Lanie had the smile of an angel. Achingly vulnerable. Completely kissable. Letter to Reader Title Page Dedication About the Author Letter to Reader Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Epilogue Copyright

Lanie had the smile of an angel. Achingly vulnerable. Completely kissable.

Garrett forgot for a second where they were or that Lanie was eight months pregnant. All he could think was that he wanted to kiss her, right then, right there. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d wanted to kiss a woman this badly.

Why did she have this effect on him? Did the woman weave some sort of magic spell?

Garrett stared determinedly out the narrow window, watching the occasional car pass outside the doctor’s office. He tried to think about a land development company he’d been considering buying for the Blakemore Corporation. He tried to think about his upcoming trip to Japan to consult on an overseas merger.

But no matter what he did, his mind kept drifting back to Lanie.

How would he feel if Lanie truly was his wife and she was having his baby...?

Dear Reader,

Silhouette Romance novels aren’t just for other women—the wonder of a Silhouette Romance is that it can touch your heart And this month’s selections are guaranteed to leave you smiling!

In Suzanne McMinn’s engaging BUNDLES OF JOY title, The Billionaire and the Bassinet, a blue blood finds his hardened heart irrevocably tamed. This month’s FABULOUS FATHERS offering by Jodi O’Donnell features an emotional, heartwarming twist you won’t soon forget; in Dr. Dad to the Rescue, a man discovers strength and the healing power of love from one very special lady. Marrying O’Malley, the renegade who’d been her childhood nemesis, seemed the perfect way for a bride-to-be to thwart an unwanted betrothal—until their unlikely alliance stirred an even more incredible passion; don’t miss this latest winner by Elizabeth August!

The Cowboy Proposes...Marriage? Get the charming lowdown as WRANGLERS & LACE continues with this sizzling story by Cathy Forsythe. Cara Colter will make you laugh and cry with A Bride Worth Waiting For, the story of the boy next door who didn’t get the girl, but who’ll stop at nothing to have her now. For readers who love powerful, dramatic stories, you won’t want to miss Paternity Lessons, Maris Soule’s uplifting FAMILY MATTERS tale.

Enjoy this month’s titles—and please drop me a line about why you keep coming back to Romance. I want to make sure we continue fulfilling your dreams!

Regards,

Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor Silhouette Romance

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The Billionaire and the Bassinet
Suzanne McMinn

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To the best friends a writer could have—Jill Shalvis and Mary Schramski.

SUZANNE McMINN

lives in a small Texas town. She always dreamed of being a writer, so she feels as if she’s living in a fantasy these days. And with a real life including a husband, three young children and a scary mountain of laundry that seems to grow all by itself, she needs an active fantasy life to keep her going! She hopes her readers enjoy coming along for the ride. Suzanne loves to hear from readers and can be reached at: P.O. Box 12, Granbury, TX 76048.

Dear Reader,

Babies! I love babies. I love the way they blow bubbles and coo and laugh and spit up.... Oh, wait a minute, now I remember why I stopped having them. Seriously, I had three babies before I could shake off the baby lust. My two boys, Ross and Weston, are in elementary school, and my daughter, Morgan, is three. They aren’t babies anymore, and maybe that’s why I love writing about that stage of a child’s life now. Babyhood passes swiftly, and sometimes it’s hard to enjoy it while it’s happening, because you are so tired from all those midnight feedings! Thank goodness for photographs to immortalize how they looked...and books to remember how it felt to love and cuddle them when they were little enough to fit into the crook of your arm. Whether you’ve already had your babies, or are still looking forward to that day in the future, I hope you enjoy reading The Billionaire and the Bassinet, and imagining along with me that special day when your newborn comes into your life. Ah! Babies...

Happy reading,

Suzanne McMinn

Chapter One

Lanie Blakemore opened her front door onto a sweet spring afternoon in Deer Creek, Texas and stared into a face she knew—and had never thought she’d see again.

Both a dazed numbness and a pulsing electricity hit her all at once. Was he real? A bizarre product of her imagination?

Around her the world sharpened. Bees buzzed merrily about the honeysuckle vines, their drone harmonizing with the flap of sheets from the backyard clothesline. The sugary scent of the cookies she’d just taken out of the oven mingled with the fragrance of freshly mown grass, carried up the street by the light May breeze.

She tried to reach out, touch him, find out if he was real—but she couldn’t. Her hands felt as if they belonged to someone else. Her heart hammered in her chest, deafening her to any other sound—to the birds chirping from their nest in the oak tree, to the distant hum of a car on the next street over, to the words coming out of the man’s mouth as he stood in front of her.

“Ben?” she whispered, one hand grappling for the door frame, her knees soupy. Her other hand went instinctively to her swollen stomach.

The man was saying something to her. At least, she could see his mouth moving. She still couldn’t hear him. A rushing sound filled her ears then, and in another second, everything went black.

Garrett Blakemore lunged forward, cursing, and scooped the woman in the doorway into his arms just before she struck the stoop. She felt surprisingly light, fragile.

It hadn’t occurred to him that his resemblance to Ben would shock his cousin’s widow to this extent. The last thing he’d meant to do was scare the living daylights out of her.

At least, he hadn’t meant to scare the living daylights out of her yet.

Moving quickly inside the house, Garrett adjusted his grip on the unconscious woman. Along with the strong, sweet fragrance emanating from the back of the house came the more subtle scent of something soft and feminine. Something that reminded him of springtime and apple blossoms.

Something innocently alluring.

Garrett pulled his thoughts up short. What was wrong with him? The innocence of Ben’s widow was definitely in doubt, and no amount of feminine allure could resolve that particular question.

What Garrett was after was proof. Hard, scientific evidence, one way or another, to show that Lanie had been telling the truth in the letter she’d sent. Ben’s father, Walter Blakemore, needed the truth—and Garrett owed it to the uncle who’d raised him to help find it.

And he owed it to Ben.

Garrett crossed from the foyer to the parlor of the old house, worried about the woman’s state of unconsciousness. Fainting couldn’t be good for anyone, and she was pregnant—that was obvious enough. At least that part of her letter hadn’t been a lie.

Garrett registered surprise at the contrast between the home’s faded exterior and its bright interior as he gently placed the woman on one of the long couches and sat beside her on the edge. The cozy parlor wasn’t what he’d expected.

Outside, a crumbling sidewalk led to a narrow front porch nearly consumed by unruly bushes. A worn sign stuck up from the midst of the scraggly lawn, its flowing pink letters announcing the home to be the Sweet Dreams Bed and Breakfast. The home itself looked to be about a hundred years old, with pink gingerbread trim decorating the flaking white wooden siding.

The inside presented a shining contrast. Soft peach walls and plump contemporary-style couches were set among gently aged antiques. Handwoven rugs decorated the polished oak floor. A vase of fresh-picked flowers cheered one corner. It was comfortable and warm and very, very feminine.

Awkwardly Garret patted Lanie’s hand, hoping for a response. She was young, he noticed as he sat beside her. Probably about the same age Ben had been. He’d seen her only once before, at Ben’s funeral. She’d arrived as the service had begun and had left the instant it ended. But he remembered her—remembered the soft blond waves, the delicately featured face, the mysterious eyes hidden behind dark glasses.

He remembered that she’d been the cause of so much misery in his family for so many months.

She looked small and vulnerable now. Her body, except for her swollen middle, seemed slender beneath the flowing T-shirt. And despite everything, he couldn’t help feeling a surge of some sort of primal, protective instinct. The sensation was unfamiliar. And unwelcome.

Focusing deliberately on the problem at hand, Garrett patted Lanie’s hand again and called her by name. She didn’t move. He thought back to his first aid training in college. He noted she wasn’t wearing anything constricting. The pink cotton shirt, with its soft, scooped neck, flowed loosely to her hips, with white, clingy leggings following the slender line of her thighs and calves below.

Very shapely thighs and calves, narrowing down to slim ankles and small feet encased in white tennis shoes.

Garrett swallowed, his gaze traveling back up her legs. Pregnant women weren’t supposed to be sexy, were they?

He was tired. That had to be it. He’d sworn off women after his marriage—a short-lived debacle that had finished off whatever naive delusions about love and trust he might have once had.

Apparently, however, his libido was in rebellion, reacting to anything female that came within fifty yards, no matter how inappropriate. Garrett took a deep breath and forced his gaze from Lanie’s shapely legs. He reached for one of the fat peach pillows tossed into a side chair and propped it beneath her ankles.

“Lanie?” he called again, softly. “Lanie?”

He ran a finger along her cheekbone, gently trying to rouse her. He wondered what color her eyes where, what had been hidden behind those dark glasses at the funeral. Minutes ago, when she’d opened the door, he’d barely had time to register anything at all. He hadn’t noticed if her eyes were brown or blue—

Suddenly, as he dropped his hand from her jaw, her lashes fluttered, and he had his answer. She had the most beautiful blue eyes he’d ever seen, bugger than the Texas Hill Country sky and at least as mysterious. Slowly, cautiously, she focused her gaze on him.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. Are you all right?”

Lanie blinked, remembering where she was, remembering the man in front of her. The man that looked like Ben—but wasn’t Ben.

She forced back tears. She’d thought, for just that one second—

“I’m fine,” she managed, her mouth cottony. She struggled to sit up, but fell back again as black spots filled her vision and nausea choked her. She felt weak, boneless.

“Careful. Not so fast.”

She noticed his voice. So like Ben’s, yet different. It was deeper, harder, darker—like so many other aspects of the man, she realized, as her vision once again cleared.

The likeness to Ben was only superficial, she could see now. This man’s hair was blacker and thicker than Ben’s, his shoulders broader, his jaw more square, his lips more sensual, his eyes more penetrating.

Swallowing dryly, she felt uncharacteristically vulnerable. And very much alone.

He was a Blakemore. He had to be. No one could look this much like Ben and not be a Blakemore.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his gaze unrelenting. He’d been sitting beside her, but now he stood, towering over her. He was tall, solidly built, larger than Ben.

“I’m fine,” Lanie said again, sounding feeble even to herself. She pushed herself up again, this time gingerly, until she came to a sitting position. Her body was starting to cooperate, thank goodness.

“I don’t—I’ve never fainted before,” she added self-consciously.

The episode embarrassed her. How long had she been out? How had she gotten from the back door to the couch? Of course he must have carried her. The thought of being held in the arms of this stranger made her incredibly uncomfortable.

She thought she remembered something, just as she came to—had that been his hand she’d felt on her cheek? All she remembered was the touch. The gentleness.

She frowned, bewildered by the clouded memory. Could this man with his hard mouth and cold eyes have touched her so tenderly? The skin of her cheek tingled with lingering awareness, confusing her further.

“Do you need to me to call a doctor for you?” he asked. His words were solicitous, but his demeanor remained impassive.

Lanie shook her head.

“I’m Garrett Blakemore.” His serious, hard eyes never left hers. “And you’re Lanie McCall, I take it?”

“Lanie Blakemore,” Lanie said automatically, not surprised. Since when had the Blakemores ever accepted her as one of their own? She’d only faced Walter Blakemore once, at Ben’s funeral. And the old man had coldly turned his back at her approach. A slap couldn’t have been plainer.

She worked to place Garrett’s name. Ben’s cousin, she remembered quickly. She recalled that he and Ben had been close as children, but not so much as they’d grown older. The two had been raised like brothers after Garrett’s parents had died in a plane crash. Garrett had fitted right into his uncle’s empire of wealth, real estate and business holdings. He loved the power, the pressure, the hours and the travel. All the wheeling and dealing that Ben had detested had come naturally to Garrett.

“I’m here on behalf of Walter Blakemore,” Garrett went on without acknowledging that she’d even spoken. “In regard to the letter you sent him.”

Lanie froze, instantly alert. Months of inner turmoil had preceded the letter. Ben had described his father as controlling, domineering, powerful. But this baby was a Blakemore, and her conscience had left her no choice. Walter Blakemore had the right to know his grandchild. And her baby, already robbed of one parent, had the right to know his grandfather.

“The baby isn’t due for another month,” she pointed out. What could Walter Blakemore want with her now, before the baby was even born?

“Right. Well, there are several things that need to be settled, if you feel well enough to talk.” Garrett arched a brow and waited.

“Settled?” Lanie’s nerves went on red alert. “What do you mean, settled?” An unfamiliar bunching sensation moved across her lower abdomen. Instinctively she slid her hand over her stomach. Then the pain receded, and she refocused on the man before her.

He moved to sit down in one of the chairs across from the couch. “Do you mind?” he asked politely, and Lanie shook her head again.

He chose a hard-backed chair. It was Friday afternoon—a business day. He’d probably spent the morning in an Austin boardroom before making the hour’s drive to Deer Creek, yet his shirt wasn’t even wrinkled. Somehow, his ultrameticulous appearance only added to the daunting aura that surrounded him. He was a man accustomed to wielding power, to efficiently dictating to the world around him—and having it obey him.

“Walter is concerned about the baby’s welfare,” Garrett said abruptly. “He’s worried about the baby being born in a rural area, where the medical care may be inadequate. He’d like to bring you to Austin—”

Lanie’s eyes popped. Shock drummed through her bloodstream. “What?” She had no intention of going anywhere!

“He’s prepared to provide you with a place to live, and the finest medical care until the baby is born. As you know, Ben was his only child, and if this is Ben’s baby, it will be his only grandchild and heir—”

“If this is Ben’s baby?”

“Of course,” Garrett went on, not responding to Lanie’s interruption, “paternity—and the child’s rightful inheritance—can only be established by the appropriate blood and DNA testing which we will arrange to have performed at the time of the child’s birth—”

“No!” Hurt, more than she’d thought possible, considering she barely knew Walter Blakemore, washed over Lanie. Just knowing anyone would even think she might lie about the baby being Ben’s—for money, no less!—felt like a stab to the heart.

“According to your letter,” Garrett carried on calmly, “you’re now eight months pregnant—which is approximately the same amount of time that has passed since Ben’s death.” His cold eyes raked her. “I’m sure you can understand Walter’s concerns.”

“No. No, I can’t.”

Lanie pushed herself up from the couch heavily, her hips aching from the baby’s weight. As she stood, another painful sensation, this time sharper and harder, spun out over her belly, and she bit down on her lip to keep from crying out.

Garrett stood as well. “I understand you’re upset—” He stopped short. “Are you all right?” He stared at her, and for the first time he didn’t look quite so sure of himself.

“I’m fine,” Lanie bit out. “I want you to leave. You can go back to Austin and tell Walter Blakemore—oh!” She couldn’t speak as another agonizing sensation rolled over her abdomen.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” He sounded downright panicky now. Lame felt the hysterical urge to laugh, but she was in too much pain.

“I don’t know.” She sank back down to the couch, shaky, wrapping her arms over her belly as the pain ebbed again. “I think—I think I might be in labor.”

Chapter Two

“What did you say?” Garrett wanted Lanie to tell him he’d heard wrong.

She didn’t.

“I think I might be in labor,” she said again. Her voice shook and her pupils grew enormous.

Apprehension fingered up Garrett’s spine. He wished he was back in Austin. He wished he was anywhere but where he was. He wasn’t used to being around pregnant women. Especially pregnant women who said they were in labor. “I thought you said that you were only eight months along,” he insisted.

“I am only eight months along,” Lanie said quickly, her big eyes filled with anxiety. “It’s too early! And Patty’s out of town. I can’t have the baby when Patty’s out of town.” She sounded really scared now.

Garrett blinked. “Who’s Patty?”

“She’s a friend. She’s my birth coach.” She twisted her hands in her lap.

Her obvious distress registered with Garrets. Suddenly whether Lanie carried Ben’s baby or not didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she was a human being who needed help.

And so did he. Emergency childbirth was not in his repertoire. Stocks and bonds, real estate and development, business mergers and takeovers—not babies. Definitely not babies.

“We need to get you to a doctor.” And fast. Lanie looked like a terrified rabbit, and Garrett wasn’t feeling much better himself.

“Yes.” Lanie didn’t move.

“Do you have a bag?”

She stared. “A what?”

“A bag. You know, a bag. To take to the hospital with you,” he clarified impatiently.

They always had bags in the movies, didn’t they? Garrett’s thoughts hurtled along. In fact, he was starting to feel like one of those movie dads-to-be—as in, panicked. Only in the movies, the moms-to-be always seemed to know what they were doing, and in this case Lanie wasn’t helping.

“I haven’t packed one yet.” Lanie stared at him. “You know, I might not even be in labor,” she said abruptly. “I don’t want to go to the hospital. Maybe it’s false labor. I don’t even feel anything now.” She seemed to latch on to the idea, brightening.

False labor. Garrett had no idea what that was, but he wasn’t taking any chances on ending up playing doctor in the parlor. She needed medical attention. He couldn’t be responsible for any harm coming to her unborn child, even if it wasn’t Ben’s.

“You’ve fainted,” he pointed out. “Shouldn’t you at least let your doctor know about that?”

He heard the soft intake of her breath, watched her press her fingers to her lips. “You’re right.” She looked worried now.

Garrett took charge. Picking up the phone on the side table, he turned to her. “What’s your doctor’s number?” He checked his watch. He hoped her physician didn’t leave early on Fridays.

Lanie reeled off the number automatically while Garrett punched it in. When it started ringing, he handed her the phone.

Garrett listened while Lanie asked for the nurse, then described the hardening and bunching in her abdomen and reported the fainting incident. She was silent for several moments, listening, before thanking the nurse and replacing the receiver.

“Well?”

“She told me not to worry, that fainting won’t hurt the baby, but they may want to run a test for anemia. She thinks I should go ahead and come into the office so Dr. Furley can check me. As for the contractions, they might be false labor, but she wants to be sure.”

Lanie felt silly already. So much for the poise with which she normally prided herself. A few isolated contractions, and she’d practically fallen apart. She didn’t even want to think about the fainting episode. That hadn’t been like her, either.

Annoyed, she stood up and retrieved her purse and keys from the kitchen. She nursed the tiny hope that when she came back to the parlor, Garrett would have taken the hint and decided to go back to Austin. She never wanted to see him again.

Unfortunately he was standing by the door waiting for her.

“Ready?” he asked. “My car’s out front.”

Lanie did a double take. “I’ve got my own car,” she pointed out, stubborn now that the pain had gone. “I can drive myself. It’s false labor. I’m sure.” She felt perfectly fine now.

“You weren’t so sure a minute ago,” Garrett responded.

“I changed my mind.” The last person Lanie wanted assistance from was the man who’d virtually accused her of lying about her baby’s paternity. Now that she’d lost the edge off her fear, the anger at the Blakemores for doubting her word about Ben being the father of her baby returned full force.

“Well, I haven’t changed my mind.” Garrett stood his ground. “I’m not about to let you drive over there by yourself.”

Lanie stared back at him, frustrated. She’d liked him better a few minutes ago when he’d looked flustered. Unfortunately he seemed to have recovered what she suspected was his usual arrogance.

“Your opinion doesn’t matter,” she informed him coolly, slinging her purse strap over her shoulder, the keys in her hand jingling at the motion. “You were just leaving, as I recall. I can get five minutes across town to Dr. Furley’s office on my own, thank you very much. I feel okay now. Really.” She was starting to wonder if she’d imagined the severity of the contractions. She was stressed, that was all.

“I never said I was leaving. We still have business to settle—”

“No, we don’t,” Lanie said firmly, certain of at least that one thing. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’m not going to Austin with you, and I’m not the slightest bit interested in Walter’s tests. He can accept or not accept the baby, it’s his choice.”

At this point, all she wanted was to have the Blakemores out of her life. She regretted sending the letter in the first place. All she’d wanted was for her baby to have a chance to know his father’s family. But their reaction to her efforts wasn’t only insulting—it was frightening.

What would they want next, once she’d complied with their demands for the tests? Would they demand she move to Austin, where Walter could dominate every aspect of her child’s life?

She couldn’t let Walter do to her baby what he’d done to Ben. She needed to get away from Garrett Blakemore, and think.

Problem was, he wasn’t budging.

“I’m leaving now,” she announced as she breezed past him toward the front door, “so you’ll have to—oh!” Pain—very real pain—gripped her lower abdomen again, pulling her up short.

“Lanie?” She felt Garrett come up behind her, supporting her as she bent forward. She grabbed her swollen middle, not realizing exactly when he slid his arm around her waist, only knowing that by the time the pain passed and her breathing returned to normal, he all but held her up. His arms were strong and secure...and gentle. So gentle. How could this hard man be so gentle?

She extricated herself from his support. He let go, but his eyes held hers. She saw gentleness there, too, then it was gone and his eyes were cold again.

“My car’s out front,” he repeated.

Tears stung at Lanie’s eyes. She’d give anything if she didn’t have to accept this man’s help. She was afraid of giving him any power over her. She was afraid to need him. But she knew she had to think of her baby, put her baby first.

The pain of the last contraction had receded, but there were no two ways about it now. She could really be in labor, and she was scared.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, she moved to the door. “Okay. You can drive me.” She blinked back the tears and met his gaze head-on. “But right after that, you’re leaving.”

The general practitioner’s office, located in a small, one-story professional building, was neat and modern, at least from what Garrett could see of the place. A harried-looking woman stood writing out a check at the receptionist’s counter, several toddlers clinging to her knees. Another patient, a white-haired lady who looked like she could have been in her early eighties, sat flipping through a women’s magazine. She glanced up and smiled as she observed Lanie’s condition.

After the mother and toddlers left, Lanie spoke to the receptionist while Garrett sat down. He noticed how, from the back, Lanie didn’t even look pregnant. The lines of her figure were slim as a teenager’s—long legs, slender hips, fragile-looking shoulders.

When she’d looked at him with pain, her eyes so huge and vulnerable, Garrett had wanted to just wrap her up somehow and promise her everything would be all right. It was a reaction that made no sense. Garrett crossed his arms and stared at Lanie as she came toward him and settled in the empty seat beside him.

“It’ll be just a minute,” she said.

“How are you feeling?” The one thing he was sure she wasn’t faking was the pain. The terror on her face back at the house had been real.

“I’m fine. No more contractions.” She smiled shakily, and Garrets realized two things. One, that she was a lot more relieved to be at the doctor’s office than she’d been letting on.

And two, that she had the smile of an angel. Achingly vulnerable. Completely kissable.

Garrett forgot for a second where they were or that Lanie was eight months pregnant. All he could think was that he wanted to kiss her, right then, right there. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d wanted to kiss a woman this badly. It was insane.

Why did she have this effect on him? Was this the effect she’d had on Ben? Did the woman weave some sort of magic spell?

She picked up a magazine from the table on the other side of her and began perusing the table of contents. Garrett leaned back, blankly studying the painting of a mother and child in a field of brilliant bluebonnets on the wall opposite them.

Bewitchment would certainly explain the irrational behavior that had characterized the last months of Ben’s life. Ben had given up everything—his position in his father’s company, his home, wealth, even his very place in the Blakemore family. All for a pretty little innkeeper he’d rear-ended at a traffic light and married a month later—against his father’s orders.

Walter had cut Ben off in an effort to bring his son to his senses. Unfortunately there hadn’t been time. An aneurysm had claimed Ben’s life within six months of the marriage. He’d died without ever speaking to his father again. Or to Garrett.

It was still hard for Garrett to believe Ben was gone. Ben had been so full of life.

And he’d been young—even naive, perhaps. He could have been easy prey for a con artist

Garrett snapped his gaze to Lanie, sitting quietly beside him. She was no sorceress, he reminded himself fiercely. This was no magic spell she weaved. She was a con artist, plain and simple. The shocked innocence she’d put on when he’d broached the testing of the baby was part of her act. If the baby wasn’t Ben’s, if all she’d ever wanted from the second she’d latched on to Ben was a piece of the Blakemore fortune, she was hardly going to admit it right off the bat. He couldn’t let big eyes and a sweet smile deter him from his purpose.

“Lanie Blakemore?” the nurse called.

Lanie stood, then disappeared through the door into the inner office.

Garrett stared determinedly out the narrow window, watching the occasional car pass outside the doctor’s office. He tried to think about a land development company in New York he’d been considering buying for the Blakemore Corporation. He tried to think about his upcoming trip to Japan to consult on an overseas merger.

But no matter what he did, his mind kept drifting back to Lanie.

What if he was wrong, what if Walter was wrong? What if Lanie was innocent?

And then he had to wonder if she was really a sorceress, after all.

After what seemed like an eternity, he checked his watch, frustrated. Where was she? Was she really in labor? What was going on? He wanted to pace, but the idea sounded too corny, so he stayed put.

“Is this your first?”

Garrett looked up. The elderly lady across the waiting room watched him. Her cheeks were pink and lined, her eyes bright with curiosity.

“Excuse me?”

“You and your wife must be very excited. It looks like that baby will be here soon.” She smiled.

His wife?

Garrett stared at the elderly woman. It took him a full minute to realize she was actually talking about him and Lanie.

How would he feel if Lanie were his wife and she was having his baby? Proud was the first word that popped into Garrett’s mind.

Then he thought about Vanessa. He and Vanessa had discussed having children, once or twice. That was as far as things had gotten.

That was as far as their marriage had gotten before Garrett had figured out that he’d been the biggest chump on planet Earth. Nothing like finding your wife in bed with another man to drive home the fact that trust was for idiots.

He wasn’t going to make that mistake again. Not with anybody. And for sure not with Lanie. She might have eyes like a newborn foal’s, but Garrett wasn’t going to be taken in that easily.

“That’s not my wife,” Garrett said suddenly, sharply. “In fact, I barely know her.” A fact he’d be well advised to remember, he added to himself.

The older woman looked startled.

Garret picked up a newspaper from the table next to him and held it in front of his face, discouraging any further communication. He struggled to concentrate on the black-and-white print. And he wondered why he hadn’t told Walter to send his sixty-year-old, stuffed-shirt personal attorney, Richard Houseman, on this little mission to Deer Creek.

“Now, remember, rest tonight, Lanie. And try not to worry.”

Lanie thanked the nurse as she slipped through the door between the inner and outer offices. Her gaze went straight to Garrett. He folded up the newspaper he held and dropped it on the table, standing as she approached.

“Are you all right?” he asked immediately.

“I’m fine.” Really, she wasn’t. She was worried sick. The examination’s conclusion was uncertain. Her pains had been erratic and had emanated from her lower abdomen rather than her back, leading Dr. Furley to suspect it was merely false labor. However, he had also reminded her that everyone’s experience was different, and she could well be exhibiting very early labor, after all. Only time would tell.

Dr. Fursley had reassured her that the baby was healthy and big enough to be born, and had performed another sonogram to reassure her. Still, Patty wouldn’t be back until Sunday night. Lanie was scared to death of going through labor without her coach.

“You’re sure you’re fine?” Garrett probed. He looked suspicious, as if he didn’t quite believe her.

“Yes, of course.”

She made an appointment with the receptionist for a regular prenatal visit the following week, determined not to tell Garrett any details. She wasn’t going to have this baby before at least Sunday night, that was all there was to it, and she had no intention of sharing the doctor’s warnings with Garrett. The information might up the coercion level for getting her to go back to Austin with him immediately, and as vulnerable as she felt, she didn’t think she was up to the confrontation.

She had to admit she was glad to have him there to drive her home, though. She was definitely feeling a little weak and shaky. And thankfully, he seemed to have accepted her assurances. He was quiet as he escorted her out to the car again.

Starting up the engine, he turned to look at her. “Nothing’s wrong? What about the pain you were having?” Garrett didn’t move the car as he waited for Lanie to answer.

So much for accepting her word for anything.

“I told you, I’m fine,” Lanie repeated, working to make her voice firm. Garrett’s piercing dark gaze, so much like Ben’s—and yet so different, unsettled her. She wasn’t used to having anyone worrying about her.

For just a moment Garrett’s attention and concern felt nice. Kind of warm and fuzzy, with just the right dash of the unknown.

Ben had certainly never worried about her. He’d always been too busy worrying about himself, angry and obsessed by his bitter emotional struggle with his father.

How would Walter Blakemore feel if he knew he was right about at least one thing about her—that his son’s marriage to her had been a mistake?

Reality reared up, ugly and painful. The Blakemores hated her. Garrett wasn’t worried about her. His concern and attention was not for her. He was worried about the possible Blakemore heir.

“It was just false labor, like I thought,” she forced herself to say blithely. “Now, please, I really have to get home. I have guests coming in tonight.”

She remembered suddenly she didn’t even have the room made up. Just thinking of the evening ahead made her bone weary. She’d had a full house the night before—and had intended them to be her last guests for a while. She’d taken care not to allow bookings for the month preceding her due date and for six weeks afterward, the most time she could afford to close the struggling B&B. But she’d been feeling chipper this morning when a couple had called for last-minute reservations.

She regretted the impulse that had made her accept the booking. She wasn’t feeling nearly so chipper now.

Garrett backed the car out of the parking space, but he wasn’t through with his questions.

“How do you know it’s false labor?” he asked as he swung the car into the street, heading in the direction of the B&B.

“The contractions were erratic,” Lanie explained briefly. “And they went away. Also, the pain began in my lower abdomen, rather than my lower back—which is where real contractions usually start.” She looked out the window, as if intensely interested in the scenery passing by, discouraging further conversation. She had no intention of elaborating.

They passed through the town square, complete with a courthouse surrounded on four sides by active businesses that clearly appealed to Hill Country tourism—a hotel, several restaurants and antique and novelty shops. In a few minutes they arrived at the Victorian B&B. Lanie unhooked her seat belt and shoved open the passenger-side door.

“Thank you for taking me to the doctor.”

“No problem.” Garrett removed his keys from the ignition.

“I’m sorry you made this trip out here for nothing,” she said with almost painful civility. “I really don’t think there’s anything else for us to talk about.”

“Lanie—”

“I’m not going back to Austin with you,” she said, cutting Garrett off. “And I don’t even want to discuss those tests.”

“Lanie—”

“Walter can believe whatever he wants to believe. I merely felt it was my duty to inform him about Ben’s child. That’s all. I don’t want anything from him—not his help, and certainly not his money, if that’s what he’s afraid of. Tell him he can relax.”

Salty pinpricks stabbed at Lanie’s eyes. What a time to get hormonal! she cursed inwardly, determined to put the emotion down to her pregnancy rather than to the idea that she might give a hoot about what Ben’s father thought. Or Garrett, for that matter.

“Lanie—”

“Goodbye,” she managed, and got out of the car. She slammed the car door shut, wishing she could make a more graceful departure than that of a lumbering elephant, which was what she felt like at the moment.

She heard Garrett’s car door shut behind her and knew he’d gotten out, too. “Lanie, I’m not leaving. Not tonight, at least.”

Lanie’s shoulders drooped at Garrett’s words. She stopped in the middle of the street and swiveled to face him, wishing desperately that he would disappear. She was far too tired to deal with him.

“Look, I’m not going to press you about the tests. Not tonight.” Garret approached Lanie. She looked tired, and he knew the decision he’d just come to was the right one. Her golden waves shifted in the wind as she stood there, the long tresses swinging softly around her small shoulders. The afternoon sun caressed her bare cheeks, the warm light loving her smooth skin. Again Garrett experienced an oddly protective sensation.

He put it down to the fact that the baby Lanie carried might be Ben’s. This was about the baby, he reminded himself. Not Lanie.

“I heard what the nurse told you,” he went on. “You’re supposed to rest—and you have guests coming. I could stay and help.” He didn’t know what work this would entail, but he couldn’t see leaving her alone right now.

He wasn’t entirely convinced she was telling him everything about her visit with the doctor. Besides, nothing had been settled. He had to find out the truth, for Walter’s sake. For Ben’s sake.

And for his own, he realized abruptly. He had to know if Lanie was an innocent—or a liar. He didn’t even want to think about why that was suddenly so important to him. It simply was.

Lanie blinked. “You—help?”

She looked so shocked he didn’t know whether to laugh or be insulted. He was getting tired of her looking at him like he was Attila the Hun.

Not that he cared whether she liked him or not. Not at all. It was just that as long as she disliked him this intensely, he was going to have a hard time getting her to cooperate.

He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Of course I can help. Why not?”

Chapter Three

Lanie noticed Garrett looked kind of nice when he smiled. Less like a power broker, and more like a human. He even had a dimple, just on the left side, which she hadn’t noticed before. Perhaps because the man didn’t seem to smile all that much.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stay here tonight.” As tempting as his help sounded, she didn’t think having Garrett around, any more than necessary, would be a good idea at all. He hadn’t been in town five minutes before he’d started trying to take charge of her life—demanding tests on the baby, commanding her to go to Austin and live under the Blakemores’ thumbs until the baby’s birth, insisting he drive her to the doctor’s office.

Of course, driving her to the doctor’s had been a good idea, but none of the rest of it was. She didn’t want the Blakemores running her life—or worse, taking control of her baby.

“It’s a great idea,” Garrett persisted. “You need to rest, and I need a place to stay.”

“You could drive back to the city,” Lanie pointed out, pushing back the temptation he offered.

Help sounded awfully good, whether she wanted it to or not. She was just so tired.

She pulled herself together. “It’s not that far to Austin,” she dismissed. She turned her back on him and his help, trudging up the walk.

He came up behind her. “Are you always this stubborn?” he asked.

“Stubborn! Me?” Lanie stopped long enough to cast Garrett an arch look as he reached her side. “You’re the one who can’t take no for an answer.”

She arrived at the front door and scoured her handbag for her housekeys. She found them, then immediately proceeded to drop them on the ground.

Garrett started to retrieve the keys for her, but Lanie knelt, awkwardly, and snatched them before he could.

“Please leave me alone.” Tears stung at the back of her eyes again. Bending wasn’t her best event these days, but she shook off Garrett’s arm as he tried to help her straighten.

She felt as if she were teetering on the edge. Her exhaustion combined with the stress of the afternoon had been too much, and the last thing she wanted to do was break into one of those sudden bouts of hormonal tears that had plagued her throughout her pregnancy—right in front of Garrett.

She fumbled with the key, wiggling it into the hole, struggling with the old lock. Blinking back traitorous tears, she gratefully pushed the door open. A few more seconds and she could shut it in his face.

“Are you crying?”

She tried to ignore him as she moved through the doorway. He stuck his foot in the door and prevented her from closing it.

She didn’t want to look at him, but he reached out and turned her face toward him, the touch strong and gentle at the same time. Lifting her eyes, she met his reluctantly. She dashed a hand at the moisture on her cheeks and lifted her chin a notch.

“You are crying.” He sounded confused. He dropped his hand from her face, but not his stare. “Look, I don’t know if this is pride or stubbornness or just that you don’t like me much.” An odd, almost painful light flickered in his eyes for a second, then disappeared. “But I think you need some help tonight.” His voice was soft. “Will you let me stay?”

Lanie thought about going to the backyard and dragging the sheets off the line, hauling them upstairs and making up the bed, then greeting the guests with the customary refreshments. Her feet, her knees, her hips—every place where the baby’s weight put unaccustomed pressure—ached like she carried a two-ton truck instead of a tiny human being.

She wanted nothing more than to drop into bed and let someone help her. But it wasn’t safe for Garrett Blakemore to be that someone. She knew that.

But she said, “All right,” anyway.

Garrett knocked lightly on the closed door to Lanie’s bedroom. “Lanie?”

“Come in,” she called.

He poked his head around the doorjamb in time to see her sitting up in bed, a fat pillow propped behind her back. She was still dressed, her long legs stretched out on a colorful quilt decorated in a pattern of interlocking rings. A white lace curtain blew softly at the open window, bringing the warm afternoon inside.

Despite the obvious reluctance with which she’d agreed to let him help her out for the evening, she’d acquiesced with surprising ease when he’d insisted she go straight upstairs to rest. He knew this was more likely an indication of the true state of her exhaustion than any sign of surrender on her part.

She’d given him brief instructions about making up two rooms with sheets from the line outside, and had explained where to find the refreshments she had prepared She’d asked him to call her when the guests arrived so she could come down to greet them. But before he tended to any of the other preparations, he’d decided to fix her something to eat.

“I brought you a sandwich and a glass of milk,” Garret said. He came around the side of the antique spool bed and placed a tray on the end table near her. Her wary gaze never left him. “And some cookies.” He held out the glass of milk.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Surprise widened her eyes as she took in the tray.

“Of course I should have,” Garrett said. Her aversion to his assistance was really starting to annoy him.

He kept holding out the glass, and she finally took it, her slender fingers lightly brushing his in the exchange. A small electrical charge zinged up Garrett’s arm, filtering through his irritation.

He backed up slightly in reaction, putting a little distance between himself and Lanie. It was just the oddness of being in her bedroom, he told himself. The situation was overly intimate, considering they’d only known each other a few hours.

“I don’t want you waiting on me,” Lanie protested. She set the glass down on the tray.

Garrett shrugged. “It’s just a little something to eat. It’s not a big deal. You need to keep up your strength.”

She looked wan, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like how it made him feel. He didn’t like how he was worrying about this woman he’d only just met and had no reason to trust or even like.

Of course, he reminded himself, he did have one good reason for caring. The sooner she rested up, the sooner he could tackle the business at hand—getting her to agree to come back to Austin with him. He worked to focus on the reason he was in Deer Creek, and to forget how pale and defenseless Lame looked, propped in bed, surrounded by all this soft lace and patchwork simplicity.

The scene was a false picture, making her seem more maternal than small-town schemer. The whole setup was what was throwing him off balance, he decided. The sooner he got out of her bedroom, the better.

He strode to the door, determined to get the sheets and make up the guest rooms. And put as much distance as he possibly could between himself and Lanie’s sweet, vulnerable eyes.

“Garrett?”

He stopped in the doorway and turned to look at her. She chewed her lip, hesitating, the glow from the sunset lighting her fine features. Her hands moved over the rounding of her belly in a seemingly unconscious gesture.

Garrett’s gaze followed the movement of her hands, lured by the slow caressing motion that spoke of tender care for her unborn child. He wondered if the baby was moving, what it would feel like to place his hand there and feel the tiny life inside her kick....

He jerked his attention back to her face. “What?” he prompted curtly. He really needed to get out of her bedroom.

“I—uh...” She glanced at the tray, then back at him. She bit her lip again. “Thank you,” she said finally, as if the words came with great difficulty. “I hope I didn’t sound rude. I didn’t mean to.”

She sounded so sincere. Her hand moved over her stomach again. The light from the window settled around her like a halo.

Garrett swallowed tightly. “No problem,” he answered, and made good his escape.

Lanie watched Garrett through her open window as he crossed the backyard, heading for the clothesline. The curtains fluttered about as the light breeze infused a warm, comfortable breath of fresh air into the room. She took a big gulp of it. She needed it. She needed something, anyway—something to stop her from making a complete and total fool of herself.

She felt touched by Garrett’s thoughtfulness in bringing her supper. He’d even brought her cookies. It was such a simple yet considerate gesture. The sort of gesture she wouldn’t have expected from the hard, cold businessman who’d all but accused her of trying to defraud his uncle.

Lanie tensed at the thought. The whole thing was so insulting. Why was Garrett really so intent on helping her this evening? Out of the goodness of his heart?

Fat chance of that! She blew out a frustrated breath. His help—and his suppers—were part of his plan to manipulate her into going back to Austin with him.

She should have thrown the supper tray right back in his face.

She eyed the meal in front of her. She was hungry, and she didn’t see anything to be gained by not eating. After all, she’d need her strength if she was going to resist his power plays.

And there was no point wasting perfectly good cookies, was there?

Picking up the sandwich first, she took a bite and narrowed her gaze on her adversary. He’d rolled his sleeves up and begun tearing sheets down.

The muscles of his arms flexed in the sun as he reached upward. Lanie stared for long seconds before swallowing the bite of sandwich, then forcibly ripped her gaze from the sight in her yard. She took a swig of cold milk. Really, what was wrong with her? She was practically ogling the man.

She couldn’t believe now she’d ever mistaken him for Ben. He was nothing like Ben. It was more than the subtle physical differences. There was something so serious, so earnest about Garrett.

Ben had been funny and exciting—in the beginning. They’d had a whirlwind courtship. He’d dared her out of her quiet life. Her quiet rut, as her grandmother who’d raised her used to say. She’d known Ben was marrying her over his wealthy father’s objections, but he was determined and had insisted his father would come around. He said he wanted to get married and help her rebuild the bed-and-breakfast business she’d recently inherited after her grandmother’s death.

Even though her grandmother was gone, Lanie could still hear her nagging. Life is short, live while you’re young, let your heart lead you.

And in a moment of uncharacteristic spontaneity, Lanie had let her heart lead her. She’d married Ben.

The disillusionment had come quickly. Walter Blakemore couldn’t accept his son’s abrupt marriage, or his decision to leave the family business. He’d underscored his unbending resolve by cutting Ben off financially. But that hadn’t been the worst of it. It was only after they’d married that Lanie finally understood what Ben’s power struggle with his father was all about. He wanted his father’s love—and no matter how much love she gave him, it could never be enough, never make up for what his father had withheld from him his entire life.

Ben had grown distant and morose, alternating between long silences and angry outbursts. And Lanie knew she’d made a mistake—that they had both made a mistake. But she wasn’t a quitter and she’d tried to make their marriage work despite the coldness with which he’d pushed her away.

By the time he died, she wasn’t sure if Ben had ever loved her or if she had merely been a means to break away from his father. But whatever the fate of their marriage might have been if he’d lived, she still mourned him—that his life had been cut too short, that her baby would never know its father.

She had little family of her own left—only a brother on military duty overseas. But Ben had family, and so did her baby.

Her gaze moved out the window again. The yard was empty now, the clothesline bare. Garrett was gone, which was just as well. She didn’t need to be tempted by his strong arms, to fantasize what it would feel like to have those arms around her, to feel that exciting ripple of warmth inside her when he looked at her. Not when she felt so very lonely.

Thoughts of Garrett were dangerous. Garrett was dangerous. He was the sort of man who would have everything he wanted, wouldn’t settle for less.

And he wanted something from her.

This time, Lanie couldn’t hide from the little ripple that shuddered inside her. This time it was fear.

“Your home is lovely.”

Garrett opened his mouth to explain to the Berringers, Lanie’s guests for the night, that the Sweet Dreams Bed and Breakfast wasn’t his home, but a soft voice from behind stopped him.

“Thank you.”

He turned. Lanie, dressed now in a flowing yellow undress that lit up her eyes and hair, seemed to float into the parlor. She smiled at the Berringers, looking rested and relaxed.

Weren’t pregnant women supposed to be awkward? Garret thought. There was nothing ungainly about Lanie.

She moved like a feather. A delicate, beautiful feather. Garrett found her gracefulness annoying.

But then, he found her mere presence annoying, he decided. He hadn’t meant to call her down when her guests arrived—despite her instructions. He’d intended to avoid her entirely for the rest of the evening. But here she was, anyway.

“I hope you had a nice trip,” Lanie was saying. She still hadn’t looked at him.

He, on the other hand, was having a hard time taking his eyes off her.

“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Berringer replied. She was a heavyset woman and the sofa made a groaning noise when she sat down on it. “But I’m so glad to be here.”

She reached for one of the canapés artfully arranged on a tray on the coffee table. Garrett had placed the tray of appetizers out, just as Lanie had instructed.

Mr. Berringer settled into an armchair.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Lanie indicated a bottle of wine chilling in a bucket near the canapés. Another tray held several glasses.

The Berringers accepted, and Lanie sat down, leaning forward to pour the wine into the glasses. Garrett watched her long hair fall over her bare shoulders in shimmery, touchable waves. Unbidden came the urge to reach out, to wrap a finger around one of those locks, to discover just how soft and touchable they really were....

Garrett’s chest tightened, and he realized he’d almost forgotten to breathe. This whole domestic setup was doing a number on his brain, he told himself. Either that, or she was, indeed, a sorceress.

“I’ll take these things upstairs,” he announced abruptly.

He grabbed the bags and bounded up the creaking, narrow stairs. When he came back down, he found Mrs. Berringer stuffing a canapé into her mouth and Lanie in the middle of what sounded like a history of the house.

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