"I can't believe it! Why are they doing this? It's not like I'm a big-time children's author."
"This is Chicago, and you're the wife of the city's most famous quarterback. They're using that connection to get air-time. You are still Kevin's wife, aren't you?"
Molly didn't want to get into that discussion again. "Temporarily. Next time remind me to find a publisher with a little backbone." She wished she hadn't said that, since her publisher wasn't the only one who needed some backbone. Once again she reminded herself that she didn't have any choice, not if she wanted to pay her bills.
As if Phoebe had read her mind, she said, "How are you doing for money? I know you haven't-"
"I'm doing fine. No problem." As much as Molly loved her sister, she sometimes wished that everything Phoebe touched hadn't turned to gold. It made Molly feel so inadequate. Phoebe was wealthy, beautiful, and emotionally stable. Molly was poor, merely attractive, and she'd been a lot closer to a nervous breakdown than she'd ever admit. Phoebe had overcome enormous odds to become one of the most powerful owners in the NFL, but Molly couldn't even defend her fictional bunny from a real-life attack.
After she hung up, she chatted with some of the guests, then put fresh towels in the bathrooms while Kevin checked a retired couple from Cleveland into one of the cottages. Afterward she headed to her own cottage so she could change into the red suit he'd bought her and go for a swim.
As she pulled the two-piece suit from the bag, she discovered that the bottom wasn't quite a thong, but since it was held together by only a narrow tie on each side, it was a little skimpier than she liked. The top, however, had an underwire that pushed her up in all the right places, and Roo seemed to approve.
Although the air temperature was in the low eighties, the lake still hadn't warmed up, and the beach was deserted when she got there. She hissed against the cold as she waded in. Roo got his paws wet, then backed off and chased the herons instead. When she couldn't stand the torture any longer, she dove under.
She came up gasping, then began a vigorous sidestroke to keep warm as she caught sight of Kevin standing on the Common. Nine years of summer camp had taught her the importance of the buddy system, but he was near enough that he'd hear her yell if she started to drown.
She flipped to her back and swam for a while, avoiding the deeper water because, no matter what Kevin said, she was an extremely sensible person when it came to water safety. The next time she looked toward the Common, he was standing exactly where he'd been before.
He looked bored.
She waved her arm to catch his attention. He gave her a desultory wave back.
This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.
She dove under and began to think.
Kevin watched Molly in the water while he waited for the garbage company to show up with the new Dumpster. He spotted a flash of crimson as she jackknifed, then dove beneath the surface. Buying that particular swimsuit for her had been a big mistake. It showed way too much of the tempting little body he was having an increasingly hard time ignoring. But the suit's color had caught his eye yesterday in the boutique because it was almost the same shade her hair had been the first time they'd met.
Her hair didn't look that way now. It had only been four days, but she was taking care of herself again, and her hair was the same rich color as the maple syrup he'd poured over the pancakes she'd made. He felt as if he were watching her come back to life. Her skin had lost its pasty look, and her eyes had begun to sparkle, especially when she wanted to give him a hard time.
Those eyes… That wicked slant shouted to the world that she was up to no good, but he seemed to be the only one who got the message. Phoebe and Dan saw brainy Molly, the lover of children, bunnies, and ridiculous dogs. Only he seemed to understand that Molly Somerville's veins had trouble rushing through them instead of blood.
On the flight back to Chicago, Dan had lectured him about how seriously she'd always taken everything. How as a kid she never did anything wrong. What a good student she'd been, a model citizen. He'd said that Molly was twenty-seven going on forty. Twenty-seven going on seven was more like it. No wonder she'd made a career as a children's book author. She was entertaining her peer group!
It galled him that she had the audacity to call him reckless. He'd never have given away fifteen million dollars. As far as he could tell, she didn't know anything about playing it safe.
He saw another flash of red in the water. All those years of summer camp had made her a good swimmer with a steady, graceful stroke. And a nice, neat body… But the last thing he wanted to do was start thinking about her body again, so he thought about the way she made him laugh.
Which didn't mean she wasn't a pain in the butt. She had a lot of nerve trying to poke around in his head, since it was screwed on a lot tighter than hers ever would be.
His eyes flicked back over the lake, but he couldn't see her. He waited for a flash of red. And waited… His shoulders grew tense as the surface remained smooth. He took a step forward. Then her head bobbed up, little more than a dot in the distance. Just before it disappeared again, she managed to shout one faint word.
"Help!"
He started to run.
Molly held her breath as long as she could, then resurfaced to fill her lungs. Sure enough, he'd just thrown himself into the water with a very nice racing dive.
This should get his adrenaline pumping.
She flailed around until she was sure he'd spotted her, then went under again, diving deep and swimming off to her right. It was a rotten thing to do, but it was for the greater good. A bored Kevin was an unhappy Kevin, and it was long past time he had some fun at the Wind Lake Campground. Maybe then he wouldn't be so anxious to sell it.
She surfaced again. Thanks to her crafty underwater change of direction, he was heading too far to the left. She caught another breath and went back under.
As Daphne went under for the third time, Benny swam- Delete that. As Benny went under for the third time, Daphne swam faster and faster…
Being rescued by Daphne would serve Benny right, Molly thought virtuously. He shouldn't have gone swimming without a buddy.
She opened her eyes underwater, but the lake was murky from all the rain, and she couldn't see much. She remembered how squeamish some of her campmates used to be about swimming in a lake instead of a pool-What if a fish bites me?-but Molly had grown used to it after her first summer, and she felt right at home.
Her lungs were starting to burn, and she came up for more air. He was about fifteen yards to her left. She refused to think about the boy and the wolf as she made her next move.
"Help!"
He pivoted in the water, wet blond hair sticking to that superb forehead. "Hold on, Molly!"
"Hurry! I've got a"-hole in my head-"a cramp!" Down she went.
She cut to the right, swam the pattern, headed for the sideline-made ol' Number Eleven work for it.
Her lungs were burning again. Time to resurface near the goal line.
He'd spent two decades picking out receivers in a crowd, and he spotted her instantly. His stroke was powerful, and she got so caught up watching the way he churned through the water that she nearly forgot to go under again.
His hand brushed her thigh, then fastened around the skimpy bottom of her bathing suit.
His hand. On her butt. She should have thought further ahead.
He jerked hard on the suit to pull her to him, and the skimpy pair of ties that were holding it on snapped. He clamped his arm around her and pulled her to the surface.
The bottom part of the suit didn't come along.