This Heart of Mine (20 page)

As one who'd babbled, Molly couldn't let that pass. "
Mamie in Earnest
, painted in 1968, a very early watercolor." She poured out the batter onto the griddle. "An emotionally complex work with a deceptive simplicity of line.
Tokens
, painted around 1971, a dry brush watercolor. The critics hated it, but they were wrong. From 1996 to 1998 you concentrated on acrylics with the
Desert Series
. Stylistically, those paintings are a pastiche—postmodern eclecticism, classicism, with a nod toward the Impressionists that only you could have pulled off."

Kevin smiled. "Molly's summa cum laude. Northwestern. She writes bunny books. My personal favorite of your paintings is a landscape—don't have a clue when you painted it or what the critics had to say about it—but there's this kid in the distance and I like it."

"I love
Street Girl
," Lilly said. "A solitary female figure on an urban street, worn-down red shoes, a hopeless expression on her face. Ten years ago it sold for twenty-two thousand dollars."

"Twenty-four."

"Twenty-two," she said smoothly. "I bought it."

For the first time Liam Jenner seemed to be at a loss for words. But not for long. "What do you do for a living?"

Lilly took a sip of coffee before she spoke. "I used to solve crimes."

Molly briefly debated letting Lilly's evasion go, but she was too curious to see what would happen. "This is Lilly Sherman, Mr. Jenner. She's quite a famous actress."

He leaned back in his chair and studied her before he finally murmured, "That silly poster. Now I remember. You were wearing a yellow bikini."

"Yes, well, the poster days are obviously long behind me."

"Praise God for that. The bikini was obscene."

Lilly looked surprised, then indignant. "There was nothing obscene about it. Compared to today it was modest."

His heavy brows drew together. "Covering your body with anything was obscene. You should have been nude."

"I'm outta here." Kevin headed back to the dining room.

Wild horses couldn't have dragged Molly from that kitchen, and she slipped a plate of pancakes in front of each of them.

"Nude?" Lilly's cup clattered into the saucer. "Not in this lifetime. I once passed up a fortune to pose for
Playboy
."

"What does
Playboy
have to do with it? I'm talking about art, not titillation." He tucked into the pancakes. "Excellent breakfast, Molly. Leave here and come cook for me."

"I'm actually a writer, not a cook."

"The children's books." His fork paused in midair. "I've thought about writing a children's book…" He speared one of Lilly's uneaten pancakes from her plate. "Probably not much of a market for my ideas."

Lilly sniffed. "Not if they involve nudes."

Molly giggled.

Jenner shot her a quelling gaze.

"Sorry." Molly bit her lip, then gave an unladylike snort.

Jenner's frown grew more ferocious. She was ready to apologize again when she spotted a small quiver at the corner of his mouth. So Liam Jenner wasn't quite the curmudgeon he pretended to be. This was getting more and more interesting.

He gestured toward Lilly's half-filled mug. "You can take that with you. What's left of your breakfast, too. We need to go."

"I never said I'd sit for you. I don't like you."

"Nobody does. And of course you'll sit for me." His voice deepened with sarcasm. "People stand in line for the honor."

"Paint Molly. Just look at those eyes."

Jenner studied her. Molly blinked self-consciously. "They're quite extraordinary," he said. "Her face is becoming interesting, but she hasn't lived in it long enough for it to be really fascinating."

"Hey, don't talk about me when I'm listening."

He lifted a dark eyebrow at Molly, then returned his attention to Lilly. "Is it just me, or are you this stubborn with everyone?"

"I'm not being stubborn. I'm simply protecting your reputation for artistic infallibility. Perhaps if I were twenty again, I'd pose for you, but—"

"Why would I be interested in painting you when you were twenty?" He seemed genuinely perplexed.

"Oh, I think that's obvious," Lilly said lightly.

He studied her for a moment, his expression difficult to read. Then he shook his head. "Of course. Our national obsession with emaciation. Aren't you a little old to be still buying into that?"

Lilly planted a perfect smile on her face as she got up from her chair. "Of course. Thank you for breakfast, Molly. Goodbye, Mr. Jenner."

His gaze followed her as she swept from the kitchen. Molly wondered if he noticed the tension she was carrying in her shoulders.

She left him to his own thoughts while he finished his coffee. Finally he picked up the plates from the table and carried them over to the sink. "Those were the best pancakes I've had in years. Tell me what I owe you."

"Owe me?"

"This is a commercial establishment," he reminded her.

"Oh, yeah. But there's absolutely no charge. It was my pleasure."

"I appreciate it." He turned to leave.

"Mr. Jenner."

"Just Liam."

She smiled. "Come for breakfast anytime you want. You can slip in through the kitchen."

He nodded slowly. "Thanks. I just might do that."

"Come closer to the water, Daphne," Benny said.

"I won't get you wet."

Daphne Makes a Mess

"Any ideas for a new book?" Phoebe asked early the next afternoon over the phone.

An unwelcome subject, but since Molly had spent the first ten minutes of their conversation dodging Celia the Hen's nosy questions about Kevin, anything was an improvement. "A few. But remember that
Daphne Takes a Tumble
is the first book on a three-book contract. Birdcage won't accept another manuscript until I finish making the changes they want." No need to tell her sister she still hadn't started on those changes, although she'd borrowed Kevin's car after breakfast and gone into town to buy some art supplies.

"SKIFSA is a joke."

"Not a very funny one. I don't have a TV in the cottage. Have they popped up lately?"

"Last night. The new gay rights legislation in Congress has bought them a lot of local airtime." Phoebe's hesitation wasn't a good sign. "Moll, they mentioned Daphne again."

"I can't believe it! Why are they doing this? It's not like I'm a big-time children's author."

"This is Chicago, and you're the wife of the city's most famous quarterback. They're using that connection to get air-time. You
are
still Kevin's wife, aren't you?"

Molly didn't want to get into that discussion again. "Temporarily. Next time remind me to find a publisher with a little backbone." She wished she hadn't said that, since her publisher wasn't the only one who needed some backbone. Once again she reminded herself that she didn't have any choice, not if she wanted to pay her bills.

As if Phoebe had read her mind, she said, "How are you doing for money? I know you haven't—"

"I'm doing fine. No problem." As much as Molly loved her sister, she sometimes wished that everything Phoebe touched hadn't turned to gold. It made Molly feel so inadequate. Phoebe was wealthy, beautiful, and emotionally stable. Molly was poor, merely attractive, and she'd been a lot closer to a nervous breakdown than she'd ever admit. Phoebe had overcome enormous odds to become one of the most powerful owners in the NFL, but Molly couldn't even defend her fictional bunny from a real-life attack.

After she hung up, she chatted with some of the guests, then put fresh towels in the bathrooms while Kevin checked a retired couple from Cleveland into one of the cottages. Afterward she headed to her own cottage so she could change into the red suit he'd bought her and go for a swim.

As she pulled the two-piece suit from the bag, she discovered that the bottom wasn't quite a thong, but since it was held together by only a narrow tie on each side, it was a little skimpier than she liked. The top, however, had an underwire that pushed her up in all the right places, and Roo seemed to approve.

Although the air temperature was in the low eighties, the lake still hadn't warmed up, and the beach was deserted when she got there. She hissed against the cold as she waded in. Roo got his paws wet, then backed off and chased the herons instead. When she couldn't stand the torture any longer, she dove under.

She came up gasping, then began a vigorous sidestroke to keep warm as she caught sight of Kevin standing on the Common. Nine years of summer camp had taught her the importance of the buddy system, but he was near enough that he'd hear her yell if she started to drown.

She flipped to her back and swam for a while, avoiding the deeper water because, no matter what Kevin said, she was an extremely sensible person when it came to water safety. The next time she looked toward the Common, he was standing exactly where he'd been before.

He looked bored.

She waved her arm to catch his attention. He gave her a desultory wave back.

This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.

She dove under and began to think.

Kevin watched Molly in the water while he waited for the garbage company to show up with the new Dumpster. He spotted a flash of crimson as she jackknifed, then dove beneath the surface. Buying that particular swimsuit for her had been a big mistake. It showed way too much of the tempting little body he was having an increasingly hard time ignoring. But the suit's color had caught his eye yesterday in the boutique because it was almost the same shade her hair had been the first time they'd met.

Her hair didn't look that way now. It had only been four days, but she was taking care of herself again, and her hair was the same rich color as the maple syrup he'd poured over the pancakes she'd made. He felt as if he were watching her come back to life. Her skin had lost its pasty look, and her eyes had begun to sparkle, especially when she wanted to give him a hard time.

Those eyes… That wicked slant shouted to the world that she was up to no good, but he seemed to be the only one who got the message. Phoebe and Dan saw brainy Molly, the lover of children, bunnies, and ridiculous dogs. Only he seemed to understand that Molly Somerville's veins had trouble rushing through them instead of blood.

On the flight back to Chicago, Dan had lectured him about how seriously she'd always taken everything. How as a kid she never did anything wrong. What a good student she'd been, a model citizen. He'd said that Molly was twenty-seven going on forty. Twenty-seven going on
seven
was more like it. No wonder she'd made a career as a children's book author. She was entertaining her peer group!

It galled him that she had the audacity to call him reckless. He'd never have given away fifteen million dollars. As far as he could tell, she didn't know anything about playing it safe.

He saw another flash of red in the water. All those years of summer camp had made her a good swimmer with a steady, graceful stroke. And a nice, neat body… But the last thing he wanted to do was start thinking about her body again, so he thought about the way she made him laugh.

Which didn't mean she wasn't a pain in the butt. She had a lot of nerve trying to poke around in his head, since it was screwed on a lot tighter than hers ever would be.

His eyes flicked back over the lake, but he couldn't see her. He waited for a flash of red. And waited… His shoulders grew tense as the surface remained smooth. He took a step forward. Then her head bobbed up, little more than a dot in the distance. Just before it disappeared again, she managed to shout one faint word.

"Help!"

He started to run.

Molly held her breath as long as she could, then resurfaced to fill her lungs. Sure enough, he'd just thrown himself into the water with a very nice racing dive.

This should get his adrenaline pumping.

She flailed around until she was sure he'd spotted her, then went under again, diving deep and swimming off to her right. It was a rotten thing to do, but it was for the greater good. A bored Kevin was an unhappy Kevin, and it was long past time he had some fun at the Wind Lake Campground. Maybe then he wouldn't be so anxious to sell it.

She surfaced again. Thanks to her crafty underwater change of direction, he was heading too far to the left.
She caught another breath and went back under.

As Daphne went under for the third time, Benny swam—

Delete that.

As Benny went under for the third time, Daphne swam faster and faster…

Being rescued by Daphne would serve Benny right, Molly thought virtuously. He shouldn't have gone swimming without a buddy.

She opened her eyes underwater, but the lake was murky from all the rain, and she couldn't see much. She remembered how squeamish some of her campmates used to be about swimming in a lake instead of a pool—
What if a fish bites me
?—but Molly had grown used to it after her first summer, and she felt right at home.

Her lungs were starting to burn, and she came up for more air. He was about fifteen yards to her left. She refused to think about the boy and the wolf as she made her next move.

"Help!"

He pivoted in the water, wet blond hair sticking to that superb forehead. "Hold on, Molly!"

"Hurry! I've got a"—
hole in my head
—"a cramp!" Down she went.

She cut to the right, swam the pattern, headed for the sideline—made ol' Number Eleven work for it.

Her lungs were burning again. Time to resurface near the goal line.

He'd spent two decades picking out receivers in a crowd, and he spotted her instantly. His stroke was powerful, and she got so caught up watching the way he churned through the water that she nearly forgot to go under again.

His hand brushed her thigh, then fastened around the skimpy bottom of her bathing suit.

His hand. On her butt. She should have thought further ahead.

He jerked hard on the suit to pull her to him, and the skimpy pair of ties that were holding it on snapped. He clamped his arm around her and pulled her to the surface.

The bottom part of the suit didn't come along.

As it trailed away in the water, she could only wonder how she'd gotten herself into this situation. Was this going to be her reward for doing a little good in the world?

"Are you all right?"

She glimpsed his face just before he started hauling her toward the shore. She'd really scared him. Part of her felt guilty, but she still remembered to cough and gasp for air as he dragged her through the water. At the same time she struggled with her modesty.

He wasn't even breathing heavily, and for a moment she let herself relax against him and enjoy the sensation of his body doing the work for hers. But it was hard to be both relaxed and bare-butt naked. "I—I had a cramp."

"Which leg is it?" His own leg brushed her hip, but he didn't seem to notice anything was missing.

"Stop—stop for a minute, will you?"

He slowed in the water and turned her in his arms without letting her go. She saw that anger had replaced his concern. "You shouldn't have been in the water by yourself. You could have drowned."

"It was… stupid."

"Which leg?"

"My… left. But it's better. I can move it now."

He let go of one arm to reach for her leg.

"No!" she squeaked, afraid of what he'd encounter on the way.

"Is it cramping again?"

"Not… exactly."

"Let's get to shore. I'll look at it there."

"I'm fine now. I can—"

He didn't pay any attention. Instead, he started hauling her toward the beach again.

"Uh, Kevin…" She coughed as she caught a mouthful.

"Keep still, damn it!"

Nice way for a PK to talk, especially to a drowning victim
. She did her best to keep her lower half away from his lower half, but he kept sliding against her. Slip sliding… slip sliding… She groaned against a rush of sensation.

His rhythm changed, and she realized he'd touched bottom. She tried to disengage herself. "Let me go. I can walk now."

He swam farther in before he loosened his grip and stood. She dropped her feet.

The water came to her chin, but it was below his shoulders. Wet strands of hair plastered his forehead, and he looked grumpy. "You could be a tad more grateful, you know. I just saved your annoying life."

At least he didn't looked bored any longer. "Thank you."

He still had her arm, and he began moving toward the shore. "Have you ever had a cramp like this before?"

"Never. It took me completely by surprise."

"Why are you dragging your feet?"

"I'm cold. Probably a little shocky. Would you lend me your T-shirt?"

"Sure." He kept heading toward the beach.

She dragged her heels. "Could I have it now, please?"

"Now?" He stopped. The water lapped at her breasts. The red top had pushed them up quite nicely, and his gaze lingered. She noticed that his lashes had formed aggressive little spikes over those sharp green eyes, and she fought a sudden wobbliness in her knees.

"I'd like to put it on before we get out of the water," she said as pleasantly as she could.

He pulled his gaze from her breasts and started moving again. "It'll be easier to get you warm on the beach."

"Stop! Will you just stop!"

He did, but he was looking at her as if she'd sprung a fresh leak in the head.

She took a nibble out of her bottom lip. No good deed went unpunished, and she was going to have to tell him. "I have a slight problem…"

"I'll say. You don't have any sense. That Northwestern diploma you're so proud of should have read 'summa cum loony.'"

"Just give me your T-shirt. Please."

He made no move to take it off. Instead, he grew suspicious. "What kind of problem?"

"I seem to have… I'm really cold. Aren't you cold?"

He waited, that stubborn expression clearly indicating he wasn't going anywhere until she'd 'fessed up. She mustered her dignity. "I seem to have…" She cleared her throat. "Left the bottom half of my swimsuit… on the bottom."

Naturally, the first thing he did was stare straight down into the murky water.

"Stop that!"

As he gazed back up at her, his eyes looked less like jade daggers and more like happy green jelly beans. "How did you do that?"

"
I
didn't do it.
You
did. When you rescued me."

"I pulled off your suit?"

"You did."

He grinned. "I've always been damn good with women."

"Never mind. Just give me your stupid T-shirt!"

Was it accidental that his thigh brushed her hip? He gazed down into the water again, and she was possessed with a sudden crazy wish for all the murkiness to clear away. She heard something husky and seductive in his voice.

"So what you're telling me is that you're bare-ass naked under the water."

"You know exactly what I'm telling you."

"Now, this makes for an interesting dilemma."

"There's no dilemma."

He stroked the corner of his mouth with his thumb, and his smile was as soft as smoke. "We're up against the essence of true capitalism right here, right now, you and me, God bless America for the great country it is."

"What are you—"

"Pure capitalism. I have a commodity that you want—"

"My leg is starting to cramp again."

"The question is"—he lingered over his words, his eyes grazing her breasts—"what are you going to give me for that commodity?"

"I've been giving you my services as a cook," she said quickly.

"I don't know. Those sandals yesterday were pretty expensive. I think I've already paid for at least three days of cooking."

He was making her insides purr, and she didn't like it. "I won't be around for another day if you don't take that stupid shirt off your stupid overdeveloped chest right this second!"

"I never met such an ungrateful woman in my life." He started to pull it off, stalled to rub his arm, tugged on it again, inched it over his chest, flexed his gorgeous muscles…

"That's twenty yards for delay of game!"

"It's a five-yard penalty," he pointed out from under the T-shirt.

"Not today!"

He finally got it off, and she snatched it from him before he took it into his head to play keep-away, a game she was fairly certain an NFL quarterback could win against a bunny-book author.

"Bare-ass naked…" His smile grew broader.

She ignored him and struggled to put on the shirt, but handling all that wet cotton in bust-deep frigid water wasn't exactly easy. Naturally, he didn't help.

"Maybe it would work better if you climbed out of the water before you did that."

His humor was too infantile to merit a response. She finally got the T-shirt on inside out, but a huge air pocket left it billowing around her. She pushed it down and marched toward the shore, which was mercifully empty of guests.

Kevin stayed where he was and watched Molly emerge from the water. The view from behind was making it hard for him to take a good solid breath. It didn't seem to have occurred to her that white T-shirts pretty much turned to tissue paper when they got wet. First that trim little waist emerged, then curvy hips, then her legs, as sturdy and pretty as any he'd ever seen.

He swallowed hard at the sight of that sweet little bottom. The glaze of white T-shirt made it look as if it had been sponged with wet sugar.

He licked his lips. It was a good thing the water was cold enough for an iceberg, because the sight of her striding toward the beach had set him on fire. That small round bottom… the dark, seductive crevice. And he hadn't even caught the view from the front.

A circumstance he was about to change.

Molly heard Kevin splashing behind her. Then he was next to her, taking giant steps in the water. He pulled ahead, back muscles rippling as he pumped his arms. He hit the beach and turned around to face her.

Exactly what did he think was so interesting?

She began to feel nervous. One of his hands moved. He tugged absentmindedly on the front of his wet, low-riding jeans. "Maybe it's not so hard to believe your mother was a showgirl after all."

She glanced down at herself and yelped. Then she grabbed the T-shirt fabric, pulled it away from her body, and turned to rush back to the cottage.

"Uh… Molly? The view's pretty interesting from the back, too. And we've got company coming."

Sure enough, the Pearsons were approaching in the distance. They were barely visible behind beach chairs, tote bags, and a cooler.

Molly wasn't going to rely on Kevin's cooperation to get back to the cottage, so she headed toward the woods, holding the T-shirt away from her body in the front and back, while she stretched it to make it longer.

"If anybody throws you a fish," he called after her, "it's because you're waddling like a penguin."

"If anybody asks you to bray, it's because you're acting like an—"

"Save your sweet talk for later, Daphne. The garbage guys just drove up with the new Dumpster."

"Shut the lid after you climb in." She picked up her waddle and somehow managed to reach the cottage without further mishap. Once inside, she pressed her hands to her hot cheeks and laughed.

But Kevin wasn't laughing. As he stood on the Common gazing in the direction of the cottage, he knew he couldn't keep going on like this. It was ironic. He was a married man, but he wasn't taking advantage of the principal advantage marriage offered.

The question was, what did he intend to do about it?