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‘Thanks.’ Molly accepted the glass he held out to her. Having met David socially several times before, she was perfectly relaxed in his company.
Though she couldn’t repress her furtive glance around the room to check whether or not Gideon Webber was watching her accept the glass of champagne, and she frowned her irritation as he raised his own glass of what appeared to be sparkling water to her across Crys and Sam’s crowded sitting-room.
Molly turned quickly away from the easily discernible mocking humour in those dark blue eyes, the unbecoming colour once again flooding her freckle-covered cheeks. Damn the man. What was he? A one-man vigilante on the consumption of alcohol? Or was it just her consumption…?
Probably, she accepted heavily, wishing once again it had been anyone else but him who had seen her condition on that morning just over three years ago.
Although the world of acting was very often awash with the stuff, Molly very rarely drank alcohol herself—had found that it didn’t mix with early set calls or late-night theatre appearances. Which was probably why the downing of that bottle of wine just over three years ago had completely knocked her off her feet!
But there had been good reason for that, she reminded herself defensively. Knowing yourself in love with a married man—a married man who assured you he had every intention of remaining that way—would induce any sane woman to turn to the bottle. Besides, it had only been one measly bottle of white wine—not the whole crateful Gideon Webber seemed to be implying!
Did wine come in a crate? she wondered illogically, or—?
Get a grip, Barton, she instructed herself severely, determinedly turning her attention to David Strong. After all, he was almost as good-looking as Gideon Webber—and much nicer to boot!
‘It’s good to see you again, David,’ she told him warmly.
‘And you.’ He nodded, brown eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. ‘Although from what I hear we should be seeing a lot more of each other in the near future…?’ He raised dark brows questioningly.
Ah. Obviously someone had told him. Possibly Sam, as a courtesy to the leading man in his award-winning television series? Or had the secret leaked out in some other way? Probably the latter, she accepted ruefully; the supposed secrecy of the acting world had more holes in it than a sieve!
She gave David a quizzical smile. ‘Do you mind?’
‘Not at all,’ he answered easily, giving her the famous grin that had made him such a hit with female television viewers. ‘I think it’s past time Bailey had a more permanent love-interest in his life,’ he added reassuringly.
That wasn’t quite what Molly had meant by her question. It was one thing having the writer of a television series pop up in the studio whenever he felt like it—as Sam often did—it was quite another to have that writer’s stepsister appearing in the series with you. As the main character’s permanent but definitely whacky girlfriend!
Molly had been working mainly in American theatre the last few years, with the occasional television role thrown in, and until recently had had every intention of remaining out there. But a couple of months ago Sam had sent her the first script he had written for the new Bailey series, due to begin filming in the New Year, along with a cryptic message. ‘As I wrote the Daisy role based on you, only you could possible play her! Come home. I need you.’ Enough to evoke anyone’s curiosity.
Although Molly hadn’t been quite so sure after reading the script of that one episode!
The character of Daisy was an outgoing, dangerously inquisitive private detective, endearingly naive when it came to the vagaries of human nature, and most of all accident-prone—to the point where objects—usually bodies—seemed literally to throw themselves in her path for her to fall over.
Based on her? she had wondered, slightly dazed. She was outgoing, yes, and could be slightly eccentric, yes. But she wasn’t too sure that any of the other character traits fitted her, no matter what Sam might think to the contrary…
But the director of the programme had seemed happy enough with her audition when she’d returned to England a couple of weeks ago, and hadn’t hesitated about offering her a contract to cover the next Bailey series.
She had thought that particular snippet of information hadn’t yet been leaked, but obviously she was wrong; it was one of those well-guarded secrets that everyone knew about!
‘I actually meant, do you mind that I’m going to appear in the Bailey series with you?’ Molly corrected ruefully.
David raised dark brows. ‘The director assures me you were brilliant at your audition; why should I mind?’
She gave an awkward shrug. ‘Well…Sam is my brother.’ She pointed out the obvious. ‘And I wouldn’t like you to think—some people might think that had something to do with my getting the part.’ She grimaced.
‘The word you’re looking for is nepotism,’ drawled an insulting voice.
Gideon Webber’s voice. Of course. He seemed to lose no opportunity to insult her.
Was it acceptable for the godmother to hit one of the godfathers at a christening party? Molly wondered angrily.
Probably not.
Pity.
‘Gideon!’ David greeted the other man warmly—giving Molly the necessary time to clasp her hands tightly together in order not to give in to her initial impulse, after all. ‘It’s really good to see you again,’ the actor added smilingly.
Again? Molly wondered frowningly. Since when did television actors’ and interior designers’ paths ever cross? Never, or so she had hoped when she had decided on this move back to England. Although it now appeared she might have been wrong about that…
‘You can forget nepotism,’ David added with a grin. ‘From all accounts, this little lady can act her socks off.’
‘And any other part of her clothing. Or so I’m led to believe,’ Gideon Webber returned dryly.
Molly’s gasp of indignation was lost in David’s roar of laughter. Obviously he thought the other man was just joking. Molly knew better.
She looked up at Gideon Webber with narrowed eyes. His expression was openly scathing, and the colour slowly crept up into her cheeks. Exactly what had he meant by that remark?
‘How did you know she has to take her clothes off in episode four?’ David prompted the other man humorously.
Gideon’s gaze didn’t waver from Molly’s as he answered the other man. ‘Just an educated guess.’
Molly had no privacy to digest what David had just said. She had to take her clothes off?
Having only returned from America a couple of weeks ago, and been busy since then moving into the flat she had found in London, there hadn’t been time yet for her to read any of the other episodes in the new Bailey series.
She didn’t have a bad figure, definitely had curves in all the right places, but nevertheless Molly wasn’t sure she wanted to take all her clothes off for public display. Even with someone as nice as David.
And, if the derisive look on Gideon Webber’s face was anything to go by, he didn’t think her body was good enough for public display, either…
CHAPTER TWO
DAMNED cheek!
There was nothing wrong with her body—no excess bulges, her breasts pert, her waist narrow, hips slender, legs shapely—so why didn’t Gideon Webber think she was up to playing a nude scene?
Molly angled her chin challengingly at Gideon before turning to smile at David. ‘I think it might be rather fun,’ she assured him airily, hoping that none of her inner trepidation showed.
Until this moment there had been no mention of the fact that she had to appear nude in episode four or anywhere else. And she had signed the contract now!
Just wait until she got hold of Sam!
‘So do I.’ David grinned boyishly. ‘I have to say that Sam’s happy marriage to Crys has certainly livened the series up!’
So it would appear. She really did need to talk to Sam—if only to see if there were any other surprises that he hadn’t told her about.
‘They are happy together, aren’t they?’ Gideon murmured ruefully, looking across now to where Sam and Crys were talking softly together, their eyes glowing with the love they felt for each other, which had only deepened on the birth of their son.
‘Of course they are,’ Molly said waspishly, frowning.
Surely this man, just because Crys had once been married to his younger brother, didn’t begrudge her the happiness she had now found with Sam?
Molly knew that Crys had loved James very much, but she was only twenty-nine now—the same age as Molly herself. Surely Gideon didn’t think Crys should have remained faithful to his brother’s memory for the rest of her life? If he did, then he should never have agreed to be Peter’s godfather.
Gideon turned back to her, blue eyes hard as sapphires. ‘Then let’s hope they stay that way,’ he bit out harshly.
Molly’s frown deepened. ‘Why shouldn’t they?’
‘I think those two have already had their fair share of bad luck where love is concerned.’ David was the one to put this in quietly.
Molly knew exactly what bad luck David was referring to: Crys’s past loss was obvious enough, and Sam hadn’t looked at a woman until Crys after being publicly persecuted by his ex-fiancée twelve years before.
But, after David’s own recent loss, it was insensitive of Molly and Gideon to be carrying out this conversation in front of him at all. Even if the antagonism between the two of them was so intense it could be cut with a knife.
‘You’re right, David,’ Molly soothed, putting an apologetic hand on his arm. ‘Isn’t he, Gideon?’ she prompted hardly.
‘I think so—yes,’ Gideon agreed lightly, but a much stronger emotion burned briefly in the darkness of his gaze as he continued to look down at Molly.
And just what did he mean by that remark? And that look?
This man was too deep for her, too enigmatic; in fact, she could definitely feel a headache coming on!
She drew in a sharp breath as she deliberately turned away from that compelling gaze. ‘If you’ll both excuse me…? I just want to go and spend a few minutes with my parents before they leave,’ she added apologetically, knowing her parents had to go shortly.
‘Don’t let me stop you,’ Gideon Webber assured her abruptly.
If he so wanted to avoid her company, then why had he come over here and joined in this conversation at all? Molly wondered bad-temperedly.
‘See you later.’ David had recovered enough from the reminder of his recent loss to smile at her.
‘Of course,’ Molly said gently, not even sparing Gideon Webber a second glance before walking away to join her parents as they stood together across the room.
Damn the man. Damn. Damn. Damn!
Today’s christening should have been a wonderful family occasion, full of warmth and love, with all of them doting on Peter James. Instead, because of Gideon Webber’s presence, it had become something of a nightmare for Molly. But it was a nightmare she intended putting an end to at the earliest opportunity.
‘You!’ Molly gasped her dismay the following morning as she entered the kitchen to get herself a cup of coffee and found herself confronted by Gideon Webber, obviously doing exactly the same thing.
She had managed to excuse herself from the christening party the day before as soon as her parents had left, her claim of a headache completely genuine by that time.
She had certainly had no idea that Gideon Webber had spent the night here, too.
‘Me,’ he confirmed, his smile taunting her obvious displeasure at finding him here. ‘Coffee?’ He held up the coffee-pot in his hand.
A brandy would have been preferable after the shock she had just received. But that would only confirm for this man that she was some sort of dipsomaniac!
‘Thank you,’ Molly managed to squeak, through a throat that suddenly seemed extremely dry and lips that had gone numb.
What was he still doing here? she wondered wildly.
Unusually for December, the sun was actually shining, and the birds had been singing, too, as Molly made her way lightly down the stairs, filling her with pleasurable anticipation for the day ahead.
Anticipation that had just taken a definite nosedive!
‘Here—drink some of this.’ Gideon pushed a mug of steaming coffee into her unresisting hand. ‘Headache still bad?’ he prompted mockingly.
He was the headache! And, yes, it was bad—a terrible pounding had started behind her eyes and it hadn’t been there seconds ago.
‘I wasn’t sure whether or not you took sugar,’ he drawled as she sat down to take a much-needed swallow of the coffee—and almost choked on it. Not only was it unsweetened, it was also strong enough to strip the enamel from her teeth.
‘It’s fine,’ she managed to gasp, her eyes watering from the resounding slap Gideon had given her on her back. The thin green jumper she wore with denims was no barrier against the force of that hand.
Why hadn’t he just asked her how she liked her coffee? Or would that have been too easy?
Probably, Molly instantly answered herself irritably. It might also have deprived him of the pleasure of hitting her as well as choking her.
Okay, so he had stayed the night, for whatever reason. She accepted that, but that didn’t answer the question: what was he still doing here?
‘Crys and Sam have taken the baby and Merlin for a walk on the moors,’ he supplied economically, before sitting down in the chair opposite hers across the kitchen table.
As she had been rather late coming down it didn’t in the least surprise her that her stepbrother and Crys had already gone out for their usual morning walk with the dog. What she did find unsettling was the fact that she was left alone here for some time with a man who obviously despised her.
‘Don’t let me keep you from anything,’ she invited stiffly as Gideon still sat across from her, calmly drinking his own strong coffee.
He raised mocking brows. ‘What did you have in mind?’
She shrugged. ‘Having your breakfast? Packing?’ Leaving!
The sooner he made his departure, the sooner she could get on with relaxing—something she certainly couldn’t do around this man, either physically or mentally. Every remark he made to her, it seemed, had some sort of double meaning.
‘I don’t fancy breakfast,’ he answered her evenly. ‘But you go ahead.’
‘I’ll pass, thanks.’ She didn’t fancy breakfast, either.
But what about his packing? He was dressed casually today, in fitted black denims and a deep blue tee shirt, which meant he had his suit from yesterday to pack, at least…
‘It was a pity you left the party so early yesterday evening,’ Gideon drawled lightly.
Surely he hadn’t missed having her there? Or was it just that he hadn’t had anyone to sharpen his rapier tongue on once she had gone upstairs to bed? That was probably nearer the truth.
‘David had us all in hysterics with some of his more risqué stories of the acting profession,’ Gideon enlightened her dryly.
She would just bet that he had. In her experience, there was always more action going on behind the scenes than in front of the camera. Although, thankfully, she had never worked with David before, so none of those stories could have been about her.
She gave a grimace of a smile. ‘I’m sure we all have some of those we could relate.’
‘Even you?’
Why had that sounded like especially you? Or was she just ultra-sensitive where this man was concerned? In the circumstances, was that so surprising?
