Read Online Otherwise Engaged by Suzanne Brockmann - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Suzanne Brockmann
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out!”
“Miss Cassidy,
On-line Entertainment
is willing to offer you fifty thousand dollars for an exclusive television interview, providing your perspective on Merrilee Fender and PrestonSeaholm’s divorce,” one of the reporters said to Molly in a low voice.
“But I don’t even
know
Merrilee Fender,” she started to say.
But just as quickly as the reporters had descended upon her, they turned.
Pres Seaholm had come into the store.
Millie was standing up on the checkout counter, shaking with anger and threatening to call Liam Halliday, Sunrise Key’s sheriff.
The reporters began calling out Pres’s name, adding to the noise and chaos, asking
him
their ridiculous questions, every one of which he ignored.
Molly could do nothing but stand and stare.
Pres was wearing a dark-colored business suit, complete with gleaming white shirt and power tie, and that, combined with his slicked-back hair and the tight expression on his face, made him look completely, thoroughly formidable. His eyes were all but shooting sparks as he searched the room, softening only slightly with relief as he found Molly and met her gaze.
He pushed his way none too gently through the crowd.
“Are you all right?” He ignored the reporters, speaking to her as if she were the only person in the room.
Molly nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine. It’s just … it’s silly.” She shrugged, suddenly intensely aware both of the warmth of his hands on her bare arms and of how happy she was to see him. She smiled foolishly up at him. “I mean, if they really want to take pictures of me buying zucchini …”
Flashbulbs were going off again, and Pres pulled Molly with him toward the back of the store, trying to shield her from the cameras. Millie Waters had moved toward the back delivery door, and she closed and locked it behind them as soon as they went out.
And just like that, they were suddenly, blessedly alone.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
Molly nodded again.
It had to be nearly one hundred degrees out there in the little alley behind the market. Pres felt the dark fabric of his jacket absorbing the heat of the brilliant afternoon sun like some kind of black hole. But he didn’t care. He didn’t care aboutanything but this woman who was gazing up at him with such a mixed expression on her face.
She might not be willing to admit it, but a substantial part of her was as glad to see him as he’d been to see her. Pres knew that without a doubt. And he knew in that instant, if he pulled Molly into his arms and crushed his mouth to hers, she would kiss him with the same unrestrained passion.
But he couldn’t forget that it would be only a matter of moments before the reporters found their way into this alley.
And he couldn’t forget Molly’s son.
“Where’s Zander?” Pres asked, his voice sounding raspy in the stillness. He took her hand and tugged her along with him toward the end of the rank-smelling little alley.
“He’s over at the Congregational church. The Sunday school’s organizing a musical revue, and he volunteered to help. Why?”
“Come on, I’ve got a car waiting.”
Molly stared. A car, indeed. It was a stretch limousine, black and sleek, complete with privacy glass. “It matches your suit,” she said.
“I had a business lunch over on the mainland.”Pres opened the door for her and all but pushed her inside. The seats were covered in real leather. There was a TV and a VCR and a bar and even a computer. “When I left the meeting, my driver had picked up a newspaper for me. That’s when I saw this.”
Pres handed her the newspaper, open to the lifestyles section, as he climbed into the limo after her. “Drive, Lenny,” he ordered the driver through an intercom before he even shut the door behind him. “To the Congregational church.”
Molly stared at the picture in the newspaper. Zander was in that picture, wearing his favorite superhero T-shirt and his cutoff jeans. He was standing next to Pres, who
“Miss Cassidy,
On-line Entertainment
is willing to offer you fifty thousand dollars for an exclusive television interview, providing your perspective on Merrilee Fender and PrestonSeaholm’s divorce,” one of the reporters said to Molly in a low voice.
“But I don’t even
know
Merrilee Fender,” she started to say.
But just as quickly as the reporters had descended upon her, they turned.
Pres Seaholm had come into the store.
Millie was standing up on the checkout counter, shaking with anger and threatening to call Liam Halliday, Sunrise Key’s sheriff.
The reporters began calling out Pres’s name, adding to the noise and chaos, asking
him
their ridiculous questions, every one of which he ignored.
Molly could do nothing but stand and stare.
Pres was wearing a dark-colored business suit, complete with gleaming white shirt and power tie, and that, combined with his slicked-back hair and the tight expression on his face, made him look completely, thoroughly formidable. His eyes were all but shooting sparks as he searched the room, softening only slightly with relief as he found Molly and met her gaze.
He pushed his way none too gently through the crowd.
“Are you all right?” He ignored the reporters, speaking to her as if she were the only person in the room.
Molly nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine. It’s just … it’s silly.” She shrugged, suddenly intensely aware both of the warmth of his hands on her bare arms and of how happy she was to see him. She smiled foolishly up at him. “I mean, if they really want to take pictures of me buying zucchini …”
Flashbulbs were going off again, and Pres pulled Molly with him toward the back of the store, trying to shield her from the cameras. Millie Waters had moved toward the back delivery door, and she closed and locked it behind them as soon as they went out.
And just like that, they were suddenly, blessedly alone.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
Molly nodded again.
It had to be nearly one hundred degrees out there in the little alley behind the market. Pres felt the dark fabric of his jacket absorbing the heat of the brilliant afternoon sun like some kind of black hole. But he didn’t care. He didn’t care aboutanything but this woman who was gazing up at him with such a mixed expression on her face.
She might not be willing to admit it, but a substantial part of her was as glad to see him as he’d been to see her. Pres knew that without a doubt. And he knew in that instant, if he pulled Molly into his arms and crushed his mouth to hers, she would kiss him with the same unrestrained passion.
But he couldn’t forget that it would be only a matter of moments before the reporters found their way into this alley.
And he couldn’t forget Molly’s son.
“Where’s Zander?” Pres asked, his voice sounding raspy in the stillness. He took her hand and tugged her along with him toward the end of the rank-smelling little alley.
“He’s over at the Congregational church. The Sunday school’s organizing a musical revue, and he volunteered to help. Why?”
“Come on, I’ve got a car waiting.”
Molly stared. A car, indeed. It was a stretch limousine, black and sleek, complete with privacy glass. “It matches your suit,” she said.
“I had a business lunch over on the mainland.”Pres opened the door for her and all but pushed her inside. The seats were covered in real leather. There was a TV and a VCR and a bar and even a computer. “When I left the meeting, my driver had picked up a newspaper for me. That’s when I saw this.”
Pres handed her the newspaper, open to the lifestyles section, as he climbed into the limo after her. “Drive, Lenny,” he ordered the driver through an intercom before he even shut the door behind him. “To the Congregational church.”
Molly stared at the picture in the newspaper. Zander was in that picture, wearing his favorite superhero T-shirt and his cutoff jeans. He was standing next to Pres, who
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