A Match Made by Baby. Karen Rose Smith
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“Have you ever thought about a night with me, with no responsibilities, no agenda and no time restrictions?”
The idea of a night with Adam stopped Kaitlyn cold. She couldn’t even think straight. That was why she didn’t know what to say.
“Why didn’t you just call this morning? You could have given me this information over the phone or in an e-mail.”
Standing this close, she could still feel everything male about him—his scent, his strength, his determination. She said weakly, “I wanted to check on Erica.”
He narrowed his eyes and came so close, she could feel his breath on her cheek. “Tell the truth.”
She only hesitated a moment. “I like you.”
He broke into a grin. Then he kissed her—really, really hard. After he broke away, stared into her eyes for a moment, he kissed her again, this time with such coaxing passion, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
* * *
A Match Made by Baby
Karen Rose Smith
USA TODAY bestselling author KAREN ROSE SMITH’s plots are all about emotion. She began writing in her early teens, when she listened to music and created stories to accompany the songs. An only child, she spent a lot of time in her imagination and with books—Nancy Drew, Zane Grey, The Black Stallion and Anne of Green Gables. She dreamed of brothers and sisters and a big family such as the ones her mother and father came from. This is the root of her plotlines, which include small communities and family relationships as part of everyday living. Residing in Pennsylvania with her husband and three cats, she welcomes interaction with readers on Facebook, on Twitter, @karenrosesmith, and through her website, www.karenrosesmith.com, where they can sign up for her newsletter.
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To Suzanne—a terrific single mom and my BFF.
I’m grateful to have you in my life.
Contents
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
Why had she been on call for The Mommy Club today?
Kaitlyn Foster couldn’t imagine Adam Preston in this situation to begin with. His own words from a year ago played in her ears. I’m out of the country more than I’m in it.
So why could she hear a baby crying on the other side of the door?
He didn’t know she was the one coming to help.
Could there be two Adam Prestons in Fawn Grove, California? Hope sprung eternal. Maybe she wouldn’t be humiliated from the top of her blond head down to her white sandals.
The baby’s crying seemed to reach even higher decibels. Would he even hear the doorbell?
She pressed the button and held it down.
When Adam opened the door—and it was Adam—Kaitlyn found a very different Adam Preston this September morning than the debonair world traveler she’d met and almost made love with last year. This Adam’s thick dark brown hair was mussed, and worry lines creased his forehead. His polo shirt looked as if it had seen a baby hiccup or two. The baby on his shoulder, who was wailing at the top of her lungs, shook the image of the expensive-suited bachelor, whose kisses had almost convinced her to sleep with a man she didn’t know!
“Kaitlyn?” His intense green eyes were trying to absorb the fact she was standing at his door.
The Mommy Club was an organization that helped parents in need. “I was on call today—” She attempted to explain, but gave up and reached for the infant, who looked to be about two months old.
But instead of letting her take the baby, he took a step away. “I never imagined you worked with The Mommy Club.” He patted the baby’s back as if that would quiet her.
“A woman of many talents,” she joked, then wished she hadn’t. Adam really knew little about her except the fact she was a pediatrician. She knew little about him except for the fact that he didn’t date the same woman twice. After all, she had looked him up on Google. And found more than she’d wanted to know.
* * *
Adam had a sister who needed his help. What else could he do but give it?
He backed away from the beautiful doctor who’d made his blood race from the moment he’d met her almost a year ago. At a wine tasting, no less. Over the past year, he’d thought about