Molly Matthews Meddles in Marriage (5 page)

“Would you like some of mine?”

“No thanks.” Her refusal was unconvincing as he saw her eyes flitter with longing over the heaped spoonful of chocolate mousse he held in his fingers.

“Go on.” He leaned across, lifting the spoon to her lips, his gaze fixed hard upon hers. Her mouth parted, accepting his offering, and he watched transfixed as her tongue deftly swept over her lips, sending a sharp jolt of heat through his body.

“Mmm, delicious,” she murmured.

His thoughts exactly.

The waiter slipped the bill on to the edge of the table and Rory laid his hand on it.

“Absolutely not.” Molly reached across, their hands touching fleetingly as she staked her claim. “Therapy may not be part of my service, but this definitely is.”

“I’ve never allowed a woman to buy me dinner before. And I’m not about to start now. It was my idea. My treat.” He smoothly handed his payment card over to the waiter.

“Well, thank you very much, Rory. It’s been a lovely evening.”

The maître d’ appeared with their jackets and they stood to leave.

“Oh, I don’t know if I mentioned it, Molly, but there is something of a time issue on this project. In two months I will be attending the premiere of my new film. Ideally, I’d like my new fiancée to come with me.”

She turned sharply to look at him, her brown eyes blazing with accusation.

“Good evening, Mr. Campbell. Ms. Matthews.” The maître d’ ushered them out through the doorway.

Definitely
, thought Rory, deflecting her stony expression with a smile. It had to be brown eyes all the way.

Chapter Three

“Are you kidding me?” Outside, Molly belted her jacket, bracing herself against the unexpected autumnal wind. The flimsy cotton material was woefully inadequate for the sudden drop in temperature. She shivered, digging her hands as far into the shallow pockets as they would allow. “Two months?” she repeated. “I’m a marriage broker. Not a miracle worker!”

“Oh, for goodness sake! Look at you. You’re freezing. Here, take my coat.”

“No…” Too late. Before she could protest, Rory had slipped out of his jacket and placed it around her shoulders. For half of a nanosecond she thought about refusing his offer, but as soon as she felt the softness of the heavy moleskin, the encompassing warmth and the scent—his scent, earthy and musky and hugely seductive—she couldn’t imagine ever wanting to give it back.

“Thank you,” she muttered, her teeth chattering.

“Let’s go this way.” Rory put a guiding arm around her waist. “More chance of picking up a taxi from the main road.”

It wasn’t a part of London she was familiar with so she was happy for Rory to take the lead. They walked at a brisk pace under the diffused lighting of the streetlamps, looking for the entire world like any other couple.

“The thing is,” she started, as they paused for breath at a busy crossroads, Rory checking into the distance for any approaching taxis. “You can’t put a timescale on these things. Especially not one as short as that. It could take several months before you meet that special person. One of my clients who only recently got married was on my books for two and a half years before he met his bride.”

“Really? What was wrong with him? A personal hygiene problem? Serial killer tendencies?”

Molly looked up at Rory, seeing the flash of mischievousness in his eyes, the curling of the corner of his mouth revealing that cute and distinctive Campbell dimple.

“No! Of course not.” She couldn’t help smiling. “He was a real catch, I’ll have you know. I’m just demonstrating the fact that you can’t hurry these things. The right person is definitely worth waiting for.”

“Molly, I really don’t want this turning into a long, drawn-out project. It’s two months until the premiere, surely you’d be able to find me a prospective partner in that length of time?”

He took her arm as they crossed the busy main carriageway, dodging the flow of traffic.

Is that how he viewed it? As a project? Rory had definite ideas about what he wanted from his partner, but not once had she heard him mention anything beyond meeting his potential bride and whisking her off to some fancy film premiere. All in the space of a couple of months. Where was his sense of anticipation, the excitement, a passion for what was to come? Most of her clients spoke about finding their soul mate and falling in love. Rory had never even uttered the L word.

“Well, I’ll see what I can do, but I’m a marriage broker, not an escort agency.”

And however much she needed to keep Rory’s requirements in mind, she had other clients to consider, the women she’d be putting Rory in touch with. She needed to make sure their interests were protected too. Rory was the most eligible man to have walked through her doors. And could break hearts in an instant, she felt sure. She wouldn’t let that happen under her watch.

“But I’m relying on you, Molly. I’ve been told you’re the best in your business. You won’t let me down, will you?” The mischievous glint in his eye, the humor in his voice told her he was teasing, but his challenge kindled a fire within her.

Her cheeks tingled with cold and her breath escaped in short bursts in front of her.

“It’s not like buying a new house or car. You can’t walk into the showroom, see something you fancy and then take it home with you. And expect to have many happy years together. There’s a bit more to it than that.”

He grabbed her by the wrist and spun her round to face him. They stood a hair’s breath away from each other, the proximity of his face, the closeness of his wide, generous lips sending a surge of longing through her body.

“It’s exactly like that.” His dark eyes raged like a growling sea. “As soon as you walk into a house, you know instantly if you could live there. It’s an instinct. It’s the same with a car, you sit inside and think this is the motor for me. When you meet that special someone for the first time, it’s the same thing. You know immediately they’re the one.” He dropped his gaze, laughing, his expression softening. “I’m surprised you don’t know that, you being the expert and everything.”

She turned her face away, looking into the distance, to gain some space from the intensity of his overwhelming physical presence.

“Sometimes, if you’re lucky, it happens like that. But not always. Or else I wouldn’t have a business.” She deliberately kept her tone light. “If you’re serious about this, Rory, then I’ll need your full cooperation. And that means coming along to our next networking event. Despite what you might think, I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself.”

Rory raised a doubtful eyebrow and Molly frowned.

“Look, I won’t be able to help you if you’re not prepared to meet me halfway. It’s a dinner date evening for forty people at the most. Very intimate and discreet. We mingle over drinks and then sit down to an informal four-course supper. The women change places between courses. That way you get to spend time with as many potential matches as possible. You’ll love it. I’d like you to come along to our next one, on Tuesday.”

“If I promise to come, will you promise to find me my bride in time for my premiere?”

“I can’t make promises like that, Rory, but I’ll do my absolute best. And if I can’t find you a partner for the premiere, Mr. Impossible, I’ll go with you myself! How about that?”

“Really?” He gave her the benefit of that soul-searching stare again. “Well, Molly Matthews, you have yourself a deal!”

Really, Rory could think of nothing worse. Having to endure an evening with a whole bunch of strangers, making small talk, wasn’t his idea of fun. Particularly when they’d be overawed by having a well-known actor in their midst. It was a pain in the arse, but that’s the way it was. They’d giggle and blush and ask about his films and who he’d worked with and generally be overbearingly nice to him. And in those circumstances he was expected to be charming and attentive and pick out his future bride? It was too much to ask of him.

Only Molly had asked, and looking into those plaintive brown eyes, he found her almost impossible to resist.

He’d almost lost it there in that moment, lost himself in those eyes, in the depth of his attraction for her, which had thundered into him like a juggernaut. The intensity of emotion he felt for this quirky, uptight woman had poleaxed him. He’d gone off on a tangent and started talking about love at first sight. Ha! The very thing he was trying to avoid by coming to the bureau. His parents had fallen in love at first sight. And look what it had done to them.

“Come on, let’s get you home before you half freeze to death.”

He wished she wouldn’t look up at him like that. Her lovely red hair, which had been twisted neatly in a bun, was now on an escape mission, darting off at all different angles. Her cheeks were flushed red from the cold. The only thing he wanted at the moment was to take her in his arms and pull her little shivering body into his embrace.

“Don’t worry, I can make my own way from here, thanks.”

“No, you won’t. I’ll take you.” His eyes narrowed as he stared off into the distance, his foot anxiously tapping the ground. “Oh crap, I thought so! Come on, Molly, this way.”

He grabbed her by the hand and took off, dashing down a side street. Molly was swept along behind him, grateful that she’d chosen to wear flatties after all.

“Hey, wait a minute, where are we going? What’s the matter?”

“Pappz!”

“What?” She leaned forward, straining to hear him.

“Pappz. In the doorway.”

Molly let go of his hand, stopped in her tracks, stuck a fist on her hip and confronted him.

“What the hell is pappz?”

He shook his head and laughed.

“Paparazzi. Click. Click.” He held up his hands, mimicking a camera action. “That’s the last thing we need, our photos splashed across the press. Come on, get a move on, there’s a shortcut this way.”

They ran on some more before stopping in a darkened cobbled alleyway. She really needed to get back to the gym sometime soon. Breathing heavily, she bent over, resting her hands on her thighs, and looked up at Rory.

“Honestly, I don’t see what the problem is. So what if they took our pictures? It’s hardly the scoop of the decade, a photo of you and me walking down the street.”

“Trust me, that would just be the start of it. Then they’d add a salacious headline,
‘Rory Campbell shares intimate dinner date with sexy redhead.’
Then you’d have journalists trying to uncover who you are, what you do for a living, who you’ve slept with, what you’ve had for breakfast, that kind of thing. If they found out you run an upmarket dating agency, they’d have a field day with it. That kind of story could run for months and months.”

“Right. I see.” Molly leaned her head back against the brick wall, gasping for air. Rory stood over her, his arm resting above her head, the other hand resting on his waist. He was so close she could see the trace of stubble on his jawline, feel his breath as he spoke and inhale the deliciously seductive aroma of his skin. He was so close she could have kissed him. If she’d wanted to. And, at that moment, she wanted nothing more. If she hadn’t been standing against the wall, her legs may well have buckled beneath her. Her eyes closed briefly before she took a grip.

“Actually it’s not a dating agency. We have to be very clear on that. It’s a marriage bureau. Big difference.”

Rory grimaced, but his dark lively eyes were smiling.

“Yeah, whatever you say, but you get the point I’m trying to make.”

She nodded, but she wasn’t sure she got the point at all. She was far too distracted by the proximity of Rory and the temptation to reach out and touch him. It would be so easy, so enticing, so entirely wrong. Alone in a dark alley with her very own screen hero and an international heartthrob to boot. How many women could say they’d been in that situation? Was it any wonder her mind was delving into the realms of fantasy? She gulped, their last conversation whirling around her brain, his words replaying in her ears, teasing her. Had he really called her sexy? Yes, a
sexy redhead
to be precise, but she wasn’t remotely his type. And she should know. She was the expert in matching.

“Come on, we ought to go. It’s starting to rain. Hopefully, we’ve lost them by now.” He took hold of her hand and led her along the narrow pathway. “Just watch where you put your feet, the ground is uneven and it looks pretty slippery.” She did exactly as told, gingerly stepping on the cobbles, following Rory blindly as she hung on for dear life to his hand. He could have been trafficking her away to the slave trade for all that she minded.

The rain, though, was another matter. She minded that very much. A thunderclap sounded above, electrifying the sky. The light drizzle of a few moments ago quickly turned into relentless sheeting rain. Dampness seeped through her clothes, penetrating her bones. Water ran off the tip of her nose. She looked at Rory, feeling guilty at the sight of his sodden shirt and trousers clinging against his body.

“Let me give you your coat back,” she called after his departing figure.

“No, don’t worry. You might as well hang on to it now. Hurry up.” They emerged onto another main street. “Look, we can jump into this taxi here.”

They fell into the cab, depositing little pools of water onto the floor. Their eyes locked for a moment across the back of the cab and Molly promptly burst into laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation. Rory attempted to wipe down his clothes, but it was a fruitless task. He was sodden from head to toe and Molly hadn’t fared much better. She wiped away the rain from her face with the sleeve of his coat and ran her hands over her hair. The frizz had already taken up squatters’ rights.

“Sorry,” said Rory, holding out his arms in front of him and gently shaking them, watching droplets fall to the floor. “That turned into much more of an adventure than I anticipated.”

“Don’t worry. It was quite exciting, really. It’s the first time I’ve been chased by the Pappz.” She grinned, feeling ridiculous even to say such a thing. It was just as well she hadn’t worn a dress and heels. She looked bad enough as it was, but the wreckage in her glad rags could have been so much worse. “Probably the last time too. And it’s hardly your fault we got caught in a downpour. I just feel guilty that I had your coat. You’re absolutely soaked through.”