Film at Eleven

“Ever been wrong?” Chandler countered.

Her eyes narrowed slightly before she answered. “No. Not once.”

He knew he couldn’t make the same claim, so he wondered about the veracity of her statement but decided this wasn’t the right time to challenge her.

“Mind if I look around?” Seth asked.

“For what?” she asked.

“I just want to check out the windows and locks, I’ll have the officer who responded to your call do the exterior.”

Seth’s question seemed to drain some of the color from her face. “That’s sweet of you. And yes, I’m careful never to leave anything unlocked, but a second pair of eyes never hurts. Especially not when I consider that John has already managed to get his hands on my unlisted, private number.”

She rose, Seth stood, so Chandler did the same. He went along for the walk, not so much because he didn’t think his brother was capable of securing her home, but just out of sheer curiosity. Besides, he knew that eventually, he’d get a grand tour of her bedroom, and he pretty much planned to savor that moment.

“…is all there is to it,” she finished, leading the parade of very large Landry men into the private sanctuary of her bedroom.

Seth went directly to the window, whereas Chandler made a beeline directly to her bookcase. When he reached for her copy of In Too Deep, maybe her all-time favorite L. S. Connor novel, she had to swallow the urge to yell, “Don’t touch that!” at his very impressive back.

Impressive wasn’t a good enough word. Nope, not for Chandler Landry. A decent sale at her favorite boutique could be called impressive. This man needed something more, an adjective that captured his absolute, unfettered perfection. No wonder he had garnered fame in the Jasper dating world. Heck, in this world he was a god among mortals. At least when compared to her pretty average dating options. Molly wasn’t a nun, but she truly couldn’t remember ever having such an extreme emotional and physical reaction to a man. It was as though every fiber of her being had Chandler radar as she watched him flip through her most-prized possession.

Nerves still frazzled, adrenaline still pumping, she needed a distraction right now. And what better distraction than Chandler? She noted every detail—from his clothing to his expressively handsome face.

His jeans fit like a second denim skin, particularly around the thighs, where the fabric was worn and tight, encasing powerful legs that her brain instantly stripped naked.

Mentally scolding herself didn’t seem to help. Nope, libido had saturated her intellect. She’d wanted a distraction from fear, and what better way than to replace it with lusty thoughts. Just because she was thinking about him naked didn’t mean she had to act on that impulse. She just went with it. His hips and waist were narrow, but, given his height and the breadth of his massive shoulders, she was hard-pressed to classify him as anything other than huge.

Normally she would have considered that a definite deterrent. She wasn’t usually attracted to large men, maybe because she didn’t like feeling physically inferior to anyone. But tonight, as the clock on her bedside table rolled close to 2:00 a.m., had he crooked his finger in her direction, she would have taken a running jump.

She took an involuntary and protective step backward, almost touching the wall in her desire to put some distance between herself and the handsome image of Chandler running his fingertips over her coveted books.

She swallowed the lump of primal desire that was trying desperately to lodge in her dry throat. So what if he was more than six feet of chiseled perfection. It didn’t matter that his eyes were a rich brown, flecked with just enough gold to elevate them out of the “ordinary” category. And the man had a great body, so great, in fact, that she was sure the mere memory would haunt her dreams.

“That does it,” Seth said.

You have no idea, she thought, plastering as benign a smile on her face as possible.

“We’ll be going, now,” Seth continued, walking toward the second floor hallway.

“Unless you’d like me—uh, us to stay.” Chandler offered.

Us? No. You? Bigger no. “I’m fine now,” she insisted, flattening herself against the wall so that no part of his massive and appealing frame made contact with her.

He paused, looming large above her. He was close, close enough for her to feel the warm wash of his breath against her upturned face.

Speaking of breath, Molly was holding hers. A fact she was fairly sure wasn’t lost on him. She based that on the slightly self-satisfied smile curling the right side of his mouth. She was embarrassed, more so when she felt the heat begin to warm her cheeks.

“I would be happy to stay with you tonight,” Chandler offered in a smooth, inviting voice that had her knees threatening to buckle beneath her.

With some effort, she was able to level her gaze and keep her pleasant smile from slipping. Every cell in her body was screaming, “Yes! Stay! Me first!” but luckily her intellect had returned from its stroll down Chandler Lane. “Tonight is almost over and I have to be at my office by eight. But, thanks, anyway.”

“SHE SHOT YOU DOWN, deal with it.”

Chandler slammed the door of his brother’s cruiser and glared at him by the dim light of the dashboard console. “My offer was sincere.”

Seth snorted loudly. “Sincerely meant to separate her from her panties.”

“I was being nice.”

“Please, bro,” Seth said as he steered out of the small community and turned west, back toward the Lucky 7 Ranch. “I knew letting you come with me was a bad idea. You were practically drooling over the poor woman.”

“She is seriously droolworthy,” Chandler insisted, his mind filling with images of Molly in her silky pink robe. “Did you see the legs? Incredible legs.”

“Leading, eventually, to an incredible mind. Face it, Chandler, the woman is too smart to get involved with a guy like you.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. What’s that supposed to mean, anyway?”

“It means you’re out of your league. Molly impresses me as a kind, compassionate woman who doesn’t need you messing with her.”

“When did I become a serial killer?” Chandler muttered. “I’m a decent guy. I’ve got—“

“An aversion to meaningful, interpersonal relationships. Face it, dear brother, you don’t want any part of her. She’s happily ever after, and you’re happily even after.”

“You’re making me sound like a real jerk.”

“I love you, Chandler. I’m your older brother and it’s my job to tell you when you’re about to make a huge mistake. Consider it said.”

“And the mistake would be?”

“Setting your sights on a nice lady who has a serious problem just now. John—or whatever his real name turns out to be—has obviously fixated on her. Don’t you think one stalker at a time is enough?”

“Stalker? Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?”

“Okay, but you get the point. You’re probably only interested in her because she’s pretending not to be interested in you. You’re predictable, Chandler. You always want the things you can’t have. And once you get them, you get bored and move on.”

“That’s not true.”

“Allison Janeway?”

He hadn’t heard that name in years but still remembered the months of pleading phone calls and tearful scenes after he’d broken off with her. “She was an exception.”

“Bethany Carter?”

Chandler winced. “She didn’t take our parting well. But you can hardly blame me for the overreaction of those two women.”

“Cynthia Felder.”

Chandler felt annoyance knot in his gut. “Are you spewing these from memory, or did you keep a list?”

“Actually,” Seth’s tone indicated he was amused, “I was listing them alphabetically. Next comes, um, Debbie Gayle. Edie Hanover. Francine Smy—“

“I get it,” Chandler cut in. “So maybe I’m just picky. Or I haven’t met the right woman yet. Ever consider that?”

“Nope. Every one of the women you’ve dated have been great. I think—“

“Some of them were not great,” Chandler argued. “You may have a long memory but it’s pretty damned selective. Remember Shauna Bellows? She was a long way from great.”

Seth chuckled. “But she loved you, Chandler. She desperately wanted to bear your children.”

“Was that before or after she went to rehab for her secret pill habit?”

“Okay, so Shauna wasn’t the best choice for a life partner. Face it, bro. The truth of the matter is you aren’t ready for a life partner. Everything is still all about you.”

“I don’t recall you falling on your sword at your wedding reception. You’re happily married, and no one ever thought that would happen. Look at Chance and Val. Who knew he’d ever succumb to wedded bliss. Hell, look at Clayton! Sam and Callie. We all thought Sam would never remarry after that disaster with Lynn and then he found Callie.”

“Sam almost blew it by keeping his secret.”

Chandler sighed. “Point. But my secret isn’t like Sam’s. And when I told you, you promised you’d never bring it up.”

“I haven’t told a single person,” Seth said, pausing long enough to make a cross over his heart. “But I’ve never met a secret that didn’t come back to bite somebody in the ass.”

DRAGGING was the only way to describe the way Molly moved toward her door at 7:45 that morning. She was twisting the earphone connected to her cell into her ear while balancing her briefcase and a travel mug of hot coffee.

“Dammit!” she cried as the hot beverage splashed out on her hand as she turned the key and locked her door. The morning wasn’t looking up as she might have liked.

As was her practice, Molly made phone calls during her drive. It was efficient and allowed her to make the best use of her time. She knew which of her friends were early risers, which ones got up late, and she selected the calls to return accordingly.

Slipping behind the wheel of her car, she settled all of her things into place, then pressed the preprogrammed button on her cell and laid it on the console between the seats.

“Hello?” Claire Esterhouse’s voice was chipper, perky and just the thing she needed to jump-start a better mood.

“Hi. Sorry I didn’t get back to you yesterday. I was—“

“On the news and everything,” Claire interrupted. “Did you see that poor woman’s torso yourself? Was it as disgusting as I imagine? Was it the guy who called when you were on TV’s mother?”

“Let me know when it’s my turn to talk,” Molly teased.

She and Claire had known each other for years, been roommates for a while, as well. They were close friends separated by life. Claire was now married, had moved to Helena with her successful, pharmaceutical-salesman husband and was hoping to start a family. They got together whenever they could, but Molly still longed for the old days, when Claire was only a bedroom away.

“Stan and I couldn’t believe it when we watched the tape. By the way, I taped the show with the hunky newsman, in case you’d like to see it.”

“Not really,” Molly admitted. She explained how many hours she had spent with Seth and Chandler reviewing the segment and looking for some insight to John’s identity. Then she told Claire about the message John left on her machine.

“Ohmygod!” Claire cried, genuine concern in her voice. “Why didn’t you call us? We could have come down.”

“A hundred-mile round trip? I don’t think so, but I appreciate the thought. Besides, Seth and Chandler came over and—“

“The hunky newsman was at your place? Please, please tell me you stripped naked and had your way with him. Better yet, tell me he stripped naked and you have pictures.”

“Only in my mind,” Molly admitted. “Pathetic, huh?”

“Then we’re both pathetic ’cause I’m getting a pretty intense mental image right now.”

“Claire,” Molly joked with pretend sternness, “remember your wonderful husband.”

“All I have to remember is not to yell out ‘Ohh Chandler, baby,’ when I’m having a perfectly appropriate and normal fantasy during my next sexual encounter with my husband.”

Molly laughed, and her mood lightened. “You are so bad.”

“Forget me, tell me all about him. Is he as cute as the billboards and posters all over the place? And when are you going to see him again?”

“Yes and no.”

“Good and fool! Jeez, Mol, the man is a walking, talking invitation to wild passion. Take a walk on the wild side, my friend.”

“The last time I took that walk, I tripped and fell flat on my face,” she said.

“So your last few relationships haven’t worked out. That doesn’t mean you stop trying.”

“I haven’t stopped,” Molly insisted. “I’m just taking a leave of absence.”

“Boring. You don’t have to marry the guy. But as a fully qualified, board-certified therapist, I’m strongly urging you to have mindless sex with him.”

“Because that’s always a great way to approach a relationship,” Molly returned easily. “Besides, he’s a Landry, Claire. Of the Landry Family. Of the wealthy and privileged Landrys. Forget being out of my league. He’s out of my universe.”

“What? You don’t think you can love and be loved by a rich guy? Didn’t I teach you anything during our years together?”

“He’s a public figure, Claire. And I’m the Queen of Private. And this conversation is completely silly because I’m probably not going to see him ever again.”

“Chicken.”

She heard the click and bleep of an incoming call, then said, “Gotta run, I’ve got another call.”

“Cowardly chicken.”

Molly was still grinning when she tapped the button to catch the incoming call. “Dr. Jameson.”

“Molly, dear, you didn’t return my call last night.”

“I’m sorry, Gavin,” she said with genuine emotion. “Things got a little strange.” She proceeded to fill him in on the details of her long night. As always her mentor and friend listened patiently as she told him everything.

Well, almost everything. She didn’t share with him that Chandler had her libido on high alert. Nor did she intend to. Not that Gavin wouldn’t have gladly listened, that was a given. He wouldn’t have cared that she found Chandler mind-alteringly appealing. Gavin was the most polished man she’d ever known, with the social graces of royalty. They’d been colleagues and friends since her residency, but she wouldn’t feel comfortable telling him about her fantasy love life. She pulled into the parking lot of the strip medical center where she kept her office.

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