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Making Babies
Wendy Warren
MAKING PLANS, MAKING FRIENDS…MAKING A BABY?Elaine Lowry is a divorcée with a plan: to have a baby on her own. Why shouldn't she have the child she always dreamed of–the child her ex-husband is now having with his new wife! As if it's not enough that he's taken the house and, with it, her social standing.Enter sinfully handsome lawyer-for-the-opposing side Mitch Ryder. Feeling guilty about the part he played in Elaine's divorce, he takes over as landlord on her apartment before it's sold right from under her. Mitch offers himself as a daddy candidate on one condition: their marriage needs to be all business. But Mitch can't help the tender protective feelings he has for Elaine, especially when they make love for the first time. And besides, who says business comes before pleasure?
“I would like you to be the father of my children.”
Thunder roared. Cymbals crashed. Trumpets blared.
And that was only what was going on in Mitch’s head. He’d had no idea he’d react this way until Elaine spoke the fateful words.
“There’s no point in marrying beforehand, because neither of us is interested in getting married to begin with.”
Mitch felt his brow dip into frown territory. That was news to him. “Go on.”
“I think the best approach is to wait. See if I get pregnant and if I do, then and only then explore marriage.” She paused for his reaction. “I just thought it would be a good idea not to put so much pressure on each other. You have to make love something like every other day for seven days to increase the odds of getting pregnant.”
“It does sound like a lot of hard work,” he mused. He reached for his scone and buttered it.
“Fortunately I’m a workaholic.”
Dear Reader,
It’s October, the time of year when crisper temperatures and waning daylight turns our attention to more indoor pursuits—such as reading! And we at Silhouette Special Edition are happy to supply you with the material. We begin with Marrying Molly, the next in bestselling author Christine Rimmer’s BRAVO FAMILY TIES series. A small-town mayor who swore she’d break the family tradition of becoming a mother before she becomes a wife finds herself nonetheless in the very same predicament. And the father-to-be? The very man who’s out to get her job….
THE PARKS EMPIRE series continues with Lois Faye Dyer’s The Prince’s Bride, in which a wedding planner called on to plan the wedding of an exotic prince learns that she’s the bride-to-be! Next, in The Devil You Know, Laurie Paige continues her popular SEVEN DEVILS miniseries with the story of a woman determined to turn her marriage of convenience into the real thing. Patricia Kay begins her miniseries THE HATHAWAYS OF MORGAN CREEK, the story of a Texas baking dynasty (that’s right, baking!), with Nanny in Hiding, in which a young mother on the run from her abusive ex seeks shelter in the home of Bryce Hathaway—and finds so much more. In Wrong Twin, Right Man by Laurie Campbell, a man who feels he failed his late wife terribly gets another chance to make it up—to her twin sister. At least he thinks she’s her twin…. And in Wendy Warren’s Making Babies, a newly divorced woman whose ex-husband denied her the baby she always wanted, finds a willing candidate—in the guilt-ridden lawyer who represented the creep in his divorce!
Enjoy all six of these reads, and come back again next month to see what’s up in Silhouette Special Edition.
Take care,
Gail Chasan
Senior Editor
Making Babies
Wendy Warren
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For my daughter,
Elisabeth Elana Laura Blough,
link to the past and the future,
key to joy in the present.
Your daddy and I adore you.
“Our hearts spoke your name, and God heard.”
WENDY WARREN
lives with her husband, Tim, a dog, a cat and their recent—and most exciting!—addition, baby daughter Elisabeth, near the Pacific Northwest’s beautiful Willamette River. Their house was previously owned by a woman named Cinderella, who bequeathed them a gardenful of flowers they try desperately (and occasionally successfully) not to kill, and a pink General Electric oven, circa 1958, that makes the kitchen look like an I Love Lucy rerun.
A two-time recipient of Romance Writers of America’s RITA
Award for Best Traditional Romance, Wendy loves to read and write the kind of books that remind her of the old movies she grew up watching with her mom—stories about decent people looking for the love that can make an ordinary life heroic. Wendy was an Affaire de Coeur finalist for Best Up and Coming Romance Author of 1997. When not writing, she likes to take long walks with her dog, settle in for cozy chats with good friends and sneak tofu into her husband’s dinner. She always enjoys hearing from readers, and may be reached at P.O. Box 1208, Ashland, OR 97520.
Elaine’s Fertility Goddess Shake
1 cup plus 2 tbsp of the best chocolate or vanilla-caramel ice cream you can find
½ cup organic soy milk, regular or vanilla—chilled
1 small ripe banana
1 tbsp organic peanut, almond or cashew butter
1 couch
1 romance novel
Put 1 cup ice cream into a blender. Put 2 tbsp into your mouth. Add ½ cup soy milk (to the blender) then the banana and nut butter. Process until smooth. Pour into a tall, frosted glass.
Sit on the couch, pick up your novel, sip your drink and think sexy thoughts. You’ll be a goddess in no time.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
Pencil erasers tasted like gum mixed with sand. Elaine Lowry knew this for a fact because she’d just chewed through one while staring at a large flat appointment book lying open on the desk in front of her.
For two days each week, Elaine worked in the outer office of Harold J. Gussman, D.D.S. She did the dentist’s filing and stuffed envelopes for the “Come-In-We’ll-Make-You-Smile” six-month checkup reminders he sent to his patients.
She’d been working here part-time for five years. Just yesterday, she’d walked the two blocks to Office Max on her lunch hour to buy one of those little plastic water bottles with the sponge tips so she could sponge the envelopes instead of having to lick them all.
Five years, and she’d finally made the switch from tongue to sponge.
It just showed how she felt about change. If she’d been in charge of the pilgrims, the citizenry of the United States would be huddled around Plymouth Rock to this day.
Pushing heavy brown bangs off her forehead, Elaine rubbed a spot of tension over her right eyebrow and sighed. It was difficult to respond to life’s little challenges.
Take, for instance, right now.
She was covering for Sue, Dr. Gussman’s receptionist, who had slipped out for a potty break. In looking at the appointment book a minute ago, Elaine had seen that Steph Lowry would be coming in at four-fifteen for a tooth bonding.
Steph Lowry.
Steph. Short for “Stephanie.”
Lowry. Short for “the vacuous, bubble-headed, plastic-breasted bleached blonde who stole my husband.”
Not that Elaine was holding a grudge. But surely the imminent arrival of her barely ex-husband’s younger, blonder new bride called for some reaction. Something more than the “Oh, you’re having your wisdom teeth pulled? Don’t worry, it won’t hurt a bit” dental receptionist’s smile that felt as if someone had superglued her upper lip to her gums.
That’s me, Elaine thought. No point in making a scene.
She had not been raised to respond in anger, or with any other less-than-gracious emotion.
So never mind that she wanted to write Root Canal in the appointment book next to Steph Lowry’s name. Dignity was eternal.
“Thanks for manning the front, sweetie. I had to pee like a racehorse.” Sue Kelsey, Dr. G’s receptionist for the past nine years, elbowed Elaine away from the desk and ran a porcelain nail down the column of afternoon appointments.
“We’re double-booked with two fillings at six,” she groaned. “What a pisser. I won’t get out until seven.” The permed red curls she wore down to her shoulders bounced when she shook her head. “Rats. It’s a total waste of daylight savings time. I crave at least a little sunlight when I go home, you know? Are you out of here soon? Are you?” Sue slapped Elaine’s forearm with the back of her hand. “Hey.”
“Hmm?”
“Are you leaving soon?”
“Leaving?”
“Yeah. Going home. Sayonara. Hasta la vista. Outta here, suckers.” Squinting behind gold glitter-rimmed glasses, Sue studied her officemate. “What’s the matter with you? You look like you shot yourself full of Novocaine.”
Elaine struggled to focus. Novocaine sounded kind of nice right about now. A little afternoon respite. Like high tea, only numbing.
“I’m fine.” Elaine forced some cheer into her voice even though her stomach felt like it wanted to climb out through her mouth. A glance at her Timex—the one Kevin had given her three years ago on their tenth anniversary—told her it was four-thirteen. Unless tardiness was one of the new-and-improved Mrs. Lowry’s downfalls, she would be here any minute.
So typically sensitive of Kevin to recommend his first wife’s dentist for his second wife’s teeth.
Sue must have taken the appointment when Stephanie called. Had she noticed Steph’s last name? Elaine dreaded the thought of questions. Sue didn’t know about Stephanie. No one at the office knew that her husband had left her for a younger and depressingly firmer woman. All Elaine had told her co-workers was that she and Kevin had decided to split, they were both getting on with their lives and wished each other well…yadda, yadda.
Granted, diplomacy like that could be considered the coward’s way out, and, no, she didn’t expect Dr. Phil to ring her doorbell offering kudos on her outstanding coping skills. But it was easier this way. It was. She rarely saw her co-workers outside of work, anyway. And the truth was, it didn’t matter how nice you were: When your husband left you for the Tae-Bo instructor at your coed gym, people talked.
Elaine’s stomach gurgled, ulcerlike. If she could simply hide until this little quirk of fate had passed…
Grabbing her work, she retreated to the file cabinets against the far wall. She kept her head down and her back to Sue and the reception window, but she knew the moment Stephanie arrived. The hair on the nape of Elaine’s neck stood up and her bare ring finger started to spasm.
“Hi, I have a four-fifteen with Dr. Gussman.”
The high, nasal voice was unmistakable. Steph Lowry sounded like a canary with a sinus infection. It was her only unattractive attribute. Well, that and the fact that she stole other women’s husbands, but why quibble?
“Do you have a key for the little girl’s room?” Steph chirped after Sue asked her to sign in.
Elaine gritted her teeth hard enough to ruin all of Dr. Gussman’s fine work. Little girl’s room. Puh-lease! Like anyone needed a reminder that the bloom was still on Stephanie’s rose.
Apparently Sue handed over the key, because Stephanie cooed, “Ooh, thank you,” then giggled. “I have to go all the time now.” She spoke confidentially, woman to woman. “I had no idea it was so much work being pregnant!”
Sue murmured something in reply, but Elaine didn’t really hear. Her heart dropped and her stomach lurched. She was going to pass out….
No. She was going to vomit first and then pass out.
Locking her fingers around the cold metal drawer of the file cabinet, she sucked air in shallow breaths and wondered whether anyone would take her side if she remained upright by clasping her hands around the neck of a pregnant woman.
Elaine didn’t have to see Stephanie to be able to picture her. The image of the sunny California blonde who had been her casual acquaintance and her husband’s lover was printed indelibly on her mind.
Stephanie warbled another “thank you,” then left the office in search of the bathroom, and Sue went in back to tell Dr. Gussman his next patient had arrived. Elaine stood very, very still and tried not to toss her cookies. All at once she started to shake. Hanging on to the file cabinet, her arms tingled and her heart began to race. She felt dizzy and hot and clammy.
“I’ve got to get out of here.”
She didn’t stop to think twice. Wanting only to leave before Sue returned to her desk, Elaine took the few remaining files and shoved them behind the W’s in the bottom drawer. Grabbing her purse and the blue cardigan she’d brought with her this morning, she scribbled, “Finished early. See you tomorrow.—E.” on a yellow Post-It and stuck the paper to the appointment book. As calmly as she could, she moved through the waiting room then flew out the door and down the hall.
The elevators in the seventy-year-old building moved like sap down a maple tree. Unwilling to linger when Stephanie might emerge from the little mistress’s room at any moment, Elaine opted for the stairs.
Pregnant. Pregnant. Preg-Nant. The word repeated with every click of her heels down the cold, concrete steps. Kevin and Steph Lowry were with child. Divorce had only been the legal end to her marriage. This news was coup de grâce.
