She shoved him again, but his shoulder budged as much as a concrete building would.
With a rumbling chuckle, Julian grabbed her hand and forced her fingers into a fist. “We aren’t talking about my love life. We’re talking about yours.” He frowned down at their fisted hands and briskly released her. “And the fact that you have paint on your nose, in your hair and on your shoes, and this starving-artist look is not going to do anything for my brother.”
Molly shot him a harsh glare, then shoved past him and stormed down the hall. “Oh, just let me grab one of your shirts! I’m sure that will do wonders for my pitifully unsexy and unsophisticated looks.”
“Aw, heck. Molly! Come on, Molls. Moo, baby. Get back here and just let me wrap my head around all this, all right? You know you’ve always been pretty, and I know that’s why you don’t give a damn.”
Julian reached her in three long strides, promptly snatched her arm and dragged her back to the living room. Molly glared at him at first, but when she heard the low, deep sigh that worked its way up his chest, the sigh that said he just didn’t know what to do with her anymore, her anger vanished.
It was just too hard to stay angry with Julian John.
Molly knew he’d do anything for her—and maybe that was why she was here. On a Sunday morning. And why she continued to be a pain in his great-looking butt. Because nobody had ever done the things that Julian John had done to make sure she was safe and protected, except maybe her sister, who had practically assumed the role of a mother when they were orphaned.
Kate had put her through school, coddled her, raised her and loved her every second of growing up without a mom and a dad. So the fact that Julian had been there for her almost as much as Kate said a lot about a man who insisted on pretending he was nothing but a playboy.
Which he first and foremost was.
But that was precisely why Molly was happy that he was just her friend and not the man she had set her romantic sights on.
“Look,” she said as he released her, feeling herself blush as she remembered her and Garrett’s stolen kiss. “I know you might not understand this. But I love your brother so much, I—”
“Since freaking when, Molls? He’s always annoyed the crap out of both of us.”
She stiffened defensively. “True, okay. But that was when he was so rigid, you know. Before.”
“Before what?”
“Before…before I realized that he…” Wants me. Before he said the things he said to me when he kissed me. Her stomach wrenched at the painful memory. Anxiously, she pushed her red tresses back behind her shoulders and tried again. “I—I really can’t explain it, but something has monumentally changed. And I just know he loves me back, I just know it in my soul, Julian—please don’t laugh.”
She couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eyes for some inexplicable reason, so she spun around and slumped down on the leather sofa. The silence ticked by, and within seconds, she became aware of some extremely strange vibes coming from the vicinity of where Julian stood.
The laugh that broke the silence was worst of all. It was anything but mirthful. “I can’t freaking believe this.”
Molly held her breath and peered up at him, finding that a harsh frown had settled on his strong, tanned face. She had never seen Julian truly mad, but if that black scowl was a good indicator, he was getting there, and fast.
Her stomach clenched when she once again took a peek at his flat, muscled navel, the dark V dipping into those superloose drawstring pants and leading into— Okay, enough of that. She had to focus on getting Garrett. Now.
“Julian…” She really had to say something. Sighing, she signaled at that perfectly tanned, perfectly perfect torso. “Look. While we discuss this, can you put on one of your remaining shirts? The chest and the six-pack and all that you’ve got going on are just… Let’s just say it makes me want to go take a peek at Garrett.”
Julian scoffed and flexed seriously impressive biceps. “You know damned well my brother doesn’t have these guns.”
“He does, too.”
He flexed his other biceps. “I may be his baby brother, but I can take the guy down in five seconds flat with these.”
“Oh, puleeze. The only thing you’re probably better at doing than him is screwing around—and you deserve that after saying I look like I live in a blender.”
“Ahh. So once again, you missed the part where I said you were pretty.” Julian fell down on a chair and for a long moment, they sat there, both staring pensively into space.
When he at last spoke, Molly was relieved to hear that his voice had regained its usual playful note. “Yeah. You’re right. I am better at screwing around than both my brothers put together. Not that Landon would ever look at another woman now that he’s married.”
He leaned back and watched her with the beginnings of a smile that carried a hint of danger while he linked his hands behind his head in a deceptively relaxed pose.
“So let’s screw around with Garrett. Why not? He’s always been ridiculously protective of you and Kate. He’d go Donkey Kong if he ever found out you were dating someone. Especially someone with a bad reputation. You don’t even really have to date the guy, just make him agree to play your doting lover for a while, ask him to be convincing enough to yank ole Garrett’s chain.”
Delighted that Julian was at last addressing her predicament, Molly almost jumped out of her seat and found herself clapping twice. “Yes! Yes! He sounds charming. But the question is, do I actually know such a man?”
Julian’s smile was perfectly wolfish. “Baby, you’re looking right at him.”
* * *
His words appeared to strike Molly like an electric shock, and Julian wondered if that was a good thing, a bad thing or totally irrelevant to his newly hatched plan.
“Excuse me?” She jerked upright on his couch and gripped the leather cushions with such force that it looked as if she was on a roller-coaster ride. “I’m sure I heard wrong. Did you just offer to be my boyfriend or something?”
“Or something,” Julian agreed, his lips curling upward.
He knew he looked calm. Collected. But inside his head, the wheels were turning with particularly inspiring ideas. Ideas he might later regret. But they were still damned good.
“Wh-what do you mean ‘or something’?” she asked him.