Chapter 37
37
Mason: Hey Molly. It’s my birthday on Saturday 31st. Food, fun, and music from 1989. Steaks hit the grill @ 7 p.m. No RSVP needed, but please come. Let’s party!
The last two words of Mason’s text didn’t really sound too appealing, nor did the steaks, but apart from a few casual evening meals with her cousins, Molly hadn’t had a night out in ages. It was high time she broke the social ice again.
House keys in her bag and ready to leave, Molly gave herself a mental slap and took several deep breaths before heading downstairs to her Uber. She was off to a party, and she’d enjoy herself no matter what. If not, she’d be home in bed by ten with a good book and several rows of chocolate.
The century-old villa reminded her of home, and as she pressed the doorbell, the muffled thump-thump-thump of bass had her humming along to “Love Shack” under her breath.
The door flew open. “Molly, you came!” Mason leaned in for a hug and squeezed her tight.
“Of course I did.”
He beckoned with both hands, his easy laugh filling the space between them. “Come in, come in. You know what? It’s been way too long.”
“It has. How have you been?” She offered him a gift bag filled with biscotti, organic olive oil, and a bottle of Lime Tree Hill’s limoncello.
“Great. And you didn’t have to bring anything.” Mason peeked inside. “Aww, Molly. That’s amazing! Thank you so much.”
“It’s just a little something.”
Mason practically pulled her along the hall and into the kitchen, where several people she didn’t know were engrossed in conversation. “Come and meet my man. He’s a little on the shy side, so you might have to do most of the talking. Oh, and Todd and Kristy are here and most of the contestants from the bake-off weekend.”
And Jake? “Really? I can’t wait to see everyone again.” And she meant it. Although Molly had enjoyed being part of the bake-off team, she’d seen hardly any of them since that weekend.
She mingled, engaged in a deep and meaningful conversation about the nation’s state of affairs with Mason’s husband, Niko, downed shots with the rest of the bake-off contestants, and danced to eighties music: the Fine Young Cannibals, Cher, and Bon Jovi.
Ten p.m. came and went, then eleven, but Molly didn’t care; she was having too much fun. Besides, Kristy had offered her a ride home, and she wasn’t ready to leave just yet either.
A little unsteady on her feet, Molly stepped through the French doors and onto the back verandah, where she discovered a small table loaded with platters of bite-sized desserts. She picked up a lemon-and-blueberry tart and walked out onto the lawn, the custard swirling on her tongue. The air held that distinct chill of a late August frost, and all around the garden, tall trees were dressed for the occasion in fairy lights: some white, some gold.
The music changed to a Lisa Stansfield classic, and Molly swayed to the beat, her arms outstretched as she sang along with several other bake-off contestants.
When she turned back toward the house, there he stood—Jake Sinclair, watching her as he leaned against a verandah post, head canted and a knowing grin on his lips.
Tipsy, Molly stared up at him. She longed to run her fingers through the hair curling around his nape, skim her palm across the bristle of his beard, and kiss him like she meant it. Surrender to nostalgia for old times’ sake. Just once. And yet…
She moved forward. Six unsteady steps, then four more ascending onto the veranda.
“Molly.”
As he held her gaze, the world around her vanished. He raked his fingers through his hair, and once again, she wished she could do the same, perhaps even give it a playful tug.
“I was hoping you’d be here,” he continued.
“Really? And why’s that?”
Jake closed his eyes for a second, as if her words frustrated him, then grabbed her hand and ushered her inside.
He let go when Kristy appeared in the kitchen doorway. They made small talk, Jake back to his usual charming self while Molly stood unsteadily at his side.
Kristy turned to her. “Hubby’s just saying his goodbyes. Meet you back here in fifteen?”
“Okay. Thanks.”
As soon as she walked away, Jake led Molly into a compact office off the kitchen and shut the door.
“What are you doing?” Molly whispered. “We can’t be in here.”
He crossed the room to the small sash window and shut the blind. Turned back to face her. “I just want to talk.”
“I hope it won’t be too deep and meaningful.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I’m kinda drunk right now.” She giggled. “And I don’t trust myself to be discreet.”
He smiled, his features visible in the blue glow from the computer screen on the desk. “So I’ve noticed. To tell you the truth, I’m a little drunk myself, so my discretion may be off as well.”
“So, Chef Sinclair, how’s life treating you?”
“I’m not really sure at the moment.” He slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Hesitated. “You seem happy.”
Was she? Happy? And was it okay to be happy without him, even for a night? “Yes. It’s a great party, and Mason’s such a sweet guy. I’m so pleased I came.” Molly pressed her lips together, trying to stop herself from waffling.
“How’s that ‘little time’ project going for you?” he asked.
“Surprisingly okay. Oh, and, I met with your mother yesterday.”
“What, again? Are you still in one piece?”
Molly raised her arms in the air and did a twirl. “Yes, as you can see, I’m completely unscathed.”
He chuckled. “Well, that’s a relief.”
“Yeah, I had things I wanted to say, so…”
Jake nodded. Stared. “Anyway, I wanted to thank you.”
“For?”
“Everything. I didn’t appreciate how much your support meant to me until I was on my way home from Paris.”
A memory surfaced of the sun peeking through the blinds of his bedroom the morning after she found him at the cemetery. “Oh, no problem.”
“That night when you came to find me, you left without saying goodbye.”
“I said goodbye,” she murmured, “but you didn’t hear me.” Molly cupped his face in one hand and whispered, “I kissed you too.”
Jake tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. She stilled under his touch, but beneath her breastbone, her heart raced.
“Did you?”
“Yes. Just a peck.”
“Like this?” His lips skimmed her cheek—once, twice—as his hips pressed into her. “I must have been sound asleep.”
She breathed deeply, the excitement of being with him again too strong to ignore. “You were… and so peaceful that I couldn’t bear to wake you.”
“I wish you had.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I want to remember our last kiss.” Jake gently backed her against the wall and stood, one hand resting above her head. Molly’s breasts tightened against the satin of her bra as she recalled the last time they’d had sex at Silkwood Crescent, when they abandoned sleep to explore one another’s bodies.
She lifted her chin and tilted her head as Jake kissed the side of her neck, her earlobe. And, as Molly cast aside her inhibitions under the effects of one too many shots, she wanted him so badly that it scared her.
They kissed now, Jake taking the lead and Molly following with no concern for the consequences, overwhelmed by the sensation of being with him again.
He slid a hand up inside her dress and rested it on her thigh. “I’ve missed you.”
“You have?”
“So fucking much it hurts.”
“I’ve missed you too.”
With his hand moving toward her panties, Molly sighed softly as the ache for him intensified.
“I’ve imagined this moment for three whole weeks,” he whispered as his hand made contact. “Pictured you before me, your face flushed as you moaned my name.”
“Really?” she panted.
He leaned into her harder. “Yes, really. You gonna come for me, mon ange ?”
Mon ange. While he’d used that endearment only a few times, the sound of it falling from his lips never failed to arouse her. Even though she still had no idea what it meant.
Eyes closed, Molly moved to his rhythm while outside in the real world, Tom Petty’s “Free Fallin’” played on the sound system. “Jake! Yes. There.”
He breathed into her neck, his lips hot and whispers commanding. “Where? Right here?” He stilled for a moment. “You have to be quiet. Can you do that?”
She opened her eyes. “Um…”
Jake’s mouth moved toward her cleavage, his lips warm on her skin. “You can and you will.”
What? Molly closed her eyes, the room spinning as she struggled to release her breath.
“That’s it… let go. I’ll catch you.”
“You promise?” she panted.
“I promise.”
And as Molly’s knees buckled, that’s exactly what he did. Wrapped his free arm around her and held on tight, his touch intensifying until she lost complete control.
A soft knock made them both start. “Molly? Are you in there?” Kristy’s voice came muffled through the door. “We’re leaving in a few minutes.”
Jake’s hand lowered to her butt as he leaned his forehead against hers and muttered, “No! Tell her I’ll see you home. I need you.”
Molly pulled back and looked over his shoulder. A photo of Mason and Niko smiled back at her from the computer screen saver. Shit! “Tell me that didn’t just happen,” she whispered.
That lazy smile. “I can’t do that, mon ange .”
With her heart still beating double-time, Molly retrieved her panties from around her ankles before combing her fingers through her hair. “I have to go. We shouldn’t even be in here. And I’m sorry, Chef. Guess that’s one nil to me.”
Jake chuckled. “Raincheck?”
She straightened her dress and fanned both hands in front of her cheeks to cool them down. “Maybe one moody Monday when we both have nothing else on.”
“I look forward to it.”
Feeling a little lightheaded, Molly slipped into the back seat of Kristy’s BMW, her coat wrapped tightly around her against the looming frost. And as they drove past the port and into her street, despite Kristy talking nonstop about the party, all she could think about was Jake.
After saying goodbye at the curb, Molly strolled to her front door, thankful Kristy hadn’t asked any questions about her relationship with Chef Sinclair. Because right at that moment, she had no answers to give. They’d made out in the office like naughty kids—end of story. She only hoped no one had heard them, or rather, heard her.
She’d almost fallen asleep when her phone pinged with a text. Knowing it would be him, Molly grabbed it off the nightstand.
Jake: Hey you. Can’t sleep. Keep thinking about that gorgeous expression on your face when you came. Holy shit, Molly. I have trouble controlling myself around you when I’ve been drinking. In fact, I have trouble controlling myself around you all the time.
Roll on that moody Monday. Because I really can’t wait to be with you again. I love us together… hanging out, talking, touching. And this space BS is seriously doing my head in.
I’m sorry about Ava. I should have told you sooner. We weren’t a good fit in lots of ways, but I still have total respect for her. So… yeah.
Come back to me soon. Miss you. In fact, come over now. Shall I order an Uber for you?
Jake: Molly??? Are you home yet?
Jake: Molly???
Molly lay back on the pillows and laughed. It was the longest text he’d ever sent her and the most he’d bared his soul in one go. Pity he was hammered.
Molly: Sorry, Chef. No can do. Drink some water and go to sleep.
Jake: But I want to sleep with you. Your skin is so soft. And you’re warm and cuddly and so darn sexy… I can’t fall asleep without you.
Molly: Course you can. Goodnight.