Clearly, once the police said it was okay, Sonya had cleaned up the office and replaced the broken things Paul had trashed.
“So what are we looking for exactly?” Molly asked.
“I’m not sure.” Hunter shoved one drawer closed and pulled out another. “I’ll know it when I find it.”
“That’s helpful.” She pulled out books, flipped through the pages and replaced each on the shelf. “I’m thinking we need to figure out what Paul did with the money, right? Because the police don’t know and they don’t seem to care.”
He pored over the papers and bills on the desk. She had a point, but it was a rhetorical one and he chose not to answer.
“The money trail might lead to the real killer…” She continued talking despite his silence.
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She’d settled into a chair across the room and was digging through a bowl of matchbooks for clues. Though he wasn’t about to tell her so now, Molly had good instincts. The matches might yield clues to places Paul liked to frequent.
“My mother used to collect matchbooks of all the upscale restaurants she’d been to over the years,” she mused aloud.
Hunter gritted his teeth and resigned himself to listening to her ramble. He knew she hoped to engage him in conversation, anything to let her know he’d put their argument behind him. He wasn’t ready to indulge her.
“When I was younger, I’d take the matchbooks out and imagine myself in my mother’s place.” She closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair, lost in memories. “At first I’d pretend my mother would take me along with her to all these elegant restaurants, hotels and spas, and show me off to her friends. Then later, I’d fantasize about some rich, handsome prince taking me instead.”
She ran her tongue over the lips he’d kissed. Lips that could still entice him, arouse him and frustrate him all at one time.
“But when I got old enough to see my mother for who she really was, I decided either I’d be wealthy enough to pay for the luxury places on my own or I wouldn’t go at all. I wasn’t going to be dependent on men the way my mother had been.” A satisfied smile curved her lips before she opened her eyes and immediately blushed, startled to find him staring.
“Sorry. I got carried away.” She glanced down and began rifling through the matchbooks that had caused the trip into the past.
Seconds before, he’d been hurt and angry. Now he was grateful for the sudden insight. He imagined her as a little girl yearning for her mother’s love, wishing with everything inside her she could be enough for the beautiful woman in the fancy clothes, who cared about her lifestyle more than her daughter. He wanted to hug her and promise nobody would hurt her again, but he still had some lingering resentment.
Hunter cleared his throat and Molly glanced up again. For a brief moment, their gazes met and held. The lies and the lack of trust dissolved in the heat of the attraction and yearning they both still felt. He couldn’t deny how much he wanted her.
He also couldn’t forget how badly she’d just burned him. Again. “You’re nothing like your mother,” he told her.
She treated him to a warm smile.
“But I wouldn’t kid yourself, Molly. You’re not as independent as you’d like to believe.” He gentled his voice but was determined to lay it on the line for her.
Her smile slowly disappeared. “I don’t understand.”
Although it had taken him some time, he’d finally figured her out. Finding her father and being accepted into his family hadn’t changed her as much as she wanted to believe.
Hunter propped his elbow on the desk and leaned forward. “You’re as dependent on your family as your mother is on her men. Every decision you make is dictated by someone else’s reaction. Last year it was your mother’s, now it’s your father’s. You’re so paralyzed by the fear of losing your family’s love and respect that you don’t think about what choices you want to make.” And until she got past her hang-ups, Molly couldn’t have a serious, long-term relationship with any man, whether she realized that fact or not.
Having had his say, he straightened the mess of papers in his hand, then froze as something struck him. “Or maybe it’s me who shouldn’t be kidding myself. Maybe you are making the choices that are most important to you. You kept your father and Sonya’s secret from me because I’m not that prince you spoke about who will come to rescue you. I’m just the two-bit lawyer who is good enough to save your father and your precious family but not good enough for you. ”
“No!” She rose from her seat, toppling the matchbooks onto the floor. Ignoring them, she walked to his side and cupped his face in her hands. “You couldn’t be more wrong,” she said and lowered her lips to his.
And damn, she felt good. But Hunter knew that this kiss was all about proving to him that not only was he good enough for her, but that she wanted and needed him, too. But with her lie, she’d ruined her chance of convincing him of anything.
He pulled her hands away from his face and broke the kiss, ignoring the hurt look in her eyes. “We have work to do,” he said gruffly.
“I’m sorry I lied to you.” She walked away.
He stared at the sway of her hips and the rounded curve of her backside and tried not to groan. She bent down to pick up the matchbooks she’d dropped on the floor. The movement lifted the hem of her short T-shirt, revealing the sweet expanse of skin on her lower back and the thin strap of lace underneath. He bit down on the inside of his cheek and prayed for restraint.
Molly examined each matchbook before tossing it back into the bowl. “I recognize all of these places,” she muttered, obviously frustrated.
He headed back to the desk and started looking through recent credit card bills.
“Wait!”
Her excited voice caught his attention and he glanced up.
“Find something?”
“I think so. All of these were from local places-restaurants and bars around here or at least in Connecticut, but look. This one’s from New Jersey and it’s a motel, not a place to eat.” She tossed the matchbook at him.
He caught it midair and looked it over. The matchbook appeared to be unused and new, no rips, tears or creases in the cover. “It says A.C. Probably Atlantic City.”
She nodded. “That’s what I thought. Could it be the lead we’re looking for?”
He wasn’t about to feed her false hope. “It could be nothing or it could be something. When Sonya gets home, ask her if she’s ever been there, and if she hasn’t, I’ll have Ty run down the lead.” He pocketed the matchbook and scanned the credit card bill for the past few months.
There were no indications Paul Markham had been to Atlantic City or anywhere else in New Jersey for that matter. But the man had been stealing from his partner for a while now. He had to have been an expert at covering his tracks, paying cash and maybe even using an assumed name.
Hunter caught the dejected look on Molly’s face. He understood how badly she wanted to find something that would lead to more information and hopefully free her father.
“I didn’t say it was nothing. I just said we need to look deeper.” He started to reach a hand out to comfort her, then curled his fingertips into a fist and dropped his arm back to his side. Touching her now would be deadly to his self-control.
And he had to be tougher around her now.
She turned away, pretending not to notice his rejection.
But he knew she had and his stomach cramped. “Let’s go back to your father’s and see what we can find out,” he suggested.
“Sounds like a plan.”
He followed her out, wishing like hell she’d confided in him instead of choosing to shut him out by lying to him about Sonya and Frank’s relationship. Not only had she sent him into a witness interview unprepared, she’d shaken the fragile trust they’d begun to develop again.
It was ironic, really. And it would be funny, if he wasn’t so disappointed in her. Molly had lied out of fear that Hunter would no longer trust her father and he’d drop his case as a result.