“Obviously.” Molly tapped him on the nose. “So silly of me not to realize you had a spare decoy cap.”
“Not one,” Kathleen whispered. “He has a crate full of them.”
Fox shrugged and bit into a powdered donut. “When something becomes a trademark, you can use it to throw the hounds off the scent.” He rubbed his bristled jaw with his free hand. “Though I don’t know where I’m going to find extra Mollys so I can sneak out with my Molly through the service entrance.”
My Molly.
Her heart did a flip. “So I’m going to become a trademark?”
“So much they’ll give us one of those stupid joint names.”
“Folly?” Kathleen suggested, already halfway through a donut of her own, the raspberry silk of her top dusted with sugar.
“Good thing you don’t write lyrics.” Fox scowled. “Folly? Are you serious?”
“You do better.”
Grabbing a chocolate-glazed donut instead, Fox put it to Molly’s lips. “Taste this.”
She did, groaned. “You’re forbidden from bringing these anywhere near my vicinity except on very, very special occasions.”
“Yeah.” Kathleen sighed, fingers waving over the box as she deliberated her next pick. “This’ll cost an extra four hours in the gym with Macho Steve, the Evil Personal Trainer, but oh baby, every minute will be worth it.”
“Four hours?” Molly swallowed her second bite of the delicious treat, Fox taking great pleasure in refusing to give her the donut so he could feed it to her himself. “You’re tiny!” An entire box of donuts wouldn’t make any impact on Kathleen’s sleek frame.
“I live in the land of make-believe, sweetie.” Kathleen licked at the pink glaze of her donut. “You can never be too rich, too skinny, or too famous.”
Thinking of the ugly comments on the elevator photo, Molly knew the other woman wasn’t exaggerating. “You are being healthy though?” she asked, worried. “I don’t want you to get sick.”
Distinctive amber eyes widened. “Yes, I eat a healthy diet and I exercise—I don’t throw up or starve myself.” A strange hesitancy to her, Kathleen said, “Thank you for caring enough to ask. Not many people would.”
It made Molly aware once more of how many layers those around her kept between themselves and others. Kathleen called her a friend, trusted her enough to share some of her past, but didn’t expect Molly to care about so simple and important a thing as her health. True friendship, the kind Molly had with Charlotte, would take far longer to form.
And a lasting relationship, Molly thought, her eyes on the rock star who teased her he’d trade kisses for donuts, would take strength and commitment enough to stand against everything the world would throw at them.
That battle began with a vengeance the next afternoon, when they returned home. A phalanx of photographers had camped at the gate to the house, flashes going off in a blinding staccato as they attempted to capture Molly’s image through the closed windows of the SUV. A grim-faced Fox ignored them to nudge the car forward, and when one of the photographers stepped brazenly in front of the car, blasted the horn and kept going.
The man stumbled out of bumper range barely in time, falling backward onto his colleagues, his gestures turning rude as the gates closed behind the vehicle. The police arrived less than ten minutes later.
“One of them”—the senior cop jerked his thumb over a beefy shoulder—“wants to file a complaint. Says you tried to run him over.”
Swearing, Fox invited the officers into the house and, using a laptop, accessed surveillance footage from the gate. It showed the photographer in question stepping in front of the car on purpose.
The cop rubbed his face. “All right. You want to press charges?”
“No. It’s exactly the kind of publicity the piece of shit is looking for.” Pitiless words, but Fox’s voice was calm. “They’ve already got photos of your black-and-white coming through the gates. Fuck knows what story they’ll spin from it.”
“Still,” the cop said, “I’ll have a talk with him, see if I can dissuade him from pulling a stunt like this again.”
“Thanks, but it won’t do any good. The roaches always rise again.” Closing the door after the police left, Fox slammed his fist against the wood not once but twice.
“Fox!” Molly grabbed his hand, saw broken skin. “You’ve hurt yourself.”
“Leave it.” Pulling away, he strode past her. “I need to be alone.”
Chapter 30
Already shaken by the scene at the gate and the resulting police visit, Molly felt every word as if it were a blow. Fox had never rejected her touch that way. Feeling lost, she made her way to her favorite spot by the pool and took out her phone. “Charlie?” she said when her best friend picked up on the other end. “Can you talk?” Her voice wobbled despite her best efforts to keep her emotions contained.
“I can always talk when you sound like that.” A rustling, as if Charlotte was moving around. “Give me a sec to make sure we won’t be disturbed.” Her best friend was back on the line before Molly could begin to worry about having interrupted her at work. “Okay, what’s the matter? Are you still freaked out about that photo?”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Good. Because I’ve decided to have it framed and put on the back of my front door. It’s what I aspire to every day—looking smoking hot while a sexy, sexy man puts his hands on me.”