“Marry you? I don’t know you,” Jenna insisted vehemently.

He almost smiled at her tone, but the subject was too serious. Taking her hand in his, he let his thumb skim the top of it. He could feel her slight quiver and experienced his own start of desire. There was chemistry between them as well as a child.

“Would marriage be so terrible?” he asked in a voice he didn’t recognize because it was filled with tenderness and protectiveness he’d never felt for a woman in his adult life. “I’m proposing a partnership. We’d live together, eventually sleep together.”

“Sleep together?”

The look in her eyes was part fear, part panic, with a spark of interest. If he trod very carefully, he might get what he wanted.

Turning her hand over, he brought it to his lips and kissed her palm, never taking his eyes from her. “There’s attraction between us, Jenna, whether you want to admit it or not.”

Dear Reader,

Your best bet for coping with April showers is to run—not walk—to your favorite retail outlet and check out this month’s lineup. We’d like to highlight popular author Laurie Paige and her new miniseries SEVEN DEVILS. Laurie writes, “On my way to a writers’ conference in Denver, I spotted the Seven Devils Mountains. This had to be checked out! Sure enough, the rugged, fascinating land proved to be ideal for a bunch of orphans who’d been demanding that their stories be told.” You won’t want to miss Showdown!, the second book in the series, which is about a barmaid and a sheriff destined for love!

Gina Wilkins dazzles us with Conflict of Interest, the second book in THE MCCLOUDS OF MISSISSIPPI series, which deals with the combustible chemistry between a beautiful literary agent and her ruggedly handsome and reclusive author. Can they have some fun without love taking over the relationship? Don’t miss Marilyn Pappano’s The Trouble with Josh, which features a breast cancer survivor who decides to take life by storm and make the most of everything—but she never counts on sexy cowboy Josh Rawlins coming into the mix.

In Peggy Webb’s The Mona Lucy, a meddling but well-meaning mother attempts to play Cupid to her son and a beautiful artist who is painting her portrait. Karen Rose Smith brings us Expecting the CEO’s Baby, an adorable tale about a mix-up at the fertility clinic and a marriage of convenience between two strangers. And in Lisette Belisle’s His Pretend Wife, an accident throws an ex-con and an ex-debutante together, making them discover that rather than enemies, they just might be soul mates!

As you can see, we have a variety of stories for our readers, which explore the essentials—life, love and family. Stay tuned next month for six more top picks from Special Edition!

Sincerely,

Karen Taylor Richman

Senior Editor

Expecting the CEO’s Baby
Karen Rose Smith

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my son, Ken. Dreams are a reach away.

May light and love always surround you in the reaching.

To Suzanne. May each of your days be filled with the wonder in Sydney’s eyes.

KAREN ROSE SMITH,

a former teacher and home decorator, has been a mother for thirty years. She believes motherhood is the most rewarding, life-altering experience a woman can have. Blessed with a husband who helped in all aspects of parenting, she drew on those memories for Jenna’s and Blake’s development in this book. Readers can write to her c/o Silhouette Books or e-mail through her Web site at Karen@karenrosesmith.com.

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

Epilogue

Chapter One

Everyone was staring at her!

As the receptionist showed Jenna Winton into the large conference room, a frisson of foreboding skipped up her spine, and she protectively laid her hand over her rounding belly. She’d been awakened this Monday morning by a few kicks from the child who was already the center of her world. More was right with her world now than it had been in the year and a half since B.J. had died. Still…

Before she’d even dressed, she’d received a phone call from the Emerson Fertility Clinic, the clinic that had implanted her with her deceased husband’s sperm. She’d been summoned here to a meeting this afternoon, and the receptionist wouldn’t tell her what it was about.

Now as Jenna looked at the faces around the table, recognizing her doctor, his nurse and two more men she didn’t know, her heart pounded and she told herself to stay calm. There was no reason for alarm. Maybe they just wanted to discuss her payment plan. She was behind a month.

Her physician, Dr. Palmer, gave her a smile that was perfunctory at best. With silver hair and in his fifties, he’d always welcomed her with a smile and a paternal attitude that had made her feel comfortable. She expected him to state the reason the clinic had called her, but instead, one of the men she didn’t recognize smiled a plastic smile.

“Good morning, Mrs. Winton.” He extended his hand to her. “I’m Tom Franklin, the director of Emerson Fertility Clinic. Beside me is Wayne Schlessinger, the clinic’s counsel. I think you know everyone else.”

“Yes, I do.” Jenna was becoming more concerned by the minute. The atmosphere in the small room was charged, and she didn’t understand any of it.

“Please have a seat,” Mr. Franklin invited, motioning to a chair beside his at the head of the table.

Everyone was still watching her. As the director’s gaze passed over her shoulder-length, light-brown hair, her white knit T-shirt under the pink maternity jumper, she sensed he was sizing her up and she didn’t like the feeling.

Gripping her straw purse, Jenna slipped into the chair gratefully, uneasy with being the center of attention.

Mr. Franklin hardly gave her time to take a breath before he began, “You’re probably wondering why we called you here today.”

“If it’s my late payment, I’ll be sending it to you within the week.”

“No, no, nothing like that. And let me assure you there is nothing wrong with your pregnancy, either. According to your chart, everything is just as it should be in your sixth month.”

“Then I don’t understand.”

He rubbed his hand across his forehead. “There’s no easy way to say this, Mrs. Winton. A mistake was made the day you were inseminated. Instead of being inseminated with your husband’s sperm, you were inseminated with another man’s sperm, Blake Winston’s. When the technician checked the names on the canisters, she removed B. Winston’s canister rather than B. Winton’s canister. Both men are from Fawn Grove, and with the likeness in the names, she selected the wrong one.”

Her heart racing, Jenna knew she must have misunderstood Thomas Franklin. “I can’t be carrying someone else’s child! You froze B.J.’s sperm before he started chemo because we thought he’d get better and we wanted to have children.”

Franklin’s hand covered hers. “I know, Mrs. Winton. I also know after your husband died, you came to us and Dr. Palmer decided to go forward with you to help you conceive your husband’s child. Unfortunately, the technician was overwrought the day you were inseminated. Her own husband was critically ill and her mind was on getting back to the hospital to see him. I’m sure you can understand that.”

Jenna understood all too well.

“This type of thing has never happened here before and we will take precautions to make sure it never happens again. We’ve terminated the technician.”

Everything he’d said was beginning to sink in, and Jenna felt overwhelmed with the enormity of it. “Why didn’t your technician admit her mistake sooner?”

As Franklin looked to the clinic’s lawyer, Wayne Schlessinger explained, “The day after the procedure she realized what had happened because she noticed the wrong vial was marked that sperm had been removed. But she has two children, and hers was the only salary. With her husband in the hospital, their bills had mounted up. She was afraid, and rightly so, that she’d lose her position here if she confessed.”

“Why did she confess now?” Jenna almost wished she hadn’t, then she could have gone on, blissfully ignorant of this terrible mistake.

“Her husband is back at work now, and the burden of carrying this knowledge was too great. She couldn’t keep her secret any longer. She wanted to tell you all this in person, but we thought it was better if she didn’t appear here today.”

Jenna didn’t know if Mr. Franklin was right or wrong about that. Maybe it would have been easier if she could have put a human face to this mistake. The more she thought about all the details surrounding it, the less she had to face the fact that the baby she was carrying wasn’t B.J.’s.

Schlessinger added, “The clinic will take full responsibility for its employee’s error. We asked you here today to forestall legal action. We don’t feel that would be beneficial to either of us. If you will sign the proper documents, in exchange, we will give you a settlement of one hundred thousand dollars. We have that check here for you today.”

Sliding a legal-looking form before her, he held out a pen, obviously fully expecting her to sign it.

Anger and frustration at Emerson Fertility Clinic rushed through Blake early Monday evening as he climbed the outside steps to Jenna Winton’s second-floor apartment. The early June late-day sun shone brightly, but Blake hardly noticed it or the crumbling stucco in the stairwell of the apartment complex located in an older section of Fawn Grove. His thoughts swirled around the meeting he’d just had at the Sacramento clinic and the revelation that there was a woman in Fawn Grove carrying his child. Franklin hadn’t wanted to give him Jenna Winton’s address, but the board at the clinic knew the kind of influence he could wield.

Reaching the second floor, Blake found apartment 112-C and pressed the doorbell, not exactly sure what he was going to say. He was about to press the bell a second time when the door opened.

He’d been given the details, and he knew Jenna Winton was six months pregnant. Yet when he was suddenly confronted with her pretty but obviously worried face, her wavy light brown hair caught in a gold barrette above her right temple, her dark brown eyes filled with questions because a strange man was at her door, he lost his grip on the confidence and power that usually got him what he wanted when he wanted it.

As her gaze passed over his hand-tailored charcoal suit, his black hair, the lines and creases that thirty-seven years had etched onto his face, she asked, “Can I help you?”

Her rounding belly was lost in the folds of her pink jumper. Blake had a visceral reaction to the idea that this woman was carrying his child. Frozen emotions began to thaw and a corner of his heart opened. Jenna Winton, who looked wholesome, innocent and vulnerable, shook the foundation of his world.

“Do you always open your door so readily to strangers?” Fawn Grove, located about a half hour from Sacramento, was growing quickly. Its small-town innocence wouldn’t last forever.

Without becoming defensive, Jenna gave him a tremulous smile. “This is Fawn Grove, not Sacramento or L.A. Are you checking security in the building?”

Ironic that she should think that. After all, security systems and strategies had made him the success he was. “I wish it were something that simple,” he told her, struck again by her delicate beauty, her pregnant radiance that he’d never seen on a woman before. “I’m Blake Winston.”

At that, Jenna Winton’s face paled and her troubled brown gaze studied him. “I’m not sure we should talk. I just got off the phone with my lawyer and—”

“Mrs. Winton, we have to talk. I’m the father of that child you’re carrying. You can’t expect me to leave here without discussing this.”

After a few moments of hesitation, she stepped back inside the apartment to let him pass. He caught the scent of a light, flowery perfume—lilacs—as he stepped into her living room and realized it was as hot as blazes in there. He ridged his starched shirt collar with his finger.

Noticing, Jenna apologized. “I’m sorry it’s so hot in here. The air-conditioning broke down last night. The landlord is attending to it.” She’d opened two windows that looked out onto the back courtyard, but not a wisp of a breeze stirred.

They stared at each other for long, silent moments, and Blake could feel a different kind of heat in the air. She was looking at him with those big brown eyes…. The stirring of desire had to be in his imagination. He wasn’t attracted to women like Jenna Winton. He went for leggy blondes who knew the score.

Suddenly his gaze dropped to Jenna’s hands. She was twisting the gold band on her left ring finger—her wedding band.

“Why did you come?” she asked, looking fearful but a bit defiant all at the same time.

He’d come to get a look at her, to see if she’d be a suitable surrogate. He hadn’t intended to hire one for a few more years, but faced with the reality of what had happened, he had no choice but to look at the situation realistically now.

“Why don’t we sit down,” he suggested, taking charge, hoping to put both of them a little more at ease.

She looked grateful he’d made the suggestion. As she sat in an old wooden rocker with carvings on the back, he took the opportunity to glance around at the brightly flowered chintz sofa covering, the lace curtains at the windows, the bookshelves and the desk where she probably prepared her lessons. He’d learned from a swift computer background check that she was a second-grade teacher.

Settling himself on the sofa across from her, he tried to be casual about the situation that was anything but casual. “I just came from a meeting at the clinic.”

She swallowed hard. “I guess it was quite a shock for you, too. I’m still having a difficult time believing this. B.J. and I wanted a child desperately.”

“B.J.?”

“My husband. His name was Barry Jacob but everyone called him B.J.”

“I understand he died a year and a half ago.” Blake knew he didn’t have the capacity in his heart for much compassion anymore. He’d hardened himself to the cruelties of life. Yet with Jenna Winton, he found a corner of it aching for her.

Meeting his gaze courageously, she nodded. “He had cancer and we had his sperm frozen before treatments started, fully expecting he’d recover. We always wanted a family….” She cleared her throat, trying to stave off emotion. “But B.J. didn’t recover. After he was gone, I decided having his child would always keep him alive in my heart.”

What would it be like, Blake wondered, to have a woman love him with that much fervor and faithfulness? He’d learned as a teenager a woman’s loyalty only extended as far as her selfish interests. He was hoping that would be the case with Jenna Winton, also. Sentiment didn’t pay the bills. According to the databases he’d accessed, she was deeply in debt for the hospital expenses her insurance hadn’t covered when her husband was ill, as well as for the insemination procedure. “The clinic told me you didn’t accept the settlement they offered.”

“I know better than to sign anything without consulting a lawyer. Fortunately I have a friend whose husband practices law. Did you accept the settlement?” she asked, surprising him.

“A settlement isn’t what I’m after.” As he studied Jenna Winton now, he knew instinctively she’d be the perfect surrogate. All he had to do was convince her of that. “I want the child you’re carrying.”

She looked stunned by his announcement and appeared to be speechless.

“I suppose you’re right to hold out for a bigger settlement from the clinic,” he continued. “They owe you big-time. But if you act as my surrogate…”

He took a check from his inside suit-coat pocket and offered it to her.

Her eyes widened as she noted the figure.

“That should cover your medical and hospital expenses, time off work and a little extra for going through the whole ordeal. If the amount is suitable, we can sign the papers and at delivery, you’ll give the baby to me.”

As they’d talked, heat had been building in the small living room along with the tension. Jenna’s brow was damp and she swiped her hand across it now as she stared at the check he was holding.

Then in a matter of moments, she went from speechless astonishment to fiery indignation. It flared in her beautiful brown eyes as she jumped to her feet, glaring at Blake as if he were crazy. “I don’t know who you think you are, Mr. Winston, but I want no part of your money. This baby is mine, and I’m not giving her or him up to anyone.”

Pretty before, she was beautiful now, and Blake felt a startling bolt of desire shoot through him that he couldn’t deny. Ignoring it, he stood, too, and faced her. “Why would you want to keep a child by a man you don’t even know?”

The question didn’t throw her as he’d expected it to. “I might not know you, Mr. Winston, but I know this child. I’ve been carrying him for six months. I love this baby. I’ve sung to him, felt him moving inside me. I will never give him up.”

Blake’s shirt stuck to his back, and he could feel sweat beading on his brow. “You might not have any choice.”

His warning rattled Jenna. He could see the fear in her eyes as all the implications of their situation became clear.

Hurrying to the door, she opened it. “I think you’d better leave.”

No one dismissed Blake. After Preston Howard—the father of the girl Blake had imagined himself in love with—had done that to him nineteen long years ago, Blake had vowed no one would ever dismiss him again. Standing his ground, he said evenly, “With the money I’m offering, together with the settlement from the clinic, you’d be set for a while.”

Her spine straightened and her shoulders squared. “Obviously, Mr. Winston, you don’t know me. If you did, you’d realize I’m more sentimental than I am practical. Bonds and family mean more to me than money ever could. So don’t bother making your offer again because I won’t accept it. Please leave or I’ll call the apartment complex manager.”

This time he did as she demanded because he could see her hands were shaking and her chin was quivering. She was pregnant with his child, and he didn’t want anything to happen to the baby or to her. Yet he couldn’t let her think she’d won, either, because she hadn’t.

Before he crossed the threshold, he looked her squarely in the eyes. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”

When Jenna closed the door behind Blake Winston, she almost collapsed against it. The emotions from everything that had happened today, along with the heat, seemed to press against her, making her short of breath. She knew she couldn’t let her emotions affect her physically. She had this baby to protect, and she would do that with her dying breath.

Closing her eyes for a few moments, thinking of the ocean and sand and waves, she calmed herself and her breathing became more even. Spinning around, she peered out the peephole. Blake Winston had indeed left. Not wasting a moment, she crossed to the cordless phone, picked it up and went to the window to catch a breeze. She pressed redial and hoped Rafe Pierson hadn’t left his law office. She hoped he wasn’t with a client. She hoped he could allay her fears. When she reached his receptionist, she gave her name again and the woman put her through.

Jenna had met Rafe’s wife, Shannon, through the elementary school where she taught. Shannon was a psychologist who used equine-assisted therapy to help troubled children. Three years ago, Jenna had heard about her success rate and recommended her services to the parents of one of her students. Shannon had invited Jenna to the Rocky R to give her a glimpse into her methods. She’d stayed for supper and gotten to know Shannon as well as her husband, Rafe, and their two girls. Grateful for the friendship that had begun before B.J. had died, Jenna couldn’t imagine discussing all of this with a complete stranger. Her upbringing as a minister’s daughter had taught her to keep her own counsel, to watch whatever she said and did because it would reflect favorably or unfavorably on her father. She’d never wavered from that course until she’d decided to be artificially inseminated with B.J.’s sperm. Her father had disapproved, but this time his disapproval hadn’t mattered.

“Jenna?” Rafe asked, his voice carrying honest concern. “What’s wrong? Has the clinic contacted you again?”

“No. Blake Winston has. He made me an offer he thought I couldn’t refuse to become a surrogate for him.”

Rafe swore. That was the first time Jenna had ever heard him use a vulgarity. As a former D.A., he usually kept his temper well in check. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him the child is mine. It is, isn’t it, Rafe? He said his lawyer would be in touch. He can’t really take this baby away from me, can he?”

There was a long moment of silence. “This is an area of the law that’s changing day by day. I can’t tell you Winston doesn’t have a leg to stand on because in reality, he is the biological father. If this was anyone but Blake Winston…”

“I don’t understand. Do you know him?” Rafe hadn’t mentioned knowing him in their last conversation.

“No, I don’t know him. I know of him. He has plenty of money and just as much influence. He grew up in Fawn Grove, then made a fortune in L.A. in security systems. He’s the CEO of a company that not only installs security but arranges it for politicians and stars.”

“And he lives in Fawn Grove?”

“He returned about three years ago and set up a branch of his company in Sacramento. He bought the Van Heusen mansion.”

Truth be told, Jenna didn’t read the paper often. As a teacher, her nights were spent correcting papers or doing lesson plans. Nevertheless, she knew the Van Heusen house and grounds. It was located at the northern end of town. As a child, she and her brother Gary had taken walks past it, wondering what it would be like to live in a house like that.

“And you believe his money will make a difference?” she asked, more than worried now.

“It’s not his money, Jenna. I’m just as concerned about his influence. Hold on a minute. Donna is passing me a message that came in on the other line.”

Jenna wondered how a judge would look at Blake Winston’s money and his mansion, as well as what he could offer a child.

“Jenna?”

“Yes, I’m still here.”

“The clinic called and they want a meeting.”

She’d given the clinic Rafe’s name and number, knowing she was going to let him handle this for her. “What kind of meeting?”

“They didn’t say, but I’ll find out. Are you free tomorrow?”

School was closed for summer vacation and her only commitment was filling in for her father’s secretary when Shirley left on vacation at the end of the week. But she’d fit in this meeting anytime. “Yes, I’m free.”

“Good. I suspect Winston and his lawyer will be there, too. In the meantime I’ll research case law on this. We’ll go in there as prepared as we possibly can be.”

“Rafe, I know I should give you a retainer or something—”

“Right now I’m your lawyer because I’m your friend. If it gets drawn out, we’ll talk about retainers. Okay?”

“I really don’t know how to thank you.”

“I’ll tell you how you can thank me. This has been a rough day for you. Get yourself a lemonade, put your feet up and try to do something mindless until tomorrow. I’ll get back to you with the time of the meeting.”

After Jenna had thanked Rafe again and given him her cell phone number, she hung up knowing she couldn’t stay here in the apartment in the heat. She’d stop at the ice cream parlor for a frozen lemonade and then go to the library. Maybe there in the air-conditioning, she could use their computers and do research concerning custody cases on her own. What bothered her the most about all of this was the quickening of her pulse and the roller coaster waves she’d felt when she’d looked into Blake Winston’s eyes. B.J. had been the salt of the earth, the consummate common man. He’d been a roofer and never aspired to more than that, living each day as it came. Through their years together, he’d convinced Jenna to do the same. She’d loved him with all her heart.

But she’d never had the reaction to B.J. that she’d had to Blake Winston. This rich man, the father of her child, made her pulse race in a way that had nothing to do with her pregnancy. That troubled her, almost as much as Blake’s warning that she’d hear from his lawyer.

As Rafe escorted Jenna on Tuesday afternoon into the same conference room where the bomb had been dropped on her yesterday, her gaze passed over her physician, Dr. Palmer, the clinic’s director, Thomas Franklin, the clinic’s counsel, Wayne Schlessinger, and a man she didn’t know. Then her gaze locked to Blake Winston’s. His smoky-gray eyes told her he was a complicated man. The fluttering of her stomach, which she’d like to attribute to anxiety and fear—but couldn’t if she wanted to be honest with herself—told her something else entirely. Seated at the end of the conference table, he was wearing a light blue polo shirt, navy casual slacks and supple leather loafers. Just noticing all of this made her feel as if she were betraying B.J.’s memory. Yet noticing Blake Winston’s clothes was a far better distraction than noticing the width of his shoulders, the beard line along his jaw, the vitality of his thick black hair.

“Mrs. Winton,” Wayne Schlessinger said in greeting.

“Mr. Schlessinger,” she acknowledged, and gave a little nod to everyone else, including her adversary.

After Schlessinger shook hands with Rafe, he motioned Jenna and her lawyer to two chairs on the opposite side of the table from the clinic’s representatives. Jenna found herself seated beside Blake, and an uncomfortable situation became unbearable. She was too aware of his cologne, too aware of his appraising glance as his gaze passed over her white-and-blue smocked maternity dress.

Schlessinger addressed Rafe. “I take it you’ve carefully read our settlement offer?”

“Yes, I have. But I haven’t advised Jenna to sign it.”

“May I ask why not?”

“I want her to be sure that she’s ready to waive her rights to any future lawsuits before she signs anything. It was unfair of you to pressure her to take the offer yesterday.”

“There was no pressure, Mr. Pierson.”

Jenna clasped Rafe’s arm, telling him she wanted to speak for herself. “Having a $100,000 check ready for me to endorse was pressure in itself, Mr. Schlessinger.” She looked at Blake. “Are you taking their offer?”

He repeated what he’d told her yesterday. “The clinic’s money isn’t the issue. My child is.”

“Mr. Winston,” Schlessinger interrupted. “We’ve gathered everyone here today to try to resolve this.”

“Resolve this?” Rafe asked wryly. “My client entered into a contract with you in good faith. She’s carried this child for six months. Do you think any amount of money is going to make up for the mistake your clinic made?” He directed his attention to Blake. “Do you think any amount of money will convince my client to give up her child?”

There was frustration on Blake’s face as well as a blaze of anger in his eyes as he answered. “If money won’t do it, then the law might. I’m the biological father of this child and I have rights. Joint custody at the very least. You’re right about one thing, Mr. Pierson, this isn’t going to be resolved today. Not unless your client is willing to sign a surrogate agreement and give up rights to the child when it’s born.”

Feeling as if she’d been struck by a lightning bolt, Jenna realized her child meant so much to this man that he’d use all of his power and influence to take away her baby. Although she’d been dealing with the situation since yesterday, she suddenly felt overwhelmed by it all. The information she’d read on the Internet hadn’t been encouraging, and the idea that she was having a child that wasn’t B.J.’s filled her with the same grief she’d experienced after he died. In the midst of the grief, she heard her father’s voice warning her against being artificially inseminated because it wasn’t natural.

Now she was going to have to tell her father she wasn’t even carrying B.J.’s child! She was carrying a stranger’s child, and this stranger wanted to take her child away from her—or at the very least, share custody with her.

Tears she’d been holding at bay for more than twenty-four hours sprang to the surface. There was no way she could hide them. Yet she wasn’t going to make a fool of herself in front of all these people.

Pushing away from the table so fast her chair tipped over, she fled the conference room. She heard Rafe’s voice but didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop…not until she’d rushed through the waiting room, pushed open the door and fled around the corner of the building to the parking lot. There under the shade of a live oak, she let the tears freely fall while she covered her face with her hands, wishing against all odds that this was a nightmare and she’d soon awaken.

When she felt a hand on her shoulder, she took a breath, choked back a sob and looked up, expecting to see Rafe. But it wasn’t Rafe who stood there. It was Blake Winston, the man who wanted her baby for his own, the man who’d replaced B.J. in her dreams last night.

She turned away from him, trying to hide her tears, trying to hide feelings she didn’t understand.

Chapter Two

Blake hadn’t chased after a woman since he was eighteen. That escapade had ended in disaster with a sense of betrayal that yawned so wide he hadn’t been interested in a serious relationship since. Yet when Jenna Winton had run out of that conference room, he’d known he was the reason. What he’d seen on her face was genuine distress.

Now, for the first time since his meeting with the director of the clinic yesterday, he tried to put himself in her shoes. She’d loved her husband—so much so that she wanted to carry his child even when he was gone. The news that she wasn’t carrying B.J. Winton’s child must have been devastating. Another woman might have wanted nothing to do with the baby. That’s fully what Blake had expected. Compensating Jenna Winton for her pregnancy and her services as a surrogate had seemed a reasonable and perfect solution to him.

Yet apparently she’d formed a bond with this child already and didn’t want to let go. If she was that kind of woman, she would make a wonderful mother.

“Jenna,” he murmured, using her given name as if it was his right. She was still turned away from him, and he realized she didn’t want him to see her tears.

Women used tears to manipulate. They used tears to bring a man to his knees, didn’t they?

Watching the sunlight play on the blond strands in Jenna’s light brown hair, seeing the tension in her small shoulders as she tried to keep her turmoil from him, compassion he hadn’t felt in a very long time stirred in his heart along with something else…something else he didn’t want to identify or examine.

Clasping her shoulder, he nudged her around. Still she kept her head bent, and he couldn’t keep from lifting her chin so she’d meet his gaze.

Her skin was soft, a creamy ivory under his tanned thumb. The few freckles on her nose attested to the fact that she wasn’t wearing makeup. Her lips were a bit pinker than natural and he suspected she’d applied lipstick. Not that sticky, shiny concoction that made women’s lips look like they were painted, but a creamy soft pink that suited her well. It was her dark brown eyes that made his chest tighten. They were swimming with tears and anguish, testifying to the fact that this wasn’t a performance for his benefit.

“I’m sorry if I upset you,” he said gently, realizing he meant it.

When she tried to blink away her tears, they rolled down her cheeks and she swiped at them self-consciously. “After B.J. died, I felt lost. Then I became pregnant and life seemed to have meaning again. Now you’re threatening to take away my baby and—”

The urge to take this woman into his arms was so strong Blake had to fight it with every ounce of his self-control. She had to look up a good six inches to meet his gaze, and although she was pregnant, she still looked slender and fragile. Yet from the way she’d stood up to him already, he suspected she wasn’t fragile at all.

“I do want this child, and I imagined I’d go about it just as I have everything else over the past twenty years,” he found himself explaining. “I’ve always set goals and reached for them, not letting anything alter my course.”

A tear she hadn’t managed to wipe away stole down her cheek. Before he thought better of it, he caught it and let his finger glide over her skin. This time her eyes didn’t waver from his, and he found himself aroused by simply touching her. The space around them seemed to be charged with a current that could shake the leaves from the trees.

“I can see now,” he went on hoarsely, “having a baby is quite different from opening a branch of my firm in another city, finding the best people to work with me, or topping last year’s revenue.”

The hum of cars on the street in front of the clinic was a backdrop to the most important conversation of his life.

Jenna’s gaze was troubled as she asked, “How can we settle this if we both want the same thing and neither of us will let go? You just learned about this child yesterday. I’ve been nourishing this baby and talking to it and playing music for it for the past six months. This is my child, Mr. Winston.”

“Blake,” he corrected her. “It’s Blake,” he said again. “Do you mind if I call you Jenna? Formality will only get in the way of whatever decisions we have to make.”

“That’s just it, Mr….” She stopped herself. “Blake. What decisions can we make if we both want to be parents?”

“I don’t know. I do know I think you and I have to talk about this without our lawyers. We need to spend some time together and discuss what all of this means to our lives.”

“I wouldn’t advise that, Jenna,” Rafe said from behind Blake’s shoulder. “Mr. Winston has had a lot more practice than you persuading other people to do his bidding.”

Stepping back, Jenna made space to include Rafe in the discussion. “I can listen to him, Rafe. Mr….” she stopped herself once more. “Blake isn’t going to convince me to do anything I shouldn’t.”

Then she gave her lawyer a weak smile. “I have to persuade twenty-five children every day to do exactly what they’re supposed to do. My persuasive skills might be on par with Mr. Winston’s.” She looked up at him almost apologetically for forgetting to use his first name again.

No matter how upset Jenna Winton was, she had spirit and a determination of her own that would give him a run for his money…or his child. “Let’s go for a drive,” Blake suggested.

She looked surprised. “Now?”

“Yes, right now. We can stop and get something for an early supper.”

“Jenna…” Rafe warned.

Moving closer to her lawyer, she put her hand on his arm. “It’s all right, Rafe. Really. I’m sure Mr…. Blake doesn’t have anything underhanded up his sleeve. After all, you’re a witness that he’s asking me to supper. I promise I won’t sign or agree to anything without consulting you.”

Looking unhappy with the whole idea, Rafe asked, “Do you have your cell phone?”

She blushed. “No. It wasn’t charged so I left it in the apartment.”

“I do have a cell phone.” Blake dislodged it from his belt and handed it to Jenna. “You take this. Apparently Mr. Pierson thinks you may have to send out a mayday.”

With a shake of her head, Jenna returned the phone to him. “I’m pregnant, gentlemen—not incapable of looking after myself or using my common sense.”

Blake almost smiled and knew he was right about Jenna not being fragile.

Rafe plowed his hand through his hair. “I can’t talk you out of this?”

“No, but just to make you feel better, I’ll call you when I get back.”

“I understand she’s pregnant, Pierson,” Blake assured her attorney. “I won’t take any chances with her or with my baby.”

“All right,” Rafe finally decided. “But there’s just one more thing before you go. Jenna, can I see you privately for a few minutes?”

Seeing that Pierson was obviously Jenna’s friend as well as her lawyer, Blake knew when to let well enough alone. “I’ll tell Schlessinger and the others that the meeting is concluded for today. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Fifteen minutes later, Jenna sat beside Blake in his Lexus feeling nervous and unsettled. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all. There was something about Blake Winston that made her feel electrified. When he’d touched her in the parking lot…

Blake hadn’t spoken much but instead switched on the CD player. She supposed the music was supposed to relax her. It was instrumental—piano, violins and guitar that at any other time she might have enjoyed. But as the man beside her glanced over at her, she knew she had to make conversation. She knew she had to figure out what she was doing here with him.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“I’m heading for the Delta. My boat’s there.”

“Your boat?”

“It’s a cabin cruiser. I thought we might take it out.”

“I’ve never been on a boat before. What if I get seasick?”

He smiled at her. “If you do, I’ll bring it back to the marina. Nothing else on earth is as relaxing as being out on the water.”

“You think being relaxed is going to help us?”

“It won’t hurt. Don’t you think better when you’re relaxed?”

She didn’t know if he was teasing or not. “I’ve never considered it.”

He laughed at that and she liked the sound. It was rich and deep, like his voice.

“What was the last-minute advice Pierson gave you?”

She could see no harm in passing on Rafe’s warning. “He warned me not to tell you too much about anything. He doesn’t want me to inadvertently help you make your position stronger.”

Blake’s mouth tightened and his jaw set. As he pulled up to a red light, he turned to look at her. “How long have you and Pierson been friends?”

“About three years. His wife, Shannon, is a psychologist. I consulted with her about one of my students.”

“He seems to be as much of a friend as a lawyer.”

“He is. He and Shannon were both terrific through everything…everything that happened.” Although Shannon had children to care for—Janine, Rafe’s daughter whom she’d adopted, and Amelia, the child she and Rafe had had together—she’d been the best friend Jenna could have ever had. When B.J. was in the hospital, Shannon had dropped by often and encouraged Jenna to eat and go for walks to maintain her own health. After B.J. died, Shannon and Rafe invited her to the ranch every weekend. She didn’t know what she would have done without them.

“How long was your husband ill?”

When she hesitated, Blake frowned. “Jenna, I’m a security expert. This is information I can access easily.”

“You can access medical records? I thought they were supposed to be confidential.”

“Any computer specialist can find out exactly what he wants to know. Most private investigators can now, too.”

“Because you can do it yourself, you wouldn’t have to resort to hiring one of those, though. Right?”

Her temper had a terrifically long fuse, but Blake had just activated it. Maybe everything Rafe Pierson had suspected about him was true. “In fact,” she added, “I bet you already know all about me and you just want to see how honest I am with what I tell you. Maybe this little ride is a mistake. Maybe we should turn back right now.”

Finally Blake said, “I do know a few things about you. I’d like to know more, including what kind of mother you’d be. I won’t find that out by doing a background check.”

“Why do I suddenly feel as if I have to pass some kind of test?”

Without another word, Blake pressed his foot to the brake and pulled his car to the side of the road. “If we go back now, our lawyers are going to fight this out, probably in court. Is that what you want?”

She finally realized why Blake had suggested this drive. If they went about this with lawyers and paperwork, they’d do it mechanically, seeing facts and figures, not the person they were dealing with. What good would that do either of them?

“No, that’s not what I want,” she murmured.

“Does that mean I shouldn’t turn around?”

Looking into his gray eyes, she sensed what a ruthless man he could be. In her case, though, he was making her face what was best for both of them. “I don’t want you to turn around, but I don’t know if I’m too thrilled about going out on your boat, either.”

His gaze was still locked to hers when he nodded. “Fair enough. We can get supper from the marina’s deli and eat on the deck. Afterward, you can decide if you want to venture onto the water.”

“Fair enough,” she repeated, knowing she’d have to stand her ground with this man, knowing she’d have to be careful what she did, what she said and what she felt.

When they stopped at the deli, Blake insisted on buying everything. Since she wasn’t really hungry and her stomach was tied up in knots, she simply pointed to a turkey sandwich and let him purchase that for her. He didn’t stop with the sandwich order, though, but added fruit salad, rice pudding and an assortment of cookies for dessert. A few minutes later, she followed him to his covered berth and saw immediately that his cabin cruiser, the Suncatcher, was much more than a boat to take out on weekends. He could easily live on it.

Blake boarded first, and the step down was a large one.

“I could lift you down,” he said with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“If you just give me your hand, I think I’ll be fine.” She didn’t know any other way to do it safely, and she wasn’t about to let him scoop her up into his arms—as if a man would do that in this day and age.

He was standing close to the step. “Use my shoulder to lean on, too.”

Dismay coursed through her when she realized that would help. She wasn’t about to take a chance on falling. When she clasped his shoulder, she could feel the strength there, the hard muscles beneath his knit shirt. This little excursion seemed suddenly altogether too intimate. Still, it was too late to back out now.

When she seemed at a loss for a moment, Blake took her hand and she quickly made the descent into the boat. Hoping to put distance between them again, she moved across the deck, examining its cushioned captain’s chairs, burled walnut fittings, and conveniences she’d only imagined could be on a boat. Suddenly she realized she wasn’t going to get much distance from Blake here.

Although he’d released her hand moments before, she still felt the tautness of his skin. His heat seemed to be part of her now.

He motioned to one of the chairs. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get plates and silverware and cups in the galley.” Then he disappeared down the stairs before she could tell him she could drink her lemonade out of the carton.

“You’ve really never been on a boat before?” Blake asked her fifteen minutes later as they shared supper and gazed out over the water.

She found herself watching him as he ate. He was obviously hungry, as he downed a twelve-inch sub. When he licked mayonnaise from a finger, she found herself watching his lips. They were sensual, mobile, as fascinating as the gray of his eyes.

Giving herself a mental shake, she realized he’d asked her a question. “No, I’ve never been on a boat.”

“So…what do you think?” he asked with a half smile.

“It’s nice,” she said. “Sort of like an outdoor restaurant.”

After he laughed out loud at that, he said, “I’ve never heard it put quite that way before. Would you like a tour? There are two bedrooms, a galley and the head downstairs. That’s the bathroom.”

“That term I’m familiar with. I’ve never been on a boat, but I’ve read about them. Still, I don’t think I’ll need a tour. It doesn’t sound as if I’d get lost using the bathroom.”

“Afraid to go below with me?”

He was much too perceptive for her own good. These quarters were close enough. “Of course not. But I imagine it’s hot down there…”

“I have air-conditioning I can flip on.” Finished with his sandwich now, he leaned forward, his knees almost touching hers. “I’m sorry if I make you nervous.”

She was sure she was blushing now. “It’s just this whole situation,” she said honestly.

“Help me understand,” he requested quietly.

Not sure he could understand, she still attempted to explain. “Discussing artificial insemination with someone other than my husband and doctor isn’t something I’ve done before. Now a whole gaggle of people are talking about it. I’m a minister’s daughter, for heaven’s sake. I still don’t swear in front of my father or anyone who would carry stories to him. I have to talk to him about all of this, and I don’t know how I’m going to do it. On top of that, I’ve driven off with a strange man against my lawyer’s advice. There isn’t anyone here within shouting distance and…” She trailed off, not knowing how to explain the rest. She certainly wasn’t going to tell him she felt things when she looked at him, especially when he got too close.

After studying her for a full two heartbeats, Blake leaned back as if to give her a little space.

“Why would it be so hard to explain all this to your father even if he is a minister?”

“Dad’s very…conservative. He didn’t agree with my decision to become artificially inseminated. He insists that if I was supposed to be pregnant with B.J.’s child, it would have happened before he died.”

“From the background info I read on you, I saw that your mother died when your brother was a year old. You were nine then?”

It bothered her to think he’d accessed information about her so easily. But now she had to make it more than mere words to him. “Yes, I was nine. So I’ve always been more like a mother to Gary than a sister.”

“Did you take care of your father, too?”

“No. We always had a full-time housekeeper-secretary who cooked and baby-sat.”

“I imagine being a minister’s daughter is rough.”

She shrugged. “Not having a mother was rough. Fortunately I wasn’t the wild type to begin with.”

When she mentioned not having a mother, she thought she saw a shadow cross Blake’s face.

After he took a few swallows of soda, he asked, “How about your brother? Is he the wild type?”

“Not really. Gary has just always hated Fawn Grove. We left Pasadena and moved here when he was two. He has his eye on bigger things than a small community can give him. Rafe told me you’ve been back in Fawn Grove for three years. Do you intend to stay?”

“I intend to make it my home base. It was my home when I was a kid, but I’m in Sacramento more than I’m in Fawn Grove. I travel to L.A. and Seattle a lot, too. There’s a charter service I use that makes traveling efficient.”

“We lead very different lives,” Jenna said softly as she thought about his boat and mansion, flying off to another city at the drop of a hat.

“What are you thinking, Jenna?” he asked, his gaze steady on hers.

Again she was chagrined that he could read her so well. She remembered what Rafe had said about not telling this man too much, and yet she had to follow her instincts. “I’m thinking that you can give this child a lot of advantages I can’t, and how a court would look at that.”

“In other words, you think I have the upper hand.”

“No. You may have money, and maybe you can hire the best nannies there are in this world, but I’m this child’s mother. Not by accident, but because I wanted this baby. I think that will pretty much balance the scales unless you resort to something underhanded.”

“You’re not afraid to pitch straight, are you?” he asked, a bit wryly.

“I might be merely a second-grade teacher, and I might live a simpler life than you do, but I’ll fight for this child with every breath inside of me.”

Neither of them spoke for a full minute. Finally he stood and she did the same so he wouldn’t tower over her any more than he already did.

“Round one is over,” he concluded. “I think we both established that neither of us is going to sign away our parental rights.”

“What do we do about round two?”

After studying her for a few moments, he eased one hand into his pocket. “I think we should take an intermission before we jump into the ring again. How about that boat ride?”

“You’re serious?”

“I didn’t bring you to the Delta to sit on the deck and rock in the ripples. I think you’re more fearless than that.”

He had her pegged wrong this time. She wasn’t fearless at all. She was afraid he’d somehow manage to take this baby away from her. She was afraid she’d forget B.J.’s face. She was afraid that Blake Winston could be too persuasive when he set his mind to be. Yet she wouldn’t let him see the fear because that would definitely be giving him the upper hand.

“All right,” she agreed. “Take me for a boat ride. But I’ll warn you right now, I’m pregnant and I just ate supper.”

At that, he chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll consider myself warned. Stay right there and I’ll get your life jacket.”

Blake made sure Jenna had safely returned from the bathroom and was comfortable on the deck before he took the helm. She held on to the arms of the captain’s chair as the boat moved away from the slip and onto the river. After a few minutes, she began to relax…if that was at all possible under the circumstances.

Jenna watched as they passed all the Sacramento marinas. Then the boat picked up speed, and she felt as if she were on a cruise. The blue sky, the hum of the engine, the sun and the warm breeze made her realize she’d never had an experience quite like this. She could see why Blake was drawn to the water. It was peaceful out here in a way that nothing else could be peaceful.

It seemed only a short while later when Blake dropped anchor in a cove and descended the stairs to the deck. “I thought you might like to take it all in from a different vantage point. I know you don’t feel free to walk around while we’re moving.”

He was right about that. She’d almost fallen asleep in the comfortable chair and had been content there. Standing, she stretched, all the while aware of Blake as he stood at the rail looking far down the river. His shoulders were so broad, his skin tanned, his body fit. A tingle of excitement rushed through her as she went to stand at the rail beside him, making sure their elbows didn’t touch, reminding herself Blake only wanted something from her—his child.

Taking his phone from his belt, he handed it to her. “Why don’t you call Pierson. It’s almost five and I’m sure he’s probably ready to put out an APB on you.”

As she glanced at her watch, she realized it was indeed five o’clock. She couldn’t believe they’d been on the water for an hour. He was probably right about Rafe being worried. As she punched in the number, she asked, “This will work here?”

“There’s a tower not far away on the shoreline. While I’m out, I often duck in here to make a few calls.”

Walking over to the bench seat, she gazed out at the horizon. Rafe’s receptionist answered on the second ring and then patched her through.

“Rafe, it’s Jenna.”

“I was beginning to get worried. How was your drive?”

“Um…it’s not over yet. I’m out on Blake’s boat.”

There was silence. “Jenna, do you know what you’re doing?”

“Not exactly.” She glanced at Blake and saw he was watching her.

“Do you know how unorthodox this is? You shouldn’t be fraternizing with him if we’re thinking about going to court.”

If they did go to court, who was going to pay those bills? She didn’t want to say that and have Blake overhear. “We’ll talk about it when I see you.”

“I’ll be in court all day tomorrow.”

“Then I’ll talk to you on Thursday.”

She heard his heavy sigh. “You can be as stubborn as Shannon.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Call me tonight when you get home.”

“Rafe…”

“Call me, Jenna.”

“All right. But don’t let the rest of your hair turn gray over this. I’m fine. In fact, it’s very peaceful out here.”

“The calm before the storm,” her lawyer muttered.

A few minutes later she stretched out her arm to give Blake his phone. His fingers brushed over hers as he took it, and she again felt guilt as something besides the baby stirred inside of her, something she hadn’t even felt with B.J.

Still trying to absorb the tingling jolt of awareness that had rushed through her at the brush of his skin on hers, she peered into the distance, trying to see the future, trying to see her life without B.J. but with Blake Winston’s child. It was unfathomable, as deeply hidden as any buried treasure.

“Do you have other children?” she suddenly asked Blake.

His brows arched. “No, I don’t. I’ve never been married, either, if you’re wondering about that.”

There was an edge to his voice, and she realized he didn’t like personal questions. “You know a whole lot more about me than I know about you.”

The tension seemed to leave his brow as he turned his back to the railing and faced her. “I don’t have any other children because I’ve always been careful.”

She needed to ask the most personal question of all and felt awkward doing it. Yet the answer was more important than her discomfort. “Why did you have your sperm frozen?”

At first she thought he wasn’t going to answer her, that he’d go right back up those stairs and pilot them back to the marina. But then he said, “I’d heard that men’s sperm become less potent as they age. Since a serious relationship isn’t in the cards for me, I decided I’d hire a surrogate and have a baby after I was forty. Freezing my sperm seemed like the practical thing to do.”

She felt as if she’d landed in a minefield. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, yet from the expression on his face, she knew he wouldn’t answer them.

“I suppose everyone tries to plan their future and very few succeed,” she mused. “It never quite goes the way we expect, does it?”

“Fate has thrown its share of boomerangs at me,” he admitted, as though he was telling her something he wouldn’t tell many others.

Being on this boat with him created intimacy that scared her. Maybe it was the way he was looking at her, maybe it was the sparks of silver in his gray eyes, maybe it was the way they were standing almost toe to toe.

Slowly he reached out and fingered a tendril of her hair that wisped along her cheek. Waves of heat seemed to undulate between them. “You’re a very beautiful woman, Jenna.”

She felt her cheeks go hot for many reasons, mostly because she’d never thought of herself in those terms. “I’m pregnant,” she said, as if that contradicted him.

His crooked half smile made her tummy flip-flop. “I think being pregnant has just added to your beauty.”

She was twenty-six, but she felt like a naive teenager with this man.

“I’m glad you came along with me today.” His voice was husky and as mesmerizing as his eyes.

She didn’t know if it was the sway of the boat or the force of the breeze, or something else entirely, but she felt herself leaning toward him. As he began to bend his head, the call of a gull startled her and she was totally dismayed at what she’d almost let happen.

Stepping away from Blake, she tried to slow her racing pulse. “I think we’d better go back.”

He didn’t look at all flustered, and she wondered if his tender touch had been planned along with everything else this afternoon. Was this why Rafe had been fearful for her? Had he been afraid she’d come under Blake Winston’s spell?

That wasn’t going to happen. She had her child to think about.

Turning away from Blake, she went over to the captain’s chair again and settled into it, waiting for him to take her back to the marina. When she returned to Fawn Grove, she’d call Rafe and then they’d plan a strategy. This man would not take her baby away from her.

She wouldn’t let him.

Chapter Three

As Blake parked behind Jenna’s apartment complex, he was bothered by the silence between them. It had seemed to drown out the music coming from the CD player during the drive back. For that one moment on the boat, he’d forgotten about their situation, about who he was and who she was, and that they might be headed to court. It had been a stupid impulse to even think about kissing her. He had practically everything a man could want. Yet Jenna Winton made him long for more.

Climbing out of his car, he closed the door and walked around to the passenger side. He knew better than to expect loyalty from a woman. He knew better than to expect anything but physical satisfaction from a relationship. Danielle Howard had taught him a valuable lesson when he was eighteen, and he’d never forgotten it. Her betrayal had pushed him toward the success he’d found. If only his father had lived to see it…if only his father had had the courage to wait for Blake to return…the courage to keep on living even when he thought his life was over.

As Jenna unfastened her seat belt and opened her door, it seemed natural to hold out his hand to her. She didn’t take it. As easily as any woman who wasn’t pregnant, she swung her legs to the pavement and stood with a dancer’s grace.

“I’ll walk you to your apartment,” he said after he closed her door.

“That’s not necessary.”

“I want to make sure you’re safely inside before I leave.” He wouldn’t mind having another look around her place. If she did get custody and brought his child home to her apartment…

He couldn’t let her have custody. He wouldn’t give up his baby. Whether he’d known it or not, for years he’d needed some connection…some bond. He knew he’d spoil a child, but he wanted his kid to have every advantage he’d never had.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked as they walked toward the building’s outside entrance.

Her question wasn’t one that was asked often. His employees and business associates usually knew exactly what was on his mind. “Why?” he returned warily.

“You looked so fierce.”

“I was thinking about the baby—what I could give him…or her.” As they started up the stairs, he asked, “Have you had a sonogram?”

She glanced at him. “Yes, but I didn’t want to know the sex. I wanted to be surprised.”

That was a way they were very different. He didn’t like surprises. “That makes shopping difficult, doesn’t it? You’d have to buy everything in green or yellow.”

“I haven’t started shopping yet,” she said quietly.

“Why not?”

They’d reached the landing when she answered, “Superstition, I guess. I just wanted to make sure everything was all right. I wanted to make sure I was really going to term with the baby.”

He took her arm. “Is there something wrong I don’t know about?”

“No. No! I just felt more comfortable waiting. Besides, Shannon told me there are good baby sales at the beginning of July.”

Thinking about what he’d learned of Jenna’s finances and the stringent budget she must be following, he wondered if she even had a room set up for the baby. “How many bedrooms do you have in your apartment?”

“Just one. But I’m going to breast-feed so I’ll have the baby in my room with me, anyway.”

With her words, his gaze dropped to her breasts. He found himself picturing—

Blanking out the image, he motioned to the hall entrance to guide her ahead of him. As they walked down the second-floor hall, Blake saw two other apartment doors were open—probably because of the problem with the air-conditioning. If there was a breeze, the residents were trying to pull it through.

An exotic-looking woman who appeared to be near forty came to the door when she saw Jenna pass. “Jenna,” she said fondly. Her hair was fixed on the top of her head with a yellow banana barrette, her cutoffs were short, and her stretch top barely contained her breasts.

Jenna greeted her neighbor with a smile and a wave. “Hi, Ramona. Staying cool?”

“I’ve been sharing Trina’s Popsicles. Want one?” The orange treat in question dripped onto her hand.

“No, thanks. I just want to get a cold shower and turn in.”

Blake asked, “Any word on when the air-conditioning will be fixed?”

Ramona looked him up and down appraisingly. Apparently liking what she saw, she smiled. “Not any time soon. The landlord said he’s waiting for a part. You know how that goes. By the way, Jenna, you have a visitor.”

Jenna stilled. “A visitor?”

“I didn’t want you to get a heart attack when you walked into your apartment. Your father’s there.”

“Do you know why?”

With a shrug, Ramona shook her head. “I dunno. When I saw him using his key, he just said something about not being able to get hold of you.”

Jenna looked chagrined. But then her expression eased again as she asked her neighbor, “Did he say anything about another counseling session?”

“No. I made sure he knew Joe was gone for good. I took Trina to church on Sunday and your dad seemed pleased. I owe him a lot. He wants Trina and me to stay safe. I want that, too.”

“You haven’t heard from Joe since you sent him packing, have you?”

“Nope. Word has it he’s in San Francisco. I don’t know why I let him treat me like I did. If it wasn’t for you sending me to your dad, I might have ended up with more than a few bruises.” As if she was embarrassed by her admission, she asked with a wink, “You been out on a date?”

Flustered, Jenna glanced at Blake. “Oh, no. No. Just business.”

“Uh-huh,” Ramona drawled with a wicked smile. “Looks to me, you know how to pick ’em.”

When Jenna turned beet red, Blake felt sorry for her. “Business” didn’t quite cover why he was here. Still, he rescued her. “Maybe we’d better see what your father wants.” He was curious about Jenna’s father and welcomed the opportunity to meet him.

Obviously relieved by his cue, Jenna said to her neighbor, “Give Trina a good-night kiss for me.”

“Will do.” Ramona was still smiling as she turned and went back into her apartment.

“She’s a friend of yours?” Blake asked, surprised.

“Ramona’s been terrific. I’ve had morning sickness on and off throughout the pregnancy. When she doesn’t hear me up and about, she knocks on the bathroom wall. It’s thin and we can talk through it. She can check on me that way.”

“Her husband was violent?”

“Joe was her boyfriend. Whenever he got drunk…” Jenna shook her head. “It was a bad situation. But after dad counseled her, she finally did what she had to do to protect her daughter.”

As Blake and Jenna stood outside her apartment door, he asked, “Why would your father be here?”

“He probably just wants to make sure I’m all right.”

Blake could certainly understand that feeling. He’d felt protective about Jenna as soon as he learned she was carrying his baby.

The table lamp beside the sofa was glowing when they stepped inside her apartment.

Jenna’s father eyed Blake suspiciously as he stood and approached her. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.”

Glancing at Blake, she looked embarrassed. “I spent the afternoon with Mr. Winston.” She motioned toward him. “Blake, this is my father, Reverend Charles Seabring.”

Reverend Seabring looked Blake up and down again. “I’ve seen your picture in the paper, haven’t I? You own a security company and have very…” He hesitated, then continued, “Important clients.”

Unfortunately, Blake often did make the newspapers, usually coming away from a charity event with a tall blonde on his arm. He knew he had a reputation for being a jet-setting bachelor who never intended to settle down. That image hadn’t bothered him before. Now he knew the reverend would disapprove of any time his daughter might spend with Blake. “My company’s based in Sacramento and, yes, sometimes I am in the papers. I understand you’re a minister?”

“Yes, I am. I should be preparing my sermon for Sunday, but I was too distracted by visions of my daughter lying in a ditch somewhere. Why didn’t you answer your cell phone?”

Squaring her shoulders, she stood up to him. “Because I didn’t have it with me. I forgot to charge it last night and I was in a hurry when I left today.”

“I got that phone for you so you’d have it in an emergency. That means you have to keep it with you.”

Apparently Jenna had had enough of her father’s protective streak. Spots of color appeared on her cheeks. “I’m twenty-six, Dad. You told me that cell phone was a gift and that’s why I took it. But if it comes with strings, you can have it back. I’m not going to report in to you three times a day.”

Her father ran his hand through his thinning and graying brown hair and finally smiled. “I suppose once a day is too much to ask?”

Her expression softened. “Once a day is fine. I would have called you within the next half hour.”

Charles peered at Blake with a penetrating gaze that Blake recognized. Danielle Howard’s father had looked at him in just the same way with a mixture of fatherly disapproval and righteousness that still angered him.

“I suppose your evening with Mr. Winston isn’t over yet?” he asked Jenna.

“We have a few things to discuss,” she replied softly.

Blake could see Charles Seabring was dying to ask what, but he didn’t. Blake was sure if Jenna had been a few years younger, he would be the one who was leaving first.

“I see,” Seabring said. “Will you stop by the parsonage tomorrow?”

“I told you I would. Shirley’s going to go over everything with me so I’ll know what to do when she leaves. I’ll stop in for breakfast with you and Gary first. All right?”

Her father nodded. “I’ll tell Shirley to make those apple pancakes you like so much. Eight-thirty too early for you?”

“Eight-thirty’s fine.” Jenna walked her father to the door, and at the threshold she gave him a kiss on the cheek. When he didn’t hug her as most fathers would have, Blake decided that the minister wasn’t a demonstrative man.

Two minutes later, Jenna had closed the door and leaned against it, sighing heavily.

“Those apple pancakes come with a price, I bet,” Blake remarked. “Your father’s going to give you the third degree tomorrow, isn’t he?”

“Most likely.”

She looked so troubled, Blake wanted to take her hand. Vetoing that thought, he asked, “Does he know this baby isn’t your husband’s?” He didn’t like using that term, but he didn’t know what else to say.

“Not yet. I’m still trying to absorb it. Dad was so against the insemination in the first place. This is going to really throw him.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid it will put more distance between us.”

“Has the distance always been there?” Blake asked gently. He thought about his own father, the distance between them. After his mother’s death when Blake was twelve, his dad had pulled away from life and drowned his grief in a bottle of gin. Then, Blake hadn’t understood his father’s self-pity and sadness. He himself had dealt with the grief by playing sports harder, boxing a friend’s punching bag and studying late into the night. He and his dad had grown farther and farther apart. Everything had been unsaid for years…so much that should have been said before his father committed suicide. If they’d been able to talk…if Blake had stayed in Fawn Grove and made his father get help…or if he’d returned sooner…

“I can’t remember if Dad was different before my mother died,” Jenna answered, pulling Blake back to the here and now. “I seem to remember that he was warmer, not so serious. But afterward, it was as if he pulled the shutters closed and turned inward. And after we moved here…”

“Why did your dad move here?”

“He said he wanted Gary and me to grow up away from hustle and bustle of city life. He was pastor of a much larger congregation in Pasadena.”

When she came closer to Blake, she apologized, “I’m sorry if he was a bit rude to you. I didn’t know quite how to handle our being together today. He’s never seen me with any man but B.J. And it’s not as if we are together.”

She was enchantingly shy and altogether out of her depth. This time he did take her hand. “Jenna, I know we really haven’t worked out anything today. But I’d like you to think about joint custody.”

He saw the anguish on her face at the thought of not having her baby all the time, and he knew the same turmoil. If he was going to be a father, he really wanted to be a father twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. He’d never been committed to anything but his work, yet now he wanted to be committed to this baby. Everything he’d always worked for suddenly seemed to have a purpose.

“There isn’t going to be an easy solution to this, and I think you know that. So think about joint custody, all right?” he suggested again.

When she nodded, he could see how tormented she was by the idea, but he couldn’t do anything about that.

After she walked him to the door, they stood there in silence. He didn’t really want to go, but he knew he didn’t have a good reason to stay. “I’ll call you.” Taking a business card from the pocket of his slacks, he handed it to her. “Or you can call me. The cell phone number will get you through immediately. I never turn it off.”

She gave him a weak little smile. “Or let it go uncharged.”

He grinned. “Once in a while I forget.”

“I think you’re just trying to make me feel better. You’re the kind of man who never forgets anything,” she murmured.

“One afternoon and you think you have a handle on my character?” He was partly joking, partly serious.

“I don’t know about a handle on your character, but I think I’ve gotten to know a few things about you just as you’ve gotten to know a few things about me—a lot more about me. Rafe’s not going to be happy about that.”

“We have to find a way clear for us that’s going to be good for this baby, no matter what Pierson or my lawyer think.”

“I know that,” she said. “You should have my cell phone number, too.”

“Tell me. I’ll remember it.”

Jenna’s forehead was damp from the heat, her cheeks still rosy as she rattled it off, and he committed it to memory. His physical response to her wasn’t anything he understood. Maybe away from her he could figure it out.

Opening the door, he asked, “When are you going to tell your father about this?”

“When the time is right.”

Gazing into her velvety brown eyes, he wondered how she was going to know. He wanted to take the kiss he hadn’t taken on the boat. He wanted to hold her and let her rest her head against his shoulder. He wanted his child…and that might or might not have anything to do with Jenna.

“Take care of yourself,” he said, his voice husky.

Then he left, before needing and wanting and longing took him back more years than he wanted to count.

When Jenna let herself in the back door of the parsonage the following morning, it was a little after eight and Shirley was already busy in the kitchen. Her father’s secretary and housekeeper was in her late fifties. Her black hair was streaked with gray now and cut in a short hairdo that looked easy to maintain. She wore navy slacks and a paisley blouse this morning with an apron tied around her waist.

“It smells good in here,” Jenna said. The back screen door closed behind her.

“I’m so glad you’re joining your dad for breakfast. He’s on the phone in his office. I’m not sure Gary’s up yet.”

Jenna suspected Shirley had had feelings for her father for many years. But she never let them show, and Jenna didn’t even know for sure if her dad had noticed his secretary was interested in him. “As soon as Gary smells food, he’ll be here.”

Shirley laughed. “You’re right about that. How are you feeling?”

“I’m still having trouble with the nausea now and then, but other than that, I’m feeling great.”

Gary came into the kitchen then, dressed in jeans and a red T-shirt, his dark brown hair tousled as if he hadn’t combed it. “Hey, sis. I didn’t know you were coming to breakfast. What’s the special occasion?”

“No special occasion. I just thought I’d take advantage of Shirley’s cooking before she leaves for a few days.”

“I forgot about that. Dad and I are going to be eating a lot of fast food.”

“I’ve put enough casseroles in the freezer to last until Tuesday. You won’t starve. In fact, I doubt if your father will even miss me.”

Jenna wondered if Gary heard the wistfulness in Shirley’s voice, too.

Her brother was already pouring himself a glass of juice. “Are you still going to help me with that video project tonight?” he asked Jenna.

Picking that moment to walk into the kitchen, their father asked, “What video project?”

Gary’s goal in life was to become a movie director. Their dad disapproved of the idea and did everything he could to squelch it. But Gary had boundless enthusiasm when it came to using a secondhand camcorder he’d saved for and bought when he was ten.

“It’s for that extra class I’m taking this summer,” he said patiently.

“I thought you were taking a history course.”

“It is. I can do a paper or something more innovative on the history of Fawn Grove. I’m going to do a video. But I want to brainstorm with Jenna for the best ideas for scenes. It sure beats doing a research paper.”

Her father sat down at the head of the table.

“I can use this video when I apply to film school,” Gary added, as if testing the water again on the subject.

“You’re not applying to film school. We’ve discussed this.”

“No, we haven’t discussed it. You told me what you thought. You didn’t listen to what I thought.”

Though Jenna gave Gary a warning glance, he didn’t heed it. “So what time tonight, sis?”

“You have to trim the hedge,” her father reminded his son.

“What time do you get off work today?” Jenna asked gently. Her brother was working at the local grocery store for the summer.

“I’ll be off at five-thirty, but till I do the trimming, take a shower, get something to eat…”

“Why don’t you come over to the apartment around seven-thirty? If the air-conditioning still isn’t fixed, we’ll go for ice cream and talk there.”

“Sounds good to me.”

While Jenna and Gary had been working out their plans, Shirley had delivered plates of pancakes, bacon and scrambled eggs to the table. Untying her apron, she said to Jenna, “Just come into the office when you’re through and we’ll get started.”

“I’d like to have a word with my daughter first,” Charles said, eyeing Jenna.

She should have known she wouldn’t be able to escape without the third degree Blake had warned her about. She glanced at Shirley. “I’m sure it won’t take long.”

She wouldn’t let it take long. She wasn’t ready to tell her father that this baby belonged to Blake Winston. Although she’d seen the censure in her dad’s eyes last night at the idea she’d spent time with a man like Blake, she wasn’t going to give him any further information or food for more thought. This was her life and she’d make decisions on her own. In the meantime—

“Shirley, why don’t you sit down and join us for breakfast?” Jenna prompted.

The woman looked shocked. “Oh, I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not? Did you already eat breakfast?”

“Well, no. I just grabbed a banana before I came over here this morning, like I usually do.”

“You made this wonderful food and we’re certainly not going to eat it all. Come on, join us. Don’t you think she should, Dad?”

Gary gave her a what-are-you-up-to-now look.

Charles glanced at Shirley, then Jenna. “If you didn’t have breakfast, Shirley, you should eat something. As Jenna said, there’s plenty here.”

It wasn’t an enthusiastic invitation, but it wasn’t a dismissal of the idea, either. Shirley must have realized that, too, because she gave Charles her broadest smile. “Thank you for asking. I’d like to join all of you.”

After she pulled an extra dish from the cupboard and took silverware from the drawer, she sat around the corner from Charles, next to Gary, and loaded up her plate.

After breakfast, fortunately Jenna was able to evade her father’s questions about Blake. He’d just asked her what kind of business she’d had with Winston when he got a call from a member of his congregation that he had to take. After the call, he told Shirley and Jenna he had to go to the hospital. The look he gave his daughter said they’d return to their discussion later. By then, maybe she’d know what to tell him and be able to explain what had happened at the clinic.

Around eleven, after she and Shirley finished their to-do list, Jenna found herself at loose ends. Needing someone she could talk to and trust about her predicament, she drove out to the Rocky R, hoping Shannon would be free. During the summer, the psychologist lessened her client load and let her partner handle most of it so she could spend more time with her daughters, Janine and Amelia.

The Rocky R was about fifteen minutes outside of Fawn Grove. A wooden archway welcomed Jenna as she drove her car up the lane to the house. Marianne, Shannon’s partner, was working in the corral with a student.

Jenna parked in the gravel area near the two-story house and was relieved to see Shannon’s truck there, too. Her aunt Cora’s car was gone, though, and that could mean Shannon wouldn’t be home, either.

As Jenna ascended the porch steps, she could see that the front door was open. She rang the bell and called, “Anyone home?”

Shannon came to the door dressed in her usual jeans and a blue-and-yellow-plaid, short-sleeved shirt. She was all smiles when she saw Jenna. “Hi, there. I just came in from grooming the horses and washed up. I’m about ready to fix lunch. You want some?”

“Are the girls here?”

Holding open the wooden screen door, she explained, “They went into town with Cora to get groceries. They should be back any minute.”

“This isn’t just a friendly visit,” Jenna said as she stepped inside. “I need perspective on everything that’s happened, and I thought you could give it to me.”

“I’ll do my best. Let’s talk in the kitchen while I make salads.”

Shannon’s kitchen was bright, colorful and welcoming. “Has Rafe told you anything?” Jenna asked her friend.

“He can’t. Confidentiality between lawyer and client. I only know what you told me after your first meeting at the clinic about the baby not being B.J.’s. Rafe paced most of last evening but wouldn’t tell me why. Did that have something to do with you?”

“I…I was with Blake Winston yesterday against Rafe’s advice. Blake thought if we went off somewhere and talked without lawyers, it might make everything easier.”

Shannon gave Jenna her full attention. “Did it?”

She felt her cheeks grow warm. “I don’t know. He’s so— I don’t know how to explain it. He’s just so much a…man.”

Shannon seemed surprised at that and her lips twitched up. “What does that mean?”

As Jenna sank into one of the kitchen chairs at the table, she thought about it, then tried to put those thoughts into words. “He’s so confident but he doesn’t talk much about himself. He’s used to getting his own way and giving orders, but yet he seemed to know how to listen, too.”

“It sounds to me as if you learned a lot about him in one afternoon.”

“He learned a lot more about me. When I told Rafe that last night, he wasn’t happy. But I had to be honest with Blake.”

“Do you think he was honest with you?”

“I think everything he told me was true. From what I gathered, this child means a lot to him. He had his sperm frozen so one day he could hire a surrogate. Apparently he wanted his sperm to be fully potent—” Jenna stopped, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Shannon’s brows arched. “A man like Blake Winston could have any woman he wanted. I wonder why he planned to use a surrogate?”

“I got the feeling that a serious relationship isn’t on his agenda. But he’s not your typical confirmed bachelor if he wants to be a daddy. I think he’s a very complex man.”

After Shannon was quiet for a few moments, she said, “Blake Winston knows powerful people, not just actors and actresses, but politicians, too. From what I understand, he’s got it all—money, good looks…” She paused before she added, “Charm. A man like that could be very persuasive. Do you think he was handling you yesterday?”

“I don’t know. I was upset, that was for sure. Yet I didn’t feel he was charming me. I mean, I felt he was as thrown off balance by all of this as I’ve been. When we were out on his boat—”

“Out on his boat?” Shannon cut in.

“He suggested it. He said it was the best place to relax. And it was. It was so peaceful out there, Shannon. Even though I’d never been on a boat, when he was at the helm, I trusted him.”

“You like the man.”

When she thought about it, she wasn’t sure how to explain what she felt around him. “I don’t know him yet.” Even though Shannon was a good friend, she didn’t feel comfortable telling her about being almost kissed, the feelings that had made her tingle all over. They didn’t seem any more right today than they had yesterday. She already knew what Shannon would tell her—that B.J. was dead and she had to go on. But up until two days ago, she’d intended to keep B.J.’s memory alive forever by having his child.

“Did he make any offers?”

“I think he might agree to joint custody. But I can’t imagine not holding my baby every day, not caring for it every moment.”

“Joint custody doesn’t have to be half a week at his house, half a week at yours. Courts are willing to be flexible if the two of you can be flexible. You have to think about the trauma going to court over this would cause—not only the disruption in your life, but in your child’s life. Custody battles usually turn nasty because both sides want the advantage. Rafe can tell you that better than anyone.”

“Do you think I should agree to joint custody?”

“What I think doesn’t matter, Jenna. You have to solve this in your heart and come up with what you can live with.”

A beep sounded from Jenna’s purse and she fished inside for her cell phone. When she answered it, she expected to hear her father’s voice…or Gary’s. Instead she heard “Jenna? It’s Blake.”

“Oh. Hi.”

“Am I catching you at a bad time?”

She glanced at Shannon. “No. I was just having lunch with…a friend.”

“I won’t keep you. How would you like to come to my house for dinner tonight?”

Dinner with Blake? If she agreed, what tactic would he use tonight to convince her that joint custody was the solution to their dilemma?

Chapter Four

As Jenna drove up the long driveway to Blake’s house that evening, she was more nervous than she could ever remember being. She told herself the anxiety came from the unknown, from the fear that Blake would take her baby. Yet if she was honest with herself, it was more than that. Blake Winston unnerved her.

She parked her car along the circular drive in front of the stately stone house, noticing a white luxury sedan parked there, too. Had Blake invited someone else to join them? Did the car belong to his lawyer? Was she walking into a setup?

Checking her purse for her cell phone, she decided she could always call Rafe. She could always leave. She hadn’t consulted her lawyer about accepting this invitation, though she knew Shannon would tell him Blake had issued it. For some reason she felt she had to meet Blake Winston on personal terms without the impediments of tables and attorneys and official forms.

After she rang the doorbell, she waited, smoothing the blue-striped rayon of her dress over her tummy. “How are we doing, little one,” she asked gently, and smiled. This one-sided conversation would become more than that as soon as her baby was born.

Her baby. Blake’s child.

The door was opened by a petite woman wearing a black pantsuit and white apron. Her hair was styled in a close perm around her head and her red lipstick shouted personality. Her blue eyes twinkled when she saw Jenna. “I expect you’re Mrs. Winton?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Come right in, then. Mr. Winston said I should bring you into the parlor.” She stopped walking for a moment and lowered her voice. “I think he’s tired of talking politics, and he’d much rather sit down and talk with you.” She glanced at Jenna’s belly. “I know all about what’s going on. I heard Mr. Winston talking to his lawyer.” She started walking again.

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