Sparking the Fire (28 page)

Hell, damnation, and a deep, deep breath. “We, uh,
might
have met a few years ago before I moved to LA.”

Everyone not named Molly leaned forward.

“It was nothing, really.”

Leaning at a forty-five-degree angle now.

“It was just a fling.” Each admission spiked Molly's voice a couple of panicked octaves. “We hooked up in a hotel bar and had anonymous sex for a week,” she finished on a breathy gush.

Three things happened simultaneously. Kinsey stood, swayed, and pointed like a deranged Marcel Marceau. Darcy clutched a hand to her throat, expecting to find . . . pearls? Alex knocked over an empty wineglass. They all screamed.

The condo's buzzer sounded. They screamed again.

Darcy wagged a menacing finger in Molly's direction. “Do not, I repeat, do not reveal anything about anything while I am out of the room.”

Alex shuddered. “Maybe
I
should be out of the room. So don't want to hear about my brother's sexploits.”

Molly laughed nervously as Darcy raced out, evidently terrified some great reveal would emerge during her absence. She slapped her forehead. “He's going to kill me if he knows I blabbed. You know what's he's like. Mr. Secretive.”

“And look where that got him,” Kinsey said. “Luke's still pissed. You are in the Circle here and your filthy little fling will not leave the Circle.”

“Whose filthy little fling?” asked a new female voice. In walked a very sharply dressed woman sporting a Coco Chanel bob, a Dooney & Bourke purse, and vibes à la Anna Wintour.

“Molly and Wyatt had a dirty, no-names affair years ago before she hit the big time.”

“Kinsey!” Molly protested.

The cool blonde motioned dismissively to the new arrival. “This is Madison. She's the embodiment of the Circle.”

Molly recognized her now. Madison Maitland, owner of a prominent Chicago PR firm, Eli Cooper's former mayoral campaign manager—and his ex-wife. Who hung out at book club with his current fiancée? That was very . . . mature.

“Wyatt ‘Incredible Arms' Fox?” A suspiciously rapt expression relaxed Madison's angular features. “Bet it must have felt amazing to be carried in them. Pity I was passed out.”

A bolt of alarm shot through Molly, and she looked to the others for an explanation so she wouldn't be obliged to verbalize a request for same or go Hulkerina-Smash on Madison, who seemed to have a thing for Wyatt's incredible arms.

Alex saw Molly's face and grinned. “Cool yo jets, Crazy Eyes. Wyatt saved Madison's life in that hotel fire the same night I saved Eli's, before the bastard turned it around and saved me right back. He couldn't even give me that.”

Darcy frowned at Alex. “We're getting off topic.” As she poured a glass of wine for Madison, she said to Molly, “So you. Wyatt. All the sex, none of the names.”

Acutely aware of how awkward this was for his sister, never mind for Molly herself, she held up the hand of no. “It happened. We parted ways. No drama.”

“And now you've reconnected,” Kinsey said. “So if you're keeping it on the down low, where's all this hot lovin' happening? Must be tough with so many Dempseys clit-blocking you.”

Molly snagged her lip. “The backseat of the Camaro is surprisingly comfortable.”

“Fuck, no!”

“You're kidding!”

“Every teenage boy's wet dream!”

Molly was having a tough time suppressing her giggles. “Guys, I'm serious,” she said, though she couldn't keep a straight face. “Please don't tease him about it. Or even let on you know.” Protectiveness for this amazing man sucked at her chest like a greedy surf. She knew how much he valued his privacy, even among the people he was so close to.

Darcy sighed contentedly. “We'll keep quiet. God, I love a good second-chance romance, but then I'm biased.”

“She's our resident Disney queen,” Kinsey said. “She'll have you down the aisle by Labor Day.”

“So did anyone read the book?” Madison asked, only to be hushed by Darcy.

“Molly's about to compare current Wyatt with past Wyatt in the sack. And then both of them with her ex.”

Molly laughed. “Am not!” She made a lips-zipped motion with her fingers, though the comparison could be summed up with two words:
no contest
.

“Hmm,” Madison hummed with a long look at Molly.

“What?”

“Sounds like you deserve some fun after the year you've had.” It wasn't said to pry; Molly intuited understanding in those words.

“I've been trying to put all that behind me. The divorce, the photos. I want the product to reflect who I am going forward.”

Madison gave the slimmest of shrugs, took a sip of her wine, and remained silent. If that wasn't a challenge, Molly would eat every single one of those salted caramels. All serving sizes were wrong and stupid anyway.

“You don't think I handled it right.”

“I'm sure your PR people are the best,” she said with a diplomatic smile.

Kinsey's nod was wise. “That's Madison's way of saying ‘If you were my client . . .' ”

“I had a choice,” Molly said, feeling a tad defensive. “Letting it die down seemed like the best option for my mental health.”

“What happened to you,” Alex cut in, “was a sexual assault. Sorry, I know it's none of my business, but it makes me so fucking angry that people just laugh and ogle when an actual crime occurred here.”

Molly's heart thundered like a jet engine in her chest. “Once those pictures were out, there wasn't a whole lot I could do about it. After that, it's all damage control. I could choose either grace under pressure or whole-hog Xena Warrior Princess.” She'd chosen the former, though she really wanted to go bat shit suing everyone into the grave: the cloud service with its security flaws, the anonymous Russian hacker who started it all, the gossip sites that spread the infection.

But by not making a fuss, she wouldn't be perpetuating the problem.
Minimize, de-escalate, move on.
It would eventually go away and she could refocus on the work, on what mattered. But a part of her had died the moment those pictures went viral. Adventurous Molly. Trusting Molly. Though in truth, that woman was being slowly smothered by Ryan's toxicity. And then to find out that this man she had once loved was the author of all her pain.

Molly should have slapped Ryan with an open palm and a breach of privacy lawsuit the minute she heard about his involvement, but hell if she wanted to be the subject of more tawdry headlines.

“So many people had advice to give and most of it was about keeping my image sweet and pliant. Women who raise their voices in Hollywood are seen as difficult. Women who ask for equality in pay are seen as strident. Women who want are seen as bitches.”

Nods of recognition all around. These women got it, each of them fighting for respect every day in their professional and personal lives.

God, she missed Cal. But how lucky was she to have landed in this circle, temporary as it was? Emotion clogging her chest, she took another pull of her wine, only to find it gone. Alex immediately jumped in with the refill, though Molly would have kept talking even on an empty glass. Now that she had opened up, she was finding it hard to stop.

“I felt violated, sick, in denial, angry as a bee swarm. I also felt weak, helpless, and impotent. Making this movie as awesome as I can is the only thing I can do to reclaim who I was.” Losing herself in Wyatt Fox's strong arms, letting him shatter every inhibition and help rebuild her warrior heart—or the walls around it—was part of the cure, as well. But trusting her happiness to him or another man? Screw that.

“Throwing yourself into work?” Darcy asked.

“Yes, but more. Creating something that will stand the test of time, where I'll be remembered for being more than just a pair of tits or a big booty or the woman who made this exceptionally poor choice to allow her husband to take photos of her and keep them on his phone.”

“But that choice is only poor because of what happened,” Alex insisted. “You had every right to celebrate your body and take pride in how awesome you look by doing that. Yeah, maybe sharing it in a way that can never be deleted didn't turn out for the best, but why the hell should that choice be pissed on by the world?” She pointed a finger. “You should lay it out there,
Playboy
style. Show those haters you don't give a damn.”

“Yeah, Hugh Hefner the hell out of it,” Darcy said while everyone laughed.

Everyone but Madison.

Molly met her sharp blue gaze. “What do you think I should have done?”

“It doesn't matter now,” Madison said, swirling the wine in her glass. “You've moved on.”

Had she? Yes, she was making her comeback movie and running the show, but those pictures haunted her with their grainy, soft-porn focus and her corn-fed innocence sullied by every subsequent meme.

Madison seemed to pick up on Molly's ambivalence. “But if I had been advising you, I would have set up a photo shoot.”

“
Playboy!
” From a drunker-by-the-second Alex.

“
Vanity Fair,
” Madison said. “Seminude, tasteful, classic poses exhibiting strength and pride. You control the message and the message is—”

“This is
my
body,” Molly said. “And it's beautiful.”

Satisfaction that Molly understood blazed in Madison's eyes, and a sharp flare of regret pulsed through Molly that she immediately tamped down. It was too late now, no use living in the what-ifs and if-onlys of the past. It was time to put it behind her and focus on the present. Make a great movie, embrace the new and slightly improved Molly, and enjoy all the hot lovin' with her sexy pirate.

•   •   •

HollywoodBooty:
I'm hungry.

ThighTickler:
My poorly stocked kitchen is yours to command.

HollywoodBooty:
I want pregnant.

ThighTickler:
Uh . . .

HollywoodBooty:
PRINGLES!!! I WANT PRINGLES!

ThighTickler:

HollywoodBooty:
Blame autocorrect. And wine. Lovely wine.

Wyatt laughed, the sound strange in the echo of his empty kitchen, where he'd been sitting with a cup of steaming coffee—keeping a firefighter's schedule, caffeine had ceased to affect his sleep cycle a long time ago—and brooding over his recalcitrant niece, who was still insisting on pushing him to the margins of her life. Roni was sleeping upstairs, but it still didn't feel like she was living here. She spent more time out of the house than in, hanging with his brothers and sister.

Suffer patiently and patiently suffer.

Molly's next text came in before he could respond:
Meet me in the garage, big guy. Bring the goods.

A Hollywood booty call. Three minutes ago, he'd watched her wobble to the front door, scream “You ladies rawk!” at Darcy's car (containing one lady in total), and stumble into Gage's. He had planned to stop by and make sure she didn't pass out on the stairs when her diva demands to be fed came in. No Pringles in the cupboard—Gage and Roni had taken to shopping together and she was more of a Cheetos girl—but there was a bag of Lays.

Very appropriate.

He grabbed the chips and a bottle of water, and headed out to the alley. Cicadas trilled the humid August air, competing with the tinny sound of a radio playing Mexican pop further on down the alley.

Molly stood—correction, slumped—against the garage door, one sandaled foot raised behind her. In her cute jean shorts and a low-cut top that barely contained her everything, she looked like a slice of Americana on a hot summer night.

“Hey, Marine.”

“Hey, Hollywood.”

“Good boy,” she purred on spying the chips in his hand. “I'm pissed at you, by the way, but I want salt and sex, in that order, so I'm willing to put that aside for now.” With a lusty giggle, she grabbed the bag, ripping it open on her way into the garage. Chips scattered in her wake.

Frowning, he followed. “Do I want to know what's got you mad at me, but not quite mad enough to stop you from using me for your salty-sexy needs?”

“I was reminded tonight of how bossy you are.” Turning, she poked his chest with a potato chip. Predictably, it crumbled, yet she stared at it in rather adorable puzzlement. “How bossy all men are.”

A special circle in hell existed for whoever had invented book clubs.

“So, taking you had a good night?”

“Positively
clit
-rary. Women talking about books and empowerment and important stuff.”

“Baby, you're trashed.”

“And it's your lucky day, buster.”

Every day since the moment she'd walked back into his life had been his lucky day. Framing her face with his hands, he kissed her slow, sweet, deep, and wet. She tasted of wine and want and the woman he was a little bit crazy about.