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That Night We Made Baby
Mary Anne Wilson
Finally she turned and Nicholas saw Samantha's face. Her eyes were as he remembered, he hair just as soft. The months they'd spent apart fell away and Nicholas ached to touch this woman he could no longer claim as his own…but had never stopped longing for.As his gaze met hers, Samantha's expression became shuttered. And as he glanced down her body, he realized why. This woman who had haunted his dreams was visibly pregnant. Suddenly Nicholas's thoughts turned away from longing to a desperate need to know. Whose child did she now carry? And had some of his hazy dreams been true–had there been a night they made baby?
“So, you’re pregnant?”
The question sounded so incredibly stupid to his own ears. Of course Samantha was pregnant. If the breeze hadn’t been billowing her loose dress around her before, he would have noticed that fact right away.
She let out a deep sigh and nodded. “Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
Samantha stared out at the horizon, the stinging in her eyes uncomfortable, but nothing compared to having Nick this close. She’d been in turmoil over how to tell him about the child.
“Nick, I’m having your baby.” That sounded direct and right, but something inside her wouldn’t let her say the words.
She’d practiced telling him enough, long into the empty nights. She’d rehearsed what to say, what not to say, what to do. But none of that mattered now. Her heart was pounding and her stomach was in knots. Nothing was ever simple with Nick.
Dear Reader,
May is the perfect month to stop and smell the roses, and while you’re at it, take some time for yourself and indulge your romantic fantasies! Here at Harlequin American Romance, we’ve got four brand-new stories, picked specially for your reading pleasure.
Sparks fly once more as Charlotte Maclay continues her wild and wonderful CAUGHT WITH A COWBOY! duo this month with In a Cowboy’s Embrace. Join the fun as Tasha Reynolds falls asleep in the wrong bed and wakes with Cliff Swain, the very right cowboy!
This May, flowers aren’t the only things blossoming—we’ve got two very special mothers-to-be! When estranged lovers share one last night of passion, they soon learn they’ll never forget That Night We Made Baby, Mary Anne Wilson’s heartwarming addition to our WITH CHILD…promotion. And as Emily Kingston discovers in Elizabeth Sinclair’s charming tale, The Pregnancy Clause, where there’s a will, there’s a baby on the way!
There’s something fascinating about a sexy, charismatic man who seems to have it all, and Ingrid Weaver’s hero in Big-City Bachelor is no exception. Alexander Whitmore has two wonderful children, money, a successful company…. What could he possibly be missing…?
With Harlequin American Romance, you’ll always know the exhilarating feeling of falling in love.
Happy reading!
Melissa Jeglinski
Associate Senior Editor
That Night We Made Baby
Mary Anne Wilson
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Mary Anne Wilson is a Canadian transplanted to Southern California where she lives with her husband, three children and an assortment of animals. She knew she wanted to write romances when she found herself “rewriting” the great stories in Literature, such as A Tale of Two Cities, to give them “happy endings.” Over a ten-year career, she’s published thirty romance novels, had her books on bestseller lists, been nominated for Reviewer’s Choice Awards and received a Career Achievement Award in Romantic Suspense. She’s looking forward to her next thirty books.
Books by Mary Anne Wilson
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
495—HART’S OBSESSION
523—COULD IT BE YOU?
543—HER BODYGUARD
570—THE BRIDE WORE BLUE
589—HART’S DREAM
609—THE CHRISTMAS HUSBAND
637—NINE MONTHS LATER…
652—MISMATCHED MOMMY?
670—JUST ONE TOUCH
700—MR. WRONG!
714—VALENTINE FOR AN ANGEL
760—RICH, SINGLE & SEXY
778—COWBOY IN A TUX
826—THAT NIGHT WE MADE BABY
Dear Reader,
As a mother of three, I have always been struck by the power of babies to change their parents’ lives forever. Whether they are planned or a surprise, as tiny and helpless as they are, from the moment they exist, they profoundly alter the world around them.
In That Night We Made Baby, Samantha Wells is shocked, then thrilled to find herself pregnant with the child of her ex-husband, a man she will always love but knows she will never see again. Nicholas Viera believes he has the life he wants and needs. He knows where he’s going, what he wants, and is certain Samantha is his past, and children will never be a part of his future.
Little do both people know, but the “best-laid plans” of expectant parents are far from “set in stone.” What they think they want is no match for the tiny life that is a part of both of them, a life that comes with the ability to change or erase every plan they’ve made.
So, I invite you to share in the story of Samantha and Nicholas and a very unexpected baby who rearranges the future for all of them in That Night We Made Baby.
Contents
Prologue (#uc743e3d8-a672-5314-ad8f-f7105527d8f3)
Chapter One (#u7426fd03-723e-521b-840c-ba67a1f12860)
Chapter Two (#u907d3bb8-9b0c-58a7-a57b-c630049cad87)
Chapter Three (#ud4ceaa02-637c-53cb-ba6f-60b18d5d8260)
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)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
The Past—September
Los Angeles, California
“Reckless driving, an illegal lane change and failure to obey an officer of the law.”
Nicholas Viera had lived thirty-eight years without believing in luck. But that all changed the first moment he saw the pretty traffic-court defendant.
He never went into that part of the county courthouse; he didn’t deal with that area of the law. But he’d been so intent on something else that he made a wrong turn, pushed open the wrong door and stepped into the wrong chamber.
On that early-summer day, when he heard those charges being read, he looked up to see the defendant—a slender blond woman with her back to him. And Nick knew that luck was very real.
“Your Honor,” the blonde said in a quick, breathy voice, “I was just in the wrong lane and I tried to move over, then this other car wouldn’t get out of my way. I tried to get around it, but I couldn’t, then I thought if I turned and cut through the parking lot, I’d be able to pull ahead of that car, get in the right lane and go where I was trying to go all along.”
From his position at the chamber door, Nick was struck by the earnestness in the woman’s voice and by a riot of shoulder-length, sun-bleached blond curls. As he took a step forward, his eyes skimmed over beige slacks that clung to the gentle swell of her hips and showed off incredibly long legs. A clingy white blouse defined slender shoulders that shrugged repeatedly while the woman spoke. Wedge sandals added a couple of inches to her five-foot-five-or-six-inch height, and her hands moved constantly, adding expression to her words.
“I tried, but I didn’t realize that the curb cut out like that.” Her hands swept out away from her in a grand gesture as her words sped up. “If I had, do you think I would have tried to make that turn? I just never saw it and I thought I could make it, and bam, I hit it.”
“Miss Wells, please,” the judge said quickly to get a word in edgewise. “According to the officer, you crossed a double yellow line, almost ran into an oncoming car, then hit the curb. When he got there, you wouldn’t get out of your vehicle. You were not cooperative. Meanwhile, your car was blocking Wilshire Boulevard at four in the afternoon during rush hour.”
“I told you, I was trying to get into the parking lot and didn’t see the curb, then, the tire hit it and just blew up. I thought I might still be able to drive it, but the officer was yelling at me and I got confused.”
Nick found himself smiling as he made his way past the rows of wooden chairs toward the front of the room. He wanted a better look at the woman who wasn’t giving up despite the fact that she’d obviously wreaked havoc on the city of Los Angeles with her driving.
“But you were driving the car,” the judge pointed out with admirable patience. “You blew the tire, and it’s your responsibility.”
“Well, sure, of course, but if the other driver had let me over, I wouldn’t have had to do any of those things and the traffic wouldn’t have been stopped like that. And the policeman just yelled and yelled.”
“Yes, I guess he would,” the judge murmured. “But you could have gone around the block.”
Nick moved closer to the bailiff, and when he finally saw the profile of the formidable Miss Wells, he realized why the judge was being so indulgent with her, or at least why he wasn’t simply throwing her in jail and tossing away the key.
The woman was dead serious and absolutely beautiful—seductively appealing with a tiny nose, her chin elevated just a bit with challenge to show the beguiling sweep of her throat. He couldn’t help noticing the way the material of her blouse clung to high breasts that strained against the fine fabric with each breath she took. The only sign of nervousness was the way she started fiddling with a locket she wore around her neck.
He’d been so intent on looking at her that he’d almost stopped listening to her. Gradually, her voice filtered in again—a husky, earnest voice. “I had this really important appointment and I was already going to be late and I just had to get there.”
“Did you make your appointment?”
She shook her head, making her curls dance softly on her shoulders. “No, Your Honor. I didn’t.”
He sat back and looked down at her. “That’s a shame. Now, are you ready to enter your plea or are you going to want a jury trial?”
“Do I have to have a lawyer for a jury trial?” she asked.
“No, you don’t have to have an attorney, but if I were you and this was my record, I’d consider it.”
Nick wasn’t looking for more work and he never went into any court thinking about getting a client. Besides, his specialty was criminal law. This woman was just a crazy driver who was far too sexy for her own good. Despite all of that, he saw the way she hesitated, her hand stilling on the locket at her throat, and he found himself stepping in where he knew he probably shouldn’t.
“Your Honor, may I approach?”
At that moment, Miss Wells turned, and Nick finally got a good look at her face. She was maybe twenty-five or so, wearing little or no makeup, her incredibly green eyes shadowed by improbably long, dark lashes. There was a faint sprinkling of freckles across her nose. Her pale pink mouth was softly parted in surprise.
“Excuse me, sir?” the judge was saying.
“Nicholas Viera,” he said, taking a card out of his pocket and approaching the bench to lay it in front of the judge. “I was wondering if I might be of some help to…” He glanced back at the woman. “Miss Wells.”
“I don’t understand,” the woman said, obviously confused.
“Mr. Viera is apparently an attorney,” the judge said as he glanced at the business card.
“And I’m offering to represent the defendant on charges of reckless driving, an illegal lane change and failure to obey an officer of the law.” Being improbably desirable certainly wasn’t a criminal offense, but if it had been, as good as he was at what he did, he knew he’d never be able to get her off. “And anything else you allege that she did.”
“I told the judge that I was just trying to—”
Nick held up a hand to quiet her before she started off on another rambling explanation. “We’ll talk,” he said, then looked at the judge. “Can we reschedule?”
“If Miss Wells wishes to have counsel, we can put this on the calendar for…” He glanced at his clerk. “How does it look, Rhonda?”
A middle-aged woman at a low desk checked something in front of her, then looked at the judge. “A week today, Your Honor. Ten o’clock.”
He looked back at Nick. “How about that?”
Nick looked at Miss Wells. “Is that okay with you?”
Color was creeping into her cheeks, either from embarrassment or self-consciousness or possibly even anger at his high-handed behavior. But she was obviously as intelligent as she was a poor driver. She just nodded and said, “Fine.”
