SO MANY BABIES

Four heart-tugging stories about the littlest matchmakers—as they find their way through the Buttonwood Baby Clinic and into a family’s welcoming arms!

THE BABY LEGACY by Pamela Toth

Special Edition #1299

When an anonymous sperm donor tries to withdraw his “contribution,” he learns a beautiful woman is eight months pregnant—with his child!

WHO’S THAT BABY? by Diana Whitney

Special Edition #1305

A handsome Native American lawyer finds a baby on his doorstep—and more than he bargains for with an irresistible pediatrician who has more than medicine on her mind!

MILLIONAIRE’S INSTANT BABY by Allison Leigh

Special Edition #1312

Pretend to be married to a millionaire “husband”? It seemed an easy way for this struggling single mom to earn a trust fund for her newborn. But she never thought she’d fall for her make-believe spouse….

MAKE WAY FOR BABIES! by Laurie Paige

Special Edition #1317

All she needed was a helping hand with her infant twins—until her former brother-in-law stepped up to play “daddy”—and stepped right into her heart.

Dear Reader,

With spring just around the corner, Silhouette’s yearlong 20th Anniversary celebration marches on as we continue to bring you the best and brightest stars and the most compelling stories ever in Special Edition!

Top author Sherryl Woods kicks off the month with Dylan and the Baby Doctor, a riveting secret baby story in the next installment of AND BABY MAKES THREE: THE DELACOURTS OF TEXAS.

From beloved author Marie Ferrarella, you’ll love Found: His Perfect Wife, an emotional story in which a man loses his memory and gains a temporary spouse…. And reader favorite Victoria Pade continues her popular cowboy series A RANCHING FAMILY with Cowboy’s Caress, a heartwarming story about a woman who’s ready to travel the world—until love comes to town!

Millionaire’s Instant Baby is rising star Allison Leigh’s must-read contribution to the series SO MANY BABIES. In this provocative story, a dashing tycoon gets more than he bargained for when he hires a single mom as his pretend wife in order to close a business deal.

THE BLACKWELL BROTHERS continue to capture hearts in the next book of Sharon De Vita’s cross-line series. In The Marriage Promise, a Blackwell brother is determined to woo and win the forbidden love of a beautiful Amish virgin. And you won’t want to miss Good Morning, Stranger, Laurie Campbell’s dramatically poignant story about a woman, a child and a handsome, mysterious stranger who uncover secrets that bring together a meant-to-be family.

It’s a month chock-full of great reading and terrific variety, and we hope you enjoy all the stories!

All the best,

Karen Taylor Richman

Senior Editor

Millionaire’s Instant Baby
Allison Leigh

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my own Prince Charming.

Happy anniversary.

Books by Allison Leigh

Silhouette Special Edition

Stay… #1170

The Rancher and the Redhead #1212

A Wedding for Maggie #1241

A Child for Christmas #1290

Millionaire’s Instant Baby #1312

ALLISON LEIGH

started early by writing a Halloween play that her grade-school class performed for her school. Since then, though her tastes have changed, her love for reading has not. And her writing appetite simply grows more voracious by the day.

Born in Southern California, she has lived in eight different cities in four different states. She has been, at one time or another, a cosmetologist, a computer programmer and an administrative assistant.

Allison and her husband currently make their home in Arizona, where their time is thoroughly filled with two very active daughters, full-time jobs, pets, church, family and friends. In order to give herself the precious writing time she craves, she burns a lot of midnight oil.

A great believer in the power of love—her parents still hold hands—she cannot imagine anything more exciting to write about than the miracle of two hearts coming together.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter One

“I’m looking for a wife.”

Emma Valentine turned her attention away from the tall man who’d just made the flat statement and focused on the feel of the unfamiliar, wonderful weight of the baby in her arms. Her son, barely one day old, took her breath away. All the months of waiting, of worrying, of planning. All were wrapped within the soft blue blanket, contained in the eight pounds of perfectly formed baby. She drew her finger along his velvety cheek, not wanting to wake him, but unable to resist touching.

“Miss Valentine, did you hear me?”

She bent over and pressed her lips ever so gently against her son’s perfect forehead. Her son. She straightened when the door behind the man swished open and Nell Hastings, one of Emma’s favorite nurses, appeared to take the baby back to the nursery.

Emma reluctantly surrendered Chandler. And only after the door had swished closed again did she turn her attention back to the man.

Her arms felt woefully empty, and she folded them across her chest, painfully aware of the sight she must present to the man who looked so flawless he could have stepped from the pages of a men’s fashion magazine. She shifted gingerly in the cushioned side chair and wished she had more clothing covering her than her pink chenille bathrobe and pale hospital gown. “I’m sorry. Mr….?”

“Montgomery. Kyle Montgomery.”

Emma nodded. Dennis Reid, the chief of staff at the Buttonwood Baby Clinic, had introduced him when he’d stopped by. Obviously Dr. Reid had come by with the intention of introducing this man to Emma, though she couldn’t fathom why. Up until now, Emma’s only contact with Dr. Reid occurred when the man went into Mom & Pop’s. The diner where she waitressed was located across from the medical complex and she knew a lot of the clinic’s staff.

She studied the man standing in her room, from the cuffed hem of his black pleated trousers that broke ever so perfectly over his gleaming leather boots to the white shirt flowing over an impressive set of shoulders. The button at his throat was unfastened, but Emma figured he probably had a tie in his car or his briefcase. She knew instinctively that this was a man who’d been born wearing imported suits and silk ties. Even his chestnut hair had fallen precisely back into thick waves when he’d raked his fingers through it.

“Dr. Reid was saying something about you needing assistance with a job?” she asked. It helped to look in the vicinity of his ear, she decided, rather than into his starkly handsome face. Because then she didn’t feel quite so much like a wrung-out dishrag in the face of his masculine elegance.

“I don’t know how I can help,” she went on. “As you can see, I’ll be busy for the next little while, and after that…” She trailed off.

After that it was back to her two jobs and the worry about paying the hospital bill. She’d already determined that the tuition for her next semester of college courses would have to wait.

“I believe we can help each other, Emma.”

She swallowed the dart of nervousness that rose when he crossed the room, passing the other bed—empty for now—before pulling out the chair opposite her.

Almost as if he recognized her reaction, he seemed to consciously relax his rigid stance. He sat, rested his arms on his thighs. Clasped his long fingers together. Almost smiled, but didn’t quite make it. “As I was saying, I need a wife. A family.”

Good gravy, he smelled nice.

The thought shocked her. She moistened her lips. “Mr. Montgomery, I really don’t know what you—”

“Kyle.” He halted her confused words. “And I can explain. But it’s occurred to me that this isn’t the best time. You’re tired, and my offer might be better received after you’ve had some rest.”

“Mr. Montgomery…” Emma tugged self-consciously at the lapel of her robe, then flushed when his startling green gaze followed the movement of her hand. She’d been blessed, as her mama termed it, with a curvaceous figure by the time she’d turned fourteen. Becoming pregnant and having a child had only increased the problem.

She swallowed and tried again. “Kyle, I really can’t imagine how I can help you find your family. But you might as well tell me what’s on your mind now, because I’ll be leaving the hospital this afternoon and I—”

“Already?” Lush black lashes narrowed around his intense gaze. “Surely you’re not up to being released yet.”

She wondered if she’d accidentally been given some type of drug other than acetaminophen, because this was surely the oddest conversation she’d ever had. Mr. Mont—Kyle seemed distinctly annoyed. As if he suspected she was receiving inadequate care. “Women don’t spend days and days in the hospital anymore when they give birth, Kyle. I’m healthy, as is my baby. Everything went just fine.” Thank heavens. “And studies show—”

“I wasn’t casting aspersions on the medical care you’re receiving. I was just surprised.” He sat back in his chair, laying one arm on the minuscule table beside it. Emma had the strongest impression he was mentally drumming his fingers against the tabletop. “Right. I apologize for the timing here, but Dennis Reid seemed to think you might be able to help me, and I’m running short of time.”

“Do you think I know your wife? What is her name?”

“I don’t already have a wife, Emma.” He hesitated for a fraction of a second. Just long enough to make her stomach drop to her toes. “I need one. And I’m hoping you’ll be her.”

Thank goodness she was sitting. Because if she hadn’t been, she’d have ended up on the floor. “Mr. Montgomery,” she said firmly, “I don’t know what Dr. Reid led ya’ll to believe about me, but—”

“I’m going about this wrong.” He sat forward again, bringing with him that tantalizing scent of expensive aftershave. No drugstore brands for this man. He was strictly the charge-by-the-quarter-ounce type.

He linked his fingers together again, regarding her with eyes that gave no hint of the manic mind he must possess. “Dennis said I could count on your discretion.”

He seemed to be waiting, so she nodded hesitantly. The call button was just out of her reach, but if she leaned to the side, she could probably get to it. She would get to it, because she was a mother now. She would protect her child with every fiber of her being, and that meant she also had to protect herself. Even from a sinfully attractive madman.

“I run ChandlerAIR,” he continued calmly. “Have you heard…Yes, I can see by your expression that you’ve heard of us. I’m in the middle of some delicate negotiations with a company we are acquiring. The founder of this company has some old-fashioned ideas about how he likes to do business.” Kyle paused, as if she needed a moment to digest what he was saying.

She nodded, since she didn’t know how else to respond.

Kyle’s lips twisted slightly and he turned his attention to his hands. “He refuses to deal with anyone who is not the fine upstanding family man he is,” he elaborated. “Acquiring this other company will benefit ChandlerAIR, but it will also help the economy here in Buttonwood. Provide jobs. Increase tourism—”

“I understand the economic benefits, Mr. Montgomery. Surely this other man would understand that, as well, wouldn’t he?” She brushed back a lock of hair and was dismayed to realize her hand was trembling.

“Payton Cummings is perfectly happy to retain control of his company as long as he needs to until he finds the right opportunity. The right—”

“Family man,” Emma murmured.

“Exactly.” Kyle’s lips tightened for a brief moment. “I’m more determined to see this acquisition through than Cummings is. Assuming the trappings of a family man is something I’m prepared to do to attain my goals.”

“But…but why me? Someone in your company, your girlfriend…”

“I don’t have one.”

Men who looked like Kyle Montgomery always had a woman in the background somewhere. Whether they admitted it or not. She swallowed the bitter thought.

“I don’t have time in my life right now for personal entanglements,” he was saying, his voice deep and smooth. “And I don’t want to create any ties with my associates that might later cause discomfort.”

“Discomfort,” Emma repeated. It was the word so often used to describe childbirth to prospective parents. She considered it singularly inadequate to describe the reality. “But with me, a total stranger, there would be no cause for later…discomfort.”

“Essentially, yes. I’m new to this area, Emma. I’ve bought a house and I’m moving ChandlerAIR’s corporate offices from Denver. Having a family that lives here dovetails nicely with what Cummings already knows about my plans.”

“Then he probably already knows you’re not married.”

“He doesn’t.” There was no room for doubt in his assurance.

She argued, anyway. “You can’t know that. I’ve seen articles now and then about your company. About the services you offer and its success.” Phenomenal success, if Emma recalled correctly. She also recalled his company being praised particularly for its progressive policies toward its employees. “I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t follow the business pages very closely. But even I know a little about your company. A man you’re plannin’ to do business with like you’ve described would obviously know a great deal more. Including some personal details.”

Kyle nodded. “Those are valid points. But until last year when he moved to Durango, Cummings had been living in New Mexico. Our paths didn’t cross. Besides which, I’ve always kept my private life private. Only my closest associates know much about me personally. I prefer it that way.”

Emma couldn’t imagine it. There were times she suspected every resident of Buttonwood knew the business of everyone else. It was almost as bad as her hometown in Tennessee. “But to suddenly produce a wife? I just don’t see how you can possibly hope to fool anyone.”

His eyes narrowed. “I can count on your discretion, can’t I, Emma?”

She winced. “As if anyone would believe me if I went around announcing that a guy like you walked into my hospital room one morning and asked me, a simple waitress, to be his wife.”

He frowned. “For appearances only,” he corrected. “I meant no offense. This is a delicate situation. Cummings already thinks I’m married. But he’s been showing more interest in that area of my life, and I’m going to have to introduce him to my wife, I feel certain, before he’ll close the deal.”

“You told him you were married because he wouldn’t do business with you otherwise?”

“I told his stepdaughter I was married when she came on to me at our first meeting.”

“Oh,” Emma murmured.

Kyle grimaced. “I didn’t want to jeopardize my plans. It seemed, at the time, the easiest way.”

“And you couldn’t have just said you didn’t want to mix business with pleasure?”

“Let’s just say that Winter Cummings is a determined woman who doesn’t necessarily hold with her stepdaddy’s values.”

Kyle’s hand moved and Emma realized he was unclenching his fist.

“Ironically, once word reached Cummings that I’d been recently married, he was willing to meet with me himself. I wasn’t going to derail the deal by getting into explanations.”

She was believing every word that left his lips. He was utterly serious.

And his seriousness seemed far more dangerous than his being nuts. “Perhaps Mr. Cummings and his crew aren’t the type of people with whom you want to do business,” she suggested faintly.

Kyle smiled tightly. “I want Payton Cummings’s company,” he said. “If it takes a family to get it, I’ll produce a family. At least for show.”

Emma swallowed. “But to…to marry strictly for the purpose of a business deal? That seems so, well, extreme, don’t you think?”

“It wouldn’t be a real marriage,” he said. “I just need you and your son to pose as my family. The two of you would move in with me—strictly business,” he assured when she caught her breath audibly.

“But, sugar, it would be a lie.” Her face heated as the words burst out.

Kyle felt an odd stirring when he let himself look at the young woman opposite him. Her melodic voice had been growing increasingly smooth, like warm honey. There was more than a touch of the South in this dark-haired beauty. He’d had women call him all sorts of nicknames from darling to pig, but he knew he’d never been a sugar. He dragged his thoughts front and center, where they belonged. “I have to consider the weight of what I’m trying to accomplish.”

“Ah.” She nodded, her big brown eyes studying him steadily. “The old ‘end justifies the means’ reasoning.”

“I want to add more flights, Emma,” he said truthfully. “More flights, more service, more employees. The only people who will be hurt if ChandlerAIR’s acquisition of Cummings Courier Service falls through at this late date will be the considerable number of people within the Four Corners area who won’t be able to work for me. That’s four states, Emma. Colorado, Utah, Arizona and New Mexico.”

“I did pass geography, Mr. Montgomery. And regardless of your motives, it still doesn’t make lyin’ right.”

His jaw hardened. He’d had this argument with himself too many times already to want to sit here and go through it with this young woman. He’d spent too many years planning. Waiting for just this opportunity. To finally take the action that, while it wouldn’t reverse the past, would go a long way toward evening the score.

If producing the family Payton kept harping on got Kyle to his goal, then produce a family he would.

ChandlerAIR would survive if the deal to acquire CCS didn’t go through. His company was strong and solid because he’d devoted his existence to it for most of his adult life. But taking over CCS was an action that went beyond business.

And he had no intention of discussing his personal motives with this young woman, no matter how honeyed her voice. “I prefer to look at it as expedience. And perhaps we should agree to disagree on the point,” he said.

“Might be wise,” she murmured, shifting in her chair.

A fine white line appeared around her softly compressed lips at the movement, and he felt a jab of conscience. She’d just had a baby. Sitting here arguing ethics was undoubtedly the last thing she’d expected to be doing today. “Miss Valentine. Emma. Give my offer some thought.” He kept his voice calm even though his impulse was to push the issue. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Far from calming her, however, her face blanched. “I’m sorry, Mr. Montgomery.” Her tone said she was anything but. “I can’t help you.” Her hands curled over the sides of the chair and she pushed herself gingerly to her feet.

He rose, automatically reaching out to assist her, but the frosty look she gave him had him keeping his hands to himself. He felt awkward and inept, something he hadn’t experienced for at least twenty years. Yet watching her slowly maneuver herself to the hospital bed without offering assistance went against his grain.

“One of my sisters had a baby last year,” he said.

“How nice,” she murmured.

It would have been so simple just to lift her off her feet and deposit her on the bed—much easier than watching her efforts to climb into it. He looked away, shoving his hands in his pockets. When his sister had been in the hospital after giving birth, her room had been filled to overflowing with flowers, plants, balloons and assorted baby gifts. The only thing personal in this room was one small green plant with a cheerful smiley-face balloon sticking out of it.

At the rustle of sheets he let his gaze travel back to her. Emma was still bundled in the thick robe and looked as if she’d just as soon be buried in it as remove it with him present.

This wasn’t going at all the way he wanted. Needed.

He started to reach up to loosen his tie, then realized he’d left it in his car, so it wasn’t a tie that made him feel choked. “Is someone picking you up this afternoon to take you home?”

She folded her arms across the top of the sheet and sighed faintly. “You’re not going to go away, are you.”

It hadn’t been a question. He answered, anyway. “Emma, this is too important for me to go away.” How many times had he removed an obstacle from his path simply because of his ability to outlast, outthink, outmaneuver?

Only this time, the obstacle in Kyle’s path had smudgy shadows beneath her eyes and slender shoulders he was certain were being held straight through sheer grit. “But I can see you’re exhausted. So I’ll come back later when you’re released and get you settled at home. We can discuss this more then.”

“There is nothing to discuss. Besides, I have my car here and I’ll be getting myself and my son home just fine.”

“Your car is here? Did someone drop it off for you?” He pulled his hands from his pockets and wrapped them around the metal rail at the foot of her bed. Kyle had specifically asked Dennis Reid if there was a man in the picture with Emma Valentine. Reid had assured him that Emma was totally on her own. The last thing Kyle needed was some love-struck fool bumbling onto the scene.

“I drove it here,” she said, surprising him into forgetting the issue of her single status.

“While you were in labor?”

“Yes,” she said with exaggerated patience. “And I’ll drive it home again this afternoon. I assure you I have the proper baby seat and everything, so stop frowning.”

“You have no one you could have called on?” If not the man responsible for her pregnancy, then a friend. A sibling. Someone.

Her lips firmed. “Whether I do or not is hardly your business, now is it?”

Kyle would have liked to debate that point, considering he was determined this woman would be his make-believe wife. But there was a loud rattle out in the corridor and the door swished open to reveal a young man in pristine white bearing a breakfast tray.

The orderly smiled genially at them, set the tray on a rolling cart and slid it neatly against the side of Emma’s bed, turning it so the tray hung over her lap. Then he lifted the cover from the food and left.

As Kyle peered at the bowl of cooked cereal, the puny foil-covered plastic cup of orange juice and a half-burned piece of toast, he thought of the fluffy omelet, crisp bacon and fragrant coffee Baxter had served him that morning. He’d barely taken time to appreciate the food or the way it had been served—on china at the wrought-iron glass-topped table on his patio.

“Are you hungry, Mr. Montgomery?”

“No, why?”

“You’re staring at my breakfast like you haven’t seen food in a month.” She didn’t look at him as she peeled back the foil cover of the juice.

“I haven’t seen a breakfast that looks like that in more than a month,” he muttered. “I’ll bring you back something more…appealing.”

She took a healthy swallow of the juice, then picked up a spoon which she plunged into the cereal. “I like hot cereal, Mr. Montgomery. Some people do, you know.” Her tone slowed like rich rolling drops of syrup. “Even rich folks, I’m told.”

He smiled, genuinely amused. “You think I’m a snob.”

Her hesitation was barely noticeable. “I can’t imagine what you mean.”

His amusement grew. “Neatly avoided and you didn’t have to lie.” Seeing the corners of her mouth twitch as if she was holding back a reluctant smile of her own, he decided it was a good time to retreat. On a high note, so to speak. “I’ll leave you to enjoy your oats and whey,” he said. “We’ll be talking again.”

“I don’t think so. Our paths are in different neighborhoods. I doubt they’ll cross again.”

He shrugged easily and headed toward the door. She didn’t know him yet, so she could have no idea how wrong she was. He stopped and turned. “Get some sleep after you eat,” he suggested. “It’ll be a busy afternoon taking your son home. What did you say his name was?”

She tilted her head. “I didn’t. Which you know very well.”

“He is a good-looking boy.”

Her eyes softened like rich melting chocolate. “Thank you. He is beautiful.”

“And his name? You’ve already given him one, I’m sure.” He smiled faintly. “I’ll bet you had his name picked out when you were only halfway through your pregnancy.” She seemed like the type of woman who’d have cherished every moment she carried her child. Very much the way his sister had.

“Four months along,” she admitted.

“And?”

She moistened her lips. Hesitated. “My son’s name is Chandler.”

Kyle absorbed that. “Well. Good name.”

“I named him after a very dear old friend from my hometown,” she said evenly. “A name I chose months ago, so wipe that smug look off your face.”

“Not smug at all, Emma. It’s just another indication that I’ve chosen the right woman for my wife.”

“Your pretend wife,” she corrected.

“That’s what I said.”

“Not exactly.”

“You like to have the last word, don’t you?”

“I’m a woman, Mr. Montgomery.”

“I did notice that, Miss Valentine.” He watched her cheeks blossom with pink. “And while I am but a humble man—” he ignored her soft snort “—I’m a determined one. Our paths will cross again, Emma. And again. Until I have your agreement that becoming my pretend wife benefits everyone.”

Her mouth moved, but no words emerged. He smiled and stepped out into the hall. “I’ll see you and Chandler later.”

The door swished closed, but he heard her honeyed voice in the moment just before it did. “Good gravy.”

He pushed his hands into his pockets and thought about the woman on the other side. She was perfect for his needs. He just needed to remember that his needs were strictly business. That her curvy body, from slender neck to trim ankles, was off-limits.

All he needed was a pretend wife. He’d keep his hands to himself. He’d keep his thoughts strictly on sewing up every last detail of acquiring Payton Cummings’s company.

So that when the day arrived that he dismantled every facet of that damned company, he’d have the personal satisfaction of knowing there wasn’t one thing Payton Cummings, Sr., could do about it.

Kyle let out a long breath and went in search of a flower shop.

Chapter Two

“Okay, Emma, this one is what we’ll use to file for Chandler’s birth certificate. Fill in the blanks, sign and leave it in the folder with the others. The state will send you the certificate once it’s recorded. You can leave the folder with the nurse when you’re released. Okay?”

Emma nodded and waited until the brisk I’m-from-Records-honey woman left. Then Emma looked down at the form and nibbled the inside of her lip. She’d been completing and signing forms for the past ten minutes. Financial forms, affirming that she didn’t have medical insurance and including a payment agreement that would take every cent of the pay she earned from her part-time teaching job for the next few years. Medical-information forms regarding the aftermath of childbirth. Even forms to purchase sets of newborn photos.

She’d ordered one eight-by-ten and six wallet-size ones simply because she hadn’t been able to resist the first photo of Chandler, his little fists pressed against his round cheeks and a snug blue cap covering his thatch of dark brown hair. But even the photos were an extravagance these days. Signing all those financial forms had brought home with a thump the responsibilities she had to shoulder. Alone.

Which brought her right back to the birth certificate information. She rolled the pen between her fingers, looking at the empty boxes. Mother’s maiden name. Location and date of mother’s birth. Father’s name.

The tip of her pen hovered over that last box. Father. It took much more than biology to make a father. It took love and commitment and dedication.

Yet all she had was betrayal and lies and a twelve-page legal document sitting in the closet of her apartment.

She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. Then she deliberately slashed a line through the father box before completing the rest, and placed the form, along with the others, inside the folder.

She looked at her watch and hoped the nurse came by soon with her release. She didn’t believe for one minute that Kyle Montgomery would be returning as he’d said that morning. Why would he?

He had money. He had incredible looks. He could find a make-believe wife wherever he wanted, making it worthwhile for some other woman. Personally Emma had had enough of rich men who thought they could either buy her presence or buy her absence.

The only man she was interested in was the tiny one sleeping in his carrier right beside her.

She looked down at Chandler, feeling tears threaten. Tears of gratitude for his sweet perfection she could happily shed. But tears filled with worry and fear about the days ahead, of managing, getting by—those tears she refused to indulge.

She was twenty-six years old. When her mama was that age, she had five kids. All daughters. Another year and she had six. The year after that, Hattie Valentine had stopped having babies, because her husband went off one night and didn’t come back.

A soft knock on the door caught her attention, and she pushed to her feet, tugging the hem of her cotton maternity top over her hips. Nell Hastings smiled and pushed the door wide until it stayed open on its own. “I’ve got your ride here, Emma.” She patted the bright blue wheelchair, her eyes twinkling. “Is that all your stuff in that bag?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, but tucked the handles of the big plastic sack that held bottles of water, formula samples and diapers over the back of the wheelchair.

Emma handed the motherly nurse the folder of paperwork and sat in the chair, holding Chandler in his carrier on her lap as Nell pushed her to the sidewalk outside the small hospital. Emma could see her orange car in the parking lot. She swallowed, thinking it was stupid to feel nervous about leaving the hospital. She could do this. She looked down at her sleeping son. She would do this. She climbed out of the wheelchair. It wasn’t as if she had no friends to support her decisions. To laugh with. To cry with. She just didn’t have a husband. And she’d turned down the offers of a ride home from the hospital. She’d start out as she intended to continue. Depending on herself.

“Emma, you and Chandler are going to be just fine. But you get nervous about anything, you just call. Okay?”

“Thanks, Nell. When I’m back at work, I’ll treat you to pie and coffee.”

The nurse patted her ample hips. “I don’t need pie, but I’ll take you up on that.” She helped Emma with the plastic bag and overnight case before turning the wheelchair around and heading back inside.

“We can do this, right, Chandler?” With the plastic sack slung over one shoulder, the strap of her overnight bag over the other and Chandler’s carrier cradled between her arms, Emma slowly headed toward her car.

When she reached it, she had to set everything down on the ground, though, because her keys were buried somewhere in the overnight bag. Chandler was starting to stir, and she moved his carrier onto the hood of her car, humming to him while she dug blindly through her bag.

“Looks like you could use an extra hand.”

Emma gasped, automatically closing her arm over the carrier. She looked across the hood of her ancient car to the gleaming late-model sports car against which Kyle Montgomery leaned lazily. Her heart was thudding only because he’d startled her, she assured herself.

“My two hands are quite sufficient,” she said, flushing when the words came out sounding breathless. She swept her hand once more through the interior of her case searching, searching.

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Emma swallowed and pulled the case in front of her, pushing aside the clothing she’d worn to the hospital in her search. She was certain she’d dumped the keys in the bottom of the case.

“You’re overflowing there.”

She frowned, looking up. Right there, large as life, was her white cotton bra, D cup and all, hanging drunkenly over the side of the case. She hastily shoved it back inside, finally encountered the sharp edge of a key with her fingertip and pulled the set out triumphantly. Without bothering to refasten the zipper of the case, she hurriedly unlocked the car and dumped the two bags inside, rolled the car window halfway down and reached for the baby carrier. From the corner of her eye, she could see Kyle still leaning against his car.

He’d added the tie that had been missing that morning. Looking just as spit-polished as she’d figured he’d look. She swallowed and tried blocking him from her sight as she bent over her baby.

Though she’d practiced fastening the baby carrier into the stationary base that was already in the car, she fumbled the job. Chandler started whimpering and Emma crooned soothingly to him as she tried again. But the latch wouldn’t connect.

Painfully aware of Kyle’s gaze, which she couldn’t seem to ignore no matter how hard she tried, she worked at the carrier again. And again. Chandler started crying in earnest. “Oh, pumpkin, don’t,” she murmured, trying to distract him with the pacifier the nurse had sent with them. But Chandler wasn’t interested in the pacifier, and his newborn wail rose.

The panic rose in her far too easily. Her knees felt wobbly and all she wanted to do was lie down. She took a deep breath and tried fitting the carrier into place once more. What was wrong with the thing?

“Let me give it a try.”

Emma looked over her shoulder at Kyle, who’d moved to stand behind her. His wide shoulders blocked the bright afternoon sun in a way that no man wearing a silk tie should be able to do. “I can do it.”

“I’m sure you can,” he said mildly. “But that’s the same model I bought my sister when she had her baby. Remember, the one I told you—”

“I remember.” Feeling cross, she pulled the carrier back out of the car and propped it between her hip and the open car door while she tried coaxing Chandler to take the pacifier. At last he did, his cries ceasing as his lips worked rhythmically.

“He’s hungry.”

“I’m aware of that.” And her breasts positively ached for relief. But she wasn’t going to tell this man that. Not that she needed to, she realized with a hot flush, because his eyes had definitely been eyeing her there. “Don’t you have planes to fly somewhere or something?”

His eyes crinkled and he gently, firmly, nudged her out of the way, easily replacing her hands on the carrier with his own. “I am a pilot,” he said as he leaned into the car. “But unfortunately the business end of things keeps me on the ground pretty much these days. There. All set.”

He straightened and Emma could see the carrier had been transformed into a secure car seat. Naturally. She felt like bawling. “I…Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He looked at her, not smiling, just being male and competent and calmly accepting the tears collecting in her eyes. This last made the urge to cry magically fade. “I’ll follow you home.”

His statement was oddly appealing. And as such, completely out of the question. She blinked, moved away from him and his hypnotic scent, and pushed the door closed. He either had to move or have his hip banged.

“What for? To see if I can release the carrier once I get there?” She knew she was being rude. He had helped her with the carrier, after all. But criminy, the man seemed incapable of taking no for an answer. “I don’t know how to get it through to you, Mr. Montgomery, but you cannot buy me into playing your pretend-marriage game.”

His eyebrows peaked. “Buy?”

“So please just go make your offer to some other woman.” Some other woman who can think straight when you look at her with those green eyes.

“Buy?” he repeated.

Emma propped a steadying hand on the car, her attention veering from Chandler to Kyle and back again. Chandler, for the moment, seemed satisfied with his pacifier.

“Yes. Buy.” Did she have a For Sale sign tattooed on her forehead that was visible only to men or something? “I’m no actress, Mr. Montgomery, and my mama always told me that anyone with eyesight could see in my face when I was telling a lie. Frankly I can’t imagine what you could pay that would make attempting such a pretense worth my while. I’d be lying not only for your business deal but also to my friends here. So please, take your…offer to someone else.”

She jingled her car keys. Decided she wasn’t finished. “Better yet, Mr. Montgomery, make your business deal with this other man without lying at all. Don’t you think a man who has such staunch values as you’ve described would prefer a man of integrity to a man who’d resort to a ruse to get his way? Just tell him how the whole misunderstanding began with his stepdaughter.”

Kyle shook his head. “My integrity is intact, thanks,” he said shortly. “And you are making too much of a simple thing, Emma. If the pretense bothers you so greatly, I guess I’m willing to make it a legal reality. An annulment after the merger is complete and our lives will continue on as if nothing had ever happened.”

“Oh, sugar, that’s even more ridiculous. I’m a complete stranger to you, but you’re willing to marry me to pull off some business deal. Yet you’re not willing to tell some man you don’t really have a wife, after all? Have you listened to yourself? Do you know how insane that sounds?” Frankly, she thought, a woman would have to be dead to continue on as if nothing had ever happened after meeting Kyle Montgomery. And she was as insane as he was to be debating the merits of such a ridiculous scheme with him.

“I know exactly what I’m proposing, Emma. I haven’t gotten to where I am in life by making foolish choices. Choosing you to be my wife, pretend or otherwise, may be a calculated risk, but it’s not remotely insane.”

Emma just shook her head and slowly walked around the car to the driver’s side, using the car as a support to lean on as she moved. She pulled open the door, then looked at him over the roof. “It’s a lovely summer afternoon, Mr. Montgomery. Take a walk in the park over there between the buildings. The flowers are beautiful this time of year. Or go across the street to the diner and tell Millie that you’d like a piece of her indescribably delicious blueberry pie. Tell her I sent you and that it’s on me, even. But please, please, give up this ridiculous plan of yours. I can’t be a part of it.”

“You refuse to be, you mean.”

“Is there any difference?” She squinted into the sunlight. “My integrity isn’t for sale.”

“If I thought it was, Emma, I wouldn’t have decided you were exactly the person I needed to help me.” He stepped closer to the car, pinning her with his intense gaze. “When I said I’d make it worth your while, I merely meant that I wouldn’t expect you to give up the next six weeks or so of your life without some recompense. I was thinking more on the order of covering your medical costs for the baby. Establishing a trust for Chandler’s future. Providing medical insurance for you and your son for the next several years, at least until you can obtain your music-education degree and become established in your career.”

Her lips parted. “How did you know—”

“I know a great deal.”

She closed her mouth. All a person had to do was go into the diner a few times and he could learn all the gossip he wanted about the waitresses and regular customers. Most everybody who went into the diner knew what her field of study was and how long she’d been inching toward her degree. She didn’t need to start conjuring up silly notions of investigations and dossiers. Just because that was what Jeremy’s family had—

She closed off the thought. She wanted to go home and get off her feet for a while, feed her son, hold him close and pretend that her body didn’t ache as if it had been twisted inside out.

“Goodbye, Mr. Montgomery. It’s been…interesting meeting you.” She slid into the car, catching her breath at the sharp “discomfort” of the sudden movement.

As she backed out of her parking spot and drove away, she could see Kyle in her rearview mirror. His hands were pushed in his pockets, his stance relaxed. The afternoon breeze ruffled his chestnut hair.

She pulled up at a stop sign, waiting for the traffic to clear, and looked over at her son. “That man is more trouble than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Chandler blinked his round eyes and sucked enthusiastically at his pacifier. Emma was certain he was agreeing with her.

Emma’s apartment was a simple studio over the detached garage behind a big old house owned by Penny Holloman. As soon as she pulled up beside the garage and climbed out of the car, she heard Penny call from the back porch. She watched as the older woman skipped down the porch steps and started across the expansive yard.

Emma smiled with real pleasure and waved at her landlady. She reached in and unstrapped Chandler from the carrier, deciding just to leave it where it was, and carefully lifted his warm little body out just as Penny reached her side.

“Oh, sweetie, he’s just a peach.” Penny brushed her hands down her colorful shirt before reaching out. “Let me take him. You must be exhausted. I swear, when I had Elliot, they kept me in the hospital for a week. Was I ever glad, let me tell you. The last thing I wanted to do was get back home and start cooking three meals a day when I was a nervous wreck about doing something wrong with a new baby.”

Emma’s arms felt empty when Penny took Chandler into her own. But the other woman was oohing and ahhing over him, obviously delighted to hold him. Emma collected the plastic bag and her case and drew in a breath as she faced the wooden steps leading up the side of the garage to her apartment.

“I just got home myself, and I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to meet you at the hospital,” Penny chattered on, taking Emma’s overnighter from her. “You shouldn’t be carrying that,” she chastised, heading up the stairs. “If I could have canceled my meeting, I would have. I feel terrible that you drove yourself home like this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Emma followed her landlady more slowly. Once she got Chandler fed and settled, she was definitely going to take a few of those extra-strength pain relievers her doctor had advised. “Megan agreed to, but I said no. We were fine.” She made it to the landing and pushed open the door, stopping short. “Oh, my!”

Penny laughed and rested her cheek on Chandler’s head. “Isn’t it fabulous? Why didn’t you tell me you’d met a man? Because I know for certain that good-for-nothing Jeremy St. James would never have been so extravagant.”

Emma cautiously stepped into her apartment. Glorious displays of summer flowers decorated every single surface. An enormous bouquet of yellow and white balloons hovered above her small round dining table. “I haven’t met a man,” she murmured faintly. Cheerful daisies graced the small table just inside the door and she touched one of the blooms. “Well, nobody except…No. He wouldn’t have. He couldn’t—”

“Who? Kyle Montgomery perhaps? He is a handsome one. And quite determined, too.”

Emma felt light-headed. She dumped the plastic bag on the floor and cautiously lowered herself to the couch. “Kyle…was here?”

“Earlier today.” Penny nodded. She flipped open a changing pad on top of the table and gently settled Chandler on top of it. In seconds she’d changed his diaper and carried him back to Emma. “There you go, sweetie. You feed him and I’ll get some lunch started for you.”

Emma had a lot of questions, but her son’s hunger was the primary need. She opened her blouse and situated her son in her arms. He latched on greedily and she chuckled and winced both at once. “Good thing you know what you’re doing there, pumpkin, ’cause if it was up to me, I’d still be fumbling around.”

Penny must have heard her, because she laughed lightly. “When Elliot was born, bottle feeding was the preferred choice. Herman was horrified when I insisted on nursing our baby.” She came back into the room, carrying a tray with a sandwich, a cup of soup and a tall glass of lemonade, which she set on the metal footlocker Emma used as a coffee table. She nudged it within reach of Emma, then pushed the footrest she’d given Emma for Christmas the year before next to the couch.

Emma lifted her feet onto it and let out a long relieved breath. But Penny wasn’t finished. Not until she’d taken Emma’s two bed pillows from the top shelf in the closet where they were kept during the day and propped them behind Emma’s neck and under her knees.

“There. That’s better, isn’t it?” Penny patted her hand and continued moving around the small apartment, unpacking the few items from Emma’s overnighter and adding the baby items from the plastic bag to the secondhand chest of drawers Emma had found. “Too bad your mother can’t be here to help you,” Penny said.

Emma shook her head. That was the last thing she needed. “Mama’s helping my sisters back home with the grandkids she already has.” She shifted against the pillows and sighed sleepily. “She doesn’t understand why I’m a single mother, anyway, so her helping would have been accompanied by a lot of lectures I don’t want to hear. Once a week is plenty for me.”

“The only one needing a good lecture is that pimple on the face of society who left you to fend for yourself.”

Emma managed to smile at the caustic description of Jeremy St. James.

“Fortunately I’m able to wholeheartedly say that I approve of your new choice,” Penny went on.

“If you’re referring to Kyle Montgomery, he is not my new choice. He’s just…”

Penny waited expectantly, her eyes sparkling with expectation. “Just handsome enough to make even my old bones sit up and take notice?”

“You’re not old.”

Penny chuckled. “Old enough to know a perfect match when I see one. A grown man doesn’t track down a landlady at a church committee meeting to gain access to his young lady’s apartment where he proceeds to fill it with every flower known to humankind if he’s not totally smitten.”

Totally determined, totally insane and totally off-limits. “I don’t even know the man,” Emma insisted. “I met him just this morning.”

A fact that seemed to delight Penny even more. “Well, you certainly made an impression on him,” she said. “I’ll leave you to rest now, but I’ll come back this evening with some supper for you.”

“You don’t have to do that, Penny. I can manage.”

Penny stopped at the door and shook her head. “I know you can manage, sweetie. But sometimes you don’t have to do it all on your own, so let me help in the ways that I can.” She plucked a small white envelope out of the daisy arrangement and handed it to Emma. “Your admirer left this for you.” She winked and went out the door, shutting only the outer screen. Emma heard her footsteps on the stairway, then all was quiet again, except for the thumping of her pulse in her ears.

She nibbled the inside of her lip, turning the small envelope over in her fingers. He had nothing to say that she wanted to hear. Or, in this case, read.

“Oh, Emma, honestly. It’s just a card.” She tore open the envelope and pulled out the flat card.

Chandler is blessed to have such a lovely mother.

Emma’s eyes blurred. She looked down at her son to find him looking up at her. “We’re both blessed, aren’t we, pumpkin? I just figured that a man like Kyle Montgomery wouldn’t be able to see that.”

She lifted Chandler to her shoulder and readjusted her clothes. Kissing his cheek, she brought her legs up onto the couch and lay back, cradling him securely.

Then she closed her eyes and they both slept.

Chapter Three

By the next morning Emma decided she owed her mother an apology. Hattie Valentine had had six daughters, managing to feed and clothe them all, for the most part single-handedly.

Emma, however, seemed to be completely out of her element with just one baby. Chandler wanted to eat every other hour, which meant she got very little sleep. Sometime in the middle of the night she gave up on the notion of having the baby sleep in his bassinet and just kept him in bed with her. She stacked diapers and wipes on the floor beside them and slept when he slept. Fed him when hungry, changed him when wet.

This was not at all the way it was supposed to go, according to her Now You Are a Mother! book which spouted tripe about four-hour schedules and other such nonsense.

By midmorning, her small home looked like a tornado had torn through it, leaving flowers and minute baby T-shirts and receiving blankets behind.

Penny came by, took in the chaos without a blink of surprise and shooed Emma into the bathroom where, she assured her, she’d feel better after a nice long shower.

“As soon as I’m under the water, he’ll be hungry,” Emma had protested tiredly. “I’ll shower…oh, I don’t know, when he’s two years old.”

Penny had laughed and scooped Chandler off Emma’s lap. “I think I hear a verse of the baby blues somewhere in there.” She’d waved toward the bathroom. “Go on now. You need a few minutes for yourself.”

Emma wasn’t so sure, but she’d gone. She looked at herself in the mirror, grimaced and turned on the shower. A half hour later she emerged to find her apartment tidied up, Chandler sleeping and Penny nowhere in sight.

“Sure,” she whispered lovingly over Chandler in the bassinet. “Now you sleep.”

A creak on the stairs outside told her someone was coming up. Probably Penny. Emma adjusted the strap of her red sundress and smoothed back her wet hair. “You were right,” she said as she went to the wood-framed screen door and pushed it open. “I do feel better.”

“My sisters always say that flowers make a woman feel better,” Kyle Montgomery said smoothly as he reached the top step and smiled at her. He looked dismayingly appealing in pleated khakis, a whiter-than-white collarless shirt and navy jacket. Laugh lines fanned out from his eyes. “Your landlady said you were up and about. You look very nice in red. Fresh as a wild poppy.”

Emma flushed. Her hair hung straight and wet to her shoulders, her feet were bare, and the poppy-red dress stretched too tightly across her chest. She crossed her arms and moistened her lips. “Thank you for the flowers and card. It was very nice.”

A smile flirted with his lips as he looked at her. “May I come in?”

Emma swallowed. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll probably end up being rude to you, and being surrounded by beautiful flowers from you when that happens seems like it’d be in poor taste.”

“Rude? Ah, Emma, I think you’ve just been honest. I’m glad you like the flowers, though. I have one sister who insists roses are the only flower worth receiving, but you didn’t seem like the rose type to me.”

“I’m allergic to them,” Emma said shortly. The last man to give her roses had thoroughly betrayed her. She wasn’t sure she’d ever disassociate roses from that awful time.

Kyle’s eyebrow peaked. “How fortunate I chose otherwise, then.” He reached past her through the doorway to the daisies sitting just inside and snapped off a bloom. He lifted his hand, frowning slightly when Emma gave a startled jump.

She clenched her teeth, flushing again when he tucked the short stem of the daisy behind her ear. She swallowed and stepped away from the door, silently allowing him entry.

He walked to the center of the living area, seeming to dominate the space. “How’s Chandler?”

Emma shut the screen quietly. “Fine. Sleeping at the moment.”

He nodded, glanced at the blank wall opposite the couch. “Why did you get rid of the piano?”

Emma frowned. “How do you know I had a piano?”

He walked over to the spot where her upright had stood for three years. He brushed a leather boot over the permanent indentations the heavy instrument had made in her taupe-colored carpet. “I noticed the marks on the rug earlier. Why, Emma?”

She shrugged. “I’m sure you’ve already come to your own conclusion.”

“You needed the money.”

“I had other payments that were more important,” she corrected.

“How long have you played?”

“The piano?” Not long enough. “Since I was thirteen.” She’d been caught sneaking into the church back in Dooley, Tennessee. But instead of hauling her back to her mother with a few strong words, Reverend Harold Chandler had decided Emma could use the piano twice a week in the afternoons after school. They couldn’t afford lessons, but Emma had used the music books at the church, and by the time she’d graduated from high school, she’d taught herself enough to earn a modest music scholarship.

She owed a lot to Reverend Chandler.

“I envy you,” he said.

She lifted her eyebrows. “Whatever for?”

He shrugged. “I took piano lessons when I was sixteen. Never did get the hang of it. I could play the notes, I guess. Just not…the music.”

Oh, she really didn’t want to hear anything like that from this man. It bespoke a sensitivity in him she didn’t want to acknowledge. It was easier, safer, casting him as the rich man intent on doing a business deal no matter what.

After all, it wasn’t as if her one foray into the man-woman arena had been a terrific success. Her judgment had been faulty, her sensibility nonexistent.

Emma nibbled the inside of her lip and sat down on the couch. “Isn’t it a workday, Kyle? Shouldn’t you be out running your business rather than discussing the finer aspects of being a musician?”

“That’s what I like about you, Emma. You get right to the point.”

“Which is?”

He sat down on the other end of the couch and stretched his arm along the back. His jacket gaped, exposing more of the shirt he wore beneath.

Emma turned her eyes from the sight of his strong brown throat rising from the open collar.

“This is business for me, Emma. You know that.” He looked toward the bassinet situated near the table, presenting Emma with his profile.

It was as perfect as the rest of him. All sharp angles and utterly masculine.

“I was invited to Payton Cummings’s dinner party on Sunday evening. I’ve told him I can’t join them because I’ve other commitments. Family commitments. I’d prefer to back up that statement with some semblance of truth.”

His fingertips were inches from her shoulder and she shifted, putting more distance between them. “You’ve said you have sisters. Make plans with them. It’s less of a lie than using Chandler and me.”

Kyle shook his head. “Tell me what you need in life, Emma Valentine, and I’ll do my damnedest to make it so, if you’ll just help me with this. Forget about this buying notion you’ve got in your head and look at it as one favor for another.”

“I need my son,” she said, exasperated, “but I need no favors from you or any other man.” She pushed to her feet, pacing to the bassinet and back again.

“He really did a number on you, didn’t he?” Kyle’s gaze followed her. “The jerk who was stupid enough to leave you alone and pregnant.”

“You know nothing about it.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “No, I don’t. It’s your business entirely. But I can protect you from him.”

Emma swallowed. Little did he know she didn’t need protection from anyone, least of all the St. James family. They wanted nothing to do with her. Had ensured it. And she didn’t need Kyle Montgomery coming in here, smelling like a dream, reminding her how foolish she’d been.

Kyle rose and stepped close to her, bringing with him his addictive scent. He touched her chin with his finger. “I can protect Chandler.”

There was no wheedling in his voice. Only the simple utterly confident assurance of a man who’d been around long enough to know his abilities. One who’d been around enough to pinpoint the one thing that would penetrate her defenses.

“Come on, Emma. Help me.”

She hesitated. He was so close she could see the darker rim of green around his irises. “Kyle, I—”

“Yoo-hoo, anybody up there?” Footsteps pounded up the stairs outside and Emma blinked, stepping back. She cleared her throat and crossed to the screen door, looking out to see Millie Johnson, her boss at the diner, coming up. “I’ve brought food,” she said when she saw Emma. She lifted the cardboard box that was filled to the brim with foam containers and foil-wrapped packages. “It’ll last you a few days, and then I’ll replace it with more while I try to talk you into taking more than two weeks off with the baby. You need six weeks, and that’s that.”

Emma just shook her head. Her boss, her friend, had a heart wider than the Colorado sky. “Come on in, Millie. I’m not sure where I’ll put the food, though. Penny’s been keeping the fridge stocked, too.” She smiled wryly. “Apparently my friends think I’m in danger of starving to death on my own.”

“Oh, shush.” Millie brushed past her, stopping in surprise at the sight of a man inside. She recovered quickly, though, introducing herself as she strode across to the small kitchen.

Kyle raked his fingers through his hair, squelching an impatient sigh at this latest interruption. He’d been reaching her, dammit. He knew it. He’d seen it in her chocolate-brown eyes. He slid a business card from the inner pocket on his jacket and handed it to Emma. “I can be reached anytime, anywhere, at that number,” he said softly. “But I need an answer soon.”

She hesitated, obviously indecisive. But then she reached for the card, her slender fingers carefully avoiding his longer darker ones as she took it from him. “I gave you my answer yesterday.”

“Think about it,” Kyle suggested. “I’ll be in touch if I don’t hear from you.”

“A threat?”

Her sarcasm didn’t faze him. “I have no reason to threaten you, Emma. We can be on the same side. You’re completely safe from me.” He was making the promise to her as much as to himself, he realized. When she looked up at him with her wide wary eyes, he was reminded of fairy-tale heroines.

Disgusted with the direction of his thoughts, he strode to the door. He’d given up on fairy tales when he was seven. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you, Emma.” He left then, carrying the image of her studying his card with a sober expression on her lovely unadorned face.

After Millie’s brief visit, Emma fixed some lunch for herself and freshened the water for the flowers. Then Chandler awakened and she gathered her courage to give him his first bath. It was a rousing success, and as soon as she finished slipping his wriggling little arms and legs into his lightweight romper, he sighed with his whole little self and went to sleep, perfect as an angel.

Emma sat watching him for long minutes, nearly sitting on her hands to keep from touching him, from disturbing him simply because she wanted to feel his warmth. “My little man,” she whispered, then began humming under her breath. Her fingers automatically moved with the music that was vivid and brilliant in her mind, and realizing it, she clasped them in her lap.

It wasn’t as if she’d never play again, she reasoned. Every week when she worked with the children’s choir at the Benderhoff school, she’d be playing piano. But it wasn’t the same as sitting at her own instrument whenever she wanted, playing to her heart’s content.

“I’ll teach you to play,” she promised Chandler softly. Then she frowned as Kyle’s words whispered through her mind. He’d learned the notes, but he’d known the true heart of the music wasn’t there for him. “You’ll feel the music, too, pumpkin. Whether it’s piano or something else, we’ll share that joy. I know it.”

The afternoon was passing when she again heard feet on the steps outside. This time, however, she was expecting visitors, and she went to the door, smiling at the two women coming up. She’d met Taylor Fletcher and Megan Malone at the Buttonwood Baby Clinic when they’d all been taking the same childbirth classes. Except Megan was Megan Macgregor now, thoroughly adored by her new husband, Mac.

Megan had her baby, Tyler, in her arms and led the way up the stairs, while Taylor, enormously pregnant, followed more slowly.

Once they reached the top, Emma held open the door. “We should have met at the diner or something, Taylor. I just didn’t think about you having to climb the stairs.”

Taylor rolled her eyes and awkwardly settled on the couch, folding her arms across her belly. “Which is worse?” she asked breathlessly. “Me climbing stairs at this stage or you climbing stairs immediately after having a baby?” She looked over at the bassinet. “But you can bring Master Valentine over to see me, if you don’t mind, because I think I’m stuck here on the couch for the duration.”

Megan settled on the couch, too, resting Tyler on her lap. “Yup. Bring him over here, Emma. Let’s compare birthing horror stories and scare Taylor silly.”

Taylor snorted softly and Emma shook her head at the two women. She rolled the bassinet toward them, trying to jostle it as little as possible. Then she handed out glasses of lemonade and set a tray of cookies from one of the foil packages of Millie’s on the metal footlocker and sat down to catch up with her friends.

“So what’s with the floral display?” Taylor finally asked when all the gossip was expended. “It looks like you received flowers from every customer who has ever gone into Mom & Pop’s.”

“Kyle Montgomery,” Emma answered without thinking.

Megan’s eyebrows shot up. “As in Kyle Montgomery, head of ChandlerAIR? I read an article recently about him. He’s—”

“I know.” Emma folded her arms over the edge of the bassinet and gently smoothed Chandler’s hair.

“How did you meet him? I thought you were totally off men after what Jeremy St. James did.” Taylor tried to sit forward to reach the cookies, but couldn’t. Emma leaned over and handed her two.

“I am not off men,” Emma defended. “I just don’t need or want one, that’s all.”

“Famous last words,” Megan quipped.

“Besides,” Emma continued, ignoring Megan’s comment, “he’s not interested in me. Well, not that way.”

“Oh, now this is sounding really interesting,” Taylor said lightly. “Come on, Emma, tell me. Then I can live vicariously on the excitement in your life.”

“I wouldn’t call it exciting to have yet another man try to buy me off.”

Both her friends’ faces sobered.

“Oh, that’s not exactly right,” Emma admitted, feeling frustration well up all over again. “He visited me yesterday morning with the most outrageous proposition.” She told them the bare bones of Kyle’s suggestion. “I told him no, of course.”

“No!” Megan stared at her, dismayed. “But Emma, think of what a man like Kyle Montgomery can offer in return for your help.”

Taylor was nodding, too.

“It doesn’t matter,” Emma insisted. “I’ll manage just fine with Chandler.”

“How?” Taylor asked bluntly. “By selling your television set next? By taking on a third job? Emma, you’re barely scraping by, and only a week ago you told me your latest fantasy was buying health insurance.”

She’d expected her friends’ support. She stood up and began pacing. Among the flowers, she fancied that the memory of Kyle’s aftershave still lingered. “He’s just another rich man thinking he can buy his way through life. I don’t want any part of it. It’s dishonest.”

Megan rose too, cradling her baby in one arm and catching Emma’s hand with her other. “Emma, I know how hard this must be for you. But Chandler is here. You have to think about him. What’s best for him. Maybe taking this offer is something you should seriously consider.”

Emma looked away from her friend’s warm hazel eyes. “You agree with her, don’t you, Taylor?”

The younger woman nodded. “That’s what a good mother does,” she murmured. “Thinks of her child first.”

Emma felt her eyes burn. Taylor had already decided to give up her child for adoption to a family who could provide for her baby in a way she herself couldn’t. She was younger than both Megan and Emma, yet Emma felt that Taylor was quite possibly the bravest woman she’d ever met.

She dashed her hands across her eyes, then propped them on her hips, sniffing hugely. “Shoot-fire,” she said in her best Southern drawl. “This afternoon wasn’t supposed to be a weepy wallow. I’ve told the man no, so that’s all there is to it. He’s probably findin’ himself another young bride as we speak.” Then she focused on Megan. “And speaking of brides, how is married life treating you, Mrs. Macgregor?”

Megan smiled and said that married life was terrific, but her gaze met Emma’s meaningfully. Fortunately, however, she didn’t return to the subject of Kyle, and soon Taylor asked Emma if the labor and delivery was really just a matter of “discomfort” as the leaders of the childbirth class kept telling them.

Emma snorted and Megan laughed. Taylor blew out a huge breath and moaned. “That’s what I was afraid of.” She struggled to her feet to go to the bathroom.

“You’re still planning to return to work next week?” Megan asked Emma.

“To Benderhoff,” Emma said. “Their summer session begins and I’ll be teaching two afternoon classes there.” She’d always enjoyed the classes she taught part-time at the private school. But she was willing to teach this session specifically for the money it would bring. Money that would eventually pay the hospital bill. “Millie says that if I set foot in the diner before two weeks are up, she’ll shoot me with that shotgun she keeps in the back. If she had her way, I’d take off three times that long.”

“What about your fall semester?” Megan asked quietly. “How can you fit in your own classes?”

Emma swallowed, then managed a bright smile she knew didn’t fool her friend. “I’m going to take off next semester. It’ll be a nice break.” She just hoped the one semester didn’t stretch into two. Or three. She’d already spent so long working toward her degree that every delay was frustrating. Even this one.

Taylor came out then, pressing her hands to her back. Emma hugged her friends, thanked them for the baby outfits they’d brought for Chandler and watched them carefully descend the steps before climbing into Megan’s vehicle.

She stood on the landing for a few minutes, breathing in the crisp clear air. Someone was barbecuing nearby. She could smell the distinctive delectable scent of sizzling steak. A dog barked, and someone was mowing a lawn.

It was a beautiful summer evening. She had her health and a perfect child. There was no reason to feel the panic welling in her chest. No reason at all.

She went inside and picked up Chandler, rocking him in her arms as she paced her small living room. She didn’t look at Kyle’s card, which she’d left on the dining table. But she was painfully aware of it sitting there between a bouquet of bright orange day-lilies and a yellow balloon that had lost some of its helium and was hovering an inch over the table.

“I love you, pumpkin. I’ll never let you down,” she pledged, pressing her lips to Chandler’s head. He wriggled and Emma chuckled. “Always hungry. Well, food is something I seem to have lots of for you.”

Kyle called at precisely seven that evening. Emma’s answer hadn’t changed, but she was grateful he hadn’t shown up in person this time. It was difficult enough reiterating her “no” over an impersonal telephone line.

He didn’t sound unduly disturbed by their brief exchange, which made Emma think even more strongly that he probably had several other women waiting as backups. Kyle Montgomery was the kind of man who had best-case scenarios and worst-case scenarios planned to the nth detail.

While Chandler slept, Emma wrote thank-you notes for the various gifts and cards she’d received, then set about looking through the pile of mail she’d been receiving and ignoring for the past week.

There was a long chatty letter from her mother. All about Emma’s sisters—married sisters, that was—Emma’s nieces and nephews, and Hattie’s job at the grocery store in Dooley. There were cards from two of her regular customers at Millie’s and a letter from Benderhoff. Emma slit it open, expecting a note about the baby or about the upcoming session.

What she wasn’t expecting was the polite missive saying that her services wouldn’t be required, after all. She didn’t even rate a thank-you for the past two years.

She read it through twice, sure she’d misunderstood. She’d been teaching at Benderhoff steadily. Her work had always been more than satisfactory, or so she’d been told at each review period. Telling herself not to panic, she went into the kitchen and yanked out her telephone directory. She found the home number of Emil Craddock, the headmaster of Benderhoff and dialed it with a shaking finger. They wouldn’t do this to her. They couldn’t.

But five minutes later she hung up again, knowing that they had. She paced. She added numbers in her head. She thought of ways she could get by without the money—the rather good money—she’d earned at Benderhoff.

She finally pulled out her sofa bed, lay down with Chandler beside her and tried to make herself sleep while he slept. But sleep didn’t come. All she could remember was growing up in Dooley, getting her clothing secondhand from the rummage sales at church, doing the grocery shopping with her two older sisters, following their mama’s list to the letter because they had to pay with food stamps and only certain things were eligible.

At four o’clock in the morning Emma finally climbed out of bed and retrieved the business card from the table. She turned on the light in the kitchen and, heedless of the hour, reached for the phone, dialing hurriedly, before she lost her nerve. It rang only twice. Then Kyle’s voice, husky and deep, answered.

She swallowed, but the enormous knot in her throat didn’t go away. “Is your offer still on the table?”

“You know it is, Emma.”

She drew in a short breath. “Then I accept. I’ll pretend to be your wife until your business deal goes through.”

“I’ll be at your place in a couple of hours.”

A tear leaked from the corner of her tightly closed eyes. She was grateful that he didn’t express any undue pleasure or satisfaction. That his voice was as steady and sure as ever. “We’ll be ready,” she said.

Then she hung up and went to pack her clothes and Chandler’s stretchy little sleepers and diapers. They were the easy things.

She couldn’t help thinking, though, that she was also packing away her honesty. And that wasn’t easy at all.

Chapter Four

“This is everything?”

Emma rubbed her hand over Chandler’s back. She focused on the suitcases she’d left sitting in the center of her apartment. Kyle was picking them up with ease. “For now,” she replied.

He glanced over his shoulder at her, one eyebrow raised. “If there’s more, we might as well take them.”

“It’s just winter clothes and things that won’t fit Chandler for months yet.” By then, Kyle’s need for a wife would be past and she and her son would be back home. Her life would return to normal, and all that would remain to remind her of this time would be the knowledge that she’d had a price, after all.

“If you’re sure.”

She nodded, even though she wasn’t sure of anything, particularly with Kyle standing there with her discount-store suitcases tucked under his arms. They surely did clash with his Rolex watch, she thought.

Chandler squirmed and made a noise, and she pressed her lips to his head, cradling him closely. She stepped out of the way so that Kyle could go out the doorway, then she followed him, picking up Chandler’s diaper bag.

“Leave it,” Kyle said. “I’ll come back for it.”

The bag was stuffed to the gills with diapers and wipes and powder and lotion. It shouldn’t have weighed a ton, but it felt as if it did. She reluctantly left it sitting on the end table by the daisies and carefully descended the stairs. Kyle had stored the suitcases in the trunk and was waiting by the open passenger door.

Emma looked from his sleek black car to her sturdy orange sedan—ancient and built like a tank. “I should follow you. Then I’ll have my car and—”

“It would be better if you left your car here,” he said smoothly. “I’ve got a second vehicle at home that you can use to your heart’s content.”

Her stomach clenched uncomfortably, and she kept the rest of her suggestion to herself: that she could fit Chandler’s bassinet easily into her back seat. He probably figured her old car was too much of an eyesore for the rarefied atmosphere of his neighborhood.

Well, Emma Valentine, you’ve made your bed… She could almost hear her mother’s voice.

“I’ve already moved Chandler’s seat into the back seat of my car. Can you get him into it, or would you like me to?”

“I will.” She didn’t look at him as he placed his hand on the top of the open door, waiting. But she couldn’t help noticing the sprinkling of dark hair on burnished skin, taut tendons and strong, well-groomed hands.

Reaching into the narrow rear of his car was awkward, but she managed to get Chandler into the seat and fasten the harness. He slept through the whole process, but Emma felt positively out of breath by the time she straightened.

Kyle caught her elbow when she swayed. “You okay?”

She nodded and slid herself into the passenger side. A sinfully soft leather seat cradled her like loving arms. She gathered in the trailing hem of her ankle-length broomstick skirt, and Kyle pushed the door closed before heading up the steps again. She heard the slap of her wooden screen door and in moments he reappeared with the diaper bag.

He strode around to the driver’s side and set the bag in the back next to Chandler, then slid behind the wheel with an ease Emma couldn’t help but envy.

The engine came to life with a low throaty growl, and he backed away from the garage, her apartment, her car and her hold on reality.

She bit her lip, turning her eyes away from the sight. It was a gray dawn, and Penny’s house was still dark. She hadn’t even told her what she was doing. She’d have to call her. Make some type of explanation.

Kyle shifted gears, and when his hand inadvertently brushed her thigh, Emma jerked. He glanced at her without comment as he drove out of the alley onto the morning-quiet street.

Emma swallowed, the silence in the car weighing her down. She stared out the side window as they passed the diner and headed east. She wasn’t surprised. Naturally a man like Kyle would have his home in the wealthier section of town. Eastridge. She’d once had hazy dreams of living in one of the sparkling new homes with a three-car garage and a pool out back. Living in one of the homes as Jeremy’s wife.

They drove through the exclusive area. Passed the discreet sign that directed individuals to the outstanding Benderhoff facility. She stifled a sigh and looked over her shoulder at Chandler.

“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” Kyle said.

Emma nodded, and surreptitiously rubbed her palms down her thighs.

“Baxter will probably have breakfast waiting. I’ve got to go to the airport for a while. A few hours. But then I’ll come home and we can do some shopping.”

Who was Baxter? “Shopping?”

“For the nursery. I had a decorator in for most of the house.” He turned down an unmarked road, taking them into the rising sun.

Emma looked out the back window at the residential area they’d left behind.

“Something wrong?”

“No. I…well, I assumed you lived in Eastridge,” she admitted.

He shook his head and kept driving. And Emma, who had lived in Buttonwood for several years, realized she didn’t have a clue where they were. The paved road, only wide enough to accommodate two passing cars, curved and climbed. Then they rounded a sharp outcropping of rocks and shot down again, straight toward a spectacular house that seemed an actual part of the ridge that overlooked Buttonwood.

Kyle pulled up into a drive that was narrow simply because two-thirds of it was being excavated. He parked in front of the house before turning to look at Emma. He hoped she liked it. Only because he wanted her to be comfortable here, he rapidly assured himself. But she was facing out the side window and he couldn’t see her reaction, except for the fingertips she drummed silently against her thigh, which was draped with her purple-and-pink skirt. “I realize it’s not Eastridge, but do you think it’ll do?”

Her fingers went still and she looked at him. “It’s big.” Then her eyes widened slightly and her cheeks colored. “And…lovely.”

He smiled faintly. “Did you expect a circus tent or something?”

“No. No, of course not.” Her lips pressed together for a moment. “Who is Baxter?”

“Baxter?” Kyle looked beyond Emma toward the house. How to describe the man. His conscience? His friend? “My housekeeper,” he said after a moment. “But he’d say butler. He’ll be crazy about Chandler. You’ll probably see more of him than me, actually.”