THE ODDS

Of meeting an attractive man at a casino: 1:1

Of having one impulsive night with said attractive man: 5:1

Of falling for your brand-new lover: 10:1

Of becoming pregnant from your one-night stand: 100:1

Of his tracking you down clear across the country: 10,000:1

Of his turning out to be a millionaire: 500,000:1

Of his offering to marry you: 1,000,000:1

Of his actually falling in love: ?????????:1

Bound by The Baby
Susan Crosby

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For the Gilroy connection—

a great place to write a book. Thanks so much.

For Elizabeth Bevarly, Maureen Child,

Anna DePalo, Susan Mallery and Christie Ridgway—five talented and generous women.

Contents

Prologue

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

Coming Next Month

Prologue

January 2, Sterling Palace Hotel and Casino,

Atlantic City, New Jersey

Devlin Campbell had been taking up space at a blackjack table for two hours. By rights he should be down thousands of dollars, since his head wasn’t in the game but on a letter he’d jammed into his inside coat pocket that morning. It took a lot to shake Dev up, but the one-page document typed on a California law firm’s letterhead had shaken him to the core, the repercussions still resonating. It was impossible to forget the letter, so he’d settled instead on ignoring it as best he could.

He swigged his fourth Scotch and water, then glanced at the woman standing at his shoulder, observing him silently. Even before he’d gotten himself semidrunk, she’d been easy on the eyes. Her hair was long, light brown and shiny, her body curvy and tempting, but her smile didn’t reach her beautiful blue eyes. Oddly, her sadness drew him as much as the physical attraction. He didn’t know her name, only that she’d brought him luck since he’d first laid eyes on her more than an hour ago.

He’d been in the hole a few hundred dollars when he’d spotted her walking toward his table. He had gone on full alert, everything about her appealing to him, calling to him. She’d stopped to talk to a passing employee, who had pointed toward someplace in the distance. She’d glanced in that direction then straight at him and seemed to freeze in place. Her eyes widened. For long, increasingly fascinating seconds, neither looked away. The dealer drew him back into the game, and he won the hand.

When he looked toward her again, she was gone, only to pass by him at that very moment, within reach.

“Wait,” he said, his hand on her arm, the contact sizzling. “You’re my good luck charm.”

Amazingly, she waited. When she tried to walk away several times over the next hour, he implored her to stay, although more with his eyes than his words. He dubbed her Ms. Fortune, hoping to make her laugh, but the sadness in her eyes only deepened.

And yet she stayed, even as a small crowd gathered, curious, as his winning streak continued and his bets became more daring. A pit boss watched. Security people milled.

They scrutinized Dev’s every move, but he wasn’t cheating. Wasn’t counting cards, either, although he was proficient at it. He and numbers had a remarkable affinity. However, no one could count cards at the big casinos anymore, their systems too refined for cheaters to prosper. But this time he didn’t care whether he won or lost, didn’t have the mental wherewithal to do anything more than play the game.

Yet all he did was win.

Dev jiggled the ice cubes in his otherwise empty glass, then set it down as the next hand was dealt. He lifted the corners—a jack and a five—the kind of hand any sensible person would’ve stayed on, letting the dealer’s hand determine the outcome, but Dev took a hit. Odds were he would be dealt a face card, putting him well over twenty-one.

He drew a six. Twenty-one. It was that kind of night.

As conversation buzzed around him, Ms. Fortune leaned close. “I really have to go,” she said. “Congratulations.”

He turned his head. Their noses almost touched. “Have dinner with me.”

She pulled back. “I can’t,” she said quietly.

She left. He would’ve had to stop her by force, something he was tempted to do, but instead he watched her disappear into the crowd, wondering what her story was, wishing he could get his hands on that incredible body.

The thrill of the game gone for him, he scooped up his winnings, was accompanied to the cashier and cashed out. Now what? He couldn’t drive home to Philadelphia, not with four Scotch and waters in him.

He could get a room, order room service and face the contents of the letter, and the memories….

He hesitated, a rarity for him. He usually dealt with situations head-on and quickly. But this was going to require some soul searching, and he wasn’t comfortable with that. Damn you, Hunter.

Dev found the front desk, got himself a room on the twenty-fifth floor and headed to the elevator banks. When a bell pinged he moved to stand in front of the arriving elevator. The doors opened. Ms. Fortune stood there.

More than a coincidence, he thought. Fate.

She didn’t make a move to exit. He entered, pushed the button for his floor. The doors closed behind him.

A tight, hot ball formed inside his chest at the pain he saw in her eyes. “Who broke your heart?” he asked.

Her eyes filled instantly with tears.

“Let me fix it,” he said softly.

Wordlessly he moved closer, put his arms around her and gently pulled her close. She resisted, then she pressed her face into his shoulder and slid her arms around him, squeezing tight, a small sob escaping. He brushed his lips to her temple.

All too soon the doors opened.

“Come with me,” he said into her ear. “Stay with me tonight.”

After a moment she nodded then stepped away.

He reached for her hand. “What’s your name?” he asked, holding the door, preventing it from closing.

“Nicole.”

“I’m Devlin.”

Hand in hand, they walked down the hall.

One

May 1, Sterling Palace Hotel and Casino,

Stateline, Nevada

Where was Ms. Fortune when he needed her?

Devlin Campbell studied his surroundings, his equilibrium challenged by the garish neon lights and incessant slot-machine noise. This time he couldn’t win at the blackjack table, not one hand. He wasn’t superstitious, wasn’t blaming his losses on his former lucky charm not being at his side. He knew it was, instead, that sly culprit, jet lag.

And so instead of focusing on the cards, he found himself watching the people milling around, even though there was no reason to continually search the casino for her…Ms. Fortune. Nicole. After all, he’d met her on the other side of the country, ships passing in the night—or more appropriately in this case, ports in a storm, finding comfort and refuge in each other’s arms for reasons neither of them had confided. He hadn’t experienced another night like it, before or since, although he’d gone back twice, hoping…

Yeah, jet lag. With the three-hour time difference in Philadelphia, he’d already put in a full day. Not to mention the fourteen-hour days he’d been working the past month in preparation for this trip.

Dev watched the dealer dispense the cards, then turn up a king for himself. Dev looked at his hand—seven and five.

He didn’t know why he’d come to the casino in the first place. The refrigerator at the lodge where he was supposed to stay had been stocked by an attractive, efficient young woman named Mary, who’d met him with a key dangling off an ornate keychain. He could’ve heated up one of the meals from a local restaurant she’d thoughtfully provided, then gone to bed. Instead he hadn’t even unpacked, hadn’t taken time to tour the spectacular log house.

“Hit or stay, sir?” the dealer asked, awaiting Dev’s decision.

He signaled for a hit. A queen landed on his cards. Twenty-two. Loser. It wasn’t a word associated with the name Devlin Campbell. Ever.

Dev scooped up his few remaining chips and left the table, in need of food. He’d spotted a sports bar earlier where he could order from the bar. He would eat something quick and simple, then go back to the lodge and sleep for at least twelve hours.

The televisions were tuned to a baseball game between his beloved Phillies and the San Francisco Giants. He ordered a beer and checked out the menu, deciding on a burger and fries. He lifted the frosty glass set before him and scanned the room. A woman walked past the entrance. A woman wearing a Sterling Palace uniform. A woman who reminded him of—

Beer sloshed over his hand as he thumped his glass onto the bar, then rushed out. He could see her maybe twenty feet ahead, moving at a quick, steady pace. The same long, shiny, light-brown hair, this time braided neatly. Killer body. Sexy legs that had wrapped around him and held tight.

“Nicole!” he called.

She turned, looked straight at him, hesitated, then picked up speed. What the hell? She was trying to get away? Why? He posed no threat. He hadn’t even learned her last name. Not that it mattered, since he hadn’t been on a second date or spent a second night with a woman in the past couple of years, no matter how beautiful or sexy.

Except…he’d wanted to have a second night with Nicole, who had been one passionate handful, as intense as he, assertive and demanding in a way that had made him forget everything else that night.

Even the letter.

He caught up with her, cupped her elbow. She had no choice but to stop.

“Are you in training for a marathon?” he asked. His gaze slid to her name badge: Nicole, Sacramento, California. He’d had no idea she was an employee of the Palace. She hadn’t been wearing a uniform when they met, but jeans, a dark sweater and boots with heels high enough to bring her close to his height. He’d tugged them off her, then her jeans, exposing knock-out legs…

“Oh, hi,” she said. “Um…”

“Devlin,” he supplied, surprised. She’d forgotten? “January? Atlantic City?”

She tugged her jacket together, freeing herself of his grip at the same time. She was even more voluptuous than he recalled. His memory hadn’t failed him. And he definitely wanted a repeat of their night in Atlantic City.

“I remember,” she said, finally smiling a little but, like the first time they’d met, the smile not reaching her eyes.

“You work here,” he said, looking again at her name badge.

“I’m an assistant manager for the hotel.”

“Were you employed by the Palace in when we met in January?”

“Yes, for the hotel, as head reservations clerk. I wasn’t on duty when we…that night. I transferred here to Tahoe…two months ago.”

She gave the information reluctantly and barely made eye contact.

Both intrigued and irritated, he said, “Have dinner with me.”

“I’m working.” She glanced around, as if seeking someone to come to her rescue, a bit of panic in her eyes.

Surely she wasn’t afraid of him, not after the night they’d shared. “When do you get off?”

She finally looked him in the eyes, perhaps concluding he wouldn’t back down, although nothing in her demeanor indicated she was backing down, either. “At nine.”

Less than an hour. His jet lag vanished at the anticipation. “I’ll wait for you.”

“Please, don’t.” She took a step back. “Please. I have to go.”

Dev let her leave. He returned to the bar just as his food was being set on the counter.

There was something to be said for timing. Food first, then Nicole.

She wouldn’t get far.

He knew where to find her.

Nicole didn’t know for sure that Devlin hadn’t trailed her until she slipped behind the front desk and turned around. Holding her breath, she scanned the crowd. He hadn’t followed.

She slipped into an empty office and shut the door, leaning against the wall beside it, one hand pressed to her mouth, one to her stomach. Light-headed, she made her way to a chair and dropped into it.

What was he doing here?

What was she going to do?

Nicole stared into space until the room came into focus. After a minute she typed his name into the computer on the desk, accessing the reservations data base. No Devlin Campbell. So…he wasn’t a guest. Not yet, anyway. Why was he here? Where was he staying?

For how long?

One of the front-desk clerks, Ann-Marie, came up to the window and made a face. Nicole tried to smile. The clerk opened the door and leaned in.

“Are you okay, Nic?”

I am far from okay. I am worried. And I am scared. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Devlin Campbell was a vision, all right, but completely earthbound. Tall, dark and handsome. High-society born and old-money rich—things she’d learned about him after their night together.

“Did you need something, Ann-Marie?” Nicole saw her recoil. She moved toward the twenty-three-year-old trainee. “I didn’t mean to be so abrupt. I guess I don’t really feel well, after all.”

“Maybe you should just go home.”

Nicole was proud that she hadn’t missed even an hour of work and had no intention of starting now. Anyway, she couldn’t. She was filling in for someone who’d needed to come to work an hour late. She could manage another forty-five minutes.

Under normal circumstances, she would’ve been gone by now, would not have run into Devlin. Once again the hands of fate had grabbed hold of her and not let go. It was too soon. She wasn’t ready—

“Nic?”

She smiled at Ann-Marie. “I’ll be okay until the end of the shift.”

The bubbly blonde smiled back and returned to the desk. Nicole followed. It was Tuesday night. The chances of there being a rush on rooms was slim, although the possibility that Devlin might want one kept her milling around the desk, waiting.

A few minutes before nine, he approached, pointing toward a place where they could talk without being overheard. “If not dinner, then a drink?” he asked.

She shook her head, made herself smile.

“I’ll be here every night until you say yes.”

Every night? Just how long—“Are you here on business?”

“I’m not sure how to answer that. It’s supposed to be pleasure, but it’s someone else’s definition of pleasure. I’ll be here for a month.”

A month! She gripped the counter. Everything would be different in a month. Now what? What should she tell him? And when? She needed to figure out what to say.

But not tonight. Not tonight. Tomorrow would be soon enough. Nothing would change in that time.

“Do you need a ride home?” he asked.

“I have my own car, thanks.”

“I’ll walk you to it.” His tone was more order than offer.

She’d never responded well to orders. “I have something to do first. I’m sure we’ll cross paths another time.” Take a hint, Mr. Campbell. You are dismissed. She turned away, took a few steps.

“What are you afraid of, Nicole?” he asked, his voice carrying enough that Ann-Marie looked in their direction.

She stalked back to him. “Why are you pressuring me?” she whispered harshly.

“That was a helluva night we spent together.”

So. He was looking for an encore. What had she expected? Love at first sight? “That was then. Good night.” She walked away, taking refuge in the office again and watching the lobby through the window. Seconds later she saw him head toward the parking lot exit.

Someone waved a hand up and down in front of the window then stepped into view. She focused abruptly on the man standing on the other side of the door, grinning.

She grinned back. Who could resist? Juan Torres was the sweetest man on the face of the earth. She opened the door.

“Thanks so much for staying the extra hour,” Juan said as he pinned his assistant manager badge onto his jacket. “I owe you.”

“I’m sure I’ll be calling in the marker.” She handed him a sheet listing the problems that had arisen during her shift, then pointed to one in particular. “The guest in 1015 has changed rooms three times since he got here at six o’clock.”

“What’s his problem?”

“Room’s too close to the elevators. View’s lousy. Noisy neighbors.”

“Ah. The usual. Trying to get us to comp him.”

She started to answer, then saw Mr. Room 1015 approaching the desk, his stare steely, his stride determined, obviously back for round four. “Saved by the time clock,” Nicole murmured with relief. “See you tomorrow, Juan.”

Nicole grabbed her purse and called a good-night to the front-desk personnel, glad to be on her way home. She needed to be alone, to think. To come up with the right words to say to Devlin Campbell.

“Wait,” Ann-Marie said, hurrying to catch up, then matching her stride. “I want to make sure you get to your car okay.”

Nicole couldn’t help but smile. Ann-Marie was five years younger, yet she was mothering Nicole. “I’m fine.” She set a hand on her belly, emphasizing her point. “We’re fine.”

“Humor me. I’m headed your way, anyway.”

A few seconds later they reached the exit door to the parking lot. Devlin stepped in front of her, startling her, blocking the exit. His green eyes cold and hard, he stared into hers, then dropped his gaze to her belly.

“Um, you…go ahead,” she said to Ann-Marie, who looked back and forth between Nicole and Devlin.

“Are you sure? I mean—”

“It’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Nicole motioned Ann-Marie toward the door, then waited for Devlin to speak, aiming for calm, but failing. Fate. She couldn’t seem to escape this man.

He moved closer. “Is it mine?”

Two

Dev waited for her response, then waited some more. If her answer was yes, it should’ve come instantly. He took a longer look at her, surprised that he hadn’t noticed right away. But a minute ago when she’d curved her hand over a bump that hadn’t been there when they’d made love in January, he’d calculated the time gap. Four months. His older sister was five months pregnant, her condition a little more visible. Still, every pregnancy was different—and every woman—or so Dev’d heard his sister say.

Maybe it wasn’t his. Maybe his assumption was wrong. Had she turned down his invitation for dinner or a drink because she carried another man’s baby? Had she cheated on that man in January? She’d never told him her last name. Maybe because—

“Were you spying on me?” she asked, shock, or maybe anger, coating her words.

“I was looking out for you. Making sure you made it to your car safely.”

“I get myself safely to my car five nights a week.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

She crossed her arms. “Of course it’s yours.”

Of course? The casino sights and sounds faded as the shock of her acknowledgment ripped through him. Could he believe her?

“You took a long time to answer. Too long,” he said, mimicking her posture.

“Not because I was lying.”

“It’s not looking like that to me, Nicole.”

She finally softened a bit, losing a little of her defensive posture. “I didn’t want to tell you here, among all these people and the noise.”

“You should have told me months ago.”

“I know. Devlin, please. This is where I work. Several coworkers have already walked by and stared.”

“Fine. Let’s go.” He cupped her elbow, propelling her forward, but she broke away.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

No surprise there. “We apparently have a lot to talk about.”

“I agree. But not tonight. I’ll meet you tomorrow.”

He didn’t want to give her time to fine-tune her story. He wanted the raw, uncut version. Otherwise, how could be believe her? “Why didn’t you tell me? You had access to the guest data. I’m sure you found out my name and address.”

“I’ll give you all the details…tomorrow.”

Short of kidnapping her, he couldn’t make her come with him. Security would be all over him. “You won’t skip town?”

“I promise.”

“Like that’s supposed to mean something?”

“You know where I work. How can I avoid you?”

“What’s your last name?”

“Price.”

Ah, the irony. There was going to be a Price to pay for falling into bed with a stranger, and then, like an idiot, not using protection. He pulled out a business card and pen, wrote down the address and phone number of the lodge, then passed it to her. “Here’s where I’m staying. Do you need directions?”

She shook her head. “Every local knows about that lodge. Is it yours?”

“No. What time should I expect you?”

“I have to be at work at noon, so how about eleven o’clock?”

“Ten-thirty.”

“All right. I’ll see you then.”

He opened the door for her, then followed her out.

“I don’t need an escort.” The words came through gritted teeth.

“Tough.”

She stayed silent until they reached her car, a Subaru that looked to be a few years old.

“Four-wheel drive?” he asked.

“Of course. I live in snow country.” She unlocked the door and climbed in.

He waited until she started the engine, then he signaled for her to roll down her window. Her expression reflected her annoyance at being delayed even longer. “Are you seeing someone?” he asked.

Her brows rose. “You mean, dating?”

He nodded.

“No.”

“Were you seeing someone?”

“In January?”

Was she being deliberately obtuse? Probably. She probably wanted to irritate him. She’d succeeded. If he was the father of her child, and she’d known his name and where he lived, and then had decided not to tell him about the pregnancy, he had reason to be irritated. And furious. He could see no justification for her keeping it a secret from him.

He didn’t answer her question about the month but gave her a look he figured she could interpret.

“I was not dating anyone then,” she said, looking straight out the windshield, a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. “And no one since, either.”

Again, no eye contact. He didn’t trust someone who wouldn’t look him in the eyes. In the banking business you learned to trust your instincts about people. Body language spoke loudly. He didn’t like what hers was saying.

He took a step back. “See you tomorrow.”

She didn’t even roll up her window against the chill but backed out of the parking space and sped off.

He watched her go. He’d come to Lake Tahoe as part of a deal he’d made ten years ago. He’d come with a plan to change his life, giving himself the month to work it out, since he was stuck here, anyway.

Now his life was being changed for him.

It wasn’t a good start.

At midnight Nicole wrapped herself in a quilt and stepped onto her porch. She glanced at the thermometer tacked to the porch post—thirty-eight degrees. The roads would probably be icy by morning.

Her breath puffed white in front of her, but the fresh air felt good. Since she’d moved to the area two months ago, she’d come to crave the crisp coldness of Lake Tahoe the way some people yearned for the heat of her hometown, Sacramento. She wouldn’t miss the hundred-degree summers a bit, nor the humidity of Atlantic City, which she’d called home for ten years.

Nicole sat on her porch swing and eased it back and forth, the chains groaning quietly against the overhead hooks, the motion calming.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known this day would come. She’d planned to tell Devlin—just probably not until the baby was born and DNA testing could be done, because she knew he would require that.

She couldn’t blame him for not trusting her. They’d been strangers, without reasons to trust each other. All he knew of her was that she’d fallen into bed with him without knowing him, without any prelude at all. The sex had been like nothing she’d thought herself capable of—anonymous, all-consuming and with little tenderness—exactly what she’d needed that night. And even without the reminder growing inside her, she would’ve remembered everything about those hours with Devlin. She’d cried in his arms more than once. He’d never asked her why but had simply held her, then made love to her—with her—again. And again. And again.

In the morning, she hadn’t sneaked out, but woke him up to tell him thank you, kissing him goodbye. That was supposed to be the end of it. No regrets.

Surprise!

Nicole closed her eyes, keeping the swing moving, remembering the exact moment two months after that incredible night when she’d realized that it wasn’t lingering grief making her feel so miserable, but pregnancy. Now in her second trimester, the morning sickness gone, she felt healthy and strong and capable of dealing with Devlin.

She shivered, but whether from the cold or the anticipation of contending with Devlin, she wasn’t sure. She needed sleep, would try again and hope for better results than the past hour of tossing and turning.

As she stood she saw headlights coming up the road. The vehicle slowed at her driveway, stopped for a few seconds, then turned in and eased up the twenty feet to her house. Not recognizing the big black SUV, she sat again, grateful she’d turned off the porch light.

The car door opened and a man got out. Devlin. She held her breath. What was he doing? How had he found her? Did he plan to bang on the door and wake her from what should’ve been a sound sleep?

Apparently not. He just stood there looking around. After a minute he walked around the side of the house, out of sight, then reappeared shortly.

She wondered about his reaction. She loved her little cabin. It was only seven hundred square feet, but cozy and comfortable and hers—or in twenty-nine years and eleven months it would be hers. She’d always rented before.

Dead leaves and pine needles crunched under Devlin’s shoes as he came close again, this time veering toward the porch. His hands tucked into his jacket pockets, he put a foot on the lowest step but went no farther.

“Looking for someone?” she asked, figuring he would spot her soon enough.

He swore, which made her smile. She liked that she’d been the one to do the startling this time.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, coming up the remaining stairs. “It’s freezing.”

Vanity had her wishing she wasn’t in a robe, flannel pajamas and fuzzy slippers, and free of makeup. “How’d you find me?”

“Typed your name into the White Pages on the Internet. I wasn’t going to knock. I just wanted to see where you live.” Without invitation he sat next to her on the swing. His breath billowed in front of him, as hers did. “You couldn’t sleep, either?”

She shook her head. She was cold to the bone now, but she wasn’t about to let him know that. And her entire body reacted to being so close to his. Memories invaded, warming her, arousing—

“Invite me in,” he said, leaning toward her slightly.

Apparently the word please wasn’t in his vocabulary. “We’ll talk tomorrow, as scheduled,” she said.

“You’re not sleeping. I’m not sleeping. Why not talk now?”

“Because we’re both overtired. One of us is bound to misspeak.”

“I don’t misspeak.”

“Then you must be immortalized in some comic book with those other superhumans.”

“You’re shivering,” he said, ignoring her remark. “It can’t be good for the baby.”

“I don’t do anything to put this child at risk.” What was she doing? Acting like an idiot just to prove a point—that she was doing fine without him and would continue? She’d already been headed into the house when he’d shown up. She was twenty-eight years old and acting like a teenager. “Want some hot chocolate?” she asked.

To his credit he didn’t look smug but stood and held out a hand to her. He’d kept his in his pockets, so they were warm compared to hers. She let go as soon as she was standing, then led the way into the house.

Nicole had almost finished decorating. She had combined yard-sale finds with consignment-shop treasures, had reupholstered, painted and sewed, with only the baby’s room to go.

The living room, dining nook and kitchen were visible from the front entry. She laid her quilt over a chair, tightened the sash on her robe and headed into the kitchen. She pulled out a saucepan, milk and cocoa mix.

“Mind if I look around?” Devlin asked, tossing his jacket atop her quilt.

“Go ahead.” She was glad to have him wander off for a minute. Her bedding was jumbled, but what did it matter? She’d gone to bed, tried to sleep. He would know that. On the other hand, the place was so small he would be back before the milk had even gotten warm.

“Do you own or rent?” he asked, returning and leaning against the refrigerator, watching her.

“Own.”

“It’s small…to raise a child.”

“How much room does a child need?” she countered.

“More than this.”

“I disagree.”

He seemed about to argue but didn’t. “It’s rustic,” he offered after a moment.

She shook her head, amused. He was skirting around saying what he really wanted to, apparently trying to keep the peace between them for the moment. Obviously he wanted something.

“What do you expect, Devlin? It’s a cabin in the woods. Rustic fits the environment,” she said, getting down two mugs. “The roads are plowed in the winter, and I’ve got the fireplace and a generator if the power goes out. It’s perfect.” It’s mine. She poured the hot chocolate into the mugs and passed him one, then cupped hers in both hands, treasuring the warmth. She was sorry she’d let him come in, was too tired to deal with him, just as she’d said.

“Did you know who I was?” he asked.

“I looked you up in the database.” She watched him over the rim of her mug as she took a tentative sip, testing its heat.

“When?”

“In the morning, after I left your suite.”

“Not before?”

She frowned. “Before, I was standing at the blackjack table with you. Before that I was passing through the casino on my way to my boss’s office when I stopped to talk to a friend, a fellow employee. You caught my attention, and I stayed to watch for a minute. Then you wouldn’t let me leave.”

“You were my good luck charm.”

“So you said.” She gestured toward her sofa, which faced the unlit fireplace. “Are you asking if I recognized you or something? Stalked you?”

“Did you?” he asked as they sat at opposite ends.

“The answer is no, to both questions. How could I know who you are? You’re not a celebrity, are you? And even if I’d recognized your name from the reservations—which I wouldn’t have—you didn’t get a room until after I left the table.” She was working up a little righteous anger at his ego. “And how could I accidentally run into you in the elevator? There were twelve banks of elevators. What were the chances the one I was in would stop on the right floor at the right time to run into you again?”

“I—”

“I understand you don’t want to believe this baby is yours,” she said, “but you seem to be an intelligent man, a logical one. Nothing was preconceived,” she added, trying to lighten the mood.

He didn’t smile even a little bit at her joke, hadn’t smiled once since he’d asked if it was his. “It wouldn’t be the first time a woman falsely claimed a child’s paternity.”

Nicole’s attempt at patience evaporated. “DNA testing has taken care of that problem. It makes it impossible to lie.”

“So why didn’t you tell me?” He set his untouched mug on the coffee table. “If you knew you could prove it, why keep it from me?”

“I did try to tell you. I even went to your house.”

“When?”

“The day after I found out. The day before I was set to move here.”

“I wasn’t at home?”

“You pulled up to your house moments after I got there.” She’d parked in front of his Society Hill town house, the beautiful building confirming her fears—that he came from wealth and status. “But you weren’t alone.”

The woman on his arm had worn a short, sexy black dress and very high heels. He’d slipped his coat jacket around her, then kissed her before they’d climbed the stairs arm in arm and disappeared into the house. Soon after, a light had gone on upstairs. He’d stood silhouetted in the shade-drawn window for a long moment and undone his tie, then he’d moved out of sight.

“I waited for hours,” she said. “Eventually I decided it was fate that you weren’t available, because as I sat there I came to the conclusion that you would think I was shaking you down for money. I figured I should wait until…Well, I thought you had a girlfriend. It sure looked like it. I decided to wait until I was settled in here.”

“You’ve been here for two months.”

She nodded. What could she say? She’d been stalling. Who wouldn’t?

He leaned forward, his arms resting on his thighs, his gaze on the fireplace, even though it wasn’t lit. “What do you want from me?”

She sat back. He hadn’t disputed having a girlfriend. “Nothing.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“To quote you from earlier—tough.” Annoyed, she stood. She was too tired to argue with him. “You need to leave now.”

He hadn’t taken even one sip of his drink, but he headed to the door, grabbing his coat along the way. He hesitated, his hand on the doorknob. “Why’d you do it, Nicole?”

“Be specific.”

“Go to my room with me that night. You were upset about something, enough to cry.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, memories slamming into her, then made eye contact. “Yes, I was hurting, and you offered a kind of comfort. But you were upset about something that night, too.”

He nodded slightly. “I’m usually scrupulous about using condoms. And I assumed you were on the Pill. I should’ve asked.”

“I can’t tolerate the Pill, and I should’ve said so. I don’t know why I didn’t, except that I was a mess that night. But you need to know that I’m not sorry.” She curved her hands over the child she already loved and wanted. Not that she’d accepted her situation instantly, but it had taken a surprisingly short amount of time to do so. “I really don’t expect anything from you.”

Hope was another matter altogether, however. She’d felt something powerful that night, a connection she couldn’t even describe. Yes, she hoped.

“A decent man doesn’t abandon a woman pregnant with his child,” he said.

“We’ll come to some agreement, Devlin. But not tonight, please. I’m exhausted.”

He nodded. “I’ll see you at ten-thirty.” He shut the door behind him.

As his car pulled away she poured his cocoa down the drain then leaned against the sink to sip hers. He was a cool one—unemotional and practical—so different from their night at the hotel, when he’d bombarded her with emotion in the form of incredible sex, intense and challenging and satisfying. Tonight she’d seen the businessman. She’d looked him up on the Internet and learned his family’s business was banking, with several branches in the Philadelphia area.

Old money. Old values, too, she guessed. The privileged son of such a family wouldn’t get involved with a strictly middle-class someone like her—except for a night of anonymous sex.

She wondered how he was going to explain it to his family. If he was going to, that is. Maybe he’d offer her a payoff to keep quiet about the child’s paternity. Wasn’t that the usual way of things in his world?

Just how much was her uncomplicated world about to change?

Three

At exactly ten-thirty the next morning, Nicole pulled into the driveway leading to the grand entrance of the lodge where Devlin was staying. She’d fallen asleep easily after he left and slept well, not waking until almost nine. She felt ready to face him.

Like everyone else in the community, she’d been dying to see inside the lodge, situated outside the small community called Hunter’s Landing. The locals had been abuzz about the house—a 9,000-square-foot, multilevel, log-and-stone structure that had taken almost a year to complete. She’d climbed the path to peer inside at the end of construction, amazed by the number of fireplaces and the majestic staircases. Building permits had been issued to a nonprofit corporation in Los Angeles, the Hunter Palmer Foundation, information deemed newsworthy enough for the local paper. But beyond that, details had been stingy. Curiosity had died when the house was completed and nothing happened, except that a man had stayed there in March, then a different one in April.

And now Devlin, who said he would also be staying there for a month.

What had he called his trip? Not business, but someone else’s idea of pleasure? What could that possibly mean? It must somehow tie in with the other solo occupants who’d lived there for only a month. She wondered what the connection was.

Nicole approached the tall oak entry doors flanked by stone columns. She reached to ring the bell but the doors opened and Devlin stood framed there, looking very much like the lord of the manor in his jeans, boots and plaid shirt, the sleeves rolled up. It wasn’t his clothing that labeled him, but his posture and inborn confidence.

She wanted to walk into his arms, as she had in the elevator that night. “Good morning,” she said instead.

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked, stepping aside, giving her room to enter.

“Yes, fine.” She faced an enormous staircase that split into two different directions at the top. “Did you?”

“No.” They moved side by side up the stairs, then up another flight. “Have you eaten?” he asked when they reached the top of the staircase. “Would you like some coffee?”

“I’ve eaten, thanks, and I stopped drinking coffee.”

“Then we’ll go into the great room instead of the kitchen.”

Could she ask for a tour? Maybe she should ask now, in case she never got another chance. But then she saw the view from the great room and stopped to stare. The sight of Lake Tahoe rimmed by trees never got tired, and this particular view was stunning. Boats were already cruising, specks on the lake, including the paddle-wheeler sightseeing boats that ran year-round. She kept promising herself she would take one of the tours but hadn’t gotten around to it.

“Have a seat,” he said.

He’d lit a fire in the immense stone fireplace. She sat in a burgundy leather chair next to it. He didn’t sit but stood, his arms crossed, staring at the fire. She waited, getting more nervous by the second. Which was the real Devlin? Was it the caring, perceptive, sexy man she’d known in Atlantic City or this stern-faced one who seemed to have a steel backbone?

“I’m sorry you didn’t sleep well,” she said into the long silence. She locked her fingers together in her lap. Her waist-band cut into her. If she could just unbutton her skirt…. She slipped her hands under her jacket, behind her back, trying to unobtrusively unfasten—

“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking at her intently.

“Nothing.”

He raised his brows.

She stopped short of sighing. “My skirt is too tight. I’m trying to unbutton it. Okay? Satisfied?”

“You’re cutting off your circulation, which is bad for the baby.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. I’m not endangering the baby. And I’m getting some maternity uniforms today. I seemed to expand all of a sudden.”

His gaze slid down her body. She automatically folded her arms in front of her.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, then left the room.

She let out a long, slow breath, not realizing she hadn’t been breathing normally until she did. Why was she letting him intimidate her? It wasn’t like her at all. He was just a man, flesh and blood.

And what great flesh…

She’d dreamed about him for weeks after their night together, had hunted for him among the blackjack players, hoping he would return. She remembered every detail. How he’d looked naked. The feel and scent of his skin. His amazing hands. The incredible way he used his mouth—everywhere. He’d bombarded her senses, and she’d become someone she’d never known she could be. The night had been all about pleasing—and forgetting. She’d gotten the sense that it had been the same for him.

Nicole decided not to be sitting when he returned. If he was going to stand, so would she. The small, internal rebellion giving her a bit of satisfaction, she wandered closer to the floor-to-ceiling windows. Snow still frosted the mountain peaks but had melted from the ground. The lake was too cold for swimming, but from where she stood, the blue depths looked inviting.

Devlin came up beside her and passed her a piece of paper. “I need you to fill this out.”

There was no heading, just a questionnaire with spaces for her answers: name, address, birth date, social security number and other personal information. Like a credit application or something.

“What’s this for?” she asked.

“My lawyer wants to run a background check.”

“On me?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, your lawyer wants it.” She almost laughed at the absurdity. While she had no doubt his lawyer had provided the form, Devlin wanted it. Wanted her to sign on the bottom line giving him permission to delve into her private life—which he would undoubtedly do with or without her permission. It was just tidier with her permission.

“If we’re going to be married,” he said, “I need to know who you are.”

The words on the page blurred. She lifted her head. His jaw flexed, his eyes bored into her. She wished she knew him well enough to interpret his expression. Accusation? Anger? She wasn’t sure.

“Who said anything about marriage?”

“No child of mine will be born out of wedlock.”

“So you believe the child is yours?”

He barely hesitated. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“For the same reason I slept with you that night.”

“What reason was that?” she asked, intent.

“Damned if I know. Instinct.” He paused. “Look, Nicole, DNA testing will prove paternity. Anyway, I’m laying the groundwork for our union so there will be no delays later.”

How romantic. The thought stung. Just the kind of marriage proposal every woman hopes for. “This isn’t the Dark Ages.”

He smiled slightly, coolly. “Feels like it to me.”

Well, she hadn’t expected him to be thrilled, after all. “I expect you to fill out one of these forms, too,” she said just as coolly. “For my lawyer.”

His mouth quirked. In appreciation? Admiration? Irritation? She didn’t know, couldn’t tell if he was laughing or mocking.

“That’s fair,” he said.

“I’ll bring your form back to you tomorrow. I expect yours to be ready then, too.”

“I’ll stop by the hotel when you get off work, and we can exchange papers.”

“Mine won’t be ready by then. I’ll do it at home tonight, after work.”

“You have a lunch break, don’t you?”

“I eat on my lunch break. And put up my feet. And relax. It’s good for the baby.” Ha! He couldn’t argue that point.

He crossed his arms. “I also want your doctor’s name and number. When is your next appointment?”

“In three weeks. I was just there last week.”

“Make an appointment for us to see him together this week.”

“Her. My obstetrician is a she.” No wonder she hadn’t told him yet about the baby. Subconsciously she’d known he was sexist and paternal and accustomed to having someone jump at the snap of his fingers. Well, not this someone. “When things are more settled with us, I’ll make that appointment.”

“Then I’ll go without you. I have questions.”

“Which she won’t answer without my permission.”

“A reasonable person wouldn’t have any problem sharing the information I need as the father of this child.”

What was left of her patience went up in smoke. So now she was witless? She’d tried to be understanding, she really had. “I’ll drop off the paperwork tomorrow on my way to work,” she said, then walked past him a few feet before stopping and turning back.

“Here’s a hint to getting to know me, Devlin. Try talking to me. With me.” She went down the stairs and out of the house. It would take thirty minutes to drive to the Sterling. Time enough to calm down before starting work.

He just needed time, too. She’d been able to come to terms with the baby and all the changes it would entail. So would he.

She hoped.

Dev watched her drive off. She didn’t burn rubber to get away, didn’t even speed, but he knew she was angry. He didn’t blame her.

While no one would accuse him of being easygoing, he wasn’t usually a jerk. He’d also never been responsible for a pregnancy before. But he was now—to a woman he knew only sexually.

He shoved his fingers through his hair, clasped his hands at his nape and blew out a slow breath. Exhaustion was too mild a word for what he was feeling. He hadn’t slept a minute last night.

He’d made this trip—this forced trip—with the intention of firming up a plan to redirect his career. He’d reached a point where he could afford to take some risks, was willing to risk what he’d earned. He planned to get out of the family business, where he’d been stagnating, a realization brought home to him when he received the letter in January that would send him to Lake Tahoe for the month of May.

He needed to be his own boss. He had achieved huge success for the bank, beyond what his father or grandfather had done before him. Now he wanted individual success, not just financially but personally. He’d been aiming toward it all his adult life. But how could he take that risk now, with a child to provide for?

And a wife.

That much he’d decided during the night. Nicole would marry him, period—even though his lawyer had tried to talk him into waiting until the child was born.

Maybe he was being a fool. Maybe it was old-fashioned and inflexible, but some values were ingrained too deeply to be ignored, like not wanting his child born out of wedlock.

Sometimes Dev felt constrained by the conservative label he lived with, personally and professionally. But when people entrusted you with their money, they expected someone who might take a few risks, but only calculated ones. Losing someone else’s money was a direct path to career suicide.

His expertise was in commercial real estate investments, and he had a reputation for having the Midas touch, even with his hands tied by the bank’s board of directors some of the time. Another reason for him to go off on his own.

Dev climbed two flights of stairs to the loft. When he’d wandered through the house during his sleepless night, he’d come upon the well-equipped office on the top floor. He’d also discovered a corkboard on the wall onto which photographs were tacked, all reminders of a time when his life had been carefree. During college he’d been required to have good grades and establish lifelong contacts. Beyond that, his parents asked little. Until he graduated. Then everything changed.

Dev hadn’t looked too closely at the photos last night, having too much on his mind to clutter it with the past. But as he glanced at them now, he realized he didn’t know much about any of the men portrayed anymore. He remembered a remarkable camaraderie, but he couldn’t pick out one as a best friend at the time, except Hunter. Maybe Ryan…

He turned his back on the past and put himself squarely in the present again by sending an e-mail to his lawyer asking him to fill out the form for Nicole and fax it back, then he grabbed a cup of coffee and headed onto one of the decks overlooking the lake. The direct heat of the sun turned the chilly air bearable. He sat on a lounge chair and watched the boats make their way across the expanse of water.

As exiles went, Lake Tahoe was more than palatable. He’d intended to spend some of his time setting up his career move and some exploring the region, maybe throw in a little gambling now and then.

He hadn’t counted on…Nicole. In the past few months he’d wished for more information to go on to find her, but she had seemed to be a tourist, like him. A couple of times during their night together he could’ve sneaked a look at her wallet and learned more about her, but he’d resisted. They’d had a tacit agreement that they would share that night only, each of them easing an unspoken need.

But she had dropped into his mind since then, memories of her lush body tantalizing, her lips soft and hungry. She hadn’t hesitated, hadn’t just taken, but had given in ways he’d dreamed about since. A true partner, physically.

He’d wondered why she cried but figured she would tell him if she wanted to. She didn’t. Nor had she yet.

What could have been so horrific that she would forget she should’ve insisted on using birth control? She was obviously intelligent.

He could say the same thing about himself, of course. It was stupid not to have taken care of the protection. Stupid. Which only proved how much Hunter’s letter had affected him that day.

He should’ve just stayed home and gotten drunk instead.

Four

A couple of minutes before eight that evening, Nicole glanced across the lobby and saw Devlin leaning against a column, watching her. Although seeing him so suddenly startled her, she wasn’t really surprised, having anticipated his showing up at some point.

When she clocked out she didn’t try to avoid him but walked over to where he stood. “Did you get some sleep?” she asked.

“Yes. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. I guess you’re here to walk me to my car again.”

“You guessed right.”

“And follow me home.” She didn’t know why that comforted her, but it did. She’d calmed down significantly since she’d left him earlier in the day. They were both stuck in the same pool of quicksand. It was up to them to help each other out of it.

Plus she’d decided it was kind of nice not to be figuring things out alone anymore.

“I want to pick you up and drive you to work and back from now on.”

Temptation reared its hopeful little head. They could spend time together…. “There’s no need,” she said.

“I know. But I think you’d like it, too.”

How did he see inside her like that? He’d done so from the beginning, from that moment in the elevator. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“How about dessert somewhere?” he asked, switching gears easily.

“I’m not hungry, thanks.”

“Then keep me company while I eat.”

“What’s this about, Devlin?”

“Conversation. Getting to know you.”

She studied his bland expression, catching the barest twinkle in his eyes. Since she was the one to suggest it, she couldn’t very well turn him down—and he knew it. “Okay. But not here.”

“Name the place.”

“There’s a coffee bar in another casino where they also serve dessert.”

“We’ll take my car and come back for yours later.”

“Actually, we can walk. It’s less than a block away.”

He took her down jacket and held it for her, lifting her braid out of the way then letting it fall against her back. She felt his nearness all the way down her back as if he’d spooned with her, just like in Atlantic City during the brief time they’d slept. Back then she’d felt safe in his arms. Comforted.

It wasn’t what she felt this time.

He made small talk as they walked, asking about her day, listening to her stories. Something unusual happened most days.

“Do you gamble?” he asked.

“Nope.”

“Not allowed to?”

“It’s an unspoken rule. It wouldn’t be good, whether we won or lost.”

“How did you end up in Atlantic City?”

They both had their hands stuffed into their pockets against the cold. She was grateful he wasn’t pushing a physical connection.

Liar. You want that more than anything.

She ignored the honest voice in her head. “My best friend from high school and I decided to take the summer after graduation to see the country. We ran out of money in Atlantic City, found jobs, then stayed. I stayed, that is. She saved enough to get herself home and off to college. I had no college plans.”

“Wouldn’t your parents have sent you the money to get home?” he asked.

The surprise in his voice told her a lot about him. “I was being independent.”

“I see.”

“Anyway, I liked the city. My job was okay, and I found an apartment to share with two other girls. After a couple of years, the Sterling hired me. They’ve been good to me. And good for me. I’d been very sheltered at home.”

“Were your parents disappointed you didn’t go to college?”

“I imagine so. They never said so, not directly. How about you? Where did you go?”

“Harvard.”

Harvard. Of course. The divide between them cracked wider. The only thing they had in common was the child they’d created.

Don’t forget sexual compatibility. The words didn’t whisper but yelled in her head. Since they’d bumped into each other last night she’d been remembering even more of the details of that night in Atlantic City. But sexual compatibility wasn’t enough to make a relationship work beyond the short term.

“Why did you come to Tahoe?” she asked, as he held the casino door open. She pointed in the direction of the coffee bar.

“To honor a pact I made during college.”

The casino noise prevented easy conversation. They reached the coffee bar and examined the desserts in the display case. A mile-high decadent chocolate cake called her name, but she resisted, determined to keep her pregnancy weight under control. “I’d like a hot chocolate,” she said to the clerk.

“Coffee and a piece of that,” he said when it was his turn, pointing to the slice of heaven Nicole had been coveting.

Great. Now she was going to have to sit across from him while he indulged himself. It blackened her mood.

They sat at a table tucked in a corner. As soon as they were settled he produced two forks, giving one to her. He smiled slightly as if daring her to argue that she didn’t want any.

She supposed she could manage a bite or two. After all, how bad could it be if they shared? A quarter of a piece wouldn’t hurt anything.

Well, maybe half, she amended after one bite.

She glanced at Devlin. His expression was just short of smug.

“It’s good,” he said, toasting her with his cake-laden fork. “Reminds me of the cake we had in Atlantic City.”

She’d forgotten about it. During the middle of the night he’d called room service and ordered a couple of sandwiches and a piece of chocolate cake, her absolute favorite dessert. She’d devoured most of it, making orgasmic sounds of appreciation, which he’d commented on. He’d scooped frosting onto his finger and dragged it between her breasts and down her abdomen, then licked it off….

She met his gaze—direct and bold. He remembered, too, and had no doubt ordered the cake to make her remember.

She picked up her mug. “What kind of pact did you make?”

His eyes sparkled at her change of subject. “During my freshman year I met a fellow freshman named Hunter Palmer. He was charismatic, the kind of guy who could get you to break rules and take adventure to a whole new level. He accumulated friends, of which I was one. Because of that association I also made friends with five other freshmen he’d brought into his circle.”

He sipped his coffee, his eyes unfocused, as if living that time again.

“He sounds special,” Nicole said.

“Yeah. I’d had good friends before, but nothing like that—a group of guys I could count on. Eventually we called ourselves the Seven Samurai. One night we’d been partying enough to have covered our dining table with empty beer bottles, and we pledged to build a lodge on the shores of Lake Tahoe ten years after graduation. Each of us promised to spend a month there, then we would all gather after the last month for a get-together, to celebrate our friendship and successes. Hunter probably chose Hunter’s Landing as his idea of a joke.”

“Why spend a whole month?”

“We thought that a decade later would be a good time to examine where we’d been and where we should be going. A month seemed like the right amount of time. We were twenty-two. What did we know?”

“So you’re supposed to be assessing your life while you’re here?”

“Pretty much.”

“And you all own the lodge?”

“No. In fact I’d forgotten about it. I’ve had very little contact with the guys since graduation.”

“There’s a story there.”

“Hunter died.”

He said it matter-of-factly, but his grip tightened on his mug and his jaw hardened. “Suddenly?” she asked.

“He had melanoma, but it wasn’t caught until it was too late. He died right before graduation.”

“It devastated you.”

He nodded.

“So how did the lodge come about?”

“Hunter left instructions in his will. He created a foundation to have the lodge built in time for our pact to be carried out, then at the end of the six months, the lodge will become a respite house for cancer survivors and patients, plus twenty million dollars will be disbursed to charity. The only requirement is that the six remaining Samurai each stay here a month, as we all promised.”

Amazing. Twenty million dollars given away, just like that. And the lodge must have cost millions. “That’s a lot of money.”

“Hunter’s family is in pharmaceuticals and personal-care products. You’d recognize the brands.”

It felt nice having a regular conversation with him, Nicole thought, leaning back, sated with cake and cocoa. “Why didn’t you all remain friends? I would think that would bind you even further.”

“I don’t think we knew how to deal with it. No one expects a twenty-two-year-old to die like that. Plus we all graduated immediately after and went our separate ways, onto lives and careers. We exchanged Christmas cards for a few years, but even those stopped.”

“Are you looking forward to seeing them again?”

“In some ways. It seems like taking a step back instead of forward.”

“So, you don’t know if they’re married or have children or how their careers have gone?”

“After I got my letter from Hunter’s estate lawyer in January I checked them out on the Internet. Everyone is successful.”

Awareness clicked on a light of understanding in her head. “You got your letter in January?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll take a wild guess and say it was the day we met.”

He laid a hand on top of hers. “About that night…I think—”

“Hi!”

Intent on Devlin, Nicole hadn’t noticed Ann-Marie come up to the table.

The young woman stuck out a hand toward Devlin. “I’m Ann-Marie. Nicole and I work together.”

He released Nicole’s hand to stand and shake Ann-Marie’s. “I remember seeing you last night.”

Nicole noticed he didn’t introduce himself. She glanced at her watch. “Oh, look at the time. We need to get going,” she said to Devlin, standing up. “See you tomorrow, Ann-Marie.”

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