A Millionaire For Molly

CHAPTER NINE

SILENCE.

The silence went on and on. Let the floor open up and swallow me, Molly pleaded to someone who obviously wasn’t listening. How can I be stuck alone with him?

‘Thank you for the froghouse,’ she managed at last. ‘But there’s no need for you to stay.’

‘On the contrary, there’s every need. We’re going out for lunch and we haven’t finished building.’

‘I can put it together myself.’ She swallowed and fought for some dignity. ‘Thank you for giving it to Sam. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.’

‘And you won’t?’

‘Yes,’ she snapped, abandoning dignity forthwith. ‘You’re putting it in front of the television. Great. I like watching a tank of frogs instead of television.’

‘I knew you would.’ He grinned. ‘You look that sort of girl.’

‘You have no idea of what sort of girl I am.’

‘Now, that’s where you’re wrong,’ he told her, his voice growing serious. ‘Because I’ve got it figured.’

‘I don’t want to hear.’

But he was brooking no interruption, talking almost to himself. ‘You’re the sort of girl who’d drop everything when her nephew’s orphaned-drop the life you love-come to a city that you hate. Put up with your nerdy cousin and put your life on hold…’

‘For my nephew,’ she snapped. ‘And a great guardian I make, I don’t think. I slept in today. I drank too much last night and I didn’t even get Sam to school on time. Social welfare would have a field-day.’

‘So how many times have you drunk too much since Sam was orphaned?’

‘Just last night.’

‘Then stop the self-blame. Anyone could see you had an excuse last night. It doesn’t take an Einstein to figure out what happened. Angela arrived, having broken off her engagement. You were keeping her company.’ His mouth quirked in laughter. ‘Berating men in general.’ He looked at her, his eyes searching and seeing maybe more than she wanted him to. ‘And now Angela bolts, leaving you to face the music, yet you do your best to repair her relationship. Her man’s off to buy the city out of flowers…’

She let herself get distracted. ‘Do you think he will?’

‘If he doesn’t, he’s a fool. You’ve handed him his salvation on a platter-and, considering the fact that Angela did the dirty on you, I’d call it a very generous salvation at that.’ He grinned and motioned to the sideboard. ‘Pity about the keys.’

The keys! Molly’s gaze swung to the sideboard, where he was pointing. Oh, for heaven’s sake, Guy had left the keys behind.

‘You saw! You let him go!’

‘Let’s just say I didn’t think Angela should be let off scot-free…’

Silence again. Molly tried a glower but it didn’t come off. He was smiling at her, and his smile was enough to unwoman her completely. It made her want to melt…

Melting was hardly appropriate.

‘It’s stupid,’ she said inconsequentially, to no one in particular. ‘It’s not Angela I’m mad at. You’re the one who’s the rat.’

‘I’m a rat?’ Those mobile eyebrows rose. ‘How can I be a rat? I’m buying a farm from you, and I saved your job, and I brought you a froghouse.’

She took a deep breath, searching for the words, and in the end only three would do. ‘You kissed me.’

There. The thing was said. It hung between them, a bald statement of fact with nowhere to go.

‘I kissed you.’ His smile faded. He eyed her warily and Molly thought-not for the first time-a scanty bath-wrap with moonbeams all over it was hardly the most dignified covering for the discussion she was having.

No matter. She forged on with resolution. ‘Yes.’

‘Does kissing you make me a rat?’

There was only one answer to that. ‘When you’re committed to another woman it does.’

He thought that through. The newspaper, he thought. Hell, she’d seen it.

Should he deny it? His gut instinct was to do just that, but then… Hadn’t he and Cara agreed never to be in danger of love? So maybe it was safer to let Molly think he was involved elsewhere. Then he’d be protected from just what was threatening.

‘You mean Cara?’

‘Who else do you think I mean? How many significant women do you have?’

Silence. Then, ‘You think I was being unfaithful?’

Here we go, Molly thought. This man’s morals were about as divorced from hers as they could possibly be. He had no idea that he’d done anything remotely questionable. In his eyes Molly was a woman, therefore she was available to be kissed. It was as simple as that.

‘We hardly forged a relationship,’ he said, and she nodded, expecting little else.

‘No.’

‘Then what’s the big deal?’

‘Nothing.’ She was glaring at him with every ounce of glare in her possession.

‘So why are you mad?’

‘Let’s just say I feel sorry for Cara and leave it at that.’

More silence. It stretched on and on. Then, ‘Are you intending to come to lunch in that?’ with a polite motion to her bathrobe, and Molly glared some more.

‘No!’

‘Then may I suggest you get yourself dressed while I finish the froghouse?’

‘I don’t want to-’

‘Come to lunch with me? I can see that.’ His tone was polite now, businesslike and aloof. Nothing more. ‘But there’s no choice-for both of us. So I’d suggest you come down off your high horse, haul yourself back into business mode and come out to lunch. Now.’

And without another word he turned his attention back to construction, leaving Molly to react as she would.

After all, it had nothing to do with him.

Only it did.

Molly left him alone, thumping back to her bedroom and slamming the door behind her. Left to his own devices, Jackson manoeuvred the froghouse legs into position and started tightening screws. It was a fiddly job and required concentration.

And concentration was what he didn’t have.

Had he started a relationship by kissing Molly?

The question didn’t arise, he thought. Or it hadn’t until now.

So what had happened?

Very little, he told himself. Molly was a beautiful and desirable woman. They’d shared a wonderful day. It had seemed right at the time so he’d kissed her. As simple as that.

Only it wasn’t.

Damn, it was how she made him feel…

He’d never felt this way before, he thought suddenly. He’d kissed many women but he hadn’t known he could feel like this.

Like what?

As if she needed defending and he wanted to be the one who did the defending. As if he wanted to share in watching these crazy frogs jump around their tank-as long as Molly was by his side to share in the watching.

As if he wanted to kiss her again…

That was the nub of the matter.

But since Diane relationships were off the cards. Except for Cara. And the relationship he had with his half-sister was, of course, completely different. She of all people understood why he’d vowed never to fall in love with anyone again-but Cara was in Switzerland now, living her own life. She wouldn’t appreciate him interfering in her affairs-playing the protective brother.

But if someone touched Molly…

The thought brought him up with a jolt. If he thought anyone was likely to lay a finger on Molly… Hurt her…

No. Not just hurt her.

It wasn’t only a feeling of protectiveness that was consuming him. It was the thought of anyone else…any man…looking at her with desire. Because she was…

Whew! Where were his thoughts taking him?

The stupid froghouse leg wouldn’t fit and he swore.

Get this tank up, get this lunch over and get out of here, he told himself harshly. You need to clear your head, and being around this woman-

You want to be around this woman, the other half of him argued.

You don’t.

He was so confused. All he knew was that he made a very bad liar. He couldn’t even lie to himself.

And Molly?

She was dressing herself in the most severe outfit she owned. Black, black and more black. And no make-up. Not a scrap.

What was she doing? She dressed and then stared into the mirror for a very long time.

‘Anyone would think you were scared of Jackson Baird,’ she told her reflection, and stared for a while longer.

Finally she gave a little nod and the corners of her mouth twitched into a grimace.

‘Anyone would be exactly right.’

There was the small matter of completing the froghouse, but they’d run out of time.

‘I think I must need a different sort of screwdriver,’ Jackson confessed. ‘These plans look like they’re written in Swahili.’ Then he checked out Molly’s black trousers, black jacket and black shoes and his frown deepened in disapproval. ‘Plus I was hoping for someone to help me lift it into place, but the only thing you look like lifting is a coffin.’ His eyes raked her from head to toe, disapproval growing by the minute. ‘I’ve seen pallbearers look more cheerful than you.’

She hmmphed at that. ‘I’m dressed for business.’

‘And the fact that I need a lift to get this tank on its legs…’

‘Your four legs aren’t together yet,’ she pointed out. ‘Plus I need time to think about where to put it. It can’t stay in front of the television.’

‘What about in front of the bar? Will that be a problem?’

She managed a sort-of smile. Her head was aching from the night before, she was confused and tired, and the last thing she wanted to be thinking about was the bar. Or its contents. ‘Only if Angela breaks up with another fiancé,’ she said ruefully, and he smiled in sympathy.

‘Not a big drinker, then, Miss Farr?’

‘The bar’s hardly been touched since my brother-in-law’s death,’ she told him, and then wished she hadn’t as his eyes warmed with still more sympathy. The last thing she needed from this man was sympathy.

She didn’t need anything from him at all.

But he was still in sympathy mode. ‘You haven’t thought of ripping the bar out? Of changing the apartment so it’s more yours and Sam’s rather than Sam’s parents’?’

She thought that through but didn’t understand. ‘The froghouse is doing that.’

‘No.’ He considered, but he knew he was right. ‘Sam’s belongings may well have arrived when his parents were alive.’ He let his gaze drift around the place, taking it in. ‘All the photos here are of his parents and of Sam’s life before their death. All the personal stuff. There’s not a lot of Molly Farr in this place at all.’

‘It’s Sam’s home.’

‘It’s your home, too.’

‘Sam needs memories of his parents.’ She bit her lip. ‘Heaven knows they’ll fade soon enough.’

‘It’s natural that they should,’ he said gently. He crossed to a shelf where a row of trophies stood. Golf trophies and netball trophies and sailing trophies and junior chess tournament certificates. ‘There’s a whole family’s achievements here-but where are yours?’

‘I don’t count.’

‘You do count.’ He frowned. ‘For Sam, you count very much. When you were a kid what were you winning?’

‘Not much.’

‘Cow-riding competitions?’

That brought a reluctant chuckle. ‘I wouldn’t think so.’

‘Then what?’

‘Nothing.’ She met his gaze and held it, but still his eyes probed. ‘We’re going to be late for lunch.’

‘No. We have time. What?’

‘I didn’t…’

‘There must be something. Some memory of childhood that means a lot to you? Something you achieved?’

She sighed and let herself think about it. ‘I guess-knots?’

‘Knots?’ Whatever he’d been expecting it wasn’t that.

‘I talked my way into joining the boy scouts,’ she told him. ‘My first merit certificate was in knots and I caught the bug.’ Her voice tailed off. Surely he couldn’t be interested.

But it seemed he was. He was fascinated. A junior Molly as a Boy Scout. The idea was fascinating. He could see her now… ‘So then what happened?’

‘You don’t want to know.’

‘Try me.’

She hesitated, and then shrugged. Why not? It was ridiculous, but the man was a client, she told herself. So she should treat him as a client. It was her job to keep him happy. Up to a point.

‘Just a minute, then.’ And a moment later she was scrambling around the back of her wardrobe. Her personal stuff was shoved behind suitcases, abandoned to neglect-as she’d abandoned her old life.

If he was really interested… Frame after frame was stacked neatly in the dark. She lifted the top three and carried them out.

Here were her knots.

Every knot she knew was represented in these frames. She’d tied them with care, with love and with increasing skill. Here were farm knots, shipping knots, plainly functional knots and fancy decorative ones. Every conceivable way to join two pieces of rope was displayed in these frames. They were labelled with names and often had a tiny history written underneath. She’d started her frames when she was nine years old and the last knot had been tied two weeks before her sister died.

They were part of the Molly that was.

She carried them out and handed them over to Jackson in silence-and why it felt as if she was handing over a piece of herself she didn’t know. He took them from her and stared down at them for a long, long time. His eyes took in the care, the love and the knowledge.

‘These are fantastic,’ he told her, and she flushed.

‘Yes, but they’re part of a past life.’

‘They’re part of you, and Sam should see that.’ He lifted the top one and set it up carefully behind the netball trophies. ‘They should be hung. You should have a feature wall of them.’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t want to make Sam’s life different.’

‘Sam’s life is different.’

‘Not any more than I can help.’

He stood looking down at her for a moment, and then the corners of his mouth twitched into a smile that was almost self-mocking.

‘You’re quite a woman.’

That was a good one. ‘Yeah. And you’re quite a man. But now we need to go to lunch.’

‘So we do,’ he said slowly, but the way he was speaking made her think it wasn’t just lunch he was thinking of. ‘So we do.’

Hannah Copeland was a bright little sparrow of a woman. She was knotted with age and arthritis but her eyes were still alive with intelligence. She met them in one of Sydney’s most exclusive restaurants and proceeded to treat the place-and the staff-as if she owned it.

‘We’re in my usual alcove,’ she told them. ‘I come here every Monday, regardless. It’s my personal contribution to improving the world’s economy.’

‘Very generous,’ Molly said, and she chuckled.

‘That’s what I think, dear.’ She peered up at Jackson. ‘And you? You’re as wealthy as Croesus. What do you do to contribute to the world’s fast lane?’

‘Buy expensive farms?’ he said, and her lined face lit with laughter.

‘Very good.’ Her keen eyes narrowed. ‘But I don’t believe in sleeping money. Will you keep my farm running as it should be run? You don’t just want it as a tax dodge, I hope?’

‘It’d be a very expensive tax dodge,’ Jackson told her, helping her into her seat with care.

‘You never know these days.’ She settled herself down and surveyed her guest with complacency. ‘Isn’t this nice?’ Then she peered more closely at Molly and at her dour outfit. ‘You’re not in mourning are you, dear?’

‘She’s in business,’ Jackson said dryly.

‘And you don’t mix business with pleasure?’

‘Never,’ Molly told them. She lifted the menu, looked at the prices and gulped. She was way out of her league here. And…mixing business with pleasure? Did that mean she couldn’t savour this extraordinary selection?

‘Did you have a nice time at my farm?’ Hannah asked, and Molly smiled. That at least was easy.

‘Yes, thank you.’

‘Doreen tells me the three of you got on like a house on fire. You and Jackson and the little boy.’

‘There’s no relationship,’ Molly told her hastily. ‘I only met Jackson on Friday.’

‘But you like each other?’

‘We like each other,’ Jackson said, and Molly stifled a protest. Okay. For the duration-and for the sale-they liked each other.

There was a lull while they ordered. Molly thought of what she was eating in terms of how many normal meals she could buy and was silently having kittens-but she didn’t let on.

Hannah was still concentrating on Jackson when the entrees arrived, which was just as well. It let Molly concentrate on food. She intended to savour every gorgeous mouthful. Then…

‘You’re engaged?’ Hannah demanded of Jackson, and he frowned while Molly forgot all about concentrating on food.

‘Where did you hear that?’

‘I read my papers, dear. Tell me about your Cara.’

The frown stayed. ‘She’s not my Cara.’

‘So you’re not engaged?’

‘No,’ he said flatly, and Molly dropped her knife.

‘You’re kidding!’ she managed.

‘I’m not kidding,’ he told her, and smiled-and she dropped her knife all over again.

‘I thought…’

‘Cara and I are happy as we are,’ he told Hannah, and Hannah blinked and then speared a prawn as if it was an enemy.

‘I don’t approve of that kind of relationship,’ she said. ‘I like marriages.’

‘In my world marriages seldom last long.’

‘Promises last,’ she snapped. ‘If you mean them. Have you made this Cara any promises?’

He concentrated on his food for a little. It was well worth concentrating on, Molly thought. Their prawns were coated in some sort of tempura batter, tasting vaguely of coconut and served with a dipping sauce of chilli and lime. The prawns tasted as if they’d been out of the sea all of two minutes. But still Jackson had all her attention. ‘I think my relationships are my business,’ he said eventually.

‘I want my farm to go to good hands.’

‘I understand that.’

‘I don’t need to sell.’

‘I understand that, too.’

Whoops, thought Molly. There goes Trevor’s commission. If he was here he’d have a heart attack.

‘Miss Copeland,’ she said carefully, feeling as if she was treading through minefields, ‘you did say that there were only two conditions.’

‘Did I say that?’ Another prawn was speared and the old lady popped it into her mouth and glared at the two of them. ‘Then I’ve changed my mind. I’m not signing this afternoon.’

‘Can I ask why not?’ Jackson was courtesy itself. He obviously didn’t have to face Trevor, Molly thought. Uh, oh.

But Hannah was concentrating on the pair who’d own her farm. ‘I want to meet this Cara.’

‘It’s me who’s buying the farm,’ Jackson said bluntly. ‘Not Cara.’

‘But she’ll be living there,’ Hannah told him. ‘No?’

‘Yes. Eventually.’

‘And the papers say it’s Cara who’s interested in horses. My horses. My horses are included in the sale and I want to know who’s buying them.’

‘Fair enough.’ Jackson nodded. ‘But it’ll be three weeks before I’m back in the country again.’

‘And you’ll bring this Cara with you?’

‘If I can.’

‘Find out,’ the old lady snapped. ‘These modern arrangements…’ She snorted. She looked at Molly and her gimlet eyes bored right through her. ‘Are you engaged? Or married?’

‘Um…no.’

‘And you don’t have one of these fancy arrangements?’

‘No.’

‘But you do have your nephew. Doreen told me about him.’ A moment’s silence while she considered, then, ‘You’ll be needing a man, then. The boy needs a father.’

Molly gave a faint smile. ‘I think we can manage without.’ Her smile deepened. ‘Men are impossible.’

‘They are at that.’ But Hannah didn’t smile and her eyes didn’t leave Molly’s. ‘I never married. Didn’t see the point. Never met anyone who could make my heart slam against a brick wall. You ever met anyone like that?’

‘I…no.’

‘Liar,’ Hannah said without rancour. ‘I can read it in your face. You let everything out with a face like that.’

‘Really?’

‘Really. Some man has treated you like dirt. Am I right?’

‘Hey, I’m not even buying your farm,’ Molly told her.

‘So mind my own business?’ The old lady grinned. ‘You get as old as I am without a family to concern you and the world’s your business. You have a good heart, girl.’ She looked more closely at Molly. ‘This man here hasn’t been messing with it, has he?’

‘No!’ Molly practically yelled. A hush had chosen just that moment to fall over the restaurant and her ‘No’ echoed out over the other diners. Heads turned. She blushed. ‘Do you think we can get back to business?’

‘No,’ Hannah told her cheerfully. ‘This lunch isn’t about business. It’s all about getting to know you.’

‘Getting to know Jackson,’ Molly corrected her, and Hannah sighed and smiled.

‘Maybe. I haven’t made my mind up yet.’

‘Are you getting cold feet?’

With the main course over, Hannah took herself to the powder room, leaving Molly and Jackson together. To her surprise Jackson had decided to be cheerful about the inquisition. He’d answered Hannah’s questions about his background, and more and more Molly found he was turning the tables on the old lady. Hannah had ended up talking about herself, and her love of her farm shone through.

‘I’m not getting cold feet,’ he told her. ‘The more I hear about the farm the more I want it.’

‘You know, I’d be surprised if Hannah lets go entirely. Doreen and Gregor may not be the only elderly retainers you’re left with.’

‘You think Hannah will visit?’

‘If you make her welcome.’

Silence while he thought about it. Was he thinking he’d hate it-or that Cara would hate it? Molly didn’t know. His face was impassive.

A shiver ran through her. He saw it and was instantly concerned. ‘Cold?’

‘No.’ She shrugged. ‘Nothing. A ghost walked over my grave.’

‘Something’s worrying you?’

‘No.’ But his concern made her want to shiver all over again. She did feel cold. Forlorn. Bereft. Which was utterly ridiculous.

Hadn’t she sworn off all men for ever? So why did this man have the power to unnerve her?

‘Molly…’ He held out a hand across the table to her and she stared down at it. It was a gesture of comfort-nothing more. She should reach out to take it.

She couldn’t. She sat and stared at the hand. His eyes met hers and held, but there was a message there that neither wanted to read. Or neither was brave enough to read. Slowly he withdrew his hand, and very carefully she tucked both her hands safely under the table.

‘Thank you, but, no,’ she said, and he hardly knew what she was refusing. Or did he?

Hell, he was in deep water here, and he hadn’t even realised he’d been sliding right out of his depth.

The tension was broken by a yell.

‘Molly!’ The yell came from the far side of the restaurant. Molly swung around to find Hannah returning to their table-and Angela waving furiously from the restaurant entrance. Half the restaurant had swivelled to see.

Angela was still wearing her mini-skirt from this morning and her crazy stilettos, but she’d added Guy’s pinstripe jacket for warmth. Her blonde curls were still tousled from sleep, she was waving wildly across at her friend and she looked like someone who’d come straight from a welfare sale.

Dear heaven…

This was never, ever going to be a professional sale, Molly thought despairingly, and closed her eyes-just for a millisecond-just to find enough courage to open them again. When she did, Jackson and Hannah were staring in open-mouthed astonishment at the vision weaving her way through the tables.

Angela was talking full throttle before she reached them. ‘Molly, you’ll never guess what’s happened!’

‘Don’t tell me. Your wardrobe’s been eaten by silverfish and you’ve lost every hairbrush you own.’ Molly groaned. ‘Angela, for heaven’s sake-’

‘Where’s Guy?’ Angela was hardly listening. ‘Oh, heck, I’ve left him behind.’ She searched backwards and found who she was looking for. Another cheery wave across the restaurant ‘Guy. They’re over here!’

Apart from his jacket Guy, thankfully, was staidly dressed, but it was a different Guy from the Guy they’d seen two hours ago. His beam was wide enough to split his face as he came up behind Angela.

‘Great. I knew we’d find them here. I’ve heard on the grapevine Miss Copeland almost single-handedly keeps this restaurant afloat.’

‘You’re so clever.’ As he arrived at the table Angela gave him a hug, and Guy hugged her right back. Molly could only stare. This time last week Guy would have been mortified to see Angela looking like this. This Guy seemed not even to notice

‘We came to fetch Angela’s keys,’ Guy said, and Molly blinked. But at least she knew what was wanted.

‘You left the keys on the sideboard at Molly’s place,’ Jackson said blandly, and Guy groaned.

‘You didn’t think to bring them with you to lunch?’

Jackson’s blandness cracked, just a little, and there was a trace of laughter on his voice. ‘We…er…we didn’t think you’d come after us.’ He swallowed his laughter. ‘Miss Copeland, may I introduce Angela and Guy? Angela is another realtor, who works with Molly, and Guy is her…’ He hesitated.

‘Her fiancé,’ Angela finished for him proudly, and beamed and beamed. She thrust out her ring finger and the diamond sparkled in all its glory. ‘I wasn’t for a while, but now I am again and this time it’s for ever. Guy might have forgotten the keys but he didn’t forget my ring.’

Molly cast a sideways glance at Hannah and found her beaming to match Angela. ‘At last,’ the old lady approved. ‘A proper relationship. You don’t want to buy my farm, do you, dears?’

‘For three million?’ Guy grinned and held his love tight. ‘Sorry. No chance.’

‘You know, realtors wear the strangest clothes,’ Hannah said, perusing Angela from head to toe and wrinkling her already wrinkled nose. ‘One dresses for a funeral and the other dresses for…’

‘For passion,’ Angela said promptly, and giggled again. And then she explained. ‘Guy arrived with a bus,’ she told Molly. ‘A whole bus.’ She hugged her beloved, who was turning a delicate shade of gratified pink. ‘There was a florist just near the school, where he dropped Sam. He said there wasn’t room in his car for all his flowers and there were kids lining up for a school excursion. So he made a practically obscene donation to their literacy programme-plus he shouted them all ice cream cones-on condition that they detoured past my place. He gave every kid on the bus a bunch of roses and they came up the fire stairs to deliver them.’

‘Good grief!’ Molly’s eyes flew to Guy, whose pink was turning fast to crimson. Wow! The man had improvised on her suggestion and then some. She hadn’t known he had it in him.

‘I was standing on the landing with a really angry taxi driver, because I’d left my handbag at your place, and all these kids filed up and handed me their roses one after another. Then Guy got down on bended knee and asked me to marry him-and the kids were watching and cheering… What was a girl to do?’

‘How…how special,’ Molly said, and Angela beamed some more.

‘It is.’ She turned to Hannah, moving right on. ‘So you’re Miss Copeland.’ She held out her hand in greeting. ‘How do you do? Are you trying to shake some sense into these two?’

‘Sense?’ Hannah sounded totally bemused.

‘These two are made for each other,’ Angela declared. ‘But he’s engaged to this other woman-’

‘Angela!’ Molly was on her feet, enraged. ‘You’re way out of line!’

‘He’s not engaged,’ Hannah said, and Molly thought, Please let the ground open up under me. Please let this be a nightmare.

‘He’s not?’ Angela was brought up short. She focused on Jackson. ‘You mean the woman in the newspaper is not your fiancée?’

He gave a wry smile-but he was watching Molly. What had Angela said? These two are made for each other… ‘Um…no.’

‘Thank heaven for that,’ Angela said bluntly. ‘Marry Molly.’

‘Angela!’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake…’ Jackson was half-laughing, half-exasperated, but Molly was no such thing. She was just plain appalled.

But Hannah was listening intently. ‘Do you think he should?’

‘Yes,’ Angie said promptly, and hugged her Guy close. ‘She should be as happy as I am.’

‘He’s never going to marry her if she wears funeral clothes,’ Hannah said, and Molly took a deep breath.

‘Excuse me!’

She was ignored. ‘She doesn’t usually wear black,’ Angela explained. ‘She usually looks gorgeous. Only her sister and brother-in-law were killed and she has to look after her little nephew-who’s a real sweetie, but she feels totally responsible. She and her fiancé were saving for a house, but when Molly said she had to look after Sam the creep told her the wedding was off. And he had the whole deposit in his name-which is why the first rule of buying a house is don’t trust anybody-and don’t ask me why Molly trusted the creep, but there it is, and now he’s got her money and she has nothing. And then…’ She took her first breath for about three minutes and it was a long one. ‘Along comes Jackson.’

‘Jackson,’ Hannah repeated faintly, and Angela pounced.

‘She’s nutty about him,’ Angela declared, and Molly felt herself sliding under the table. She held onto the edge and managed to stay upright, but it was a near thing. ‘And he kissed her.’

She’s nutty about him… Jackson turned to stare at Molly’s blenched white face. Put that on the backburner, his brain told him. Concentrate on practicalities. ‘How many people know that I kissed you?’ he demanded, and Hannah chortled and answered for her.

‘The entire restaurant, at least.’ It wasn’t an understatement. The whole restaurant had hushed to a deathly silence and Angela had the floor.

‘Anyway, it’s true.’ Angela flushed slightly and sounded defensive, but still she continued. ‘Molly came home after the weekend lit up like a Christmas candle, and it’s the nicest thing that’s happened to her since the loathsome Michael. And now there’s this stupid newspaper article.’ Her eyes narrowed on Jackson. ‘But you’re not engaged?’

‘No! And I don’t believe the paper did say I was engaged.’

‘Then this Cara-’

‘Is none of your business.’ Jackson closed his eyes for a brief respite and then he rose. With resolution. Things were getting entirely out of hand and he wanted time to think.

‘I need to go. Miss Copeland, if you’re not prepared to sell me the property-’

‘Oh, I am.’ Hannah’s eyes were alight with laughter. ‘But not just yet.’

‘I don’t like being messed with.’ He wasn’t looking at Molly as he said it.

‘Neither do I, dear.’ Their eyes locked and Molly thought, She’s as astute at business dealings as he is.

‘Then what?’

‘You’re coming back from overseas in three weeks?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then I’ll sign in three weeks,’ she told him. ‘Down at the farm. After I’ve met this Cara.’

‘I…’

‘That or nothing,’ she told him. ‘You do want to buy the property, don’t you?’

He did. They could all see it. Part of him wanted to walk away from this deal-walk away from these crazy lady realtors and from emotions he didn’t know how to handle. The other part knew he was getting a never-to-be-repeated bargain. The farm was indeed wonderful.

Common sense won. ‘Yes,’ he snapped. ‘But I’ll deal through my lawyer and no one else.’

Hannah nodded. ‘But you and Cara will be there in person in three weeks-and I’ll deal through Miss Farr and no one else.’

‘I’m not going back to the farm,’ Molly wailed, and the attention of the entire group swivelled to her. The attention of the entire restaurant swivelled to her.

‘Of course you’re going,’ Hannah told her.

‘And there’s the little matter of releasing Sam’s frog,’ Angela added. ‘What better reason to make another trip?’

That was enough to sidetrack Guy, if no one else. ‘You’re building a Taj Mahal of a froghouse and you’re going to let the frog go?’ Guy was incredulous.

‘They won’t breed in captivity.’ Molly was distracted past the point where anything was making sense. She was grasping at straws.

‘And breeding’s important,’ Hannah approved. ‘Mating. Relationships. The whole gamut of-’

‘Of frog life?’ Jackson was standing gazing at the lot of them. ‘I see.’ He shook his head. ‘Enough. I’m off.’

‘Me, too,’ Molly said, and picked up her handbag and headed for the door.

‘You’ll both be at the farm on Saturday three weeks from now?’ Hannah demanded after he and Molly paused.

There was a long silence.

If she didn’t go she wouldn’t have a job, Molly thought.

And Jackson thought if he didn’t go he wouldn’t have the farm he so badly wanted.

‘Yes,’ said Molly.

‘Fine,’ said Jackson.

‘Excellent,’ Hannah told them both. ‘And now I suggest we all settle down and have sweets. The lemon tart here has to be eaten to be believed.’

‘I believe I’ve had enough,’ Jackson retorted. His eyes swung to Angela. ‘Tarts and all.’ And he walked out through the door as if he was being shot from a cannon.