Page 37 of Love Bomb

She wondered if there was some sort of support group for all his women. Did they get together to discuss his sexual prowess over tea and cake? Did they have their own Facebook group? Was there a subsection for women who thought he’d knocked them up?

The man was more of a tomcat than Tom had ever been. He practically had a loyalty card for paternity tests—do nine, get one free. A guy like that could never want anything more than empty sex. And Rona didn’t do empty sex. Which was probably why she’d only ever had one boyfriend, and even then, she’d never quite trusted that he wouldn’t wake up one morning, decide he’d had enough or her, and just leave. Ironically, it was her fear that had made her dump him in the end. She’d thought it was best if she ended things before he left.

Yes. She was that screwed up.

But deep down, she wanted connection, commitment, and a love she could trust to be there in the morning.

Didn’t everyone?

And she wasn’t going to get that from Bain MacGregor.

Which meant she wasn’t going to go back to panting after him and looking at him through rose colored glasses. She knew exactly who he was, and he wasn’t commitment material.

Moving on.

Done now.

If only she hadn’t muddied their relationship with her lips. Talk about dumb moves. She’d been caught up in the moment and overwhelmed by gratitude and relief. Not to mention, she’d been exhausted, which didn’t exactly help with thinking straight. And now she had to deal with him being weird about it. Or worse, trying to finish what they’d started.

A tiny voice in the back of her head wondered if it would be so bad if they did finish what they’d started. After all, that kiss had been mind-blowing.

No.

She would not give into temptation.

She was a woman on a mission and now that she had Bain’s promise of help, she didn’t intend to do anything to screw up her plans.

Tom jumped up onto the bed beside her and meowed loudly.

“I don’t care how much you like him,” she told the cat. “I’m not sleeping with him.”

Tom meowed again.

“You say that now, but he won’t stay with us. He’s a one-night-stand kind of guy. He’d have his fun and move on. I know. I watched him do it often enough as a kid.”

His replying meow was woeful.

“You’ll get over him,” she told her cat as she stroked his long back. “The main thing is, he’s going to help us blow up the folly. Isn’t that good news?”

Tom wasn’t impressed. He flopped down on the bed beside her, and she dug her fingers into his thick fur. “I really screwed up this time, didn’t I?” she said. “You don’t think he’ll change his mind about helping me, do you?”

Tom Cat head-butted her hand until she patted him the way he liked, then he deigned to purr. Cats. They were almost as much trouble as men.

“No, he wouldn’t. You heard him,” she said. “He practically promised.”

Tom meowed. It sounded like agreement to her.

“I’ll go over later and sort this all out,” she told him. “Right now, I have to get some sleep.”

As though he understood every word she said, Tom flounced off in the direction of his pillow and curled up on top of it.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Bain had to sit through Mass to get to Father McMurtry. It felt like adding insult to injury. As well as disrupting his life, Rona had driven him back to church.

And he was exhausted. He hadn’t slept for well over twenty-four hours. He probably should have gone to bed instead of just changing his clothes before heading to church, but he was desperate for somebody, anybody, to help him make sense of what was happening.

To make matters worse, his church attendance had made his mother’s day. Not that he didn’t love her and want her to be happy. It was just that he’d never hear the end of it.