and throw chinaberries at you.”

For the first time since they’d met, Samuel
laughed. It felt good.

o0o

That’s how Glory Ethel and Jed found them. As
they strolled across the yard, hand in hand, they spotted their
children, laughing and swinging under the chinaberry tree.

“Just listen to that, Glory Ethel. The sweet
music of friendly laughter.”

“And would you look at them, Jed? Don’t they
look sweet sitting on that swing—just like family.”

They approached the chinaberry tree unnoticed
by Molly and Samuel. Grinning, Jed cleared his throat. The pair on
the swing jumped apart.

“My goodness...” Molly’s hand flew to her
throat.

“We didn’t see you.”

Samuel straightened his damp tie and looked
guilty, although his mother doubted if he had a darned thing to be
guilty about. Didn’t she just wish? Lord, it seemed as though she
was doomed to a life without grandchildren. But now she had
Jedidiah. That was some compensation.

“Well!” She beamed at her son. “It looks like
the two of you are getting along just famously.”

Samuel exchanged glances with Molly.

“I wouldn’t say that.” He stood. “Won’t you
sit down, Mother?”

Molly rose from the swing, her jewelry
tinkling as she moved. “Here, Daddy. Take my seat.”

Glory Ethel and Jed declined.

“We just came out to tell you the good news,”
Glory Ethel said.

“Good news?”

Molly and Adam spoke simultaneously. He
sounded suspicious; she sounded joyful.

“Yes. Jedidiah has invited us to dinner
tonight.”

Samuel glanced at Molly again. Her eyes were
sparkling with pure devilment. No doubt she was planning ahead to
the evening, deciding exactly how she would annihilate him. It was
a challenge he couldn’t resist.

“We accept.” He offered his hand to the older
man. “Thank you, Mr. Rakestraw.”

After they shook hands, Samuel took his
mother’s elbow and escorted her to the car and slid behind the
wheel. Back in his own domain, he felt completely in control. He
rested his hands on the steering wheel a moment, absorbing the
familiar feel of his fine machine. And then he drove away from the
little house on Robins Street, being careful not to look back.

“He’s crazy about me.”

His mother’s voice startled him. “Who?”

“Jed. Who were you thinking of. As if I had
to ask.” She gave him a pleased look.

“Now, Mother. Don’t start.”

“Who me? I’m just as innocent as a lamb.”

“You’re as deadly as a lion. Maybe if I told
Jedidiah about your true nature, he might change his mind about the
wedding.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“You know I would never do anything but sing
your praises.”

He concentrated on driving, but in the back
of his mind he was thinking of a woman in a pair of gold snake
sandals and five pounds of turquoise jewelry. Taming her just might
prove to be entertaining.