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A couple of minutes later, Molly strolled barefoot out of the bathroom, dressed in a white terry-cloth robe. She was toweling her hair dry and wore a silly grin as if she was aware of the effect she’d had on him. Apparently she enjoyed seeing him suffer.
“Did you need a pain pill?” she asked ever so sweetly.
Jordan shook his head and concentrated on the TV as though he understood every word.
* * *
Jordan had acted strange from the moment they’d left the East African Republic. Things weren’t any better now that they were on a flight to London. Afterward, they’d be flying to Chicago.
Molly didn’t know what to make of his irrational behavior. One second he was looking at her as if he was counting the minutes before he could charm her into his bed and the next he growled at her. One second he was sullen and sarcastic, the next witty and warm.Almostwarm, she amended. Jordan had never been all that affable. He was too direct and blunt.
He fidgeted in the cramped airline seat next to hers, trying to find a comfortable position. The pain pills would have helped him relax if he’d agreed to take them. Molly had given up suggesting it. He was a stubborn fool, and if he hadn’t risked his life to save hers, she would’ve told him so.
The newsmagazine Jordan was reading slid from his lap onto the floor. Molly retrieved it for him and he immediately crammed it into the seat pocket in front of him, bending it in half.
“Take it easy,” Molly said under her breath.
Jordan muttered something she preferred not to hear, then glanced at his watch, which he did every five minutes or so. She considered reminding him of the old adage about a watched pot never boiling, but strongly suspected he wouldn’t appreciate it.
An eternity seemed to pass before the plane touched down at London’s Heathrow airport, where they were met by a U.S. Embassy official, who replaced Molly’s missing American passport—which was still in her room at the compound. The embassy’s assistance had been arranged by Zane, much to her relief. Later that evening they boarded a plane for Chicago and it landed at O’Hare the next morning. She was home, and the joy that swelled in her chest was testament to how glad she was to be back.
Customs took forever. When she was done, she found her father waiting for her, looking older than she remembered. His face lit up with a smile when she appeared and he held his arms open the way he had when she was a little girl.
“Daddy,” she said, hugging him close. Unexpected tears welled in her eyes and, embarrassed, she wiped them away. She clung to him, absorbing his love.
“It’s about time you came back where you belong,” Ian whispered, brushing the tears from his own eyes. He hugged her again, then slipped his arm around her waist.
Jordan shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He hated emotional scenes, Molly knew.
“Thank you,” Ian said, breaking away from her and shaking Jordan’s uninjured hand. He needed a moment to compose himself before he could continue. “I might have lost my little girl if it hadn’t been for you.”
Jordan shrugged as if he’d done nothing more than walk her across the street.
A porter walked past with his luggage and Jordan glanced outside, obviously eager to be on his way. Hisgaze met Molly’s and in it she read a multitude of emotions. Relief that they were home and safe. Regret, too, she suspected. His defenses were lower, dulled by pain and fatigue. He couldn’t disguise his feelings from her as easily as he had in the past.
“Take care,” Molly said, taking a step toward him before she could stop herself. She longed to press her hand to his cheek and thank him herself, although she could never adequately express her gratitude. She longed to kiss him, too, to prove that what they’d experienced had been as real as it was right.
He nodded. “I will. I’ll call you later in the week.”
He turned abruptly and followed the porter outside.
Molly watched him go. She’d lived apart from Jordan for three years, considered their life together forever gone, destroyed by grief and pain. But this week had proved that Jordan still loved her. Just as she loved him.
He wasn’t happy about it, she mused sadly. She doubted that he knew what to do. For now he was as confused and uncertain as she was herself.
* * *
Molly woke with the sun rippling across the cherry-wood dresser in the bedroom that had been hers as a girl. She lay on her back, head cradled by pillows, and reveled in the abundant comforts of home.
She wasn’t a teenager anymore, but a woman. A married woman. That thought made her frown. There were decisions to make regarding her relationship with Jordan, but neither of them was ready. Three years should’ve been plenty of time to decide what they were going to do about their marriage, but it wasn’t.
Molly put on a sleeveless summer dress she foundin the back of her closet. A pretty white-with-red-dots concoction with a wide belt.
Her father was sitting at the breakfast table with the paper propped up against his glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. Little had changed in the years she’d been away. After her mother’s death twenty years earlier, he’d established a routine and never really varied it.
“Morning,” she said, kissing him on the cheek and pouring herself a cup of coffee.
“Morning,” came his absent response.
