Michelle Major – A Baby And A Betrothal (страница 1)
Kiss his best friend?
His whole body hummed with desire. Her eyes reflected the same heat. Had it always been there and he’d been too blind to notice it?
“Katie,” he whispered, “I want to kiss you.”
He expected her to walk away. To be the voice of reason.
Instead she leaned forward and kissed him. She nipped at the corner of his mouth then traced her tongue along the seam of his lips.
Where had homebody Katie Garrity learned to kiss like this? He pulled her against him, deepened the kiss and fell back against the couch, taking her with him.
His hands hiked up her sweater to the clasp of her bra. With one quick movement he unhooked it.
Katie giggled against his mouth. “Somehow I knew you'd be good at that. Loads of experience, I imagine.”
To his embarrassment, Katie didn't have to imagine. Noah made no secret of his no-commitment flings. What was he doing? This was his friend. “We shouldn't—”
“We should.” She pressed her hand over his mouth. “I want to know what else you're good at.”
* * *
Crimson, Colorado: Finding home—and forever—in the West
A Baby and a Betrothal
Michelle Major
MICHELLE MAJOR grew up in Ohio but dreamed of living in the mountains. Soon after graduating with a degree in journalism, she pointed her car west and settled in Colorado. Her life and house are filled with one great husband, two beautiful kids, a few furry pets and several well-behaved reptiles. She’s grateful to have found her passion writing stories with happy endings. Michelle loves to hear from her readers at www.michellemajor.com.
To the Special Edition readers.
You are the best ever, and I feel blessed
to be part of your world!
Contents
It was pretty much a given that a first date was a disaster when getting ready for it had been the best part of the evening.
Katie Garrity picked at the pale pink polish on her fingernails as she tried to look interested in the man sitting across from her. Owning a bakery was tough on her hands, so she’d tried to make them look more feminine tonight. She’d blown out her hair, applied makeup and even worn a dress and heels. All to look datable, the kind of woman a man would want to marry and have babies with. Her stomach squeezed at the time and effort she’d wasted. Or maybe it was her ovaries clenching.
Her date tapped his fingers on the table and her gaze snapped to his. “I have a couple of friends who are on gluten-free diets,” she said, hoping she was responding to the question he’d asked. “I’ve been working on some recipes that would appeal to them.”
“I’m talking about more than gluten-free.” Her date shook his head. “I mean a full overhaul to a raw-foods diet. You would not believe how fast your colon cleans out when—”
“Got it,” Katie interrupted, looking over his shoulder for the waitress. The man, Mike, the project manager from nearby Aspen, had already given her too many details on what happened to his digestive system after a few bites of bread.
Why had she agreed to this date in the first place?
Because one of her customers had offered to set her up, and Katie wanted a date. A date that might lead to more, might give her the future she so desperately craved but couldn’t seem to manage on her own.
She knew almost everyone in her hometown of Crimson, Colorado, but her popularity hadn’t helped her love life in recent years. Men might be addicted to the pastries she created in her bakery, Life is Sweet, but that was where their interest in her ended.
“You should think about changing your shop to a raw-foods restaurant. The one in Aspen is doing quite well.”
Katie focused on Mike, her eyes narrowing. “Are you suggesting I close my bakery? The one I inherited from my grandmother and has been in my family for three generations?” She had nothing against vegetables, but this was too much.
“Sugar could be considered a drug,” Mike continued, oblivious to the fact that steam was about to start shooting from her ears. “It’s like you’re running a meth lab.”
She felt her mouth drop open. “Okay, we’re done here.” She stood, pulled her wallet out of her purse and threw a few bills on the table. “Thank you for an enlightening evening. Have a safe drive back to Aspen.”
Mike blinked, glanced at his watch then up at her. “Should I call you?”
“I’ll be busy,” she answered through gritted teeth. “Baking in my ‘meth lab.’”
She turned for the bar. Although they’d met for dinner at the brewery that had opened in downtown Crimson a few months ago, Mike had insisted they both order water while droning on about the contaminants in microbrewed beer. She needed a good dose of contaminants right about now.
The doors to the brewery’s patio were open, letting in fresh mountain air on this early-summer night. The days were warm in Crimson in June, but because of the altitude the temperatures dropped at night. Still, there was a crowd out front, and Katie was glad for it. Crimson was a quaint, historic town nestled at nine thousand feet deep in the Rocky Mountains, with streets lined with Victorian-era houses. Crimson attracted a fair number of visitors, and anything that brought more people into downtown was good for all the local businesses, including her bakery.
Turning back to the bar, her gaze snagged on a set of broad shoulders hunched over the polished wood. Katie felt her ovaries go on high alert. Down, girls, she admonished silently.
She walked closer, ordered a pale ale from the bartender and nudged the shoulder next to her. “Hey, Noah. When did you get to town?”
“Katie-bug.” Noah Crawford’s deep voice washed over her. Then he smiled, turning her insides to mush. Of course, she’d had this response to Noah since high school, so she was used to functioning as a glob of goo. “I got in a few days ago to see my mom. What are you doing out tonight?”