Molly Matthews Meddles in Marriage (13 page)

Despite being feted and adored by millions of people around the world and seemingly having it all—good looks, charm and talent—she’d sensed a deep loneliness within Rory that all the film premieres and parties in the world wouldn’t be able to fill. He couldn’t wait to get away from the event tonight and despite seeming to know everyone there, he hadn’t shared a genuine connection with any of them.

There was no doubt that Rory needed a good woman at his side. But Molly wasn’t the right person to help him find her. Despite his protestations about actresses, Molly suspected someone who was familiar with the film industry might be a better fit for Rory. Someone who knew the demands and pressures, someone who wouldn’t be threatened by the fact that Rory would be working away a lot of the time, constantly surrounded by good-looking women.

Rory handed her a flute of champagne with a smile on his face.

“So that’s my excuse. What’s yours?” He sat down beside her and swung his long legs up on the coffee table. Bella took the opportunity to sneak beneath him and flopped onto the floor with a sigh, looking up at Molly with sorrowful eyes.

“Sorry?”

“Well, that’s why I’m swelling the numbers of the happy band of singletons, but what about you?”

He tilted his head to one side, an inquiring look on his face. His proximity and the waft of lemon-scented aftershave reaching her nostrils made her stomach swirl. That look was the one she’d seen him practice on Carey in the film tonight, and her character hadn’t stood a chance, she’d fallen in love with him in a trice. It would be all too easy, realized Molly, to do the same. How many women had done so in the past, she wondered? All those numerous flings he’d mentioned, how many of those women had walked away unscathed once Rory no longer had use for them? Not many, she doubted.

The intensity of his gaze upon her face now sent a ripple of longing through her body. Oh God. She really needed to be going home soon.

He’d asked about her love life before, in a teasing manner, and she’d always been able to deflect the question with a vague reply, deeming it irrelevant when she was more concerned with finding him a partner, but tonight there’d been a subtle shift in their relationship. It wasn’t a date, obviously, but there were the definite beginnings of a tentative friendship there. And he’d opened up to her for the first time in months. Didn’t she owe him the same in return? As a friend.

“Well, there isn’t much to tell. There isn’t anyone special at the moment but that’s because I’ve been too busy building up the business to have much time for anything else.” It was a convenient excuse she rolled out whenever anyone asked about her personal life, but the truth was her work was her social life. “I was engaged once,” she added, “but it didn’t work out in the end.”

“Oh, sorry about that. Well, you’re definitely in the right business for a singleton. Do you get first pickings of all the eligible men who walk through your door?”

She laughed, shaking her head.

“Everyone asks me that, but I would never stoop to such depths. It wouldn’t be professional. It’s a bit like going out with your best friend’s ex. It’s totally out of bounds.”

“Is it?” A bemused expression settled across his features.

She didn’t know whether he was referring to it being unprofessional or dating the best friend’s ex, perhaps he wouldn’t have any such qualms, but she nodded her response to both.

Hand on heart, she’d never viewed any of her male clients as potential boyfriend material for herself. She’d been able to assess them dispassionately, weighing up their qualities only in relation to pairing them with her female clients. It had never been an issue until Rory, when all her highly held values and strict rules had flown out the window. Was that why she’d been unsuccessful in her quest to find Rory a partner, because she’d allowed her personal feelings to intrude on what should have been strictly a business arrangement? Would it be such a crime to fall for Rory?

But then Rory was unlike any other client she’d had before. He was a movie star, for goodness sake. No wonder her head had been turned. It would take a woman with a heart of steel not to be swayed by his obvious charms.

“So what about that Aaron guy,” he asked, “is he not a client of yours?”

“No, Aaron’s a good friend of mine. I got to know him through Pippa first of all. He’s such a lovely guy. You know, I have offered to fix him up with one of my clients, but I don’t think he’s in the market for a relationship just yet. He’s happy as he is, although he will help out at events if we’re short on numbers.”

She tossed him a sharp look, as a reminder of the night he’d let her down and he raised an eyebrow, smiling wryly.

“What?” Molly asked.

“You really cannot see what’s under your nose, can you?”

She stuck out her chin, looking at Rory through narrowed eyes.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I suspect the reason Aaron’s not in the market for a girlfriend is because he’s hooked up on you. You must know that he’s clearly besotted by you. You only have to see the way he looks at you. And the scarily dark vibes he gives to me every time I walk into your office. Woo, I would hate to meet him down a dark alley of a night.”

Rory was laughing, but a tug of regret pulled at Molly’s heart thinking of Aaron. She knew that he had little time for Rory, considering him an arrogant, self-obsessed playboy, but was there any truth to what Rory was saying? She recalled Aaron’s cautionary words, but wasn’t that just one friend looking out for another?

“Oh, please! Aaron’s just a friend. He doesn’t see me that way at all.”

“Trust me, I’m a man. I know what it means when a man looks at a woman like that and he’s not thinking about friendship, I can assure you.”

Could she really have overlooked the signs? It had been such a long time she wasn’t sure she’d spot that sort of sign if it was dangled in neon lights in front of her eyes.

“You know how builders never have time to get around to their own extensions,” Rory went on. “And decorators never get around to painting their houses. I wonder if it’s the same for marriage bureau owners. They’re so busy sorting out other people’s love lives they completely neglect their own.”

“Now you’re just talking rubbish.” She reprimanded him with a friendly tap on the knee, but the look that hovered between them told her they both knew he could be right.

“Take no notice,” he said, grinning. “I’m only teasing.” He jumped up from the sofa, grabbed the champagne and refilled her glass. Her mood was mellow, yet a stirring of hot anticipation fired her senses. She suspected being with Rory did nothing for her blood pressure. “So what went so wrong with your fiancé?” he asked, handing back her glass.

She sighed inwardly. She hadn’t wanted to go there. Especially not with Rory. Humiliation accompanied the champagne trickling down the back of her throat. Shame prickled at her cheeks. Only the people who knew her back when Paul did his appearing act knew the extent of his betrayal. The long list of guests on the invitation list who needed phoning and telling that the wedding wouldn’t be going ahead after all. All one hundred and fifty of them.

She hadn’t needed to tell anyone else about it when she came to London. It belonged in the past. But the irony wasn’t lost on her, a marriage broker who’d completely failed at arranging her own wedding. It wasn’t the best advertisement for her own business. She took a deep breath.

“He backed out at the last moment. Decided married life wasn’t for him, after all. Or more accurately, married life with me wasn’t for him.”

“Ouch!” Rory winced. “Although I suppose it’s better a broken engagement than a divorce. Maybe you had a lucky escape. How long were you with him for?”

“About five years,” she said wistfully, silently appreciating Rory’s muted response.

“And did you get any explanation from him?”

She wished Paul had spared her the gory details, but no, for the first time ever in their relationship he’d given it to her straight.

“He said he couldn’t marry me because he didn’t love me. Never had done apparently. Only asked me out in the first place to try and get close to my sister, Natalie. We drifted into a relationship and five years down the line he realized it wasn’t what he wanted after all. I suppose I was always only ever going to end up as second best for him.”

“Really? What a loser! You definitely had a lucky escape.”

“Yeah.” Wasn’t that what everyone had said? She’d been suffocated by well-meaning platitudes. But it was true. Better to have found out before the wedding than after. She’d been so sure about Paul, about their future together, and thought he’d felt the same way. How would she ever trust anybody again? How could she ever trust herself to get it right next time?

“And listen,” Rory took hold of her hand, interlocking his fingers with hers, squeezing them tight. “No one has the right to make you feel second best.”

She’d been doing absolutely fine up until that moment, but seeing the sympathy in his eyes, hearing the concern in his voice and feeling the strength of his hand around hers, something inside her broke. Hot tears pricked at the back of her eyes and she blinked them away.

Growing up with Natalie, she’d always felt second best. She was used to that. What she couldn’t cope with was other people’s pity. Rory’s pity, especially. She snatched her hand away.

“No.” She gave him a tight smile. “I’m perfectly aware of that.”

Chapter Eight

“Don’t go. We’re having a good time, aren’t we? And it’s late now. Too late to go traipsing to the other side of London.” Rory looked at her imploringly. “We can watch a film and it doesn’t even have to be one of mine,” he said, a rueful smile on his lips. “And I’ll make you breakfast. How does that sound? Scrambled eggs? Pancakes with maple syrup? You choose.”

Molly wavered, her earlier resolve to get away now waning. Oh God! Rory was offering to make her breakfast. Any normal girl would jump at the opportunity, but then she hadn’t met him under normal circumstances. As much as it had seemed like the perfect date tonight, it wasn’t anything of the sort. If he wasn’t her client, then she would never have been here in the first place.

Everything had become muddied between them and despite what her heart was telling her, to stay and live dangerously for once, she knew she should leave with the remnants of her professionalism hanging in place.

Only there wasn’t much of it left now. She shouldn’t have gotten snarky with him. He was only showing an interest, expressing sympathy at what had been a particularly rubbish time of her life, but the way he looked at her through those dark, probing eyes, pulling aside the layers of her carefully constructed barrier, exposing the deep wounds within, left her feeling vulnerable and exposed under his scrutiny. She wasn’t used to being on the end of a barrage of questions about her personal life, much preferring to be the one asking the questions.

To Rory, she’d presented herself as a career woman, successful in her own business, independent and self-assured, exactly the way she wanted him to view her. Tonight she’d let down her guard, showing a side of herself that she rarely visited. It had been a wonderful evening, everything about it, the film, the deliciously oozing burger, the champagne, Rory’s company, so much so that her whole body was fizzing with excitement, but she could feel her heightened emotions bubbling beneath the surface. Talking about Paul, remembering the hurt, she felt the tears threatening to fall, but she didn’t want Rory to see her like that. He was looking to her to find him a wife. What would he think to realize that beneath the surface she was an emotional wreck?

“No, I’ve taken up too much of your time as it is. Thanks so much for inviting me tonight, Rory. I’ve had an amazing time, but I really should be going now.”

He grabbed her by the wrist, his hold insistent.

“Don’t,” he whispered, her breath against her ear making her shudder. “Stay.”

He leaned over, leaving a featherlight kiss on her cheek, his hand gently caressing the other side of her face, the lightness of his touch sending ripples of anticipation along the length of her body.

“Okay, so pancakes don’t do it for you. What about a big fry-up then? Eggs, bacon, sausages, hash browns, the works. Come on, Molls.”

She felt her resolve melting even further, especially on the receiving end of Rory’s seductive gaze. It was late, it would be freezing outside. And Rory could be very convincing when he wanted to be. The last thing she wanted to do was go out in the cold, but staying here with Rory would mean what exactly? The clearly defined lines between them were blurring. Consultant and client, one friend to another, international heartthrob, adoring fan. She knew which category she fell into at the moment.

“I haven’t got a change of clothes,” she said weakly, looking down at her go-anywhere dress, which probably wouldn’t run to covering Saturday morning lounging around.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. There’ll be some spare track suit bottoms and tops in the spare room you can borrow.” A silent pause hovered between them. “My sister’s,” he added with a wry smile.

“You haven’t got a sister, Rory!”

Did she want to be a number added to his long list of conquests? And where would it leave their business relationship? She would hardly be in the best position to find him a wife if she was sampling the goods for herself!

“Oh, go on, Molls. It’s been a lovely evening and I don’t want it to end. Don’t be a spoilsport. It’s not like I’m asking you to marry me or anything.”

Of course he wasn’t, so why the sharp pang of disappointment on hearing those words? She ran her hand through her hair. She wasn’t thinking straight. Too much champagne, too much time spent in Rory’s company, too much time way out of her comfort zone. Still, she’d come to the conclusion that he wouldn’t be her client for very much longer anyway, so where was the harm? It wouldn’t matter about breaking any professional code, the company policy or her own personal boundaries if Rory wouldn’t be on her books for much longer.

His fingers traced a line over her shoulders and along her collarbone, her insides melting, and she knew she didn’t have a hope in hell.