Molly Matthews Meddles in Marriage Read online

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademarks Acknowledgment

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  Molly Matthews Meddles in Marriage

  ISBN # 978-1-78430-982-4

  ©Copyright Jill Steeples 2016

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright January2016

  Edited by Sharon Combs

  Totally Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2016 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

  Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Simmering and a Sexometer of 1.

  MOLLY MATTHEWS MEDDLES IN MARRIAGE

  Jill Steeples

  Matchmaker extraordinaire Molly Matthews is an expert in love, but her skills are put to the ultimate test when international heartthrob Rory Campbell waltzes into her office.

  Molly Matthews knows everything there is to know about love. She should too, she runs the most exclusive marriage bureau in town. So why, then, is her own love life a complete disaster area?

  When Rory Campbell, the international film star and hell-raising playboy, turns up at Molly’s office, she can’t believe he’s looking for a wife. Despite her better judgment, Molly agrees to help Rory in his quest, but all her attempts at finding him the perfect woman are met with disdain from her trickiest customer to date.

  Molly is furious that her professional integrity has been compromised and she’s allowed her personal feelings to get in the way of a business relationship.

  When photos of Rory appear in the press with Emma D’Santi, a beautiful pinup and the only woman Molly suspects Rory has ever loved, she wonders if Rory is wasting her time and playing with her heart.

  Can Molly still find Rory the woman of his dreams while putting her own burgeoning emotions to one side and hanging on to what’s left of her frazzled heart?

  Dedication

  For my lovely mum.

  Trademarks Acknowledgment

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Polaroid: PLR IP Holdings

  Orvieto: Gruppo Italiano Vini

  Cinderella: Disney Enterprises, Inc.

  Oscar: Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences Corporation

  Chapter One

  Molly Matthews dashed up the stairs to the top floor offices at thirty-three-A Fitzwilliam Place, which today, in four-inch patent nude stilettos and with three glasses of vintage champagne fizzing through her veins, was a slightly more treacherous task than usual.

  She stumbled through the front door of Molly Matthews’ Marriage Bureau, not expecting it to be open, nor expecting to find Pippa, her best friend and sometime assistant, waiting for her expectantly.

  “So how did it go?” asked Pippa, putting down the magazine she’d been flicking through and raising a perfectly arched eyebrow.

  “Oh, Pippa…” Molly planted her backside on the edge of her desk, letting out the biggest, most satisfied sigh. “It was wonderful. Simply wonderful. The best wedding I have ever been to.”

  “Really? I think you said that last time,” said Pippa cheerfully, the eyebrow rising even farther.

  “This one was, though. It was so magical. Emma looked absolutely stunning in an off-white sheath dress and Fraser was wearing a kilt, would you believe? He looked adorable. I felt so proud, almost as if I was watching my own son marry.”

  Pippa’s eyes narrowed, her mouth forming into a grimace.

  “I know that’s an impossibility and probably sounds ridiculous and a little inappropriate too, but you know I have a soft spot for Fraser. He was one of my first clients, after all, and there were moments when I thought I might never find him his bride. Here, look…” Molly delved into her handbag and pulled out a Polaroid of the happy couple with Molly planted very firmly between them, beaming into the camera. “Don’t they look happy together? They really are the perfect match.”

  Pippa smiled, nodding her head in agreement.

  “Hmm, that kilt was definitely a good decision.”

  Molly giggled, rifling through the top drawer of the desk and producing a drawing pin, which she used to post the photo up on the wall, alongside the dozen or so other pictures of Molly’s successful couplings.

  “This is what it’s all about.” She stood back, folding her arms and admiring the montage proudly. “It makes everything worthwhile, doesn’t it? Anyway,” she said, fixing Pippa with a puzzled look, “what are you doing, still here? Thought you had a leg wax to see to?”

  “I do,” said Pippa, glancing at her watch, “but you have a visitor so I thought I’d stay and keep him company.” She swept her head in the direction of the small reception room, looking decidedly mischievous. “I did explain that you could be some time, but he seemed quite happy to wait.”

  “Really. There wasn’t anything in the diary, was there?” Molly’s heart sank. She was horrified that she may have overlooked an appointment, and even worse, that she now had a meeting to attend. Post-wedding fever had made her legs heavy and her mind fuzzy.

  “Nope. He didn’t have an appointment. Just called in on the off chance, apparently.” Pippa jumped up from her seat, looking as if she might burst with excitement. “You’ll never guess who it is in there.”

  “You’re right, I won’t guess! I’m not blimmin’ clairvoyant! And if you’re meant to be keeping him company, why aren’t you in there, keeping him company?”

  “Ah yes, about that. I think my scintillating presence was too much for him. He’s fallen asleep in the chair so I thought I’d leave him to it.” Pippa giggled. “You are so not going to believe who it is.”

  “Fallen asleep! Oh, for goodness sake!” Molly marched over to the doorway and flung open the door. She stopped dead in her high heels and for a split second thought her heart may have stopped too. She inhaled sharply as her gaze skittered around the familiar room, which suddenly seemed wholly unfamiliar with the man’s long, broad figure reclining in the chair. His chestnut-brown hair flopped over to one side of his face, his black eyelashes, obscenely long, rested on his cheek and his lips, gently parted, emitted the faintest whooshing nois
e. Molly took a big step backward and carefully closed the door again. She turned to look at Pippa, her mouth opening, closing and then opening again.

  “Oh my God! Is that…? Is that…?” Easing the door handle down gently, she took another peek at the sleeping god, before quickly shutting the door again. “Rory Campbell is asleep in my office?”

  “I said you’d never believe it!” Pippa danced on tiptoes, flapping her hands at her side, giving a very good impression of a fairy ballerina. “Rory Campbell!” She let out a little squeal.

  Molly shrugged, holding her hands up in the air and lowering her voice to a whisper.

  “What on earth is he doing here though?”

  “Well, he wouldn’t say, he specifically asked to speak to you.” She picked up her handbag, slipped on her jacket and headed for the door. “And I know my wonderful skills of deduction would be much better suited to a detective agency, but I wouldn’t mind guessing that Mr. Gorgeous in there is looking for a wife!”

  How ridiculous was that! Rory Campbell looking for a wife. There might be any number of reasons why Rory Campbell was sitting in her office, it was just that Molly couldn’t think of any at the moment, but looking for a bride certainly wouldn’t be one of them.

  Molly paced around the office, wondering what she should do. She’d fallen in love with Rory the very first time she’d set eyes on him, four or five years ago. From the big screen, he’d teased and flirted with her, seducing her with his boyish good looks and his easy charm. He’d broken her heart when he’d had an affair with that Dana Andrews, a high-profile glamour model, but of course she’d forgiven him that. Rory was all too easy to forgive.

  She’d even overlooked all those minor indiscretions that seemed to appear with increasing regularity in the newspapers these days, stumbling out of nightclubs looking the worse for wear each time with a different woman on his arm, the rumors that he’d been making more enemies than friends with his outlandish behavior. Molly had been able to forgive him all of that, but now he was here, sitting in her office, and she had no idea what she was going to say to him.

  The effects of the champagne were clearly muddling her mind. There was only one thing for it, she would just have to go right in there and…and introduce herself!

  She smoothed down her skirt before knocking forcefully on the glazed panel of the door, which was slightly disconcerting seeing as it was her own door to her own office, but still she felt the need to announce her presence to her sleeping guest.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Campbell,” she said, in her most professional, business-like voice as she waltzed through the door.

  She was met with a groan as Rory shifted in his chair. She paused, certain he would wake at any moment. It was only a small room and it was a sweltering hot afternoon, his presence only adding to the heady atmosphere. Surely even in his sleep-induced haze, he must be aware there was someone standing over him? She waited a few seconds more. Clearly not, she mused, realizing he was looking more comfortable with each passing moment.

  This was ridiculous. This was her office, she didn’t need to be tiptoeing around after some sleeping interloper. Even if said interloper was Rory Campbell. She reached up and opened the window, letting in some much-needed fresh air, before bending down beside him and gently shaking his arm.

  “Mr. Campbell,” she called. “Mr. Campbell!” Impatiently, she shoved him harder, causing his eyes to ping open. Dark, lazy eyes that she’d gazed into on many an occasion. Dark, lazy eyes that swept over her face now. Her stomach lurched to the bottom of her high heels as his gaze flickered around the unfamiliar surroundings and he pushed himself up on his elbows in the chair.

  “Mmm, you smell good,” he commented, as if that weren’t a totally inappropriate thing to be saying.

  No apology, no embarrassment, no shame at being caught fast asleep in her office. No nothing.

  His eyes widened as his gaze traveled around her body, taking in the cinched waist of her slub silk gray pencil skirt suit, the intricate design of the fascinator tucked into her bright auburn curls before finally landing on the patent stilettos, which showed off a pair of shapely calves to maximum effect.

  “Mmm, you look pretty good too.” He nodded sagely, rubbing his eyes as if to check they weren’t deceiving him. “Is this how you usually dress for a day in the office or is this purely for my benefit?”

  “I might ask the same of you.” She raised her eyebrows, surveying the crumpled dinner jacket and white dress shirt with the remnants of what looked to be red wine splattered down the front. Disheveled, he still managed to look wickedly louche.

  He glanced down at the stains and winced, putting a hand to his temple

  “I’ve been to a wedding,” Molly explained, not waiting for his reply. “Two of my clients. Definitely one of the perks of the job.” She smiled. “Anyway, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Campbell. But had you made an appointment, I could have made sure I was here to see you. I’m sorry if you’ve had something of a wait.” Her voice was calm, but she couldn’t ignore the thundering gallop of her heartbeat.

  “Don’t worry about it.” He stretched his arms above his head and yawned, looking up at her through sleepy blue eyes. “It was a bit of a heavy night last night and then more of the same this lunchtime. You know what’s it like. I needed a nap.” He grimaced, as if remembering his earlier excesses.

  “Really?” Molly laughed, feeling it was the only appropriate response. Other than telling Mr. Campbell exactly what she thought of his boorish behavior and demanding he leave her office immediately, which she might well have done had he been anyone other than who he was. The barefaced cheek of the man!

  But she wouldn’t do that to him or to anyone else for that matter because for one, she was far too polite and secondly, she was increasingly intrigued as to what he was actually doing here.

  “So,” she said, trying to keep a level of control into her voice, “what can I do for you, Mr. Campbell?”

  “Rory, please,” he said warmly. “Molly… Is it okay if I call you Molly?”

  She nodded mutely. Her name on his lips was way too seductive.

  “Can I be honest with you?”

  She nodded some more.

  “Well, believe it or not, I need a wife.” A smiled formed at the corner of his full lips. “This is a marriage bureau, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Perfect! I am at the right place then. For a minute there, you had me worried. Yep, what I need is a wife. That’s your line of business, isn’t it? I’ve been told you’re just the right woman to help me find one.” He smiled, looking obscenely pleased with himself.

  Molly chewed on her lip, counted inwardly from one to ten and then returned a tight smile. She so didn’t need this right now. Okay, so Rory Campbell was a household name. He was the star of a dozen or so romantic comedies, a leading man with good looks and charm in bucketloads who just so happened to be her personal number-one crush and now he was here, in her office, and inexplicably and disappointingly she didn’t feel remotely like falling at his feet. Instead, she felt like throwing him out of her office. She took a deep breath.

  “Why?”

  A pulse twitched in his cheek.

  “Why?”

  “Yes, why, Rory, do you need a wife? You said, ‘believe it or not I need a wife’ and to be honest with you, I’m having trouble believing it. It’s not every day that a movie star wanders into my little office, asking for my help.”

  Rory’s lazy gaze drifted around the room, taking in the montage of wedding photos on the wall before landing back on Molly.

  “For the same reasons, I guess, that any of your other clients would give for wanting to find a partner. It’s the right time for me. I don’t expect any special treatment, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “That’s good, because all my clients receive exactly the same treatment.” She held his gaze, trying to ignore the warming flush currently traveling her body. Leaning forward, she snatched the
rolled-up newspaper that was stuffed down the side of his chair. She unfurled the paper and laid it out on the desk in front of them. “So your search for a wife would have nothing to do with this?”

  She rifled through the pages of the Daily Record until she reached the center double-paged spread she’d seen earlier in the day. It showed a selection of photos of Rory in varying degrees of dubious behavior, most of which seemed to involve him stumbling out of top London nightspots and canoodling with different blonde women in the back of taxis.

  “What? No! That crap just goes with the territory.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Why would that have anything to do with me wanting to find a wife?”

  “I don’t know. A PR stunt? Damage limitation? I’m only asking the question.”

  “It has absolutely nothing to do with me wanting a wife. I admit my public image has taken a bit of a battering in recent weeks, but they’ll be on somebody else’s back next month. It’s the nature of the business. The fact is I want a wife. I was led to believe that you’re the best marriage broker in London, but if you don’t think you’re up to the job, then you only have to say. There are plenty of other companies I could use.”

  “I’m not saying that.” Irritation prickled on her skin. “I just need to be absolutely sure you’re here for the right reasons and you’re absolutely committed to finding a partner. Otherwise we’d be wasting each other’s time.”

  “I have better things to do with my time than wasting yours.” His eyes flickered with displeasure. “What more can I say? I’m absolutely committed to finding a wife. Now are you able to help me or do I need to take my business elsewhere?”

  This was going to be so much harder than he thought. Not only was his head shooting with sharp pains every time he made any kind of movement, but Miss Molly whatever-her-name-was was shooting him dagger-like glares from her scary crossed-arm stance.