Do You Take This Daddy?

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.