Molly Matthews Meddles in Marriage by Jill Steeples Page B

endured rather than enjoyed. He’d always made a pretty good job of putting on a show at those events, acting as if he were having the best time ever—such a great job that his grinning face usually ended up on the front of the tabloids the next day.
    Drinking too much and partying way too hard were his ways of getting through. Or at least it had been until now. But tonight he’d have Molly at his side and just the thought gave him a warm feeling of reassurance. For the first time in a long while, he was actually looking forward to his night on the town.
    Even the firing squad welcoming committee of her assistant Pippa and that Aaron guy—the one who always seemed to be hanging around whenever he visited—couldn’t dampen his anticipation.
    They didn’t matter to him because his sole attention was fixed on Molly. His breath caught at the back of his throat and his heart thumped so hard, resounding through his ears, he thought it might explode. An enormous grin spread across his face as he took in the full extent of her beauty before he managed to compose himself and rearrange his features into something approaching normal.
    “Hey, how are you doing?” he said, managing to sound like a second-rate character from one of his early films. “Sorry, I got held up. We’re going to have to drop in at my place so that I can get changed.”
    She looked adorable in a pretty pale green dress with a matching jacket, her warm auburn hair cascading in soft curls around her face. Her porcelain skin dusted with a smattering of freckles only added to her tangible vulnerability. All he wanted to do was reach out and touch her, to feel the softness of her skin beneath his fingers, to run his hand across her face and down her neck, to hold her body within his arms. To hell with the premiere, he would have quite happily taken her straight home to bed.
    Heat fired through his body, but that wasn’t the only thing troubling his mind. An overwhelming surge of protectiveness and responsibility toward Molly stirred deep within, startling him in its intensity. It took him right out of this small, top-floor office and back to his childhood home when he’d stood in the kitchen, facing his father, hearing the news that his mother had died. Responsibility for his father’s happiness may have been foisted upon him back then, but why he should feel that way now about Molly, he had no idea. She didn’t need his protection. Underneath that fragile exterior, she was as tough as the next man. It was a mistake he’d made with Emma, thinking she needed looking after, and one he wasn’t about to repeat with Molly.
    “I hope this is okay,” she said, bringing him back to the moment. “I wasn’t sure what to wear and I didn’t really have anything long.” She looked apologetic, the telltale sign of pinkness on her cheeks that Rory had come to recognize as an endearing feature whenever she felt even remotely uncomfortable. “Rory?” she prompted him.
    “Oh yep, it’s fine, absolutely perfect. You look lovely.” He cast a glance over at Pippa and Aaron, acknowledging their presence with a small nod of his head. “Shall we make a move?” he said to Molly.
     
    * * * *
     
    “Listen, just make yourself at home. I’m going to jump in the shower. There’s wine in the fridge or make yourself a cup of tea or coffee. Whatever you want.”
    Molly sighed with relief when Rory disappeared off into the bathroom. She’d only been with him for the last half an hour or so, but already she felt so tightly sprung with anxiety she didn’t know how she’d manage to get through the rest of the evening.
    What had she been thinking even offering to come in the first place?
    For one thing, she was wearing completely the wrong outfit. That much had been evident from Rory’s face. He’d looked at her almost aghast, speechless, that mocking glint clear in his eye, until he’d remember his manners and muttered something about her looking good. She didn’t