Hannah Bernard - The Dating Resolution

Hailey didn’t even manage to draw a breath of relief before his hand dived deeper into her hair, cupping the back of her head, his thumb stroking her scalp. Goose bumps streaked down her back and up again, making her breath catch as she met his eyes. “But maybe I don’t,” he continued. “Maybe it’s just you.”

“This is not a good idea,” she stammered. “Definitely, absolutely, positively not. In fact, it’s a bad idea. A rotten idea.”

“It’s the best idea I’ve had all year.”

“You know there’s no point. It can’t go anywhere. Too complicated…”

“We’re not getting married,” Jordan murmured. Oh, Lord. He was kissing her jaw, close to her ear, his bristly cheek rubbing hers, and her goose bumps got goose bumps. “We’re just going to kiss.”

Hannah Bernard always knew what she wanted to be when she grew up—a psychologist. After spending an eternity in university, studying towards that goal, she took one look at her hard-earned diploma and thought: Nah. I’d rather be a writer. She has no kids to brag about, no pets to complain about, and only one husband, who any day now will break down and agree to adopt a kitten.

HARLEQUIN ROMANCE®

3762—BABY CHASE

3774—THEIR ACCIDENTAL BABY

3792—MISSION: MARRIAGE

3814—THE HONEYMOON PROPOSAL

www.millsandboon.co.uk

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

BREATHING in the familiar scent of chalk, Hailey squirmed into the small seat behind the dwarfish desk and faced her friend from the perspective of a nine-year-old. “I’d like to make a statement,” she announced.

“I’m holding my breath,” Ellen managed to say around the pen between her teeth. She pulled a thermos out of her briefcase and filled the yellow plastic cup. “Why can’t thermoses ever keep coffee warm more than a couple of hours?” she complained with a grimace after spitting out the pen and taking a sip. “Someone should do something about that.”

“This is an important announcement. Put down your coffee and pay attention.”

“Sounds serious. Is it about your New Year’s resolutions?”

“Of course. What else would it be this time of year?”

Ellen made a show of pushing her coffee away and leaning back in her seat. “Well, let me hear it.”

Hailey sat up straight, preparing for her dramatic declaration. “No more men!” she called out, emphasizing it with a sweeping hand gesture.

“Uh-huh,” Ellen said, returning her attention to the pile of paper in front of her. “Right. And you’re going cold turkey on chocolate too, aren’t you?”

“Well—”

“…and doing daily sit-ups?”

“Well—”

“And getting up earlier on weekends?”

Hailey frowned. This was the annoying thing about friends. They knew you too well. “This time, I mean it. Seriously. And for more than two weeks.”

“I see. Why? Must be pretty urgent since you invaded my classroom to tell me.”

Hailey glanced around the third grade classroom, empty of children, but not of children’s presence. Classrooms never were. “At least I waited until the kids were gone. Although,” she added darkly, “if someone had told me the truth about men at an early age, I could have joined a convent straight out of high school and saved myself a lot of misery.”

“You mean you hadn’t already figured boys out by third grade?”

“Nope, stars in my eyes until I was nineteen or so. I guess I was a late developer. Hence all the scars on my heart.”

“Aw, Hailey.” Ellen made a sympathetic sound, but her pen did not pause on the paper she was scribbling on. “Why are you really here?”

“No other reason! I just wanted you to be the first to know. Especially as you’re always dragging guys in my direction.”

“No more men, huh?”

“No more men. As in, you’re not allowed to set me up, introduce me to guys, or in other ways work against my resolution.”

“I see. And are you—in principle—swearing off men for good?”

“Well, no,” Hailey admitted. “I haven’t entirely lost my faith in half of the human race. Not yet.”

“Phew.”

“It’s me. I’ve been making so many mistakes when it comes to guys. So, I’m taking a year out.”

“A year?”

“Yep.”

“A whole year?”

“Yes.”

Ellen put down her pen and leaned forward. “Hailey, do you have any idea how long a year is?”

“Three hundred and sixty-five days. And don’t make me calculate the hours. I’m lousy at multiplication.”

“An entire year?”

“Yep. One year. No men. No dates. Nothing. I’m going to pretend the other sex doesn’t exist.”

Ellen tossed a finished sheet to the side and grabbed the next one. “And—assuming that there is a problem in the first place—how’s a year out going to solve anything? You’ll be in exactly the same situation after a year has passed.”

Hailey tried to get comfortable, but in a chair that size, it was close to impossible. Someone had scribbled a swearword in crayon on the desk, and she rubbed at it with a finger, although she could well echo the sentiment. Maybe third-graders got their hearts trampled on too. “No, I won’t. That’s the whole point. Think, Ellen. What do our lives revolve around?”

Ellen pushed her glasses up above her forehead, displaying the tiny wrinkles between her eyes as she pondered the question. “Do you mean practically or philosophically?”

“It’s not a trick question.”

“I don’t trust you. With you, everything’s a trick question.”

“It’s simple. What is the one thing we’re always thinking about, always talking about?”

“Is this one of your veiled ‘What’s the meaning of life?’ questions?”

“Guys! That’s what our life revolves around. Even most of our conversations revolve around guys.” Hailey banged her fist on the table in emphasis. “I am sick of spending my life sifting through men in search for an elusive—perhaps even mythological—nugget of gold.”

Ellen grinned, gesturing with a pencil. “Well, you’ve got to admit, sifting can be fun even if you don’t always strike gold.”

Hailey stared over Ellen’s shoulder at the chalk-board behind her. “Imagine—all those gold prospectors back then. Spending years, decades, their entire lives, hoping to strike a treasure, sacrificing everything else—home, family. All most of them ever got was disappointment, pain, sweat and tears. Even those few who thought they’d been lucky—so often it turned out to be fool’s gold.”

Ellen returned her attention to third-grade spelling problems. “It takes an IQ higher than mine to follow your analogies, Hailey, but I’m pretty sure you’re being depressing again.”

Hailey shook her head. “My point is, why are we doing this?”

Ellen got that annoying dreamy look on her face. “I know the answer to this one. Because true love is somewhere out there waiting for us—only it’s a bit hard to find.”

“No. True love is society’s myth. Don’t you see? We’re being sucked into a global lie.”

“I see.” Ellen sounded rather unconvinced. “Love is a worldwide conspiracy. Are aliens involved?”