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Expecting at Christmas
Charlotte Maclay
IN THE FAMILY WAY…When lovely Loretta Santana signed on as Griffin Jones's temporary butler, the wealthy playboy discovered he suddenly had a few unexpected problems. One: his petite new butler was a she. Two: she was pregnant. Three: she was eight months pregnant and soon to be a single mom….All Loretta had wanted was to earn a month's fair wages before her Christmas delivery arrived–until she fell for her debonair employer's considerable charms. And it didn't help that the wedding-wary bachelor's protective instincts lurched into overdrive–but could Loretta convince the acting daddy-to-be to take on that role for a lifetime?
Loretta’s hand clasped her midsection, her eyes wide. (#ub101bdd7-d5b2-5bf8-a6c1-65ebb547290f)Letter to Reader (#u5e972c6a-80a7-5d22-adc7-46a6aa833032)Title Page (#ua72415e0-ab55-5ea7-9a90-bce338435fa8)Dedication (#u065b0f55-eb6a-5284-ad3d-c20d40360577)About the Author (#ub21f5c1c-74d4-5a7a-9b16-c0c188745ce9)Chapter One (#uf16233ed-6cb5-5975-9969-ed8f5ac961ec)Chapter Two (#u5a46a049-eb8b-5b7a-b4b9-1f0583673921)Chapter Three (#u68b54663-384a-5289-9bde-8d98e6dcc467)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)Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Loretta’s hand clasped her midsection, her eyes wide.
Panic whipped through Griffin. “Are you having the baby?”
Shaking her head, Loretta took Griffin’s hand and planted it on her swollen belly. “She—or he—just kicked me. Here, feel.”
The heat of her body scorched his hand. He wanted to pull back, but she held him there. And then the baby kicked.
To actually feel the movement, to imagine a tiny foot pressing against his hand, touched him in a way he certainly hadn’t expected. An odd lump formed in his throat. He gazed into Loretta’s liquid-brown eyes, and they wouldn’t let him go. At some gut level, Griffin wanted to pledge he’d be there to take care of this baby, but he couldn’t do that. He wasn’t a family man.
With a force of will, he broke the connection between them and stepped back. He was not going to get involved with this woman or her baby.
Except that he already was....
Dear Reader,
The end of the century is near, and we’re all eagerly anticipating the wonders to come. But no matter what happens, I believe that everyone will continue to need and to seek the unquenchable spirit of love...of romance. And here at Silhouette Romance, we’re delighted to present another month’s worth of terrific, emotional stories.
This month, RITA Award-winning author Marie Ferrarella offers a tender BUNDLES OF JOY tale, in which The Baby Beneath the Mistletoe brings together a man who’s lost his faith and a woman who challenges him to take a chance at love...and family. In Charlotte Maclay’s charming new novel, a millionaire playboy isn’t sure what he was Expecting at Christmas, but what he gets is a very pregnant butler! Elizabeth Harbison launches her wonderful new theme-based miniseries, CINDERELLA BRIDES, with the fairy-tale romance—complete with mistaken identity!—between Emma and the Earl.
In A Diamond for Kate by Moyra Tarling, discover whether a doctor makes his devoted nurse his devoted wife after learning about her past... Patricia Thayer’s cross-line miniseries WITH THESE RINGS returns to Romance and poses the question: Can The Man, the Ring the Wedding end a fifty-year-old curse? You’ll have to read this dramatic story to find out! And though The Millionaire’s Proposition involves making a baby in Natalie Patrick’s upbeat Romance, can a down-on-her-luck waitress also convince him to make beautiful memories...as man and wife?
Enjoy this month’s offering, and look forward to a new century of timeless, traditional tales guaranteed to touch your heart!
Mary-Theresa Hussey
Senior Editor, Silhouette Romance
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
Expecting at Christmas
Charlotte Maclay
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For my great-nephew—wear your name proudly!
CHARLOTTE MACLAY
has always enjoyed putting words on paper. Until recently, most of these words have been nonfiction, including a weekly newspaper column, which has recruited nearly twenty thousand volunteers in the past twenty years for some four hundred different local nonprofit organizations.
When she is not urging people to get involved in their community, Charlotte divides her time among writing, volunteering for her favorite organizations (including Orange County Chapter of Romance Writers of America), trying not to mother two married daughters and sharing her life in Southern California with her own special hero, Chuck.
Dear Santa,
It’s been a long time since I’ve written a list to you, but this year, maybe because the baby will be here soon and it will be his or her first Christmas, there are a few things I would wish for to make this holiday just perfect.
1) For my brother Roberto, a new tow truck for his business
2) My brother Marco could sure use some new pizza pans to replace the banged-up ones he uses at his restaurant
3) Nothing pleases dear Aunt Louisa more than skeins of tatting yam, so I’d wish for a basket of yarn for her that magically would never get empty
4) Now I know my cousin Brenna would love a mini second honeymoon with her husband....
5) And as for me, I don’t want much for Christmas—but with all my heart I wish for a healthy baby with ten fingers, ten toes and an adorable smile. That would do me just fine.
Of course, if I were being totally honest, I’d want a daddy for my baby—and a husband for me. But I don’t suppose I’d ever find one in your pack. Still, there’s no harm in asking....
Merry Christmas.
Love,
Loretta Santana
Chapter One
Getting a job was always difficult. Landing one when you were eight months pregnant counted as a miracle.
Loretta Santana smoothed her hair back as she heard her new employer’s car cross the narrow wooden bridge at the bottom of Topanga Canyon Road and navigate the circular drive in front of his house.
She’d never actually been a butler before, though she’d taken an accelerated class at the Westside Butler Academy just last week in order to qualify for this position. And, true, her black suit, which she wore with a neat little bow tie, might have been a bit odd to order in a maternity size. But she was determined she’d keep this job until she became eligible for insurance benefits with the temporary agency that had hired her. She only needed one hundred and twenty more hours to her credit—three weeks—and she could sign up. Her baby wasn’t due for another four weeks and one day, the week after Christmas.
Instinctively she slid her hand across her distended belly. Both she and Isabella’s baby would need the medical benefits.
Anxiety had her gnawing at her lower lip as she opened the front door, standing back so Griffin Jones wouldn’t get a full-length look at her right off. Her nerves were certainly frazzled. When she got past this hurdle, she’d have to take a megadose of vitamin E to stabilize her ions and get her yin and yang back in balance.
With the easy strides of an athlete, Griffin mounted the steps two at a time. His suit jacket hung open and his power tie was loose around his collar. He came to an abrupt halt at the front door.
“Well, well, well,” he drawled. A wicked smile curled amazingly sensual lips. “What have we got here?”
“Loretta Santana, sir. Your temporary butler.”
He glanced past her into the rustic entry with its warm wood paneling and subdued lighting. “What did you do with Rodgers, sweetheart?”
“I believe he’s en route to London, sir.”
“Oh, I forgot that he had some sort of a family crisis back home.” Frowning, he cocked his head to the right, causing a lock of tobacco-brown hair to slide across his forehead at a rakish angle. “And you’re somebody’s idea of a joke butler?”
She flushed. “No, sir. I’m fully qualified to—”
“I’ll just bet you are.” He stepped across the threshold, his gaze raking over her with swift, masculine interest until it landed right smack on her midsection. “My God, you’re pregnant!” He choked and began coughing.
“Oh, you poor thing. You must have a terrible cold.” Automatically she placed the back of her hand to his forehead. “A fever, too. You’d better come inside. I’ll brew you a nice herbal toddy and give you some of my rejuvenative hydration pills. You’ll be right as rain in no time, sir.” Hooking her arm through his, Loretta tried to hustle him toward the master bedroom where he could get the rest he obviously needed—and forget he had a pregnant butler working for him. “Winter colds can be so dreadful. Would you like me to draw a nice hot bath for you, sir? Or can you manage for yourself?”
He put on the brakes. “I don’t have a cold, just a little sore throat, and I don’t appreciate my buddies playing a practical joke on me. They know damn well I wouldn’t sleep with a pregnant woman.”
Shock drove her back against the nearest wall. “Sleep? I wouldn‘t—That’s not why—The agency wouldn’t—” Good grief, what had she gotten herself into?
“That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Ol’ Brainerd set you up, didn’t he? Thought it would be funny to—”
“The employment agency sent me. I needed the job. They didn’t say you’d try to ravish me.”
“I’m not going to do any such—”
Without waiting for his explanation, she made a dash for the kitchen and the connecting servants’ quarters. She’d lock herself in, call the police—
“Wait! What the hell—”
She didn’t stop. But given her portly figure, her fastest run was more like a slow waddle. He caught up with her at the butcher-block island counter in the kitchen and snared her by the arm.
“Don’t hurt the baby. Please don’t—”
“For God’s sake, I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to know what’s going on.”
Her chin trembled. He was a really big man, his shoulders broad beneath his suit jacket, and his penetrating eyes so light a shade of blue they flashed like swords of silver. Loretta would not want to sit across a negotiating table from Griffin Jones. He would intimidate the staunchest foe.
She wasn’t feeling very staunch at the moment
“Look, don’t cry,” he pleaded, loosening his grip on her arm. “I can’t stand a weepy woman.”
“I’m not weepy.” She sniffed.
“Are you saying the employment agency sent you?”
She nodded.
“You sure you didn’t just happen to see the article in Inside Business about me being one of the ten top eligible bachelors, and you thought you’d claim I was your baby’s father—”
“I’d never do such a thing,” she gasped. “Isabella never would have wanted to have your baby.”
He blinked. “Who’s Isabella? I thought your name was Lor—”
“She’s my aunt, or she was. My mother’s youngest sister. I’m having her baby.”
With a shake of his head, Griffin stepped back. Maybe he did have a fever, after all. This woman wasn’t making any sense. “Where’s your husband?”
“I don’t exactly have a husband.”
“Okay, then, your boyfriend.”
“I don’t exactly have one of those, either, not since I got pregnant.”
“You figured you’d get pregnant and your boyfriend would have to marry you, huh?” A woman had tried to do that to Griffin not so long ago. He’d been willing to do the right thing. He’d had to. The death of Griffin’s mother in childbirth had always haunted him. He’d been nagging his parents for a baby brother, and when it turned out she was pregnant with a girl, he hadn’t wanted her. Then, suddenly, his mother was gone and so was his sister. He’d felt guilty ever since and somehow responsible.
And so years later he’d naturally felt responsible for the woman he’d slept with, Amanda Cook—until he discovered she wasn’t pregnant at all. She was nothing more than a gold digger anxious to get her hands on the substantial fortune he’d earned running one of the biggest chains of electronic stores in the country. He wouldn’t fall for a trick like that again anytime soon; he’d sworn off relationships that even hinted at commitment.
“Oh, no, this isn’t Rudy’s baby. It’s Wayne’s.”
Wayne? She definitely had an active love life, more than Griffin had managed lately. “So why didn’t he marry you?”
“He was married to Isabella.”
Now he could see exactly what had happened. “So Isabella caught you playing around with her husband.”
“No, of course not.” She looked honestly offended he’d suggested that possibility. “I wouldn’t do a thing like that. I loved Wayne just like he was my blood uncle.”
“And that’s why you’re having his kid?” Griffin had definitely lost the drift here somewhere.
“Well, Isabella couldn’t do it. Somebody had to help them out. So I said I would. Rudy didn’t like that. He said it made me ‘used goods,’ just because I was having their baby.” Her chin began to tremble again and her doe eyes started to fill with tears. “That wasn’t a very nice thing for him to say, was it?”
Griffin wasn’t sure.
“And that’s why I really, really need this job, Mr. Jones. But there’s no way I’m going to go to bed with you, so you can just forget that idea right now.”
“It wasn’t my idea. I thought—” Ah, hell, he didn’t know what he’d been thinking. “Look, why don’t we just sit down and talk a minute. We can start from the beginning, have a nice cup of coffee—”
“Herbal tea would be much better for your cold.”
“I don’t have a cold.”
“Of course you do. Everybody gets colds during the winter, especially during the holiday season. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. But I can get your ions back in shape in no time at all, if you’ll just give me the chance.”
How could a man argue with a woman whose eyes reminded him of hot chocolate? Particularly a pregnant woman. “Okay, we’ll do tea and you’ll tell me all about Isabella and Rudy—”
“I don’t want to talk about Rudy anymore. I wouldn’t marry him now even if he begged me.”
She scurried to the opposite side of the counter, opened a cupboard and pulled out a can of what Griffin assumed was her magical herbal tea. He hoped he’d be able to gag it down. He suspected Loretta Santana would get that bruised look in her dark eyes if he didn’t drink every last drop. To his everlasting dismay, he’d always been a sucker for a woman with tears in her eyes. Someday he’d learn his lesson.
“So you can start with Wayne and Isabella,” he suggested.
With surprising efficiency, she whipped out a teakettle, filled it with water and placed it on the stove, then retrieved cups and saucers from another cupboard. She wasn’t a large woman, Griffin realized, maybe five foot two. Her features were delicate, her cheeks beautifully sculpted. He’d heard pregnant women took on a special glow. With Loretta, he could believe that. Oddly, he didn’t want to think about the process that had gotten her pregnant or the man who’d had the privilege. Or the risks a small woman ran by carrying a baby, those same risks that had killed his mother.
“I made you a chicken casserole, if you’re hungry. Rodgers wasn’t sure you’d be home for dinner.”
“You talked to Rodgers?”
