Instead she nodded and walked with him back through the house to the front door.
“What do you think about lunch tomorrow?” he asked. “Or am I rushing things too much?”
“Not at all. In fact, you could rush a little more,” Molly said, and moved closer.
Reggie was a smart man. He picked up on body language really well.
He slipped one of those lovely big arms around her waist and snugged her up against him, setting off firecrackers in her chest. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
Those lips of his, they were magic. And his arms around her made her feel like she was inside a fortress. She could taste the sweet-and-sour sauce from the chicken they’d eaten, she could smell his woodsy aftershave mingled with the musky scent of man. She was getting drunk on him.
He took his time with that kiss, and when it ended, he touched his forehead to hers. “Molly Fielding, you are some kind of wonderful.”
“I’m thinkin’ the same thing about you,” she said.
“So, lunch tomorrow?”
“Oh, yes.” And the next day and the next.
He kissed her once more and that one was as good as the first. She was a woman who’d been in the desert way too long and had finally found an oasis. She didn’t want to leave, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and took a good long drink.
He was grinning when they were done. “Woman, I can’t get enough of you.”
“Plenty more where that came,” she said.
“All right, then. Don’t forget where we left off,” he said with his big Reggie smile.
“I won’t.”
Indeed, it would be all she’d be thinking of for the rest of the night. Ava could say what she wanted about Reggie Washington, but he sure looked like the right man for Molly.
CHRISTMAS
IN JUNE
18
“How could you run out of flower stamps?” Mrs. Mason demanded, glaring at Molly.
Mrs. Mason was one of Molly’s regulars, and though she couldn’t hold a candle to Mrs. Bigman, she was doing her best at the moment. She liked flower stamps, no flags, thank you. As far as Mrs. Mason was concerned that meant politics and she didn’t like politics. She was loyal to flower stamps, except for Christmas and then she expected either angels or the Madonna and child. Molly always tried to have what Mrs. Mason wanted, but when she didn’t, Mrs. Mason was usually a good sport.
There was no good sportsmanship happening today. “I can’t believe you don’t have flowers,” Mrs. Mason grumbled.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Mason, but we had a run on flower stamps,” Molly said. “I do have some lovely bird ones. You know, flowers and birds go together.”
“They do not,” snapped Mrs. Mason, and gave her left hip a scrub.
Hmm. “Mrs. Mason, are you feeling all right?”
“No, I’m not. My bursitis is killing me.”
That explained it. It was hard to keep your sweet disposition when you were in pain.
“I get that sometimes,” Molly said. “You know what helps?”
Mrs. Mason lost some of her anger. “What?”
