âWell,â Noah drawled, trailing a finger from her cheek down to her lips.
âThereâs just friends, and thereâs making love, and thereâs a whole lot of space in between. Maybe we can play it by ear, and find our way down the middle?â
Mollie shivered, fighting the urge to lean into him. She needed to get this straight. She was in uncharted waters and didnât want to run aground on some hidden reef. âSo youâre saying weâd be ⦠what? Dating? And then what?â
He sobered. âAnd then I leave. But Iâve got until the end of the week, and Iâd like to spend it with you. And I donât want to be fighting the urge to kiss you the whole time.â
So, this was it. She could take what he was offering for now, and then heâd be gone. Or she could say goodbye to him now, and never see him again. Put that way, it really wasnât even a choice. âSo are you going to kiss me again, or what?â
* * *
Paradise Animal Clinic: Let the loveâand fur-ever familiesâfly!
This book is dedicated to
My husband, for the countless weekends he took kid duty so I could write. (And for never mentioning all the book purchases that show up on our bank statement.)
A big thank-you also to the Romance Divas and all my writing friends who helped me wrangle this book into submission.
And as always, my gratitude goes to my agent, editors and the entire Mills & Boon team. I couldnât do it without them.
Chapter One
It definitely wasnât the worst honeymoon on record, Noah James decided. That honor belonged to the unhappily married couple behind him, who had already argued about everything from who got the window seat to where to make dinner reservations when they landed. Sure, he might be flying solo on the way to what should have been his honeymoon, but there were some good points of being jilted practically at the altar. Like two weeks in Paradise, Florida, stretching out in front of him, with no one to answer to other than himself. Unlike the newlyweds in the next row, he could eat when he wanted, go where he wanted, and do his own thing.
It wasnât as if his heart had been broken, although his ego had taken a pretty good beating. Dating Angela had been a mistake from the beginning. But breaking up with her wasnât an option, not after sheâd shown him the test with the two pink lines. In that instant, his stomach had dropped and his world had turned upside down. Just like that, Angela went from a fling to a fiancée. She might not have been what heâd hoped for in a bride, but there was no way he was going to miss out on raising his child.
Heâd been there to hear the heartbeat, chugging along. Heâd squinted at the ultrasound pictures, unable to understand any of it but overwhelmed all the same. And heâd been there to feel the first kicks, the first tiny movements of his unborn son. Except it hadnât been his son at all.
Two days ago, Angela had disappeared, leaving her ring and a note after helping herself to a good portion of his available cash. Her written apology had been brief, as if sheâd eaten the last cookie rather than torn apart his life. Some other guy was the father-to-be, and heâd been nothing but an easy mark for yet another gold digger.
He probably should have been embarrassed, but more than anything he just felt empty inside. Not that he missed Angela. The spoiled socialite had seemed fun at first, but her true colors had eventually come out and he was nothing but grateful to have avoided being legally bound to her. But losing his son, or what he thought was his son, had left him aimless and confused.
Finding out it was too late to get refunds on anything had given him the excuse he needed to get out of town, and away from prying eyes. Heâd turned what should have been their honeymoon into a bachelorâs vacation. Heâd get his head on straight and come back to Atlanta ready to focus on his work. His art had suffered during the constant storm of his relationship, and it was time to recommit to it, while the name Noah James still meant something in the art world. Otherwise heâd have an ex-career to go with his ex-fiancée.
âSir, would you care for a cocktail?â The flight attendant waited expectantly, a bevy of liquor bottles and mixers on her cart.
âI donât think so. Water will be fine.â Heâd never been a drinker, and ten thousand feet in the air seemed like a poor place to take up the practice. The pretty attendant started to hand him a plastic bottle, but had to move aside to let a mother carrying a fussy baby past. The child stared at him with big blue eyes while chewing intently on a drool covered fist, and Noahâs gut clenched.