Victorious, and not a little flustered, she sat back on her heels and smiled up at him witlessly. Her hair was on end, her cheeks were flushed and she was laughing. So was he—except she had the distinct and uncomfortable feeling he was laughing at her.
The rabbit wriggled, and she dived forwards again. She wasn’t letting go of that damn rabbit for anyone. Just another inch—
She lost her balance, what little was left of it, and slowly, like an action replay on the television, she toppled over and ended up face-down in his jeans-clad and very masculine lap. Heat scalded her cheeks, and she wriggled backwards, digging her chin into his thigh to lift her head.
‘Ouch!’
Firm, strong hands cupped her shoulders and lifted her away before she could do any lasting damage. His eyes were sparkling, his lips twitching with amusement and something else—something very male and distracting that took the last of her breath away.
‘I know the advert said the show had a wonderful climax,’ he murmured, laughter threading his voice, ‘but never in my wildest dreams…!’
CHAPTER ONE
‘BUT I want a lolly!’
‘Later, darling.’
She scanned the shop anxiously. He couldn’t be here! Of all the places, and of all the people to run into all these miles away, it would have to be him!
If it was him, of course. It might not be—if she was lucky. If she wasn’t—and just recently her luck had been running somewhat thin—she could only imagine what it would do to their holiday!
Heat scalded her cheeks. The last time they’d met—the only time they’d met, in fact—had been a disaster. She could still vividly remember the embarrassment, the chaos, the pandemonium—
‘Mummy, please!’
‘Pretty please, with a cherry on top, an’ loads of juicy cream?’
‘You did promise us.’
She closed her eyes in defeat. Cassie was right; she had promised them— ‘All right, then, just this once. Go and choose, then come and find me. I’ll carry on.’
And hopefully Haddon and his handful of hooligans wouldn’t see her…
It was her. He was sure—certain of it. She’d made enough of an impact, after all, he thought with grim humour. He hurried round the corner, pushing the trolley round the aisles of the little supermarket, searching for another glimpse.
She was so damn small, of course—five foot in thick socks, and as skinny as her rabbit.
Well, perhaps not skinny, he amended, remembering the soft curves pressed against him as she’d chased the rabbit under his chair and cornered it finally, with her breasts forced against his shins and her chin resting in his lap in a very tantalising and inviting way.
She’d been flushed to the roots of that lovely natural blonde hair, her dazzling blue-green eyes wide with laughter and apology and something else—something he hadn’t had time to investigate but which had played havoc with his sleep pattern for weeks.
He hadn’t been able to contact her. The real magician—the proper one that he’d booked for the kids’ party—had been most evasive when he’d rung. He’d been offered a refund, but that wasn’t what he had wanted.
What he’d wanted, however, had been too difficult to explain—if he’d even known himself. So he’d been forced to give up.
And now here she was, more than a year later, in the same adventure holiday village as them.
With someone?
He felt a stab of disappointment, and squashed it with a silent chuckle. ‘Idiot,’ he muttered, and Nicky tipped her head back and peered up at him from the toddler seat in the trolley.
‘Not idiot,’ she protested indignantly.
‘Not you, darling, me. I’ve forgotten something,’ he explained feebly, and with a sigh he shoved the trolley round the corner, nearly crashing into someone.
Someone small, and blonde, and—
‘Molly?’
She froze, then turned in slow motion. Her eyes were wide and wary and beautiful, and her lips were working slightly. He had an insane urge to kiss them—
‘Do I know you?’ she asked with commendable cool.
Jack stifled a chuckle of admiration. He’d been a cop for too many years to mistake someone at this range—especially this someone. He smiled at her over Nicky’s head. ‘Jack Haddon—you did a party for my son Tom a year ago.’
Her eyes flared with panic, but she kept her cool. ‘There must be some mistake,’ she began, but then Seb and Amy and Tom came charging round the corner and slithered to a halt, staring at her in delight.
‘It’s Molly the Magician!’ Tom yelled, and the colour in her cheeks slid up into her hair and darkened to a fetching crimson.
‘Hi, kids,’ she said weakly, and he met her eye and waited. She swallowed and smiled feebly. ‘Um—yes, I think I remember now.’
‘You brought a rabbit, and it ran away under the seats,’ Amy reminded her.
‘And we all chased it, and you caught it under Jack’s chair, but it got frightened and wee’d on you,’ Tom added.
She gave a breathless little giggle and bit her lips to trap the laugh. ‘So it did. Well, nice to see you again.’ She edged away, her eyes flying up to meet Jack’s and then flying away again. ‘Have a nice holiday.’
‘You, too.’ Then he added, because he was suddenly very curious, ‘Are you here all week?’
‘Um—yes.’
His heart, unaccountably, soared, and his mouth quirked into a smile of its own accord. ‘Good. I’ll see you round.’
Molly returned the open, friendly smile a little distractedly, and made her escape. She couldn’t believe he didn’t hate her. It had been the most dreadful party.
She gave a little moan of anguish at the memory, just as her kids came running up. ‘We’ve got orange lollies,’ her son said. Her daughter gave her a keen look.
‘Are you all right? You made a funny noise, and you’re a very strange colour.’
She pasted on a smile. ‘I’m fine. Come on, guys, we’ve got to find out where you need to be in the morning, and we have to go back and unpack, and then maybe we’ll have time for a swim—’
She was gabbling, running off at the mouth a mile a minute, but it was all his fault. He just turned her inside out with that knowing, sexy smile and those laughing eyes—
‘Damn.’
‘Mummy!’
She hadn’t realised she’d said it out loud. She threw an apologetic glance at her son. He was looking mildly scandalised and a little fascinated, because she simply didn’t swear—at least, not aloud, and certainly not in front of them. ‘Sorry, Philip. Right, let’s go and pay for this lot and we can go back to our cabin.’
Unloading the shopping half an hour later was a chastening experience. Bread, but no butter or marge. Peanut butter—they all hated peanut butter; she hadn’t bought it since David left—oven chips, a small pepperoni pizza, a pint of skimmed milk, not semi-skimmed as usual—the list of oddities and inconsistencies rambled on. Blue cheese, a tin of tuna, no salad or teabags—the man had distracted her so badly she couldn’t think.
‘So, what’s for supper?’ Philip asked curiously, eyeing the collection with distaste.