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  Molly’s hand covered his on the jib. “And you have to be willing to work for it,” she said slowly. “I understand that.” He gave her a narrow look. “I do,” she insisted. “And I’m not opposed to doing what has to be done to save the Sentinel.”

  He turned his hand so he could grasp hers. Her fingers felt soft and supple. He liked her calluses. Molly wasn’t afraid to get her hands a little dirty. He idly rubbed his thumb over a rough spot on the outside edge of her middle finger. It was a pencil callus—and Sam suspected Molly had had it most of her life. “I see the Sentinel,” he said, “as a worthy and fine institution. And not just because Carl is my friend, either. In some ways, smaller market papers are better poised for certain stories—”

  “Like the transportation hub?”

  He didn’t point out that she was interrupting again. “Like the hub,” he concurred. “They can cover a story like that more effectively and more thoroughly than a wide-distribution organization. And those stories are important. They affect people’s lives. But people won’t be able to read them unless they turn to papers like the Sentinel. Circulation comes before respectability—not in lieu of. I’m sorry if I failed to communicate that to you.”

  “No. I’m sorry.” Molly’s fingers quivered slightly in his. “I should have trusted Carl to know what was best for his own paper. He wouldn’t have brought you in if he’d thought you would destroy what he’d built.” Had her expression not been so open, Sam might have thought she was teasing him. But there was nothing in her tone or the clear look of regret in her eyes to suggest that she didn’t genuinely mean what she’d said. The sense of relief that flooded him also shocked him. Sam had never particularly cared what people thought of him, but for reasons he couldn’t explain, Molly’s opinion seemed vital.

  She shook her head. “I’ve made this much harder than I should have, Sam, and I’m a big enough person to admit it.”

  “I appreciate that,” he said.

  “And I give you my word that I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”

  “There are going to be some tough changes ahead,” he replied, giving her a close look. “Probably some job cuts—or at least reassignments.”

  “You’re going to get rid of Bob Flayland, aren’t you?”

  Sam wasn’t surprised at her insight. Molly knew the Sentinel as well as anyone, maybe better. Bob Flayland had been senior editor of the community news section for twenty years. He was past his prime and out of touch with the majority of the potential readership. “I’m going to suggest to Bob that he start writing a weekly op ed. It’ll give him more freedom to voice his opinions, and the community knows and respects his name. It seems like a natural fit.”

  “It does. It’s brilliant.”

  “Thanks,” he said with a quick grin. “Hearing that from you feels a little like winning an Olympic medal.”

  Molly laughed. “Oh, come on. It hasn’t been that bad.”

  “I’ve never worked harder for a compliment in my life,” he confessed.

  “For your information, I think you have lots of good ideas. I just don’t happen to think the advice column and the coupon clipper are among them. Nor,” she frowned at him slightly, “is the idea of doing away with the coverage of the duck races.”

  Sam rolled his eyes. “You’re never going to let up on that, are you?”

  “Not until you change your mind.”

  “The last time I changed my mind I was twenty years old and thinking about dropping out of college.”

  “And see,” she shot back, “it turned out that changing your mind was the right thing to do. Where would you be today if you hadn’t finished your degree?”

  In spite of himself, Sam chuckled. “You win. I’ll give you until Saturday to change my mind. Deal?”

  “Deal.” Apparently satisfied, Molly changed the subject. She spread her arms and looked up at the height of the mast. “How do you ever make yourself leave this?”

  “It’s not easy,” he told her.

  “This is where you spend your weekends,” she guessed. “It has nothing to do with wanting to get out of Payne and everything to do with wanting to get back to this.”

  “Usually,” he agreed.

  “I’m sorry I misjudged you,” she said. “I’m a little ashamed of myself.”

  “You had me pegged for a Boston society type, didn’t you?”

  “Not really. There’s been a lot of speculation about your weekends.” She paused. “Most everyone figured it was a woman.”

  “But not you?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know what I thought. I was just determined not to like you.”

  That made him laugh. “At least you’re honest about it.”

  “I’m always honest. Even when it’s brutal.” Molly leaned back against the mast. “And while we’re on the subject of honesty, I have a confession to make,” she told him quietly, her voice a throaty purr that made Sam’s gut clench.

  “Oh?” He closed the distance between them with a long step. He could feel the warmth of her body through her clothes. His fingers began to tingle with the anticipation of touching her. He wanted to bury one hand in her luxuriant sweep of hair, and use the other to press her tightly against him so he could feel her curves molding to his body. Sam fought an internal war for self-control and warned himself it was too much too soon. Molly wouldn’t expect it. He couldn’t begin to imagine how she’d react if he simply pulled her to him and kissed her as he’d been longing to do for most of the evening.

  “Yes, I do.” Molly glanced momentarily at the gleaming deck rails, then back at Sam. Her eyes looked dark in the soft light. Slowly, she reached for his right hand. As her fingers wrapped around it, Sam felt a charge of electricity spread up his arm and down his spine. Molly gently lifted his hand close to her face and rubbed her thumb across a healing scrape on his knuckles. Sam’s heart rate accelerated. Molly studied the wound on his hand with keen interest. “I noticed this scrape this morning in your office.” She slid her thumb across the rough surface. “I guess I had fallen victim to the gossip about you. I just assumed that you spent your weekends lazing around on the coast.”

  He wondered if she could feel his pulse pounding beneath her fingers. “I’m not the type to cycle the Vineyard and attend club gatherings, Molly,” he said dryly. “I never have been.”

  “I think I knew that,” she said. “It never seemed to really fit you.” She paused. “You’re a powerful man, Sam—” Before he could interrupt, she continued. “And I’m not talking about your business connections. I mean you, personally. You have a certain aura about you that commands attention and respect. It’s really hard to picture you milling about with people who don’t share your drive and your work ethic. I couldn’t quite place you in that environment.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “You’re an enigma—complex, mystifying.” Molly frowned. “On the one hand, I can imagine you’re completely comfortable with your family’s social circle, but on the other hand, I think you’re the type of man who stands at the edge of the crowd and waits for the party to end so you can get back to something important.”

  “Probably.”

  She smiled slightly. “I think that’s why the scrape fascinated me.”

  He tightened his fingers on hers. Molly gave him a sheepish look. “In my experience, men of leisure don’t have scraped knuckles.”

  “It ruins the manicure,” he said seriously.

  Molly laughed. The throaty sound sent a wave of heat coursing through him. “Precisely,” she said. Her gaze dropped to the scrape again. “I’m beginning to think I seriously underestimated you, Sam.”

  “Oh?” She had no idea, he thought.

  “I think I was a little afraid of how I was feeling.”

  He turned his hand in hers so he could press her palm to his chest. That had to be the best news he’d had in days. Strategy, he reminded himself, was key here. He was very, very good at strategy. He’d never needed it more tha
n he did in this instance. “How were you feeling, Molly?” he probed gently.

  Molly hesitated. He could almost sense the conflict in her. “I was falling for you,” she finally admitted. “Hard.” She held his gaze a second longer, then turned her head down. “I fought it, but I was losing.”

  Sam swept an arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him. The crush of her softness against his hard length was even more satisfying than he’d imagined. Molly was exactly the kind of woman Sam most appreciated. A sharp mind and enough curves to fill a man’s hands and feel womanly against his body. He’d never liked hard-angled women despite their fashionability. “That’s a very good thing,” he told her as he lowered his head. “A very, very good thing.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “I do.” He brought his face close to hers. He sensed her hesitation and realized this was one of the many things that attracted him to her. Molly didn’t have the jaded edge of sophistication which characterized the women he generally met in his business and social life. She was fresh and invigorating. Being with her reminded him, in many ways, of sailing. She was as unpredictable as the wind—challenging, fresh and exhilarating. When he won a battle with her, he felt as though he’d struggled against insurmountable odds and somehow survived—and he couldn’t wait to do it again.

  Anticipation roared through him as he realized he was about to finally do something he’d been fantasizing about for weeks. He’d bet the feeling of kissing Molly would be absolutely intoxicating. “I’ve been wondering,” he told her, “how much longer I was going to have to wait before I could kiss you.”

  Molly wound her arms around his neck and stood up on tiptoe, as if his question had sent whatever shreds of resistance she had into oblivion. “Oh, good. I was afraid you were going to make me embarrass myself.”

  With a grunt of satisfied triumph, Sam lowered his head to cover Molly’s lips. She was sweet and spicy, refreshing and utterly addictive. He moved his mouth against hers, drinking deeply as he explored her curves with his hands. Her sweatshirt did nothing to disguise a lush softness that made Sam crave the feel of her bare skin. Molly moaned as she pressed herself closer to him. Sam molded her hips to his as he deepened the kiss.

  He kissed her until his body began to ache with a steady pulsing burn. She threaded her fingers into the hair at his nape where her fingertips tickled his skin.

  “Molly,” he muttered. “Molly, you’re so sweet.”

  “Sam, I’m not—” She took a shuddering breath when he pressed his mouth to the shell of her ear. “I don’t—” She swallowed when he blew a hot, moist stream of air into the sensitive hollow. “It’s so—oh, Sam.” He flicked his tongue over her earlobe. Molly shuddered.

  “So soon? So fast?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the spot beneath her ear. “Tell me, Molly. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

  She shivered. “Much,” she answered. “It’s so much.” Her hands slid to his shoulders where she pushed him slightly away from her. “I didn’t think—” She trailed off and dropped her head to his shoulder. “I can’t think.”

  Sam understood. He’d had weeks to consider his attraction to Molly, what he wanted, and how he wanted to pursue her. Unless he missed his guess, she hadn’t even realized what she was feeling until earlier today. He wrapped both arms around her and pulled her close. Slowly and thoroughly, he caressed her with his hands and his mouth. When he edged a hand inside her sweatshirt, he encountered a satin camisole. The texture, he guessed, couldn’t be any smoother or softer than her skin. Through the slick fabric, he felt her stomach quiver as he stroked its softness.

  Molly shivered and leaned against him. Her lips rubbed against his, kissing and probing, tasting and experimenting. Sam’s libido kicked into overdrive when she toyed with the sensitive spot just behind his ears.

  When Sam lightly cupped her breast, Molly gasped. Slowly, he lifted his head, but kept his hand in place. The firm weight of her resting against his palm had him fighting an internal battle for self-control. “You’re beautiful,” he told her. “Desirable.”

  “Sam—”

  “It’s okay,” he assured her. “I’m not trying to rush you into anything. I just want you to know how much I want you.”

  She choked out a half laugh. “Whatever I’m feeling, it’s not rushed. Ravished, maybe. Reeling. Ravenous.”

  “Ready?” Sam quipped.

  “Don’t push your luck.” She gave his shoulder a slight swat. “This is a little sudden for me, I mean I knew I was having strong feelings toward you. I just didn’t admit to myself what they were until this morning. And even then, I wasn’t very happy about it.”

  Sam smiled into the near darkness. One thing he’d always admired about Molly was her ruthless honesty. “I know.”

  “You can’t possibly know,” she countered. She tipped her head back to meet his gaze. “I went to work this morning expecting you to fire me.”

  He cupped her cheek with his large hand. “I had other plans.”

  Molly searched his gaze. “For how long?”

  “Weeks,” he confessed. “I realized before you did that the obvious chemistry between us wasn’t a bad thing.”

  “My head’s spinning. You must think I’m an idiot.”

  “I don’t,” he assured her. He found her innocence charming, but knew she’d misunderstand if he tried to explain. The last thing he wanted to do tonight was begin a conversation that would require explaining the differences between Molly and the other women he’d known. His mood would definitely sour, and he doubted he could convince her that she wasn’t coming up short in his eyes. “It’s like I told you this morning—there are many forms of passion.”

  “I didn’t imagine—”

  Sam covered her lips with his thumb. “I know. And it’s okay. I’m not going to rush you into anything, but I’m also not going to lie to you.” He paused. “I want you, Molly. I want you to be my lover. I want to get to know you in every intimate way imaginable. I think you and I can have something explosive and exciting, and I’d like the chance to explore it before my work at the Sentinel is done. That’s why I made this deal with you today.”

  “What if I’m never ready to take that step?”

  “Then you aren’t.” He paused, wondering if he’d gone too far or given her too much information. He suspected that Molly wasn’t the type of woman who plunged into convenient, temporary liaisons. He couldn’t live with himself if he misled her or gave her a false impression. Sam didn’t put down stakes and sit still. He didn’t form irrevocable ties and bonds that might hinder him from moving to the next place and the next project. In that way, he was very much like his father. Until now, he’d carefully chosen women who understood and shared that aspect of his nature. But Pamela had left him feeling inexplicably hollow and weary. He had needed something fresh. And he’d found it in Molly Flynn.

  “The truth is,” he told her, “I’m man enough to know that if you aren’t ready, I won’t find the experience of making love to you very satisfying. I want you to desire it as much as I do.”

  She searched his gaze. “You aren’t put off by the idea that I might not ever want to—” She paused. “That I might not get to that point?”

  He shook his head. “I’d be disappointed if that happened, but I’m not worried about it.”

  “You think I will,” she guessed.

  “I’m confident I can make you trust me. You’ve already said you’re attracted to me. And I’m sure as hell attracted to you. I’ve wanted you for weeks, Molly. Those are the basic elements. The rest—like the timing and the semantics—will take care of itself.”

  “Sam—”

  “This doesn’t embarrass you, does it?”

  “You don’t understand,” she told him. “I’m a very basic kind of person. I don’t have the kind of life—”

  “Are you trying to tell me you’re not the kind of woman to get involved in a casual fling?”

  “Now who’s interrupting
?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Now that you mention it, yes—I’m not the type.”

  “I know that,” he assured her. “Believe it or not, I like that about you. It might surprise you to learn that I’m not the type to indulge in casual affairs either. I may not enter relationships with long-range plans, but neither do I enter them lightly. My father took relationships lightly.” He couldn’t quite keep the bitter note from his voice. “It didn’t turn out that well for him,” Sam said flatly.

  “I’m feeling a little overwhelmed.”

  “This has been a lot to take in in a day, hasn’t it?”

  Molly nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this many emotional mood swings in one day. It’s got to be a record.”

  Sam laughed softly. “Then we’re even. Since the day I walked into the Sentinel, I haven’t been able to decide whether I wanted to strangle you or seduce you.”

  “I’ll bet the jury’s still out on that,” she quipped.

  “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But I have to confess, I’m even beginning to enjoy arguing with you.”

  “Good thing. I have a feeling there’s a lot of that in our future.”

  He dipped his head to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “Well, you know what they say about the best part of arguing.”

  “Making up?”

  “Mm-hmm.” He kissed her lightly. “Definitely.”

  Molly’s eyes fluttered shut. “Sam—” she said.

  And he decided he could get addicted to the way she said his name.

  Chapter Five

  “Sam, you’re never going to guess—” Molly skidded to a stop on the soft carpet just inside Sam’s office when she noticed two older women seated across from his desk. One was exquisitely dressed in a designer suit with matching pumps and handbag. Elegant and sophisticated, she wore her graying brown hair pinned up in a sweep of thick, soft-looking waves. The other woman wore clothes that Molly would have sworn came from a thrift shop, had they not conveyed a certain indefinable priciness. Her long, flowing skirt had a muted batik pattern. Her cashmere sweater had a hand-dyed look that made it seem exotic, despite its relatively undramatic hue. Her hair was also long with streaks of gray, though its strawberry blond color made them less noticeable. She’d pulled it back from her face with a turquoise-encrusted headband, and she wore pearl earrings so large they should have looked artificial, but her poise and bearing defied anyone to assume they weren’t genuine.