Unless he did. Unless she really was as boring as his tone made her sound. Her whole life she’d followed a set plan, hadn’t she? Never a misstep. Of course, it meant she hadn’t made many mistakes. But she’d never taken any risks, either. Regret didn’t just happen because of what a person had done; it could come from what they hadn’t done, too.
“What does sound like me?” she asked carefully.
He shrugged and took a drink of his whiskey. “I don’t know. Work. You work a lot and when you’re not working you’re doing things that are associated with work.”
“Like tonight?” she asked, a bit sharply, and noticed the teasing look in his eyes dimmed.
“I didn’t ask you here as my lawyer. I asked you as a friend.”
“I know.” She sighed. “I’m sorry I’m so snippy.” It really wasn’t him she was annoyed with. He’d struck a nerve. She did work too much and didn’t cut loose often. Huh. Scratch often. Try never.
Nope. Molly Quinn did exactly what was expected of her, right on time and by the rules. After her brother’s death at a young age, it had fallen to Molly to wave the family banner, and she’d done it with pride. Valedictorian of her high-school class. Full scholarship for her undergrad and a degree at Harvard Law—naturally—to make her parents proud. And then, also as expected, she’d joined the family firm. She was now a full partner at the ripe old age of twenty-nine, in Quinn, Colton and Quinn, the premier family-law practice on the East Coast, outside of New York. The Colton was honorary now, as her father’s partner had retired two years ago. At nearly thirty, she’d dissolved dozens of marriages without ever having been married herself.
She’d been close, once. She hadn’t been willing to become anyone’s accessory. She’d worked too hard. She’d wanted...more.
So Molly lived a very nice life. A very nice, insular, boring, sheltered life doing exactly what was expected on the appropriate time line.
“Are you thinking of bidding?”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.” She hesitated. “Maybe.”
“Well, you could always start the bid on this one and then it might prompt someone else to step up and get the ball rolling. The higher the bid, the better for the rehab center.”
He made a good point, so she looked at the itinerary again and bid a bit lower than the trip’s worth. What the heck.
Thirty minutes later, they sat down to dinner. Ryan was a prominent vascular surgeon, and the table was filled with several of his colleagues and their spouses or dates. Molly smiled and spoke at the appropriate times, but much of the conversation eluded her and her mind kept darting back to the Vancouver Island adventure. What would it be like to do such a crazy thing? She’d never been particularly athletic, and she’d certainly never left on a whim to do something so impulsive. But just because she never had didn’t mean she couldn’t.
Dinner was delicious, the seafood fresh and the vegetables locally sourced. The music was lovely, conversation was witty and sophisticated, and Molly was bored out of her mind. With her mother’s caution still ringing in her head, she refused dessert, some sort of terrine that looked divine and probably contained a zillion calories. When plates were cleared she was mad at herself. Why shouldn’t she have dessert if she wanted? Why did she always have to deprive herself? It certainly didn’t make her a better person.
That was it, she realized. Following the rules, following the path that had been laid out before her, hadn’t made her a good person. The truth was, she didn’t really know who she was, other than a good lawyer. She felt sad about that for a few moments, and then she set her jaw.
The only person who could change that was her. And maybe it would take getting away and going out of her comfort zone to really discover who Molly Quinn was and what she wanted.
She excused herself and went back to the silent-auction offerings again. At the Island Outdoor Adventures table, she hesitated and looked at the bidding sheet. Two other bids were there, and disappointment rushed through her.
Screw it, she said to herself and reached for a pen. She hastily scribbled a new bid. She wanted this now. Wanted to run away and have her own personal-revelation moment. Just because she’d never done those things didn’t mean she couldn’t; that was why they were bucket-list items. And just because they’d never been on her personal bucket list didn’t mean they weren’t once-in-a-lifetime experiences. Maybe she wouldn’t Eat, Pray, Love her way to enlightenment, but a change of scenery and a challenge might be exactly what she needed to gain some personal clarity.
As the evening progressed, she made her way back to the table again and again and upped the bid. At one point she wondered if it was going too far and cringed at how much of a hit her savings account would take if she won. Then her competitive streak would pop up again and she’d write down her next bid.
The evening’s emcee announced the final ten minutes of bidding. A man who looked to be in his midthirties stepped up and raised an eyebrow as he read her latest entry, then picked up a pen and scribbled something down. Not to be outdone, she went right behind him and raised the bid by two thousand. Her heart pounded as she returned to Ryan’s side. The bids were now sitting at twice what the entire trip was worth.
She checked her watch.
Mystery man met her gaze and quirked his eyebrow again. He was handsome, she acknowledged, with thick dark hair and chocolaty eyes that warmed as a hint of a smile tipped his lips, a challenge if she ever saw one. She gave a nonchalant smile and a shrug, as if to say, “Whatever.” There were six minutes left.
He walked over to the table. A smile played over his lips as he saw her entry. And then he upped the bid again.
He stepped back, smiled broadly and walked off.
She was dying to know what he’d written down, but she was already in too deep to make any rash moves or give him the opportunity to outbid her again. She shrugged, then turned to Ryan and made small talk with their host, Kit Merchant, as the seconds ticked down in her head. Kit had arrived late and was regaling them with sailing stories. Molly listened with half an ear, the other part of her brain busy ticking away the moments until she could make her move.
When there were just thirty seconds left by her count, she sauntered over to the table, wrote her name, looked at his bid, took a deep breath and wrote a new number only one hundred dollars greater than his final bid. She put down the pen and turned around. He was about to step forward when the emcee called, “Bidding is now over. No more bids will be accepted.”
She’d won.
Copyright © 2019 by Donna Alward
ISBN-13: 9781488043727
The Prince’s Forbidden Bride
First North American publication 2019
Copyright © 2019 by Rebecca Winters
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor, Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
r />
Rebecca Winters, The Prince's Forbidden Bride (The Princess Brides Book 2)
The Prince's Forbidden Bride (The Princess Brides Book 2) Page 16
