“Mark is your neighbor? The cook?”
“He’s an artist. He illustrates children’s books. Cooking is a hobby.”
“Does Mark know your true identity? Does he think you’re Molly?”
“I am Molly. But if you’re asking if he knows I work under the pen name of Aggie, the answer is yes. He knows. He’s a friend.”
“And I’m not?”
“You’re just some guy I met in the park.” She bent to retrieve her keys at the same time he did.
Her mouth was so close to his he could feel the warmth of her breath, but he knew if he kissed her now she’d probably blacken his eye. And he wouldn’t have blamed her.
“I’m more than that, Molly.”
He kept thinking about the things she’d told him. He imagined her, eight years old, watching as her mother left her, taking the dog she loved. He thought about everything she’d achieved, and how vulnerable she was under the tough, smart exterior. He thought about her naked and uninhibited in his bed and how scared she must have been when she realized that he knew her secret.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth and lingered there for a moment as if she was making a decision. Then she shook her head. “No.”
“No?”
“I am not kissing you.” She stood up, her keys in her hand. “Not going to happen.”
He refrained from pointing out that it had already happened. Several times. “Any particular reason why?”
“Because this relationship has already gone far enough. I hurt you tonight. I saw your face. I have a record of hurting men. You should have seen what I did to Rupert.” She poked the key at the door, missing the lock.
He felt a rush of different emotions. Exasperation, sympathy and tenderness because she obviously thought she was a danger to men. “From what I can see, he was the one who hurt you. He tried to destroy you. Your professional reputation. Your personal life. All of it.”
She stilled. “That’s what happens when you make someone really mad.”
“No. That’s what happens when someone is an asshole. An adult can be angry without throwing a fit.”
“I did warn you it was ugly. And it wasn’t his fault. It was the media. The public.”
Did she really believe that? He looked at her face and decided this wasn’t the time to put her right. “Give me your keys.” He held out his hand but she shook her head.
“I can open my own front door, thank you. It’s best if you leave. And if you’re really a decent person you will forget about what you learned tonight and you’ll forget about me.”
“You’re not an easy woman to forget, Molly.”
“Rupert would agree with you. He told a journalist that he would never get over me, but that he hoped that one day he would learn to live alongside the pain of losing me.”
“Rupert needs to man up. Do my sisters know you’re Aggie?”
“No. Gabe and Mark are the only two people who know apart from my publisher. And now you know. So I’m doomed.” The way she said it tugged at something inside him.
“Why are you doomed?”
“Because I don’t know you, and it’s not a nice feeling being exposed to someone you don’t know.”
“You spent an entire night naked in my bed.” And he couldn’t get a single moment of that night out of his mind.
“That’s an entirely different type of exposure. Physical exposure is nowhere near as scary as emotional exposure.” She swayed slightly. “You can see my naked body any day but I’d rather keep my naked feelings covered up, thank you very much. They don’t look as good as they’re supposed to.” She jabbed at the door again. “My key doesn’t fit. It’s the wrong key. Or maybe it’s the wrong door…” She swayed again and he gently removed the key from her fingers and opened the door.
Valentine squeezed past them and bounded into the apartment, sniffing the floor and wagging his tail.
“Thank you.” Molly followed him in, dropped her purse and shoes and collapsed facedown on the sofa. “You should leave now.”