Finders Keepers Part 17

"Oh G.o.d," she moaned, and shoved away from the mirror. "I could sleep for a year."

"Molly! Where are my gray sweats?"

Joseph's bellow echoed down the hall and into the bath off the kitchen. She stuck her tongue out in the general direction of his yell, and muttered under her breath, "Probably right where you left them yesterday."

"Molly!" he bellowed again.

"Coming," she shouted, and started toward his room when Joey came barreling down the hallway wearing his tricycle helmet and a pair of red pajamas.

"Joey, look out!" Molly dodged as the toddler nearly sideswiped her.

"Not Joey," he shouted, "I'm a Power Ranger," then hopped into a fighting stance and gave a fairly credible karate kick that landed him on his rear.

Molly would have laughed if her face hadn't been too tired to change positions. Instead she stepped around the mighty mite and headed for Joseph's room.

"You shouted?" she asked.

He had the grace to flush. "I couldn't find my sweats."

That he was now wearing them was obvious. She eyed the soft gray fabric covering his long legs as well as the matching s.h.i.+rt dangling from his fingers. Her gaze swept across his bare brown chest, noting that nearly all signs of his spots were gone, and the few that were left were swiftly disappearing.

His hair was loose and a little s.h.a.ggy around his ears, thanks to missing an appointed haircut, and the dimple on his cheek kept coming and going with regularity as he waited for her forgiveness.

"I'm sorry, honey," he said. "I guess calling for you has become a habit." His voice lowered, and his eyes darkened. "One to which I could very well become addicted."

Oh Joseph...if you only knew. I'm already hooked on the both of you. Please...please...please...don't let me go.

But he made no other declaration, and she managed a smile. Before she could aim their discussion into deeper territory, the doorbell rang and interrupted the moment.

"Door!" Joey shouted, and made a run across the hall.

But his bicycle helmet had slipped sideways, partially blocking his view, and he ran into the corner of the wall instead. It startled him more than it hurt, but when he hit the floor, he started to wail. Molly slid him out of his "magic helmet" and fished him up off the floor.

"Good gracious," she said. "I didn't think Power Rangers cried. They're too tough, right?"

He sniffed as the doorbell rang again, uncertain whether to succ.u.mb to self-pity or relate to the facts according to Molly.

Molly balanced him on one hip as she headed for the door. Rounding the corner as she entered the living room, she could feel the half-hitched ponytail she'd made of her hair coming down, and only then did she remember she still had not removed the jam kiss from her face.

She swung the door wide to find Marjorie Weeks on the front step, silently glaring, waiting to be admitted.

Oh, no, Molly thought. She looks mad as an old wet hen.

Joey wiggled on her hip, clutched a fistful of her hair, then buried his face against the curve of her neck and started to cry.

"Molly! Who is it?" Joseph bellowed from the back of the house.

For Molly, it was all too much.

"They've had the chicken pox," Molly said, and began to sob.

Marjorie took one look at the shadows beneath Molly's eyes, the tears flowing freely, the state of the house, the child in her arms, and knew that everything she'd ever thought about this woman had been unjust. She'd gone above and beyond the call of a next-door neighbor's duty.

"Here," she said shortly, ignoring Joey's wail. "Give him to me." She yanked the thumb from his mouth, kissed his cheek, and whispered the words "ice cream" into his ear. Startled by the unexpected offer of a treat so early in the day, he instantly hushed.

Joseph came into the room in time to see Marjorie yank Joey from Molly's arms. He was dumb-struck. What had happened to his Molly? She was crying.

"Now, now," Marjorie said, as Joey began to fidget. "In a minute, child. Right now, we'd better take care of Molly. She looks exhausted!" She fixed Molly with a steely gaze, daring her to argue with the authority she'd just usurped. "How long has it been since you slept?"

Molly sniffed, tried to remember and couldn't. The tears came faster. "I can't remember," she sobbed, and sank weakly into a chair by the door.

"That's just what I thought," Marjorie said. "Here," she said, handing Joey to his father. "Go do something. Surely you have some ice cream or something that will pacify this child for a while. I've got to get this poor girl to bed."

Joseph stood openmouthed, his son in hand, and watched as his secretary hustled Molly out of the room. Although Marjorie had never been inside his house, she headed for his bedroom with unerring accuracy. Joseph didn't even pause to wonder how she knew where to go. There was nothing that woman ever did that surprised him.

And then it dawned on him that he should offer to help. He quickly settled Joey in the kitchen with some cookies and milk, and headed for his room. He could have saved himself the trip. Marjorie was posted at the door with a grim expression on her face that brooked no arguments.

"No, you don't," she said, as he started inside. "The poor girl is already asleep. What did you two do to her? I've never seen anyone so exhausted in my life!"

Guilt overwhelmed him. He hadn't realized how much she'd given of herself, and just for them.

"I didn't think..."

Marjorie huffed and rolled her eyes. "Men never do."

But she'd had her say. She rolled up her sleeves, eyed the clutter and dust, and headed for the kitchen. "Where's the vacuum?" she asked over her shoulder.

Joseph hastened to comply. He would swear later that he never knew what hit him. Before he'd realized it, Marjorie had set up a temporary office inside his home and had him returning calls and rescheduling appointments. He even found time to finish the drawings he'd started before he'd gotten sick.

"Silliest excuse I ever heard," she kept muttering, as she ran dust rag and child around the house. "Everyone has the chicken pox. It's no big deal. Men have no sense. No sense at all."

Joseph flushed, finally admitting to himself that his self-imposed quarantine had been motivated entirely from too much macho.

All sorts of guilt kept surfacing as Marjorie set the Rossi house back to rights. She couldn't help remembering what she'd imagined had been going on in here, and then comparing it with the actual events. Granted, she'd been wrong, but it hadn't happened often enough in her lifetime for her to be too concerned about the consequences. But what she was doing now wasn't wrong. She was fixing everything, and that was all that mattered.

"Do you think she's okay?" Joseph asked for the third time in two hours as he pa.s.sed the door to his bedroom.

Marjorie nodded as she shooed him on by. "If she's already had the chicken pox, then the only thing wrong with her is she's exhausted. And"-she fixed him with a hard, pointed stare-"I'd better not catch anyone trying to wake her up. She's only been asleep six hours. The last I heard, she was behind seven days' worth. It'll take her a while. Go make some calls or draw something," she suggested, waving him away, "If I need you, I'll let you know."

"Yes, ma'am," Joseph said, and grinned, knowing when to leave well enough alone.

It was much later that night, when Marjorie had finally given up and gone home with a firm promise to be back early the next morning, that Joseph dared tiptoe into his own room.

He walked inside, looking at it from a much different perspective than the one he'd occupied for the last week. The room was dark, and looked much larger and less confining now that he wasn't tied to his bed by fever and lethargy. But his bed was another matter altogether. Molly was in it, and she looked so small and helpless it made him hurt. She'd wrapped herself into a ball and was sleeping so soundly that Joseph had to lean over and listen just to a.s.sure himself she was still breathing.

As if sensing his nearness, she stirred, then her mouth parted, and a small, nearly nonexistent sigh escaped. Her eyelids twitched, and a tiny muscle jerked at the corner of her lips. Joseph smiled gently. She was dreaming.

He knew Marjorie had gone home for the night, but he couldn't resist a glance over his shoulder, just to make sure, before he crawled into his bed.

Gently, so as not to awaken her, he slid his arm under Molly's head. She sighed and turned in his arms almost instantly, then threw a leg across his lower body, buried her face against the breadth of his chest, and settled.

Joseph's hold tightened in reflex, and then loosened almost as quickly. She was here-in his arms. She wasn't going anywhere. And as long as Molly loved him, neither was he.

Daylight came slowly, seeping beneath the s.p.a.ce between the window shade and sill, sliding through and spilling down onto the floor like melted b.u.t.ter.

Molly watched, unwilling to move from the warmth of Joseph's embrace. From the sounds of traffic on the street outside the house, she judged it to be well past 8:00. She'd lived in this neighborhood so long that she knew almost to the minute who was leaving for work, and in what car.

The neighbors across the street had a teenager who drove a car with a faulty m.u.f.fler. He always overslept and waited until the last possible moment before leaving for school, gunning his engine as he roared down the street toward cla.s.s.

The man in the house on the corner was fanatic about his morning ritual. He was always ready at least thirty minutes ahead of his wife, who also rode to work with him, and spent at least fifteen of those thirty minutes on their front porch yelling back into the house for her to hurry, that they were going to be late.

Knowing where one belonged was a comforting feeling and Molly knew good and well where she belonged: in Joseph's arms.

He moaned and then s.h.i.+fted, automatically pulling her closer against him as he resisted the urge his body clock was giving him to wake up.

Molly's heart caught, tugging at her conscience to remind her that all of this was still a conditional relations.h.i.+p. There'd been no declaration of anything more than love between them. She wanted more, much more. Molly wanted flowers and promises, some vows and a ring. She wanted forever.

Refusing, for the moment, to face the new day, she squeezed her eyes tighter and snuggled just the least bit closer against the curve of his lap. It felt so right to be held in this man's arms. And then a small, unexpected tear slid out the corner of her left eye and across the bridge of her nose, but she pretended it wasn't there. She wouldn't waste a moment in Joseph's arms with what-ifs.

Joseph lay quietly, feeling the change of tension as it came and went in her body. He knew she was awake. He'd felt her breathing change moments ago. It had almost been his undoing. Unaware of how closely they'd become attuned to each other's presence, he hadn't expected to feel the catch of muscles in her stomach as it contracted on a quiet sob. And when it had happened, it had been all he could do not to echo with a matching one of his own.

It was still a constant source of surprise to him that he'd let another woman get under his skin. After Carly Jordan, he'd been convinced that his trust of the female s.e.x was all but dead. But that was before he'd been tempted by a woman from the Garden of Eden. He smiled to himself. If Eve had been anything like Molly, then it was no wonder the first Adam had met with a downfall.

His body stirred, a response to the warmth of her hips against the curve of his lap, and he was in the middle of considering the costs of starting something with Molly he might not be able to finish, when he heard sounds from across the hall. Joey was awake. He also knew, from experience, that it was not wise to linger abed and let him prowl the house alone. While Joey couldn't get outside-Joseph had long since taken care of that ever happening again-the kitchen and all that it offered was still fair game to an unsupervised child of nearly three. He groaned, planted a regretful kiss carefully in the middle of the tangle of Molly's curls resting just beneath his chin, and rolled out of bed.

The sweats that he'd slept in were only slightly wrinkled and none the worse for wear. He scratched at a lingering scab on his neck as he went in search of his son.

The few remaining spots he had were little more than dry, itchy places. Joey's had disappeared earlier, probably because of the constant oatmeal baths that he'd oddly adored. There was nothing for Joseph to do but get back to work-and that meant calling Marjorie and heading her off at the pa.s.s before she reappeared and began rearranging the rest of his life.

He entered the kitchen and caught Joey in the midst of climbing onto a cabinet to get to the cereal. "Hey, buddy, where's my morning hug?"

The cereal was momentarily forgotten as Joey jumped off the cabinet and into his father's waiting arms.

A few minutes later, Marjorie Weeks rang the doorbell, and Joseph smiled as he let her in the house, stifling a sigh as he closed the door behind her. He'd forgotten to make that call. He followed her into the kitchen like a whipped pup.

"How is she?" Marjorie asked, swiping at a spilled milk on the table with one hand, and yanking Joey's thumb from his mouth with the other.

Joseph grinned. "She's fine...still asleep, I think. I was trying to get this guy fed without too much noise. I think I'll take him to day care today and try to get back to the office."

Marjorie frowned, hating to give up the tenuous toehold she'd made into this trio's life.

"I don't know, you wouldn't want him to overdo and have a relapse," she warned, all the while wondering how a child could have such an angelic smile and so many small devils dancing in those dark brown eyes.

"Dr. Marr called yesterday," Joseph said. "He's already given the go-ahead. And believe me, if I have to stay cooped up in this house another day with him, I'll be the one having the relapse." He ruffled Joey's hair and then smiled as Marjorie absently smoothed what he'd done to it back in place.

"You're the boss," Marjorie said. "I'll see you at the office later." With a regretful glance back at the pair standing hand in hand in the kitchen door, she waved and left.

Joseph waited until he heard her car leave the driveway. Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief. But Joey seemed to feel differently about his secretary's absence. He wore a frown beneath the remnants of his cereal. Joseph knelt down until he and his son were nose to nose, heads b.u.t.ting, and tickled Joey's stomach playfully as he spoke.

"I think you have a new champion," he said. "Mrs. Weeks seems to like you a lot."

"Nanny," Joey said succinctly.

Joseph had no words for his shock. His mouth quirked at the corner, and he tried desperately not to laugh. It would seem that his secretary and his son had shared a lot more yesterday than he'd been aware of.

"Nanny, hunh?" he said, and pretended to fall backward as Joey punched him on the shoulder in a mock-tough blow. He grabbed him and, together, they rolled over and over across the kitchen floor, ignoring the dry bits of sugar-coated cereal that caught in their clothes and hair.

Molly stood in the doorway, watching the hilarity un.o.bserved, and when her heart hurt too much to breathe, she slipped back into bed, pulled the covers over her head, and pretended to sleep.

Unaware of being observed, Joseph managed to dress himself as well as Joey without making too much commotion. Certain that he'd accomplished a miracle by leaving her asleep, he left for work, leaving behind nothing of their presence but the crushed remnants of cereal on the gray tile floor.

Molly heard them pull away, and only then did she crawl out of bed and into her clothes. For the first time in over a week, she walked out of his house and across the lawn toward her own. There was a heavy frost from the night before, and the gra.s.s crunched beneath her feet. She blinked and sniffed, blaming her runny nose on the sharp, cold wind blowing in her face and not on the growing pain inside her chest.

Joseph slammed the phone down in disgust, aware that for the past two days, the only contact that he and Molly'd had with each other was through their answering machines.

He knew that Christmas was one of the busiest seasons at her florist shop. And Molly knew that because of being sick, Joseph was so far behind in his own work that he carried it home each night in an effort to catch up.

Nearly a week had pa.s.sed since he'd returned to the office, and in that time, he'd felt Molly pulling away from the center of his life. Each time he'd broach the subject of her coming over, she seemed to have a reason for postponing the visit. There was a distance between them that hadn't been there, and he was beginning to think that while they'd been ill, Molly had gotten sick of their demands, that she no longer wanted to be a part of their lives.

It was his secretary who finally brought things to a head and made him rea.s.sess his earlier conclusions.

"I haven't seen your Molly in days," she said, as she laid a sheaf of letters on his desk to be signed.

"Neither have I," he said, and then shrugged. "Busy season and all that, I suppose."

Marjorie snorted. "No one is that busy," she said. "Did you thank her for taking care of you and Joey-like sending flowers, or candy or such?"

Joseph flushed. It had never occurred to him to do anything so formal as that.

He shrugged. "No...I didn't think..."

Marjorie threw her hands into the air. "Men never do. If you don't mind my saying so," she said, not waiting to hear if he minded or not, "I think something along those lines would be appropriate. Of course, flowers might not be the thing. Sending flowers to a florist is a bit redundant. You might consider..."

Joseph held up his hands in surrender. He recognized the look on his secretary's face. "I get the message," he said.

"I'll baby-sit, if needed," she offered, and bustled out of the room before he could argue.

Joseph couldn't wipe the smile off his face. Leaving Mississippi had possibly been the smartest thing he'd done in years. Once in his life he'd had no one. And now he was as near to a ready-made family as a man could ever hope to get.

But there was something he needed to do before he got down to the business of begging Molly's forgiveness. There was some old business in his life that needed to be put away for good. He wanted the business of Carly Jordan out of their lives forever.

He hit the b.u.t.ton on the intercom. "Marjorie...get my travel agent on the phone. Book me a flight to Natchez, Mississippi, as soon as possible. I've got some business to tend to, and I want it over and done with before the holidays."

Marjorie smiled. "Yes, sir," she said. "And do you want me to make an appointment with your lawyer in Natchez while I'm at it-just in case he's planning to take off early for Christmas?"

Oh Lord, Joseph thought, she reads minds, too. "Yes, please," he said. "The number is on my-"

"I have it right here," she said.