Free Molly Matthews Meddles in Marriage by Jill Steeples

women on my books. Let’s start with a couple of dates to begin with and then we can move forward from there.”
    “Sounds good to me.” Rory stood and made for the door. “I promise to be your perfect client from now on. I’m going on all the dates you fix up for me. Any future networking events, put my name down. I’ll be there.” He turned to face her. “Listen, I should make a move. I’ve kept you far too long as it is. Do you want to share a cab home?”
    “No, my car’s outside. Thanks for turning up, Rory. I appreciate it. I’ll give you a call in the next few days.”
    “I’ll look forward to it.” His gaze swept the length of her body, soaking up every detail of her beautiful face, consigning them to his memory, so he’d be able to recall each and every one of them for later. He leaned across, leaving the faintest of kisses on her cheek. That sweet smell of vanilla taunted his nostrils again. It took all his resolve not to scoop her up in in his arms and shower her with a thousand more kisses.

Chapter Five
     
     
     
    The front-door buzzer beeped intrusively, making Molly jump in her skin, causing her to knock her handbag off the arm of the chair in the process. Nerves had been getting the better of her all day. The memory of that supposedly innocuous kiss they’d shared had been running riot in her mind.
    “Taxi for Miss Matthews,” came a distorted voice through the intercom. She scooped up the contents of her bag, stuffing them back in hurriedly, held her hands up in dismay at her reflection in the mirror and wondered how, as she dashed down the stairs, Rory was calling the shots once again.
    She hadn’t seen him since their late-night heart-to-heart six weeks ago when he’d professed to being a new man. Admittedly, he’d had six dates since then, but Molly sensed she wasn’t any further forward in finding Rory’s perfect woman. She’d been trying to get him into the office for a review meeting, but Rory could be an elusive man when he wanted to be.
    “Sorry, Molls,” he’d said down the phone, “I’m not being deliberately evasive, it’s just that work is manic at the moment. I’ve been in rehearsals for a new stage production we’re taking on tour soon and then I’ve been shooting the final scenes of that action film I told you about. There’s been a lot of other stuff on as well, publicity, interviews etc. that have taken up a lot of time too.”
    Molly could only sigh at the other end of the phone. How could he manage to make manic sound so desperately glamorous? Her idea of manic was working twelve-hour days, the washing machine flooding the kitchen, the car breaking down and meeting her mum and her sister for dinner, all in the same week!
    And she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it was that he’d started calling her Molls, but it was far too late to say anything about it now. The only other person to call her by that name was her dad and from Rory’s lips it sounded affectionate, caressing and way too familiar. Like molten molasses spreading through her veins.
    “I’ll send a car and we can meet at my friend’s place in Soho. It’s very quiet and intimate, it’ll be the perfect place to chat. That okay with you?” he added as an afterthought.
    The taxi pulled up in the bustling Soho street and her heart fluttered at the dawning realization of where she was.
    She might have guessed that the friend’s quiet little place would turn out to be nothing of the sort, but instead the only three Michelin star restaurant in town belonging to the celebrated Marco Faro.
    She gulped as she was whisked through the side entrance and ushered in past the cloakrooms, the noise and general hubbub of the restaurant making for a friendly welcome. She peered through the back curtain, her gaze scanning the entire room. Most of the tables were filled and the staff bustled around the room, attentive yet discreet, the overall ambience one of relaxed sophistication. She had to pinch herself