A Millionaire For Molly. Marion Lennox
took over the room.
‘What is he—a tree frog?’ he asked Molly gently, and Molly wiped angry tears away with the back of her free hand. She sniffed and nodded.
‘Yes.’
‘And Mr Francis, here—my lawyer—has injured it?’
‘I don’t like insects,’ Roger muttered.
‘He’s not an insect—’ Molly started, but Jackson was still in control. Once again his voice cut through. ‘It does seem hard that Miss Farr should injure her hand, see her pet hurt and lose her job all on the one day.’
Carefully he opened Molly’s hand and took the frog into his own. Then he stood, solidly big, immaculately groomed—with a tiny green tree frog cradled in his palm.
A swipe of black hair flicked over his eyes and he brushed it back. The man needed a haircut—or maybe he didn’t. There weren’t many women who’d complain about how Jackson Baird looked.
And he looked amazing now. The tiny green frog, gazing upward with frog-like incomprehension, accentuated the sheer size and raw strength of the man. And yet he was all gentleness as his fingers carefully examined the tiny creature.
Trevor stared down at the frog in disgust, his expression squeamish. Wildlife had never been his strong point. ‘Of all the ridiculous… Give it to me, Mr Baird, and I’ll find a brick.’
But Jackson was concentrating entirely on the frog. ‘You know, it looks a simple break, and there doesn’t appear to be any more damage. I think we can fix this.’
Molly took a deep breath. And then another. She sat up, pulled her skirt down over her tights until she was almost respectable, and gazed up at Jackson in disbelief. ‘You’re kidding.’
He looked down at her… And then looked again.
She really was extraordinary, Jackson thought, taking her in for the first time. She had pale, almost translucent skin, a mop of glossy dark curls that clung around her face, huge brown eyes…
Frog! Concentrate on the frog, Baird, he reminded himself.
‘Really,’ he told her. ‘We can’t put it in a cast—’
‘That’d be something!’ Ever the clown, Angela interrupted from behind. Now that Lionel looked as if he might live, Molly’s fellow realtor was appreciating the humour of the situation. ‘We could make him crutches like Tiny Tim carries in the Muppet Christmas Carol.’
‘Shut up, Angela.’ Molly glowered as she struggled to her feet, and she hardly noticed as Jackson’s free hand came out to steady her. This was serious. ‘You were saying, Mr Baird?’
‘I’m sure he can be fixed.’ Two heads were now bent over one tiny green tree frog, and had no thoughts of anything else.
‘We need to splint it,’ Jackson told her.
‘Crutches!’ Angela chortled. ‘I won’t be content with anything less.’ Then her laughter died. ‘Molly, you’re dripping blood on the carpet.’
‘It’s nothing.’ Molly shoved her fist into her skirt but Jackson’s hand came out and grasped hers. He held it up.
The skin had split over the knuckles and it was sluggishly bleeding. His face darkened.
‘Damn you, Roger.’
‘I was stamping on the frog. I didn’t expect the stupid girl to—’
‘It needs attention.’
‘It does not.’ Molly snatched her hand away and shoved it behind her back before he could see it further. ‘It’s only grazed. If Lionel can really be fixed—’
‘Lionel?’
‘My frog,’ she told him, and he nodded with all the gravity in the world.
‘Of course. Lionel. I see. And, yes, he can really be fixed.’
Molly looked up at Jackson as if he might be trying to trick her. ‘How do you know?’
‘There was a dam on our property when I was a kid,’ he told her, taking in the look of strain around her eyes and puzzling a little over it. ‘I spent my holidays raising tadpoles.’ And escaping his parents. ‘Anything you need to know about frogs, ask me.’
‘It can heal?’
‘It can heal.’
She took a deep breath and some of the tension eased. ‘Then I’ll take him to the vet.’
‘I can splint it here, if you’ll let me. But I can’t fix your hand.’
‘I’ll take her to the hospital to fix that,’ Angela said, putting in her two bobs’ worth again and moving to hug her friend. ‘If you fix the frog, then I’ll fix Molly.’
‘Angela!’ Trevor’s voice was an angry whisper, but Angela directed him one of her very nicest smiles.
‘Mr Baird likes Molly’s frog,’ she said demurely. ‘And we’d hate to upset Mr Baird, now, wouldn’t we?’
At the look on her cousin’s face Molly almost choked. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake…’ She took a deep breath and moved out of the protective circle of Angela’s arm. ‘Thank you all very much, but I’ll take my frog to the vet and my hand just needs a sticking plaster. That’s all. So I can take care of everything myself. And it doesn’t matter if I leave.’ She looked at her cousin and sighed. The man really was an idiot. Maybe it would be better if she walked away. ‘After all, I’m sacked anyway.’
‘You can’t be sacked,’ Jackson growled, and once again there was the stillness that his voice seemed to engender. He turned to Trevor, his finger lazily stroking Lionel’s green back as he spoke. His eyes fixed Molly’s cousin, impaling him like an insect on a pin.
‘I came here to find out about a property. The information I have is tantalising, but it’s scarcely detailed. I need more. And I need to see it. You say you’re busy over the weekend?’
Trevor was totally flummoxed. ‘Yes, but—’
‘I’ve an option on another property until Monday, so I’d like to come to a decision before then. And I leave the country on Tuesday. Seeing the place for the first time on Monday hardly leaves time for negotiation.’
Trevor thought this through and backtracked fast. Negotiation—a wonderful word. It meant the man was a serious buyer. ‘Of course. I’ll just have to reschedule—’
‘I don’t believe I’ll bother you,’ Jackson told him, his voice cool and direct. ‘I don’t need you to show me the place. One of your employees will do just as well—’
‘You still have time for another tour of the Blue Mountain property,’ his lawyer interrupted, and was shot a look of dislike for his pains.
‘Thanks, but I’m more interested in the Copeland place. Now, seeing as Miss Farr has just suffered an injury and a shock, what better way to help her recover than to take her away for the weekend? Mr Farr, I assume you weren’t serious about sacking an employee for something so minor as bringing a frog to work?’
‘No…’ Trevor thought it through, and for Trevor thinking was a chore. ‘Yes. But—’
But Jackson was no longer listening. ‘Miss Farr, I would very much appreciate it if you could escort me to the property. Mr Farr, if your employee was to make such a sale I feel sure you’d be in a position to offer her her job back.’
Trevor gasped, but he wasn’t completely stupid. Once again he could see a fortune in commission flying out of the window, and he grabbed at it with both hands.
‘Maybe not. But I’ve just remembered I can come after all.’
‘I don’t wish to bother you.’ Jackson’s eyes were chilling. He turned to his