She hadnât planned to go this far â¦
But she didnât want to bring the night to a close. For the first time she wasnât thinking about the future, about the inn. This night belonged solely to themâto herâand she wasnât ready for it to end.
Paul cleared his throat. âMaybe I should go.â
âWhy?â
âI think you know why.â
She told herself heâd ask her out again and maybe theyâd finish what theyâd started. Or maybe they could just finish it now, she thought, nibbling his lips. She felt a quiver run through him.
âIâm a big girl, Paul. I havenât had a vacation in three years. I have a rare few hours for myself, and a very handsome, occasionally charming man with whom to spend them. Now, I could light a candle and we could play gin rummy, or we could adjourn to my bedroom with no strings and no regrets.â
His smile flashed in the dim light. âWell, when you put it that way â¦â
* * *
Bride Mountain: Where a trip down the aisle is never far away â¦
GINA WILKINS is a bestselling and award-winning author who has written more than seventy novels for Mills & Boon. She credits her successful career in romance to her long, happy marriage and her three âextraordinaryâ children.
A lifelong resident of central Arkansas, Ms. Wilkins sold her first book to Mills & Boon in 1987 and has been writing full-time since. She has appeared on the Waldenbooks, B. Dalton and USA TODAY bestseller lists. She is a three-time recipient of a Maggie Award for Excellence, sponsored by Georgia Romance Writers, and has won several awards from the reviewers of RT Book Reviews.
Chapter One
The farmersâ market bustled with shoppers on this warm Tuesday morning in early July. Bonnie Carmichael browsed the outdoor displays of fresh fruits, vegetables and herbs, occasionally making purchases and adding the bounty to the increasingly heavy canvas bags dangling from her arms. She should have brought her little wheeled market trolley, she thought with a shake of her head. Sheâd told herself that not having it with her would make her less likely to purchase too much, but instead she was simply juggling bulging bags.
She loved visiting the farmersâ market, surrounded by the bright colors of fresh produce, cut flowers, handcrafted pottery and jewelry, the scents of fresh-baked bread and pastries, the sounds of chattering shoppers and busking musicians. The market was even more active on Saturdays, but it was hard for her to get away on weekends from the bed-and-breakfast she co-owned and operated with her two older siblings. She was the chef at the inn, so shopping was both her responsibility and her pleasure. She came to the market regularly enough that most of the vendors knew her by name.
She was chatting with a local organic farmer, lifting a plump heirloom tomato for an appreciative sniff, when someone bumped hard against her arm, having been jostled by someone else in the milling crowd. The tomato fell to her feet with a squishy thump.
âIâm so sorry,â a man said immediately, his voice coming from approximately a foot above her head. âAre you okay?â
She looked up to assure him no harm was done, but felt the words freeze on her tongue when she recognized Paul Drennan.
This just couldnât be happening again.
Twice, Bonnie had run into Paulâliterallyâat the inn in the Virginia Blue Ridge Highlands. The first time sheâd met him, in May, sheâd carried a box of stainless steel wine bottle stoppers that had scattered around her when sheâd landed on the floor. Heâd been with his twenty-one-year-old daughter, Cassie, who was planning an August wedding on the grounds of the inn, and Bonnie had been mortified to crash into a client. The second incident a few weeks later had been his fault; heâd been talking over his shoulder while walking and had barreled into her, though sheâd managed not to fall that time.
It should have come as no surprise that the next time she encountered him, only a couple of weeks later, it would be with another collision. Or that once again she was as jarred by her immediate and powerful attraction to him as by the physical contact. Something about this man had taken her breath away the first time sheâd looked up at him from the floor where sheâd landed. Sheâd felt a spark between them when heâd offered his hand to help her to her feet, a clichéd reaction she hadnât expected, but had seemed very real, all the same. Apparently, nothing had changed. Her pulse tripped again in response to seeing him here.
Beneath a thick shock of dark auburn hair touched with a few white strands at the temples, Paulâs jade-green eyes lit with a smile that meandered more slowly to his firm lips, drawing her attention there. âIf this keeps happening, youâre going to file a protection order against me,â he said in the deep voice she remembered so well from those other two brief meetings. Sheâd heard it a few times in her daydreams since, she thought sheepishly. âI swear Iâm not actually targeting you.â