Jen Safrey - A Little Change Of Plans

She recovered from her surprise quickly. “I expect it to be part of the ceremony.”

“I mean, let’s do it now.”

“What?”

“Molly,” Adam said, urgency rising from his core. “I don’t want our first kiss to be in front of an audience. Even a small select audience. It wouldn’t—it won’t be right. Besides, it will take the pressure off the actual moment, right?”

Molly stilled. “Well—all right.”

Adam stepped over to his best friend—his bride-to-be. He lifted his hands and brushed her hair off her shoulders.

He’d dated a lot of women, kissed the majority of them, at the very least. But he hadn’t had any idea that he compared any of them to Molly until this moment, when she stood before him. And that’s when he knew—he was in big, big trouble.

Dear Reader,

In writing A Little Change Of Plans, I had to throw the hero and the heroine for a big loop. They thought they had their futures figured out long ago.

Uh-huh. Well, life may be about a lot of things, but I don’t think it’s ever about certainty.

As soon as I met Molly and Adam, I decided they would each have to let go of their illusion of what they thought they always wanted if they were to find real and lasting love and happiness. (And because I’m their author, what I say goes!)

I really hope these characters inspire you the way they inspired me, to live with an open heart and embrace all the surprising possibilities that inevitably appear.

All the best,

Jen Safrey

www.millsandboon.co.uk

is a back-to-back recipient of the 2004 and 2005 Golden Leaf Awards for Long Contemporary Romance. She’s steadily moving up the belt ranks in tae kwon do, although her back kicks still need some work. She’s also learning to cook (finally), so feel free to e-mail her your recipes—easy ones—through her Web site at www.jensafreybooks.com.

Motherhood is a path I chose not to travel,

so this book is dedicated to the brave women

in my life who did, and shared their adventures with

me—particularly my sister, Elizabeth Markman,

and, of course, my own terrific mom.

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

June 1992

“Molly, you have been an asset to Saint Cecilia’s Girls’ Academy. I guess this is the last time I’ll meet with you as your guidance counselor.”

Molly crossed her legs at the ankle and straightened her spine. Ms. Glass regarded her, and Molly basked in the pride reflected through the woman’s thick glasses.

“Now,” the administrator continued, “I know I don’t have to ask you if you’ve given serious thought to what you want to study next year. I have a little feeling you’ve been mulling it over since you were in pigtails.”

“I’m going to earn a bachelor’s degree, then an MBA, and then start my own business,” Molly said with a smile.

The smile was returned by the older woman, but in it Molly detected a jaded tinge.

Molly didn’t take it personally. She imagined plenty of Saint Cecilia’s alumni returned every year with careers and lives miles and miles off the fast track, so far from what they’d once envisioned for themselves at this elite private school.

She, Molly Jackson, would not be among them. When she returned—if, of course, she had time to make the trip back to California from New York between power lunches and business-class trips to Europe—she would be feted as a success, maybe even with a scholarship founded in her name….

“Remember your first day as a freshman, Molly?” Ms. Glass asked, interrupting her reverie. “When I first met you? You walked into this office wearing a lovely, smart pink blazer. The rest of the girls were in jeans.”

Molly nodded, not really recalling her wardrobe that particular day and now wondering what the point of this discussion was going to be.

“You marched in here, sat down in that same chair there, and said, ‘I’m going to earn my bachelor’s, then an MBA, then start my own business.’”

Molly waited. She probably did say that.

“You were so sure of yourself then,” Ms. Glass continued, “and even more sure of yourself now.”

“Excuse me,” Molly said, frowning, “but it sounds like you think that’s a bad thing.”

“It’s a wonderful thing,” Ms. Glass said. “I have no doubt you’ll go wherever you want to go and do whatever you want to do. But I give every student of mine a piece of advice to take into the real world, and here’s yours: Let life just happen to you once in a while, Molly.”

Molly pulled her chin in, taken aback.

“Things are different after high school,” Ms. Glass went on. “Life may not turn out the way you expect, and you need to be able to adjust, relax, go with the flow.”

Molly raised an eyebrow. “This sounds like the opposite of normal guidance counselor advice.”

“Normal guidance counselor advice has never been something you really needed, Molly. I’m giving you woman-to-woman advice. Be spontaneous at least once in a while. Maybe once a year? Have fun. Meet boys.”

Molly had given boys some thought over the last few years, and she didn’t want to tell Ms. Glass that it happened to be another area in which she was quite sure of herself and of what would happen.

Out there was a boy just like herself.

A boy who worked hard, who put achieving first. A boy whose parents taught him how to strive to be the best. A boy who participated in student government, band, mathletes and excelled in a varsity sport. Maybe track and field.

Molly was going to find that boy, the one who was destined to be the man for her. A driven, ambitious man, exactly like the woman she was about to be.

She’d find him, and he wouldn’t be hard to find. They’d be drawn to one another without effort, ready and able to support one another, work side by side forever in perfect synchronized partnership.

College started in three months. He could be anywhere.

Molly stood, smoothed out the wrinkles in her black pants the way she knew her mother did and put out her hand. “Thank you for everything, Ms. Glass. I’m proud to have attended this school, and I promise, I won’t let Saint Cecilia’s down.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Ms. Glass said, clasping Molly’s hand and looking deep into her eyes. “Just think about yourself. And be happy.”

June 1992

“Well, Adam, it’s that time for you. This will be our last meeting.”

“Yup.”

“So, I beg you, please tell me you’ve decided what you plan to study next year.”

Adam leaned back and eyed Mr. Fisher. His guidance counselor stared back at him with a stern expression that Adam was certain had to have been a course requirement for the man to earn his education degree. The thought of a roomful of men and women staring each other down, practicing and perfecting their faces for the final exam, made Adam grin.

“I’m glad you’re so unconcerned and amused,” Mr. Fisher said, sitting back in his chair and lacing his fingers together on the blotter in front of him. “I wouldn’t want you to be losing sleep over your unclear future.”

“I’m not, Mr. F.,” Adam said, pretending he didn’t understand the sarcasm so as not to prolong the argument.

Adam didn’t take it personally. It was Mr. Fisher’s job to make sure his students didn’t return to Grover Cleveland High School year after year and tell him about their miserable rat-race lives of drudgery and nine-to-five-plus-overtime.