commitments.”
“Nothing but tonight.”
One crazy, insane night when Molly Hunter, who never did anything without a plan, without thinking things through, had thrown caution to the wind, and let a nearly electric attraction rule her every thought.
Ever since that night, she’d done her best to try to forget the intoxicating man she’d met in Vegas, and she’d thought she’d done a pretty good job of it. He’d been a momentary attraction, a crazy aberration in her life, and even though every once in a while her thoughts drifted to where he might be or whether he was thinking about her, she told herself leaving that one-night stand where it was—in the back of her thoughts as a delicious one-night memory—was the best thing all around.
After all, she was a kindergarten teacher, who did nothing more exciting than teach remedial English to high schoolers in the summer. A conservative woman in every sense of the word. She never did anything remotely like that.
Well, never wasn’t exactly the right term. Almost never!
She’d gone to Vegas with one purpose—to help her good friend Jayne Cavendish forget about the devastating end of her engagement to Rich Strickland. The four friends—Molly, Jayne, Alex Lowell and Serena Warren—had planned a girls’ weekend of manicures, martinis and memories.
They’d done just that the first night, but then the second night they’d been more adventurous, going off in their own directions. For some of them, that time apart had clearly resulted in a bit of trouble.
For Molly—a lot of trouble. She gave the stick a solid shake, then looked at it again. Still two pink lines.
You’re pregnant! those lines screamed in their happy, friendly pastel color.
Yeah, and totally unprepared for this lifechanging event, her mind shouted back.
Oh, God. What was she going to do? What on earth was she going to do?
“Hello! Molly?”
Her mother’s bright, cheery voice carried through Molly’s San Diego bungalow. Molly scooped the pregnancy test, the box and wrapper and hurried to bury them all in the white wicker trash basket, shoving several tissues on top. She emerged from the bathroom, tightening the belt of her white terrycloth robe as she crossed into the kitchen. Rocky, her Jack Russell mix, trotted along at her heels, eying her every few steps and wagging his tail. “Mom. What brings you by so early?” She reached for the dog food, then the small stainless steel bowl beside the canister.
She avoided her mother’s inquisitive gaze. Hoping her face didn’t betray a worried flush. She could only hope that Jayne wouldn’t wake up any time soon. She couldn’t deal with her temporary roommate’s questions, too, especially since Jayne had been there that weekend.
Molly ran a hand through her hair. Had she really done that? Been so…careless? Was she really…pregnant?
“Early?” Cynthia Hunter gaped at her daughter. “Goodness, Molly. It’s ten after eight.”
Molly paused in filling Rocky’s bowl. “That late? Already?” She hurried to put the bowl on the floor. Rocky scrambled after the kibble, his tail now in overdrive. “I have to get out of here.”
“But, Molly, I thought we’d sit down and chat. Your summer school session ended yesterday. Don’t you have plenty of time to—?”
“Sorry, no!” Molly had already spun on her heel and headed toward her bedroom. She’d spent too much time in the bathroom, staring at that stupid stick, as if looking at the lines would make the result any different. She tossed her robe on the unmade, sleep-rumpled bed—she’d have to let that housekeeping detail go for today, even though it would bug her—then threw open her closet and grabbed the first outfit she saw. Gray poplin slacks, a short-sleeved lilac sweater set and black kitten heels.
Two quick light raps sounded on Molly’s bedroom door. “Do you want breakfast, honey? I can make you some poached eggs.”
The thought nearly made Molly rush to the bathroom again. “No. No, thanks, Mom.” She slid the sweater over her head, buttoned her slacks and stepped into the shoes. A quick brush through her hair, a touch of makeup on her face, and she was done—or at least close enough to pass muster.
Molly headed out of her bedroom, running through a mental list as she walked. She really didn’t need to bring anything to today’s meeting, but she liked to be prepared just in case. She’d grab that binder filled with her ideas for next year’s curriculum changes. Oh, and the grant she was working on to expand the reading program. Rumor had it there were going to be cutbacks at Washington Elementary. Molly wanted to be sure not be caught in that if the rumors were true.
She was still running through her day when she rounded the corner—and nearly collided with Jayne. “Oh, sorry!”
Jayne laughed and brushed a few stray tendrils of her short chestnut hair off her forehead. “No problem. You’re in a hurry this morning. Are you leaving early for the meeting with administration?”
Molly nodded.
Jayne assessed her. “Are you nervous? You don’t look like yourself.” The two of them headed into the living room, with Molly feeling caught between the inquisitive eyes of her mother and Jayne at the same time. How on earth was she going to hide this secret?
Well, she had to. She didn’t even know anything for sure. Not yet.
“No.” Molly let out a sigh. “Yes.”
“You’ll do fine,” Cynthia said.
“It’s not that, Mom.” Molly crossed to the small desk in her living room, gathered up the binder holding the curriculum and the folder with the grant materials, then put both into her dark brown leather tote bag. “The budget is what the budget is. If there’s funding for a second kindergarten class this year, then I’ll have a job. And if there isn’t…”
“You won’t. But I’m sure it’ll be fine,” her mother said.
Jayne dittoed her support.
Molly nodded. She couldn’t imagine not working at Washington Elementary School and seeing another flock of kindergarteners in the fall. Their inquisitive faces, blossoming like spring flowers when they learned the basics, from their alphabet to simple addition. She loved her job—and couldn’t picture herself doing anything else. She’d done the same thing, day in and day out, for years, and that was exactly how she liked her life.
If that was so, then why had she been so eager to let loose that one night? To act as if she were someone else?
A psychologist would probably say it was because she was seeking to fill a void in herself. Molly brushed that thought aside. The night had been an aberration, nothing more. She had no “voids” in her life to fill. She was fine.
She’d been in Vegas merely to support Jayne, who’d been going through a rough patch. That was all.
“You look pale,” Cynthia said, taking a step forward and laying a hand on her daughter’s forehead. “Not like yourself. Didn’t you say a summer flu bug was going around? Maybe you caught it.”
She’d caught
