Wedding Vows: With This Ring. Barbara Hannay

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      Tonight, and every other night this week, until Friday, he would hit the punching bag until the funny yearning that the glimpse of her world was causing in him was gone. He could force all the things he was feeling—lonely, for one—back into their proper compartments.

      By the end of the week he would be himself again. He’d experienced a temporary letting down of his guard, but he recognized it now as a weakness. He’d had a whole lifetime of fighting the weaknesses in himself. There was no way one day with her could change that permanently.

      Sparring with Molly Michaels was just like boxing, without the bruises, of course. But as with boxing, even with day after day of practice, when it came to sparring, you could take a hair too long to resume the defensive position, and someone slipped a punch in. Rattled you. Knocked you off balance. It didn’t mean you were going to lose that fight! It meant you were going to come back more aware of your defenses. More determined. Especially if the bell had rung between rounds and you had the luxury of a bit of a breather.

      She wasn’t going to wear him down, and he didn’t care how many children she tried to use to do it.

Chapter Six

      HOUSTON WHITFORD congratulated himself on using his time between rounds wisely. By avoiding Molly Michaels.

      And yet there really was no avoiding her. With each day at Second Chances, even as he busied himself researching, checking the new computer systems, okaying details of the renovations, there was no avoiding her influence in this place.

      Molly Michaels was the sun that the moons circled around. Just as at the garden, she seemed to be the one people gravitated to with their confidences and concerns. She was warm, open and emotional.

      The antithesis of what he was. But what was that they said? Opposites attract. And he could feel the pull of her even as he tried not to.

      They had one very striking similarity. They both wanted their own way, and were stubborn in the pursuit of it.

      Tuesday morning three letters had been waiting for him on his desk when he arrived. The recurring theme of the three letters: Why I Want a Prom Dress. One was on pink paper. One smelled of perfume. And he was pretty sure one was stained with tears.

      Wednesday there were half a dozen.

      Yesterday, twenty or so.

      Today he was so terrified of the basket overflowing with those heartfelt feminine outpourings that he had bypassed his office completely! The Sunshine and Lollipops program felt as if it had to be easier to handle than those letters!

      Molly was chipping away at his hardheaded jadedness without even being in the same room with him.

      Today children. He didn’t really have a soft spot for children, but a few days ago he would have said the same of teenage girls pleading for prom dresses!

      Molly was a force to be reckoned with. Houston was fairly certain if he was going to be here for two months instead of two weeks, by the end of that time he would be laying down his cloak over mud puddles for her. He’d probably be funding Prom Dreams out of his own pocket, just as he was donating the entire office renovation, and the time and skill of his Precision Solutions team.

      The trick really was not to let Molly Michaels know that her charm was managing to permeate even his closed office door! The memory of the day they had already spent together seemed to be growing more vibrant with time instead of less.

      Because she was a mischievous little minx—laughter seemed to follow in her wake—and she would not hesitate to use any perceived power over him to her full advantage!

      So, the trick was not to let her know. They hailed a cab when she took one look at his car and pronounced it unsuitable for the neighborhood they were going into.

      As someone who had once put a rock through a judge’s very upscale Cadillac, Houston should have remembered that his car, a jet black Jaguar, would be a target for the angry, the greedy and the desperate in those very poor neighborhoods.

      The daycare center was a cheery spot of color on a dreary street that reminded Houston of where he’d grown up. Except for the daycare, the buildings oozed neglect and desperation. The daycare, though, had its brick front painted a cheerful yellow, a mural of sunflowers snaked up to the second floor windows.

      Inside was more cheer—walls and furniture painted in bright, primary colors. They met with the staff and Houston was given an enthusiastic overview of the programs Second Chances funded.

      He was impressed by the careful shepherding of the funds, but how he’d seen people react to her in the garden was repeated here.

      Dealing with people was clearly her territory. He could see this aspect of Second Chances was her absolute strength. There was an attitude of love and respect toward her that even a jaundiced old businessman like him could see the value of. Money could not buy the kind of devotion that Molly inspired.

      Still, aside from that, analytically, it was clear to him Molly had made a tactical error in bringing him here. He had always felt this particular program, providing care for children of working or back-to-school moms, had indisputable merit. She had nothing to prove, here.

      Obviously, in her effort to show him the soul of Second Chances she was trying to find her way to his heart.

      And though she made some surprising headway, the terrible truth about Houston was that other women had tried to make him feel things he had no intention of feeling, had tried to unlock the secrets of his heart.

      They had not been better women than Molly, but they had certainly been every bit as determined to make him feel something. He dated career women, female versions of himself, owned by their work, interested only in temporary diversion and companionship when it came to a relationship. Sometimes somebody wanted to change the rules partway in, thinking he should want what they had come to want: something deeper. A future. Together. Babies. Little white picket fences. Fairy tales. Forever.

       Happily ever after.

      He could think of very few things that were as terrifying to him. He must have made some kind of cynical sound because Molly glanced at him and smiled. There was something about that smile that made him realize she hadn’t played all her cards yet.

      “We’re going to watch a musical presentation, and then have lunch with the children,” she told him.

      The children. Of course she was counting on them to bring light to his dark heart, to pave the way for older children, later, who needed prom dresses, though of course it was the need part that was open to question.

      “Actually we could just—”

      But the children were marching into the room, sending eager glances at their visitors, as excited as if they would be performing to visiting royalty.

      He glared at Molly, just to let her know using the kids to try to get to him, to try to get her way, was the ultimate in cheesy. He met her gaze, and held it, to let her know that he was on to her. But before she fully got the seriousness of his stern look, several of the munchkins broke ranks and attacked her!

      They flung СКАЧАТЬ