If he had any thoughts of backing out of their agreement, she wanted him to know exactly what he was rejecting.
An hour later, she descended the stairs carefully, her wrapped gift in one hand, gripping the railing with the other. She looked hot, if she did say so herself. But her hotness quotient would be eliminated if she tripped in her four-inch heels and stumbled on the curved staircase. She also might damage the album she’d so carefully created for Aunt Sarah.
Laughter and the hum of conversation told her most of the guests had arrived. Her beauty routine had taken longer than usual, so she was about fifteen minutes late. The results, in her humble opinion, were well worth it.
She’d picked the knit dress off the rack because the moss green exactly matched her eyes. Then she’d tried it on, thinking that the long sleeves, ankle-length skirt and high neck would make it a fairly conservative choice. Oh, no. The dress slithered over her body like a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination.
That alone would have made it sexy as hell, but the skirt was slit up one side to several inches above her knee. She hadn’t noticed that, either, when she’d decided to try it on. Looking at herself in the dressing-room mirror, she’d seen a different Molly Gallagher, a seductive woman capable of driving men out of their minds. This was the dress’s first outing, and after her wild night and stolen afternoon session with Ben, she felt qualified to wear it.
She’d bought teardrop earrings with stones the same color as the dress. She wore no other jewelry. The dress spoke for itself. Her hair was piled on top of her head and she had left a few tendrils dangling in front of her ears.
“Molly?”
She was halfway down the stairs when Ben called her name. She turned and looked over her shoulder. “Hi,” she said. “You look nice.” That was an understatement. He wore a crisp white Western shirt with silver piping that made his shoulders seem wider than ever, and his black dress jeans were sinfully snug.
His black leather belt was intricately tooled, and she wondered if he’d made it. He wore no hat tonight, and his thick hair gleamed in the light from the hallway. The scent of shampoo and shaving lotion drifted down the staircase. She had an almost irresistible urge to climb back up and kiss his smooth jaw. But judging from the heat in his brown eyes, she didn’t dare.
“You look...” He swallowed. “I don’t even know how to describe how you look, Molly. That dress really...it fits you like...I’ve never seen a dress look as good on anybody as that one does on you.”
“Thank you.” It was exactly the response she’d hoped for. She’d never felt more beautiful or desirable in her life.
“Hang on a minute. I’ll walk down with you.” He started toward her.
“Got your harmonica?”
He patted his breast pocket. “Right here. Watkins and Trey are good. I’ll have to bring my A game tonight.”
“From what I heard before, you’ll be fine.” She smiled at him.
He paused and caught his breath. “Damn, Molly. You’re so...damn.”
“What?” She pretended not to know what he meant. But she knew, and exulted in a sexual power she’d never claimed before.
“That dress. It moves when you move. It slides right over your breasts and your sweet little bottom. I don’t—hell, I know it’s unworthy of me, but I don’t want other men to see how great you look.”
“Too late.” Jack stood at the bottom of the stairs with Josie. “Put your eyes back in your damned head, Radcliffe.” He held out his hand. “Come on, Cousin Molly. Let’s go join the party. You look terrific, by the way.”
“Thank you.” She walked down the stairs, took his hand and allowed him to steady her for the last few steps.
“That dress is dynamite,” Josie said.
“Yours isn’t too shabby, either.” Molly admired the ice-blue, long-sleeved sheath that Josie had accented with silver shoes and jewelry. Instead of her usual braid, she’d created an updo that showed off her slender neck. She was a knockout.
Jack gave Josie a possessive once-over. “Not shabby at all,” he said softly. “I’m a lucky man.”
He crooked both arms. “Ladies, make me the envy of every poor slob in the room.”
“I’m honored, Jack.” Molly looked into eyes that glowed with the pride of his Shoshone ancestors. She might as well make her stand now as later. She knew instinctively that he’d respect her for being direct. “But I’m going to wait for Ben.”
Jack’s glance flicked from Molly to Ben, who’d remained standing midway down the staircase. “All right.” He held Ben’s gaze. “Don’t forget our conversation.”
Ben’s voice was steady. “I won’t.”
Jack and Josie walked into the living room and Molly took a shaky breath. Round One. She thought maybe she’d won it, but time would tell.
“Thank you.” Ben descended the last few steps and stood before her. “But you didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I did.” She looked into his eyes. “I’m capable of choosing my own...friends. Jack needs to understand that.”
A smile teased the corners of his mouth. “I’m glad you consider me a friend.”
“I do.” She longed to touch him. But while they were within sight of the front door where anyone could come in and discover them, being affectionate might not be the best plan. “You may not realize it, but you’ve given me enormous confidence.”
“You?” He looked surprised. “You were already confident. You didn’t need me for that.”
“Ah, but you’re wrong.” She lowered her voice. “When you asked me to pirouette for you at the top of the stairs twenty-four hours ago, I wasn’t completely convinced of my sexual power. Thanks to you, now I am.” She stretched out her arms. “Behold the result.”
He laughed, his eyes sparkling. “So as I struggle to make it through this evening of torture, watching you move through the crowd in that incredible dress, I have only myself to blame?”
“Pretty much.”
“In a twisted kind of way, that helps. Shall we go in?”
“Yes.” She linked her arm through his. “I can hardly wait to hear you play.”
“Then know this. Every note will be for you.”
His words ran in a continuous loop in her mind as they walked into the crowded living room. They were the kind of words that could turn a girl’s head. If Ben were a different sort of man, she’d think he’d used them as a seductive line.
But he didn’t need to spout pretty words to get a woman into bed. He’d already accomplished that with her. She’d spent enough time with him, especially quality time in which emotional barriers had come down, to know that he didn’t say anything he didn’t mean.
He’d announced from the beginning that he was the wrong
