Summer Love: The Best Mistake / Impulse

“I—” Yes. She wanted to say yes. “It’s not just me, Coop.”

“You think I don’t want the kid? God, open your eyes. I’m crazy about him. I fell for him before I fell for you. I want to marry both of you, then maybe have another kid or two so I can start out on the ground floor. We already worked that out.”

“You— Who did what?”

He swore, stepped back and shrugged. “I kind of ran it by the kid. I figured I should smooth the way a little, and find out where he stood.” When she just stared, he jammed his hands in his pockets. “It didn’t seem fair not to bring him into it, since he’d be mine.”

“Yours,” she murmured, staring blindly into her wine.

“Since you two are a team, it would be sort of like an expansion. Anyway, he’s for it. So it’s two against one.”

“I see.”

“Maybe I don’t know a lot about the daddy stuff, but I love him. That’s a good start.”

She looked at him again, looked into his eyes. Her heart opened, flooded. “It’s a good one, all right.”

“I love you.” His hands relaxed in his pockets. “That’s the first time I’ve said that to any woman—except my mother. I love you, Zoe. So why don’t you marry me and give me and the kid a break?”

“It looks like I’m outvoted.” She lifted a hand to his cheek.

“Is that a yes?”

“That’s definitely a yes.” She laughed as he swung her into his arms. “Daddy.”

“I like the sound of that.” He crushed his lips down on hers. “I like it a lot.”

Impulse

Chapter 1

She knew it was crazy. That was what she liked best about it. It was crazy, ridiculous, impractical and totally out of character. And she was having the time of her life. From the balcony of her hotel suite Rebecca could see the sweep of the beach, the glorious blue of the Ionian Sea, blushed now with streaks of rose from the setting sun.

Corfu. Even the name sounded mysterious, exciting, glamorous. And she was here, really here. Practical, steady-as-a-rock Rebecca Malone, who had never traveled more than five hundred miles from Philadelphia, was in Greece. Not just in Greece, she thought with a grin, but on the exotic island of Corfu, in one of the most exclusive resorts in Europe.

First-class, she thought as she leaned out to let the sweet breeze ruffle over her face. As long as it lasted, she was going first-class.

Her boss had thought she was suffering from temporary insanity. Edwin McDowell of McDowell, Jableki and Kline was never going to understand why a promising young CPA would resign from her position with one of the top accounting firms in Philadelphia. She’d made a good salary, she’d enjoyed excellent benefits and she’d even had a small window in her office.

Friends and associates had wondered if she’d suffered a breakdown. After all, it wasn’t normal, and it certainly wasn’t Rebecca’s style to quit a solid, well-paying job without the promise of a better one.

But she’d given her two weeks’ notice, cleared out her desk and had cheerfully walked out into the world of the unemployed.

When she’d sold her condo and then in one frantic week, auctioned off every possession she owned—every stick of furniture, every pot and pan and appliance—they’d been certain she’d gone over the edge.

Rebecca had never felt saner.

She owned nothing that didn’t fit in a suitcase. She no longer had any tax-deferred investments or retirement plans. She’d cashed in her certificates of deposit, and the home entertainment center she’d thought she couldn’t live without was now gracing someone else’s home.

It had been more than six weeks since she’d even looked at a calculator.

For the first—and perhaps the only—time in her life, she was totally free. There were no responsibilities, no pressures, no hurried gulps of cold coffee. She hadn’t packed an alarm clock. She no longer owned one. Crazy? No. Rebecca shook her head and laughed into the breeze. For as long as it lasted, she was going to grab life with both hands and see what it had to offer.

Aunt Jeannie’s death had been her turning point. It had come so suddenly, so unexpectedly, leaving Rebecca without any family. Aunt Jeannie had worked hard for most of her sixty-five years, always punctual, always responsible. Her position as head librarian had been her whole life. She’d never missed a day, never failed to do her duty. Her bills had been paid on time. Her promises had always been kept.

More than once Rebecca had been told she took after her mother’s older sister. She was twenty-four, but she was—had been—as solid and sturdy as her maiden aunt. Two months into retirement, two months after dear Aunt Jeannie began to make plans to travel, to enjoy the rewards she’d worked so hard to earn, she was gone.

After Rebecca’s grief had come the anger, then the frustration, then slowly, the realization that she was traveling the same straight road. She worked, she slept, she fixed well-balanced meals that she ate alone. She had a small circle of friends who knew she could be counted on in a crisis. Rebecca would always find the best and most practical answer. Rebecca would never drop her own problems in your lap—because she didn’t have any. Rebecca, bless her, was a port in any storm.