The Seduction Project. Miranda Lee

‘I won’t tell anyone.’

      Molly laughed a second time. ‘There’s nothing deep or dark to tell. I repeat...we’re just good friends. As I said before, Liam used to live next door. We went to school together, though not in the same class. He was doing his HSC when I was only in my first year.’

      ‘Well, there’s nothing remotely boy-next-door about him any more,’ came Joan’s dry remark. ‘He has city written all over him. Not to mention success.’

      ‘I’m well aware of that, believe me. I’m not blind. But there’s never been any romance between us, and there never will be. He has a steady girlfriend. Goes by the name of Roxy.’

      ‘Roxy,’ Joan repeated, her nose wrinkling. ‘Don’t tell me. She’s a stunning blonde with boobs to die for, hair down to her waist and legs up to her armpits.’

      Molly was startled. ‘You know her?’

      ‘Nope. Just guessed. Men like your Liam always seem to have girls like that on their arm.’

      ‘He isn’t my Liam,’ Molly said tightly.

      ‘But you’d like him to be, wouldn’t you?’

      Molly opened her mouth to deny it. But her tongue failed her when a thickness claimed it. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes.

      Her Liam.

      What a concept. What an improbable, impossible, inconceivable, unachievable concept! To keep clinging to it was not only demeaning to her personally, but depressing in the extreme.

      ‘There was a time when I did,’ she said at last, her tone clipped and cold. ‘But not any more. I have better things to do with my life than pine for the impossible.’

      ‘Impossible? Why do you say it’s impossible?’

      ‘For pity’s sake, Joan, you’ve seen him. You yourself said men like Liam go for girls like Roxy, not mousy little things like me.’

      ‘You’d be far from mousy if you made the best of yourself. To be frank, Molly, a little make-up wouldn’t go astray. And an occasional visit to the hairdresser.’

      Molly stiffened, despite the criticism striking home. ‘I wouldn’t want a man who didn’t love me for myself,’ she said sharply.

      ‘That’s rubbish and you know it! I’m an old married lady and I still have to work hard to keep my man. Now you listen to me, Molly. When Liam comes to take you out tonight, surprise him.’

      ‘Surprise him?’

      ‘Yes. Leave your hair down. Slap some make-up, on. Use a sexy perfume. Wear something which shows off that great little figure of yours.’

      For a split second, Molly was buoyed up by Joan’s compliment on her figure. But then she thought of Roxy’s tall, voluptuous, sex-bomb body. . .and her momentary high was totally deflated.

      ‘I don’t have any sexy perfume,’ she muttered dispiritedly. She didn’t own much make-up either. But she wasn’t about to admit that.

      Joan gave her an exasperated glare. ‘Then buy some at the chemist during your lunch-hour!’

      Their library was in a small regional centre which boasted quite a few shops, a well-stocked chemist shop included.

      Molly declined telling Joan that she only had five dollars in her purse. Sexy perfume was expensive, and she’d rather wear nothing than douse herself in a cheap scent.

      Molly was actually contemplating asking Joan to lend her some money when reality returned with a rush. She could wear more make-up than a Japanese geisha and drown herself in the most exotic expensive perfume in the world and it would not make Liam fall in love with her. To think otherwise was ludicrous in the extreme, and belittling to his intelligence.

      ‘Thank you for your advice, Joan,’ she said with a return to common sense, ‘but I’d really rather just be myself. Now I’d better get back to these books.’

      Molly resumed checking in the returns, blocking her mind to everything but the thought that at least she would not have to starve to death tonight after her mother’s special birthday meal. Liam could buy her something delicious and creamy to go with her after-dinner coffee.

      She gave no more thought to Joan’s advice about make-up and perfume, till she arrived home late that afternoon and opened her carryall to find a paper parcel sitting on top of her house keys.

      It contained a small but expensive-looking spray bottle of perfume.

      And a note.

      ‘Happy birthday, darls!’ Joan had written in her usual extravagant hand. ‘This always works for me. Well...sometimes. Still, what have you got to lose? Go for it!’

      Molly sprayed a tiny burst of perfume onto her wrist and lifted it to her nose. It was a wonderfully sensual smell, its heavy musk perfume bringing images of satin sheets and naked bodies and untold unknown delights.

      Molly shook her head. To wear such a scent in Liam’s presence would be the ultimate self-torture.

      And let’s face it, Molly, she told herself, wearing perfume—no matter how sensual—isn’t about to turn Liam into some kind of sex-crazed lunatic. With a girl like Roxy in tow, no doubt he has all the sex he can handle.

      Molly glanced at the perfume’s name and almost laughed. Seductress, it was called. Good Lord. It would have to be a powerful potion to turn her into that!

      It was a nice thought of Joan’s, but a total waste of time and money.

      So was her advice. For Molly believed she did have something to lose. Her self-respect And possibly Liam’s friendship. She would not risk her relationship with him—such as it was—by acting differently or provocatively. He was an intelligent man and would surely notice if she climbed into his car wearing such an overpoweringly sexy scent.

      No. She would not do it. Neither would she change her hairstyle, or put on more make-up, or scrounge through her limited wardrobe in some vain attempt to find something more figure-revealing.

      Molly had her pride.

      She shoved the perfume back in her bag and extracted her house key.

      ‘Is that you, dear?’ her mother called out as she pushed open the front door.

      ‘Yes, Mum.’

      The smell of a roast dinner teased Molly’s nostrils as she made her way along the hall and into the kitchen. Not a pork smell. Chicken.

      Naturally, came the rueful thought. Chicken carried the least fat and calorie count, provided the skin was removed. Which it would certainly be. She almost sighed when she also spied her mother wrapping the hoped-for crispy baked potatoes in foil.

      Ruth glanced up and smiled at her daughter. ‘Have a good day, dear?’

      ‘Pretty good. Joan and the others bought me a birthday cake for morning tea.’

      ‘I hope you only had a small slice,’ her mother said, frowning. ‘I was going to get you a cake tonight but I thought it an extravagance when we can’t eat all of it.’

      Molly suddenly felt like screaming. She turned away to hook her navy carryall over a chair, schooling her face into a more pleasant expression before turning back. ‘You’ll never guess who dropped in to see me this morning,’ she said brightly.

      ‘I can’t think. Who?’

      ‘Liam.’

      ‘Liam? You mean Liam Delaney?’

      ‘The one and the same.’ Molly declined telling her mother about the fiasco of his new car. ‘He was up this way today and asked me out tonight for my birthday.’

      ‘But I’m cooking you a special dinner tonight!’

      ‘I’ll be here for dinner, Mum. Liam isn’t picking me up till around