only protective but almost fatherly. If her father had stuck around long enough, maybe he’d have felt the same way. “Why would you think Devin would give me trouble?” she asked quietly.
“I don’t trust him. He’s got shifty eyes.”
She knew he meant well, but at twenty-eight, Molly didn’t think she needed quite so much protection. Nevertheless, she owed Hank a lot. Stepping close, she put her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his.
“Thanks, for everything.”
“Yeah, sure.” Somewhat embarrassed, he climbed behind the wheel.
Molly watched them drive off, then hurried back inside. She still had a lot to do to make that small apartment into a home.
From his upstairs window, Devin stood looking down. He’d seen Hank glare up at his place, guessing he’d then issued a warning to Molly about him. Over what, he couldn’t imagine. Apparently it hadn’t bothered her for she’d given Hank a big fat hug.
Stepping back, he stuck his hands in his pockets, annoyed with himself. Why should he care who Molly Shipman hugged? To be fair, she’d hugged the kid, too. She’d stiffened each time he’d touched her yesterday, but she hugged these two freely. Because she knew them well, he decided.
Maybe he’d get to know her well, too. He wouldn’t mind taking her in his arms, holding her close, feeling her heart beat against his. No denying it, she intrigued him. A man couldn’t spend every spare minute working. He’d operate on the reward system, he decided. He wouldn’t allow himself to check on Molly until he’d finished the chapter that was halfway completed. No guilt that way.
Whistling, he went back to his office.
Sunday morning just before ten, after putting in three less-than-fruitful hours on his novel that suddenly wasn’t going all that well, Devin decided to ride his Harley to the nearby strip mall and pick up the L.A. Times. He felt nostalgic about his hometown newspaper.
Jogging down the steps, he decided he’d pick up some bagels and coffee to see if he could tempt Molly with some breakfast. He’d be willing to bet she was so busy settling in that she’d forgotten to eat.
Leaning over the fence, he rubbed King’s head briefly, not feeling guilty about leaving him behind since he’d taken the dog on a half-hour run around six. As he unlocked his Harley, he saw a vintage blue Cadillac drive up, its horn honking away.
Two women got out, one on the chubby side and dark-haired, the other older and very blond, artificially so most likely, Devin thought. A curly-headed girl of five or six climbed out of the back and squealed Molly’s name. Molly stepped off the porch, looking surprised. “Samantha!” she cried.
The child hugged her aunt happily. “Mom says you’ve got cable TV now. Does that mean Disney, Aunt Molly?”
“You bet it does, sweetheart.” Molly smiled down at her pug-nosed niece.
“She probably hasn’t had time to get someone to hook it up yet, Sam,” the girl’s mother said.
“I hooked it up myself,” Molly informed her sister, then moved to take a large pan from her mother. “What’s all this, Mom?”
Gloria Shipman withdrew a box from the back seat before answering. “It’s roast chicken and vegetables. I just know you won’t take the time to eat right.” She held up the box. “And chocolate chip cookies.”
“Mmm,” Sam murmured. “We’re having a welcome-to-your-new-home party, Aunt Molly.”
“What a terrific idea.” Although she still had a long list of things that needed doing, Molly smiled her welcome. It was so seldom that the four of them got together, mostly due to her busy schedule. “Let’s go inside. I’ve got coffee made.”
Though he felt a little overwhelmed by four females all at one time, Devin couldn’t very well retrace his steps and sneak upstairs, nor could he continue to stand there staring. As unobtrusively as possible, he walked his Harley down the drive, giving a wide berth to the new arrivals.
But he wasn’t fast enough to escape the notice of an inquisitive little girl. “Wow, a motorcycle!” Samantha abandoned Molly and ran over. “Is it yours? Will you take me for a ride?”
“Sam!” The child’s mother hurried over to clamp her hands on her daughter’s shoulder. “What have I told you time and again about talking to strangers?”
Looking more mischievous than repentant, Sam was ready with an excuse. “He’s not really a stranger if he’s in Molly’s yard, is he?”
Aware of her precocious niece’s friendliness, Molly went over, still carrying the pan her mother brought. “Actually, he’s not, Lucy. He’s my neighbor, just moved in upstairs.” Quickly, she introduced her family.
Devin acknowledged each of them, noting that Molly didn’t resemble any of the three. Her sister and niece had dark hair and eyes, as did her mother despite the obvious fact that Gloria Shipman dyed her short hair even blonder than Molly’s. Both women were several inches shorter and full-figured whereas Molly could be described as tall and willowy. She must take after her father, he decided.
“It’s good to know you’ll be living here with my daughter,” Gloria Shipman said, her approving gaze roaming his tall frame. “Not that this is a bad neighborhood, but a woman alone can’t be too careful.” Her smile was just short of flirtatious.
She can’t help herself, Molly thought, for the umpteenth time. An attractive woman in her youth, Gloria still turned on the charm for every man she met, young or old, tall or short, rich or poor. She basked in the glow of attention from men as much as Molly turned from it.
Molly sent an apologetic look to Devin, but she needn’t have bothered. He’d read Gloria like a book.
“I agree, Mrs. Shipman. I’ll certainly keep an eye on your daughter.” He turned his attention to Sam whose wide eyes were checking out the chrome of his Harley. “It’s not safe for someone as young and pretty as you to ride one of these without a helmet, and I don’t have one small enough to fit you. Maybe one day, we’ll pick one up. Okay?”
“You mean it? Great.” Sam’s mind raced with possibilities. “Is that your dog?” she asked next, spotting King who was pacing along the fence.
“Yeah, but I’d rather you didn’t go over to him until I take you to meet him, and I don’t have time right now. Is that all right?”
Reluctantly, Sam nodded. “Okay.”
Molly had to hand it to Devin. He’d appeased the daughter without upsetting the mother. His people skills, which hadn’t charmed Hank, were more in evidence today.
Her head cocked, Molly’s sister Lucy had been studying the man with the Harley. “Did Molly say your name is Devin Gray? Are you the Devin Gray who wrote Murder at Oak Creek Canyon? You are, aren’t you? I recognize you from the picture on the back of the dust cover.”
Devin seemed embarrassed. “I guess you caught me.”
Lucy’s round face moved into a big smile as she turned to her sister. “I’ll bet you didn’t even know that this man’s famous?”
Molly
