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Do You Take This Daddy?
Katie Meyer
CAN A HONEYMOON GONE WRONG…Mollie Post has a soft spot for strays. So when she finds Noah James stranded in her small town, she impulsively offers to show the newly single artist around the island. Determined to build her photography career, Mollie’s not looking for love.But the talented sculptor might just be as good for her heart as he is with his hands.LEAD TO HAPPILY-EVER-AFTER?When his pregnant fiancée runs out on their wedding, Noah was secretly relieved. He wanted to be a father, but she wasn't the woman for him. So bright, beautiful Mollie is a refreshing change of pace. Their attraction is electric…until his ex shows up with a baby surprise. Can Noah manage fatherhood and build forever with Mollie in Paradise?
“Well,” Noah drawled, trailing a finger from her cheek down to her lips.
“There’s just friends, and there’s making love, and there’s a whole lot of space in between. Maybe we can play it by ear, and find our way down the middle?”
Mollie shivered, fighting the urge to lean into him. She needed to get this straight. She was in uncharted waters and didn’t want to run aground on some hidden reef. “So you’re saying we’d be … what? Dating? And then what?”
He sobered. “And then I leave. But I’ve got until the end of the week, and I’d like to spend it with you. And I don’t want to be fighting the urge to kiss you the whole time.”
So, this was it. She could take what he was offering for now, and then he’d be gone. Or she could say goodbye to him now, and never see him again. Put that way, it really wasn’t even a choice. “So are you going to kiss me again, or what?”
* * *
Paradise Animal Clinic: Let the love—and fur-ever families—fly!
Do You Take
This Daddy?
Katie Meyer
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
KATIE MEYER is a Florida native with a firm belief in happy endings. A former veterinary technician and dog trainer, she now spends her days homeschooling her children, writing and snuggling with her pets. Her guilty pleasures include good chocolate, Downton Abbey and cheap champagne. Preferably all at once. She looks to her parents’ whirlwind romance and her own happy marriage for her romantic inspiration.
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 couldn’t do it without them.
Contents
Cover (#u2cd2d22d-9204-5814-95e3-bd3523f2db79)
Introduction (#u4cbda969-9695-519d-af5a-e57944b92536)
Title Page (#uf0dbfa79-593a-53c7-a974-0e86d589862f)
About the Author (#udb4fcfef-a33c-53ed-91ab-980e69ebe3ac)
Dedication (#u29dc752d-9b66-5328-8430-36daf0e11490)
Chapter One (#u60c18cc9-b220-5bfa-97d1-d0e7350a5036)
Chapter Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)
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)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_619c0cdf-acbc-599b-8e0a-4a0733922f00)
It definitely wasn’t 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 wasn’t 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 wasn’t an option, not after she’d 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 he’d hoped for in a bride, but there was no way he was going to miss out on raising his child.
He’d been there to hear the heartbeat, chugging along. He’d squinted at the ultrasound pictures, unable to understand any of it but overwhelmed all the same. And he’d been there to feel the first kicks, the first tiny movements of his unborn son. Except it hadn’t 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 she’d eaten the last cookie rather than torn apart his life. Some other guy was the father-to-be, and he’d 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. He’d turned what should have been their honeymoon into a bachelor’s vacation. He’d 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 he’d have an ex-career to go with his ex-fiancée.
“Sir, would you care for a cocktail?” The flight attendant waited expectantly, a bevy of liquor bottles and mixers on her cart.
“I don’t think so. Water will be fine.” He’d 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 Noah’s gut clenched.
“I’m so sorry,” the frazzled mother apologized. “He’s teething, and walking the aisles is the only thing that seems to calm him.”
Noah forced a smile. “It’s fine.” He even waved at the little guy as the mom turned to go back the way she came, and was rewarded with a gummy grin that cut right to his heart, stirring up the pain he’d tried to bury.
Maybe he’d have that cocktail after all. “Miss, could you switch that to a whiskey and coke?”
* * *
Noah meant to have one drink, just to take the edge off. He certainly hadn’t planned on getting drunk. But seeing that baby had reminded him a bit too much of the mess his life had turned into, and before he knew it he had an impressive collection of tiny liquor bottles covering his seat tray. Which meant he was most definitely drunk. Or whatever came after that. Snookered? Wasn’t that what the British called it? He was pretty sure he’d heard that on Sherlock once. Whatever you wanted to call it, it felt pretty amazing. The only problem was he was finding it just a wee bit difficult to walk. Also, he’d planned on renting a car while at the airport, but driving was most definitely out of the question. Luckily, a very nice security guard had been on hand to pour him into a cab.
Now that car was stopped in a gravel driveway fronting a three-story wood-framed building. Hanging from the wraparound porch was a sign, identifying it as the historic Sandpiper Inn. The perfect location for a destination wedding or honeymoon, at least according to the brochure he’d memorized. Hopefully it was also a decent place to sleep off a binge.
The driver unloaded Noah’s suitcase from the trunk, and happily accepted the crush of bills he gave him for a tip. It was probably too much, but he was in no shape to do the math, and it wasn’t like money was an issue.
No, his issues were far more complicated.
The most pressing being the way the ground kept shifting under his feet. Clutching his bag, he tried to navigate the wide, whitewashed stairs leading to the front door.
Tried, and failed.
Two steps up, and he was on his butt. At least, with all the liquid courage he’d imbibed, it didn’t hurt. In fact, everything felt a bit numb. Maybe he should just stay put until he sobered up a bit. He’d planned on relaxing and might as well start now.
“Hey, are you all right down there?”
He looked around. No one. Man, was he starting to hallucinate?
“Do you need some help?”
This time, he managed to focus his not-so-steady vision in the direction of the voice. Up on the porch, sitting on a cushioned bench, was the most amazing woman he’d ever seen. She had short, close-cropped brown hair framing an elfin face. Her large brown eyes were too big for the rest of her, and were currently zeroed in on him, and his not-so-stable perch on the steps.
“You’re gorgeous.” Oops. He was pretty sure he just said that out loud.
Her laugh confirmed that yes, he had. Stupid alcohol.
“Are you drunk?” She stood up and started down the stairs towards him. Her legs were long and lean, sprinkled with the same freckles that dotted her nose. She stopped beside him, and he nearly toppled over trying to look directly up at her.
“Could you not be so tall?” he asked, politely, he thought.
“Sure.” She chuckled again and sat down on the steps next to him. “You are drunk, aren’t you?”
“I guess so.” He might as well admit it. “See, the thing is, I don’t drink.”
She eyed him skeptically. “Right.”
“I mean, I don’t normally drink. But today I did. A lot, I think.”
“Yeah, I think that’s a safe guess.” She smirked. “Well, you’ll sober up, I imagine, but you can’t do it here. Jillian sent me to keep an eye out for some guests who booked the honeymoon suite, so she could give them a special welcome. And I don’t think a drunk guy collapsed on the steps is quite the welcome she had in mind.”
“No worries,” he reassured her. “That’s me. I’m the couple you’re looking for.” He stuck out a hand for her to shake. She took it, eyeing him curiously. “Noah James.”
“Mollie Post, nice to meet you.” She looked past him onto the path below. “But where’s your wife? Is she taking a walk on the beach or something?”
“She’s not coming.” The buzz must be wearing off, because that sounded pathetic even to him.
“What do you mean, she’s not coming? You can’t have a honeymoon without the bride.”
She probably thought he was confused because of the whole drunk thing. But on this particular point he was perfectly clear. “Then call this a first. No bride. No wedding, for that matter. She took off before the rehearsal dinner.” The pleasant numbness from earlier was replaced by a pounding in his head.
Her mouth dropped open. “Wow, that sucks.”
Her frank acknowledgment did more than all the softly worded platitudes he’d heard in the past week. “Yeah, it does suck. But I figured it could suck back home, where everyone kept asking me if I was okay every two minutes. Or it could suck here, on the beach, with a margarita in my hand.” His stomach lurched. “Although, I think I’ll skip the margaritas.”
* * *
Mollie watched the newcomer with fascination. She didn’t care much for alcohol herself, but she wasn’t bothered by his blatant drunkenness. He seemed harmless enough, and Nic and Jillian were right inside. Besides, he looked like he needed a friend. So she sat on the sun warmed steps with him, watching a flock of white ibises pick their way across the lawn.
He was certainly nice enough to look at, a long, lean body and slightly curly brown hair that was just a shade too long. His face was almost beautiful, with high cheekbones. But it was his eyes that really got to her, dark and hooded; they were the kind of eyes that saw things other people didn’t. The eyes of an old soul, her Granny would have said. She wondered what his story was.
“You’re staring.”
“So? You’re interesting to look at.”
He blinked, and then let out a hoot of laughter. “Do you always say just what you’re thinking?”
“Pretty much. I’m told I have no filter.” She shrugged. “I tried, for a while, to learn to say the right things. But it never really stuck.”
“I’m glad it didn’t. Not many people are willing, or able, to be that honest. It’s a good thing.”
“Most people don’t think so. My fifth grade catechism teacher found it particularly upsetting.” She winked conspiratorially. “She smelled funny.”
He winced. “You told her that?”
“I thought she’d want to know. Turns out, not so much. People are funny that way. Most of the time, they don’t want the truth.”
“Yeah, well sometimes the truth is painful.” He stretched, sprawling his lanky legs in front of him.
“Oops. Sorry. Yeah, I guess you’ve had your share of truth for the time being, huh?”
“You have no idea.”
“So tell me.” She stood up. “We can get some dinner, get you some water to flush out the booze, and you can tell me how you ended up on your non-honeymoon.” Gossip usually wasn’t her thing, but he looked like he could use someone to talk to. And she never had been able to turn her back on a stray.
His boyish grin was a startling contrast to his soulful eyes. “Did you just ask me out on a date?”
She hadn’t, had she? “No, I don’t date. But I’m hungry, you need to eat something to soak up the rest of the alcohol and I want to hear your story. New friends having dinner, not a date.”
“You don’t date at all?” He squinted at her, as if he expected to see some kind of physical sign to explain her celibacy.
“It’s a long story, and I’m starving. Ask me again later.”
“Shouldn’t I get checked in first?”
“That depends. Can you make it up the steps yet?”
He looked up and shook his head. “Good point. Dinner it is. Where’s your car?”
She wasn’t one to let common sense interfere with an adventure, but even she had limits. “No car—we’re going to walk. There’s a place just down the beach path.” A popular place for an evening stroll, with plenty of people around just in case her instincts about him were wrong.
“Afraid to be alone with me?”
Caution was part of it. Her parents might think she was naive, but she knew not to get into a car with someone she’d just met, even if she was the one driving. But there was another, more pressing reason.
