They’d have one stolen night together, and nobody else ever needed to know. Especially not her family. Hell, it wasn’t like she’d told anyone about last New Year, was it? So he had to know he could trust her to keep their secret.
All she needed was one night. And Jake, from what Tim had told her about their university days, and what she’d guessed from his revolving door of sleek brunettes in the past, was the king of one-night stands.
Dipping the ladle into the pan of mulled wine, Molly poured a healthy portion into one of the glass mugs her dad always brought out on the first day of December. Then she added a little more.
“That for me?” Tim leant a little too heavily against the kitchen counter as he asked, so Molly shook her head.
“I don’t think anyone can handle Dad’s mulled wine after a night on cinnamon vodka in the George and Dragon,” she told him.
“Ha!” Tim helped himself to a mug, and held a hand out for the ladle.
Molly rolled her eyes and handed it over. “It’s your hangover.”
“I’m a big boy. I can handle it.” He eyed her over the pan of spiced wine. “And speaking of not taking on more than you can handle—”
“Which we weren’t,” Molly pointed out. She had a very bad feeling about where this conversation was going.
“About Jake.” Tim didn’t look drunk anymore. Molly knew that just made him more dangerous.
“Also not what we were talking about.”
“It is now.” Pausing to take a sip of his mulled wine, Tim raised his eyebrows at her expectantly.
He was waiting for her to break. She knew that technique from years of being the youngest. He thought all he needed to do was act like he knew something already and she’d give up all her secrets.
It was a shame for him that she’d grown up.
“Actually,” Molly said, schooling her face into a concerned expression. “I did want to talk to you about Jake, in fact.”
Tim’s jaw tightened. “Look, Moll. Jake’s a good bloke. But—”
“I know he is,” Molly interrupted quickly. The last thing she needed was Tim warning Jake away from her because he’d got the, well, right idea.
“That’s why it’s so sad he still doesn’t feel at home here, don’t you think?”
“He…” Tim blinked. “What?”
“Didn’t you see him? He was hanging back when we arrived, didn’t hug Mum properly… we’re the only family he’s got, and he still doesn’t really feel at home here. It’s sad.” Time to pull out the puppy dog eyes. “You should talk to him. Make him understand that we really do want him to be here.”
“I should… yeah, no. That’s not going to happen.” Tim shook his head emphatically.
“Then maybe I should,” Molly said, trying to sound virtuous. “I mean, it is Christmas. Goodwill to all men and so on.”
“Just how much ‘goodwill’ are you intending on giving him? That’s what I’m worried about.” Damn. Maybe her brother wasn’t quite as drunk as she’d assumed, if he could still leap to these conclusions on minimal evidence. Well, minimal evidence and some ridiculously slinky lingerie.
“Look, Jake’s like a brother to me, right?” Molly said, eyes wide and hopefully innocent looking.
“You’re much nicer to him than you are to me,” Tim pointed out.
“I’m nicer to Great Aunt Mabel than I am to you, and God knows she doesn’t deserve it.” Molly sighed, and changed the subject, hoping Tim wouldn’t notice. “Is it our turn to have her this year, by the way?”
“Mad Mabel? No, the cousins have her for the festivities. She’ll be here for New Year, though. She hasn’t gotten over having to miss last year’s and not meeting The American.”
“Lucas,” Molly corrected automatically, but her mind was already filling with memories from last New Year’s Eve. It was as if they just hovered around the edges of her mind, all the time, just waiting for the slightest reason to flood back and consume her. Hearing the song that had been playing downstairs when Jake kissed her, even if she was standing in the middle of a crowded supermarket, still made her feel like she was back in his arms. The smell of cinnamon had been playing havoc with her brain for weeks. And as for actually seeing him again… God, Jenna was right. She really needed to get him out of her system if she ever wanted to be able to think about another man the same way.
But first, she needed her brother to stop looking at her with such suspicion.
“I’m going to go take my bag up to my room,” she said, taking one last glug of mulled wine. Mmm, cinnamon…
Tim grabbed her arm as she put her glass down. “Wait, Moll. Listen. About Jake…”
“Tim, you really don’t need to worry—”
“But I do. Because you’re my little sister. And Jake…” Tim took a deep breath. “Look, he’s my best friend. And I don’t know what you two were talking about when I banged on the car window, and I’m going to pretend I never saw the… stuff that fell out of your suitcase. But just in case you were getting any ideas – ideas that I absolutely do not want to know about, by the way. Jake’s a good guy. The best friend you could want. He’s a part of this family. But he is one hundred per cent not the guy for you. Okay?”
When was the last time she saw her brother looking so serious? Gran’s funeral, maybe? Either way, he meant what he said – which made Molly wonder how much of the drunkenness outside the pub had been an act, a trick to pretend he hadn’t noticed the intense way she and Jake were staring into each other’s eyes.
With a deep breath, Molly placed her hand over her brother’s, looked him in the eye, and lied.
“Tim. Jake is like a brother to me. Trust me, he’d probably be as disturbed by this conversation as I am. There’s absolutely nothing between us. Okay?”
“Okay.” But Tim’s gaze never left hers, as though he was searching for a chink in her lie. Then he sighed, and stepped back. “He’s a good bloke, Moll, don’t get me wrong. But he’s not right for you. Hell, for a start, you don’t know where he’s been, if you know what I mean.” Oh, she knew. Jake’s revolving door of women was legendary. And now probably wasn’t the time to mention to Tim that one of the places Jake had been was up her shirt.
Tim sighed. “He’s just not good enough for you,” he said, the words heavy, and Molly realised she actually had to answer him. More than that, she needed to reassure him.
“Not something you need to worry about.” She shifted uncomfortably, from one foot to the other. She should argue, should tell Tim he was wrong, she should defend Jake. But she couldn’t, because then he’d know for sure. “Jake and me? It’s the most ridiculous idea I’ve heard all year.”
She grinned up at him, one last determined lie, and kept her smile in place through sheer force of will as she spotted Jake, standing in the doorway behind Tim, a plate of mince pies in his hands. His face was rigid, his mouth fixed in a straight line, his eyebrows low. Oh God. How long had he been there? How much had he heard?
And worst, how much did he hate her right now?
Chapter 6
“He’s just not good enough for you.”
The words made Jake slam to a halt outside the kitchen, almost losing a mince pie or two from the plate he was carrying in the process. They shouldn’t, though. It wasn’t as if they weren’t expected.
Hell, if he had a little sister, he wouldn’t let a guy like himself date her – especially not one five years older. And if Molly brought home some London loser who gave even a hint of being like him – or Tim, for that matter – Jake would intimidate the guy all the way back down south in a heartbeat.
Molly deserved the best – someone without baggage, or issues, or an unfortunate history with women.
And she clearly thought so too, from her response – or else, she was busy putting her brother off the trail. In which case, what the hell did she imagine would happen if they did get together? Tim would be mad as hell with him for daring to touch her, and furious with Molly for lying to him. The worst
of both worlds.
Staring down at the mince pies, their little pastry holly leaves promising the perfect Christmas that everyone knew was impossible in reality, Jake mentally cursed Philippa Mackenzie and her powers of persuasion that had convinced him to stay with them for the holidays. If he’d had any sense, any will power, any brains, he’d have insisted on staying at home and just driven over to the Mackenzie house for Christmas Day itself, just like he’d done every other year.
Instead, he’d let Philippa talk him into an extended stay, imprisoning himself in the house with the one woman he couldn’t touch, however much she seemed to want him to, and regardless of how long he’d fantasised about it. Even better, he’d got to hear his best friend hold forth on why he was a lousy human.
Merry Christmas, Jake.
He glanced up again and saw that Molly had spotted him. Too late to pretend he wasn’t there, or even that he hadn’t heard anything. From her horrified expression, she knew exactly what he’d heard.