She hung her lab coat back on a hook and threw her gloves in the garbage before going to get Sara. She found the little girl sipping happily on a juice box as the end credits of the movie scrolled through.
"You've been good. You ready to go?"
"Yup. I had a powernap. I'm hungry."
Molly laughed. "Let's talk to Jason. Maybe we can convince him to let us have a treat."
Together they tidied up the room so it was as neat as it had been when they'd arrived. When they went upstairs, Jason was coming out of the kennel room. "You ladies ready?"
"Uncle Jason, can we go to McDonald's?"
His gaze darted to Molly, and she grinned widely. He sighed, clearly outnumbered. "Drive-thru only, kiddo. I'm too much of a mess to go anywhere. We'll take it home, okay?"
Sara jumped up and down, tugging on Molly's hand. "He said yes! Yippee!"
Molly angled an amused look at Jason. "Someone has lots of energy. She had a powernap."
"Let's go, then. She's always quiet when she's eating."
They drove to the McDonald's in Oromocto, and then went back to Jason's house to eat. Molly set Sara up at the table and went to find Jason. She discovered him in the laundry room amid piles of sorted clothes awaiting his attention. Being a single guy with his own business obviously did not leave a lot of time for domestic chores. She could relate to that. Her laundry basket was constantly full, and there always seemed to be a layer of dust on her furniture thanks to fourteen-hour days. If she got her promotion, she was seriously considering getting a maid to come in once a week.
"Aren't you eating?"
He blushed. "I've gotta change first. This shirt's covered in blood and mud." His dirty bottoms were sitting in a heap on the floor; he now wore clean jeans, but the scrub top had streaks of blood and mud in the pattern of doggie toenails. "I forgot to get a shirt."
"Do you want me to get it?"
"Do you mind?"
She'd been looking for an excuse to snoop through his house. So far she'd only seen part of the downstairs. "Nope."
"T-shirts are third drawer down in the dresser."
"I'll be right back." She left him spraying a prewash treatment on his pants.
Upstairs she found his room. It was dark in the late winter afternoon and she flipped a switch, which turned on a bedside lamp. The bed was made haphazardly; the covers thrown over top of the pillows without much precision. Molly ran her hand over the end of the spread before going to the dresser.
Had he said second or third drawer? Molly hesitated, then curiosity got the better of her and she pulled open the top one. It was, as she expected, his underwear drawer. Cotton briefs, a jumble of sports socks and three neatly folded pairs of dress socks looked up her. Rapidly she pushed the drawer back in.
She opened the next drawer. It was filled with scrubs, some green, some dark blue. She pressed her hand down on the pile of shirts, hitting something hard and square with her hand. She dug beneath the clothes, pulling out a black velvet box. It was familiar—too familiar—and her heart began beating a strange tattoo.
With shaking hands she lifted the lid. The hinge creaked softly in the twilight. Nestled inside was the engagement ring he'd bought for her all those years ago.
It winked up at her, a shining, painful reminder of that day years before when he'd offered it to her and she'd turned it away. That was the one fight they'd had that hadn't been resolved. Yet he'd kept the ring all this time.
With a trembling finger she reached out, touching the bright diamond in the center, flanked by two smaller ones. Why had he kept it? It was an uncharacteristically sentimental thing for him to do. He'd been so angry. She'd always figured he'd gotten rid of it right away. But here it was, sitting in his dresser. A lover's memento. Or a hurtful reminder of mistakes.
He was waiting for his shirt, she realized, probably wondering what was taking her so long. Not wanting him to catch her with the ring, she hurriedly closed the box and shoved it back under the shirts where she'd found it. She grabbed a T-shirt from the next drawer and exited the room, leaving on the light.
At the bottom of the stairs, she halted.
She could see Jason still in the laundry room. Transfixed, she watched as he peeled the scrub shirt over his head and tossed it in the washing machine.
His upper body was absolutely stunning. Each muscle curled into the next, all shadows and curves and dips. He'd always been lean, but in the intervening years he had indeed filled out to be...most impressive.
Her hand gripped the banister as a grand rush of desire flooded through her. This was not supposed to be happening. They were still as different as they ever were, perhaps even more so. Hers was a life of power suits, of legal briefs and corporate dinners, while his consisted of scrubs and labs and fast food on the run. His house was comfortable with curtains that didn't quite match and cookie jars that stood empty.
Her condo was done by a decorator with coordinated accoutrements.
Her life was across the country and his was here. But knowing it didn't stop the wanting. Didn't stop the wondering of why he'd kept her engagement ring, or what that could possibly mean.
Taking a breath, she descended the last three steps, gripping his shirt in her fingers.
He looked up at her approach. Mesmerized, she took one step, then another, closer to him until they stood face to face. She could feel his breath on her skin; see the rise and fall of his chest as his breathing quickened, matching her own. In that moment she regretted, for the first time, the decision she'd made six years ago. This body, this man, this heart—the one she would swear she could hear beating—could have been hers all along.
"I brought your T-shirt," she whispered, then stared at his lips. They were perfectly bowed and slightly open, and the fleeting memory of them on her skin haunted her.
He took the clean shirt out of her hands, then dropped it to the floor. Without missing a beat, he framed her face with his hands and pulled her roughly to him, staring at her lips so intently it was almost as though he were already kissing them.
"We shouldn't..." she breathed.
It was like dousing a fire with kerosene. His fingers slid down her neck and dug into her arms as he plundered her mouth with his. No niceties, no gentle tugs and starts, just raw, pent-up passion.
He danced her across the floor until they reached the laundry room door. Blindly, his mouth still fused to hers, he shut it and turned the handle, locking it.
She had no choice. Her hands slid over the skin on his chest, devouring it, memorizing it. It was different. Bigger and harder and, dear God, much more manly. The man he had been was but a shadow of the one he'd become...and she'd loved the first with all her heart. As his hands cupped her breasts, she knew it would be even harder to walk away from the man he was right now.
His fingers left her breasts and reached for the button of her jeans. She sucked in her belly, allowing him access, moaning as he licked her neck and plunged his hands down inside the backside of the denim. He pulled her closer, moved to untie his own drawstring and she panicked.
Molly pulled away frantically. The kiss at the hospital had been a surprise and the one earlier had been a misguided response to a tense situation, but this one wasn't right. Despite the demands of her body, the need that pulsed through her at this moment, it would be a mistake. It would change nothing for her... She was still Molly the Lawyer who was here only for three weeks. But for Jason—he still kept the ring he'd given her so long ago. She wouldn't, couldn't, trifle with his feelings. She knew as surely as she knew she wanted him that to give in would cause regret on both sides.
"No, Jason." She put a few feet between them, her chest rising and falling heavily with repressed desire. In the intervening years, her temperature had never risen to this level, not with any man. Jason had only begun to touch her and she was feeling like she was ready to combust.
"Are you saying you don't want this?"
She tried to laugh but it came out shaky and far sexier than she wanted. She clamped her mouth shut, trying to think of the right response. "I'll admit my body says yes," she said finally. "But my heart and my head won't let it go there."
He came closer and she backed away, finding herself pinned between his body and the wall. "Jason," she warned.
He leaned forward, teasing his lips over her earlobe. "Just one more kiss, Molly," he whispered, making all the fine hairs on her body stand at attention.
An image of the ring floated before her eyes and despite any regrets she might have to the contrary, the decision had been made long ago to end their relationship. No good could come from rekindling it now. She knew that deep down. She'd made her life. This was a complication she didn't need. It didn't matter what she wanted.
One more kiss would be one too many.
"Nothing's changed," he murmured, his breath warm on her hair. His body slid closer until she could feel his hips pressing against hers. "I still want you, Mol."
His words did the trick. She could get lost in heated actions but admissions of lust had the power to make her stop. She pushed him, squirming away from his arms and the eyes that seemed to see how divided she was.
"But it's different now between us. This wouldn't solve anything."
His eyes burned bright across the few feet that separated them. "I know. It doesn't stop the wanting. It doesn't stop me from wanting to make love to you."
Her heart spun about in her chest. "We moved on." She struggled, unsuccessfully, to keep her voice steady.
"You moved on. I'm still here."
Everything swirled around her as the impact of his words struck her. Had he been stuck in the past all this time? Together with the knowledge of the ring it was too much. If she wasn't careful, next he'd be saying she'd made a mistake and should never have gone to Toronto. And if she wasn't careful, she'd be agreeing with him. She twisted her hands around each other nervously.
"I can't do this. I can't."
"I know you can't."
Her hands stilled. What this was all adding up to was hard to believe. "Are you saying you've never gotten over me?" Even to her ears, that sounded incredibly conceited, but after what he'd said, what she'd found, she had the burning desire to know.
"What if I haven't? We both know that in another week or so you're heading back to Calgary. And, yeah, maybe this isn't wise, but right now I'm not exactly thinking with my head, you know what I mean?" He stood before her, all lean muscle and snug jeans and her stomach flipped.
Lust. It was just lust and perhaps a little nostalgia about how good it had been between them. He wasn't asking for forever. He was asking for a fling. It was a horrible idea that couldn't have a good ending, and it was unlike him to even suggest such a thing. That knowledge made it a little easier for Molly to pull further away.
"We've left Sara far too long."
Jason stared at her for a long moment, his chest heaving. It seemed he couldn't shut off his body any more effectively than she could. Molly let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding as he leaned over to retrieve his shirt from the floor. Her mouth watered. Traitor, she grumbled inwardly, staring at the worn patches on his jeans pockets.
There was a knock on the door, and they both jumped.
"Uncle Jason? Bubbles needs to pee, I think."
Molly avoided his eyes. "You put your stuff in the washer. I'll get Bubbles." And then I'm getting out of here, she thought. She couldn't deal with this right now.
She opened the door, trying to keep her face pleasantly normal for the three-year-old. "Let's let Bubbles outside, okay?"
Sara followed Molly to the patio doors. As the washer started filling, Molly slid open the door and grabbed Bubbles' chain.
"What were you and Uncle Jason doing in there, Aunt Molly?" Sara's voice was sweetly innocent.
"Laundry," Molly replied, and her hands fell still.
In the old days, Jason's apartment had had laundry facilities in the basement, which had meant leaving the apartment for each separate load. On lazy afternoons, while making love, they'd ignore the ringing of the phone, and when asked, they'd always say they'd been "doing laundry."
It had been a long, long time since she'd done laundry with Jason. But she could feel it as if it had been yesterday. She'd admit it to herself now, how close they'd come to doing it again not ten minutes ago.
"How come your face is all red?" Sara persisted, and Molly's smile faltered as she felt her face color further.
Jason emerged from the laundry room, fully clothed and forcing a smile. "Did you eat all the food, muffin?" He ruffled Sara's hair and glanced at the plate with the remnants of a chicken nugget and a few fries stuck in ketchup.
"Nope. Just mine. I got a puzzle in my kid meal."
"Cool. Guess I'll nuke mine."
He glanced in Molly's direction. "Mol? Heat yours for you?" His voice was coolly polite, as if the hot little scene in the laundry room had never happened.
She wanted to say no. But Sara was looking up at her with those pleading brown eyes and she didn't have the heart to simply take off. "I guess. Thanks."
Molly felt nothing like eating but knew she should anyway. The fries were soft from the microwave, the lettuce on her sandwich limp from reheating. But at least her pop was still icy cold. The food filled a hole and gave them something to do in the silence.
She dipped a soggy fry in ketchup and frowned. Why did it have to be him, and why now? He had kept her engagement ring all these years. Safe and snug in a dresser drawer, in the original box. What could it possibly mean? Did he take it out and wonder what if? Or look at it as a reminder of their spectacular failure, a talisman against further mistakes? She looked over at Sara taking the puzzle from the wrapper. Did Jason ever think they could have had a child like Sara?
At the time, she hadn't wanted to think about children, and he'd planned it out.
She started making a list in her mind of all the things that needed doing. Work had always been her shield, and it had been effective. She'd go home and get to work, and the whole Jason problem would disappear.
"Penny for your thoughts."
His voice intruded as Sara busily went to work on the puzzle, her eyebrows knitted together in concentration. Molly took a sip of her soda, avoiding the question as long as she could.
"You don't want to know what I'm thinking." And even if he did, there'd be icicles in you-know-where before she'd tell him. She was thinking he was still carrying a torch for her, a big one. She didn't know what to do with that. She didn't want to hurt him again, of that she was sure. But it looked like she was bound to no matter what she did. They'd already gone too far.
"Perhaps I do."
She stood up and carried her garbage to the receptacle beneath the sink, avoiding the eyes that seemed to follow her everywhere these days. "A girl's gotta have some secrets," she joked weakly, pasting on a smile.
He brought over his own garbage and used it as an excuse to lean in close against her back, his mouth only inches from her ear. "You can't deny what just happened in there," he whispered.
His breath fanned her earlobe and she shivered. "No, of course not. We were both there. But thinking that changes anything...would be a mistake."
She cringed at how cold her voice sounded, but it was necessary. She didn't want Jason. What she wanted was for Kim to get better so she could go back to Calgary and get on with things.
He pulled away. "You're right, of course. You've made it abundantly clear you are only here for a few weeks and then it's back to your previously scheduled life."
Using that cold tone back to her was effective. Despite feeling closer at times, right now she knew they'd never been further apart. It should have been a safe feeling. Instead it made her want to apologize. And not just for tonight. She'd been quick to blame Jason for their breakup, but she carried her own bit of guilt with her. She'd run away. He was right about that. She had packed up and left town without a word, no explanation. The years they'd spent together had deserved more. A better ending. She was ashamed now at how she'd handled it, yet she had no idea how to make amends without making it seem as if she was asking for something.
"Mol?"
She shook her head and turned to see Jason watching her curiously.
"Where did you go just now?"
"A long way away," she replied. She tucked her hands in her pockets. Now was no time to think about closure. Not with Sara here and not when she could still feel his fingers on her skin. "We'd better get going. I'm cleaning house tomorrow. Kim comes home soon and I don't want her to see a war zone."
"The clinic is closed tomorrow. I was hoping the three of us could do something together."
She had to look away from the hope in his eyes. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."
"Why?"
Her voice was low with warning. "You know why."
He looked over at Sara taking the puzzle apart to start again and then back at Molly. "Just an afternoon of something fun. Like sledding, perhaps. There's this hill over at the university..."
"I know the hill," she answered sharply, a little too sharply. Of course she remembered the hill. They'd gone tobogganing there as students, getting cold and wet and, afterward, heading to the SUB—the student union building—for a hot drink. The two of them and some of their friends, laughing and having a marvelous time. Another on a long list of memories.
"Forget it then."
"Jason, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be short with you. This is all just weird for me," she tried, but knew it was a lame attempt at explanation.
"The past is the past, Molly. I thought Sara might enjoy a fun day out, that's all. Hey, for that matter, I can take her myself and then you can get some work done. Don't worry about it."
Then why, suddenly, did she feel like she was being manipulated?