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There was no doubt he was taken aback by the icy indifference of her tone, for his eyebrows shot up and he stared at her with bewilderment in his beautiful blue eyes.
Molly was disgusted with herself for instantly feeling guilty. So much for her first foray into hating Liam! But she was determined not to weaken this time. Enough was enough.
‘You know me, Liam,’ she went on brusquely. ‘I’ve never been a car person.’
‘That’s because you’ve never learned to drive, Moll. You’d appreciate cars much more if you were ever behind the wheel. Come on, come for a short spin with me.’ He actually took her arm and began propelling her across the pavement.
‘Liam!’ she protested, wrenching her arm away from his hold and planting her sensible shoes firmly on the pavement. ‘I can’t. I’m at work.’
‘But the library’s not even open,’ he argued. ‘Surely they won’t miss you for a couple of minutes?’
‘That’s beside the point,’ she said sternly. ‘You might be your own boss, Liam, and can come and go as you please, but most people can’t, me included. Besides, it’s almost morning tea and I have to be here for that.’
The rest of the staff had all chipped in to buy her a cake. It was a tradition in the library whenever one of them had a birthday. No way was she going to run out on her real friends to indulge Liam’s ego.
‘I don’t see why,’ he said stubbornly.
No, you wouldn’t, Molly thought mutinously, and toyed with telling him, just so he could feel terrible for a full ten seconds.
The decision was taken out of her hands when Joan popped her head out the door.
‘Come on, birthday girl. Greg’s brought your cake along and all twenty-five candles are alight and waiting. So get in here and do the honours. You can bring your hunk of a friend, if you like,’ she added, looking Liam up and down with saucily admiring eyes. ‘We’ve more than enough cake for an extra mouth.’
Molly relished Liam’s groan. To give him some credit he did look suitably apologetic once Joan disappeared.
‘God, Moll, I had no idea it was your birthday. There I was, blathering away about my new car, and all that time you must have been thinking how damned selfish I was being.’
Frankly, she was enjoying his guilt. It had a deliciously soothing effect on her damaged pride. ‘That’s all right, Liam. I’m used to your not remembering my birthday.’
He winced anew. ‘Don’t make me feel any more rotten than I already do.’
Molly almost gave in. It was awfully hard to stay mad at Liam. He didn’t meon to be selfish. He was, unfortunately, the product of a doting mother and far too many God-given talents. Brains and beauty did not make for a modest, self-effacing kind of guy. Liam could be generous and charming when he set his mind to it, but in the main he was a self-absorbed individual who rarely saw beyond the end of his own classically shaped nose.
God knows why I love him so much, Molly thought irritably.
But then her eyes travelled slowly from his perfect face down over his perfect body, and every female cell she owned clamoured to be noticed back.
But the only expression in his eyes when he looked down at her was remorse. When he forcibly linked arms with her, she glared her frustration up to him.
‘Don’t be mad at me, Moll,’ he said with disarming softness.
‘I’m not mad at you,’ she returned stiffly.
‘Oh, yes, you are. And you have every right to be. But I’ll make it up to you tonight, if you’ll let me.’
‘Tonight?’ she echoed far too weakly.
‘Yes, tonight,’ he said firmly. ‘But for now I think your colleagues are waiting for you to blow out those twenty-five candles.’
With typical Liam confidence he steered her into the library and proceeded to charm everyone in the place. It annoyed Molly that he gave her openly curious workmates the impression he was a boyfriend of sorts. He even extracted her promise in Joan’s goggle-eyed presence to go out with him later that evening. She initially refused dinner—no way was she going to disappoint her mother—but grudgingly agreed to after-dinner coffee somewhere.
Molly told herself afterwards that she would never have agreed to go out with him at all if she’d been alone with him. She would have sent him on his way with a flea in his ear! She didn’t need his pity, or his guilt.
The moment his new red Mazda roared off up the road back in the direction of Sydney, Joan settled drily knowing eyes on her.
‘Well, you’re a dark horse, Molly, aren’t you?’ she said as they walked together back into the library. ‘I’ve always thought of you as a quiet little thing and all this time you had something like that on the side.’
Molly silently cursed Liam to hell. All he ever caused her was trouble and heartache. ‘Liam’s mother lives next door,’ she explained with more calm than she was feeling. ‘I’ve known Liam for years. We’re just good friends.’
‘Oh, sure. He drove all the way up from Sydney to wish you a happy birthday because you’re just good friends. You know what? I’ll bet you’re one of those girls who go home from the office at night, and perform one of those ten-second transformations. You know the type. Off come the glasses and the straitlaced clothes. Down comes the hair. On goes the sexy gear, make-up and perfume, and—whammo!—instant heat!’
Molly had to laugh. It would take more than ten seconds to transform her!
‘You can laugh,’ Joan scoffed. ‘But I’m no one’s fool. And you’re far prettier than you pretend to be. I always did wonder why you never seemed to be on the lookout for a fella. I was beginning to think all sorts of things till glamour boy arrived on the scene today. He gave me a case of instant heat, I can tell you. And I saw the way you looked at him when you didn’t think anyone was noticing. You’ve got it bad, Molly. I know the signs. So why haven’t I heard of this paragon of perfection before? Why all the mystery and secrecy? Is he married? A womaniser? A bad boy? Look, you can trust me with your deep dark secrets,’ she whispered. ‘I won’t tell anyone.’
Molly laughed a second time. ‘There’s nothing deep or dark to tell. I repeat...we’re just good friends. As I said before, Liam used to live next door. We went to school together, though not in the same class. He was doing his HSC when I was only in my first year.’
‘Well, there’s nothing remotely boy-next-door about him any more,’ came Joan’s dry remark. ‘He has city written all over him. Not to mention success.’
‘I’m well aware of that, believe me. I’m not blind. But there’s never been any romance between us, and there never will be. He has a steady girlfriend. Goes by the name of Roxy.’
‘Roxy,’ Joan repeated, her nose wrinkling. ‘Don’t tell me. She’s a stunning blonde with boobs to die for, hair down to her waist and legs up to her armpits.’
Molly was startled. ‘You know her?’
‘Nope. Just guessed. Men like your Liam always seem to have girls like that on their arm.’
‘He isn’t my Liam,’ Molly said tightly.
‘But you’d like him to be, wouldn’t you?’
Molly opened her mouth to deny it. But her tongue failed her when a thickness claimed it. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes.
Her Liam.
What a concept. What an improbable, impossible, inconceivable, unachievable concept! To keep clinging to it was not only demeaning to her personally, but depressing in the extreme.
‘There was a time when I did,’ she said at last, her tone clipped and cold. ‘But not any more. I have better things to do with my life than pine for the impossible.’
‘Impossible? Why do you say it’s impossible?’
‘For pity’s sake, Joan, you’ve seen him. You yourself said men like Liam go for girls like Roxy, not mousy little things like me.’
‘You’d be far from mousy if you made the best of yourself. To be frank, Molly, a little make-up wouldn’t go astray. And an occasional visit to the hairdresser.’
Molly stiffened, despite the criticism striking home. ‘I wouldn’t want a man who didn’t love me for myself,’ she said sharply.
‘That’s rubbish and you know it! I’m an old married lady and I still have to work hard to keep my man. Now you listen to me, Molly. When Liam comes to take you out tonight, surprise him.’
‘Surprise him?’
‘Yes. Leave your hair down. Slap some make-up, on. Use a sexy perfume. Wear something which shows off that great little figure of yours.’
For a split second, Molly was buoyed up by Joan’s compliment on her figure. But then she thought of Roxy’s tall, voluptuous, sex-bomb body. . .and her momentary high was totally deflated.
‘I don’t have any sexy perfume,’ she muttered dispiritedly. She didn’t own much make-up either. But she wasn’t about to admit that.
Joan gave her an exasperated glare. ‘Then buy some at the chemist during your lunch-hour!’
Their library was in a small regional centre which boasted quite a few shops, a well-stocked chemist shop included.
Molly declined telling Joan that she only had five dollars in her purse. Sexy perfume was expensive, and she’d rather wear nothing than douse herself in a cheap scent.
Molly was actually contemplating asking Joan to lend her some money when reality returned with a rush. She could wear more make-up than a Japanese geisha and drown herself in the most exotic expensive perfume in the world and it would not make Liam fall in love with her. To think otherwise was ludicrous in the extreme, and belittling to his intelligence.
‘Thank you for your advice, Joan,’ she said with a return to common sense, ‘but I’d really rather just be myself. Now I’d better get back to these books.’
Molly resumed checking in the returns, blocking her mind to everything but the thought that at least she would not have to starve to death tonight after her mother’s special birthday meal. Liam could buy her something delicious and creamy to go with her after-dinner coffee.
She gave no more thought to Joan’s advice about make-up and perfume, till she arrived home late that afternoon and opened her carryall to find a paper parcel sitting on top of her house keys.
It contained a small but expensive-looking spray bottle of perfume.
And a note.
‘Happy birthday, darls!’ Joan had written in her usual extravagant hand. ‘This always works for me. Well...sometimes. Still, what have you got to lose? Go for it!’
Molly sprayed a tiny burst of perfume onto her wrist and lifted it to her nose. It was a wonderfully sensual smell, its heavy musk perfume bringing images of satin sheets and naked bodies and untold unknown delights.
Molly shook her head. To wear such a scent in Liam’s presence would be the ultimate self-torture.
And let’s face it, Molly, she told herself, wearing perfume—no matter how sensual—isn’t about to turn Liam into some kind of sex-crazed lunatic. With a girl like Roxy in tow, no doubt he has all the sex he can handle.
Molly glanced at the perfume’s name and almost laughed. Seductress, it was called. Good Lord. It would have to be a powerful potion to turn her into that!
It was a nice thought of Joan’s, but a total waste of time and money.
So was her advice. For Molly believed she did have something to lose. Her self-respect And possibly Liam’s friendship. She would not risk her relationship with him—such as it was—by acting differently or provocatively. He was an intelligent man and would surely notice if she climbed into his car wearing such an overpoweringly sexy scent.
No. She would not do it. Neither would she change her hairstyle, or put on more make-up, or scrounge through her limited wardrobe in some vain attempt to find something more figure-revealing.
Molly had her pride.
She shoved the perfume back in her bag and extracted her house key.
‘Is that you, dear?’ her mother called out as she pushed open the front door.
‘Yes, Mum.’
The smell of a roast dinner teased Molly’s nostrils as she made her way along the hall and into the kitchen. Not a pork smell. Chicken.
Naturally, came the rueful thought. Chicken carried the least fat and calorie count, provided the skin was removed. Which it would certainly be. She almost sighed when she also spied her mother wrapping the hoped-for crispy baked potatoes in foil.
Ruth glanced up and smiled at her daughter. ‘Have a good day, dear?’
‘Pretty good. Joan and the others bought me a birthday cake for morning tea.’
‘I hope you only had a small slice,’ her mother said, frowning. ‘I was going to get you a cake tonight but I thought it an extravagance when we can’t eat all of it.’
Molly suddenly felt like screaming. She turned away to hook her navy carryall over a chair, schooling her face into a more pleasant expression before turning back. ‘You’ll never guess who dropped in to see me this morning,’ she said brightly.
‘I can’t think. Who?’
‘Liam.’
‘Liam? You mean Liam Delaney?’
‘The one and the same.’ Molly declined telling her mother about the fiasco of his new car. ‘He was up this way today and asked me out tonight for my birthday.’
‘But I’m cooking you a special dinner tonight!’
‘I’ll be here for dinner, Mum. Liam isn’t picking me up till around eight.’
Ruth gave her daughter a sharp look. ‘You do realise he already has a girlfriend? A very beautiful one too, if I recall rightly.’
Molly controlled her growing irritation with difficulty. ‘I’m well aware of that, Mum, but we’re only going somewhere for coffee. Don’t forget Liam and I were friends long before Roxy came along.’
Ruth began to frown. ‘I still don’t know about this. I have an awful feeling it’s not a good idea.’
Molly came forward to give her mother a hug. ‘Mum, stop worrying. I’m a big girl now and quite capable of looking after myself. Besides, it’s not as though Liam is engaged or anything.’
Ruth’s head jerked back and she looked at her daughter with worried eyes. ‘You...you’re not going to do anything you shouldn’t do, Molly, are you?’
Molly was quite startled, and more than a little annoyed. ‘Such as what?’ It wasn’t as though she was about to leap into bed with the man. Not that she wouldn’t, if she ever had the chance. Making love with Liam was at the top of the list where her secret sexual fantasies were concerned. She was pretty sure, however, that she wasn’t even on Liam’s list.
‘I... don’t know exactly,’ her mother murmured. ‘You seem different tonight...’
Molly now thanked her lucky stars that she wasn’t attempting any kind of pathetic make-over tonight. She could just imagine what her mother would have said if she’d waltzed downstairs all dolled up and doused in Seductress.
‘Liam and I are just good friends, Mum,’ she repeated for what felt like the umpteenth time that day.
Molly was shocked when her mother looked at her the same way Joan had. ‘Come now, Molly,’ she said. ‘I’m your mother. I know exactly how you feel about that man.’
‘Yes...well, he doesn’t feel the same way about me, does he?’ came her taut reply.
‘No. And neither will he. Ever.’
Molly could not believe the pain her mother’s words brought her. It was one thing to tell herself there was no hope. Quite another to hear the futility of her dreams spoken aloud and with such crushing finality.
