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Maternity Bride
Maureen Child
THE BRIDE HAS A SERIOUS CASE OF… PREGNANCY!The stick was blue - and positive! Any way she looked at it, Denise Torrance's well-ordered life was about to turn upside down… and all because of an unexpected night with the man of her dreams! But when that very man insisted they marry for their child's sake, Denise could only hope Mike Ryan would be the groom of her dreams, too… .There was no denying the passion that burned between them - her handsome new husband's desire for her hadn't cooled a bit. But dare Denise hope to win his heart?
He Had Never Planned On Being A Father. (#u418a7aa8-d6f9-5c06-acb8-06d28060d18e)Letter to Reader (#u74f16fba-f8fc-5b48-a6ce-9023686bd8b7)Title Page (#u6ddb0461-dd33-5890-9c7a-d0e781d16361)About the Author (#u2f10b3e8-c729-515f-92e5-d4dd7b298c27)Chapter One (#u87195f03-10df-5e32-b8df-72f5b7c2f9b3)Chapter Two (#u64eb1425-b443-544f-9f76-9aac00c9d90c)Chapter Three (#u139581d1-719c-5a68-9f23-ceedd15939dc)Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
He Had Never Planned On Being A Father.
But now that Mike was actually faced with the prospect of a child, it was different. Surprising as it was to admit, he had caught himself almost hoping there would be a baby. A girl maybe, with Denise’s blue eyes and blond hair.
Something inside him shifted painfully Was it the child he wanted...or was it her child that had suddenly become so important?
“We’ll know for sure tomorrow,” she said, “one way or the other.”
He nodded.
“But tonight, Mike,” she went on, “let’s forget about everything but us. I want one more night with you before we know. Before things change forever.”
Mike bit back a groan as an invisible hand tightened around his heart and squeezed. Her quiet words tore at him, leaving his insides open and unguarded.
“Kiss me, Mike.”
Dear Reader,
This month Silhouette Desire brings you six brand-new, emotional and sensual novels by some of the bestselling—and most beloved—authors in the romance genre. Cait London continues her hugely popular miniseries THE TALLCHIEFS with The Seduction of Fiona Tallchief, April’s MAN OF THE MONTH. Next, Elizabeth Bevarly concludes her BLAME IT ON BOB series with The Virgin and the Vagabond. And when a socialite confesses her virginity to a cowboy, she just might be Taken by a Texan, in Lass Small’s THE KEEPERS OF TEXAS miniseries.
Plus, we have Maureen Child’s Maternity Bride. The Cowboy and the Calendar Girl, the last in the OPPOSITES ATTRACT series by Nancy Martin, and Kathryn Taylor’s tale of domesticating an office-bound hunk in Taming the Tycoon
I hope you enjoy all six of Silhouette Desire’s selections this month—and every month!
Regards,
Senior Editor
Silhouette Books
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S. 3010 Walden Ave., PO Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O Box 609, Fort Ene, Ont. L2A 5X3
Maureen Child
Maternity Bride
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
MAUREEN CHILD
was born and raised in Southern California and is the only person she knows who longs for an occasional change of season. She is delighted to be writing for Silhouette and is especially excited to be a part of the Desire line.
An avid reader, she looks forward to those rare, rainy California days when she can curl up and sink into a good book. Or two. When she isn’t busy writing, she and her husband of twenty-five years like to travel, leaving their two grown children in charge of the neurotic golden retriever who is the real head of the household. She is also an award-winning historical writer under the names Kathleen Kane and Ann Carberry.
One
“Just stick it in, dummy,” Denise Torrance whispered to herself and scraped the key across the doorknob plate again. The darkness in the hallway pushed at her. She glanced uneasily over her shoulder and wondered why a simple power outage could make her feel as if she were stuck in a fifties horror movie. For heaven’s sake. She knew these offices better than she knew her own apartment. There were no monsters lurking in the shadows waiting to pounce.
“Ah.” She sighed in satisfaction as the stubborn key finally slipped into the lock. Pushing her purse strap higher on her shoulder, she shoved the oversize bag out of her way, turned the key and stepped into the darkened office.
Automatically, her right hand went to the switch plate. She tried each of the two switches with no success. “Perfect,” she said into the black stillness. “Apparently, no one is in a hurry to get the power turned back on.”
But then, if she had collected the files from Patrick’s office a bit earlier, she’d have been gone long before the lights went out and she wouldn’t be standing there in the dark talking to herself.
“Ten o’clock at night,” she muttered. “What kind of idiot works until ten o’clock when they could be home in a hot bath?”
“Just you and me, I guess.” A deep voice rumbled out of the darkness.
Her heart shot into her throat.
“And honey,” the voice added, “that bath sounds real good.”
She choked her heart back into her chest and whirled around, her gaze sweeping across the shadowy corners of the room. Instinctively, Denise backed up, and wished she was wearing her running shoes instead of the three-inch heels wobbling beneath her. Her sharp eyes strained to find the intruder at the same time her mind screamed at her to run like hell.
Then he stepped closer, passing across a splash of moonlight shining through a window before disappearing into the darkness again. Still, she’d been able to see him. Not his face of course, but enough to know he was big.
And standing between her and the door.
Okay fine, she told herself. No escape there. They were on the third floor, so jumping out the window was quickly dismissed, as well. Think, Denise, think. Frantically, she tried to remember the self-defense lessons she’d taken the year before. Something about step into the attacker and throw him over your shoulder?
Yeah, right.
She took another step back, bumped into a chair and staggered. One of her heels snapped off and she dropped into a tilted stance. “Stay back,” she warned, in her best I-am-a-trained-killer voice. “I’m warning you. ...”
“Take it easy, lady,” that voice came again as the man took a step closer.
“I’ll scream.” An empty threat. Her mouth and throat were so dry, it was a wonder she could issue these whispery warnings, let alone, scream.
“Oh, for...” He sounded disgusted.
She hobbled backward, listing dangerously to one side. Why couldn’t she think? Why couldn’t she remember something that she’d learned from that overpriced instructor? It was just as she’d always feared. When faced with a real attacker, her mind had gone blank.
Her purse swung around with her jerky movements and slapped her in the abdomen. She grunted with the impact.
“You okay?”
“Hah!” A concerned maniac! Oh God, she was hyperventilating.
“Look lady, if you’d only stand still for a second...”
“I won’t make it easy on you,” she countered and went into a wild series of bobs and weaves. Her broken heel actually helped in the endeavor. She banged her hip on the corner of Patrick’s desk and promised herself that if this madman killed her, she would haunt Patrick Ryan for the rest of his life.
Some friend he is, she thought hysterically. Taking a vacation so that she would be forced to go into his office and get the files her father wanted for tomorrow afternoon’s meeting. If she survived this, maybe she would have her father fire good ol’ Patrick.
“Dammit, woman!” The huge man in black sounded angry. Swell.
She started singing to herself. Well, not really singing, more of a low pitched keening, really. Anything to make enough noise that she didn’t have to hear the man’s voice as he taunted her. Denise took another few steps, then stopped cold as her purse strap snagged on the corner of the desk. Her breath caught, she leaned forward to free herself and at the same time...miraculously, an actual thought occurred to her.
Hurriedly, she dug into her purse. She couldn’t see well in the dark. She had to depend on her fingers finding just what she needed. Blindly, she began tossing item after item out of her bag and onto the floor.
“Come on now,” he urged and came much too close. “If you’ll just relax, we can straighten all of this out.”
Oh, sure. Relax. There’s an idea!
Her breath staggering, her heart beating wildly enough to explode from her chest, Denise’s fingers closed around the can she had been fumbling for. Triumphantly, she yanked it free of the leather purse, held it up and pointed it—hopefully—at the intruder. Just in case though, she closed her eyes and turned her head away as she pushed the aerosol button.
“Damn it!” he shouted and lunged at her.
A squeak of protest squeezed past her throat.
He slapped the can out of her grip and his momentum carried her down to the floor with him. They hit hard, but he had twisted them both around until he took most of the jarring blow. Immediately then, he rolled her beneath him. He lay across her, pinning her down with his imposing size and weight.
Helplessly, Denise heard her can of pepper spray hit the plank floor and roll into the far corner. She inhaled sharply, hoping for a good, long scream, then felt a large, very strong hand clamp down hard on her mouth.
The mingled scents of Old Spice, tobacco and what smelled like motor oil surrounded her.
“Take it easy, will ya?” he said angrily.
Yeah, that’s what she would do, she thought frantically as she fought to draw a shallow breath into her straining lungs. Take it easy. Simple enough for him to say. His body lay full-length atop hers. She felt his belt buckle digging into her stomach and the hard muscular strength of his thighs pressing her legs down.
Why hadn’t she gone home when everyone else in the building had?
Her mind raced with questions she didn’t really want the answers to. What was he doing in Patrick’s office? This was an accounting firm for heaven’s sake. There was no money to steal. And what was he going to do to her? God, she suddenly remembered every horrifying newspaper article she’d ever read about the rising crime rate.
And now she was going to end up as nothing more than a grainy photograph beside a short sad story on page five.
Even as she thought it, her captor eased slightly to one side of her. Still keeping one of his legs tossed across hers, he captured both of her hands in one of his and held them tightly. As he shifted position, he moved into a patch of moonlight.
Denise closed her eyes and told herself not to look. If she couldn’t identify him, maybe he would leave her alone. But somehow, her eyes opened into slits and her gaze drifted to his features anyway.
She gasped and felt a bit of her fear slip away.
He had the nerve to grin at her.
Surprise battled with temper. What was going on here, anyway? Except for his too long hair, a week’s worth of stubble on his cheeks and the black leather jacket he was wearing, her intruder looked an awful lot like Patrick Ryan. In fact, she thought with a growing sense of disgust, enough like him to be his...twin.
“Finally,” he said and nodded at her. “If you hadn’t been so damned eager to spray pepper into my face, I could have introduced myself a while ago.”
“You’re—”
“Mike Ryan.”
“Patrick’s twin,” she said and tried to twist out of his steely grasp.
“Actually,” he countered with a crooked smile, “I prefer to think of Patrick as my twin.”
Dammit, she thought. Why was Patrick’s brother loitering around his office?
“How did you get in here?” she demanded.
“Security let me in.”
“Great. Why were you standing around in a pitch dark office?”
He snorted a laugh. “The power went out. Remember?”
“Well, you might have said something,” she snapped and tried once more to yank free of him. Again, she failed. For some reason, he seemed reluctant to let her go just yet.
“You didn’t give me much of a chance.”
“There was plenty of time to yell, ‘Don’t have a heart attack, I’m Patrick’s brother’,” she countered. Her heartbeat slowed from its trip-hammer pace as she added, “Or do you enjoy scaring women?”
He scowled briefly. “There are lots of things I enjoy doing with women,” he told her in a voice so deep and rough it scraped along her spine. “Fear has nothing to do with any of them.”
She swallowed and found her mouth dry again.
“So,” he went on and dragged the palm of one hand over the curve of her hip. “We both know who I am. Who the hell are you? Does Patrick have a girlfriend I don’t know about?”
Denise fought to ignore the sensation of wicked heat that trailed in the wake of his hand.
“Maybe,” she countered thickly. “But if he does, it isn’t me.”
“Glad to hear it,” he murmured.
She shifted slightly, trying to move away from his disconcerting touch. He followed her.
“Name?” he asked.
“Denise Torrance.” She gritted her teeth and redoubled her efforts to get at least one of her hands free. “This is the Torrance Accounting firm. Patrick works for my father. I needed to pick up some of his files... Why am I explaining any of this to you?”
He shrugged. “Beats me. Am I supposed to believe any of it?”
She drew her head back and glared at him. “Frankly, I don’t care if you believe me or not. But, why would I lie?”
He shrugged again and let that wandering palm of his slide across her abdomen. Her stomach muscles clenched. Deep inside her, a curl of something dangerous began to unwind.
As if he could read her mind, a deep-throated chuckle rumbled up from his chest.
