“I don’t regret anything that happened last night,” Cecilia said.

Geoff reached out to cover her hand with his. “It was one of the best nights I’ve had in a very long time.”

She laced her fingers with his. “For me, too.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I’m sort of afraid of ruining everything now.”

“Not possible.”

“You haven’t heard what I want to ask you yet.” In response to Geoff’s wary expression Cecilia laughed a little and held up her hands. “Relax. I’m not asking you to marry me. Our night together hasn’t turned me into a starry-eyed romantic with dreams of a happily-ever-after.”

“So what is this request?”

She drew a deep breath, then blurted the words before she lost her nerve. “I want you to help me make a baby.”

Dear Reader,

It’s that time of year again—when every woman’s thoughts turn to love—and we have all kinds of romantic gifts for you! We begin with the latest from reader favorite Allison Leigh, Secretly Married, in which she concludes her popular TURNABOUT miniseries. A woman who was sure she was divorced finds out there’s the little matter of her not-so-ex-husband’s signing the papers, so off she goes to Turnabout—the island that can turn your life around—to get her divorce. Or does she?

Our gripping MERLYN COUNTY MIDWIVES miniseries continues with Gina Wilkins’s Countdown to Baby. A woman interested only in baby-making—or so she thinks—may be finding happily-ever-after and her little bundle of joy, with the town’s most eligible bachelor. LOGAN’S LEGACY, our new Silhouette continuity, is introduced in The Virgin’s Makeover by Judy Duarte, in which a plain-Jane adoptee is transformed in time to find her inner beauty…and, just possibly, her biological family. Look for the next installment in this series coming next month. Shirley Hailstock’s Love on Call tells the story of two secretive emergency-room doctors who find temptation—not to mention danger—in each other. In Down from the Mountain by Barbara Gale, two disabled people—a woman without sight, and a scarred man—nonetheless find each other a perfect match. And Arlene James continues THE RICHEST GALS IN TEXAS with Fortune Finds Florist. A sudden windfall turns complicated when a wealthy small-town florist forms a business relationship—for starters—with a younger man who has more than finance on his mind.

So Happy Valentine’s Day, and don’t forget to join us next month, for six special romances, all from Silhouette Special Edition.

Sincerely,

Gail Chasan

Senior Editor

Countdown to Baby
Gina Wilkins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Sally—she of the untapped wisdom.

GINA WILKINS

is a bestselling and award-winning author who has written more than sixty-five books for Harlequin and Silhouette. She credits her successful career in romance to her long, happy marriage and her three “extraordinary” children.

A lifelong resident of central Arkansas, Ms. Wilkins sold her first book to Harlequin in 1987 and has been writing full-time since. She has appeared on the Waldenbooks, B. Dalton and USA TODAY bestseller lists. She is a three-time recipient of the Maggie Award for Excellence, sponsored by Georgia Romance Writers, and has won several awards from the reviewers of Romantic Times.

Merlyn County Regional

Hospital Happenings

Welcome to Lily Cunningham, public relations director extraordinaire! Lily’s experience—from dining with royalty to saving billion-dollar corporations—is sure to bring prestige to our hospital and the new biomedical research facility sponsored by Dr. Mari Bingham. If you see Lily in the halls—she’ll be wearing her signature color: red—give her a warm Kentucky hello!

Congratulations to Eric Mendoza on his promotion—and his engagement to expectant mother Hannah Bingham!

If anyone has seen any strange behavior at the Foster Clinic or in the pharmacy department of the hospital in the last few weeks, please report this to Dr. Mari Bingham or her receptionist immediately!

And thanks to midwife Cecilia Mendoza for her hard work and dedication to the Foster Clinic. Please congratulate her on ten years of caring for Merlyn County’s mothers and babies!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter One

The slippery seven-pound boy squirmed in Cecilia Mendoza’s arms. Pink legs flailed with his irritation at being shoved out of his warm, liquid cocoon and into the openness and light of the clinic birthing room. A series of shrill screams issued from his toothless mouth, and his scrunched face was beet red with fury.

Cecilia thought he was absolutely beautiful. With hidden reluctance, she transferred the child into the arms of his exhausted but eager mother. The stocky young father hovered close by, his ruddy face split with an enormous, proud, and just a bit nervous, smile.

Pushing her own emotions to the back of her mind, Cecilia concentrated on her job as a certified nurse midwife, turning her attention to the routine follow-up procedures of this blessedly complication-free delivery. Her workday was almost over. She couldn’t go straight home, unfortunately, because of the reception for Lillith Cunningham, the new public relations director for the Foster Midwifery Clinic and the Bingham Midwifery School, both affiliated with the regional hospital in Merlyn County, Kentucky. The reception was to begin at six. Cecilia wasn’t particularly looking forward to the event, but she felt obligated to drop in.

She could contemplate her feelings of wistfulness, envy and frustration later, when she was alone in her house, longing for a child of her own. As her thirty-eighth birthday loomed closer, she couldn’t help wondering if she would ever know the joy of holding her own baby.

Geoff Bingham’s bedroom smelled of freshly applied orange-oil wood polish and a hint of woodlands-scented air freshener. As he precisely knotted an expensive red silk tie around the neck of his tailored white shirt, he wondered if he was only imagining the slightly musty scent of a long-unoccupied room beneath the more pleasing fragrances.

His efficient housekeeper made sure his condo was always clean and welcoming when he returned from one of his many long business trips, but sometimes the place still felt foreign to him. Like just another of the series of hotel suites and corporate apartments he slept in during his travels—when his demanding job allowed him to sleep, of course.

Picking up the hand-tailored jacket that had been laid out on his bed, he shrugged into it as automatically as a mechanic might don his blue cotton work shirt. As far as Geoff was concerned, this fifteen-hundred-dollar suit was merely a business uniform, no more indicative of his true personality than his immaculately polished wing-tip shoes. The party for which he was dressing was just another business meeting to him, at which he would smile and mingle and shake hands with the smooth skill he had spent the past ten of his thirty-two years developing.

Squeezing the tight muscles at the back of his neck with his left hand, he could only hope the reception for the hospital’s new public relations director wouldn’t last long. All he wanted to do was get this over with, come back to his citrus-scented condo and crash in the den with a beer, some chips and his treasured Taylor guitar. An evening of quiet solitude sounded very good to him right now. But he would do his duty. He always did.

“So, Geoff.” A florid-faced man in a suit that was too tight across the belly clapped him on the back with enough force to make him almost stagger. “How long are you in town for this time?”

With the benefit of a decade of practice, Geoff held on to his pleasant smile, which was, to him, as much a tool of his trade as a hammer was to a carpenter. “Looks like I could be around for a while this time.”

“That’s good to hear.” Bob Howard slapped Geoff’s back again. “Maybe we can hit the golf course. Not this weekend, I’m afraid. The wife’s sister is coming for a visit, and I’m expected to entertain my moron of a brother-in-law.”

That was one thing Geoff could identify with. Family obligations. His entire life revolved around them. “Maybe some other time.”

“I’ll give you a call.”

Geoff could think of a couple dozen things he would rather do than spend an afternoon golfing with Bob Howard—root canals and ditch digging among them—but since Howard’s bank was a major financier for Bingham Enterprises, he spoke warmly. “I’ll look forward to it.”

Howard moved on, and Geoff took advantage of the moment of peace to take another bracing swallow of his lemonade. Around him various members of his family—his father, his grandmother, his sister, his cousins—worked the crowd attending the reception for the new public relations director for Merlyn County Regional Hospital.

The hospital had been founded by Geoff’s grandparents and was still family controlled, along with their other local and international business interests. The Binghams took their responsibilities to the corporation and to the community very seriously. And to the rest of the family, of course.

Even Geoff’s late, wild, uncle Billy’s illegitimate offspring—the ones he had acknowledged, anyway—had certain expectations thrust upon them, whether they wanted them or not. Two of those cousins, Dr. Kyle Bingham and Hannah Bingham-soon-to-be-Mendoza, were in attendance at this affair, doing their part to promote the hospital and its upcoming public relations campaign.

Geoff’s gaze lingered on Hannah, who was several months along in her pregnancy. She had very recently announced her engagement to Eric Mendoza, a rising young executive in Bingham Enterprises. The couple looked radiantly happy, and the engagement had been approved by Geoff’s father and grandmother.

In their opinions, Hannah needed someone to help her raise the child she had conceived in an ill-advised affair several months ago, and young Eric needed a wife to help him further his career. This marriage was the ideal solution, as far as they were concerned.

It wouldn’t be long, Geoff feared, before they turned their attentions back to him. Ever since his thirtieth birthday two years ago, they had been pressuring him to find a suitable bride and start producing more Binghams.

While Geoff had no problem with the idea of fatherhood, the prospect of marriage did not appeal to him at all. As it was now, his free time was almost nonexistent. The opportunities were extremely rare for him to do whatever he felt like doing without taking anyone else’s needs or wishes into consideration. In his opinion, a wife was simply someone else who would claim a right to his time and attention.

Maybe he could subtly redirect the family’s matchmaking efforts to his sister Mari, he mused. After all, she was thirty-four and firmly established as an M.D. and director of the Foster Midwifery Clinic and the Bingham Midwifery School. Sure, she was busy with her duties and her plans for the biomedical research center she dreamed of founding here in town, but she was no busier than Geoff, whose primary job was to secure funding for those grandiose plans and to keep the other Bingham Enterprises interests viable in an increasingly tough international market.

Someone walked by nibbling on a fat, juicy-looking chocolate-dipped strawberry, reminding Geoff he hadn’t eaten in a while. He glanced toward the refreshments tables, where a small crowd of attendees munched on summer party fare. His gaze lingered on a beautiful brunette in a flame red dress.

Cecilia Mendoza. A prominent midwife at the clinic, Eric’s sister was an extremely attractive woman Geoff had admired several times but had never actually met.

Maybe he would sample the treats before he made his escape from this boring affair.

The reception was held in the atrium of the administration and education building on the hospital campus. Four stories high, the fully enclosed atrium was a haven of glass, greenery, statuary and fountains. Wrought-iron tables, chairs and benches were scattered artfully around the stone floors. Greenery cascaded from the balconies of the floors above, leading the eye to the angled glass roof high above their heads. Accessed by gently rising ramps, another balcony circled the main atrium, holding more tables and chairs and providing a second level for entertaining and activities.

There was very little empty space, Cecilia noted as she entered the atrium from the back hallway that led into the main clinic building. When Mari Bingham arranged an official event, few members of her staff or the surrounding business community failed to make an appearance.

This affair had been billed as an informal after-hours welcome for the new PR director. Cecilia was a bit late because she had taken the time to change out of her wilted scrubs and into a bright red sheath dress she’d chosen to counter the weariness of a long day’s work. Sleeveless and scoop-necked, it fit closely to her hips, then flared out just a little and fell to her knees.

She had reluctantly swapped her comfortable walking shoes for a pair of black high-heeled sandals, and her feet were already protesting. Several tendrils of dark hair had escaped the upswept style she had worn for convenience, tickling the back of her neck and her freshly made-up cheeks when she turned her head to greet friends and business associates who had already gathered around the refreshments tables.

In deference to the heat of a July evening, the caterers served frosty lemonade, iced raspberry tea and light snacks—chilled shrimp, crisp vegetables, tiny sandwiches, fresh fruits and flaky pastries. Cecilia looked longingly at the food. She had worked through her usual lunchtime—the McAllister baby having chosen just then to make her appearance—and she was hungry. But since she had never quite mastered the art of eating, mingling and conversing all at the same time, she settled for a clear-plastic tumbler of lemonade and a single chocolate-dipped strawberry, which she barely had time to eat before a deep, masculine voice spoke from close behind her.

“I don’t know about you, but I wish they’d served pizza and cheeseburgers. It would take a whole platter full of these little munchies to fill me up.”

Uncertain if he was talking to her, she turned her head to make sure. She found herself looking straight into the clear hazel eyes of Geoff Bingham, a top executive of Bingham Enterprises and brother to the administrator of the clinic where Cecilia had spent her entire career as a certified nurse midwife.

She identified him immediately, of course—few people in these parts would not—but she had never actually spoken to him before. “I think it would be hard to gracefully eat pizza and cheeseburgers standing in a crowd of dressed-up people,” she replied in the same light tone he had used. And then she smiled. “But it does sound good.”

Geoff studied the selection of finger foods spread on the tables and shook his head. “It all looks very nice, but there’s no real food here. I’ve got to talk to Mari about putting out buckets of chicken or stacks of burritos or something for the next official event.”

Cecilia couldn’t help but laugh at the image of this restrained and proper crowd munching on chicken legs and burritos. “I’m sure that’s going to happen.”

His gaze drifted down to her mouth. “So, do you have any recommendations for a guy who’s very close to starvation?”

He was definitely flirting with her, and she wasn’t too tired to appreciate the attentions of such a handsome and charming man. It had been too long since she had been studied with such open masculine approval—and not in an insulting way, she decided, but decidedly flattering. This brief exchange would give her something to smile about later while she was sitting alone in her house with her feet up and a cup of coffee beside her.

She glanced at the tables again before answering him. “I don’t see anything particularly filling here, but I can recommend the strawberries. The one I had was delicious.”

He reached past her to pluck one of the chocolate-dipped berries from a serving platter. His arm almost, but not quite, brushed against her with the movement. Close enough to make her pulse trip a bit, in a very pleasant way. She couldn’t help watching as he took a bite of the fruit, and she found herself moistening her own lips with the tip of her tongue.

Goodness, but this was one fine-looking man.

“You’re right,” he told her, his voice low and intimate, as if they were the only ones present in this crowded room. “This is good. Want a bite?”

The blatant entendre earned him a look of reprimand, and then a smile she made no effort to repress. “Thanks, but I’ve already had one.”

“A woman of great willpower, I see.”

Cecilia gave him a look from beneath her eyelashes. “When I choose to be.”

His left eyebrow rose. “So…”

“Geoff. Hey, Geoff, good to see you.” A balding man whose suit hung loosely on his bony physique peered over the tops of half glasses as he spoke, seemingly unaware of Cecilia’s presence.

Recognizing the newcomer as a prominent local business owner, and guessing Geoff was there specifically to mingle with potential investors in Mari’s planned biomedical research center, Cecilia tactfully slipped away. She was still smiling when she joined a group of her co-workers in another corner of the room.

“Was that Geoff Bingham you were flirting with over there?” Vanessa Harris, a registered nurse, instructor, and Cecilia’s closest friend in the clinic, asked.

“Unless you know some other rich, movie-star-gorgeous guy that might have made an appearance here today,” Cecilia quipped in return.

“Well, did you slip him your phone number?”

“Gee, I would have, but you know my policy. I never date men who are prettier than I am.”

Vanessa laughed, and, after a moment, Cecilia joined in. As much as she had dreaded this reception, it was surprisingly enjoyable. Amazing what a few minutes of flirting with a handsome man and laughing with a friend could do to turn around a trying day.

“Have you met the new PR director yet?” Vanessa asked in a low voice.

Cecilia stopped casting what she hoped were discreet looks toward the man still standing near the food tables and turned back to her friend. “No. Have you?”

Vanessa’s nod made her trademark large hoop earrings sway against her cheeks. “This afternoon.”

Tall and lushly rounded, Vanessa was a striking woman who would stand out in any crowd, even if it weren’t for her penchant for brightly colored clothing. She wore her black hair cropped close to her head. Her nearly black eyes glittered with a sharp wit and avid interest in her surroundings, and her flawless, chocolate-toned skin was taut and smooth. Having noted the faintest hint of developing laugh lines around her own brown eyes and full mouth, Cecilia could only hope she would look as good when she was forty-five.

Vanessa’s attractiveness wasn’t all Cecilia envied. Her friend was also the mother of four delightful children—two boys and twin girls, all under twelve. Vanessa was even lucky enough to have found one of those rare men who was deeply committed to his family and would probably stay with them through thick and thin, unlike so many of the men Cecilia had encountered.

“What did you think of Lillith Cunningham?” she asked, trying to put her growing obsession with children and motherhood out of her mind for the remainder of the evening—or at least until she got home.

“She’s interesting,” Vanessa replied. “Kind of artsy looking, you know? Flowing clothes in bright colors, jingling jewelry. No doubt she comes from money, but she’s got a nice smile, so maybe the wealth hasn’t gone to her head.”

“Mari wouldn’t hire a snob to promote the clinic,” Cecilia said, confident that she was right. Dr. Mari Bingham certainly fit the description of a woman who had been raised in wealth and privilege, but she still knew how to work hard and mingle comfortably with people of all circumstances. Anyone who wanted to adequately represent the Foster Midwifery Clinic, with its huge diversity of patients and associates, would have to possess the same qualities.

“You’re probably right. Mari’s a good judge of character—most of the time,” Vanessa added in a mutter.

Their conversation was interrupted when Milla Johnson, a young midwifery student, greeted them quietly. Pretty and competent, Milla was one of the shining stars of the midwifery school, and Cecilia had grown quite fond of her. She couldn’t help noticing that Milla looked a bit tired this evening, despite what appeared to be a fresh application of blusher and lipstick.

Milla was definitely showing the effects of the strain of her demanding job, in addition to the worry of a malpractice lawsuit that Cecilia considered little more than an unfair nuisance by a couple determined to blame their own shortcomings on someone else. Milla, in this case.

“Have you had anything to eat lately?” she asked the younger woman in rather maternal concern. “You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine,” Milla replied, trying to smile. “It’s just been a long day.”

“Tell me about it,” Cecilia agreed with a crooked grin, pressing a hand to her back to indicate her own weariness. “We’re well into a Merlyn County baby boom, aren’t we?”

Milla chuckled wearily. “I think the population of Binghamton almost doubled in the past week alone.”

“We’ve sure got a boatload of Binghams represented here tonight,” Vanessa murmured in a bit of a non sequitur as she surveyed the crowded room. “There’s dear Miss Myrtle and Mr. Ron. And Mari and Geoff. You know this event’s a big deal if they brought him home for it. Then there’s Hannah, of course, I suppose she counts as a Bingham. Don’t she and your brother look happy, Cecilia?”

Cecilia smiled mistily across the room to where her handsome and utterly adored younger brother, Eric, stood attentively next to a lovely, and very pregnant, Hannah. The couple were so visibly in love—and so excited about the child they would soon welcome into their lives.

Eric was another exception to Cecilia’s general theory that most men weren’t interested in long-term family obligations. There was no question in her mind that Eric’s commitment to Hannah and her baby would last a lifetime.

And as happy as she was for her brother, she couldn’t help envying…

“Oops. Almost missed a Bingham,” Vanessa added cheerily. “Dr. Kyle is posed broodingly on the other side of the atrium, looking like he stepped off a GQ cover. He is one fine-looking young man, isn’t he?”

Cecilia’s smile deepened. “If you happen to appreciate blond hair, blue eyes, a pretty face and a perfect body. And who doesn’t, right, Milla?”

Her formerly pale face now bright pink, Milla murmured an answer, then made an excuse to move away. Something about seeing someone she needed to speak to.

With a slight frown, Cecilia watched Milla hurry away. Like others who worked closely with them, she hadn’t missed the sparks between the young nurse and Dr. Kyle Bingham. But something other than a possibly complicated attraction seemed to be haunting Milla, and, worrier that she was, it concerned her. “Does it seem to you that Milla’s been acting oddly lately, Van?”

“Who wouldn’t be, with that stupid lawsuit hanging over her? But she’ll be okay, don’t you worry. Mari and the legal staff will take good care of her.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” Telling herself to let the experts worry about Milla’s problems, Cecilia glanced discreetly at her functional, easily readable stainless steel watch. “Wonder how soon before we can make an escape? I’m ready to get home and crash.”

“I’ll try not to take that as a comment on my sparkling companionship.”

Smiling, Cecilia shook her head. “Like Milla, I’m just tired. It really has been a long day.”

“I’m about ready to head home, myself. George is supposed to have the kids fed and homework supervised, but you know how it goes. I’ll probably have to check to make sure it all got done. And I want to read Damien his bedtime story tonight.”

Vanessa couldn’t have known, of course, that her lighthearted words would go straight to Cecilia’s heart. Though Vanessa knew Cecilia wanted children of her own, she had no idea just how strong that longing had become.

It was with some relief that Cecilia was able to change the subject of the conversation. “I think someone wants to speak to you,” she said, nodding toward a young nursing student who was trying to get Vanessa’s attention. “Looks like a lively discussion is going on over there.”

Vanessa sighed. “I’m sure there is. That group is always getting into a debate about something—and I always seem to get called in as referee.”

“Mama Vanessa,” Cecilia teased. “Go take care of your chicks. I’m going to try to score another chocolate-dipped strawberry.”

“Okay. Catch you later.” Vanessa moved to the group of nursing students and was soon engaged in an animated conversation with them.

Cecilia worked her way slowly across the crowded atrium, pausing several times to chat with co-workers. She made sure she spoke to enough people to leave no doubt that she had attended the gathering—standard office politics. On the other side of the room, her brother and his fiancée were surrounded by well-wishers. She managed to swap smiles and waves with them, but she made no effort to join them. As a rising young executive in the Bingham corporation, Eric had his own politics to practice this evening.

And, speaking of Binghams…

She smiled when Geoff stepped in front of her again. “Still looking for a cheeseburger, Mr. Bingham?”

He chuckled. “Actually, I’m hungry enough now for a thick slab of steak and a huge baked potato. These little finger foods aren’t going to hold me any longer.”

“I know what you mean. I haven’t had time to eat since breakfast this morning.”

“So, how about it? Want to go find a steak?”

She blinked. “Um…now?”

“Of course. We’re both hungry. We’ve dutifully made our appearances at this official reception thing, and there’s no reason for either of us to stay any longer. So, if you have no plans for the remainder of the evening, I would be honored if you would join me for dinner.”

She could hardly believe that Geoff Bingham was impulsively asking her out within a few minutes of meeting her. Heck, she couldn’t even say they had met, officially. She was quite sure she hadn’t even told him her name. “We haven’t even been introduced.”

His grin deepened, pushing intriguing creases into his lean cheeks. “We haven’t, have we? Of course you already know I’m Geoff Bingham, and I know you’re Eric Mendoza’s sister, Cecilia. You’re a valuable member of the midwifery team here and highly respected by everyone who mentions you. I’d like to get a chance to know you myself.”

So he did know who she was. Maybe, she decided, he just didn’t like eating alone. Maybe he was using her as an excuse to get out of this reception—being the gentleman by feeding a hungry guest, being a good executive by getting to know one of the subordinates in the organization, getting better acquainted with the sister of the man who was marrying one of his cousins. All sorts of rationales could apply. The question was, did she want to accept?

Rather surprisingly, considering her earlier weariness and eagerness to get home, the answer was yes.

Maybe she was simply trying to postpone going home alone—again—to contemplate her life and her future. Maybe watching Eric and Hannah from across the room made her aware again of her own depressing lack of a social life, if she discounted a few disastrous blind dates—which she did. Or maybe she simply liked the idea of spending a couple of hours with an attractive, charming and interesting man.

Deciding she had no reason at all to turn him down, she smiled. “Would you mind if I order chicken instead of steak?”

Satisfaction gleamed in his clear hazel eyes. “That can definitely be arranged.”

Chapter Two

If he had known when he’d dressed for the evening that he would end up dining with a beautiful brunette, he wouldn’t have been so reluctant to attend the reception, Geoff mused as he studied Cecilia Mendoza across a cozy table a short time later. Melinda’s was busy this evening, as it was most weekends, but a combination of clever table arrangement and discreet lighting gave them a sense of privacy as they studied the menus by candlelight.

At Cecilia’s suggestion, they had left the reception separately, driving their own cars to the restaurant. He had assumed the suggestion was based at least partly on discretion, since the gossip lines in the clinic were as active as in any tight-knit work environment. He had to admit it had been clever of her.

Geoff had had the foresight to call ahead as he’d left the hospital so that a table had been waiting for them, avoiding the usual lengthy wait for seating. He didn’t often wield his influence as a member of one of the wealthiest and most prominent local families, but this had been one of the rare occasions when it had been irresistible to do so. If Cecilia had been impressed, she hadn’t let it show, which was something else he liked about her.

“I think I’ll have the trout,” she said, laying her menu aside.

“Change your mind about the chicken?”

Her smile brought out tiny dimples at the corners of her mouth. Geoff couldn’t keep from staring at them as she replied, “Actually, everything looks so good it’s hard to decide. It’s been quite a while since I’ve had the chance to dine here.”

He dragged his gaze back up to her eyes. “Then I’m glad you were free to join me tonight.”

Located in an old firehouse, Melinda’s was a steak and seafood restaurant with a menu and a wine list that compared favorably to anything in the state, as far as Geoff was concerned. He liked the history of the place, the redbrick walls decorated with framed black-and-white vintage photographs from Merlyn County’s colorful past, the polished brass pole left over from the old fire station, the huge carved oak bar that made up the entire back wall of the popular lounge downstairs.

Geoff’s family had always come here for special occasions, such as birthdays and anniversaries, and the management had always given them preferential treatment. During the past few years, he had dined in some of the most renowned restaurants in the world, but Melinda’s would always feel like home to him.

Having placed their orders with the server who had been hovering discreetly nearby, Geoff focused on his companion again. “I’m told the clinic has been very busy lately.”

Her smile turned wry. “You’re told correctly. We’ve decided there’s a major baby boom going on in Merlyn County. And there’s more and more demand for midwifery services, partially due to the shortage of obstetricians in the county.”

“How are the new students performing? Is the school doing its job properly?”

“Absolutely. I would put our school up against any in the country.”

Pleased by her unmistakable loyalty to the company, Geoff nodded. “Enough about business—let’s talk about you.”

She gave him a look that warned him she wouldn’t fall easily for the usual trite lines, but he hadn’t really been feeding her one. He was interested in finding out about her. Something about the contrast between her politely restrained manner and her sexy flame-red dress intrigued him as much as her lovely face and curvy figure attracted him.

It had been much too long since he’d had time to spend an evening with an intriguing woman, he concluded. He had been so busy being the dutiful son and employee during the past ten years that he had almost forgotten how to be spontaneous and impulsive. He had tried so hard to be like his hardworking and upstanding father and not like his wild and irresponsible uncle that he had almost forgotten how to be himself. He had begun to suspect that there was a little of both his father and his uncle inside him.

It was the latter side that he called upon when he leaned slightly forward and gave Cecilia his most winning smile. “What do you like to do when you’re not delivering babies?”

“I’m an avid reader and gardener. I enjoy hiking and bird-watching in the mountains.”

“How do you feel about football?”

She lifted her wineglass to her lips and studied him over the rim. “I am positively passionate about football. Especially when it comes to University of Kentucky football.”

His interest went up a couple more notches. “A woman after my own heart.”

“I’m not after anyone’s heart, Mr. Bingham,” she said, setting her glass on the table. “Hearts are very high-maintenance organs, and I barely have time to take care of myself.”

He laughed. Now that was a sentiment he could agree with. With each passing moment he was becoming more pleased that he had followed his impulses and asked Cecilia Mendoza to join him for dinner.

Cecilia had always believed that the nicest pleasures were unexpected ones. Dining with Geoff Bingham definitely fell into that category. He was very good company—articulate, funny, attentive when she spoke. All skills picked up during the course of his job, she was sure, making him an ideal companion for a leisurely meal.

She couldn’t help chuckling as she compared this outing to the last time she had gone out on a dinner date. At Vanessa’s urging, she had reluctantly agreed to a blind date set up over the Internet. After all, there were so few available men Cecilia’s age in this area, and with her long hours at the clinic, she didn’t have many opportunities to meet other singles.

The date had been a dismal failure, a total waste of time on both sides. He hadn’t been at all interested in hearing about her work—just the opposite, actually, since he freely admitted that the idea of childbirth “grossed him out.” And his description of midnight frog gigging—his favorite sport, apparently—had done the same for her.

“What’s so funny?” Geoff asked, looking up from his nearly finished steak.

She hadn’t realized she had laughed out loud. “Nothing. I’m just enjoying the meal.”

He glanced at her plate and then at his own. “Maybe I should have ordered the trout. My steak’s good, but it doesn’t make me laugh.”

“Let’s just say it’s been too long since I’ve been out for a nice meal with a charming companion,” she said, reaching for her wineglass. “I’ve been eating alone entirely too much lately.”

Geoff’s expression turned wry. “I almost wish I could say the same. I have very few opportunities to spend any time alone. Seems like I rush constantly from one meeting or reception or dinner party to the next. I can’t even tell you the last time I had a chance to crash in front of the TV with a pizza for an entire evening.”

“You don’t enjoy your work?”

“Actually, I do, for the most part. But I think I’m going to start scheduling a bit more free time in the future.”

She nodded. “Good plan. Spend too many hours working and too few relaxing and you’ll end up burned out and suffering from stress-related health problems. I’ve seen it entirely too many times.”

“Maybe you should take your own advice. From what I hear, you’re one of the hardest workers in the clinic.”

She wondered who had been talking about her to Geoff. His sister, perhaps? While it sounded as though the conversation had been complimentary, it still made her uncomfortable to think about being discussed in her absence. “Yes, well, like you, I’ve been giving some thought to my personal life lately.”

As much as she loved her work, it was no substitute for a family or for the child she wanted so badly.

“You’re not planning on leaving the clinic, are you? Mari would have a cow if you even suggested it.”

She laughed at his wording, then shook her head. “I’m not leaving the clinic. I love my job. I just need more.”

She changed the subject before he could ask what that “more” entailed. “Tell me about your latest trip. I heard you were in Italy.” She wondered how he felt knowing he had been the subject of a few discussions, too.

If it bothered him, he didn’t let it show. He merely nodded to confirm the rumor. “Milan. I met with some scientists and international venture capitalists about investing funds and expertise into our biomedical research center.”

“Did the meetings go well—or can you say?”

“I can’t really give any details at the moment, but I can say the family was satisfied with my progress.”

Cecilia toyed with a fork-size piece of tender salmon. “Your family seems to be more than satisfied with your work. They always sound so proud when they speak of you.”

She noted that his smile was just a bit crooked. “That’s what I’ve been trained for all my life—to make my family proud.”

Was that a trace of restlessness she heard in his voice? She doubted that Geoff had been given much choice about joining his family’s business. Were there times when he wished he could have pursued his own path?

Cecilia knew all about family obligations. After all, she had pretty much put her own life on hold for several years to care for her mother. She had set aside dating and traveling and experimenting because she felt she owed it to her mother, and because she had wanted to give her much younger brother a chance to finish his education and get started in his own career.

But now their mother was gone. At twenty-six, Eric was successfully established with Bingham Enterprises, blissfully engaged to the woman he adored, and expecting a child he would love with all his heart. Cecilia was thirty-seven and still recovering financially from the daunting medical bills she had hidden from her brother. Her social life was pretty much nonexistent, and having her own child was a dream that seemed farther out of reach with each passing month.

“What’s wrong?”

She glanced up from the food she had suddenly lost interest in to find Geoff watching her from across the table, his clear hazel eyes entirely too perceptive. She felt as if he could read her thoughts in her own brown eyes, and even though she knew that was foolish, she glanced quickly away, pretending to concentrate on her meal again. “Nothing’s wrong. Why?”

“You stopped smiling.”

She smiled again and tried to make it look completely natural. “No serious talk tonight. I won’t allow it. Tell me about Milan—and make me see it in my mind.”

Proving himself to be as skilled with words as he was with a smile, he entertained her for the next twenty minutes with stories of his travels. His descriptions were so clever it was almost as if she could see the classic architecture, almost smell the spices and flowers, almost hear the music and voices, almost taste the exotic air. Maybe she would never have a chance to visit Milan for herself, but she would leave this restaurant feeling as if she had been treated to a brief glimpse of the faraway city.

Within minutes her smile was entirely genuine again. And all because of Geoff.

Funny how Geoff had fantasized earlier about spending the evening alone with his guitar. Instead, he found himself doing everything he could think of to delay his return to his empty rooms.

“Are you sure you don’t want dessert?” he asked when they could spend no more time toying with their empty plates.

Still wearing the soft smile his word-pictures had evoked, Cecilia shook her head. “I couldn’t eat another bite. But feel free to order something for yourself.”

He had no interest in dessert, either. As delectable as the pies here were, they couldn’t draw his interest away from the woman across the table from him.

It seemed he was in the mood for spicy rather than sweet this evening.

Somewhat reluctantly he paid the tab and escorted her out of the dining room. The strains of music drifting from the downstairs lounge gave him an idea for prolonging the evening. “The band sounds good tonight. Unless you’re in a hurry to get home, why don’t we have a drink and listen for a little while?”

She barely hesitated before agreeing. “That sounds like fun.”

Immensely pleased with himself, he led her in. Melinda’s lounge was a popular weekend date destination, and both the dance floor and the numerous cozy tables were almost full. Geoff thought it was another example of how magical this evening had been so far that a particularly nice table opened up just as they entered.

An efficient waitress took their orders almost as soon as they sat down. Cecilia asked for white wine, and Geoff requested the same.

The band—a group of talented local thirtysomethings—played a mix of adult contemporary and country pop numbers, the most popular genres for the usual crowd here. Geoff tapped his foot in time with a lively rendition of “Boot Scoot Boogie.” Energetic dancers two-stepped and line danced on the polished wood floor.

Geoff could two-step with the best of them, but he was rather hoping a nice, slow number would be next. The thought of holding Cecilia Mendoza in his arms was enough to make his foot tap faster.

She seemed to be enjoying watching the dancers. An amused smile flitted across her lips as she focused on one rhythmically challenged couple in matching turquoise western shirts and ill-fitting jeans.

Taking advantage of the opportunity to watch her without her noticing, he admired the way the flickering candlelight and colored dance floor lights gleamed in her dark hair. Wispy tendrils had escaped her upsweep to sway against her cheeks and flirt with the tops of her shoulders. He would like to see her hair down. Even more, he would like to see it spread across his pillow.

She chose that moment, of course, to glance his way, making him hope his thoughts were well concealed. “The band is good, aren’t they?”

“Very good,” he agreed, though he hadn’t heard a note since he’d started gazing at her.

She leaned a bit closer to him so he could hear her over the music and surrounding conversations. Though he could hear her perfectly well when she made another comment about the music, he scooted his own chair a bit closer to hers when he replied.

She lifted an eyebrow when his knee brushed hers. “You aren’t getting fresh, are you, Mr. Bingham?”

He grinned and ran a fingertip slowly down her smooth bare arm. “I was sort of thinking about it.”

“Well, let me know when you decide.”

“Are you telling me it’s okay if I do get fresh?”

She gave him a smile that heated his blood to a low simmer. “I suppose you’ll just have to try it and see.”

Obligingly enough, the band slipped into a slow number, the country arrangement of “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing.” As of that moment, it was Geoff’s new favorite song.

He stood and held out his hand. “Dance with me?”

Though she placed her hand in his and rose obligingly enough, she murmured, “I’m not much of a dancer, I’m afraid.”

Somehow he doubted that, considering the graceful way she moved, the gentle sway of her hips. But he couldn’t care less about fancy steps or choreographed moves—he just wanted to get his arms around her.

It felt as good to have them there as he had predicted.

Funny that he hadn’t realized until now how small she was. He would guess her to be a good seven inches shorter than his own six feet, so that even the strappy, heeled sandals she wore brought the top of her head just to his chin. Her figure was slender but nicely curved, making his hands itch to wander and explore. He kept them discreetly placed for public dancing, but he couldn’t help fantasizing a bit….

“It’s been forever since I’ve danced,” Cecilia murmured.

“It’s been a while for me, too.” The double entendre was unintentional—but accurate, nonetheless. When another couple crowded them, bringing Cecilia more closely against him, he was forcefully reminded of just how long it had been since he’d spent any quality one-on-one time with an attractive woman. It took some effort for him to keep his body from embarrassing him like a randy teenager’s.

They spent the next hour dancing and talking. Flirting. Having fun. Geoff could almost feel the last traces of work-induced tension seeping from his muscles. He sensed the same thing in Cecilia as her smiles warmed and softened.

It was inevitable that other people there recognized them with apparent surprise and curiosity, but other than acknowledging greetings, Geoff ignored everyone but his companion. Cecilia did the same, exchanging the occasional smile or wave, but subtly discouraging further approaches.

She was good at that, Geoff decided. Politely reserved. It was a skill his late mother had perfected and that Geoff had worked to develop to preserve some semblance of privacy in his hectic and very public life.

Though he paid little attention to gossip, his prominent family having been the subject of all too much of it during the years, he wondered if it bothered Cecilia that they were attracting so much notice. Tongues would probably wag tomorrow about Geoff making time with one of the midwives from the clinic. He was cynical enough to know that a few would turn the question around. “Didja’ hear that Cecilia Mendoza was making a play to snag the Bingham’s bachelor son?”

Such idle talk didn’t concern him, but maybe Cecilia took it more seriously. Then again, maybe not. After all, she must have known when they agreed to dine here that plenty of people would recognize them and speculate.

He had the feeling that Cecilia was self-confident enough not to be overly concerned at what other people said about her. He admired that about her. It was only one of the things he admired about her, he mused, his gaze lingering on her lush mouth.

Cecilia was reluctant for the evening to end, and it was clear that Geoff felt the same way. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such a pleasant outing. She certainly couldn’t recall the last time she had danced this much. Even if her feet were throbbing in the heeled sandals she hadn’t expected to wear this long, it was well worth the discomfort.

It was a heady feeling knowing that Geoff found her attractive. Too often lately she had felt routine-bound and uninteresting, her days consumed with work, her home life unfulfilling. She was so often surrounded by young nurses and young mothers, who often treated Cecilia with a deference usually reserved for much older women. It was a sign of their respect for her and her career, of course, and she acknowledged that. But their attitudes sometimes made her feel older than thirty-seven.

Now a man at least five years her junior was looking at her with desire and admiration in his eyes. A very attractive, successful, interesting and respected man, who must meet dozens of beautiful and fascinating women in his travels.

She didn’t expect this to go anywhere, of course. Nor did she particularly want it to. After all, Geoff was a Bingham—and she certainly didn’t want to be involved in their lives. It concerned her enough that her brother was marrying one of the notorious Binghams—even though Hannah was only loosely connected to the clan.

Still, Cecilia thought, as Geoff’s strong arms went around her for their final dance, it had been nice to enjoy his company for a few stolen hours.

He held her more closely this time. His cheek rested against her hair. The band played Lonestar’s “Amazed,” the lead singer crooning the words into the mike. Whenever she heard the song in the future, she would remember this dance and the deliciously shivery sensations running through her.

Geoff was a skilled dancer who made it very easy for her to follow his lead. A smooth turn brought them even closer together, her breasts brushing against his chest, their thighs touching as their feet moved in unison. She felt a tug of response deep inside her, a dull ache that she acknowledged as pure physical desire. It had been much too long since she had indulged that side of herself.

The song ended eventually. Inevitably. Geoff held her for just a moment after the last note faded away, and then he stepped back. “I suppose we should go,” he said as he escorted her back to their table. “It’s getting late, and I know you must be tired.”

She was a bit tired, actually, and her feet were killing her, but she was tempted to ask him to stay a little while longer. Instead, she merely nodded. “It is getting late.”

He stayed close by her side as he walked her out. Cecilia could almost feel eyes watching them leave, and she knew there would be talk tomorrow. She didn’t particularly care.

From her early childhood as one of the town’s few residents of Hispanic descent at that time, she had accepted that people thought of her as different. People had talked when her father died in a senseless whitewater-rafting accident when Cecilia was still in elementary school. They had whispered when her mother bore an out-of-wedlock son when Cecilia was eleven. Maria had raised both children on her own because Eric’s no-good father hadn’t stayed around to help.

Maria had lived quietly, but somewhat defiantly, working as many as three jobs and asking for no help from anyone except Cecilia, who had served almost as surrogate mother to her baby brother. Though she’d had little spare time to devote to her children, Maria’s strength and self-sufficiency had set an example for both Cecilia and Eric to pursue their own goals without being overly influenced by anyone else.

The gossip had started again when Cecilia had impulsively married at nineteen, a marriage that had lasted barely two years. Six years her senior, Gary McGhee had swept her off her feet and into his arms, promising her everything she had ever dreamed of—a loving partner, an encouraging supporter, a caring father for the children she had wanted even then. Someone to take care of her, for a change.

She had discovered quickly enough that what he had really wanted was someone strong to take care of him. An adoring young wife who wouldn’t mind putting her own dreams aside so she could serve as his personal cheerleader while he drifted from one get-rich scheme to another.

She had finally accepted that Gary was all talk and that she had made a mistake to believe any of it. She had come to the decision that she would rather pursue her own goals by herself—like her mother—than to give them up for someone who would never appreciate the sacrifice.

And now people were talking about her family again as her brother prepared to marry a woman who carried another man’s baby. A woman who had, herself, been an illegitimate child of notorious bad-boy Billy Bingham.

Knowing how deeply Eric loved Hannah, and what a good father he would make for her child, Cecilia didn’t care if the gossips talked until their tongues deflated. It was no one’s business but Eric’s who he married or why. Just as it was no one else’s business if Cecilia wanted to enjoy Geoff Bingham’s company for a few delightful hours.

Let them gossip, she thought with a private smile. These memories would be hers to savor for quite some time.

“You’re smiling again,” Geoff observed, turning at her car door to study her in the yellow glow of the parking lot lights.

“I had a lovely time,” she told him, tilting her smile up for him.

“So did I.” Ignoring anyone who might see them, he lowered his head and brushed a quick kiss against her cheek. As relatively innocent as the gesture was, it still made her knees go weak to feel his lips against her skin.

Geoff lifted his head, and though he was still smiling, there was a new heat in his eyes. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

“Did you hear me protest?”

“No.” He bent toward her again. “So maybe you wouldn’t mind if I—”

She moved quickly out of his reach. A disregard for gossip was one thing, but her deeply entrenched sense of privacy prevented her from making a complete spectacle of herself. “This is a little too public for my taste.”

He pushed his hands into his pockets as if to demonstrate that he wouldn’t touch her again without permission. “Would you allow me to see you home? Just to make sure you get there safely?”

Though she wasn’t sure her safety had much to do with the offer, she took a moment to think about it. She supposed there was no harm in allowing him to follow her home. The fifteen-minute drive would give him the satisfaction of making a chivalrous gesture—and her the chance to think about whether she wanted to invite him inside when they got there.

She simply nodded and turned to slide into her car.

By the time she drove into her driveway, she had conducted a full, somewhat heated debate with herself about how she wanted the evening to end. Should she politely thank Geoff again for dinner, then send him on his way? Or should she ask him in for a nightcap and then see what happened?

Just how far was she willing to suspend reality this evening?

Chapter Three

Geoff parked his expensive, new-looking sports car behind the economy sedan Cecilia had bought used four years ago—another sign, she mused, that their lives couldn’t be more different. And then he moved toward her, his face shadowed, his lean, strong, yet somehow elegant body silhouetted by security lighting.

Even the way he walked fascinated her, she thought as she watched him approach. He held his head high and his shoulders squared—an innate air of confidence that probably came with being born a Bingham. It wasn’t arrogance she sensed in him, exactly—more an expectation of being accepted and respected, a feeling that had been lacking in her own background.

This man could have spent the evening anywhere he wanted—and with anyone—but he had chosen to spend it with her. She couldn’t deny that it was a huge boost to her feminine ego.

He stopped in front of her. “Nice neighborhood.”

“Thank you. I enjoy living here.”

It was an older neighborhood, filled with aging houses—and aging residents, many of whom had lived here since Cecilia was a little girl. The teenage girl next door was the youngest resident of the neighborhood since moving in with her grandparents a year ago.

Tall, stately trees guarded the sides of the narrow street, their branches nearly touching over it. Neat yards and flourishing flower beds gave testament to the pride her working-class neighbors took in their homes.

Cecilia had inherited her small white-frame house when her mother passed away three years earlier. Though she had protested, Eric had insisted on signing his half over to her—in gratitude, he had said, for her putting her own life on hold to care for their mother while he completed his education and embarked on his career.

Cecilia’s name was the only one on the deed now, but she still considered it Eric’s home, too. He made a point of keeping up the routine maintenance for her—such as painting the siding and shutters and flower boxes last spring—and he ate lunch with her every Sunday.

At least, he had until very recently, she corrected herself with a little ripple of sadness. Now that Eric was about to be married and was establishing his own family, some of the old routines had to change, Sunday lunches being one of them. As much as she welcomed Hannah into the family, Cecilia couldn’t help regretting a little that her role as the most important woman in Eric’s life had come to an end.

Now she wasn’t the most important person in anyone’s life, she had found herself thinking during the middle of several long, lonely nights. Though she had never been the type to indulge in self-pity, she was human enough to wish some things had turned out differently for her.

“Have you lived here long?”

Pulling herself back to the present, she replied to Geoff, “Since I was very young. This is the house where my mother raised Eric and me.”

Geoff nodded, his face still obscured by the shadows of the warm summer night. “You must miss her very much.”

“Yes, I do.”

“I miss my mom, too.”

The simple and palpably sincere statement brought a lump to her throat. She remembered Geoff’s mother—a beautiful, classy, kind-hearted woman who had been known as a tireless contributor to local charities. At only forty, Violet Bingham had died of a massive heart attack. That was almost ten years ago. Cecilia had been a relatively new employee of the clinic, but even then she had seen how the tragedy had devastated the family and the community.

People who knew him well said that Geoff’s father, Ron, would never get over the loss of his young wife. Cecilia had always considered it a shame that handsome, charming, still-vibrant Ronald Bingham should spend the rest of his life alone.

Maybe it was the moment of bonding or maybe it was the thought of the empty rooms waiting for her that made her say, “Would you like to come in for coffee? Or if you’re too tired, I—”

“I would love to come in for coffee,” he agreed before she could even finish the sentence. “I’ll just go lock my car first.”

Hoping she wasn’t making a gigantic mistake, Cecilia turned toward her front door.

Trying to be subtle about it, Geoff studied Cecilia’s home curiously when he followed her inside. The love of bright colors revealed by the red dress she had worn this evening was echoed in the decor of her living room. The sofa looked new—a splash of bright graphics on a deep-red background. The few wood pieces were old—a mix of refinished and fashionably distressed antiques.

On the walls hung framed prints of impressionistic paintings. The jewel-toned throw pillows scattered about the furniture had probably been hand crafted. It was a room that had been decorated by someone with excellent taste and limited funds. He liked it better than many expensive and professionally decorated rooms he had been in.

He made note of the framed photographs grouped on the mantel. Most of them were of Eric, from infancy through adulthood. Eric lying on a bear rug, blowing out three candles on a birthday cake, posing in Boy Scout and baseball uniforms, beaming in cap and gown. A dark-eyed brunette who could only be Cecilia’s mother appeared in a few of the photos, looking stiff and camera-shy. Cecilia was pictured even less, either because she didn’t like being photographed or didn’t care to display pictures of herself.

It was obvious that she adored her younger brother. Geoff was quite sure that his own sister had no similar photographic shrine to him. He and Mari had always gotten along well enough, though they had been too busy and focused on their careers to connect much during the past decade. Since their mother’s death, actually.

Violet had been the glue that held her family together. Their grief over her loss had caused them to drift apart, throwing themselves more fully into their activities to dull the pain.

Cecilia motioned toward the couch. “Have a seat. I’ll put the coffee on.”

He placed a hand on her arm. “I have a confession to make.”

Her eyebrows lifted in question. “What?”

“I don’t really want any coffee.”

She tilted her head to study his face, her expression hard to interpret. “Is that right?”

“I don’t even like coffee.”

“So you came in because…?”

“Because I wasn’t ready for the evening to be over.”

The admission certainly didn’t seem to surprise her. Nor did it appear to perturb her. She had to have known when he’d followed her home that the moment would come when she would have to decide how she wanted their evening to end.

Maybe she had made that decision when she invited him in. She glanced at his hand where it rested on her arm and then looked back up at him through her thick, dark lashes. The smile that played on her lips was neither shy nor hesitant, but the smile of a woman who knew what she wanted. And tonight, it seemed, she wanted him.

“Then maybe we can make it last just a little while longer,” she murmured, sliding her free hand up his chest.

His pulse rate sped up in anticipation. “Just for a little while,” she had said, making it clear that she wasn’t expecting more from him than this one night. She was no starry-eyed ingenue who would take his attentions too seriously. No hungry, wannabe socialite hoping to secure a country-club future by snagging a most-eligible bachelor.

Perhaps that was why he’d had such a good time with her tonight. She’d had no expectations, no demands of him. He hadn’t been trying to sell her anything or charm anything out of her, and the same had been true in reverse. He had been free to be himself—to eat what he’d liked, to talk without overanalyzing his words, to laugh and dance and sometimes sit quietly and listen to the music.

Damn, it had felt good. He wanted to hang on to that feeling for a bit longer. He released her arm only to slide both of his own around her. “I suppose you’ve been told that you have beautiful eyes.”

She gave him a look that was a mixture of amusement and reproach. “You’ve been refreshingly natural all evening. Don’t start spouting corny lines now.”

He laughed, though it hadn’t really been a line. She did have beautiful eyes. And an absolutely amazing mouth. And a body that seemed to have been tailored to fit nicely against his.

“Okay,” he promised. “No corny lines.”

She seemed to give that vow a moment’s thought, and then she shook her head and slid her arms around his neck. “Oh, the heck with it. Tell me more about my eyes.”

He was still grinning when he covered her mouth with his.

He had been fantasizing all evening about tasting her full, soft lips. He discovered now that imagination couldn’t compare to reality when it came to kissing Cecilia Mendoza.

Though he had bent down to her, she stood on tiptoe to meet him. The position brought her even more snugly against him, making him intensely aware of the womanly fullness of her breasts and hips. Geoff had always appreciated curves, having never been a fan of the fashionably underfed look.

He no longer tried to hide the effect she had on him. They weren’t in public now, and he felt free to be completely honest with her. If she didn’t know how much he wanted her by now, then she simply wasn’t paying attention.

He surfaced from the kiss long enough for them both to draw quick breaths of air, and then he dove in again. As waves of pleasure swept through him, he found himself thinking about how glad he was that he had changed his mind about spending the evening alone with his guitar.

No woman should reach the age of forty without having at least a few reckless adventures to remember, Cecilia figured. And since she was getting rather close to that particular milestone, this was one adventure she simply could not resist.

Kissing Geoff was a revelation. Who would have thought any man could make her feel so much with no more than a couple of deep, skillful kisses? She was typically a bit slower off the mark, so to speak. But then, it had been quite a long time since she had participated in the sport.

She could feel the heat in her face when he finally drew back. Her hair was beginning to slip its restraints, lying against her cheeks and tickling the nape of her neck. She knew she must look flushed and disheveled, but still Geoff gazed at her as though he found her beautiful. And while she knew she wasn’t, really, it still felt nice to have him look at her that way.

His smile was crooked, and his voice satisfyingly gravelly when he said, “I should warn you that I feel another corny line coming on.”

She cleared her throat. “I’m getting close to spouting a few myself.”

“As much as I would like to hear any outrageous compliments you choose to make about me, maybe it would be better if we move the conversation to another location. We could at least sit down. Or, if it’s getting too late, you could walk me to the door….”

Another gentlemanly way to offer her an out if she had any doubts. He really was a nice guy, Cecilia thought as she slid her fingers into the back of his neatly brushed hair. She couldn’t help thinking how nice it would look tousled around his handsome face.

Because he held her so tightly against him, she knew their kisses had affected him as deeply as they had her. Yet his lightly spoken words had been intended to ease any tension their passionate kisses might have created between them. Geoff wanted her to feel comfortable with him, the way she had at the restaurant earlier. He was obviously trying to reassure her that he was putting no pressure on her, that she was fully in control.

While she appreciated his consideration, she almost wished he would sweep her off her feet so she didn’t have to make any decisions. It was an uncharacteristic thought, and one she quickly suppressed, since she was admittedly a control freak who wanted the final say in all areas of her life.

“Maybe you would like to see the rest of my house,” she said, giving him a smile designed to let him know exactly what the invitation included.

“There’s nothing I would like more,” he assured her huskily.

She took his hand. His fingers closed eagerly around hers.

Because there was no way she could have known anyone would be joining her in her bedroom that evening, it must have been a lucky impulse that had made Cecilia change her sheets and put out fresh flowers from her garden before she left for work that morning. She enjoyed coming home to a clean house after a long day in the clinic, and tonight the faint whiff of the flowers only added to the romantic haze she had slipped into.

The small Tiffany-style lamp on her nightstand was connected to a timer so she didn’t have to walk into a dark room after working late. The lamp glowed softly now, throwing gentle illumination over the 1930s-era dark pecan bedroom furniture and the hand-pieced quilt she used as a bedspread. Period accessories gleaned from flea markets and antique shops decorated the vanity and double dresser, and more family photos hung on the walls. Numerous soft, colorful throw pillows turned the room into an old-fashioned, comfy boudoir, complete with a bentwood rocker tucked into one corner.

This was Cecilia’s haven, the place where she hid out to read and daydream. Though the decor had changed, it was the same room she’d had as a girl, never having the desire to move into the rooms that had been used by her mother or her brother. She rarely brought anyone in; even Eric had stepped foot in her room only a handful of times, and then only to make various repairs.

It took an enormous leap of faith for her to invite Geoff Bingham into her private space. For a woman who generally took as few risks as possible in her life, this was pretty huge on the adventure scale.

Maybe he sensed her sudden attack of nerves. He turned to her and gave her a smile that was both gentle and endearing. “It’s not too late to walk me to the door.”

“I know, but the thing is, I don’t want to do that yet.”

“Can’t say it’s what I want you to do, either,” he murmured, his smile crooked again.

Drawing a deep breath, she walked her fingers up his chest. “Tell me again about my eyes.”

“They are—” he lowered his head to speak against her lips “—amazing.”

She let herself drift into the kiss, into the moment. She’d had a few great kisses in her life—some that she would have described at the time as spectacular—but there was something different about kissing Geoff. She couldn’t think of a word that wasn’t clichéd or trite or simply inadequate, but there was definitely something….

Apparently he found time to work out during his travels. Beneath the conservative businessman’s clothing was a lean, solid, nicely muscled body. She had noticed that during their first slow dance. Her observation was confirmed when she slid his jacket off his shoulders and tossed it over the rocker. Even through his shirt, she could see that his shoulders were wide and his stomach flat. What she couldn’t see, she mused as she went to work on his tie, was whether his chest was smooth or furry. Tanned or pale.

Only moments later she was able to confirm that he was lightly tanned and that there was only a smattering of dark hair down the center of his chest. Drawing his shirt slowly down his arms, she tried to anticipate how it would feel to be pressed against that very nice chest, with nothing between them except desire.

She couldn’t wait to find out.

Holding her gaze with his own, he slipped his hands behind her. A brush of cool air followed her zipper down her back, and then her dress pooled around her bare feet. She couldn’t really remember kicking off her sandals, but then the details of this night were beginning to blur into a haze of sensation. She had given up on rational thought a long time ago—maybe even the first time Geoff had smiled at her.

Unfortunately, her intuition hadn’t warned her to don sexy lingerie beneath the red dress. She was still wearing the serviceable beige bra and matching panties she had worn to work. Before she had time to regret the choice, the problem had become moot; Cecilia barely had time to reflect on how suspiciously good Geoff was at removing women’s undergarments before she found herself in his arms again. With nothing between them but desire.

It felt even better than she could have imagined.

As he lowered her to the bed, she came very close to telling him that she never did things like this. That it was so unlike her to bring a man she had just met into her bed. She bit the words back because they sounded so overused. So difficult to believe—even though in this case they were so absolutely true.

She could only hope he somehow understood without being told that this was a special evening. A brief visit to fantasyland.

Reality intruded momentarily when he retrieved a plastic package from his pants pocket—did he always carry condoms or had he hoped to hook up with someone tonight?—but she pushed the question to the back of her mind to ponder later.

He kissed her eyelids. “Have I mentioned that I have a thing for big brown eyes?”

“I—” She was forced to clear her throat before she could speak. Apparently the fact that they were practically glued together in her bed wasn’t affecting his voice the way it was hers, though it was certainly affecting other parts of him dramatically enough. “I think you have.”

His lips trailed across her cheek. “Did I tell you how much I like the dimples at the corners of your mouth?” he asked, then pressed a kiss just there.

She felt those dimples deepen. “I don’t think you have mentioned that.”

The tip of his tongue swept across her lower lip, causing a shiver of reaction. “Consider it said.”

She could only nod this time.

Scooting downward a bit on the bed, he nibbled a line from her chin down her throat to the top of her shoulder. “Should I keep listing the parts of you that I like best? Because I warn you, it could take the rest of the night.”

Arching into his explorations, she closed her eyes and threaded her fingers into his hair. “I just happen to be available all night,” she managed to say.

He lifted his head from his downward path just long enough to flash her a wickedly beautiful smile. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that.”

The outrageous idea came to her while she was making coffee the next morning. It hit her with enough force to make her stumble, almost dumping coffee grounds on the spotless linoleum floor.

She placed a hand on a countertop to steady her while she took a moment to wonder if she had just slipped over the edge of sanity. Surely she must be crazy to even consider what she suddenly found herself contemplating.

Dimly aware of the sound of the shower running in the back of the house, she knew she had only a few minutes to gather her composure—and, perhaps, her courage—before facing Geoff.

It was still early on this Saturday morning—not quite 8 a.m. She’d woken first, a bit startled with the realization that she wasn’t alone in her bed. Resisting the opportunity to watch Geoff sleep—and he had looked as delicious with tousled hair and a shadow of beard as she had thought he would—she had slipped out of the bed and into the shower.

By the time Geoff had roused, looking a bit embarrassed that jet lag and a strenuous night had caused him to sleep so heavily, Cecilia had already donned a T-shirt and shorts, pulled her hair into a loose braid and applied judicious touches of makeup. Urging him to take his time in the shower, she had promised to have breakfast ready when he came out.

Hastily dumping coffee into the filter, she turned on the coffeemaker and set out cereal, fruit, milk and yogurt on the kitchen table. Remembering Geoff’s choice of steak and potato for dinner last night, she wouldn’t be surprised if he preferred a bacon-and-eggs breakfast, but this was what she had on hand.

She should probably wait until after they had eaten before broaching the proposition that had hit her with such staggering force. He would need the energy, she thought wryly, when he bolted in panic from the crazy woman he had awakened with this morning. Could she really expect him to react any other way?

But did she have any logical choice but to ask him? How else would she know if it was even within the realm of possibility?

Geoff came into the kitchen then, and her heart tripped—whether from nerves or a surge of raw attraction, she couldn’t have said. Probably both. He looked younger, somehow, with his hair still damp and his white shirt open at the collar and rolled up on his arms. He hadn’t shaved, and the scruffiness only added to that sexy-young-rebel look that was so deceptive for the button-down businessman she suspected him to be.

She swallowed and rubbed her palms on her khaki shorts, suddenly feeling every day of the five years she had on him. Though she didn’t usually have issues with vanity—no more than any other woman, anyway—she found herself hoping those extra years weren’t immediately visible.

Geoff smiled, only adding to his extraordinary appeal. He brushed a light kiss across her mouth. “Looks good.”

“I hope you like fruit and cereal.”

He chuckled as he glanced at the table. “Oh, yeah. The food looks good, too.”

A silly blush warmed her cheeks. Heaven only knew when she had last blushed that way, she thought with a shake of her head. She had to get herself under control. If a simple flirtatious compliment turned her into a giggling schoolgirl, how could she begin to talk to him about certain much more serious—yet undeniably awkward—matters?

“Sit down. I’ll pour the coffee,” she said, turning toward the coffeemaker. And then she stopped and whacked her forehead with the palm of her hand. “Oh, darn. I forgot. You don’t drink coffee.”

He laughed and patted her shoulder on his way to the table. “No. But feel free to have some yourself.”

“I drink too much coffee, anyway. It’s my one vice.” And because that sounded like such a foolish statement after last night, she blushed again.

She tried to hide it by turning her back to him and opening the refrigerator door. “I have juice. Apple or grape. Eric loves fruit juices, so I try to keep plenty on hand.”

Stop babbling, Cecilia. She really did have to get a stronger grip on her emotions this morning.

“Apple juice sounds good. Thanks.”

They finally settled at the table—she with her coffee, he with a glass of apple juice.

“Looks like it’s going to be a nice day,” Geoff remarked, nodding toward the window over the sink. His light tone indicated that he was trying to start a casual conversation. Maybe he sensed that she was tense this morning. If so, he probably attributed it to morning-after jitters, maybe after-the-fact misgivings.

He had no clue, of course, what was really making her so nervous. If he did, he couldn’t have looked so calm.

Trying to put on a show of being completely relaxed, she responded to his comments in kind and toyed with her breakfast, making a pretense of enjoying it. Actually, her throat was so tight she thought she might choke if she tried to eat much.

When he had finished his meal, Geoff pushed his plate aside and laced his hands on the table. “Okay,” he said, leveling a look at her. “What’s wrong? Second thoughts about last night? Regrets?”

“No. As uncharacteristic as it was for me, I don’t regret anything that happened last night.”

His smile turned gentle. “I never doubted that the night was hardly routine for you.”

And now she worried that he was misinterpreting her admission that she wasn’t exactly a party girl. “It isn’t as if I’m making too big a deal out of what happened between us last night,” she assured him hastily. “I mean, I am a thirty-seven-year-old divorcee.”

He reached out to cover her hand with his. “It was a big deal, Cecilia. One of the best nights I’ve had in a very long time.”

She laced her fingers with his. “For me, too.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I’m sort of afraid of ruining everything now.”

“Not possible.”

“You haven’t heard what I want to ask you yet.”

Though she saw a touch of wariness enter his eyes—poor guy, she couldn’t blame him, considering how awkwardly she was handling this—he managed to keep his expression politely encouraging. “What do you want to ask?”

She drew her hand from his and reached for her coffee cup, relieved to see that it was steady when she lifted it to her lips. After a bracing sip, she began, “I’m thirty-seven years old.”

“Yes, so you said.”

“I was married once. A long time ago. It didn’t work out.”

“You mentioned that, too.” He sipped his juice, eyeing her curiously over the rim of his glass.

She was really making a hash of this. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “The thing is, I’ve never had an overwhelming urge to remarry. I love my home and my work and I would rather be contentedly single than unhappily married.”

“We agree on that point. My family’s been nagging me to marry for years, but to be honest, I simply have no desire to do so at this point. I just don’t want to be responsible for anyone else’s happiness and welfare.” He still looked a bit wary as he clearly spelled out his position.

Realizing the direction his thoughts were taking, she laughed a little and held up her hands. “Relax, Geoff. I’m not asking you to marry me. As pleasant as our night together was, it hasn’t turned me into a starry-eyed romantic with foolish dreams of happily ever after.”

Though he looked marginally relieved, he seemed contradictorily perturbed with her choice of adjectives. “Pleasant?”

“Very pleasant,” she clarified a bit impatiently. She had almost forgotten to make allowances for the male ego during this impromptu proposition.

“So what is this request you have of me?”

She drew a deep breath, then blurted the words before she lost her nerve. “I want you to help me make a baby.”

Chapter Four

Geoff wondered for a moment if an unexpected night of passion had somehow damaged his hearing. Surely Cecilia hadn’t just said what he thought she had said. “You want me to do what?”

He watched as she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, a gesture that seemed uncharacteristically nervous from this woman who had appeared so self-confident and composed the night before.

“I want a child,” she repeated. “I want to be a mother. And since my prospects of that are getting slimmer as time passes, I’m ready to do whatever is necessary to make that dream come true for me.”

She locked her slender, capable hands on the table in front of her as she spoke, her gleaming white knuckles giving further evidence of the tension she was trying not to show.

Geoff shook his head. Wasn’t this his luck? He had been telling himself that last night had been a rare gift—unplanned, uncalculated, uncomplicated. A brief foray into the wild side for wild Billy Bingham’s straitlaced and compulsively responsible nephew. And now it turned out that the woman he thought he’d charmed into bed had her own reasons for ending up there.

“You’re looking at me as though I’ve grown another head,” Cecilia said ruefully. “I know this has taken you by surprise.”

“You could say that again.”

Her fingers twisted even more tightly. “The thing is, this subject has been on my mind a lot lately. Every day I deliver other women’s babies, and every day I wonder whether I’ll ever have one of my own. I would be a good mother. I’m mature and responsible and patient. I practically raised Eric, since my mother worked all the time, so I know what I would be getting into. The preschool day-care center at the clinic would give me a chance to see my child often during the day. I’m ready physically, emotionally and financially—as much as I can be, anyway. I don’t want to waste any more time.”

“So have you, um, thought about adoption?” he asked, still trying to assimilate what she wanted of him.

“I’ve considered adoption, but it’s still rather difficult for a single working woman to be approved, and private adoptions can be terribly expensive. Besides, I would really love to have a child of my own. The artificial insemination process is, again, so expensive that it would be hard for me to afford it. The best option for me seems to be the old-fashioned method.”

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