“I never called you that.”
“To my face,” she challenged.
“Or behind your back. And there’s something else. Your glasses are gone. No offense, Molly, you’re a knockout now. But you have to admit, in high school you wouldn’t have won any beauty contests.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Then why did you hang out with me?”
Uh-oh. Now he was on thin ice. He couldn’t tell her the truth. What she had on him was bad enough and he hoped she’d never find out the rest—for her sake, and because he wasn’t the same person he’d been back then, someone desperate for a way out of Charity City.
And that was when it hit him. The woman he’d fallen in love with, the one he’d thought loved him back, was just as shallow as the person he used to be. Wasn’t that just a healthy dose of poetic justice! But he couldn’t tell Molly any of that.
Once again, honesty was the best policy. “I hung out with you because you were smart and funny. And sweet.” It hadn’t started out that way, but eventually it had become the truth.
“Ah, the old you-have-a-great-personality defense.”
“It’s true. At least, it was then. I’m not so sure now.”
She pushed off the doorjamb and looked at him skeptically. “You’re telling me that Des O’Donnell, big man on campus who could have had any girl he wanted, hung out with me because he liked me?”
“In a nutshell? Yeah,” he said.
“I find that hard to believe. Teenage boys are notoriously shallow. You’re no longer a teenage boy,” she said, swallowing as her gaze dropped to the center of his chest. “But I suspect you haven’t changed much.”
“We haven’t seen each other in years. You know nothing about the person I am now. Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?” he asked, resting his hands on his hips.
“Leopards don’t change their spots.”
“That’s not true.” He thought about his words and said, “Technically it’s true. But your implication that I couldn’t have changed is wrong.”
“Depends on whose truth you’re talking about. Mine is that you’re the same self-centered, egotistical person you were in high school.”
“And you’re not willing to give me the benefit of the doubt?”
“I don’t think so. You’ve already revealed your character to me. Going back for seconds isn’t especially bright. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.”
“Speaking of character, I’m not in the habit of inviting married women to dinner. I said that before I found out you’re not single.”
“I’m divorced,” she clarified.
Now why in the world should that information make him happy? Clearly she was hostile toward him and at the very least reluctant to cut him any slack. But the fact was, he was glad she wasn’t married. “Okay. Then will you reconsider having dinner with me tonight?”
“No. Now if you’ll excuse me, Des, I’ve got things to do.” She started to close the door.
He put his palm against it, refusing to let her dismiss him. He knew she wasn’t inclined to let bygones be bygones. He couldn’t blame her. Didn’t he feel the same about not repeating his own mistake? But he had a job to do and he intended to get it done. For that, he needed her cooperation. And he fully intended to get it.
“Look, Molly, I’m going to put all my cards on the table.”
“That would be a first,” she muttered.
“Obviously you don’t think very much of me. And believe it or not, I can’t say I blame you. But here’s the thing. I’m going to be doing the new preschool wing. Whether you approve or not.”
“It’s a pity no one asked for my opinion.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “I can’t believe I said that. Isn’t bringing out the worst in me enough reason for you to give up?”
“No. You don’t have to agree with the decision, but, like it or not, we’re going to have to work together. It would be more pleasant and certainly far more efficient if we could do that as friends.”
“Friends is asking too much.” She sighed. “But I’m committed to this school. And the expansion is important. So, for the sake of that, I agree that an armed truce is necessary in achieving the goal that we both want.”
Des nodded. “I’m glad there’s something we agree on.” Instinct told him to press his advantage. “To that end, we need to discuss the project and how it will affect your classroom.”
“All right.” She caught her top lip between her teeth as she thought for a moment. “Come by tomorrow and we can talk about it.”
“Third time’s the charm. What about dinner? It would give us an opportunity to go over things without interruption. That’s hard to do with the kids around.”
“Apparently I haven’t made myself clear.” She settled her hand on her hip and met his gaze. “I love my job. And I’m devoted to the children in my care.”
“I can see that.”
“I would do anything to improve this facility and give even more children an opportunity for a positive beginning to their education.”
“Great. I know this restaurant in town—”
She held up her hand. “Dinner is not part of the armed truce. Whatever we need to talk about can be discussed on school grounds.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way.”
Des found he truly meant that. The prospect of getting to know the grown-up Molly was intriguing because she was more than just a pretty face. She was intelligent, witty and a complicated woman. He had a fleeting regret that he’d probably destroyed any chance with her.
She started to close the door again. “So, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do to get ready for tomorrow.”
“Okay. I’ll see you then.”
He backed up and she shut the door in his face. Out in the cold. And dark. And Des didn’t much like it. Since when had he become the kind of guy who rolled over and played dead when things didn’t go his way? He wasn’t his father. Failure wasn’t an option. He would find a way to get on Miss Molly’s good side.
On her way home Molly stopped at the supermarket next door to her apartment complex. When the automatic doors whispered open, she grabbed a basket and headed for the pasta aisle to pick up a whole-wheat rigatoni and a jar of marinara sauce.
The fact that she had nothing at home for dinner hadn’t even tempted her to accept Des’s invitation. What had tempted her was his devil-may-care grin and in-your-face sex appeal. She’d taken cover behind her anger and effectively quelled any possible leftover weakness from her own young-and-stupid days. So why didn’t she feel more empowered about turning him down? Probably she needed her head examined.
As she walked toward the produce aisle, an image of Des popped into her head. He’d seemed surprised by her refusal to have dinner with him, which convinced her he didn’t know she knew about the bribe from her father. If she’d told him she knew everything, that would have certainly cleared up his confusion. But bringing up the past would only resurrect her humiliation. Who wanted to remember being such a disappointment to Daddy that he’d felt he had to buy her popularity? Where was the win in reminding Des about that?
No, the past was the past. But avoiding Des in the present was impossible because of the preschool expansion. She simply had to suck it up and tough it out. Then go on with her life as if Des had never come back into