After Their Vows by Michelle Reid Page A

eyes and a lush heart-shaped mouth.
    ‘Oh, good morning, Mrs de Calvhos.’ The lush mouth broke into a melting smile. ‘I’m Molly Stewart,’ she introduced herself. ‘I come in here each day to clean up.’
    Roque employed a blonde bombshell as a daily cleaner? Suspicion as to Molly’s real role here slunk like poison through Angie’s blood. What had happened to old Mrs Grant?
    ‘Do you know where my husband is? ‘ Angie asked, stunned to hear herself use that possessive title as if she was sending out a warning to the blonde.
    ‘He left about half an hour ago,’ Molly Stewart told her. ‘He said for me to let you sleep.’ Picking up a towel, she began drying her hands on it. ‘Can I get you some breakfast? Cereal and juice? Some toast and a pot of coffee or tea?’
    ‘No—thank you,’ Angie answered with polite cool. ‘I’ll—I’ll just grab a bottle of water from the fridge.’
    Why was she behaving so awfully? she asked herself. Because you don’t like the thought of this sexy creature polishing Roque’s floors and making his bed, Angie answered her own question, frowning as she crossed the kitchen towards the fridge, with the blonde watching her every step of the way.
    It all felt just so weird—as if she was an intruder here. A one-night stand left behind to sort herself out while the great Latin lover disappeared out of the firing line of an awkward morning-after scene.
    Then she wondered just how many one-night stands Molly the daily had greeted with offers of breakfast.Had Molly Stewart been one of them? Was Roque into seducing the cleaning lady on her days off?
    Not liking the ugly path her mind was taking her along, she tugged open the fridge door and selected a small bottle of water, then pushed the door shut again, turning to find Molly staring at her pensively, as if she had something she wanted to say.
    ‘Your husband said I was to make sure you ate something, Mrs de Calvhos,’ Molly murmured anxiously. ‘In fact he was very specific—’
    ‘That is not his decision to make,’ Angie responded, with a snap she would have preferred had not been there. But she was struggling with hearing herself referred to as ‘Mrs de Calvhos’ now, because she didn’t feel like a Mrs
anyone.
She didn’t want to feel like a wife at all.
    Especially so after last night’s humiliating fiasco in Roque’s bed.
    Great will power you have, Angie, she thought grimly, then glanced up sharply as Molly suddenly rushed into speech.
    ‘You’re Angie Hastings, aren’t you? Gosh, you’re even more beautiful in the flesh than you look in the magazines.’
    Thoroughly startled by this unexpected compliment, Angie just stared, and Molly started blushing as if she’d made some terrible gaffe. Angie suddenly saw how young she was—and actually kind of cute. Despite possessing the sexiest curves she’d seen in a long time, being in the industry Angie was in, Molly Stewart had a natural warmth about her that made Angie feel mean for being so cool with her.
    ‘Let’s start again,’ she offered with a ruefully apologetic smile. ‘I was surprised to find you here, and I’mcross with my … just cross,’ she edited, unwilling to use that
husband
word again. ‘I should have been at work by now, and—’
    ‘I wish I had your hair,’ Molly cut in breathlessly. ‘The colour is fabulous …’
    ‘Trust me, you don’t.’ Angie gave in and just laughed. ‘It’s hell to manage, and you can’t hide the fact that you’re a genuine ginger-head. Did my …?’ There it was again—the word she didn’t want to utter. Avoidance is futile, Angie, she told herself whimsically. ‘Did my husband leave a message for me other than that I am supposed to eat?’
    ‘Oh.’ Molly jumped. ‘He wrote you a note …’ Walking across the kitchen, she picked up an envelope, then released a giggly laugh. ‘He also said that if you tried to leave the apartment I was to barricade you in, but I don’t think I was