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Mission: Marriage
Hannah Bernard
Lea is turning thirty, and the alarm is ringing on her biological clock. But how does a woman with just one ex-boyfriend under her belt learn to find Mr. Right?Tom may be a serial dater with no interest in settling down, but he's perfect as a dating consultant to help Lea find her flirting feet! Only, when their "practice date" leads to more than one "practice kiss," Lea and Tom find they have to look again at what they really want…
“You should at least have one last fling before settling down.”
“A fling?” she repeated suspiciously. “I don’t have flings.”
“What? Never?”
“You mean like a one-night stand with a complete stranger? No. No way.”
“Not a one-night stand with a stranger. Just a fling with someone you’re attracted to—without attaching forever after, babies and a fiftieth wedding anniversary to the package.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Can’t I have a fling with someone I’m attracted to—and attach the whole package, too?”
“Sure. If you find one.”
“Good. Let’s just work on that, then.”
“Okay. You’re the boss. But I still think a fling is just what you need.”
Interesting suggestion, Tom, his conscience taunted. And just who did you have in mind for her “last fling”?
Shut up, he told himself.
Dear Reader,
We’re constantly striving to bring you the best romance fiction by the most exciting authors…and in Harlequin Romance® we’re especially keen to feature fresh, sparkling, warmly emotional novels. Modern love stories to suit your every mood: poignant, deeply moving stories; lively, upbeat romances with sparks flying; or sophisticated, edgy novels with an international flavor.
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Mission: Marriage
Hannah Bernard
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE (#u30873ee6-9476-5944-bfcc-cee514344c92)
CHAPTER TWO (#ua51deebf-3844-5e9b-8b5f-3f1ed2a310aa)
CHAPTER THREE (#ud86ec3aa-b639-5f02-81c5-2e3f24a973c7)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
BABIES are obnoxious, Lea decided, balancing her friend’s eleven-month-old on her lap. Yes. Totally obnoxious. Not only did bringing them into this world involve hours—if not nine months—of suffering, but once they were there, they were loud, filthy, demanding, and never gave a moment’s peace from cleaning and feeding and everything else that needed to be done. They consumed their parents’ lives, swallowed them up whole, leaving no time or energy for anything else. Then they grew up to be sullen, ungrateful, troublesome teenagers, who after years of turning their parents’ hair gray, finally became adults, left the nest, and never bothered to call or visit with their own little brats.
Yes. Babies were obnoxious.
And, God, how she wanted one.
Unexpected moisture in her eyes blurred the sight of obnoxious little Danny, and the bowl of food she was currently try to get on the inside of him. What was wrong with her? She ripped a tissue out of her purse and managed to get rid of the tears under the pretext of cleaning some of the mashed bananas from the tip of Danny’s snubby little nose.
“Everything okay?” Anne chirped from where she was loading the fridge with groceries.
“Why shouldn’t everything be okay?” Lea snapped back, nerves suddenly too fragile to deal with her friend’s inquisitions. Anne raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“Danny isn’t always fond of bananas,” she said. “Sometimes he spits everything out. I was just wondering if he was behaving.”
Lea shook her head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. Yeah, he’s eating.” Eating was one way of putting it. The mashed banana was on his face, in his downy black hair, on his chest—not to mention all over her own shirt—but she did believe some of it had made it into his mouth. From there, some of it had probably followed the standard path down to his stomach, but percentage wise, it wasn’t a lot of the original product. She added another negative thing to her I’m-better-off-without-a-baby list: inefficient eating habits.
“He tends to eat more when strangers feed him, actually,” Anne said. “Gives him something to think about other than finding new ways to make us tear our hair out in frustration.”
Lea tilted another spoonful of banana into Danny’s mouth and watched half of it slide down his chin and drop onto his colorful terry bib. The child slapped the glob with his fist, splashing some on the wall and on Lea’s face. For a moment she wondered about the status of the floor, but decided not to look down. Ignorance really was bliss. “He’s a lot of work, isn’t he?”
“Endless,” Anne sighed with a smile and plopped down in a chair on the other side of the table. “And will be even more work once he’s moving around on his own. But he’s sleeping through the night now, did I tell you?” Excitement made her nearly bounce in her seat. “Last Saturday night was the first night in a whole year that I got whole seven hours of uninterrupted sleep. I couldn’t believe it when he finally woke me up and I saw what time it was.”
“Yes, I know, you told me.” Anne had called at seven o’clock on Sunday morning with this exciting news, nearly incoherent with exhilaration—or maybe it was sleep overdose. She’d woken Lea up, who in her sleepy state had committed the nearly unforgivable crime of failing to register the importance of this event. Another vote against babies: lack of sleep at night, no weekend lie-ins. For years.
Yup. Better off without one. Definitely. Are you listening, biological clock?
“I’m sorry,” Anne laughed, looking embarrassed. “The universe shrinks after you have a baby and are staying at home. Suddenly the tiny everyday miracles are such a big deal, and you automatically assume everyone else is interested in them.” She smiled wryly. “You also tend to assume the rest of the world gets up at six o’clock, weekend or not.”
“I’m interested,” Lea protested. “And it was fine. I shouldn’t waste my weekends sleeping away the mornings, anyway.”
“You can put Danny in the chair, if you like. You’d get less food on you that way.”
“It’s okay. I like holding him.”
In fact, she didn’t want to let go. When she’d picked up Danny this afternoon, she’d suddenly identified the stark feeling of emptiness that had invaded her life recently.
She wanted a baby. She needed a baby.
It made no sense. She wasn’t married, didn’t even have a boyfriend, had a busy and fulfilling career, and no reason in the world to want a baby in her life at this time.
Yet she did. Nature was making her wishes clear. Logic didn’t stand a chance against the devious lady, who’d obviously been counting up the years, tallying each of the wasted eggs that vanished one by one each month.
The intensity of the longing was almost frightening. She must have hit the snooze button on her biological clock one time too many. It was now ringing with a vengeance.
It was that birthday, she thought with a silent sigh. The dreaded, looming thirtieth birthday was approaching rapidly with all its connotations. Add to that the gruesome fact that this week also happened to mark one year since she’d kicked Harry out of her life. Her Prince Charming who’d turned out to be the biggest toad of all. She’d wasted years on Mr. Wrong, and what did she have to show for it? Yup, a distrust of human nature and a bottomed-out self-esteem. Not to mention a butchered CD collection.
But her year of wallowing in self-pity, nursing her broken heart, was up. It was time to move on. Meet new people.
Meet new men.
If only she could figure out the basics. How did one even go about meeting men these days? Meeting the right men? They certainly weren’t showing up out of the blue.
“So, are you seeing anyone?”
Anne the mind reader. Lea shrugged. “No one special.” She didn’t know what it was, a matter of pride or dignity, perhaps, but she felt uncomfortable, sharing her feelings with her settled friends, who had their future all figured out with their husbands and their babies. It felt awkward.
“No one at all, isn’t it?”
Lea shrugged again. “I’ve been busy.”
“It’s been forever since you broke up with the rat. Isn’t it about time you started dating again?” Now her friend’s voice was reproachful. Not a first, either. Emancipation be damned, apparently it was still the single woman’s sacred duty to keep husband-hunting until she found one.
Danny snuggled up to her and yawned.
Husbands did have their advantages. She wouldn’t be getting an obnoxious brat of her own without one, would she?
But the very words “start dating” sent shivers down her back. “Again? What do you mean again? I met Harry my first week in college. Unless you count high school, I’ve never dated in my life.”
“Well, it can’t be that difficult. Everybody’s doing it.”
Lea shook her head. “I’d screw it up. Have you read the women’s magazines lately? They’re writing ten-page articles just on the anatomy of first kisses, let alone anything….” She covered Danny’s ears, just in case what she was about to say would warp him for life. “I glanced at one article at the dentist’s last week. There are rules for what kind of things you can do with a guy your first time together. Can you believe it? You can’t do this, unless he does that, and then only if you’ve done this previously…” She groaned and allowed Danny to twist his head out of her grasp. He waved his fists around, then settled down to sucking his thumb, grumbling quietly to himself, no doubt about the injustice of having been cut off from this educational conversation.
“Rules? Really?” Anne looked fascinated. “I haven’t read those magazines for ages. What kind of things can’t you do unless he does what? Who made up those rules? How do you even know they’re for real? How can you be sure the guy knows about them? What happens if one of you breaks them?”
Lea refused to grin at her friend’s teasing, and took her questions at face value instead. “I don’t know. I barely glanced at the headlines.”
“Did it come with some kind of a flowchart? You know, something like ‘If male does A, do B, else C, unless he does D, in which case go straight to XXX’? Or maybe a checklist to put in your bedside drawer?”
“I don’t know,” Lea repeated, feeling grumpy. This wasn’t funny. Well, maybe it was funny to people to whom it wasn’t relevant, but it was deadly serious to her, who might have to deal with these situations. “I wasn’t interested.”
“You don’t have to be interested. Look at it as homework for dating school.”
Lea rested her head on top of Danny’s head. “I don’t want to learn. It’s scary. Somehow dating has evolved into this intricate game with all kinds of subtle rules and scripts.” She shuddered. “Just thinking about it frightens the hell out of me.”
“Well, if you want to meet guys, you’ll have to,” Anne said rationally. “Mr. Rights don’t show up on their own. You have to go find them.” She snapped her fingers. “Tell you what, I’ll ask Brian if there isn’t someone at work we can set you up with. He works with literally hundreds of guys, after all—there has to be one there for you.”
“No!” Oh, God no, not a blind date. “Anne, I’m not ready. I haven’t even read the first-kiss articles! I’ll have to do some serious research before I dive in.”
“You’ll never be ‘ready,’ Lea. It doesn’t work that way. You just have to do it. Why not give it a chance? One date won’t kill you.” She smiled and held her hands out for her child. Danny squealed with pleasure, squirming to push himself into his mother’s arms.
Lea felt bereft, her arms empty without the child.
“One date?” Anne pushed. “Just to get your toes wet. Look at it as practice.”
Lea began to shake her head, but Danny chose that exact moment to look up at his mother and laugh, then wrapped his arms around her neck and gave her a wet, banana kiss on her chin. Lea felt her heart liquefy and head straight for her ovaries with instructions to prepare for immediate procreation.
If she were planned on ever having children, a man was kind of a necessary evil in the whole process, not only making the child, but caring for it. Being a single mother was not something she had a desire for. A child needed two parents.
Anne was right. It was time. It wasn’t about just grabbing anyone for procreation, but if she had hopes for a future with a family, now was the time to start looking. Who knew how many years that would take? She didn’t have all the time in the world any more. It was time to test the waters.
“Okay,” she conceded. “Just as a practice date. But you better pick someone…not dreadful.”
Anne hesitated. “What’s your definition of dreadful?”
Uh, oh.
Could this be any worse?
Lea groaned under her breath as her date tried for another footsie. She sat up straighter and tucked her feet under her chair. It hadn’t looked too bad at first, not compared to some of the blind dates horror stories she’d read. James was presentable, didn’t pick his nose over the appetizer, and was even a semi-interesting conversationalist, even though his topics of choice all seemed rather similar.
But that was it, as far as the good side went.
For one, he yelled at the waiters and waitresses. Not even in an impolite way—yet—but just as a routine way of getting their attention, his shrill voice echoing from the dark wooden walls of the cozy restaurant. Lea had nearly jumped out of her too-tight heels the first time. The second time, when every single eye in the restaurant had turned on them, a couple of people out of eyeshot even standing up to check what the ruckus was all about, she’d almost slid all the way under the table in an effort to pretend she wasn’t with that man. Her foot had accidentally brushed his—which was when the footsie had started.
Things had gone downhill from there, and they weren’t even halfway through the appetizer yet. Thank God for cocktails.
Anne and Brian would be hearing about this for a long, long time, Lea thought grimly.
