This Heart of Mine (Chicago Stars #5)(49)

"Sorry I'm late," she muttered. "I didn't get out of here until like eleven last night."

Molly spotted a fresh hickey on her neck, this one just above her collarbone. She was ashamed to feel another pang of jealousy. "You did a good job. The house already looks better. Why don't you get started on those dishes?"

Amy wandered over to the sink and began loading the dishwasher. Clips with tiny pink starfish on them held her hair away from her face. She'd outlined, shadowed, and mascaraed her eyes, but either she hadn't bothered with lipstick or Troy had already eaten it off.

"Your husband's really cute. I don't watch football, but even I know who he is. That's so cool. Troy says he's like the third-best quarterback in the NFL."

"First-best. He just needs to control his talent better."

Amy stretched, hiking her purple top above her navel and forcing her shorts even lower on her hipbones. "I heard you just got married, too. Isn't it great?"

"A dream come true," Molly said dryly. Apparently Amy didn't read People.

"We've been married like three and a half months."

Just about the same as Kevin and Molly. Except Kevin and Molly weren't having any trouble keeping their hands off each other.

Amy resumed loading the dishwasher. "Everybody said we were too young—I'm nineteen and Troy's twenty—but we couldn't wait any longer. Me and Troy are Christians. We don't believe in sex before marriage."

"So now you're making up for lost time?"

"It's so cool." Amy grinned, and Molly smiled back.

"It might be better if you didn't try to make up for any more of that lost time during working hours."

Amy rinsed out a mixing bowl. "I guess. It's just so hard."

"The slave driver will probably be checking up on you today, so why don't you get the bedrooms done as soon as you're finished here?"

"Yeah…" She sighed. "If you see Troy outside, will you like tell him I love him and everything?"

"I don't think so."

"Yeah, I guess that's immature. My sister says I should be a little more standoffish or he'll take me for granted."

Molly remembered the adoration on Troy's youthful face. "I don't think you have to worry about that yet."

Kevin had disappeared by the time Molly was done in the kitchen, probably tending to his hangover. She made iced tea, then phoned Phoebe to tell her where she was. Her sister's confusion didn't surprise her, but she couldn't explain how Kevin had blackmailed her into going with him without revealing too much about her physical and emotional condition. Instead, she just said that Kevin needed some help and she'd wanted to get away from the city. Phoebe started clucking just like Celia the Hen, and Molly got off the phone as quickly as possible.

She was tired by the time she finished baking Aunt Judith's citrus Bundt cake for afternoon tea, but she couldn't resist sprucing up the parlor a little. As she filled a cut-glass bowl with potpourri, Roo began barking. She went outside to investigate and saw a woman emerge from a dusty burgundy Lexus and turn to gaze out over the Common. Molly wondered if Kevin had checked the computer to see if any new guests were arriving. They needed to get better organized.

Molly took in the woman's oyster-white tunic, bronze capris, and sculpted sandals. Everything about her was stylish and expensive. She turned, and Molly immediately recognized her: Lilly Sherman.

Molly had met a lot of celebrities over the years, so she was seldom awed by famous people, but Lilly Sherman made her feel starstruck. Everything about her radiated glamour. This was a woman accustomed to snarling traffic, and Molly half expected some paparazzi to jump out of the pine trees.

The stylish sunglasses on top of her head held the rich auburn hair that had been her trademark away from her face. Her hair was shorter than it had been in her days as Ginger Hill, but it still had a sexy, tumbled look. Her complexion was pale and porcelain-smooth, her figure voluptuous. Molly thought of all the girls she'd known with eating disorders that had left them cadaverously thin. In earlier times women had aspired toward Lilly's figure, and they'd probably been better for it.

As Lilly headed up the path toward the house, Molly saw that her eyes were an unusually vibrant shade of green, even more vivid than on television. A faint web of lines fishtailed from the corners, but she looked barely forty. The large diamond on her left hand sparkled as she bent down to greet Roo. It took Molly a few moments to accept the fact that her poodle's stomach was being rubbed by Lilly Sherman.

"This place is a bitch to get to." Lilly's voice had the same husky quality Molly remembered from her days as Ginger Hill, but now it was a shade more sultry.

"It's a little isolated."

Lilly straightened and came closer, regarding Molly with the neutral politeness celebrities adopted to keep people at a distance. Then her attention sharpened, and her eyes frosted. "I'm Lilly Sherman. Would you have someone bring in my suitcases?"

Uh-oh. She'd recognized Molly from the People article. This woman wasn't her friend.

Molly stepped aside as Lilly climbed the steps to the porch. "We're sort of reorganizing at the moment. Do you happen to have a reservation?"

"I'd hardly come all this way without one. I spoke with Mrs. Long two days ago, and she said you had a room."