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Daddy Wanted
Kate Hoffmann
Isabella Trueblood made history reuniting people torn apart by war and an epidemic. Now, generations later, Lily and Dylan Garrett carry on her work with their agency, Finders Keepers. Circumstances may have changed, but the goal remains the same.LostHer reputation. P.I. Jennifer Rodriguez was pregnant. And no way could she tell her traditional family there was no daddy in sight for her child. But Jen herself wasn't born yesterday. She knew when to call in a favor.FoundA phony fiancé. After Jennifer had successfully tracked down Ryan Madison, he'd said to call if he could ever help her out. And now was the time. He just had to show up with her at her parents' place and pretend they were about to be married. Then he could disappear. It was no big deal. Except to lovestruck Ryan.
Isabella Trueblood made histor reuniting people torn apart by war and an epidemic. Now, generations later, Lily and Dylan Garrett carry on her work with their agency, Finders Keepers. Circumstances may have changed, but the goal remains the same.
Lost
Her reputation. P.I. Jennifer Rodriguez was pregnant. And no way could she tell her traditional family there was no daddy in sight for her child. But Jen herself wasn’t born yesterday. She knew when to call in a favor.
Found
A phony fiancé. After Jennifer had successfully tracked down Ryan Madison, he’d said to call if he could ever help her out. And now was the time. He just had to show up with her at her parents’ place and pretend they were about to be married. Then he could disappear. It was no big deal. Except to lovestruck Ryan.
Finders Keepers: bringing families together
“Jennifer has a bun in her oven,”
Teresa piped up, a gap-toothed smile splitting her eager face, her brown eyes sparkling.
Jennifer’s heart stopped and her jaw dropped. Orange juice, halfway down her throat, came back up with a cough and she pressed her napkin to her mouth, her eyes watering.
“Niña, we all know Jennifer is not so good in the kitchen,” Carmen said, ruffling her daughter’s hair.
“No, she is,” Teresa insisted. “I think she’s taking cooking lessons.”
“Teresa, shh!” Jennifer hissed, watching as the rest of the guests began to turn their attention toward her youngest sister.
Ryan handed the little girl a sweet roll, waving it in front of her face. “Have something to eat, Teresa. Aren’t you hungry?”
Teresa took the roll. “Jenny and Ryan were in the garden last night and she told him she had a bun in her oven. I was listening from my tree house.”
Carmen’s eyes were wide. “And what else did Jenny say?”
“She said she’s knocked up, too. And she’s going to have a baby.”
“Oh, God,” Jennifer murmured.
Dear Reader,
I’ve always welcomed the chance to add a little variety into my writing life, so when my editor at Harlequin asked me to contribute a book to the TRUEBLOOD, TEXAS series, I couldn’t refuse. In the nearly thirty books I’ve written for them, I’ve never set a book in Texas. And the chance to learn more about Mexican-American culture was an added bonus!
A chance inquiry at my local library put me in touch with Cristina Capatillo-Fischer. She graciously agreed to help me “get it right,” and we spent many mornings at the library discussing Mexican wedding traditions, quinceañera celebrations and dinner menus. It wasn’t long before this Wisconsin girl knew the proper time to serve corn tortillas versus flour.
I hope you enjoy the next installment of TRUEBLOOD, TEXAS. The story of Jennifer Rodriguez, Ryan Madison and the baby between them was so much fun to write. I hope it’s as much fun to read!
Happy reading,
Kate Hoffmann
Daddy Wanted
Kate Hoffman
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
The Trueblood Legacy
THE YEAR WAS 1918, and the Great War in Europe still raged, but Esau Porter was heading home to Texas.
The young sergeant arrived at his parents’ ranch northwest of San Antonio on a Sunday night, only the celebration didn’t go off as planned. Most of the townsfolk of Carmelita had come out to welcome Esau home, but when they saw the sorry condition of the boy, they gave their respects quickly and left.
The fever got so bad so fast that Mrs. Porter hardly knew what to do. By Monday night, before the doctor from San Antonio made it into town, Esau was dead.
The Porter family grieved. How could their son have survived the German peril, only to burn up and die in his own bed? It wasn’t much of a surprise when Mrs. Porter took to her bed on Wednesday. But it was a hell of a shock when half the residents of Carmelita came down with the horrible illness. House after house was hit by death, and all the townspeople could do was pray for salvation.
None came. By the end of the year, over one hundred souls had perished. The influenza virus took those in the prime of life, leaving behind an unprece-
dented number of orphans. And the virus knew no boundaries. By the time the threat had passed, more than thirty-seven million people had succumbed worldwide.
But in one house, there was still hope.
Isabella Trueblood had come to Carmelita in the late 1800s with her father, blacksmith Saul Trueblood, and her mother, Teresa Collier Trueblood. The family had traveled from Indiana, leaving their Quaker roots behind.
Young Isabella grew up to be an intelligent woman who had a gift for healing and storytelling. Her dreams centered on the boy next door, Foster Carter, the son of Chester and Grace.
Just before the bad times came in 1918, Foster asked Isabella to be his wife, and the future of the Carter spread was secured. It was a happy union, and the future looked bright for the young couple.
Two years later, not one of their relatives was alive. How the young couple had survived was a miracle. And during the epidemic, Isabella and Foster had
taken in more than twenty-two orphaned children from all over the county. They fed them, clothed them, taught them as if they were blood kin.
Then Isabella became pregnant, but there were complications. Love for her handsome son, Josiah, born in 1920, wasn’t enough to stop her from grow-ing weaker by the day. Knowing she couldn’t leave her husband to tend to all the children if she died, she set out to find families for each one of her orphaned charges.
And so the Trueblood Foundation was born. Named in memory of Isabella’s parents, it would become famous all over Texas. Some of the orphaned children went to strangers, but many were reunited with their families. After reading notices in newspapers and church bulletins, aunts, uncles, cousins and grand-parents rushed to Carmelita to find the young ones they’d given up for dead.
Toward the end of Isabella’s life, she’d brought together more than thirty families, and not just her orphans. Many others, old and young, made their way to her doorstep, and Isabella turned no one away.
At her death, the town’s name was changed to Trueblood, in her honor. For years to come, her simple grave was adorned with flowers on the anniversary of her death, grateful tokens of appreciation from the families she had brought together.
Isabella’s son, Josiah, grew into a fine rancher and married Rebecca Montgomery in 1938. They had a daughter, Elizabeth Trueblood Carter, in 1940. Elizabeth married her neighbor William Garrett in 1965, and gave birth to twins Lily and Dylan in 1971, and daughter Ashley a few years later. Home was the Double G ranch, about ten miles from Trueblood proper, and the Garrett children grew up listening to stories of their famous great-grandmother, Isabella. Because they were Truebloods, they knew that they, too, had a sacred duty to carry on the tradition passed down to them: finding lost souls and reuniting loved ones.
Kate Hoffmann is acknowledged
as the author of this work.
For Cristina, with thanks for your friendship
and all those mornings at Mead.
Contents
PROLOGUE (#u06141043-d86e-5fb9-bbc1-d5b953d65545)
CHAPTER ONE (#ucc79d584-2776-5d70-8c67-3e14c806d6b6)
CHAPTER TWO (#uab541351-fb25-55e8-892f-eeafeb8aca53)
CHAPTER THREE (#uafff0da8-7348-58cb-b22e-fd2313ddb413)
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)
PROLOGUE
“MR. MADISON? Are you all right?”
Ryan Madison heard her words, even registered the concern in her voice, but the strange buzzing in his head made it impossible to form a reply.
Was he all right? This morning, when he’d walked into the trailer at Number 59, he hadn’t really bothered to consider the question. On the whole, his life was going pretty damn well. He was almost twenty-seven years old, considered a decent-looking guy without any major dental problems or personality disorders. He owned a very successful business in Midland, Texas—Madison Drilling and Oil—and made a good living. They’d just opened their fifty-ninth well. And though he wasn’t happily married with two point four children and a dog, he came from what he thought was a loving, supportive family—until now.
“I know this must be startling news,” she said, her voice lilting slightly with just a hint of a Spanish accent. “And I’m sure it will take some time to sink in.”
His attention was fixed on her mouth and he watched her form each word, as if in slow motion. She had a beautiful mouth, a shapely upper lip, like a Cupid’s bow, complemented by a soft, full lower lip. She’d introduced herself when she’d walked into the trailer, but suddenly, he couldn’t remember her name. Jane? Janice? No, Jennifer. He drew a slow breath and focused his thoughts. That was it. Jennifer Rodriguez.
When his drilling foreman had shown her in, Ryan’s curiosity had been piqued. Beautiful women didn’t wander into his trailer every day, or every month for that matter. Beautiful women were in short supply in the oil fields of the Permian Basin. And there was no arguing that Jennifer Rodriguez was beautiful. A breath of fresh air in the hot, dusty oil fields of West Texas.
When she’d introduced herself as a private investigator, he’d nearly laughed out loud. P.I.s were supposed to be balding, middle-aged men with potbellies, cigar-stained teeth and a world-weary attitude. Jennifer Rodriguez wore a pretty flowered dress that skimmed her slender figure. Her long dark hair tumbled in messy waves around her shoulders and her eyes were so brown they were nearly black. Her skin, kissed golden by the sun, looked so soft he was tempted to reach out and touch her face. Without thinking, he raised his hand and—
“Mr. Madison, perhaps it might be best if I leave you to think about everything I said. I’ll just wait—”
“No!” Ryan replied. If she left he’d be forced to face a reality he wasn’t ready to acknowledge. As long as she was here, he could allow himself the safety of a fantasy or two when doubts overwhelmed his common sense. Reluctantly, he glanced down at the sheet of paper in his hand—a birth certificate. It didn’t look anything like the document he had seen when he applied for his first passport. “I don’t understand. This isn’t me. This baby was stillborn. Why would you think this is me?”
“I’m working for a man named Ben Mulholland,” she said. “He was born on October 23, 1974, outside Austin. That’s the birth certificate of his twin brother.”
“I was born on October 23, 1974 in Austin, at a hospital,” Ryan said numbly. “And I’m an only child.”
“I’m sure if you look at your birth certificate, you’ll see the same doctor’s signature, nearly the same time of birth. We think you’re Ben Mulholland’s twin brother.”
Ryan shook his head. “Wait a minute. First, you tell me I’m adopted, that my parents really aren’t my parents. And now you tell me I have a twin brother? This doesn’t make any sense.”
“The doctor who delivered you was a baby broker. When he delivered you to your adoptive parents, he gave them a forged birth certificate. I think if you check closely, you’ll see that the doctor couldn’t have been in two separate places delivering two different babies.”
He raked his fingers through his dusty hair. “I—I don’t know— Why do you think—”
Jennifer reached out and placed her fingers on his forearm. “Mr. Madison, I realize this is—”
“Madison?” Ryan asked. He stared down at the spot on his skin where her fingers rested. They were warm and soft, delicately boned and oddly comforting. “You’re telling me my name isn’t Madison, it’s Mulholland.” A soft chuckle slipped from Ryan’s throat. The sheer absurdity of the situation was more than he could take in. “You’re wrong. You’re looking for someone else, some other guy born on October 23, 1974. Not me.” He pushed the birth certificate back at her. He was the son of Jeffrey and Rhonda Madison.
She held out another item and he noticed it was a photograph of himself—or was it? He snatched it from her fingers and stared at the image, the face so like his, yet just a bit different.
“That’s your brother, Ben. Your twin.”
“This is not my brother,” Ryan insisted. “I don’t have a brother.” But though he said the words, he wasn’t certain they were true. The man in the photo looked remarkably like the man he saw every morning in the mirror as he shaved.
“If that’s true, we can clear this up very quickly. I need you to come to San Antonio with me. There’s a doctor there waiting to give you a blood test.”
Ryan shook his head. “If you’re so sure of your proof, why do I need a blood test?”
“I haven’t told you everything,” Jennifer said. “There’s another reason we need to go to San Antonio.”
Ryan raised his eyebrow, then stepped away from her, shoving his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans to keep from touching her. “You mean, there’s more?” he asked, a sarcastic edge to his voice. He wandered over to his desk and idly began to flip through a stack of geological surveys. “Let me guess. There’s probably a case of amnesia involved. Maybe some family insanity, a few underworld connections. Hell, according to you, my life has suddenly become a cheesy soap opera.”
She grabbed his elbow and gently turned him until he faced her. “This isn’t some silly television show. This is real life. Ben Mulholland has a five-year-old daughter who has been diagnosed with leukemia. She needs a bone marrow transplant and the doctors haven’t been able to find a donor match through the network. Her father can’t donate because of a bout with malaria. If worst comes to worst and the right donor can’t be found soon, they’re hoping you might agree to help.”
He stared at her for a long moment, saw the emotion in her eyes, the hopeful expression. He’d always known someday a woman would walk into his life and change him forever. But he’d expected to fall madly in love and get married. He didn’t expect her to turn his whole world upside down and make him question who and what he was!
His gaze dropped to her mouth and he fought the temptation to kiss her. It had been so long since he’d kissed a woman, but he hadn’t forgotten how easy it was to lose himself in a warm and willing female. All the confusion that muddled his brain would slowly dissolve and he’d be left with only desire and the sweet taste of her mouth.
“She’s your sobrina,” Jennifer said quietly. “Your niece.”
“That, Miss Rodriguez,” he murmured, letting her name linger on his lips, “is yet to be determined.”
“Then come with me,” she urged. “If you’re sure it’s a mistake, we’ll prove it and you can get back to your life.” She reached into the pocket of her purse and produced a plane ticket. “We’ve got a flight out of Midland in two hours.”
“You were awfully certain I’d agree to come with you.”
A tiny smile curved the corners of her mouth, charming, enticing, revealing an impish streak that she’d kept hidden until now. “If you didn’t come willingly, I was going to knock you senseless and stuff you in the trunk of my car.” She turned and started toward the door of the trailer.
“You must be getting paid very well by Mr. Mulholland,” he said.
She turned back, her expression suddenly cool, but her eyes betraying a startling depth of determination. “This isn’t about money, Mr. Madison. This is about a little girl’s life.” With that, she stepped outside into the blazing sun, heat pouring into the air-conditioned trailer like a blast furnace.
Ryan smiled and smoothed his hands over the front of his sweat-stained T-shirt. He was tempted to slam the door behind her and refuse to follow her to San Antonio. But something in the way she looked at him, in the stubborn set of her mouth and trusting look in her eyes, made him want to do as she asked.
