Yasmin would be lying if she said she hadn’t entertained some late night fantasies about what it would be like to have Noah O’Sullivan’s big, strong hands sliding across her skin, his full lips warm against hers and his taste on her tongue, but that wasn’t going to happen. She didn’t want a baby daddy; she wanted a sperm donor who had no legal rights to her child.
She couldn’t be trusted to pick out a solid, steady, non-serial-killing boyfriend, let alone a father for her unborn baby. She needed Noah’s sperm with no strings attached, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t use all the tools at her disposal to get it.
There wasn’t time to run home, but her favorite secondhand clothing boutique filled with fabulous eclectic-chic outfits was just down the street. If she could sneak past Noah and out the door, she could run down the street, buy something seductively cute, yet still respectable-woman-who-should-be-trusted-to-raise-a-child to wear and be back in ten minutes. Fifteen tops. She would be a few minutes late to the meeting, but it would be worth it to know she was dressed for success.
Decision made, Yasmin leaned forward, letting her hair fall around her face as she crept slowly out of the bathroom hallway. She moved down the row of happily chatting, laughing diners at the back of the restaurant, deliberately avoiding the corner booth and aimed herself for the door, the clink of silverware and the hum of conversation covering her footsteps.
She had made it past the hostess stand and could practically taste the freedom of the sidewalk outside when a bright blue blob attacked from her left flank.
“Yasmin! So good to see you, sweetheart!” The blue blob—Mrs. Feeney, a member of her mother’s book club and proud participant in the Lonesome Point Sunshine Society, a group of citizens committed to spreading sunshine and good will around town—enfolded her in a soft, smothering hug so intense her feet left the ground. “So glad you’re back in town to stay!”
“Hi, Mrs. Feeney.” Yasmin grunted, fighting the urge to squirm free and make a run for the door. She couldn’t afford to cause a scene or attract Noah’s attention, and Mrs. Feeney would definitely cause a scene if Yasmin tried to escape without at least a few moments of friendly banter. “How are you? And Teensy?”
Teensy was Mrs. Feeney’s ancient Chihuahua, an adorable little white dog who suffered from Hanging Tongue syndrome and numerous other ailments her owner was always eager to share with anyone willing to listen.
“Teensy is as well as can be expected, but let’s talk about you, darling,” Mrs. Feeney said, surprising her. “What’s this I hear from your mother, about you raising a baby all alone?”
As Mrs. Feeney set her back on her feet, Yasmin mentally scrambled for the best way to put a quick end to this conversation. She couldn’t look over her shoulder to see if Noah was watching the exchange from across the restaurant—she couldn’t risk him seeing her face—but she sensed her luck was running out. She had to play to Feeney’s concerned citizen side and hope it would override her meddling one.
A glance behind the older woman revealed the long table on the right side of the restaurant was packed with people dressed in bright blue. The members of the Sunshine Society were out in force, fortifying themselves for a day of spreading love and good will throughout the community and Yasmin intended to use that to her advantage.
“I would love to talk about that sometime,” Yasmin said, pasting a smile on her face. “I’m sure you have some interesting thoughts about single parenthood, but I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t bring up some Sunshine Society business first. Did you know that the man with the reptile exhibit next to my mother’s petting zoo only had two paying customers yesterday? Two! And he went to all the trouble to put together such a nice selection of snakes and lizards and some giant toads that are a real thrill to look at.”
Mrs. Feeney’s plush face dimpled. “Aren’t toads amphibians?”
“They are,” Yasmin said, nodding as she inched toward the exit. “But I think when it comes to reptiles and amphibians it’s the thought that counts.”
Mrs. Feeney’s confused expression deepened.
“And the thought here was clearly a need to share a love of exotic, cold-blooded creatures with the people of Lonesome Point,” Yasmin hurried on. “And if that’s not worthy of some special attention, I don’t know what is.”
“Well, I—”
“So, if you could swing by his exhibit today and have a look around, that would be so great,” Yasmin said, reaching for the door. “And we can talk more then. I’ll be helping Mom all afternoon and have nothing but time to listen.”
“All right, then.” Mrs. Feeney shook her head gently. “But I hope you will listen, dear. I know how you are when you’ve got your heart set on something, but raising a baby alone is hard work. And I can’t help thinking this sperm donor thing is a bad idea. I mean, this man might look good on paper, but who knows what he’s really like. For all we know, he could be a serial killer, too.”
Yasmin’s stomach bottomed out, and a sour taste flooded through her mouth.
It was the worst thing Mrs. Feeney could have said. The absolute worst. But before Yasmin could recover from the verbal punch to the gut, a deep voice sounded from behind her, proving her firmly held belief that no matter how bad things are they can always get worse.
“It’s true; I could be a serial killer.”
Yasmin turned slowly until she was gazing up into the very sexy, very unamused brown eyes of none other than Noah O’Sullivan.
CHAPTERSIX
Yasmin
Before Yasmin could thinkof the right thing to say at a moment like this, Mrs. Feeney broke into nervous giggles. A moment later, she had bustled around Yasmin, knocking a small stack of menus off the hostess stand as she moved toward Noah with her hand held out.
“So you’re the donor! Oh my goodness, youarehandsome. And so tall!” Mrs. Feeney turned back to Yasmin, blue eyes wide in her moon-shaped face. “Isn’t he handsome, Yasmin?”
Yasmin nodded slowly, too sick to her stomach to think of anything to say.
“And you two would have a beautiful child,” Mrs. Feeney continued as she claimed Noah’s hand and pumped it up and down. “I hope you’ll forgive me for my comment before. It’s just that I’ve known Yasmin since she was a tiny little baby herself, and I worry about her. She’s always been headstrong.”
“I can imagine,” Noah said, meeting her gaze over Mrs. Feeney’s head. “Her e-mails have been very…determined.”