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His Wife
Muriel Jensen
The Abbots: A Dynasty in the MakingLove Is The Riskiest Business Of AllIf Sophie Foster counted her blessings, her children would top the list–except when their obsession with finding a father puts her on the spot. Like that day two of them decide to ensnare a member of the wealthy Abbott clan who they agree would be perfect for the part–if he wasn't so addicted to danger.Sophie knows that handsome Sawyer Abbott does stunts to raise money for good causes, but bitter experience has taught her that men who live on the edge end up hurting themselves and the people who love them. The daredevil's sun-kissed hair and chiseled bronze features, however, come with the heart of a hero, and now it's her turn to learn what women in the small town of Losthampton, Long Island, have been saying about Sawyer Abbott all along…. Resistance Is Futile!
“I want to see you again,” Sawyer said
Sophie expelled a little sigh that seemed to be one of relief. “So you’re not finding it hard to be around me?” she asked.
Sawyer had to repeat that to himself. “Hard?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “If I were any other woman, you could kiss me now and not worry about whether I’d scream or tremble or push you away.”
Her candor made him grin. “Actually, I get a lot of that anyway.”
She elbowed him in the arm. He loved the way she did that. “You do not. I hear that women love you. So do children.”
He pushed at the car door, thinking he couldn’t take too much more of this. She was studying him with a sweet look that was still mildly wary, for all her speculation on how she’d react if he kissed her.
“I have to go,” he said quickly. He got out of her car and walked around to his, only to find her standing in front of his door.
Her mind was replaying bright images of Sawyer holding her in the office, memories of how it felt when a man’s muscles were used to comfort rather than hurt.
“Sophie…” he warned.
Dear Reader,
When I began this book I thought I didn’t understand daredevils, but I created one in Sawyer Abbott anyway because I know readers love them. Life is such a gift that it seems criminal to me to risk it for anything less than saving another life.
And then it occurred to me that’s what we do when we love each other. We save each other. Love is the biggest risk a man or woman can take, and there’s no fire suit, no safety net, no 911 responder to protect you from disaster. Love is an openhearted, pull-out-all-the-stops gamble that whatever draws you to someone will grow into the stuff that lasts a lifetime.
As all writers do, I shape a character and send him or her in a certain direction, but what he or she decides to do is really up to that character. When Sawyer decided to love Sophie despite a dark secret, and to love her three creative children, I realized I knew him pretty well. And I fell in love with him myself. I hope you will, too.
Sincerely,
Muriel Jensen
P.O. Box 1168
Astoria, Oregon 97103
Books by Muriel Jensen
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
866—FATHER FOUND
882—DADDY TO BE DETERMINED
953—JACKPOT BABY* (#litres_trial_promo)
965—THAT SUMMER IN MAINE
1020—HIS BABY** (#litres_trial_promo)
His Wife
Muriel Jensen
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
THE ABBOTTS—A GENEALOGY
Thomas and Abigail Abbott: arrived on the Mayflower; raised sheep outside Plymouth
William and Deborah Abbott: built a woolen mill in the early nineteenth century
Jacob and Beatrice Abbott: ran the mill and fell behind the competition when they failed to modernize
James and Eliza Abbott: Jacob’s eldest son and grandfather of Killian, Sawyer and Campbell Abbott; married a cotton heiress from Virginia
Nathan Abbott and Susannah Stewart Abbott: parents of Killian and Sawyer; Nathan diversified to boost the business and married Susannah, the daughter of a Texas oilman who owned Bluebonnet Knoll
Nathan Abbott and Chloe Marceau: parents of Campbell and Abigail; renamed Bluebonnet Knoll and made it Shepherd’s Knoll
Killian Abbott: now the CEO of Abbott Mills; married to Cordelia Magnolia Hyatt
Sawyer Abbott: Killian’s brother by blood; a daredevil
Campbell Abbott: half brother to Killian and Sawyer; brother to Abigail; manages the Abbott estate on Long Island
China Grant: thinks she might be the missing Abigail
Sophie Foster: mother of Gracie, Eddie and Emma Foster; the woman with whom Sawyer Abbott falls in love
Brian Girard: half brother to Killian and Sawyer
Contents
Prologue (#uc7e38a65-300f-55a1-8279-88af1ef6c5ec)
Chapter One (#ue16d29e9-c0dc-514c-ae1f-6df4a6a7476a)
Chapter Two (#u2433e4d6-da79-5cf8-8157-7cb8c8b88696)
Chapter Three (#u73e2fab3-9c31-5bfe-961e-add8872a7c28)
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)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
Sawyer Abbott stared into the eyes of the beautiful young woman he’d found peering in the French doors to the library of his home, as he struggled to process what she’d just told him. “I think…” she’d said, “I mean…I believe I could be…your sister, Abigail.”
Sister. For so long the word had signified grief and regret and terrible guilt. But connecting any of those to this vibrant young woman with long dark hair and lively dark eyes was difficult. Although those physical characteristics would qualify her.
“I wasn’t snooping, I swear,” she went on hastily. “I was just hoping for a glimpse of one of you, some sign of a friendly face so that this wouldn’t be so…scary.”
He wanted to reply, but shock held back the words.
“I’m…China Grant, by the way. I mean…that’s been my name. But…maybe not who I really am.”
She shifted her weight and smiled a little nervously, pointing to a square box on the ground. It was the utilitarian kind, intended to hold office documents or personal papers for storage. “I, ah…there are some things in my box,” she said rapidly, “that make me think it could be me. I was adopted as a toddler and I always knew that, but I was told I came to my family through my mother’s doctor. They adopted my sister the same way. When our father died just a month ago, we were cleaning out the house and found these boxes with our names on them, and the things that must have belonged to us when we moved in. I know that probably sounds suspicious…”
She kept talking, and he finally raised a hand to stop her. She sighed, as though grateful. “Sorry,” she went on. “There’s just so much to say.”
His brain a muddle of confusion, his emotions taking him places he wasn’t sure he had the courage to explore, he nodded in agreement. If she was Abby, there was twenty-five years’ worth of things to say.
He pushed the French doors open. “Let’s go inside. Our company’s yearly staff meeting is under way here right now, but this room’s pretty quiet.”
She walked in, holding on to her box, and stopped in the middle of the room. “My goodness,” she whispered. He was used to the room, but the dark wood and leather and floor-to-ceiling shelves of books did have an awesome elegance.
He pointed her to the leather sofa and noticed a mild tremor in his hand. That tremor was beginning to take over his body.
“Wait right here,” he said. “I’ll get my brothers.”
She put the box down on the coffee table and asked hopefully, “Is my mother at home?” Then she added with a little apologetic inclination of her head, “I mean, if she is my mother.”
Her mother. That possibility was mind-bending after all these years. Chloe would be beside herself with shock and excitement. It was probably a good thing she wasn’t here until they could conclude whether or not this woman was Abby.
“She’s in Paris at the moment,” Sawyer replied. “Her aunt is very ill and she’s caring for her.”
“I see.” Clearly disappointed, she sat.
“Can I get you something?” he asked, touched by her quiet grace. “Coffee? Soft drink?”
“No, thank you.” She wore a white sweater and joined her hands on the knees of her white slacks. “I don’t think I could swallow. I’ll just sit right here and wait for you.”
Sawyer hurried down the hallway and through the quiet kitchen. Catering staff were handling this last day of the meeting. Through the window he could see them setting up under one of several pavilions on the lawn.
His breath came quickly as he ran upstairs, the expansion of his lungs making his broken ribs hurt. Imagining now that his near-fatal waterskiing accident had occurred less than twenty-four hours ago was hard. He should slow down, but he couldn’t. Abigail was home—maybe.
He rapped on his elder brother’s bedroom door. Killian opened it, a shushing finger to his lips. “Cordie’s still asleep.” He pulled on a blue cotton sweater, then took a good look into Sawyer’s eyes. Killian’s were blue under dark blond hair slightly disheveled by the sweater. “What?” he asked anxiously.
Sawyer pointed downstairs. “There’s a young woman in the library.” He was breathless.
“Yeah?”
“She says she thinks she’s Abby.”
“What?” Killian demanded.
Sawyer told him about the box.
“What’s in it?”
“I don’t know. I thought the three of us should talk to her together.”
Killian went into CEO mode. He lived his life with the same methodical organization he used to lead the Abbott Mills Corporation. Sawyer headed up the family’s charitable foundation, and Campbell, their younger brother, managed the estate. “Is Campbell downstairs?” Killian tugged his sweater into place over stone-colored slacks.
“He was still sleeping when I left the boathouse.” Sawyer and his younger brother had slept there because of the crowd at the house. “I’m going for him right now.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you in the library in ten minutes.”
Sawyer rushed down the stairs and toward the back door, a hand to his screaming ribs. He was halfway across the back lawn when Campbell appeared on the trail, walking toward the house in jeans and a black Abbott Mills T-shirt. He ran a hand through his dark hair, yawning.
“Hi,” he said when he spotted Sawyer. “I heard you get up and leave, and thought that meant you were coming back with doughnuts. Where are—?” He stopped when his dark eyes settled on Sawyer’s face. “What happened?” he asked urgently.
“We have a visitor,” Sawyer replied, taking Campbell’s arm and hurrying him toward the house, “who thinks she’s Abby.”
Campbell froze in the middle of the trail, though the late-June Long Island morning was already growing warm. “What? What makes you think she’s telling the truth?”
“I have no idea if she is or not,” Sawyer admitted, drawing him forcefully along. “I just thought we should all talk to her. I left her in the library and Killian’s going to meet us there.”
“All right, all right. I’m coming.” Campbell yanked free of him. “She’s probably pocketing our first editions as we speak. Why on earth would Abby just show up after all this time? She’s got to be some larcenous babe after part of the Abbott fortune.”
Somehow, Sawyer didn’t think so. “Don’t make judgments before you meet her.”
“And don’t start calling her ‘sis’ before we know the truth.”
Killian was filling the coffeemaker when Sawyer and Campbell arrived. A long granite-topped counter served as a work area for Killian, who used the library as an office. In a corner was a small wet bar and a coffeepot.
“Ah. Here they are.” Killian pulled cups out from under the counter as China Grant stood uncertainly at their arrival. Killian had apparently already introduced himself, and Sawyer could only guess from the hospitable act of coffee-making that his brother had decided she was worth listening to.
