Almost a Family (7 page)

“That’s the main thing,” she whispered in response. Her aroused gaze lifted from the string to his face and she saw color creep into his cheeks. She’d embarrassed him, and the knowledge made one side of her mouth twitch.

Still, only four feet separated them, and the urge to touch was strong. Molly felt her jeans hugging her tightly, felt the tightness of her bra straps as she became aware of everything in their tiny sphere of existence. She saw Jason flex and unflex his right hand, and she wanted to feel it cushioning her neck as he kissed her silly. She saw his chest rise and fall beneath his T-shirt and wanted to feel that chest against hers. The memory of it was so strong she could almost feel it now, warm and hard and smooth.

It took no longer than a heartbeat. Each took a step and a half and they were in each other’s arms. As she’d imagined, Jason’s right hand captured the back of her head as it had thousands of times before, while the other wrapped around her back and pulled her close against his hard chest. His mouth was firm and hot against hers and she pressed closer, losing herself in his taste and texture, and confirming that nothing had changed. They were still a perfect fit.

She lifted her hands and threaded them through his dark hair, leaving trails in their wake as he stepped her backward, pressing her against the foyer wall. His hips pinned her there while his tongue danced with hers. He made a soft sound in his throat and she felt a current run from her breasts to her core. Only one thing passed through her mind as his hand slid up her ribs. Sara was asleep.

At that moment, she felt something vibrate against her pelvis.

“Of all the rotten timing,” Jason muttered, tearing his mouth away from hers. He reached down, took the cellphone from his pocket and looked at the number.

Molly stared up at him, her eyes
dazed as desire coursed through her
body. Oh no. In another few minutes, he could have carried her to bed and she wouldn’t have put up a fight. Not one ounce of opposition. The thought exhilarated and frightened her all at once. Would making love to him now be the same as it had been? Better? Would all their anger and recriminations fuel it to burn even hotter?

Yeah, until they were both completely obliterated by the flames.

She could not lose control with Jason. She could not. Things were already too messy. She was absolutely going back to Calgary when Kim was better. What had she done?

He scowled at the phone and she saw his lips were puffy from kissing, his hair untidy. She lifted her fingers and touched her own lips. They were still humming from the force of his mouth on hers. The rest of her was resonating like a plucked string.

“It’s the answering service. I’ve got to call in.”

She nodded jerkily. “I should wake Sara. She and I have to have a chat anyway.”

He sent her a look that said he was sorry they’d stopped. It said this wasn’t a good idea. It said things were growing complicated. It said I don’t want it to end here. She felt his lingering touch in that moment, even though his hands were no where near her skin. It was tempting to say the hell with it all and simply launch herself back in his arms.

“Go,” she whispered, and with one last complicated look, he disappeared. A second later, she heard his deep voice on the phone.

She went to the living room and stared at Sara’s sleeping form for a few moments. It seemed no matter what steps she took to avoid Jason, someone, something was always there, pushing them together. It wasn’t fair. She’d spent years building her own life apart from him. He’d done the same. But now, in a few short weeks, she was right back there again. Wanting him more with every breath. Caring about him. Their lives entangled.

It had to stop. She’d built the life she wanted. She leaned over and shook the little girl’s arm lightly.

Jason hung up the phone and headed to the living room. Stopping in the doorway, he grinned at the stern tone in Molly’s voice as she sat on the edge of the sofa. She’d be so good with kids of her own, he thought, and his heart stopped for a moment before beginning to tick again. Molly didn’t want kids. Or more precisely, she didn’t want
his
kids.

He stepped inside the room and heard Molly say, “You can’t do that. You are absolutely not allowed to leave without me with you, and especially not to go alone. I was worried sick!”

“I’m sorry, Aunt Molly.” The girl lifted honest brown eyes to Molly’s. “I wanted to see Uncle Jason and you’d say no.” Her little voice was clogged with tears.

“Why would you say that?” Molly’s voice was puzzled as she questioned Sara.

“You always fight. When Mommy’s home, we visit all the time!”

Kids had a way of seeing things clearly, Jason realized. He approached and knelt beside the couch, speaking sternly. “Look, kiddo, you knew you were doing wrong, because you lied to me about it. You told me your Aunt Molly said it was okay.”

“I’m sorry, Uncle Jason. I’ll ask first next time.”

“You’d better.” He tapped his cheek. “Give me some sugar.”

She placed a kiss on his cheek. He saw Molly try to hide a smile at his quick capitulation. He didn’t care. He knew Sara a whole lot better than she did. Sara was a good kid who’d been through a lot and had made a bad decision. She was also the kind of kid who rarely needed tough discipline, a good talking-to was usually all that was required.

“I’ve got to go into the clinic,” Jason told them. “I could use a hand. There’s a hit-by-car coming in. The staff has already left for the day, and I’d hate to call one of them back.”

He wanted her to help at the clinic? “What about Sara?” Surely she should stay back and look after her niece. Molly thought about nursing a bloody animal and her stomach lurched.

“We can put her on the sofa in the compassion room. She’ll be fine. She’s right at home there. Aren’t you, muffin?”

Molly knew she wasn’t going to get out of it, and she’d look like a queasy coward if she refused. The way his eyes were imploring her right now made it difficult to say no to anything.

“All right. Let’s go, Sara.”

*

A beige sedan was already parked out front when they arrived. As Jason unlocked the clinic door and disengaged the alarm system, Molly held the door for the distraught young couple carrying the limp animal.

Molly asked Sara to show her the clinic while Jason got started. Sara led her through an open area with counters and stools and a refrigerator, past a tiny washroom and down the stairs to a small room decorated in calming cream and blue, complete with a low sofa, a chair, a large coffee table and a small TV and DVD player. It was the perfect place for a little downtime for both staff and clients.

“Can I watch a movie, Aunt Molly?”

“Sure, pumpkin.” Molly opened a small cabinet and perused a selection of kids’ movies. She picked an old Disney favorite. “You okay here by yourself for a while?”

Sara nodded. “I play here when Uncle Jason’s working. He has juice boxes.”

Molly kissed Sara’s head and smiled. Sometimes she could be so self-sufficient. It continually amazed Molly. “I’ll check on you later, okay?” But Sara already had her eyes glued to the screen.

Jason was in an exam room when Molly came back to the work area. He was bent over a limp and muddy brown dog, whose claws scratched on the stainless steel table with every disoriented movement.

“Grab a coat off the wall and a set of gloves,” he commanded, and silently Molly slipped into a white coat, buttoned it up and pulled her hands into stretchy latex gloves.

“Hold right here,” he said, and she gripped the dog’s leg as she was told, staring at the spot that he’d already shaved clean of hair.

Molly watched with fascination as the vein popped up beneath the V shape of her hand and Jason inserted the needle, hooking in an IV.

He rubbed the dog’s head affectionately, and Molly got a glimpse into Jason’s dedication and compassion. He’d been right to make this his profession. He wasn’t just competent, he was caring. Far more understanding than he could show to people sometimes.

“There you go, Casper. That’s a good boy.” He ruffled the dog’s ears lightly.

“What’s next?”

He carried Casper to the X-ray room. Molly slipped the heavy iron apron he gave her over her clothes and helped position Casper on the table. The dog cried out as she moved his left hip. When Jason looked at the films, he showed her where the break was in the dog’s leg. He left momentarily to talk to the owners, explaining Casper’s injuries and his course of treatment. Molly stayed in the exam room, patting Casper’s head. She had a look around, impressed. Jason had been out of school for only a few years, but it was obvious he’d worked very hard at setting up his own clinic. It was clean, orderly, complete with state of the art equipment, yet with a comfortable, homey touch for his patients’ owners.

He came back with the young couple behind him, their faces lined with worry. “He’s a bit out of it,” Jason explained, but smiled reassuringly. “But that’s because we’ve made him a little more comfortable. He’s going to be just fine. I promise.”

They patted Casper and whispered endearing words to him as he lay quietly, groggy with pain medication, his tongue hanging limply out of his mouth.

“We’ll set the bone and stitch up his lacerations,” Jason explained warmly. “Why don’t you call back on Monday to check on his progress? We’ll settle your bill when he’s ready to go home.”

They nodded, and the woman bent to kiss Casper’s brown head. “Thank you, Dr. Elliot.” She smiled at Molly who smiled back. “And thank you for coming in on a Saturday.”

“It was no problem,” he answered, but his gaze cut to Molly and she remembered very distinctly what the after-hours call had interrupted.

“Molly will show you out,” he suggested, asking her with his eyes if she’d mind. Without a word, Molly led the couple to the door. After they were gone, she locked the deadbolt behind them and made a quick check on Sara. The movie was still running, and Sara had helped herself to a cheese and cracker snack. Her head was on a needle-pointed cushion and she’d covered herself with the throw from the back of the couch.

When she returned to the exam room, Jason was finishing setting the bone. Casper’s mouth was open and his tongue lolled out. “Boy, he’s out of it,” Molly remarked. “Does he feel anything?”

Jason smiled a little at her concern. “Not much.”

“What will you do with him tonight?”

Jason pulled over a tray. “He’ll be fine here, and tomorrow morning Jan comes in to walk and feed the animals. She’ll make sure he’s fine, eating and peeing and such.”

“Oh.”

“He’s lucky he’s not hurt worse,” Jason continued. “This is nearly done. How’s Sara?”

Molly took the clear plastic bottle he offered and irrigated the wound as he indicated. She found gauze on the tray and dabbed it a bit while Jason prepared to suture the laceration.

“She’s fine. She got a snack and covered herself up.”

“She’s a good kid.”

“Mmm. Except when she takes off without asking.”

Jason chuckled. “Yeah. Except then.” Carefully he began stitching, and Molly marveled at his perfect sutures. His hands moved smoothly, almost poetic in their grace. Molly glanced up and saw the concentration on his features.

Oh dear.

She was getting hooked on him all over again, and that was too dangerous.

The whole afternoon they’d worked together in harmony. Molly had felt none of the resentment she had expected, nor the nausea. Instead, she’d followed his lead and had learned a lot without the strained atmosphere that seemed to surround them elsewhere. When Jason was here, doing his job, he was uncomplicated. Efficient and kind and competent, without ego. She looked down at his neat stitches, rinsed the wound again. Her coat had splatters of blood on it; she didn’t care. She’d actually enjoyed this afternoon. There had been no arguments, only conversation. But enjoying Jason was simply not in her life plan. It became too easy to forget all the reasons why she’d left him in the first place.

“This is nice,” he said quietly, mirroring her thoughts. Her stomach jumping, she stared at his hands making stitches rather than look in his eyes.

“Yes, it is. I don’t enjoy fighting with you.”

“Sure you do.” His fingers kept stitching evenly, but Molly knew if she looked up, he’d be wearing a half smile that popped his dimples.

“Well, maybe I do.” She dabbed at the wound and smiled a little.

“You always did,” he continued, his fingers squeaking slightly in the latex gloves. “We used to have some spectacular arguments. Remember the time we went camping at Mount Carlton? You were determined to go for a swim in the lake after hiking. I told you that you’d be a mess of sticks and it wouldn’t clean you up.”

“I remember,” she murmured, recalling all too well. They’d gone for the swim. She’d gone on and on about how refreshed she’d felt. Back in their tent, she’d peeled off her suit to discover her entire body covered in little sticks and bits of grass. They’d collapsed laughing. He’d picked the sticks off her skin and made love to her in the day’s waning light.

“I also remember us fighting over Elizabeth Lawrence.” His voice held a note of teasing.