She knew perfectly well she wanted more than that. And she would never get it—she’d learned that in another lifetime, and that knowledge stayed with her, even as her memory eluded her.
If she had any sense at all she would just stay in her room, passing the time as best she could until this period of waiting was over.
Unless she was pregnant. The thought came unbidden, and resolutely she pushed it away. That was one problem she would not worry about until she had to. But the period of time before her doctor’s appointment stretched before her as a yawning abyss.
Muffins. She’d brought him muffins and coffee, a peace offering, and he’d thrown them back in her face. He didn’t want peace offerings from her. He didn’t want her sweet and shy, looking up at him as if she were sixteen again and he was everything she’d ever wanted.
He didn’t want to believe in her again. Didn’t want to be seduced by her green-blue eyes and her hurt innocence. She wasn’t innocent, and she wasn’t hurt. And whatever it was she wanted from him, it couldn’t be something he was willing to give.
Pregnant. What a twisted, horrible idea. Fortunately he knew she couldn’t be. They’d run every test known to man on her while she was unconscious in the hospital, including a pregnancy test There was no way she could be carrying somebody’s bastard. She deserved his contempt for even thinking she could pull off a stunt like that.
But still, she never used to cry. When she’d looked at him, tears filling her eyes, he’d known a shaft of pain, sharp and deep, and he’d wanted to touch her, pull her into his arms, soothe and kiss her.
Damn her. And damn him.
He shoved himself away from the desk and headed outside. He needed to get away from here, and from her. Just until he could get his crazy, irrational yearning under control.
He wanted to believe her. That was the craziest part of it all. He wanted to trust her one more time.
He was a fool.
There was no future for them. She’d leave, and he’d get on with his life. Why couldn’t he get that through his stubborn brain?
Of course, what if he was dead wrong? What if she was telling the truth, about her amnesia, about everything? She might really be in danger.
No. That was too much to contemplate. She was a tramp, a scheming little bitch, and if he started believing in her again he deserved everything he got.
He’d made that mistake once before. He wouldn’t make it again.
Some project, Molly decided, was necessary if she was to survive the next twenty-four hours. There was no way she could manage to get a home pregnancy test kit without a lot of explanations, explanations she wasn’t willing to make. If she was going to confine herself to her room, then she needed to do something about making it livable again.
She began clearing the dresser drawers of their meager contents. The mountain of purchases she had made a few days before had been swallowed up in the massive piece of furniture, and she was finished in next to no time. She piled the clothing on the shelves in the similarly bare closet, then began clearing off the tops of dressers, tables and nightstands. Half of the junk she threw out, the rest went into the closet with the clothing. She stripped the bed and carried the dirty linen down to the kitchen and Mrs. Morse.
“What in the world is all that?” Mrs. Morse cried, brandishing a spatula.
“Laundry,” she said briefly. “Could you get Ben and someone else to help me move furniture today? I’ve decided something has to be done about my room.”
“And what furniture were you planning to put in its place?” she demanded.. “I can’t take another day off right now to go shopping.”
“I want all my furniture from the attic,” she answered her, helping herself to another cup of coffee. “I don’t care what happens to the junk in my room—we can throw it out for all I care. I just want the room to look as it used to.”
Her stern face softened. “Well, I’ve got no quarrel with that. It just about broke my heart when you did that to your pretty little room. All those fancy drapes and everything—they don’t belong in a house like this. I’m just glad Patrick put his foot down when you wanted to tear up the old oak flooring.”
“So am I,” she said in a subdued voice.
“Go on ahead, then, dearie. I’ll get you some breakfast. Coffee and muffins aren’t enough to keep a body going. And next time you get up early, remember to turn off the oven when you’ve finished using it.”
“Did I forget?” She blushed faintly, as if caught doing something naughty. “I’ll try to remember next time.”
“See that you do. Now sit down and I’ll be with you in a minute.”
Ben arrived a few minutes later, accompanied by Toby. “Just the people we want to see!” Mrs. Morse greeted them as they entered. “Molly needs some furniture moved—do you think two big strong men like you could take care of it?”
“I’d be glad to.” Ben smiled, and Molly thought to herself that he surely didn’t hold her responsible for hitting him on the bead the night of the fire. “How about it, Toby?”
“Certainly.” He smiled at her engagingly, his clear eyes warm and intense. “I was just looking for someone to go riding with me, but Patrick seems to have taken off. If Molly will take his place when we’re done then I’m your man.”
She looked out at the dark and drizzly sky. “It’s hardly the weather for it, is it?” She couldn’t imagine why she’d feel the slightest hesitation, but she did.
