The Groom's Revenge by Susan Crosby Read Free Book Online

buried to her, it didn’t exist. Life hadn’t begun for her until the day she’d become Mrs. James McGuire.
    Life had yet to begin for Gray.
    He shut down the computer without replying to the e-mail. It was Friday night. Date night. And Gray intended to enjoy it.
     
    “Just because I haven’t been on a picnic doesn’t mean I don’t know how it works,” Gray said as he helped Mollie spread out a blanket that had probably been dragged along on a hundred picnics, given the tattered softness of the fabric. The evening was perfect, warm enough that Mollie wore shorts, and breezy enough to mold her blouse to her breasts.
    “You eat fried chicken,” he continued, “potato salad and pickles, then watermelon for dessert. And you spit the seeds on the ground. Then you lie back on the blanket and groan about how much food you ate while you watch the fireworks.”
    “You helped me pack the basket, so you know you got the food all wrong. And if you spit watermelon seeds on the ground, they sprout. It’s annoying.”
    “But fireworks,” he said. “There have to be fireworks”
    “If you want ’em, you’ll have to provide ’em.”
    She bent to straighten a corner of the blanket, her legs pale and smooth, her rear an appealing focal point. Fireworks, indeed, but in the form of one Mollie Shaw, human sparkler.
    They created sandwiches of fresh bakery bread, smoked turkey, two kinds of cheeses and a dark, tangy mustard. Other containers yielded pasta salad, fresh and marinated vegetables, and watermelon, already cut into bite-size pieces Then rich, chocolaty brownies, so moist and gooey they had to lick the chocolate off their fingers. And the California white zinfandel wine they drank managed to complement all the different flavors.
    Mollie lay flat on her back. “I’m so full,” she groaned She’d nursed one glass of wine throughout the meal, having no intention of being tipsy again. He probably already thought she was too young for him, if his indulgent smile was any indication. Of some consolation was the fact he seemed to be losing some of his seriousness. Neither of them spoke of their e-mail exchange the night before, when they’d written things to each other that they never would have said aloud. She wished she’d known how to print them off and save them.
    She glanced toward Gray as he rested his back against a tree and watched some children play nearby, hollering and laughing, bringing a smile to his face. She wondered how rare it was for him to relax. He took a sip of wine, then stretched his arm across his upraised knee, letting the half-full wineglass dangle from his fingers. His eyes closed.
    Mollie closed hers, as well, feeling the warm evening drift over her.
    “You’re easy to be with,” he said after a while.
    She stirred, rolling to her side and propping her head on her hand. His words answered a question she’d been pondering—why did a man with his many responsibilities have so much time to spend with her? Answer? Because she didn’t demand anything from him.
    “I suppose people always want something from you.”
    “Pretty much.”
    “Ever thought about changing your life?”
    It took him a few seconds to answer. “Now and then.”
    “What brings you to the Twin Cities?”
    “I’m considering acquiring a company here.”
    “Acquiring, as in buying it? Or taking over?” She regretted asking the questions, because he lost his contented look.
    “Whatever works.”
    “Yet you have time to teach me computers.”
    “Not a hardship, I assure you,” he said He slid down to stretch out beside her, facing her. “You’re the best kind of student”
    “What kind is that?”
    “Balky.”
    “Me? Why, Mr. McGuire, I’m the easiest-going woman you’d ever hope to meet.”
    “Balky,” he repeated, matter of fact
    “Well, you’re pushy.”
    “Only when I know I’m right” He refilled her wineglass, then looked at her. “I’m going home tomorrow.”
    Her heart skipped. “Will you