The Kiss Before Midnight Read online

  Come to think of it, the memory probably wasn’t helping the overheating any more than the overcrowded tube was. She had to put Jake Sommers completely out of her head, and focus on her journey home.

  She stood all the way to Euston, crammed up against the door and clutching the handle of her suitcase for dear life, then struggled up the escalator into the overground station. Dragging her case behind her, she wove through the holiday season crush, past at least ten people in Santa hats and avoiding a group of guys in suits warbling Silent Night, all the way to platform five.

  The queue to get onto the train stretched right back to the main concourse, and Molly mentally thanked her mother for insisting she book ahead to make sure she got a seat. Sure, she thought as she handed her ticket to the inspector, there would probably be someone sitting in it by the time she got there, but hopefully the festive spirit would prevail and they’d give it up once she waved her ticket in their face.

  The only problem was, once she was settled into her window seat, with the businessman beside her tapping away on his laptop, there wasn’t much to do but watch the snowflakes drifting down outside and think about Jake.

  Not just Jake, though. That line in her diary, the one she always started keeping daily on the first of January and slipped to monthly updates around mid February. The last line under the heading Goals For The Year.

  The first two goals she’d actually knocked off by the summer. New job? Check. Move to London? Check.

  But goal number three, which should have been the easiest of them all if that December 31st kiss had been anything to go by, had remained elusive.

  Sleep with Jake Sommers.

  A little hard to achieve when she hadn’t actually been in the same room as him all year, and not even in the same city most of the time.

  Why had she even added that to the list anyway? Without it, she was two for two on the real, important things she wanted to achieve that year. Getting away from Liverpool and starting her own, grown up life in London had been a goal for so long that she’d started to doubt she’d ever make it. But she had. On her own terms, without any help from anyone.

  Sure, maybe her tiny shared flat wasn’t a New York penthouse with weekends on a charmingly rustic farm with a fabulously gorgeous rich American, like Dory had somehow landed, but it was hers and she’d made it there herself. And that counted for a hell of a lot, especially to Molly.

  But still, the last goal at the front of her journal nagged at her. She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t set it; that wasn’t how things worked. Every New Year’s Eve when they were kids, Molly, Dory and Tim had huddled together in the girls’ room to make their resolutions. Sometimes they were joke ones – like the year Tim resolved to convince their mum to believe in aliens. Sometimes they were things that mattered, like exams and friendships. And sometimes they’d forced them on each other, like the year she and Dory ganged up to make Tim give up smoking when he was fifteen.

  They’d stopped some years ago, and Molly wasn’t even really sure why. Probably it had something to do with them all being in different places for New Year – different friends, different jobs, different parties, even different cities. But Molly always set her goals for the year – even though her track record for meeting them wasn’t great. This year was the first year she stood a chance at a clean sweep. But not with the memory of Jake Sommers’s kiss and the unfulfilled resolution hanging over her head.

  Outside the window, the snow that had been light and magical in London was growing heavier and more threatening. Beside her, Mr Businessman stopped clicking keys long enough to look up and say, “Well, it looks like getting a taxi will be fun tonight.”

  Molly wasn’t worried about taxis. Her dad drove one of those, for heaven’s sake. But if he was out on a job and the trains stopped running then she might be in trouble. Well, not trouble, exactly. Dad would drive into the city to pick her up from Lime Street station if the local line shut down, but it wouldn’t be fun for either of them. Liverpool city centre two days before Christmas was not a place anyone wanted to drive around if they didn’t have to. Especially since she knew her dad had taken Christmas week off to spend with the family.

  “I’m practically retired now, Moll,” he’d said, last time she called. “What’s the point of getting to my age if you can’t sit back and enjoy it, eh?”

  Which didn’t mean he wouldn’t do a few jobs, when it suited him, Molly knew. Especially on the days when it was to his benefit to be out from under her mother’s feet.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I am sorry to report that due to the inclement weather, there will be no local or national trains departing from our final stop, Liverpool Lime Street. There will be staff on hand to advise you on local hotels and taxi firms, and we hope to have all services running again tomorrow morning.” The crackly announcement sent waves of muttering through the carriage.

  “Damn it,” Molly murmured, reaching for her phone. She’d known she should have booked an earlier train, but Jenna had been adamant that she couldn’t miss the work drinks that evening.

  She tried the home phone first, but there was no reply. Firing off a text to her mum, she called Tim next.

  “What’s up sis?” The sound of a fruit machine paying out in the background put pay to any hopes of her brother picking her up.

  “You’re in the pub?” Maybe he’d be somewhere in the city centre and they could travel home together. That could work. He could carry her damn suitcase for one thing. Brothers had to have some uses, right?

  “Yeah.” He said it as if anyone with half a brain would be. “It’s Christmas Eve Eve. Why aren’t you?”

  “You know Christmas Eve Eve isn’t really a thing, right? Never mind. Look, I’m on the train into Lime Street now, but the trains to Crosby aren’t running. Which pub are you in?”

  “The George and Dragon. Wanted to be within staggering distance. Hey! Guess who’s here tonight!”

  “Someone sober enough to pick me up from Lime Street?” Molly asked, without much hope.

  “God, no. You’re shit out of luck there, sorry. No, Lara’s here! Wanna talk to her?” He passed the phone over before he could reply.

  “Tell me you’re nearly home!” Lara yelled down the phone. “I need my best friend back!”

  “Almost,” Molly promised. “Or I would be if I could get someone to pick me up from Lime Street. Are you going to come round tomorrow?”

  “Have I ever missed mulled wine and mince pies at your parents’ house on Christmas Eve?” Lara asked, making it clear through her tone that Molly was an idiot for asking.

  “Not willingly,” Molly admitted. “Good. I can tell you all about London.”

  “Yeah. Great. Here’s Tim.” The phone line went muffled, then crackly, then Tim was back.

  “Is she okay?” Molly asked, frowning at her reflection in the window. “She sounded… off.”

  “That’ll be the cinnamon flavoured vodka,” Tim guessed. “They’ve got this special offer on tonight. I have to tell you about it—”

  “Tim,” Molly interrupted. “I kind of had a reason for calling. The about to be stuck in Lime Street thing? Do you know where Dad is? No one’s answering at home.”

  “He’s gone to pick up Dory and whatshisname from Manchester airport. Guess he might be a while if the weather’s bad.”

  “Lucas. You know his name is Lucas.” A while, in this case, could mean anything up to a couple of days. Damn it.

  “Yeah, whatever. And Mum’s over at Auntie Susan’s at some sort of girls’ party thing. Ann Summers or what have you.”

  “It’s a cooking party,” Molly said, finally remembering. “And God, thanks for that image.” She sighed. “Okay, well, if you speak to either of them, tell them I’ll try and get a taxi home, if I can find one in this weather.” She dreaded to think how much it would cost, but she just wanted to get home. It was Christmas, after all.

  “No, hang on Moll.” Tim sounded suddenly sober, the big brother swooping in to take
care of things again. She should be grateful, Molly knew. After all, hadn’t she called hoping for his help? But the assumption that she couldn’t even be trusted to get a taxi on her own grated.

  “It’s fine, Tim. You’ve been drinking, and so has Mum probably.” It was Christmas, after all. Half of Britain was probably plastered. “Dad’s miles away. I can just grab a taxi. It’ll be fine.”

  “Just wait a min. I’ll call you back in five.” The phone went dead in her hand. Apparently it was Super Tim to the rescue again.

  Fingers still wrapped around her phone, she stared back out of the window. The flakes were bigger, heavier now, like the granddaddies of the little flurries they’d had in London. These snowflakes meant business.

  “Well, at least it will be a white Christmas,” she whispered to herself. Dad would be pleased. He always complained that it wasn’t really Christmas without a snowman in the back garden.

  She jumped as her phone buzzed, but it was a text, not a call.

  Couldn’t get through – are you in a tunnel? Anyway, all sorted. He’ll be there to pick you up at Lime Street when you arrive. See you in the pub! Tx

  He? Which he?

  Molly felt her breath start to freeze in her lungs as she realised there was only one person Tim would call for a favour like this on Christmas Eve Eve.

  Jake Sommers.

  Chapter 3

  Jake ended the phone call with rather more than the required force, cursing hands free technology for the first time in its existence. He’d almost ignored the call from Tim anyway – not because he didn’t want to talk to his best friend, but because he knew Tim was in the pub, probably sloshed, and Jake was going to be there in an hour or so, anyway. What did they need to talk about at this point? They had a whole week of festivities to enjoy together. Himself, Tim and Tim’s family, all pretending that Jake was one of them, even when everyone knew he wasn’t.

  He was, as ever, the poor orphan child, given a place out of the snow with mulled wine and mince pies and happy people, for the holidays.

  Not that he was complaining – far from it. Without the Mackenzies, he’d have no family at all. He was happy to take what he could get – and grateful that what he’d been able to get was as warm, welcoming and loving as Tim’s family.

  But it did come with a sense of obligation – one he suspected was probably entirely in his head. Still, it meant that when Tim called, he answered. And when Tim asked him to pick up his little sister from Lime Street station on a snowy Christmas Eve Eve (as if that were even a real thing) he said yes, no questions asked. Because Molly should be like a little sister to him, too, given everything the family had done for him over the years.

  Jake cursed the still falling snow. Because thinking of Molly as a little sister? Practically impossible these days.

  He tried. Really he did. In the twelve months since he’d last seen her, he’d listened to Tim and his parents talking about how well she was doing, how her move to London could be the making of her, and all he could think was that she was two hundred miles further away from him now.

  He had yet to decide if that were a good thing or not, but he knew his body had very strong feelings on the matter.

  His body’s feelings were why he’d been avoiding her. Why he hadn’t even been able to go to her leaving party, making excuses about being away with work instead. Why, whenever he’d been working down in London this year, he’d ignored the scrawled address Tim had given him, tucked in the back of his work folder.

  He’d always known that he had an issue with temptation. All the things he knew were a bad idea – one more drink, staying out just a bit later, chasing that girl he knew would break his heart… Jake just wasn’t very good at saying no. As a teenager, he’d spent a lot of time giving in to temptation – especially after his parents died. But, after five years of hard study at university, he hadn’t wanted to jeopardise that during his two years of on the job experience before he qualified as an architect.

  So slowly, he’d started resisting. Going home when he’d promised himself he would. Knowing his limits. Turning down the opportunities that looked fun, but he knew would bring more trouble than anything else, in the end.

  Which was just as well, really, as it was that year, when he came home for Christmas, that he’d suddenly realised that Molly wasn’t a little girl, or an awkward teen anymore. Away at university herself then, she’d grown into the sort of woman he’d buy a drink in a bar, charm, and take home for the night.

  The thought of other men doing that to sweet little Molly Mackenzie made something burn, deep inside him.

  But it wasn’t something he could do anything about. She was a grown woman, and not quite his sister, but close enough. Close enough, that he could never dream of being that guy in the bar, but not so close that he could pull the big brother card and keep her safe from those sleazebags.

  So, he’d become an expert at resisting temptation, knowing that if he gave in once, he’d give in forever – on everything. He’d held himself in check, over and over – until last New Year’s Eve.

  Jake’s lips tightened as he swerved the car into the station car park, flakes still falling fast and thick on his windscreen. Twelve months of trying to forget the moment he’d let down his guard and given in to that temptation, and here he was, forced by his own rules of family and obligation to spend time alone in an enclosed space with the woman.

  The woman whose mouth he could still taste under his, if he didn’t concentrate on forgetting. Whose curves he could still feel pressed up against him. Whose soft, sweet skin still kept him awake at night.

  It was, Jake had found, much harder to forget those things when he was alone in the dark.

  It was dark now, night having swooped down with the snow at four thirty. The glitter of snowflakes in the streetlights gave Liverpool’s station a magical glow it couldn’t claim to possess most of the year. He parked his car where he was pretty sure there were some double yellow lines hidden by the snow, and was about to call Molly’s mobile – a number he’d had programmed in his phone since the day she got it, but had never actually used – when he saw a figure hopping down the steps outside the station. Despite the knitted hat pulled down over her wavy auburn hair, and the thick grey coat hiding her body, he knew her instantly.

  She was almost at the car before he realised he should get out and help her. God, he was failing at more than just resisting temptation today.

  “Hey,” he said, stepping out of the car. Cold, wet misery seeped into his socks over the top of his probably now ruined leather shoes. He held back a wince. “Need a hand with that?”

  Molly flashed him a smile that shone brighter than the snow under the streetlights. “I’ve got it.”

  She popped open the boot and heaved her oversized suitcase inside without much effort, while Jake hung back with wet feet and a general feeling of uselessness. He had to get a handle on whatever it was that made him so… un-Jake-like in her presence. Yeah, so he’d kissed her. But she was still just Molly. Just Tim’s kid sister. The girl who’d hung around and bugged them when they were teenagers.

  The woman he’d pressed up against the wall of her childhood bedroom, his mouth firm and wanting against hers…

  No. He really, really couldn’t be thinking about that right now.

  Slipping around to the other side of the car, he opened the passenger door for her, unable to keep his gaze from fixing on the line of her neck under her hair, and the single snowflake that had landed on her skin and was melting, trailing down her throat, under the collar of her coat…

  Swallowing, Jake forced a smile as Molly slid into her seat, slamming the door behind her rather harder than he’d intended.

  Back in the driver’s seat, he checked his mirrors obsessively, and prepared to pull out, very aware of all the extra hazards the weather presented.

  “Thanks for coming to get me,” Molly said, and he risked a glance up at her. Her lip was caught between her teeth, plump and pink, and
it made him want to kiss it, so damn much. “You really didn’t have to. Although I don’t suppose Tim gave you much of a choice.”

  “You know your brother,” Jake replied, before he realised that sounded like he hadn’t want to come and fetch her. Which, actually, he hadn’t. But he didn’t want her to know that. “And it’s fine. I was nearby, anyway.” Sort of. Well, not really.

  “No you weren’t.” Molly smiled, and Jake stopped paying full attention to the road for a second, before wrenching his gaze back through the windscreen. A second was all it took to cause an accident – hadn’t he learnt that lesson from his parent’s death? He couldn’t allow himself to be distracted by a pretty smile, or anything else, while driving. Okay, fine, a stunning, heart stopping smile.

  “How do you know that?” he asked, not looking at her.

  “I can tell.” She shuffled around in her seat a bit, obviously getting comfortable, her huge leather bag settled on her knee. Between that and her case, she must have been loaded down, getting to the station alone.

  Suddenly, Jake felt a spike of guilt in his chest. Why hadn’t he offered to come and pick Molly up anyway? Just because he was undergoing a particularly strong surge of unbrotherly-like feelings, didn’t mean she should have to suffer. It just meant he needed to control them better.

  “How can you tell?” he asked, because that didn’t make any sense at all.

  Molly shrugged. “I’ve known you too long, Jake. I can tell when you’re lying.”

  Jake’s shoulders froze, his hands gripping the steering wheel too tightly. If that was true, he was definitely in trouble.

  Suddenly, he really, really wanted to get to the pub with Tim. And take a long, cold walk home afterwards.

  -

  Okay, this was weird. Molly’s gaze fixed on Jake’s white knuckles, clenching the steering wheel for dear life. Did he always drive like this? She didn’t remember him doing so, but then, his parents had died in a car crash. Maybe that made him nervous. Or it could just be the snow – it had to be pretty treacherous to drive in. Not that she’d ever tried.