Kids Included. Caroline AndersonЧитать онлайн книгу.
“Idiot,” Jack muttered
Nicky tipped her head back and peered up at him from the toddler seat in the trolley.
“Not idiot,” the young girl protested indignantly.
“Not you, darling, me. I’ve forgotten something,” he explained, and with a sigh he shoved the trolley around the corner, nearly crashing into someone. Someone small and blond and—
“Molly?”
She froze, then turned in slow motion. Her eyes were wide and wary and beautiful, and her lips were working slightly. He had an insane urge to kiss them….
Caroline Anderson has the mind of a butterfly. She’s been a nurse, a secretary, a teacher, she once ran her own soft furnishing business, and she has now settled on writing. She says, “I was looking for that elusive something. I finally realized it was variety, and now I have it in abundance. Every book brings new horizons and new friends, and in between books I have learned to be a juggler. My teacher husband, John, and I have umpteen pets, two horse-mad daughters—Sarah and Hannah—and several acres of Suffolk, a county in England, that nature tries to reclaim every time we turn our backs!”
Kids Included!
Caroline Anderson
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
‘ABRACADABRA!’
The coins vanished from one hand and reappeared magically in the other, to the amazement of the children sitting cross-legged in front of her, watching her every move with wide-eyed anticipation…
At least, that was the theory.
In practice, the coins fell out of her hand, rolled across the floor and wobbled to a halt just in front of the first row of straight-faced and sceptical little monsters. They laughed and scrabbled for the coins, the magic hopelessly blown away, and Molly sighed.
Darn Sandy and her wretched wrist—
She dredged up a smile.
‘Ah. Well, how about this trick?’ she suggested, and waved Sandy’s wand again. Her fingers disappeared up her sleeve, hunted around for a moment, then came out with a stream of brightly coloured handkerchiefs.
In theory.
She looked at the single yellow square in disgust. Obviously her knots left something to be desired…
She rootled around in her sleeve again for the rest of the colourful string, and the children tittered and giggled and nudged each other. In the back corner a man sat, watching her steadily as she poked about for the elusive end. He was the host—Jack something. Hallam? Haddon? He would have made a good poker player, she thought crossly as she rummaged. Totally po-faced, he was the man who, if she pulled this off, would pay her for her services.
Hah. The only thing she was going to pull off was the lining of the jacket, and as for being paid for this fiasco—!
Molly’s face flamed, but she persevered, and they began to laugh louder. ‘I know they’re up here somewhere,’ she muttered, and the laugh grew to a crescendo. The man was still watching her intently. His mouth twitched, and she could have hit him, or strangled him with the brightly coloured silk squares—if she ever found them.
She could feel them tugging over her shoulder, so she stuck her hand down the back of her neck and pulled, and, yes! Out they came!
The children roared their approval, laughing and clapping, and to her astonishment Molly realised that they were enjoying it. They thought—bless their little cotton socks—that she meant to camp it up! And the man with the money was laughing, too!
Thank God for small mercies, she thought wildly, and plunged on with the act.
Everything went wrong. She didn’t mean it to, but she didn’t really have to try. Sandy made it look so easy—just wait till she caught up with her!
‘Help me out—my wrist is so bad I can’t possibly do the tricks—’
Well, Sandy wasn’t the only one who couldn’t possibly do the tricks, but at least the children seemed to be on her side now. The rings steadfastly refused to come apart, the disappearing balls under the cups kept appearing again, the card trick ended with cards scattering like confetti—and through it all they laughed like little drains.
Only one more trick to go, and that was sure to get them all going. She set the top hat on the table, flicked the catch and put her hand in. Yes, she could feel it; she had its little silky ears—
‘Ouch!’
She leapt back, the hat and table went flying, and the star of the grand finale headed off across the floor of the hotel function room at a flat-out hop.
Molly, sucking her bitten finger, swore silently and violently for a moment, then, hitching up Sandy’s baggy magician’s pants, she squeezed and wriggled her way through the crowd after Flopsy.
The children were all scampering about chasing the rabbit, and Molly saw it make a run for it towards the corner with That Man. If she headed it off—
She leapt over a table, scooted across the room and dropped to her knees, skidding the last two yards into the corner. Arms outstretched for the rabbit, she dived after it as it headed for the safety of his chair.
Almost—
She stretched out her hands, toppled forwards and grabbed, and ended up with her hands fastened firmly round the rabbit—and her shoulder propped against his thigh. His firm thigh. Oh, help.
Victorious, and not a little flustered, she sat back on her heels and smiled up at him witlessly. Her hair was on end, her cheeks were flushed and she was laughing. So was he—except she had the distinct and uncomfortable feeling he was laughing at her.
The rabbit wriggled, and she dived forwards again. She wasn’t letting go of that damn rabbit for anyone. Just another inch—
She lost her balance, what little was left of it, and slowly, like an action replay on the television, she toppled over and ended up face-down in his jeans-clad and very masculine lap. Heat scalded her cheeks, and she wriggled backwards, digging