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 I just got here. I want to stay home! she complained,
venting her frustration on one of her couch pillows. Feel­
ing completely juvenile, she reached out and snatched
Merlin from the detective s lap.  All I want to do is eat a
big plate of spaghetti and sleep in my own bed tonight,
she whined, nuzzling the squirming feline.
A Deadly Dealer 189
McDowell was unmoved by the temperamental display.
 How does five minutes sound? We ll leave then.
 I ve missed you so much! Mark pronounced and
wrapped his arms around Molly. She remained standing
stiffly on his doorstep and made no move to return the em­
brace. Unperturbed, Mark took her suitcase and brought it
inside his loft apartment.  I ve ordered takeout from Sushi
Yoshi. Salad with ginger dressing, dumplings, chicken
teriyaki, and rice. And I ve got java chip ice cream for
dessert. I figured you d need some comfort food. He put
her suitcase down in the living room, went into the kitchen,
and poured two glasses of ice water.  This place is a
fortress, you know. He gestured at the brick walls and the
double-paned windows.  Security door, peepholes, my
nosy neighbor who reports everyone from the Domino s
guy to my other neighbor s latest boyfriends to the super.
I m also going to drive you to work, he babbled on most
uncharacteristically.  Every single day, until things are
safe again. Mark chucked her gently on the chin.  Lady,
I m sticking to you like a piece of gum.
 How can you do that? Molly finally found her voice.
 Aren t you supposed to start your residency? she asked
crossly.
Mark sat down on one of the stools facing his kitchen
counter.  If keeping you safe means not becoming a doctor
right now, then so be it.
Molly looked down at her water glass and began tracing
the ring of moisture it left on the counter with her index
finger. She said nothing, punishing Mark with her silence.
 Look, he said gently.  I know you re mad at me and
you have every right to be. I should have included you in
my decision because my decision was really influenced by
you.
190 J. B. Stanley
 Oh? How do you figure? Molly asked sharply.
 There was a clear limit to how far I could go working
as a marketing director for Collector s Weekly. The income
was fine for a bachelor, but it s not the kind of salary I d
need to be making as say, a husband, or . . . a father. Mark
covered her hand with his. Despite herself, Molly began to
thaw as she saw the sincerity in his blue eyes.  You know I
love you, Molly Appleby.
Unwanted tears appeared in Molly s eyes.  I know. I m
sorry I yelled at you. It s just that . . . I got scared. Without
seeing you at work, I ll be with you so much less. With all
of my traveling, it s been hard enough to find time to be to­
gether.
Mark squeezed her fingers.  It s going to get even
harder. The hours I m going to be spending at the hospital
and at the library doing research. . . Molly, it s going to be
a real test of our relationship.
 Great. she sighed.  That s something to look forward
to. First, I can be stalked by a murderer and then I can
spend the next year watching Sex in the City reruns while
eating frozen dinners with my cats.
 It s only for a year, Mark said soothingly.  Then I fig­
ure, he drank a gulp of water as if his throat suddenly had
grown dry,  we should get married.
Molly s face lit up with a radiant smile.  Most people
get engaged first, you know.
 I know. He kissed her.  But some things have to be
left a surprise. I ve got my plans, but they re a secret.
Just as Molly put her arms around Mark, her mind
swimming with visions of a Christmas engagement, the
buzzer by his apartment door sounded.  That ll be our
dinner. You stay here, Mark warned. He picked up his
wallet and a baseball bat and went out into the hall to
meet the deliveryman at the outer door. Molly sat at the
counter, staring at her empty ring finger and grinning like
a fool.
A Deadly Dealer 191
* * *
A week later Molly was still trying to get used to Mark s
empty office at work. He dropped her off each day as
promised, hours earlier than she wanted, and then Clayton
would deliver her to the library at Duke University, where
she would wait until long after dinner for Mark to arrive.
The arrangement had its ups and downs. On one hand,
Molly had gotten a great deal of writing accomplished
three lengthy articles about Heart of Dixie and a colorful
piece on the tailgate show. The e-mails had already begun
pouring in as a response to her memorial piece on Tom
Barnett, and the cover story on his mysterious death com­
bined with Cotton s stabbing had the phones ringing off
the hook. Ad sales had doubled for the following month
and Swanson had even bought pizza for all the employees
on Wednesday. Despite these successes, Molly was grow­
ing tired of living such a restricted schedule. After all, eat­
ing takeout at nine or ten every night was well past her
customary dinner hour and her plans for beginning a diet
had completely evaporated.
 I m worried about my cats, Molly confided to Clayton
as he handed her an iced chai tea.
 I don t know how you can allow that stuff to pass your
lips, he grimaced.  Coconut milk? Ew! Clayton exam­
ined the thick layer of foam on his vanilla soy latté.  Per­
fection.
 You should talk, Mr. Soy. Ew! Molly mocked her
friend.  Anyway, I was talking about my cats. . . .
 Oh please, your little furballs will be fine. And speak­
ing of fur, did you get a load of our new marketing direc­
tor? I ve seen chimps with less back hair. I mean, it was
creeping out of his shirt like the weeds growing in my veg­
etable garden. Clayton inspected his manicured nails.  I
was hoping for someone more like Mark and less like
Swineson. Instead, we get an extra from Planet of the
192 J. B. Stanley
Apes. Why, the man can t even speak except in monosylla­
bles. How is he going to sell anything. Sales takes pizzazz
and charisma, not grunts!
Molly laughed.  And what is the primate s name?
 Hairy, with an i. Clayton giggled.  Actually, it s Troy
something or other.
Slurping the dregs of her tea, Molly could feel the sug­
ary concoction coursing through her system.  Speaking of
new men in our lives, how is the divine young man you met
at the wine bar last weekend? I ve been so self-absorbed
I forgot to ask. Sorry.
Clayton beamed, displayed a perfect row of stark-white
choppers.  Jayson with a y is simply delicious! We are hav­
ing such fun! The only thing is, he s been acting so weird
the last few days. He says it s not anything I did as if
and that it s a work problem. But darling, how traumatizing
can it be to work for a folk art dealer? He doesn t have to
deal with the likes of Swanson! His boss isn t even there
half the 
 Clayton! Molly roughly seized his arm.  Didn t you
say that Jayson works for a folk art dealer in Chapel Hill?
 Yes! Now let go of the silk, you little minx. He
frowned as he scrutinized his shirt, which was the color of [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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