Page 10 of Homecoming Heartbreaker

And off-limits.

She pointed to the door and her voice, when she spoke, was shaky. “Get the hell out of my office.”

Mack, recognizing the signs of her temper, thought it prudent to step into the hallway. Pulling the door shut behind him, he rested his forehead on her door and gently banged it against the thick panel.Right, excellent attempt at making amends, friends and influencing people, Holloway.

Not.

Three

Aweek later, as was her habit, Molly left her office, walked toward the rose garden and veered right onto a path designed to meander through the wild garden. Mack still hadn’t found a nurse for Jameson and, instead of overseeing the resort, he was filling in as his father’s nurse, with the once-fired Rylee stopping by twice a day to check vitals and dispense meds, and to be on call for emergencies. Judging by the constant barrage of text messages she’d received from Jameson, it wasn’t going well and Jameson had fired his son on three occasions. Mack, as he’d told her when she stopped in to check on them yesterday, told her to keep bail money ready because blood was about to be spilled. He didn’t specify whose.

Molly slipped through the gate that allowed her access onto Jameson’s private property. After greeting Jameson’s golden retrievers, Trouble and Nonsense, she stepped into his huge open-plan kitchen and dining room, the double-volume space dominated by exposed wooden roof beams. A few years back Jameson converted the barn with an eye to the future, creating large bedrooms with en suite bathrooms on the second floor and installing a massive dining table to accommodate his sons, daughters-in-law and all their children.

So far not one of his sons was falling in line with his plans.

Families—they were such weird entities, Molly mused. Jameson once had the perfect family, but it was ripped apart by the hand of fate. She had two brothers and a mother but she had no illusions of her importance in their lives; they neither loved nor liked her. She was, simply, their personal cash machine, a means to an end. But she still had trouble emotionally, physically and financially divorcing herself from them.

She’d never had much of a family, but she was stronger now than when she was a child and she could, and would, tackle the world on her own. And she might have to, if Jameson banished her from Moonlight Ridge after she confessed her sins.

Molly felt her stomach knot at the thought. She’d lose her home, a job she adored, the respect of the man who’d guided, advised and loved her all of her life. Was her self-respect, being able to move forward with a clear conscience, worth the price she’d have to pay?

Molly shoved her hands into her hair and tugged, feeling herself whirling away on a tornado of self-doubt. Was losing Jameson too high a price to pay?Yes.

If she remained silent, could she live with herself?No.

She was stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea. And she was drowning.

But this wasn’t the right time to confess as his neurosurgeon warned them that Jameson couldn’t be subjected to any stress, that he had to be, for a few months at least, shielded from any anxiety-causing issues. The knowledge that she’d stolen from him would send his blood pressure skyrocketing, risking an actual brain aneurysm this time.

Molly placed her hands on the cool wood of the dining table and stared at the golden surface. She couldn’t confess and she couldn’t talk to anyone about her it-keeps-me-awake-at-night worries about the resort.

So what could she do?

Molly straightened her shoulders. She could do her job and manage the resort to the best of her ability. So far working with Mack had been tolerable, mostly because she could, mostly, pretend he wasn’t there. He was spending all his time with Jameson and, she presumed, keeping tabs on his own business empire. He’d call every morning at nine o’clock sharp and ask if there were any problems.

The only problem was his deep, sexy voice, the one that fueled her X-rated dreams. Mack, naked, his expression intense, saying her name as he—

“Molly?”

Molly stood up so fast her head swam and she grabbed the back of the nearest chair to keep her balance. Within seconds Mack’s strong hands were holding her biceps, steadying her. Then she made the mistake of breathing deeply and she inhaled his scent, immediately transported back to summer nights, hot and muggy, skinny-dipping in the pond before climbing up into the treehouse to lie on the rickety deck beneath the stars to intimately explore, with inexperienced hands, the wonder of each other’s bodies.

Molly lifted her eyes to his and his fingertips dug into her bare skin as he pulled her closer. She wanted to step back, thought she should, but her feet wouldn’t obey her brain’s suggestion. Mack’s hands slid down her arms to link his fingers in his and she watched, fascinated, as his mouth dropped to hers. He took his time to reach her mouth and, impatient, Molly couldn’t wait so she stood on her tiptoes to taste him. Her eyes closed as his lips met hers and she sighed, ignoring the thought that this felt right, that she was finally home.

Mack placed a hand on her lower back to pull her closer to him, close enough for her to feel the hard, very hard, ridge of his erection pushing into her stomach, close enough to feel the shudder that ran through him.

They shouldn’t be doing this, but his mouth on hers was the sweetest honey, the tartest spice. Sexy and demanding and amazing.

Entranced, Molly wound her arms around Mack’s neck, her fingers pushing into his silky hair. Holding her palm against his head, she kept his mouth on hers, needing him to take the kiss deeper, harder. Mack heard her silent plea and slid his tongue into her mouth, finding hers and leading it into a hot, desperate dance. Time and memories faded and she was seventeen again, lost in his touch, happy to follow where he led.

Teeth scraped, tongues dueled and hands raced as they fell into the moment, the deliciousness of the forbidden. Mack rediscovered the shape of her butt and she realized that his chest was broad, muscular, and his shoulders wide. Mack pushed his thigh between her legs and Molly just managed to resist rubbing herself against him. But she couldn’t resist pulling his shirt from his cargo shorts, discovering the smooth skin of his back, feeling the hard muscles of his ladderlike stomach.

They had to stop this before they couldn’t...

But not yet, not just yet. She wanted more, his fingers—or his mouth—on her nipples, between her legs...

Molly ran her hand over his fly, heard his groan as he pushed his erection into her palm, his mouth on her neck. She moved her thumb to rub his tip but encountered...

Nothing. Fresh air.

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