9781631050275TheirPerfectMatchMarshNC Page 7

  Zane winked. “Don’t be silly. You look beautiful, and that fits in anywhere as far as I’m concerned.”

  He took her coat and draped it carefully over the back of her bench. He did the same with his own leather jacket, exposing his muscular forearms for Molly’s admiration.

  Her pulse began to thud in her ears. In an effort to distract herself, Molly scanned the walls. They were decorated with athletic memorabilia, the space above each booth devoted to a different sport. Directly over their heads hung a laminated hockey stick, a tiny plaque underneath identifying it as belonging to a professional player she’d never heard of, though her ignorance in that field covered quite a bit of territory. A bronzed baseball glove adorned the next booth, which sat empty, and just beyond that she could see what looked like a pair of ice skates.

  The display that captured her attention most though, was the one that occupied the brick wall facing her. This one featured a framed, black-and-white publicity shot of a bantam-weight boxer, stripped to the waist with his gloved hands raised in front of him. His dark hair was slicked back 1950s style, a single loose strand draped across his lowered brow. His thin lips crinkled in a carefully posed sneer. An autograph was scribbled across the bottom of the photo, though Molly was too far away to make out what it said. To the left of the frame hung a pair of weathered brown boxing gloves, apparently the same ones featured in the picture.

  Something about the picture touched a spark of recognition in her, though she couldn’t imagine why. She knew even less about boxing than she did about hockey.

  “Why don’t I get us some coffee?” Zane suggested. He waved toward the grill, and moments later Molly found herself staring at what could only have been a garden gnome sprung magically to life. Tiny cataract-blurred eyes squinted down at her from a round face seasoned with cavernous wrinkles.

  “Flinty, this is Miss Grayson,” Zane introduced her. “She deserves a lot better than that greasy mush you call food, but I decided this joint could use a little class.”

  “Yeah? If it’s so bad, why are you in here every morning, noon, and night?”

  Zane shrugged as he bit back a smile. “Because it’s cheap and convenient, and I developed a tolerant stomach at sea.” The gnome’s cackling response showed that he didn’t take Zane’s ribbing seriously. Instead, he reached over and poured two cups of strong-smelling coffee for them. His rolled-up shirtsleeves allowed Molly an unobstructed view of the intricate tattoos decorating both arms. Meanwhile, Zane turned his attention back to her. “Molly, meet Jeremiah Flint, otherwise known as Flinty, the owner of this fine establishment. “

  Flinty gave a good-natured snort and propped an open menu in front of her. “You get tired of this smooth-talkin’ seadog, Missy, you just let me know. I might not be as young and handsome as he is, but I know how to treat a woman right.”

  Zane closed his menu without bothering even to scan it. “Bring me the special.” He paused to wink at Molly. “I recommend you order the same. It’ll save all three of us a lot of time and stress.”

  “Fine,” she said, closing her menu and handing it back to a satisfied Flinty. “The special it is.”

  “He cooks a lot of one thing and wants everybody to eat it,” Zane told her while the old man ambled back to the counter. “He’ll just pretend he’s out of whatever else you try to order.” Her baffled expression prompted another of those lethal grins, and Molly felt her skin go hot again. “He hates to throw away food at the end of the day,” he explained. “Speaking of that, you need to try the bread pudding with caramel sauce. It’s Flinty’s other specialty. Trust me.”

  “I don’t know about that.” Molly instinctively patted her stomach. It felt flat, and she hoped to keep it that way.

  “If this is some weight-watching thing, you don’t need to bother. You look terrific just the way you are.”

  “That’s nice of you,” she said, heat blossoming in her cheeks.

  “I wasn’t just saying it to be nice. I’m being completely honest.” Zane’s gaze slid appreciatively down the curve of her shoulders and over the soft slope of her breasts.

  Time to change the subject again, she thought. “I take it you’ve been a regular here for some time.”

  “Actually, I’ve known Flinty since I was a kid.” His smile faded, for which her surging hormones were grateful. “It’s kind of a long story. But the food here is good, the price is reasonable, and I’m not much of a cook.”

  Molly decided to take the opportunity to mine some information. “Tell me about your family. I’m not asking on behalf of the business this time. I’m just genuinely curious.”

  “Not much to tell. My parents divorced when I was a kid. I lived with a stepfather most of the time, since my father wasn’t really into parenting.” His eyes drifted to the photo of the boxer she’d noticed earlier. “That’s him, you know. In the photo. Bruiser Bishop.”

  “Your father was a boxer—that boxer?” she asked, astonished.

  “Yep. He was kind of a minor legend in his own limited circle. That was partly why he never paid that much attention to me or my mother. His career took up a lot of time. Mom and I were sort of in his way. Then she left him. I saw even less of him after that.”

  Molly lowered her eyes at the pain in his voice. “But you came back when he needed you,” she said. “He must have done something right.”

  “Yeah, he had a hard life, especially at the end. All those blows to the head caught up with him. Painful as it was, I’m glad I was there at the end. I figured I owed him that much, whatever had happened in the past.” He shredded the corner of a napkin without looking down at it. “I had a stepfather, too, who treated me okay. That helped make up for a lot, but he’s gone, too. Even though he had the best care money could buy, it didn’t save him in the end. Mortality is the great leveler, like they say.”

  “And your mother?”

  “Married again. Third time lucky, I guess. She’s out in California with a younger guy, of all things. I haven’t seen her in a while. What about your folks?”

  “Retired to Florida a few years back. I go out there a couple of times a year. It’s nice, but I’m always glad to be home again in cold New England.”

  “So tell me what you like to do when you’re not working at fixing up people’s dates.”

  “Oh, I shop, go to movies and shows. I eat out with friends. And I read, mostly. Contemporary fiction.”

  “Depressing stuff, you mean.”

  “Sometimes. And I can’t deny that it suits my mood now and then.”

  “Not now, surely?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  Zane leaned toward her.

  “So what’s your favorite restaurant in the city? Don’t worry, I won’t tell Flinty.”

  Molly considered. “There’s a place on Burdon Street that’s good. It’s a bit fancy. I haven’t been there in a while.”

  He looked at her a bit oddly. “Burdon Street? You mean The Oyster Bed?”

  “Yes. You’ve heard of it?”

  To her surprise, Zane nodded slowly, his expression dazed, as though she had slapped him in the face instead of answering him in words. Had he endured a bad experience there? “Uh…I have, yeah.”

  “I take it you don’t share my enthusiasm.”

  “Never been inside,” he said gruffly. “I’ve just walked by it a few times.”

  The silence suddenly became uncomfortable. Molly decided the time was as good as it would ever be for her not-so-great apology for Friday night’s fiasco. “Zane…I want you to know I’m sorry about the way I behaved in your apartment the other night. You were a gracious host, and I got all moody and bad-tempered. You didn’t deserve that, and I apologize.”

  “That’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I was out of line, too. I was hoping this would help make up for it. Kind of a way to start over.” He seemed about to say more when Flinty arrived with their food.

  Chapter Five

  Zane tried not to betray the ferocity of the
emotions that tore through him when Molly mentioned The Oyster Bed. Of all the restaurants in the city, why did she have to suggest the one that had appeared over and over on Alaric’s fraudulent credit card bill?

  He watched her eat, grateful for the time to reflect while he pretended to concentrate on his food. When Flinty came back to check on their progress, he ordered the bread pudding with caramel sauce as promised.

  Molly looked embarrassed. “Really, I’m not sure I could eat that much.”

  Ignoring her half-hearted protest, Zane repeated the order to Flinty, who looked pleased as soon as he cleared away their empty plates. “Bring two spoons,” Zane added.

  Molly’s vaguely nervous look intensified when the dessert arrived and he picked up not his own spoon, but the one Flinty set in front of her. Leaning across the table toward her, Zane scooped out a hunk of the spongy, whip-cream-dabbed confection and guided it gently between her lips.

  “Here. Let me,” he whispered. He could feel every muscle in his lower body tighten as the warm sweetness oozed into her mouth, prompting her to capture its flavor with a light sucking motion. Suppressing a groan, he angled the spoon and stroked it slowly over her tongue.

  The way her eyes widened in surprise and pleasure, the way her breath grew heavier and more shallow, ignited an inferno of need deep in the pit of his being. Only the agreement he had with his half-brother, and the fact that they were in a public place, stopped him from following that spoonful of dessert with a taste of his own hungry mouth. Silently, he damned Alaric and his compromised bank accounts.

  He tugged the spoon away and let it hover only inches from her ruddy, caramel-sweetened lower lip. Molly’s hand came up and brushed over his fingers, guiding them down to her placemat. “You didn’t need to do that.”

  “Told you it would be good.” His voice barely got beyond a croak. “I have an instinct for these things.”

  Molly’s hands shook a little as she braced them on the table and pushed herself back, restoring a more formal distance between them. “Please eat the rest,” she murmured, averting her scarlet face. “I shouldn’t. I can’t.”

  “You can.” Zane started to lift the spoon again, but her fingers dug into his wrist with quiet urgency. Frustrated desire welled up inside him, pulled his slack expression into a scowl. “You don’t trust pleasure, do you, Molly?”

  She raised her chin and glared at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  The unanswered yearning that raced through his veins made him reckless. “It means that gaining a few pounds isn’t what frightens you. It shouldn’t—you can’t possibly be unaware how beautiful you are. It’s the idea of giving in to pure, raw, heart-stopping physical sensation that paralyzes you with fear. Both in terms of desserts…and other things.”

  He saw her body tense, her previously open expression clench like a fist. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “It isn’t.” In a few quick bites, Zane demolished what was left of the bread pudding. Even its undeniable sweetness, however, did nothing to extinguish his yen for hers. Reaching into his jeans, he pulled out his wallet and scattered a few bills on the table, then stood. He was thankful that the table stood high enough to disguise the physical evidence of the desire surging in his veins. Still, he was sure that his face betrayed the pain of aroused male flesh trapped in tight denim.

  They walked back to the office.

  “Thank you,” Molly said, turning to him.

  “You know, I’ll take you to The Oyster Bed if you want. Just ask. My treat. I shouldn’t have reacted the way did. After all, I asked.”

  “No. That’s all right. I haven’t been there in a long time and I’d rather find new places. My life is different now.”

  “You mean you’ve given up seafood or something?” Zane tilted his head.

  “I’ve given up quite a few things this year,” she said. “Goodbye, Zane. And thank you again.”

  He wasn’t sure what to make of her light laugh and the slight pressure she applied to his fingers. It might have been nothing more than an after-lunch handshake between business associates. Then she disappeared inside the building.

  He walked to a relatively private area and opened his cell phone. Alaric picked up on the first ring.

  “Well? What have you found out?”

  “Nothing much—yet. I’ve got a few ideas, though. That lead with the drunk and disgruntled customer went nowhere—when I called him back he admitted he’d exaggerated the whole thing. Still, I want to check out the employees next. Could be someone’s been tapping into the till without Molly knowing it.”

  “I don’t know. They’re probably all in on it.”

  “You have no basis for saying that,” Zane grumbled. Just then he glanced up and spotted Decker and Brenda crossing the street and walking in his direction, though luckily they hadn’t seen him yet. “Whoops, someone’s coming. Gotta go. I’ll buzz you back later.”

  Zane put the phone away and stepped around the corner of a nearby building before they had a chance to notice or recognize him. From his hiding place, he scrutinized the two of them carefully. Brenda was carrying a shopping bag inscribed with the name of an upscale boutique he’d passed a few times. The window display had been filled with tiny bottles of perfume, bath oils, and cosmetics that often cost as much as his monthly utility bill. Decker was also carrying a bag from the same place, presumably filled with men’s products. Had the two of them stopped there to shop after their special lunch—using money pilfered from Lovelines’ clients, perhaps?

  He watched as the two stopped in front of the door to Lovelines’ office building, wrapping their arms around each other and indulging in the kind of silly smooching and whispering he would have expected to see in the parking lot of a high school. The two stepped apart only when Todd and a tall, redheaded woman came strolling along from the other direction. Next, the four of them paused on the sidewalk and stood talking to one another before they ventured inside. Though Zane could not hear everything they were saying, the gist of the conversation was clear. Todd bent and whispered something to the woman he was with, presumably the goddess-like Sabrina , who proudly lifted her left hand and tilted it in the afternoon sun. Even from thirty feet away, Zane saw the flash of a well-made diamond ring.

  As Brenda excitedly admired the ring, Zane heard her mention Molly’s name—something about how she might react to Todd’s engagement. Todd laughed it off more loudly.

  “Oh, come on. Why should she care? She’ll be happy for me.”

  “I should hope so,” the red-haired woman snapped, also loudly enough that Zane could hear her. “I see no reason we should pretend in order to avoid offending her.”

  “No one is suggesting we pretend,” Todd said.

  The friendly conversation ended abruptly. Decker bade Brenda a quick farewell and turned away, heading back to his delivery truck parked a little ways down the street. Todd and his lady friend continued to interact for a few more moments, a bit tensely, Zane thought. Then Todd went inside and Sabrina set off on foot.

  Zane was now sure there had been something between Todd and Molly once—if not still. Perhaps Todd had even been her companion at the Oyster Bar. Had he been the reason she had given it up? Or had they grown nervous at using the stolen credit card numbers more than a few times?

  Stuffing his hands in his jacket, he crossed the street and walked briskly until he casually fell into step beside Sabrina.

  “Excuse me,” he said as she paused beside a sleek foreign sports car she’d wedged into an illegal spot near the corner.

  “Yes?” She looked up at him, her face tensing and her thumb hooking protectively around the strap of her designer handbag. This time, Zane got a close-up view of the huge, sparkling rock adorning her ring finger. Expensive, he could tell. Another fraudulent charge on Alaric’s, Walter Westley’s, or some other poor sap’s credit card?

  “I wondered if you could tell me where I might find Burdon Street,” Zane improvised. “I’m looking for a
restaurant called The Oyster Bed. I was supposed to meet a friend there, but I’m afraid I must have taken a wrong turn.”

  “Oh.” Sabrina visibly relaxed, though Zane noticed she tightened her grip on her handbag. “Actually, I do know that place.” She explained the directions briefly, using her free hand to gesticulate. At the same time, she was subtly angling her finger to better show off her ring. Zane only pretended to listen, since he knew the location of the restaurant itself quite well. Instead, he focused on her facial expressions and body language. He detected nothing particularly amiss—or especially intellectual—about Sabrina, though he sensed she was well aware of how attractive she was and had no problem with others noticing it.

  “Thank you. I think I know what I did wrong now. I’ll retrace my steps. Thanks a lot.” Pausing, Zane pretended to notice her ring for the first time. “By the way, that’s quite a diamond. Your lucky guy must be doing quite well for himself…in more ways than one.” He pretended to pass an approving gaze over the length of her body. As he’d expected, Sabrina beamed at him. He wondered how she would have reacted if she’d known he had imagined Molly in her place to summon the appropriate look of admiration.

  “You could say that. To be frank, I wouldn’t consider being with a man who couldn’t take care of me. I think I’m worth it.” She opened the door of her car, revealing a pristine white-leather interior.

  “I have no doubt of that. Well, thanks again.”

  “Bye now. Enjoy your lunch.”

  Zane gave her a brief wave and turned away as she got into her car. As she peeled into traffic without bothering to check her rear-view mirror, he reflected that Sabrina couldn’t have been as familiar with The Oyster Bed as she had implied. After all, the place wasn’t open for lunch, something she seemed unaware of.

  When he’d walked with Molly over to Flinty’s, he’d been ready to call Alaric and put an end to the whole investigation. He'd been convinced that his brother was either imagining things or making up excuses for his own carelessness with his bank accounts and lines of credit. The past two hours though, had given him an entirely new perspective.