Mistletoe Magic. Кэрол Мортимер
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Webber…!
She closed her eyes briefly. It had to be him who caught her guzzling a glass of champagne, didn’t it? It just had to be!
He was the reason she had sneaked in here for this illicit glass of champagne in the first place, knowing she was going to need every bit of help she could find to face him later on this morning.
Except it wasn’t later. It was now. And as she glanced back across at Gideon Webber she could see that same look of contempt on his arrogant face as had been there the last time she had seen him. The first as well as the last!
Not that the man looked any less lethally attractive than he had just over three years ago, when they had last met; his hair was that strange but attractive mixture of golden blond and molasses, his eyes that deep cobalt-blue, his nose long and arrogant, over a finely chiselled mouth, his chin square and determined. The last time Molly had seen him he had been wearing casual denims and a tee shirt, but today he looked even more arrogantly attractive in the formal dark suit and snowy white shirt, the latter complementing his golden tan.
Which he had no doubt recently acquired at some expensive ski resort—it was all right for some! Molly thought uncharitably.
‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ she snapped, even as she put the glass down on the table. She reached into her bag to look for the tissue she had put in there earlier for emergencies, having decided she had to be ready for any eventuality today! The last thing she wanted was to start sniffing in the middle of her nephew’s christening.
Gideon Webber shrugged broad shoulders, the slightly contemptuous smile still curving that arrogant mouth. ‘You seem to be rather—fond of—the odd glass or six, shall we say?’ He arched mocking brows.
‘No, we will not say!’ Molly returned waspishly, stuffing the ineffectual tissue back in her bag. The sleeve of her jacket was still soaking wet. She just hoped it wouldn’t stain when it dried; she had paid a lot of money for the new suit she was wearing in honour of the day.
Gideon Webber grimaced unrepentantly. ‘We’ve only met twice—and both times you’ve had a glass in your hand!’
‘The last time it was Alka-Seltzer,’ she defended with another resentful glare.
‘So it was,’ he acknowledged with hard mockery. ‘I remember commenting at the time that you would probably have been better downing another glass of whatever had put you in that state in the first place!’
Molly drew in a sharp breath as he made no effort to hide his deliberately insulting tone.
She had been dreading today anyway, ever since Crystal had told her who Peter’s two godfathers were to be. But she had finally convinced herself that surely Gideon Webber was too polite to make any reference to their last memorable meeting. Obviously, in light of their present conversation, it was a totally erroneous assumption for her to have made about this—this—
This what? she questioned herself heavily.
Under any other circumstances she would have considered this man lethally attractive, ‘drop-dead gorgeous’, as some of her more colourful friends might have said. And he was gorgeous, no doubt about that—over six feet of lethal attraction. He just also happened to be one of the few people who had ever seen her the worse for wear because of too much alcohol…!
Time to take a bit more control of this conversation, she decided firmly. ‘Those were exceptional circumstances,’ she told him decisively.
He raised blond brows over enigmatic blue eyes. ‘And today?’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ Molly snapped impatiently. ‘At most, I’ve had two sips of champagne.’ She picked up the glass to take another assertive swallow. ‘That makes three now.’ She looked across at him challengingly.
He gave an acknowledging inclination of his head. ‘If you say so,’ he drawled.
Molly felt the colour enter her cheeks at this obvious scepticism as to the amount of champagne she had actually imbibed—a colour that didn’t exactly go with her blaze of rich Titian hair. But, damn it, the man was making it sound as if she were some sort of alcoholic who sneaked around swigging alcohol whenever there was no one else around—
Wasn’t that exactly what she had just been doing?
Well…yes. But—
She gave an irritable sigh. ‘I do say so.’ She nodded curtly. ‘I was just—it was only—’ Oh, give up, Molly, she advised herself self-disgustedly—While you’re not ahead! ‘Shouldn’t we all be leaving for the church?’ she prompted briskly.
‘Crys sent me in search of you for just that reason,’ Gideon Webber confirmed dryly.
Crys had sent this man to find her? But why not? Crys, of all people, could have no idea how much Molly had dreaded seeing him again. And that was the way she wanted it to stay!
She put the champagne glass down on the table. ‘I’m ready if you are.’
He gave a mocking inclination of his head before turning to open the door for her. ‘After you,’ he invited smoothly.
Molly straightened her shoulders, aware of that hooded gaze following every inch of her progress, knowing what he would see, too: a small redhead with warm brown eyes—eyes usually full of fun and laughter!—dressed formally today, in a dress and matching jacket, her legs shapely, the heels on her shoes a little high for comfort, but their colour exactly matching that of her suit.
‘Just one more thing,’ Gideon Webber murmured softly as she would have passed him in the doorway.
She raised wary eyes, suddenly tense. ‘Yes…?’ she prompted cautiously, wondering what the ‘one more thing’ he wanted to say to her could possibly be. Apart from mentioning their unforgettable first meeting, of course!
He gave a humourless smile, that gleam of white teeth looking almost feral. ‘Has anyone ever mentioned to you that women with red hair shouldn’t wear certain shades of pink?’
His remark was so unexpected, so insulting in view of the fact that she did have red hair, and that the suit she was wearing was pink, that for several seconds all Molly could do was open and shut her mouth like a goldfish in a bowl, with no actual sound passing her lips.
She had loved the style of the dress and jacket as soon as she’d seen them in the shop, but although she often did wear pink, had been a little unsure about this particular pale shade, debating long and hard while in the shop and trying the suit on whether or not it was actually the right colour for her. The shop assistant, probably sensing her uncertainty, and, in retrospect, probably feeling in danger of losing her commission on a sale, had assured Molly that she looked wonderful in it.
So much for wonderful!
Her eyes sparkled angrily as she turned to give Gideon Webber a haughty glare. ‘Most men would be too polite to say such a thing,’ she bit out scathingly.
Humour glinted in his eyes now. ‘Most men couldn’t tell you what any woman was wearing yesterday—let alone whether or not it suited her!’
He had a point there, Molly acknowledged ruefully, thinking affectionately of her stepfather. As long as her mother wasn’t actually walking around in something indecent, she was sure Matthew wouldn’t notice what Caroline was actually wearing. ‘I—’
‘Molly!’ Crys cried thankfully as she spotted them at the end of the hallway. ‘And Gideon,’ she added with even more relief, strolling down the hallway to link her arm with Molly’s. ‘We thought the two of you must have decided you didn’t want to be Peter’s godparents after all and run away together!’
Molly gave a disbelieving snort at this possible scenario, not even daring to look at Gideon Webber for his own reaction to the remark. She was easily able to guess at the derision that would be curling those arrogant lips.
Especially as she was wearing a shade of pink that clashed with her