that was a bad thing. If he had a nickel for every time he’d wished he didn’t have a father, money would never have been an issue. “Lack of male influence is all the more reason to let him help me.”
Molly’s frown deepened. “So you pay attention to a lonely little boy. What happens to him when you walk out of his life? And you will.”
Where did she get off judging him? They’d just met. He stared down at her. “Even if that’s true, and you can’t know it is, isn’t some positive male influence even for a short time better than none at all?”
Her full mouth tightened for a moment. “From personal experience, I’d have to say no.”
“Oo-kay.” He blew out a long breath.
Now what? The school director had made it clear that because her classroom was involved in the renovation, he had to coordinate schedules with this teacher. First, he had to find out what was bugging her, then figure out how to fix it.
“Look, Molly, like you said, I’ve come at a bad time. Maybe it would be best to discuss this when you’re not so busy with kids.”
“You’re right. This isn’t a good time.”
Stubborn as a mule. But it looked good on her, in spite of her attitude from hell. It made him want to lean over and touch his mouth to hers—to shock the stubborn right out of her.
“Okay. Not a good time. We finally agree on something.” He rubbed his hands together. “How about this? I’ll take you out for dinner and we can—”
She held up her hand. “No way.”
He wanted to ask why not, but decided not to go there. Compromise and negotiation. “Then how about a drink after work?”
“I don’t think so. Any discussion would be best conducted here on school grounds.”
He recognized a shutdown when he saw it, and he would admit to some ego. Women had always paid attention to him, which had made for a bitter lesson when he’d learned that attention and respect for who he really was were two very different things. It was a mistake he wouldn’t repeat. But that was personal. This was business; he was good at business. He knew when someone was giving him the business. The question was…why? Molly Preston was a puzzle he couldn’t wrap his mind around. But she was about to learn he’d invented the word stubborn.
He nodded. “When would be a good time to talk?”
Her look said when the devil ice-skated in hell, but she answered, “The children are all supposed to be picked up by six o’clock.”
“Then I’ll see you at six sharp.”
She opened her mouth to say something but he moved toward the door, refusing to give her a chance to stonewall him. Right now he needed to have a word with the preschool director. Maybe Mrs. Farris could shed some light on the mystifying Molly Preston.
After leaving her classroom, he crossed the courtyard and entered the administration building where Molly’s boss happened to be standing by the desk in the reception area. She was blond, attractive, probably in her early to mid-fifties, and trim.
He stopped in front of her. “Hi.”
She smiled. “You’re already finished? Obviously you and Molly work well together.”
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.”
The woman frowned. “Uh-oh. No one wants to talk if everything’s okay.”
“Yeah. You got that right.”
“There was a problem with Molly?”
He nodded. “Apparently I rub her the wrong way.”
“I’m stunned. She’s not your typical stubborn redhead. I’ve never known her to be anything but easygoing and mellow. Molly gets along with everyone.”
“Then apparently I’m her first,” he said ruefully. “I tried to talk to her about the building schedule, I think I got on her bad side. Somehow.”
Mrs. Farris looked surprised. “I don’t get it. If anyone would understand the importance of building schedules, it’s Molly.”
“Why’s that?”
“Molly’s father is a home builder. You may have heard of him. Carter Richmond, of Richmond Homes.”
“But I thought her last name was Preston?”
“That’s her married name.”
Des felt as if he’d just been hit by a big steel wrecking ball. Her maiden name gave him the missing piece of the puzzle and the picture wasn’t pretty.
He was the guy who’d done her wrong.
Chapter Two
Standing across the courtyard, Des watched Molly safely hand off the last of her kids to an authorized adult. He’d been waiting there for half an hour. Heaven forbid he was thirty seconds late; she’d be so out of there to avoid him. Which wasn’t a disaster, really. It would simply delay the inevitable. Because he would talk to her. When he did, he would up the wattage on his charm. It had only failed him once, a personal failure he didn’t intend to repeat. Dealing with Molly was business, and from now on he was all business, all the time.
Unfortunately, he had his work cut out for him with Molly. He wasn’t proud of how he’d broken things off with her in high school, but that wasn’t the worst. Had she told her father she’d seen him with another girl, prompting the man to tell her everything? It was supposed to be their secret, part of the agreement he’d made with Carter Richmond. But Des had no idea how low the man could stoop.
Clearly Molly hadn’t forgiven him for what she did know. If, by some miracle, she was in the dark about the rest, he’d be an idiot to bring it up. Right now he was looking at major damage control, which would no doubt include a long-overdue apology. He needed Molly on his side.
When she started back into her classroom, he walked quickly across the courtyard. “Wait, Molly.”
Her spine went as straight as a two-by-four just before she turned to face him. “You’re back.”
“I said I’d be here at six sharp,” he answered, noting the way the pulse in her neck fluttered like crazy.
“So you did.” Her tone was as starchy as her body.
It didn’t take a mental giant to read between the lines and figure out she hadn’t expected him to keep his word. Why should she after what he’d done? Or maybe she’d simply been hoping he’d give up and go away. If so, she was about to find out how wrong she was. She might seem stiff and uncooperative on the outside, but her pounding pulse told him that Miss Molly Preston was as nervous as a roofer with vertigo.
Charm don’t fail me now, he thought. “Look, Molly, I need to apologize to you.”
“Oh?” One auburn eyebrow rose.
“I was a jerk—”
