Molly Matthews Meddles in Marriage by Jill Steeples Page A

it.
    “Oh, come on,” said Pippa, interrupting her musing, “why else would he have invited you when he could have had the pick of any girl in London?”
    They were Molly’s thoughts exactly, but she wasn’t letting that on to Pippa.
    “I’m just helping him out of a hole, that’s all, and…”
    “Not a very dark hole by the sounds of things. More like a valley of sweet delights. Mmm mmm.”
    “Oh, do shut up, Pippa! He is our client and you know what they say, the client always comes first.”
    “Yeah right,” said Pippa. “What do you reckon, Aaron? Do you think the delectable Mr. Campbell has his eyes set on the main prize, our very own delectable Miss Matthews?”
    “I have no idea. But I do think you should be careful, Molly.” Aaron, who’d popped in for a coffee, was skulking in the corner chair, seemingly oblivious to all the excitement around him. “I don’t trust that Rory Campbell and I would hate for you to end up getting hurt.”
     
    * * * *
     
    “ How do I look? ” It was the day of the premiere and although Molly had been sitting at her desk pretending to work, all she ’ d managed to do was rearrange her paperclips into one hundred and one different intricate sculptures. When she could contain her excitement no longer, she ’ d jumped up and ditched her office uniform of black trousers and sensible jumper and replaced them with her favorite aquamarine dress and jacket—the one with the scalloped edges. She’d scrubbed her face clean of makeup, pinned her hair on top of her head and then decided the au naturel look would work better so simply scrunched her hair through her fingers to let the auburn curls hang naturally. Then she reapplied her makeup.
    “You look lovely, just lovely. Doesn’t she, Aaron?”
    “Yeah, great,” he said half-heartedly, barely looking up.
    “Hmm, thanks for the vote of confidence,” Molly sighed.
    “No, really, you look great,” he said, doing nothing to make her feel any better.
    The office only had the tiniest of mirrors, which was housed on the back of a cupboard door, and if she contorted her body first one way and then another, she could just about manage to get a full-length view of her image.
    “I look as though I’m going to a wedding.”
    Pippa laughed.
    “That’s because you’re wearing one of your only two wedding outfits. But that dress is a go-anywhere kind of dress.”
    That’s the trouble, thought Molly. It had been everywhere and back again several times over.
    “Oh, I don’t know. What if they’re all in full-length black strapless gowns, showing off perfectly toned shoulders? Everyone will think I’m someone’s mother.”
    “Well, there’s no time to worry about that now.” Pippa peered out of the window into the busy street below. “Your carriage awaits!”
    “Oh God,” Molly squealed, feeling uncharacteristically ill-prepared for what lay ahead.
    Her heart leaped as she heard Rory fling open the door downstairs and then take the stairs two at a time. She took a deep breath, anticipating his arrival, and then he was there, standing in the doorway to her office, dressed casually in jeans and a black fitted T-shirt, the ridges in his abs clearly defined beneath the clinging cotton fabric.
    Her gaze wandered along the length of his bronzed, sculpted arms before locking on to his eyes, her breath catching at the back of her throat.
    “Hi,” she managed, all other words—along with her sense—escaping her.
     
    On days like today, Rory wondered how he’d ever gotten to this point in his life. He loved acting, there was never any dispute about that, but all the crap that went alongside it, he loathed.
    The publicity, the photos, the constant interest in his everyday life with his every movement scrutinized for public consumption made him feel as if he were living in a TV reality show, but however much he hated the attention, he knew it came with the territory.
    The parties and the first nights were something to be