Biting her lip, she waved at Viv, her waitress, across the room. The kind-eyed woman dropped a check at another table and hustled over even faster than usual. “What’s up, hon?” she asked. “Is he a no-show?”
“No, I think he’s going to show,” Yasmin said, casting a glance at the sidewalk outside, but still catching no sign of a tall, dark, double-PhD-holding man in his early thirties. “But I have to hit the ladies. If he comes in, can you let him know I’ll be right back?”
“Will do,” Viv said. “And this table is yours for as long as you need it. I already made sure everyone knows the corner is reserved for the morning.”
“Thank you so much,” Yasmin said, sliding out of the booth.
“No worries.” Viv reached out, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. “I’m rooting for you, babe. I think it’s great that you’re going for this, making the kind of life and family you want, no matter what anyone else has to say about it.”
Yasmin’s smile puckered in the middle. “Yeah, well, assuming everything goes as planned, I may have to bring some of my mom’s friends in here for a chat. Apparently, a couple members of her book club think I’m crazy.”
Viv laughed. “Well, you know what I always say: You aren’t living life to the fullest if someone doesn’t think you’re crazy.”
“I would laugh,” Yasmin said, hedging toward the restrooms. “But I have to pee too bad.”
Viv laughed harder. “Go, girl. I got this. And I’ll get you a refill on your coffee.”
“Bless you,” Yasmin said, bolting toward the back of the diner.
She was in the ladies’ for maybe three minutes—five, tops—but when she emerged from the bathroom, shaking her hands lightly at her sides because the dispenser was out of paper towels, her wait had ended. There he was, sitting at the corner table with his hands folded and a pensive expression on his face, Mr. Super Smarty with his super squirmy sperm that the doctor had assured her made her chances of getting pregnant the first time around very good.
And he was every bit as handsome and tall and intelligent-looking as she’d been promised.
He was also familiar. Very familiar.
Cursing beneath her breath, Yasmin ducked back into the bathroom hallway, out of sight, her heart pounding as her mind raced, making the connections. It made sense now. His e-mail was TheArkIsAMyth because his name was Noah. Noah O’Sullivan, Bruce’s sexy cousin who was apparently every bit as smart and accomplished as the other O’Sullivan in town.
Her knight in faded blue jeans with the dancing dark brown eyes and the butt that wouldn’t quit, who she had been looking forward to decompressing with tonight, was the reason for her stressful morning.
And you’re the reason for his crazy morning.
Crazy, Yasmin, that’s the word he used.
There’s no way he’s going to say yes and your date night just went down in a blaze of ugly, black, sperm-sample-scented smoke.
She cursed again, gazing down at the simple brown tee shirt and khaki linen pants she’d chosen for this meeting. The voice of doom was probably right, and her outfit certainly wasn’t going to help her case any.
She was dressed to deliver meals on wheels to the elderly, not seduce a man into seeing her side of an argument. If she’d known Noah was the man she was meeting, she would have put on her flirty green sundress and peacock feather earrings. She hadn’t missed the way he’d looked at her yesterday. The man was interested, and she wasn’t above using that interest to get what she needed from him.
Might not be as hard as you think, girl.
Play your cards right and you can probably get what you need from Mr. O’Sullivan the old fashioned way. If you know what I’m saying…
The thought made her cheeks go hot.
Yasmin would be lying if she said she hadn’t entertained some late night fantasies about what it would be like to have Noah O’Sullivan’s big, strong hands sliding across her skin, his full lips warm against hers and his taste on her tongue, but that wasn’t going to happen. She didn’t want a baby daddy; she wanted a sperm donor who had no legal rights to her child.
She couldn’t be trusted to pick out a solid, steady, non-serial-killing boyfriend, let alone a father for her unborn baby. She needed Noah’s sperm with no strings attached, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t use all the tools at her disposal to get it.
There wasn’t time to run home, but her favorite secondhand clothing boutique filled with fabulous eclectic-chic outfits was just down the street. If she could sneak past Noah and out the door, she could run down the street, buy something seductively cute, yet still respectable-woman-who-should-be-trusted-to-raise-a-child to wear and be back in ten minutes. Fifteen tops. She would be a few minutes late to the meeting, but it would be worth it to know she was dressed for success.
Decision made, Yasmin leaned forward, letting her hair fall around her face as she crept slowly out of the bathroom hallway. She moved down the row of happily chatting, laughing diners at the back of the restaurant, deliberately avoiding the corner booth and aimed herself for the door, the clink of silverware and the hum of conversation covering her footsteps.
She had made it past the hostess stand and could practically taste the freedom of the sidewalk outside when a bright blue blob attacked from her left flank.
“Yasmin! So good to see you, sweetheart!” The blue blob—Mrs. Feeney, a member of her mother’s book club and proud participant in the Lonesome Point Sunshine Society, a group of citizens committed to spreading sunshine and good will around town—enfolded her in a soft, smothering hug so intense her feet left the ground. “So glad you’re back in town to stay!”
“Hi, Mrs. Feeney.” Yasmin grunted, fighting the urge to squirm free and make a run for the door. She couldn’t afford to cause a scene or attract Noah’s attention, and Mrs. Feeney would definitely cause a scene if Yasmin tried to escape without at least a few moments of friendly banter. “How are you? And Teensy?”
Teensy was Mrs. Feeney’s ancient Chihuahua, an adorable little white dog who suffered from Hanging Tongue syndrome and numerous other ailments her owner was always eager to share with anyone willing to listen.
“Teensy is as well as can be expected, but let’s talk about you, darling,” Mrs. Feeney said, surprising her. “What’s this I hear from your mother, about you raising a baby all alone?”
As Mrs. Feeney set her back on her feet, Yasmin mentally scrambled for the best way to put a quick end to this conversation. She couldn’t look over her shoulder to see if Noah was watching the exchange from across the restaurant—she couldn’t risk him seeing her face—but she sensed her luck was running out. She had to play to Feeney’s concerned citizen side and hope it would override her meddling one.
A glance behind the older woman revealed the long table on the right side of the restaurant was packed with people dressed in bright blue. The members of the Sunshine Society were out in force, fortifying themselves for a day of spreading love and good will throughout the community and Yasmin intended to use that to her advantage.
“I would love to talk about that sometime,” Yasmin said, pasting a smile on her face. “I’m sure you have some interesting thoughts about single parenthood, but I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t bring up some Sunshine Society business first. Did you know that the man with the reptile exhibit next to my mother’s petting zoo only had two paying customers yesterday? Two! And he went to all the trouble to put together such a nice selection of snakes and lizards and some giant toads that are a real thrill to look at.”