tried to give him what she knew he needed. “I apologize for blundering in on your private call.”
His eyes burned with disdain. “There’s never any goddamned privacy around here.”
Kathi steadied herself with a deep breath. “We’ve discussed this, Bishop. Your library is off-limits to everyone except during the morning cleaning.”
“I think it’s bugged.”
“Bugged?” She put a hand to her chest in shock. “Are you serious?”
Eyes narrowed and red, he paced past her, then back again. “I don’t know. But I feel exposed in there.”
She couldn’t credit such a thing, but she would not take chances. “Shall I have it examined?”
His teeth sawed together, and he glared at her. “Do you have an answer for every fucking thing? Damn it, don’t you ever get rattled?”
“Well, of course.” She touched his arm, and, despite his coldness toward her, she felt the fine, masculine hair there, the warmth of his skin. He was a handsome, powerful man, and she protected what was hers. “But I want to be here for you always. It’s my role to do whatever I can to help you—”
“Christ, woman,” he shouted at her, jerking free of her touch yet again. “You fucking smother me.”
She started to apologize again, but held back at the look he leveled on her. “Who is missing?”
He narrowed his eyes and almost as an accusation said, “Molly was taken.”
Kathi backed up a step. “Taken? What do you mean?”
“You run the house,” he told her. “You tell me.”
Bewildered, she shook her head. “Your daughter doesn’t live here. She’s not under my jurisdiction, so I have no idea—”
“That was sarcasm, damn it.”
“I see.” His temper was ripe today, scorching her.
Not bothering to hide his disgust, he pushed past her. “But one would think you could keep up with your stepdaughters at the very least. If you had, then maybe I wouldn’t have been taken off guard.”
And with that, Bishop stormed through the bedroom and, Kathi knew, out of the house.
He hadn’t said if Molly was okay or not, leaving her to wonder.
She took a moment to compose herself, but no more than a moment. Regardless of this unfortunate turn, she had duties for the day and she would never allow her own emotions to keep her from those responsibilities. Too many people depended on her. She would attend her yoga class as scheduled.
But first … first she had a phone call to make. And unlike her husband, she never did so without the privacy needed.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
AS MOLLY HURRIED UP the stairs, her thoughts churning over what Dare had said and his promise for the night, a fantastic change in her plot occurred to her. That’s how her writing went—she got inspiration from everywhere, and Dare certainly inspired her muse in remarkable ways. So far, there was more sex in this book than in any of her others.
Her dad would abhor that, but she’d bet Kathi would appreciate the new scenes. Most of her readers seemed to enjoy a little steam now and then.
Since meeting Dare, she could understand why.
Closing the door to the stairs, Molly leaned back and grinned.
“Is that a look of satisfaction?”
She jumped at the intrusion. Somehow she’d forgotten all about Chris. “What? No. I mean …”
He laughed at her.
“You’re terrible,” she accused without any real insult. “Actually, I just worked out a plot problem, that’s all.”
“Mmm. Is that what they’re calling it these days?”
She opened her mouth, but could think of nothing witty to say. “Where’s my stuff?”
“I put the bags in the room you’re using upstairs.” His smile never wavered. “So, where’s Dare?”
“Taking a shower. He said he’d be up in twenty minutes.” That didn’t leave her much time. She wanted to get the words down before Dare finished. “I, um …” She edged away. “I need to go write.”
“Have at it.” Chris saluted her and went back to unloading some groceries.
Forty minutes and six pages later, Molly saved her file and returned to the kitchen. Chris was at the computer, but looked up to smile at her as she entered. “You done?”
She nodded. “For now.”
Dare stood at the stove, cracking eggs into a bowl. They shared a look. “Chris said you were writing.”
“My muse takes some wild jumps, and good plot twists just occur to me. I like to get it on paper while the idea is fresh in my mind.”
Chris sat back in his chair. “Am I old enough to hear the details?”
“Sorry, no.” He was teasing again, but Molly answered with a writer’s seriousness. “I never, ever talk about my stories while I’m writing them. It dilutes my creative energy.”
“We can’t have that.” Chris laced his fingers behind his neck and stretched. “So, how long will it be before I can buy a copy?”
“A year, at least.” It amazed Molly how comfortable she felt with them both already. She took a seat at the bar. “After I turn it in, which won’t be for a while yet, it has to go through production. But when it’s done, I’ll give you an autographed copy if you want.”
“Really?” Chris dropped his arms and leaned forward. “If you’re serious, that’d be great.”
“I owe you anyway, for driving into town for me today.”
Dare poured his egg mixture onto a hot griddle. “You going to sign one to me, too?”
Why Dare’s question made her blush, Molly couldn’t say. She looked down at her hands. “If you want, I’d be happy to.” The thought of Dare reading her both pleased and worried her. His opinion mattered, a lot.
“Molly?”
When she looked up at him, he said, “I’m going to pick up your other books, too.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
He flashed her an intimate smile. “You’ve got me curious.”
Aware of Chris watching them, Molly cleared her throat. “What I meant is that I have my own stash of author copies, so you don’t need to buy them. When I get back to my apartment, I can package some up and mail them to you.”
