Family Of His Own. Catherine Lanigan

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Family Of His Own - Catherine Lanigan Mills & Boon Heartwarming

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of commitment and even flames of ambition spur him when he’d written the article about the bust. He’d lost track of time. He’d investigated, interviewed and researched for every snippet of fact.

      “So are you game?” Trent asked.

      “I am,” Scott said. He wanted to help. To make a difference in the frightening rise of drug dealing in his town. “So, when is this going down?” Scott asked.

      “Right after midnight.”

      “Okay.” Scott rubbed his chin thinking of beautiful Isabelle and the fact that they’d both caught the magic of New Year’s. “Isabelle’s not going to like this. And what about you and Cate?”

      “Luke and Sarah will take Cate home. Danny’s staying over at their house tonight. Danny’s always up for a sleepover with Timmy and Annie. I don’t know if it’s their golden retriever or playing in the tent in Timmy’s room that he likes most.”

      Scott chuckled. “It couldn’t be that cute little red-haired Annie, could it? I mean, I know Danny is only six...”

      “Just turned seven.”

      Scott spread his hands. “Well then, there you are!”

      Their smiles faded as their thoughts went back to the seriousness of their decision.

      “I promised Isabelle I’d dance with her at midnight.”

      “Sorry,” Trent replied, looking over at Cate, who was pointing to the dance floor. “I’m being summoned. It’s up to you if you want to come, Scott. But I’m leaving at twelve.” Trent rose from his chair and started to walk away. “I forgot to tell you...this is top secret. You can’t tell Isabelle about any of this.”

      Scott sighed.

      Trent slapped his shoulder. “Tough changing the world, isn’t it?”

      “Seriously,” Scott replied as he watched Edgar walk toward the stage with a microphone in his hand. It was nearing midnight. The witching hour. The New Year.

      Isabelle walked toward him through the groups of couples making their way to the dance floor for the final countdown. Her face was filled with expectation and more happiness than he’d seen in her green eyes in a long time. Her smile was enough to kill most grown men.

      He held out his hand. “Wanna dance, beautiful?”

      “I do,” she said, taking his hand and then yanking him toward the floor. The orchestra was just finishing up a romantic ballad. Edgar was thanking everyone, rattling off the Lodges’ reopening dates.

      Scott inhaled the scent of lavender and rose that Isabelle wore, and rested his cheek against her soft one. She felt perfect in his arms. Tonight she looked like a goddess, silver and sparkling like a moonbeam off the lake.

      “I have plans for us,” she whispered wistfully.

      He opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. For months they’d been at odds. They’d had little that reminded them of why they were together at all. He knew she wanted to be with him tonight. Maybe share a brandy by the giant fire in the Lodges’ bar. Or her favorite, a moonlit walk in the snow by the lake. Half an hour ago, Scott would have given anything to do either of those things with Isabelle, but he’d committed to leaving with Trent. He needed this story.

      “Ten!” Edgar shouted into the microphone.

      “Isabelle, I can’t.”

      She stared at him. “Can’t what?”

      He could feel his insides ripping in half. He wanted to be with Isabelle, but a rare opportunity had presented itself. Scott was taking a chance on this assignment with Trent, but he knew if he didn’t try, he’d never know if he could live out his journalism dreams. He was hoping Isabelle would understand. He’d always supported her art; surely she’d return the kindness.

      “Nine!” Edgar shouted. The crowd was now counting with him. Excitement sparked through the room.

      “I have...another commitment.”

      “Eight!”

      “Tonight? Is it your mother?”

      “Not my mom.”

      “Seven!”

      “Scott, it’s New Year’s Eve,” she replied, her eyes filling with confusion. Then, her eyes misted as if she was truly disappointed that he was leaving. With a shock, he thought: She loves me.

      “Six!”

      “I know. It can’t be helped.”

      “Five!”

      Isabelle stopped dancing. She dropped her arms. “What is it? Someone else?”

      She loves me not.

      “What?” he asked incredulously.

      “Four!”

      “There’s only one reason you would leave me here on New Year’s Eve in the middle of all of our friends...”

      “Isabelle, there’s never been anyone but you. You know that! You have to know that,” he urged. She loves me.

      “Three!”

      He stared at her. She loves me not. “If there was someone else, would that even matter to you? You’ve never come close to committing to me.”

      “Two!”

      Isabelle’s eyes watered, but she didn’t answer him.

      Scott took a step back from her. She backed up a step. Tiny movements, yet that distance between them felt as wide as the universe. This was Isabelle. His Isabelle. Or so he’d thought.

      “One!”

      “Happy New Year, Isabelle.”

      Scott moved past her and stalked toward the door. Never had he thought his New Year’s Eve would turn out like this. As the clock struck midnight, Scott had turned onto a new path in his life. He was finished with being underappreciated and inconsequential. Isabelle only paid attention to him when it suited her and she didn’t have anything better to do. Of course she wouldn’t commit to him. He was nothing but detritus to her. No more. His anger toppled the pedestal he’d put her on.

      He would regret not kissing Isabelle soundly that night, but the last chime of the New Year’s clock was Scott’s signal to make some big changes in his life.

      And he was ready.

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