This Heart of Mine (Chicago Stars #5)(58)

"It's sort of interesting, isn't it, that you and Molly got married about the same time as me and Troy."

Molly set the first slice of Bundt cake on the Victorian cake platter and listened to Kevin dodge. "Molly said she was going to need more brown sugar. Anything up there?"

"I see two bags. There's this book I read about marriage…"

"What else?"

"Some raisin boxes and a thingy of baking powder. Anyway, this book said that sometimes couples who, like, have just got married have a hard time adjusting and everything. Because it's such a big change."

"Is there any oatmeal? She said she needed that, too."

"There's a box, but it's not a big one. Troy, like, thinks being married is awesome."

"What else?"

"Pans and stuff. No more food. But if you're having trouble adjusting or anything, I mean, you could talk to Troy."

Molly smiled at the long silence that followed. Eventually, Kevin said, "Maybe you'd better see what's left in the freezer."

Amy emerged from the pantry and gave Molly a pitying glance. There was something about the teenager's sympathy and those hickeys that was getting under her skin.

Tea wasn't nearly as much fun without Kevin. Mrs. Chet—actually Gwen—didn't try to hide her disappointment when Molly said he had another commitment. She might have cheered up if she'd known that Lilly Sherman was staying there, but Lilly didn't appear, and Molly wasn't going to announce her presence.

She was setting out the pottery mixing bowls so she'd be ready for breakfast the next morning when Kevin came in through the back carrying groceries. He dodged Roo, who was trying to make a meal of his ankles, and set the bags on the counter. "Why are you doing that? Where's Amy?"

"Stop it, Roo. I just let her go. She was starting to whimper from Troy-deprivation."

No sooner had she said it than she spotted Amy flying across the yard toward her husband, who must have sniffed her on the wind, because he'd appeared out of nowhere.

"There they go again," Kevin said.

Their reunion was more passionate than a perfume commercial. Molly watched Troy dip his mouth to the top of Amy's exposed breast. She threw back her head. Arched her neck.

Another hickey.

Molly smacked a Tupperware lid back on its container. "She's going to end up needing a blood transfusion if he doesn't stop that."

"She doesn't seem to mind it too much. Some women like it when a man puts his mark on them."

Something in the way he looked at her made her breasts prickle. She didn't like her reaction. "And some women see it for what it is—the pathetic attempt of an insecure man to dominate a woman."

"Yeah, there's always that." He gave her a lazy smile and headed back out the side door for the rest of the groceries.

While he unloaded, he asked Molly if she wanted to go into town for dinner, but she declined. There was only so much Kevin temptation she wanted to expose herself to at one time. She headed back to the cottage, feeling good about her self-discipline.



The sun looked like a big lemon cookie in the sky, which made Daphne hungry. Green beans! she thought. With a nice topping of dandelion leaves. And strawberry cheesecake for dessert.





This was the second time today the critters had popped into her head. Maybe she was finally ready to get back to work—if not to write, then at least to do the drawings Helen wanted and free up the rest of her advance.

She let herself into the cottage and found a well-stocked refrigerator and a cupboard stacked with supplies. She had to give Kevin credit. He was doing his best to be considerate. She wasn't crazy about the fact that she was starting to like him so much, and she tried to work up some anger by reminding herself he was a shallow, egotistical, overpriced, Ferrari-driving, kidnapping, poodle-hating womanizer. Except she hadn't seen any evidence of womanizing. None at all.

Because he didn't find her attractive.

She grabbed her hair and let out a muffled scream at her own utter patheticness. Then she fixed a huge dinner and ate every bite.

That evening she sat on the porch gazing down at the pad of paper she'd found in a drawer. Would it hurt to move Daphne and Melissa just a little farther apart? After all, it was only a children's book. It wasn't as if America's civil liberties rested on how close Daphne and Melissa were standing to each other.

Her pencil began to move, at first hesitantly, and then more quickly. But the sketch that appeared wasn't the one she'd planned. Instead, she found herself drawing Benny in the water, fur dripping into his eyes, his mouth agape, as he looked up at Daphne, who was diving off the top of a cliff. Her ears streamed behind her, the beaded collar of her denim jacket flapped open, and a pair of very stylish Manolo Blahniks flew from her paws.

She frowned and thought of all the accounts she'd read of young people being permanently paralyzed from diving into unfamiliar water. What kind of safety message would this send small children?

She ripped the paper from the pad and crumpled it. This was the sort of problem all those people who wanted to write a children's book never considered.

Her brain had dried up again. Instead of thinking about Daphne and Benny, she found herself thinking about Kevin and the campground. This was his heritage, and he should never sell it. He said he'd been bored here as a child, but he didn't have to be bored now. Maybe he just needed a playmate. Her brain skittered away from thinking about exactly what playing with Kevin would involve.