The Christmas Wedding Ring

* * *

Dylan Black slammed down the phone and glared at it.

Evie, his assistant, raised her dark eyebrows.

“Destroying the office equipment doesn’t seem overly productive to me, but then, I’m just the hired help.”

Dylan leaned back in his chair. “Tell me about it.” He looked at her. “They’re making the deal too hard to resist. I can’t decide if I’m moving forward or selling my soul to the devil.”

“If they’re the devil, his prices have gone up. Most people I know would sell their souls for a lot less than several million dollars.”

Dylan had to agree. But then, many people put much too low a price on their souls. He wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly why they were tempting him—they wanted what he had. For them, this was a win-win situation. But what was it for him?

Evie shook her head. “You’ve got that pensive look about you. I hate it when you get like that, so I’m going to head back to the front office. If you need anything, buzz me.”

“I will, thanks.”

She closed the door behind her.

Dylan turned his chair until he was staring out the window. The rugged, dry wilderness of the California desert stretched out behind the one-story complex. His critics said that establishing his custom motorcycle design firm, Black Lightning, out in the middle of Riverside had been a huge mistake. But the land had been cheap, there was a good labor pool and Dylan had wanted plenty of open space around him. It got hot as hell in the summer and he was nearly two hours from the Los Angeles International Airport, but all that was a small price to pay for autonomy. He’d poured everything he had into the company. In less than five years, he’d proved his critics wrong. Now he was touted as a visionary in the industry—the magician who set the trends. So why was he thinking of selling out?

He already knew the reason, and it had nothing to do with magic or even the devil. He was willing to sell his company because the deal on the table was too sweet to pass up. Not only was he being offered an obscene amount of money, but he had a guaranteed position in the new firm. He would finally have the resources to do all the research he wanted. He could design to his heart’s content. All those projects that had been on the back burner could finally be explored. He would be a fool to pass up the offer.

Except for one detail. Along with the money and the new job offer came a boss to answer to. Dylan knew himself well enough to realize that would be a problem. The question was how big of one and could he live with the consequences? He would gain resources and lose control of Black Lightning. His lawyer had been on his back for weeks. After all, this was the chance of a lifetime.

But his gut kept whispering that he had to wait and think this through. After all, he’d been the one to work twenty-hour days for all those years. The innovative designs were his. He’d taken the bikes on the racing circuit, sometimes giving them to riders so that new systems could be tested under the most grueling conditions. He’d poured himself into the company. How could he sell that? It would be like selling an arm or a leg.

Money versus principles. An age-old dilemma. Philosophers had been discussing that issue back when the earth’s crust was still cooling. So which was it to be?

This would, he admitted, be a whole lot easier if he wasn’t so much of a cynic. Years ago, when he’d still been a dreamer, he would have been insulted by the implication that he could be bought. If his then lawyer had even hinted at a buyout, Dylan would have shown him the door, then fired his corporate ass. When had life ceased to be so simple?

“The hell with it,” he muttered, figuring he didn’t have to decide right now. The interested company had given him until December 23rd to set up a preliminary meeting. If he still refused by Christmas, they were withdrawing their offer. So he would wait until something changed, until he knew which side to fall on. In the meantime, there were reports to review.

He turned back to his computer, then started tapping on keys. He’d just lost himself in the quarterly statements, when Evie buzzed him on the intercom.

“You have a visitor,” she said. “Molly Anderson. She doesn’t have an appointment, Dylan, but she says you’ll remember her from several years ago.”

It took him a second, then the memories clicked in place. Little Molly, Janet’s baby sister. He did remember her, with her pale, curly hair and big eyes. She’d been a sweet kid. He recalled she’d had a crush on him. Usually that kind of stuff annoyed him, but in Molly’s case he’d been flattered. Maybe because in her case he’d known exactly what she’d wanted from him. She’d been easy to read, and had had a basically good heart. He couldn’t say that about many people these days.

“Send her in,” he said.

He rose to his feet and crossed the room. By the time Evie opened his office door, he was there to welcome Molly. He had his arm extended and his smile ready. But the woman who stepped into the office wasn’t the teenager he remembered.

She was still on the short side, maybe five foot four. Her curly hair had grown longer and she’d tamed it in a braid. Light makeup accentuated her large hazel brown eyes. He remembered she’d had bad skin as a kid, but time had changed that and now her cheeks glowed with natural color. Her smile was bright, her walk confident. A long-sleeved shirt and jeans accentuated a body that was generously curvy.

“Miss Anderson,” Evie said, and left them alone.

“Little Molly’s all grown up,” he said, amazed she was here.

The woman in front of him nodded.

“I haven’t been called that in a long time. I guess you’re surprised to see me.”

“I am. Pleasantly.” He decided a handshake wasn’t right for the situation. After all, this was Molly. He held out his arms. “For old times’ sake?”

She came the half step forward and he embraced her. She was warm and cushioned, and holding her wasn’t halfbad. But she seemed a little stiff and awkward, so he moved away and motioned for her to take a seat on the leather sofa placed in the corner of his office. Then he crossed to the wet bar by the bookcases.

“Soda? Wine?”

She shook her head. “No, thanks.”

He settled next to her and rested one booted ankle on the opposite knee. He didn’t have many unexpected visitors, and certainly not any blasts from his past. The intrusion didn’t bother him. If anything, he was curious. “What brings you out here?”

She sat with her hands in her lap, her fingers twisting together. “I’m not sure. I guess it was an impulse on my part. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. It’s been years.”

She nodded. “Fourteen. Not that I’ve been keeping track.”

“You’ve grown up. You were always an adorable kid, but now you’re a lovely woman.” The line sounded smooth and sincere. Lines had always been easy for him.

She laughed. “And you’re still as charming as ever. The truth is, I was homely, but I’ve improved some. I’ll never be a cover model, but I’m okay with that.”

He studied her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d thought about Molly, or even Janet, who at one time had been the love of his life, or so it had seemed when he was twenty.

She angled toward him. “I was talking with my sister and your name came up. I wondered how you were doing and I was heading out this way, so I thought I’d stop by. Is that too weird?”

“Not at all. I’m glad you did. So tell me about Molly Anderson. You’re still using the same last name, so either you’re not married or you’re modern and independent, refusing to be shackled by society’s expectations.”

She gave him a smile that didn’t seem to reach her eyes. “Not married. Let’s see. I have a degree in accounting and I’ve been working as an accounts receivable supervisor for a telecommunications company in Mischief Bay. I have the usual habits, both good and bad. I hear you’re doing well.”

He motioned to the office. “I design motorcycles. I didn’t know I could make a living at something I love, so I’m generally happy.”

Except for right now, he conceded, but he wasn’t going to think about the decisions he had to make. Molly was an unexpected and surprisingly delightful distraction. He was suddenly pleased she’d looked him up.

He glanced at his watch. It was nearly noon. “If you have time,” he said, “I’d love to take you to lunch. There’s a great place about a mile down the road. Not much to look at, but they have the best hamburgers in the county.” He grinned. “We can catch up with each other’s lives, and I won’t even make you ride on a motorcycle to get there.”

“Sounds great,” she said.

Thirty minutes later they were in a window booth of the restaurant. Santa Claus, painted on the glass beside them, ate a cheeseburger while Rudolph looked on, licking his lips. The waitress had already brought them drinks and taken their order. Carols played softly in the background, and it was early enough in the season that they hadn’t grown annoying yet. Molly was working her way through a margarita, while Dylan sipped his beer. He didn’t usually drink in the middle of the day and he still had lots of work waiting for him back at the office, but he’d joined her when she’d ordered her drink.

As he watched Molly, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Something about the way she kept glancing at him made him wonder why she’d come to see him. Her body was stiff, as if she were uncomfortable. She’d dodged all but his most basic questions, as though she didn’t want to talk about her personal life.

He felt the attention of the other patrons. The town was small enough that everyone knew everyone else, if not by name then by sight. He didn’t bring many women to this place, and those he did bring were nothing like Molly. He had a definite type—leggy and brunette. He’d formed a fondness for that kind of woman when he’d dated Molly’s sister, Janet.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Molly said.

Dylan shook his head. “I doubt that.”

“You’re wondering why I’m here. I mean, I’m sure it’s nice to see me and all, but what do I want?”

Good guess on her part. Possibilities flashed through his mind. Money? A job? Sperm? The last thought almost made him smile. It didn’t matter how many years had gone by—there was no way he could imagine little Molly asking anyone for sperm.

“Actually, I do want something,” she said, and reached for her purse. She dug around inside and pulled out a small item, then tossed it on the table. “Sort of.”

Dylan hadn’t known what to expect, but he was stunned when he saw a gold wedding band lying on the dark wood. “This is so sudden,” he said, going for the joke because he wasn’t sure what to say.

“It’s not what you think,” Molly told him.

“Good, because I don’t know what to think.”

“Do you remember the ring?”

He picked it up. “Of course.” He’d only ever bought one wedding ring in his life. It had been for Janet, back when he’d known that if he had to try to go on without her, he would die. Obviously, he’d been wrong. Time was a great healer. So were life’s lessons.

“I got it for your sister,” he said.

“Then you gave it to me, the day she got married.”

He nodded. Thinking that actually seeing part of the ceremony would heal the last of his wounds, he’d gone to the church. Molly had come out to tell him goodbye. He recalled tossing her the ring, but he couldn’t remember why.

She drew in a deep breath. “I didn’t want you to go. There were assorted reasons, but the only one I was willing to tell you was that you’d promised me an adventure when I grew up. So you handed me the ring and said that when I was ready for that adventure, I was to bring this to you.” She cleared her throat. Color stained her cheeks, and she ducked her head so that she was staring at the table. “Well, I’m ready if you’re still willing.”

Chapter Two

Molly felt as though someone had installed a blender in her stomach. As if the almost violent sloshing and churning weren’t enough, she had the horrible feeling she was going to throw up. Now that would be a pleasant visual for Dylan to remember.

Nerves, she told herself. It was just nerves. That and tequila on a very empty stomach. Whatever had she been thinking? The problem was, of course, she hadn’t been thinking. She hadn’t allowed herself, because no normal, sane person would have asked Dylan what she’d just asked him. She wouldn’t be surprised if he excused himself and called 911—asking that they bring those people in the white coats.

She forced herself to look at the way his dark eyes had widened slightly. He didn’t exactly look ready to bolt, which was very nice, considering. She doubted she would have been as polite in his position.

She cleared her throat. “If it makes you feel any better, I can’t believe I said that.”

“So we have something in common.”

At least he hadn’t lost his sense of humor. “Okay, it’s crazy—I admit that. You probably think I’m crazy, too. Maybe I am, but don’t worry, I’m not dangerous.”

He rested the ring in the palm of his hand and stared at it. Molly found her gaze drawn to the row of calluses at the base of his fingers. He’d obviously spent a lot of time doing physical labor. She had a feeling that the first few years he was in business, he’d done most of the assembling himself. Probably late at night, alone in a warehouse somewhere. Dylan had always been determined and driven. She doubted that had changed. He wasn’t the sort of man who gave in easily, nor did he get to be as successful as he obviously was by listening to harebrained schemes. He was going to tell her no.

She turned that thought over in her mind. She was surprisingly okay with it. It was enough that she’d asked. For once, she’d taken the initiative—she hadn’t waited. She’d gone after something that was important to her. Maybe there was hope. A sense of pride filled her and she squared her shoulders. This was a tiny step toward the new life she wanted for herself.

“Here you go,” the waitress said, placing huge platters with oversized burgers and a mountain of crisp, golden steak fries in front of each of them. She pulled bottles of catsup and mustard out of one apron pocket and a handful of extra paper napkins out of the other. “Enjoy.” She gave them a broad smile and left.

The food smelled great. Molly’s stomach growled in anticipation, but she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to choke down a bite.

Dylan applied mustard to the inside of the top of the bun, then settled the bread in place. But he made no move to pick up his burger. He raised his gaze to her face.

“Why?” he asked.

She knew she could pretend not to understand what he was asking, but that was too much like cheating. Why? A simple question. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a simple answer. At least not one she was willing to share with him. It was too personal and too humiliating. But he did deserve an explanation of some kind.

She took the mustard and shook out a dollop, then smoothed it on the toasted top bun. “I’ve reached an impasse in my life. There are a lot of things I have to think about, some decisions that have to be made. I can’t seem to focus on anything, so I decided to get away. I go to Janet’s every year for Christmas, but I didn’t want to disrupt her family for two whole weeks beforehand. I had no idea what to do or where to go.”

“There’s always the North Pole,” he said.

She gave him a half smile. Her lips were still a little numb from the margarita. “I suppose, but I think I’m a bit old to run away to the North Pole. Besides, I’ve never been that fond of penguins. They scare me.”

“Pretty sure they live at the South Pole,” he said.

“Polar bears, then.” She picked up her burger, then set it back on the plate. “As I said, I hadn’t decided where to go, but I figured inspiration would come to me, so I started packing. While I was going through my drawers, I found the ring. It gave me an idea, so here I am.”

If the truth be told, she was starting to be a little sorry she’d given in to the impulse. What on earth had she been thinking? She supposed she actually hadn’t been thinking at all. “I’ve already confessed that it was crazy. I don’t usually give in to impulses, so I can’t explain this one. I guess I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry, Dylan. Forget I ever said anything. I’m sure you’re as busy as everyone is over the holiday season.”

She pushed the plate away and wondered how she could make a graceful exit. After all, they’d driven to the restaurant in Dylan’s sleek, expensive car. Even if it wasn’t too far to walk back, she didn’t have a clue where his office was.

He picked up a steak fry and ate it. “I haven’t said no yet.”

She felt her eyes widen. “You can’t be considering what I’m asking.”

“I might be.” He grinned.

This smile was different from the one he’d given her when he’d first seen her. That one had been pleasant and welcoming, but more impersonal. This one was a thousand watts of male trouble in the making. She felt the heat clear down to her toes. She was sure that if she looked, she would see little puffs of smoke drifting out of her loafers.

“You realize if you even consider doing this you’re crazy, too,” she said.

“It won’t be the first time someone has called me that.” He took a bite of his burger and chewed. Molly told herself to stop staring, but she couldn’t seem to make her eyes behave. Some of her sadness and fear lifted. It was enough that he hadn’t flat-out refused her. No matter what, she would remember this brief time, and when reality got too ugly, she would pull out this memory to make her smile.

Sunlight filtered into the restaurant through the painted window. A sunbeam illuminated Dylan like a spotlight on a movie set. He was handsome enough to be the leading man, she thought, pleased that although he’d matured, he still looked as wonderful and perfect as ever. There was something very pleasant about spending a few hours in the presence of a good-looking man. It didn’t matter that they were physically mismatched or that she wasn’t even close to being his type. This wasn’t about wanting him in the way she had when she’d just been fourteen and deeply enamored with all things Dylan.

Aesthetically, he appealed to her. The dark hair, worn short—not even to his collar. Years before, it had touched his shoulders. She decided she liked the more conservative style better. His eyes were as she remembered, although there were a few faint lines in the corners. His mouth was firm, his jaw well shaped. The gold earring was gone. He’d filled out a little. From the hints of movement under his dress shirt and suit slacks, he was in the same great shape as before. He was still the most amazing man she’d ever met.

He had a confidence about him that spoke of his power. It was probably for the best that they didn’t go away together. After all, she doubted her hormones were any more controllable than they had been fourteen years earlier. The last thing she needed in her life was to deal with having a crush on him. It would be silly.

A voice in her head whispered that right now she could use a little silliness, but she ignored the words.

Maybe they could skip the trip and simply fall into bed together. A night of great sex would clear her sinuses for a month.

Molly picked up her drink and took another sip. What was wrong with her? She knew better than to wish for the moon. Men like Dylan Black were interested in women like her sister. They wanted leggy, slender females with model-perfect faces. She was not that.

Some people thought her wavy-curly hair was unusual, but she thought it was a pain, which is why she usually tied it back in a braid. Her hazel brown eyes were what she referred to as the color of “rain-washed mud.” She had a decent smile, even though her mouth was too small. Her nose was too big, but her ears were cute. Her skin was clear now—adolescence had not been good for her skin. Then there was the matter of those twenty pounds she’d been trying to lose since she was born. In a world of size-eight beauties, she was a frumpy size twelve.

“You’re looking fierce about something,” Dylan said.

“It’s not important.”

His good humor faded. “Are you in trouble, Molly? Are you on the run from something?”

She was, but not in the way he meant the question. Besides, she wasn’t about to explain about all that.

“If you’re asking if I’ve committed a felony, the answer is no,” she told him. “I am on the run, but only from myself. I haven’t done anything wrong.” And that was part of the problem, she thought. If only she had a few regrets about things she’d done, rather than wasting all her regret on what she’d never gotten around to doing. “I just wanted to get away.”

Which she was still going to do, regardless of what he said. She put down her margarita and leaned toward him. “Haven’t you ever felt the world closing in on you? It’s like no matter where you turn or what you do, there’s no escape. It feels like nothing is changing or is ever going to, yet the reality is that nothing is the same.” She shrugged. “I know I’m not making any sense.”

Dylan stared at her. “You would be surprised at how much sense you are making.”

“I just want to run away for a few days,” she continued. “A week or two, tops. I want a chance to clear my head, to think things through.” She gave him another half smile. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and figure out a way to be someone else.”

“Who would you want to be?”

“Anybody but me.”

“Why is it so bad being Molly Anderson?”

Ah, more questions she would not answer. “You’re going to have to trust me on that one, Dylan. It just is.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Molly thought about eating a French fry, but she really wasn’t hungry. It must be the nerves. Gee, if she kept this up for a few months, she might lose those twenty pounds.

“Your timing is interesting,” Dylan said, and leaned back in the booth. He picked up his bottle of beer and took a sip.

“In what way?” she asked.

“I’m wrestling with some difficult decisions myself. Mostly about my business.” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “I won’t bore you with the details, but for many reasons, I’m at a crossroads right now, too.”

His dark gaze was intense. She felt as if he were staring into her soul. She wanted to look away because she knew he wouldn’t find a whole lot there to impress him. She wished she were someone different, someone wonderful and interesting, so that a man like Dylan would want her. But she knew the truth. She was just Molly—bright but not brilliant, nice, sometimes funny. She wasn’t wildly attractive, or witty, or charming, or any of those things that usually drew men like him. She was, at best, ordinary.

If only she were beautiful, like Janet. Or skinny, again like Janet. She bit back a smile. If Janet were here, she would tease her sister about being way too annoying to love. Her humor faded as she thought about how wonderful her sister had been through all this. Molly was so grateful they’d finally come to terms with their relationship and that they were close.

“What did you have in mind for your adventure?” Dylan asked.

If Molly had been drinking at that moment, she would have spit across the table. As it was, she could only stare at him in wide-eyed shock. “Excuse me?”

“Your adventure.” He picked up the ring and held it out. “That’s why you’re here. What did you want to do?”

Had she suddenly lost her hearing, or had Dylan really asked that question? Was he serious about this?

Molly opened her mouth, then closed it. Her mind stayed blank. “You’re agreeing?”

“I’m considering. There’s a difference. I want to know what you had in mind.”

Molly shifted in her seat, torn between wild excitement and bone-numbing trepidation. It was one thing to think about an adventure with Dylan—fantasies were fun and safe. But this was real life. Was she actually willing to go away with him? After all, she hadn’t seen him in fourteen years. He was a stranger. She would be insane—