"I REALIZE this is a christening, but isn't it a little
early in the day's proceedings to be wetting the baby's
head?"
Caught in the act of raising the glass of champagne to her
lips, Molly froze. Unfortunately, the bubbly wine in the
glass didn't freeze, too, slopping over the side to splash
over her hand and down her wrist, instantly soaking into
the sleeve of her jacket.
"Even for you," that taunting voice added derisively.
Molly looked up indignantly, glaring across at the man who
stood in the doorway watching her with hooded eyes so dark
a blue they were almost the same colour as the iris.
Gideon Webber...! She closed her eyes briefly. It had to
be him who caught her guzzling a glass of champagne,
didn't it? It just had to be!
He was the reason she had sneaked in here for this illicit
glass of champagne in the first place, knowing she was
going to need every bit of help she could find to face him
later on this morning.
Except it wasn't later. It was now. And as she glanced
back across at Gideon Webber she could see that same look
of contempt on his arrogant face as had been there the
last time she had seen him. The first as well as the last!
Not that the man looked any less lethally attractive than
he had just over three years ago, when they had last met;
his hair was that strange but attractive mixture of golden
blond and molasses, his eyes that deep cobalt-blue, his
nose long and arrogant, over a finely chiselled mouth, his
chin square and determined. The last time Molly had seen
him he had been wearing casual denims and a tee shirt, but
today he looked even more arrogantly attractive in the
formal dark suit and snowy white shirt, the latter
complementing his golden tan.
Which he had no doubt recently acquired at some expensive
ski resort — it was all right for some! Molly thought
uncharitably.
"And what's that supposed to mean?" she snapped, even as
she put the glass down on the table. She reached into her
bag to look for the tissue she had put in there earlier
for emergencies, having decided she had to be ready for
any eventuality today! The last thing she wanted was to
start sniffing in the middle of her nephew's christening.
Gideon Webber shrugged broad shoulders, the slightly
contemptuous smile still curving that arrogant mouth. "You
seem to be rather — fond of — the odd glass or six, shall
we say?" He arched mocking brows.
"No, we will not say!" Molly returned waspishly, stuffing
the ineffectual tissue back in her bag. The sleeve of her
jacket was still soaking wet. She just hoped it wouldn't
stain when it dried; she had paid a lot of money for the
new suit she was wearing in honour of the day.
Gideon Webber grimaced unrepentantly. "We've only met
twice — and both times you've had a glass in your hand!"
"The last time it was Alka-Seltzer," she defended with
another resentful glare.
"So it was," he acknowledged with hard mockery. "I
remember commenting at the time that you would probably
have been better downing another glass of whatever had put
you in that state in the first place!"
Molly drew in a sharp breath as he made no effort to hide
his deliberately insulting tone.
She had been dreading today anyway, ever since Crystal had
told her who Peter's two godfathers were to be. But she
had finally convinced herself that surely Gideon Webber
was too polite to make any reference to their last
memorable meeting. Obviously, in light of their present
conversation, it was a totally erroneous assumption for
her to have made about this — this —
This what? she questioned herself heavily. Under any other
circumstances she would have considered this man lethally
attractive, "drop-dead gorgeous', as some of her more
colourful friends might have said. And he was gorgeous, no
doubt about that — over six feet of lethal attraction. He
just also happened to be one of the few people who had
ever seen her the worse for wear because of too much
alcohol...!
Time to take a bit more control of this conversation, she
decided firmly. "Those were exceptional circumstances,"
she told him decisively.
He raised blond brows over enigmatic blue eyes. 'And
today?"
"Oh, for goodness' sake," Molly snapped impatiently. 'At
most, I've had two sips of champagne." She picked up the
glass to take another assertive swallow. "That makes three
now." She looked across at him challengingly.
He gave an acknowledging inclination of his head. 'If you
say so," he drawled.
Molly felt the colour enter her cheeks at this obvious
scepticism as to the amount of champagne she had actually
imbibed — a colour that didn't exactly go with her blaze
of rich Titian hair. But, damn it, the man was making it
sound as if she were some sort of alcoholic who sneaked
around swigging alcohol whenever there was no one else
around —
Wasn't that exactly what she had just been doing?
Well...yes. But —
She gave an irritable sigh. "I do say so." She nodded
curtly. "I was just — it was only —" Oh, give up, Molly,
she advised herself self-disgustedly — While you're not
ahead! "Shouldn't we all be leaving for the church?" she
prompted briskly.
"Crys sent me in search of you for just that reason,'
Gideon Webber confirmed dryly.
Crys had sent this man to find her? But why not? Crys, of
all people, could have no idea how much Molly had dreaded
seeing him again. And that was the way she wanted it to
stay!
She put the champagne glass down on the table. "I'm ready
if you are."
He gave a mocking inclination of his head before turning
to open the door for her. "After you," he invited smoothly.
Molly straightened her shoulders, aware of that hooded
gaze following every inch of her progress, knowing what he
would see, too: a small redhead with warm brown eyes —
eyes usually full of fun and laugh-ter! — dressed formally
today, in a dress and matching jacket, her legs shapely,
the heels on her shoes a little high for comfort, but
their colour exactly matching that of her suit.
"Just one more thing," Gideon Webber murmured softly as
she would have passed him in the doorway.
She raised wary eyes, suddenly tense. "Yes...?" she
prompted cautiously, wondering what the 'one more thing'
he wanted to say to her could possibly be. Apart from
mentioning their unforgettable first meeting, of course!
He gave a humourless smile, that gleam of white teeth
looking almost feral. "Has anyone ever mentioned to you
that women with red hair shouldn't wear certain shades of
pink?"
His remark was so unexpected, so insulting in view of the
fact that she did have red hair, and that the suit she was
wearing was pink, that for several seconds all Molly could
do was open and shut her mouth like a goldfish in a bowl,
with no actual sound passing her lips.
She had loved the style of the dress and jacket as soon as
she'd seen them in the shop, but although she often did
wear pink, had been a little unsure about this particular
pale shade, debating long and hard while in the shop and
trying the suit on whether or not it was actually the
right colour for her. The shop assistant, probably sensing
her uncertainty, and, in retrospect, probably feeling in
danger of losing her commission on a sale, had assured
Molly that she looked wonderful in it.
So much for wonderful! Her eyes sparkled angrily as she
turned to give Gideon Webber a haughty glare. "Most men
would be too polite to say such a thing," she bit out
scathingly.
Humour glinted in his eyes now. "Most men couldn't tell
you what any woman was wearing yesterday — let alone
whether or not it suited her!"
He had a point there, Molly acknowledged ruefully,
thinking affectionately of her stepfather. As long as her
mother wasn't actually walking around in something
indecent, she was sure Matthew wouldn't notice what
Caroline was actually wearing.
"I —"
"Molly!" Crys cried thankfully as she spotted them at the
end of the hallway. "And Gideon," she added with even more
relief, strolling down the hallway to link her arm with
Molly's. "We thought the two of you must have decided you
didn't want to be Peter's godparents after all and run
away together!"
Molly gave a disbelieving snort at this possible scenario,
not even daring to look at Gideon Webber for his own
reaction to the remark. She was easily able to guess at
the derision that would be curling those arrogant lips.
Especially as she was wearing a shade of pink that clashed
with her red hair!
Damn him for telling her that; she now felt decidedly
uncomfortable in the suit, what little confidence the
champagne had given her evaporating like mist.
But she still had the christening and the rest of the day
to get through yet. After that she could scream and stamp
her feet in the privacy of the guest bedroom on the third
floor above them!
She and Crystal had been friends since schooldays, going
their separate ways careerwise after that. Crys had become
a first-class chef before opening and running a successful
restaurant, as well as appearing in her own cookery
programme, and Molly had chosen to go into acting.
Crys had also married three and a half years ago, that
marriage tragically coming to an end when her husband,
James, died of cancer only months later. But to Molly's
delight Crys had met and married Molly's stepbrother Sam
almost two years ago, and the couple now had three-month-
old Peter James. Hence this christening, three days before
Christmas.
The only fly in the ointment — in fact the only cloud on
Molly's present horizon! — was that Sam and Crys had asked
her previous brother-in-law, James's older brother Gideon,
to be one of Peter's godfathers. An honour, Crys had
informed Molly happily, he had been only too pleased to
accept.
Which had put Molly in something of a quandary. She didn't
have happy memories of her one and only meeting with
Gideon Webber, and she was sure his own feelings towards
her were somewhat less than cordial. But as she had
already been asked by Sam and Crys to be Peter's
godmother, and had readily accepted, she could hardly turn
round and tell them she had changed her mind because
Gideon Webber was one of the godfathers, now, could she?
Of course she couldn't, and so she had armed herself with
every feminine weapon she could think of to give her the
self-confidence she needed to face the man: new hairstyle,
professional make-up, new clothes and shoes. Even a
surreptitious glass of champagne to give her an extra
boost! She just hadn't taken into account the fact that
Gideon Webber, like his younger brother, was an interior
designer. And that he would instinctively know she was
wearing a shade of pink that didn't go with her red hair!
But at least Crys had interrupted the exchange, and spared
her any further insults from the man.
In the rush that followed their mass departure, Molly
found herself in a car with her stepfather on the way to
the church in this ruggedly beautiful part of Yorkshire
where Crys and Sam lived most of the time now. Her mother
and the second godfather had elected to travel with Gideon
Webber in his dark green Jaguar, and Sam and Crys were
travelling separately with Peter James.
Merlin, Sam's Irish Wolfhound and Peter James's guardian
from the very first day the baby had arrived home from the
hospital where he had been born, sat forlornly on the
driveway, watching their departure with the obvious
intention of waiting there until they returned with his
precious charge.
"Matthew, what is Mum wearing today?" Molly prompted
casually.
"Wearing?" Matthew repeated frowningly as he concentrated
on following Sam's car the short distance to the church.
"Yes — wearing," Molly confirmed dryly. "As in colour?"
she added helpfully.
Her stepfather's frown deepened as he obviously gave the
question some thought. "Well," he finally said
consideringly, "it's a sort of blue thing. Or possibly
green. A dress, I think. Or it might be a jacket and
skirt. In any case, I'm almost certain it's blue or
green," he added, with a decisive nod of his head.
Molly had already seen her mother on her arrival a little
over an hour ago, and knew for a fact that the 'blue or
green' suit, of whatever description, was actually a dress
and long jacket in a beautiful shade of turquoise. Which,
to most men, probably could be described as 'blue or
green'...!