You’re invited to…

Return to Tyler

Where scandals and secrets are unleashed in a small town and love is found around every corner…

Don’t miss any of these wonderful love stories!

Secret Baby Spencer

Jule McBride

Patchwork Family

Judy Christenberry

Prescription for Seduction

Darlene Scalera

Bride of Dreams

Linda Randall Wisdom

Dear Reader,

November is an exciting month here at Harlequin American Romance. You’ll notice we have a brand-new look—but, of course, you can still count on Harlequin American Romance to bring you four terrific love stories sure to warm your heart.

Back by popular demand, Harlequin American Romance revisits the beloved town of Tyler, Wisconsin, in the RETURN TO TYLER series. Scandals, secrets and romances abound in this small town with fabulous stories written by some of your favorite authors. The always wonderful Jule McBride inaugurates this special four-book series with Secret Baby Spencer.

Bestselling author Muriel Jensen reprises her heartwarming WHO’S THE DADDY? series with Father Fever. Next, a former wallflower finally gets the attention of her high school crush when he returns to town and her friends give her a makeover and some special advice in Catching His Eye, the premiere of Jo Leigh’s THE GIRLFRIENDS’ GUIDE TO…continuing series. Finally, Harlequin American Romance’s theme promotion, HAPPILY WEDDED AFTER, which focuses on marriages of convenience, continues with Pamela Bauer’s The Marriage Portrait.

Enjoy them all—and don’t forget to come back again next month when another installment in the RETURN TO TYLER series from Judy Christenberry is waiting for you.

Wishing you happy reading,

Melissa Jeglinski

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin American Romance

Secret Baby Spencer

Jule McBride

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

In 1993 Jule McBride’s dream came true with the publication of her debut novel, Wild Card Wedding. It received the Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Award for Best First Series Romance. Ever since, the author has continued to pen stories that have met with strong reviews and made repeated appearances on romance bestseller lists.

Books by Jule McBride
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

500—WILD CARD WEDDING

519—BABY TRAP

546—THE WRONG WIFE?

562—THE BABY & THE BODYGUARD

577—BRIDE OF THE BADLANDS

599—THE BABY MAKER

617—THE BOUNTY HUNTER’S BABY

636—BABY ROMEO: P.I.

658—COLE IN MY STOCKING

693—MISSION: MOTHERHOOD*

699—VERDICT: PARENTHOOD*

725—DIAGNOSIS: DADDY*

733—AKA: MARRIAGE*

753—SMOOCHIN’ SANTA**

757—SANTA SLEPT OVER**

849—SECRET BABY SPENCER

HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

418—WED TO A STRANGER?

519—THE STRONG SILENT TYPE

Who’s Who in Tyler

Seth Spencer—There’s a wealth of passion burning beneath this banker’s three-piece suit!

Jenna Robinson—She’s got a bridal gown in tow—and a baby on the way….

Quinn and Brady Spencer—Seth’s sexy brothers. Their motto is: “No Spencer man ever commits!”

Elias Spencer—His wife ran away with his heart….

Martha Bauer, Bea Ferguson, Emma Finklebaum, Merry Linton, Tillie Phelps—The famous Quilting Circle—their quilts are the very fabric of Tyler.

Caroline Benning— the waitress is new to town, and not too sure if she’ll stay….

Johnny and Anna Kelsey—Their boardinghouse is Home Sweet Home—for them and their guests.

Rev. Sarah Baron—Everyone in town is part of her flock.

Tillie Olsen—At her beauty salon, customers get the latest hairstyles—and the hottest gossip!

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

Epilogue

Chapter One

A town away, in Belton’s substation, police captain Brick Bauer was the first to frown, rise from his desk and walk to the window. “Probably kids,” he decided, glaring at the winking, cat-eyed taillights of a suspicious-looking dented gold Cadillac heading toward Tyler, Wisconsin. “No adult around here drives a car that sounds like…like…” Brick shook his head, his mind unable to seize upon any suitable phrase.

“Like the end of the world,” Reverend Sarah Baron said decisively a few minutes later, looking up from her desk in the Tyler Fellowship Sanctuary. Vaguely, Sarah wondered if the car would wind up stopping in town and if the passenger was feeling friendless and lonely or might someday become a member of her parish, then she said, “Maybe Michael can do something about that awful-sounding muffler.” Yes, if the driver couldn’t afford a mechanic, surely Sarah’s husband would offer to look at the car free of charge, though by the sound of it, even an act of God wouldn’t fix it. “Oh ye of little faith,” Sarah sighed after a few moments, still chiding herself as, some distance away, Martha Bauer gaped through the window of a stately brick Victorian known as Worthington House, then at the ladies seated around a quilting frame.

“Look at that woman’s hair!” exclaimed Martha with a gasp.

Pausing, needles raised in midair, the other women, mostly elderly, stared curiously through the window into the twilight, scrutinizing the Cadillac sedan idling at the new stop sign on the corner. The driver had short, spiky dark brown hair, streaked with red. “Her hairstyle’s certainly inventive,” Lydia Perry remarked, knowing nothing less could have drawn her mind from the date she’d shared last night with Elias Spencer.

“And is that a wedding dress bunched in the passenger seat?” asked Martha, squinting.

“Sure looks like it,” said Bea Ferguson, determined to speak before anyone initiated another argument about whether or not the new stop sign was really necessary. “And look. She’s got a baby in the back. I see a car seat.”

“A baby?” Lydia leaned forward, wondering where the woman was headed and whether there was a man in the picture. “Do you all think that poor woman’s running from some kind of trouble?”

“Who knows?” sighed Bea. “But if she stops in town for the night, she’ll probably head for the Kelsey Boarding House or the Timberlake Lodge, which means we’ll hear the gossip if there is any.”

“Or she’ll go to Granny Rose’s,” Martha added, referring to Tyler’s bed-and-breakfast. “It’s just a good thing she didn’t park in front of Worthington House. That car looks like something bequeathed by Elvis, don’t you think?” she continued as she bent her head over the quilting frame and surveyed the fabric with sharp eyes that belied her eighty-seven years. “I’d rather walk a mile in orthopedic shoes than be caught dead in a car as awful as that.”

“Martha, not everybody can afford a late-model car,” Kaitlin Rodier reminded gently. The newest group member glanced up from the patchwork quilt. “Besides,” she chided, “with hair like that, she’s got to be from a city, and let’s face it, Tyler can always use some new blood, even if she’s just passing through.”

“City people,” grunted Tillie Phelps grumpily, cocking her head and taking in the quilt’s royal blue border. “I figure we’ve got enough excitement with Quinn Spencer stopping by to chat with us all the time, and with that woman, Caroline Benning, coming to town.”

Everyone fell silent, considering the new waitress at Marge’s Diner. The young woman’s stay at the Kelsey Boarding House had been uneventful, but just last week she’d been found tangled in the rose bushes outside Elias Spencer’s house. She’d sworn she was chasing a stray cat she wanted to take to a vet, but no cat was ever found and now most people figured she’d been spying on the Spencers.

“Well,” Bea finally said as she continued stitching one of the group’s sought-after quilts that were so popular around Tyler, “in addition to Caroline Benning’s being here, all the Spencer boys have come home. Caroline was probably trying to peek at Quinn through the window of Elias’s place, don’t you think?”

“Probably,” Martha agreed. “Quinn is awfully cute.”

“All those Spencer boys are good looking,” Emma Finklebaum mused, nodding as the Cadillac lurched past the stop sign, into the intersection. “Hey, what if that woman knows the Spencers? She does look like she’s from a city, and the Spencers came from New York, remember?”

“Who could forget?” murmured Martha, and for a moment the quilting circle fell respectfully silent again since no one intended to discuss the scandal that had followed the Spencer family to Tyler twenty-three years ago.

“Poor boys,” Lydia finally said, thinking of how her new beau, Elias, had brought his New York society family here to start a life years ago—only to have his wife run off with her New York lover. Lydia and Elias had only been on a few dates, but Lydia liked him and was beginning to fear he wouldn’t learn to love again, no more than his sons probably would.

“Tragic, what Violet Spencer’s leaving Tyler did to those boys,” Emma continued in a hushed, sympathetic tone. “Seth was the oldest, but he was only fourteen at the time. Of course they’re not boys anymore, they’re full-grown men, but you can bet none of them will ever trust a woman.”

“Much less marry one,” Martha agreed with a sad sigh as the gold Cadillac vanished from sight, pulling into Tyler proper and around the town square, prompting a worried Cooper Night Hawk to stare from inside the police station, instinctively double-checking for his gun and badge.

“Ten to one, there’s no current inspection on a vehicle that sounds as bad as that,” Cooper muttered in disgust. At least the driver was a woman, which meant she wasn’t the armed male felon Cooper had just heard about on the dispatch radio. Cooper continued staring through the window, running a hand through his long dark hair, his dark eyes narrowing. Even without seeing the license plate, he now recognized the Cadillac as registered to the rent-a-wreck business at the Madison airport. Whoever the stranger was, she’d flown into Wisconsin.

Sighing, Cooper watched the car continue around the town square. It was dark outside, the gunmetal gray, late October sky both windy and carrying the first whipping sting of winter. As the car passed under a streetlamp, the interior was illuminated and Cooper’s hawklike eyes made out the driver’s delicate features. Striking, he decided. She had a birdlike face with a thin, straight nose and sculpted cheekbones; the artfully cut, jagged ends of her jaw-length hair spiked against a creamy jaw, then feathered down, sweeping her neck. She was a volcano, he decided. Secretly seething and possibly volatile, at least according to his sixth sense. “But what’s a woman who looks like that doing here?” Tyler was hardly a hub. And she wasn’t alone, either. She had a baby in the back seat.

Whatever the case, she and the baby weren’t posing any threat to Tyler’s peace, so the lawman finally turned toward his desk, just as Nora Gates Forrester glanced through the windows of her department store. She’d been rearranging a Halloween display, and as she gawked at the out-of-place gold Cadillac, her well-manicured hand continued fluffing the green wig atop a mannequin dressed as a witch. “I bet that’s a friend of those Spencer boys,” Nora murmured on a premonition as the car rounded the tree-filled square, passing the town hall, dry cleaners and drug store. “Or maybe not,” Nora amended, frowning when the sedan didn’t stop at the corner, or in front of the Spencer-owned bank, the Tyler Savings & Loan, but instead continued toward The Hair Affair, where Marge Phelps, owner of Tyler’s favorite eatery, Marge’s Diner, popped her head out from under a hair dryer. “Now there’s a hairstyle,” she declared, peering through the window at the passing car. “Get a gander, everybody.”

“Your daughter’s acting on Broadway in New York,” chided Sandy Stirling who’d come in for a trim after leaving her job at the town’s most successful homegrown business, Yes! Yogurt. “And you go to New York all the time, Marge. You, of all people, should be used to seeing weird hair.”

“Maybe, but there’s a wedding dress and a baby in the back seat of that car,” countered Marge.

“A baby? Oh, good! For a minute, I was worried,” confessed Molly Blake who, despite the expense, had run in to get her nails done. “I thought it might be that artist…you know, that friend of Seth Spencer’s who agreed to come to town to design the logo, invitations and menus for the bed-and-breakfast I want to open. She said she wouldn’t be here until tomorrow, so I’m not ready to meet her, but if that woman’s got a baby…”

“Then it can’t be her,” finished Tisha, who owned The Hair Affair. “That artist—uh, Jenna Robinson’s her name, right?—she didn’t say she had a baby, did she, Molly?”

Molly swallowed hard. “No, but now that I think about it, I guess she might. How would I know?” Molly still couldn’t decide what to make of the call she’d received from Jenna, who’d introduced herself as an old friend of Seth Spencer’s. Molly had figured she was in luck. If a good friend of the local bankers was designing the menus for the bed-and-breakfast Molly wanted to open, he’d be more likely to give Molly a loan, wouldn’t he? Still, why would an artist call Molly all the way from New York, offer to pay her own traveling expenses to Wisconsin, then agree to do the artwork so cheaply? Even more suspiciously, Jenna had made Molly swear not to tell Seth Spencer she was coming to town, saying she wanted to surprise him.

Dear Lord…what if the woman in the Cadillac is Jenna Robinson? What if she’s come to Tyler with a baby of Seth Spencer’s…a baby Seth doesn’t even know exists?

There goes my loan.

Molly squelched the thought. Yes, she’d definitely started reading too much romance fiction in the lonely times after her husband died. In real life, women didn’t putter into small, uneventful towns like Tyler, driving old gold Cadillacs and wielding babies they’d kept secret from banker daddies. Frowning, Molly stared down at her drying, passion-pink nails, trying to assure herself that tomorrow’s interview with Seth Spencer would go well. Surely, her uneasiness about Jenna’s arrival was unfounded. As soon as possible, maybe even tomorrow, Jenna and Seth would be jointly surveying Molly’s Victorian home. On the phone, Jenna had been responsive to Molly’s ideas for transforming the place into a romantic hideaway; now Molly was hoping Jenna’s artistic excitement would help convince Seth to fork over the start-up capital.

No, Molly decided with finality, the wild-looking woman in the Cadillac with the wedding dress and baby couldn’t be Jenna Robinson. Fate simply wasn’t that unkind. Nevertheless, Molly was still exhaling a worried sigh as the car halted, idling outside Eden Frazier’s flower shop, The Garden of Eden. Inside, Eden brushed back her brown hair, lifted a watering can and stepped around a bucket of eucalyptus. As she inhaled the deep, sweet scent of some nearby roses, her violet eyes squinted, taking in the ancient gold tank. A whimsical smile stretched her lips when she saw the wild-looking woman inside the car who was staring toward the Savings & Loan. “Where did she come from?” Eden whispered.

“New York City,” muttered the only resident of Tyler who could accurately answer that question. Seth Spencer watched the car and driver from his office in the bank. “But what for?”

Me.

“Seth,” he growled, “that’s not Jenna.”

But ever since he’d left New York, Seth had been glimpsing Jenna everywhere: in the Alberta Ingalls Memorial Library, in Amanda Baron Trask’s law offices, outside Marge’s Diner. The woman never really was Jenna, of course. Never would be, either. Jenna’s feelings—or lack of them—were clear when Seth calmly left her Soho loft six weeks ago.

No, the woman in the gold Cadillac couldn’t be Jenna.

Seth glanced past Molly Blake’s loan proposal and today’s copy of the Tyler Citizen, both of which were on his desk, then around the bank’s homey, old-fashioned interior, taking in the red-carpeted floors leading to the teller area. Maybe he should at least head into the lobby and check out the car…

Seth, it’s not her!

Fighting the urge to reach behind him and grab the gray wool jacket to his suit, he swallowed hard, denying his emotions. He shifted his oxford-clad feet, then started to take an unlit cigar out of his mouth and tighten the silver Hermés tie around the collar of his white-pressed shirt. But he didn’t move. Even if it is her, which it’s not, let her come to me.

That was more his style. He’d never let a woman, especially Jenna, see him come running. The house he’d foolishly bought near his father’s Victorian on Maple Street flashed through his mind, and he damned Jenna again, now for how unhappy he’d felt living there these past six weeks. One too many times, he’d found himself standing in the foyer, staring down the block, taking in the wraparound porch and gingerbread trim of his father’s house, a place that had lost its womanly touch after Seth’s mother, Violet, ran off with a man named Ray Bennedict when Seth was fourteen.

Too late Seth had realized that the last thing he needed was to own a four-bedroom house on the same block where he’d grown up. “Too much history,” he muttered now. The sparse steel furniture he’d brought from Manhattan barely filled the living room, and when Seth crossed the hardwood floors, his echoing footsteps sounded empty and hollow, evoking exactly what he’d felt when his mother vanished from Tyler.

He blew out an angry sigh. He should have known Jenna wouldn’t stick around, no more than his mother had. Even worse, before his return to Tyler, he hadn’t thought about his mother for years. In New York, he’d always flown high on external stimulus, his blood rushing with the sound of car horns or ticker tape announcing the latest hot deal on Wall Street. But six weeks ago Seth had landed in Tyler again, harboring still-raw feelings he hadn’t noticed for years. Which was why he needed to quit imagining Jenna was in town. Just like his mother, Jenna had proven she didn’t give a damn.

“Get over it,” he muttered, reaching for the phone. He’d been expecting one of his brothers, Quinn or Brady, to call before quitting time to see if he wanted to get supper at Marge’s Diner, but now Seth thought maybe he should take the initiative for once and call them. But no, somewhere along the line, he’d learned to watch and wait, to gauge how much others extended themselves while holding his own cards close to the vest. Whether the lesson had come from his mother’s abandonment or from working in New York’s cutthroat financial industry, Seth wasn’t sure. Either way, he wound up not picking up the phone.

The whole time, his liquid brown eyes stayed riveted on the Cadillac idling in front of Eden’s flower shop. Outwardly, he didn’t move a muscle; inwardly, he was going crazy. From here, the woman did look like Jenna. For a second, he pretended it was, and that she was impressed by the one-story brick Savings & Loan that was now his. Seth Spencer, said the brass nameplate on his office door. President.

Not that Jenna would care. Against his will, Seth visualized her Soho loft, the tasseled pillows, stacked books, and rock-hard, thigh-high queen-size bed that was perfect for lovemaking. The image was razor-sharp since Seth had showered, shaved and slept there with enough regularity over the past year and a half that the place felt like home.

Jenna had been naked in bed when he told her he was leaving a job at Goldman Sachs to return to Tyler as president of the family’s S&L, since his father, Elias, was retiring.

“Wonderful,” was all Jenna had said.

“Wonderful,” he muttered now. She hadn’t voiced concern for the future of their relationship, nor asked if he wanted to keep in touch. In fact, she hadn’t even quit painting her toenails. Even now he could see her: wearing a crimson nightie, sitting on the mussed covers of the bed, tilting a bottle of mint-green polish in one hand and brushing the nail of her baby toe with the other. She hadn’t been the least perturbed that he was leaving. Why couldn’t he just accept it?

He blew out another sigh, this one more murderous than the last. And why was that ugly gold junker still idling? Was it really Jenna? Was she waiting for him to notice her? To come out and strike up a conversation?

“If that’s what you’re thinking, sweetheart, keep dreaming,” Seth whispered around the unlit cigar, unaware his posture was exactly as it had been twenty-three years ago, on Thanksgiving Day, when he’d sat ponderously at his father’s kitchen table after hearing that his mother had disappeared. Later that day, he’d been told she’d run off with Ray Bennedict. Before nightfall, Seth had decided his mother was never coming back, and he’d promised himself he wouldn’t hope for a phone call or a knock at the door. He wouldn’t torture himself with the usual, ridiculous adolescent fantasies…wouldn’t imagine his mother coming to the schoolyard fence, her haunted eyes searching for him and his brothers, Quinn and Brady….

No, once she left, it was best never to expect a woman to return.

Seth leaned forward, anyway, wishing the woman in the Cadillac didn’t look so much like Jenna. He didn’t trust his perceptions, though, no more than he could admit how her lovemaking had affected him. Model-tall and fire-hot, Jenna had burned in his arms like a flaming torch. She possessed wild, short, red-streaked hair and a trendy wardrobe of sequined sweaters, feathered earrings and capes that electrified Seth’s every last male nerve. Where he strictly wore muted browns and grays, Jenna’s wardrobe exploded in magenta and turquoise, violet and crimson. All brightly colored motion, she’d been like a bird, flitting around him while Seth stayed still as a statue.

Somehow they’d fit, though.

“Our bodies sure did,” he growled, gritting his teeth against the sudden, unwanted ache of his groin. Ever since he’d happened into the Soho gallery where she worked, he and Jenna had dated. Not seriously, they’d assured each other, even though they’d wound up in bed on the first date. The next evening, on the second, they’d ordered takeout and made love while devouring Chinese food, and on the third date they’d quit bothering with the food.

But it was only sex, they’d said. Unusual chemical attraction. Nothing more.

They’d even gone months between dates as if to prove their continued emotional sovereignty. But now, as Seth stared at the car idling in the road, he admitted the truth. He still wanted her. He missed her like the devil.

Maybe he should have initiated a talk about their relationship before he left New York, but Jenna knew that wasn’t his style, didn’t she? Sighing, he tried to ignore the panic in his gut. He shouldn’t have minded the feeling. He was used to money deals and playing daily roulette with the stock market, and now that he had his own bank, the stakes were even higher. But when he made banking decisions, rows of neat, orderly figures backed him up. The panic he felt now was different. This panic was female-related, and Seth knew next to nothing about females.

Banking, he understood. Slowly and steadily, he’d worked for years, garnering the experience needed to run the S&L, a business in which his brothers Quinn and Brady had no personal interest. Seth had followed their father’s every step, going from Columbia to Wharton, then to Goldman Sachs—all so that now, at the age of thirty-seven, he could run this bank.

He’d never imagined that only six weeks after taking the job he’d be fighting the urge to turn his back on everything he’d ever worked for, just so he could return to New York and Jenna. Jenna, who doesn’t even want you.

The Cadillac started moving again.

His heart missed a beat.

But no, it really couldn’t be Jenna. She was from a Podunk North Carolina town she’d professed to hate, and once she’d left for the big city, she’d never looked back. Jenna would never venture into a place that lacked a cappuccino bar, a foreign film theater or inch-thick tabloids dripping with juicy celebrity gossip. Not that Tyler lacked gossip, Seth thought with remembered anger, his broad, powerful back stiffening to ward off buried emotions left over from adolescence. After his mother ran off with Ray, Seth had endured more than his share of pitying glances and hushed whispers. It hurt having the whole town know the Spencers hadn’t been man enough to hang on to the woman they loved.

It was why, if Seth was honest, he’d rather be anywhere in the world than Tyler, Wisconsin, this time of year. October was nearly gone, and Canadian air—cold, crisp and thin—was sweeping south into the region and chilling him to the bone.

Twenty years, he thought. Hard to believe, but it had been twenty years since he’d lived in Tyler. A lifetime. He’d been sure that when he came back home, the old feelings of loss and longing would be gone, but this was cold, hard, wintry country, with glassy lakes and too much empty space, the kind of country that always left a man with too much time on his hands to think about his past.

One too many nights Seth had needed Jenna to keep him warm. Now he cursed the stranger in the car for making him remember how her soft, smooth skin had burned under his greedy hands, and how easily her damp, wanting mouth had slackened for his, memories that made his groin tighten.

Memories, Seth thought, were damn powerful things.

Outside, the car swerved. Silently, he watched the headlights sweeping the pavement as the car rounded a corner, then disappeared. Only then did he rise. He kept staring into the dark, his eyes inadvertently searching, his heart aching with familiar loss and the firmly held conviction that once a woman was gone from a man’s life, she never returned.

“WHERE’S THE Kelsey Boarding House?” Jenna Robinson groaned, twisting the sparkling engagement ring on her finger and glancing into the rearview mirror, to where Gretchen was strapped in a car seat. “Hey there, sweetie,” she added. “You holding up okay?”

The two-year-old yawned.

Jenna chuckled. Gretchen looked adorable, dressed in black corduroy overalls and a pint-size black leather jacket. “We’re almost there,” Jenna assured, freeing a hand and flattening Molly Blake’s directions against the cracked vinyl of the ample dashboard. Staring through the windshield, Jenna tried to ignore her hammering heart. “What was I thinking?” she murmured, knowing she shouldn’t have stopped outside the S&L. Was Seth working? Or had he left the office for the day?

“Jenna, you’re pathetic.” She had only one piece of business to take care of in Tyler, Wisconsin—informing Seth she was getting married next week. And who could blame her for wanting to deliver the news as soon as possible? After she’d endured a painful year and a half of Seth’s noncommittal behavior, somebody else had fallen desperately in love with her and wanted to help her raise the baby she was carrying. Just thinking of the life growing inside her made her eyes soften.

Seth’s baby.

Pushing aside the thought, she decided that she had to get some rest and change clothes before she told him the news. She was covered with road grime. Besides, one look around the Madison airport had made perfectly clear that Jenna was all wrong for Wisconsin, not that her fishnet stockings, feathered sweater and miniskirt were that strange. Nor did she think she’d packed anything much more conservative. Nevertheless, she was tired of people staring at her as if she were wearing a Halloween costume. “This place could sure use some action,” she muttered, glancing around the dark, tree-lined street. With Halloween upcoming, maybe she’d dress as a bank robber and target the Spencer family’s bank.

Meantime, every horse, wire fence and mile on the odometer of the Cadillac reminded her of why she’d fled Bear Creek, North Carolina, for the Fashion Institute of New York the second she turned eighteen. Her hands tightened on the wheel as she thought of North Carolina and her parents, not that she exactly wanted to dwell on Nancy and Ralph, who were so close they’d scarcely ever seemed to notice their daughter existed. It was probably why Jenna had so foolishly pursued Seth, willing to take the crumbs he called affection.

“Face it, Jenna, it’s your cross to bear.” She glanced at the faded paperback cover of Women Who Love Too Much, which was beside her on the seat. She’d brought it to reread on the plane. When it came to attracting unavailable men, she was like the magnet inside an MRI.

Or she had been.

But now she was loved. Cherished. Cared for in the exact way she deserved. Her throat tightening, she thought of the Soho art gallery owned by her friend, Sue Ellis, who was Gretchen’s mom, and then she thought of the gallery’s co-owner, Dom Milano.

Even now, she could barely believe Dom had proposed. Buoyed up by the passion he’d expressed, Jenna felt her heart ache. She’d met the two gallery owners only a week after moving to New York, and over the past sixteen years, they’d become her substitute family. It was why Jenna had agreed, at the eleventh hour, to watch Gretchen while Sue went on an impromptu art buying trip to Paris.

Fortunately, Gretchen had handled the airplane like a pro. Jenna had felt antsy about bringing the baby to Tyler, but Dom had his hands full with running the gallery right now, and he insisted Jenna talk to Seth before she responded to the marriage proposal.

Jenna simply couldn’t wait. She was going to marry Dom as soon as she returned to New York. He was such a sweetheart. He’d said he wouldn’t start their physical relationship—not so much as a kiss, he’d vowed—until she went to Tyler, until he knew she would definitely be his. She smiled weakly. Who would have known Dom could be so romantic? In all the years of their friendship, she never would have guessed.

And he was so sexy. Tall and slender, he was Italian-born and raised on Mott Street in Little Italy. He had straight black hair, devastating dark eyes, and after sixteen years of knowing him, Jenna knew she’d never find a better man. He was so accommodating, too, guessing Jenna’s needs before she even knew she had them. What she’d shared with Seth, she assured herself, was nothing more than overrated chemistry.

She frowned. Since Sue’s divorce, Jenna had felt so sure Dom was falling for Sue, though. He’d doted on Gretchen, too. Mistakenly, Jenna had assumed that the time Dom spent with Jenna wasn’t significant, especially since they usually went over strategies for strengthening her relationship with Seth. After Seth left for Tyler, Dom had overheard her speaking on the phone with an obstetrician, and he’d proposed.

He’d been so eloquent, too. He said he wanted her, loved her. He offered her everything she secretly wanted—marriage and a name for the baby. But Dom had one condition: that she come to Tyler and tell Seth about the pregnancy, just to ensure there wouldn’t be trouble later. Which, of course, there wouldn’t be. Seth couldn’t care less.

Blowing out a shaky breath, she murmured, “How did I manage to get lost in a town this small? Where’s the boarding house?” Her eyes traced the street, the frame houses reminding her that she wasn’t going to a four-star hotel. No USA Today and room service. “Ah,” she suddenly said, “that must be it. The address is right.”

Fortunately, there was plenty of room to park. Jenna hadn’t driven for years. She’d never been behind the wheel of a car this large, either, but it had been the least expensive at the rent-a-wreck. Getting out, she slammed the door, then lifted Gretchen from the back seat, deciding to check in before retrieving their suitcases from the car. “Hey, sweetie,” she murmured again, planting a kiss on Gretchen’s cheek and grinning down as the toddler’s short stubby legs wrapped around her waist.

Gretchen blinked, curling sleepily on Jenna’s shoulder as they headed for the door. Frowning, Jenna suddenly wished she hadn’t agreed to do work for Molly Blake. “You’re so spineless,” she whispered aloud, her breath fogging the chilly air. A month or so ago, Seth had given her Molly’s number, saying Molly was thinking of opening a bed-and-breakfast and might want to hire a freelance artist to do some promotion. Seth, of course, assumed Jenna would do the work via mail from New York.

And she should have. That way she could talk to Seth, just as she’d promised Dom, then leave immediately. Still, without having a reason other than her and Seth Spencer’s baby, she simply couldn’t bring herself to come to Tyler.

Anxiously twisting the ring on her finger again, she winced, hoping Sue and Dom found the note in the gallery saying she’d borrowed it. Dom said they’d shop for a ring as soon as she returned; meantime, she’d decided to give Seth the message loud and clear that she was getting married. Seth didn’t have to know this was a cubic zircon, not a real diamond.

“Hello,” she called, shifting Gretchen as she unzipped her black leather coat, opened the door of the boarding house and stepped inside, relieved to find the place clean and bright, bustling with early evening activity. “You must be Johnny Kelsey.”

“Sure am.” The man was in his sixties, had dark hair shot through with gray, and Jenna was relieved to see he was the first resident of Wisconsin who didn’t seem the least perturbed by fishnets and leather. “That must be Gretchen,” he continued. “We got a crib set up for her. Over there, that’s Patrick and Pam,” he said, nodding toward his son and his son’s wife.

Jenna nodded. “Ah,” she returned, smiling. “Molly mentioned you.” Molly had also said Pam Kelsey was an Olympic track medallist before being diagnosed with MS. Apparently, her health was good now, and the couple had adopted a son, Jeremy, now four. Before Jenna could continue, Johnny said, “And this fine young lady is Caroline Benning. She’s working at our best eatery in town, Marge’s Diner, so I’m sure you’ll meet again. Her room’s just down the hallway from yours.”

“Hi,” Jenna said, her eyes settling on the other woman. She was young, in her early twenties and all-American-pretty, tall and willowy with bright green eyes and light brown, highlighted hair. She’d been coming from the back of the house, carrying a quilt which she’d probably shaken out. When Gretchen leaned in, reaching for the bright fabric, Caroline stepped back, almost protectively.

“Now, don’t get so grabby, Gretchen,” Jenna said with a soft laugh, curling her hand gently over Gretchen’s chubby fingers and distracting her. “Lovely quilt work,” she added, her eyes taking in the handiwork. Before she could further study the design, Johnny Kelsey captured her attention again. “No baggage, Ms. Robinson?”

Baggage? She had plenty, of course, but Johnny wasn’t really inquiring about her relationship with Seth Spencer. She laughed again. “Do I look like a woman who travels without suitcases?”

He looked her over as if contemplating everything from her blue fingernail polish, to the decorative collar stenciled around her neck in henna, to her studded earlobes and clothes, then he chuckled. “Somehow I bet you’ve got more than one.”

“Please call me Jenna,” she corrected with a smile. “The things are in the car.” Pausing, she grinned down at Gretchen who was asleep on her shoulder. “I figure I’d better put this sleepy little rascal down first, though.”

And then Jenna would tell Seth Spencer she was pregnant.

Chapter Two

“Jenna couldn’t have stirred up Tyler, Wisconsin any more than this if she morphed into an Osterizer blender,” Seth murmured the next morning, staring through the open door of his private office toward the windows in the lobby. Deciding against shrugging into the muted brown suit jacket that matched his slacks, he ignored the hammering of his heart as she parallel parked in front of the bank. Or, more accurately, tried to parallel park.

Nervously, he knotted an olive tie that was neatly tucked under the collar of a white shirt he’d pressed himself. Six weeks hadn’t been enough time to adjust to not having Chinese laundries where he could drop off his shirts, but watching Jenna, he suddenly wished he’d done a better job of ironing his rumpled sleeves and cuffs. He looked the last way he wanted to—like a man desperately in need of a woman’s care.

Despite his apprehension—or, more accurately, hope about what Jenna was doing in Tyler—Seth smiled, taking in her seventh attempt to wedge the noisy, dented gold tank between Nora Gates Forrester’s new Miata roadster and Marge Phelps’s red Dodge truck. Jenna, who hadn’t yet realized she had a good six feet to spare, was now drawing a crowd on the sidewalk. “If more people show up, maybe I’ll sell popcorn and peanuts,” mused Seth. “Maybe even funnel cakes.”

Not that Jenna looked particularly pleased about having an audience. Knowing her, the Smashing Pumpkins or Nirvana were blasting from the radio, anyway, so she wouldn’t hear anybody coaching. Because of the way she was hunched over the wheel, turning it with all her might, Seth figured the Cadillac lacked power steering. As she painstakingly angled between the other two cars, she craned her head toward the child who was strapped in back, then whirled toward the windshield again.

Even from here, she looked so gorgeous that Seth’s breath caught. His heart clutched, too, not that his impenetrable features would allow anyone to guess it. He knew right then that Jenna Robinson wasn’t leaving his office until they made love on the smooth, polished mahogany surface of his desk. If the truth be told, he’d been fantasizing about that for weeks. A plan formed as he swept the work papers into a drawer. The second she came through the door, he’d kiss her senseless, pull her against his chest and hold her as if he’d never let go. Gently, he’d lift her, carry her to the desk and…

The more he thought about the countless things he wanted to do and say to her, the more Seth admitted he’d never wanted a woman so badly. “Unbelievable,” he whispered.

Jenna Robinson was really in Tyler, Wisconsin. Maybe she cared about him, after all. When he got to work this morning, he’d heard the news about her arrival, but he hadn’t really believed it. After the way his mother had left Tyler years ago, maybe he’d never fully believe a woman could care for him. Old emotions died hard, he guessed. The well-oiled Tyler gossip machine turned out to be right, though. After all, it wasn’t every day that a gold Cadillac lurched into Tyler.

This was the story Seth had gotten: Feeling naturally curious, Nora Gates Forrester had called Martha Bauer at Worthington House last night in hopes of finding out who the woman in the gold Cadillac was, since Martha usually knew everything. Martha couldn’t identify Jenna, however, so the two women conference-called Tisha, who was still at The Hair Affair. No one having their hair done had recognized Jenna, but after she checked into the boarding house, Anna Kelsey kindly called Lydia Perry, who then called Reverend Sarah Baron, who called Jenna at Kelsey’s to say her husband, Michael, wanted to look at the car muffler and to invite Jenna to Sunday services at the Tyler Fellowship Sanctuary—all of which meant that by the time Molly Blake arrived at the S&L this morning to discuss the loan for the bed-and-breakfast she wanted to open, he’d already found out from his brother that the new resident at Kelsey’s was Jenna.

“Jenna Robinson?” Seth had asked Molly anyway. As much as he hated gossip, he had been unable to stop himself from asking for more confirmation. “You’re sure, Molly?”

Molly had frowned as if suddenly terrified her loan might be jeopardized by her association with Jenna. “I hope that’s all right,” she’d said worriedly. “You did recommend her, didn’t you? I’m getting together with Jenna today, to discuss the promotional materials for the bed-and-breakfast…materials I’d hoped she could share with you tomorrow. I thought you two were friends…”

“We dated in New York,” Seth assured her.

Before he could remind Molly that he was a banker, not an ogre, Molly raced on, “Oh, good! Jenna sounded so nice on the phone, and she begged me to keep this news of her coming to Tyler a secret, so I did. I guess my saying so now doesn’t matter, since you know she’s here, but she wanted her arrival to be a surprise. She must simply adore you.” Molly lowered her voice. “And we all saw the cute little girl with her. She was strapped in the—”

“Back seat?” Seth had said, grinning but raising his eyes in surprise. “She’s about two? Chubby, with a big grin and squinched up nose? A spray of blond hair she keeps pulled back in bow-shaped barrettes?”

Molly giggled. “Sounds about right.”

“That’s Jenna’s boss’s daughter,” Seth hadn’t been able to stop himself from confiding, feeling eager for news of Jenna. Sure, he dreaded getting more deeply involved and courting the old, hurtful feelings left by his mother’s abandonment, but nothing more than hearing Jenna’s name practically did him in. It felt good in his mouth; speaking it reminded him of the dark, sensual hours they’d spent, and even now, he could almost feel her hair catching on his lips. “Jenna’s like a second mother to Gretchen,” he’d added with a frown, thinking of the child he’d come to know while dating Jenna. “It seems strange that she brought Gretchen here, though.”

“Oh,” Molly had laughed, blushing. “And here I was thinking the baby was—Oh, I don’t know what I was thinking, Mr. Spencer! I just guessed that maybe…”

Seth couldn’t help but catch Molly’s drift. “That the baby was mine?” A soft, startled chuckle had escaped his lips. The idea had taken him by surprise, but shouldn’t he have considered fatherhood before now? He was thirty-seven. Some men his age had kids who were heading off for college. If the truth be told, Seth liked the idea of kids; they were cute, funny and sweet. It was only women that worried him. “No wonder you want to open the Breakfast Inn Bed,” he’d managed to say aloud to Molly. “You’re obviously a romantic.”

“True, but the inn will be profitable,” Molly assured, her eyes narrowing as she continued surveying Seth. “Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this, but you’re right. I’m a romantic. Since you said you and Jenna dated in New York, maybe you should know that everybody took note of the wedding dress in the front seat of her car. Everybody wants to know if you two are…”

Somehow, he’d controlled his shocked expression, his mind reeling. Jenna had brought a wedding dress to Tyler? “Considering getting married?” he’d finished for Molly. “Not that I know of. If Jenna’s got that on her mind, she sure hasn’t informed me yet.”

Now he swallowed hard, his throat feeling dry and raw. What could be the meaning of Jenna’s bringing a wedding dress to Tyler? He was definitely the only man she knew here. Had he been wrong for the past six weeks? Had she really missed him as much as he’d secretly missed her? Had he been a fool not to offer her more trust?

“Looks like she might have come here to propose to me,” he murmured, feeling stupefied as he blew out a shaky breath.

Earlier, he’d been so overwhelmed that he’d barely heard the rest of Molly’s spiel as they’d continued discussing the status of her loan. Unfortunately, in addition to needing start-up capital, a neighbor who didn’t relish having a business next door to her was causing Molly some trouble. Seth hoped things would work out. He liked Molly immensely and wanted to give her the money, but protocol demanded he see her property first, something he’d said he’d do tomorrow with Jenna, since Molly wanted him to review Jenna’s plans for creating promotional materials.

By tomorrow I’ll be engaged. The voice came from nowhere, and Seth realized it was probably true, given that Jenna had breezed into Tyler with the wedding dress. “A wedding dress?” he’d said at one point to Molly. “Are you absolutely positive? You really saw this?”

Molly had nodded. “You could see it plain as day in the front seat of that car,” she’d assured. “I wasn’t that close, but Nora was in the window of her department store working on the Halloween display, so she got a better look. The streetlight was shining right into the car, she said, so she could see that the dress was of lace and sequins, and since it took up half the front seat, Nora figures it’s floor-length with a full skirt. If a veil’s needed, Nora said she just got some in for the bridal boutique. You know,” Molly added, “the one she just opened in her store.”

Seth hadn’t heard about the boutique, but there was enough detail in the description to convince him the rumor about the wedding dress was true. Strangely, none of his usual panic had descended when he thought of standing at the altar with Jenna. Deep down, he trusted her, didn’t he? He’d known her a long time. Hell, some couples tied the knot after knowing each other only a few weeks, right? And it sure did look as if Jenna had come all the way out to the boondocks to claim him.

Sure, he’d felt a little worried last night when he’d only thought the woman in the car was Jenna. But now he knew it was her. And if she’d come all the way to Tyler with a wedding dress, couldn’t he assume she’d want to make some kind of commitment? Didn’t that mean she might not abandon him in the future? All this time he’d told himself he was marriage-shy, but wasn’t that merely defensiveness?

Now he watched her get regally out of the car, her tall, slim body floating upward. She slammed the door and leaned into the back seat for Gretchen. A smile tugged his lips when he saw the baby girl he’d come to adore. A black knit cap was snuggled down around her ears, and Jenna had dressed her in black jeans and a leather jacket. Unbidden came the thought, Why not have kids of our own? I’m thirty-seven, and Jenna’s only thirty-four, so it’s not too late. There’s plenty of time. He thought of how much he’d loved hanging around with his brothers, Quinn and Brady, when they were kids, and of how much fun he’d had when he, Sue, Dom and Jenna had taken Gretchen trick-or-treating for the first time last Halloween. That was exactly a year ago. Suddenly, it seemed hard not to imagine Jenna—craftsy as she was—making costumes for their kids. In a year or two, maybe he and Jenna really would have a child….

“I don’t know,” he murmured. Maybe he was jumping the gun. Maybe Molly had gotten things all wrong, and there was no wedding dress. Seth guessed he’d find out the truth soon enough.

Outside, Jenna stepped around the Cadillac and to the curb, and he drew in yet another sharp breath at the sight of her. Six weeks without her had definitely been rough. In fact, right now he felt as if someone had given him a shot of straight testosterone. Despite that, he chuckled and shook his head, seeing that Brick Bauer and Lee Nielsen had stopped on the sidewalk to gape at her.

Any man would.

Yes, indeed, Jenna Robinson was quite a sight for Tyler. As usual, she’d done something new, inventive and wild with her hair. Jagged streaks of red shot through the jaw-length, auburn strands, and the cut made it look as if she were wearing a cap of soft, exotic feathers. Involuntarily, Seth’s fingers flexed with the need to touch it, then he licked where his lips had gone dry. Around the long, slender column of her swanlike neck someone—probably Gretchen’s mom, Sue—had painted a temporary henna design that resembled a lace choker.

Everything inside him tightened as his eyes drifted down to where the sides of a chic, A-lined, thigh-high black leather coat fell open over a tight, powder blue lace top, and by the time Seth’s eyes hit her miniskirt, he was a complete goner. A groan escaped him as he took in the hip-hugging fabric. “What am I going to do with you, lady?” he whispered.

She had the sort of endless, mouth-watering legs that went on for miles, and that seemed to beg a man to bend them and kiss the tender taut flesh behind her knees. Right now those scrumptious legs were encased in silver, black-patterned tights. Tall, skinny, knee-high boots were threaded with red laces that zigzagged up her slender calves.

By some miracle she didn’t look the least bit trampy. Given her clothes, she should have. But Jenna could slip into the most outrageous attire and waltz down a sidewalk looking like a centerfold for Class magazine. Her features were simply too refined to allow for the wrong impression. Her heart-shaped face was delicate and finely boned, and she held her perfectly formed mouth almost primly as if to ensure onlookers that she didn’t put up with any nonsense. The expression wasn’t just for show, either, as Seth well knew. On occasion, Jenna Robinson was a girl who came out—loud and proud—as a girl with attitude.

Her strange mix of prim censure and vampiness had first captured Seth’s attention—and imagination—nearly two years ago. Now his gaze riveted on her eyes, or at least what he could see of them, since they were obscured by round, wire-rimmed sunglasses.

Shifting Gretchen on her hip, she resolutely headed toward the front doors of the bank, making Seth feel more oddly nervous than he had in his whole life. All at once, he was aware that his palms had gotten damp, something that hadn’t even happened during the last stock market crash. Today was different, though. Infinitely more nerve-racking. Not only had the woman he’d left back in New York shown up in Tyler, but she’d apparently come bearing a wedding dress.

“Here’s to you, Ms. Robinson,” he whispered.

“HOW COULD YOU let this happen?” Jenna mouthed worriedly. Once Seth met her in the bank’s lobby and said hello in that smooth, melodious baritone that drove her so wild, she should have known her plans would derail. They always did.

Just looking at him had filled her with hopelessness. How could she tell him she was marrying Dom? Sure, she’d lain awake all night, carefully imagining herself charging into Tyler’s S&L to deliver her rehearsed speech about being pregnant and getting married. She’d practiced until she felt fully prepared for the encounter, buoyed up by Dom’s proposal and the fact that she was six weeks pregnant with a baby who needed a father. Dom loves you, Dom loves you, Dom loves you, she’d reminded herself, the words going through her mind like a mantra this morning as she’d gripped the wheel and rounded the town square in Tyler, driving toward the bank.

“All this time we’ve worked together,” she’d remembered Dom saying, his gentle voice brimming with emotion, “my feelings for you have grown, Jenna. And now that Seth’s back in Tyler, it’s my first real chance to tell you how deeply I feel, to ask you to marry me.”

“Somebody loves me,” she’d whispered when the S&L came into sight. “No matter what Seth says, I won’t forget Dom’s waiting for me in New York.” Countless times this morning, she’d changed clothes, and at least until she’d arrived on Main Street, U.S.A., she’d been sure her outfit was conservative enough for the bank…conservative enough to show Seth she was calm, cool, collected and not the least bit ruffled by how easily he’d left New York and their relationship.

When she’d gotten out of the car in Tyler, however, people had turned to stare, immediately reminding her of why she’d fled Bear Creek, North Carolina, years ago.

Well, let people look, she’d fumed silently as she’d headed inside the bank with Gretchen, working herself into a tizzy, already imagining her final, grand exit. She’d tell Seth, once and for all, that she didn’t need him, that everything was different now. Dom loved her so much he’d proposed, she’d announce boldly, then she’d push through the lobby doors and head straight back to New York. Imagination being what it was, she kept seeing herself hop into something far flashier than the dented Cadillac.

Not that it mattered. Like all best-laid plans, something had gone terribly wrong, and before Jenna could even open her mouth, Seth had chuckled. “Some car you’ve got there. I hope it was free.”

Was that all he intended to say after six weeks of separation? After Jenna had traveled all the way across the country to see him? She’d glared at him. “Are you saying you have a problem with my car?”

“Nope. It’s better entertainment than a movie. Everybody in Tyler’s talking about it. Martha Bauer swears it once belonged to Elvis, and when Jack Moray came in to deposit his weekly checks, he admitted he almost towed it from where it was parked in front of the Kelsey Boarding House last night.”

Curious in spite of herself, she’d said, “Jack Moray?”

Seth had nodded. “He’s a tow-truck owner. He thought it was abandoned, but Michael stopped him.”

“Michael?”

“The minister’s husband.”

“Oh, right. Sarah Baron. She’s the minister who called me,” Jenna had said, hating to admit how much she’d warmed to the show of down-home hospitality. She truly did despise small towns, she’d assured herself, and since Seth Spencer now lived in one, Jenna was very determined to keep it that way.

“And the man at the curb,” he’d continued, “the one staring at your inspection sticker. That’s Cooper Night Hawk. He’s a deputy.”

“I’m legal.”

Leveling her with an assessing male stare that had her fighting a shiver, Seth had softly returned, “You sure as hell don’t look legal, Jenna.”

“Come near me and you’ll get arrested.”

“You brought handcuffs?”

She’d shot Seth a look of censure. “Manacles.”

“Hope you’ll want to throw away the keys.”

At that tantalizing juncture, she’d at least gotten out the first five words of her planned speech. “Seth, we need to talk.”

“We’ll start with sweet nothings and go from there,” he’d assured lightly, the words of promise turning her legs to water.

By the time Jenna found herself standing in his office, she’d decided it was hopeless. Even moments before, as she’d steeled herself against him, Seth had managed to relieve her of Gretchen so quickly that the baby could have been a greased watermelon. He’d placed a guiding hand under Jenna’s elbow in that damnably sexy, gentlemanly gesture she was so determined to forget, the one that made her feel so much like a woman, and the next thing she’d known, he’d been slipping her coat from her shoulders and employing a bank teller to baby-sit Gretchen.

Now Jenna stared around his office. “Well,” she managed dryly, “here we are.”

Smiling, Seth shut the door, then quickly twisted the lock.

Her mouth dropped. She’d missed him physically, but she definitely had more self-respect than this. Holding out her hands, palms up, she schooled herself not to lose her nerve. “What I have to say isn’t that private.” She glared pointedly at the lock.

“No?”

Seth didn’t look convinced. In fact, he looked completely, unnervingly in control, reminding Jenna of exactly why she’d come. For once, it would be a pleasure to tell this man she had her own agenda. Her heart missed a beat. Why did the father of her coming baby have to be so handsome and commanding? Ever since she’d first laid eyes on Seth Spencer, she’d found him irresistible. He was a good six inches taller than she—six-foot-two to her five-eight—with dark brown, chocolate-colored hair he kept neatly trimmed over his ears. Slightly spiked bangs jagged onto a high forehead, accentuating brown eyes that shouldn’t have been so interesting, but that did crazy things to her insides, anyway. His squarish face was set with a hard, practical mouth that reminded her of how well he kissed and hinted at the mysterious moody silences she’d come to expect from him on occasion. Why was he so moody, though, she wondered now. What complaints could Seth have? He’d told her his mother had died years ago, but otherwise, his seemed to be a trauma-free childhood in a town that Norman Rockwell could have painted. As far as Jenna knew, he’d always been successful in his undertakings, not to mention groomed from birth to run this bank.

Whatever the case, Seth’s looks shouldn’t have made him so mouth-watering, but he was, and that annoyed her. Well, that, and the rumpled shirt he’d tucked into soft brown wool trousers that looked far too expensive for Tyler. The damn shirt made Jenna want to do the most foolhardy things for him, like set up an ironing board in his living room. Even worse, the bemused tilt of that hard, uncompromising mouth said Seth knew it.

“I’m waiting,” he said.

“Unlock that door.”

His lips stretched further, in a smile that both warmed and irritated. “Why? So you can run for the lobby, Jen?”

Jen. Why did he have to call me Jen? Jen was a pet name he reserved for special moments, such as when they were naked and wrapped in each other’s arms. She braced herself. Mentally rehearsing her speech for the last time, she felt unreality sweep through her. Suddenly, she felt like a bit player in a bad, low-budget zombie film, as if she was locked inside a room with Seth Spencer, but she couldn’t move or speak. It was as if an unseen hand had just appeared from nowhere and clamped down hard over her mouth. I’m pregnant and marrying Dom. Just say it!

Seth was still smiling.

And despite the promises to herself, something in Jenna’s heart gave. She didn’t want to react to him, no more than she wanted to react to this bank. The Tyler Savings & Loan, she thought. Seth’s bank. It was just as he’d so often described it to her, a simple brick building with a clock tower overlooking the town square. He’d always sounded so proud.

Maybe I’m being too hard on him, she found herself thinking as she gazed into brown eyes that were so ordinary and yet so strangely beguiling. She’d always known he was going to return to Tyler someday, right? It wasn’t as if the man had lied. Maybe it wasn’t right to drop the news on her so casually, but he’d never made a secret of the fact that he was being groomed for this job. Still…

I thought he’d gotten serious about me and would ask me to come.

But he hadn’t. And years of living with Ralph and Nancy Robinson had made Jenna tired of settling for less love than she deserved. Pushing aside the thoughts, she tried to hold onto her resolve. She was definitely marrying Dom within the week. It was the right thing to do, both for herself and the coming baby. It hurt, but she forced herself to think about how much time she and Seth had spent apart. Even while they’d dated, he’d made clear that he didn’t want to deepen the relationship. He’d never warmed to the topic of having a family…

Despite the circumstances, she found herself craving just one kiss from him. “You look good, Seth.” The words slipped out.

“You don’t look bad yourself, Jen.”

She edged back, against the door, her eyes darting around the simple, well-appointed office. She frowned when she saw the clear top of his polished wooden desk, and she wondered if he was happy with his move. “Doesn’t look like you’re keeping yourself too busy around here,” she said with concern. He’d always been so active on Wall Street.

“That,” Seth murmured, angling his body toward hers, “or I’ve got plans for the desk.”

Those damnably irresistible lights in his eyes made clear what he meant. “Plans?”

Leaning swiftly, he grasped her fingers, the touch of his skin sending a current of electricity dancing up her arm. Panicking, her knees weakening, she told herself to let go of Seth’s hand, but something in its smooth heat made her twine her fingers through his. Stepping backward, he pulled her toward the desk, and even though her heart was beating out of control, she followed. Tell him about the baby! Tell him you’re marrying Dom! screamed a voice in her mind.

Another said, If you don’t make love with him now, Jenna, you’ll never get another chance. It’s only sex to Seth, nothing more, but you’ll always miss the feel of his arms wrapped around you. If you don’t do this now, you’ll never feel his chest, hard and crushing against yours, again, or the pounding of his heart. You’ll never have the opportunity to feel so physically close to a man again. What you share with him is so special, not something you’ll find with Dom.

Her hind end hit the desk. As Seth lowered her to the surface, she gasped. Scents of expensive aftershave and cologne came in tandem with starch from his shirt as his strong, warm body covered hers. Their hips locked. Just as she registered his arousal, he angled his head downward, his lips hovering. She opened her mouth, knowing things had gone too far. She had to tell him about Dom. Now! “Seth—”

His mouth covered hers. The swift capture of her lips communicated full intent, and the onslaught of his tongue challenged, plunging deeply, wetly. Long ago they’d discussed safe sex and knew they were both healthy, but on occasions such as this, they’d sometimes made love without protection like teenage fools. It was how she’d gotten pregnant. And since she already was, she figured there was no danger now. Except that you’re getting married! said a voice. But then, she hadn’t really said yes yet, had she?

“Seth,” she suddenly protested.

“Jen,” he’d murmured simply. “Oh, Jen.”

She tried to find her voice again, but she’d missed him too much over the past six weeks, and the power of his kisses were more than she could stand. Later, she’d be furious over her lack of willpower. Later, she’d be worried about this momentary, understandable lapse, but she’d tell herself she had every right to go through with her plans to marry another man.

Besides, Seth didn’t care, did he?

Her mind hazed as her hands cupped his shoulders, then glided over the back of his crisp cotton shirt. No, Seth didn’t care, she told herself as a dark strong hand slid effortlessly down her lace top, opening the buttons, right before effortlessly opening the front catch of her bra. No, he could never love her, she gasped as his mouth covered a nipple, the slow, sensual swirls of his tongue seeming to touch the core of her.

She wanted to feel his chest.

That was her last coherent thought as her hands fumbled with the knot of his tie, then the buttons of his shirt. Pushing apart the sides, her palms cupped rock-hard pectorals, then her fingers delved hungrily into hairs that felt like tangled silk. Vaguely, she was thinking about the fact that he probably didn’t want children. No, whenever she’d commented on how cute they were, playing in the parks in New York, he’d never said anything affirming.

Now his hands glided up her outer thighs, pushing up the skirt she should have known better than to wear because she knew how much it would arouse him. She tried not to buy into the illusion she’d allowed herself for the past year and a half, the illusion that Seth really did care, but only spoke through his body, rather than in words. It was a nice illusion. And it seemed so plausible right now. Surely, no man kissed like this if he didn’t love a woman.

“Seth,” his name escaped with a soft moan, the core of her aching as he drew down her tights and panties.

“Jen,” he whispered again, his blistering hot mouth sweeping hers again as his trousers dropped. And then he was inside her. Feeling him so deeply filling her, she flung back her head, drifting to a place where only he could take her. No man had ever given her this kind of pleasure. Suddenly, she wanted to cry, knowing she could never live without this kind of passion, but that she’d have to. I should have…should told him, she thought incoherently. Have to tell him right now… And then the thoughts were gone and she shattered. His release came with hers, tearing at her heart. Wasn’t this kind of perfectly choreographed sex almost unheard of?

But Seth didn’t love her! She had to move on, to marry Dom. Her senses still reeling, she quickly began to right her clothes, furious at herself but knowing she had a responsibility to herself and to the coming baby. Forget Seth! She was starting a family.

“Seth,” she managed weakly, her body still awash with his heat as she slid off the desk, tugging down her skirt. “I can’t believe this happened,” she began, running a hand through her hair. “But I know you’ll understand. I think we can talk reasonably. We’ve known each other such a long time, shared so much, and while I know we’ve never…uh, pretended to mean more to each other, I think we can speak openly here.”

Nodding, he buckled his belt, shooting her a gentle smile. “All of Tyler’s wondering why you’re in town. And so am I. So, go ahead and say whatever’s on your mind.”

“I know it’s only been six weeks,” she began, wishing she hadn’t made love to him, but trying to tell herself this visit was still going fine, that she could recoup her losses, “however, a lot’s happened since you left New York.”

Looking pleased in a way she couldn’t quite understand, Seth eyed her playfully as he knotted his tie. “Go on.”

Forcing herself not to notice that those irresistible dark brown eyes were as warm as whiskey mixed with liquid smoke, she tried to prioritize her thoughts, then she forced herself to continue. “I…well, the first thing I guess you should know is that Dom and I are getting married.”

Chapter Three

“Married? After what we just did?” Seth managed, unable to process what she’d just said. Surely he’d misunderstood. Jenna wasn’t marrying another man! She couldn’t! His body was still on fire. His thighs were weak from how she’d sapped every last drop of his strength, and his voice was low and raspy from the raw way he’d kept whispering her name. “You’re telling me this after making love to me, Jenna?”

“We didn’t make love,” she protested nervously, quickly buttoning her top and tucking it into her leather miniskirt. “We had sex.” She colored. “There’s a big difference, Seth. There really is.”

Given the circumstances, her pointing it out was sorely offensive. His lips parted in exasperation. “You don’t think I know that?”

Exhaling a whoosh of annoyed breath, she arched a thin, dark, perfectly tweezed eyebrow and challenged, “Do you?”

If he was honest, maybe not, but under the circumstances he hardly wanted Jenna enumerating his deficiencies in relationships with women or otherwise probing his sensitive spots. For the first time, he silently damned her for knowing him well enough to guess his Achilles’ heel. The truth was, he really didn’t have much experience with women. Oh, he loved sex, of course. That was a man’s lifeblood as far as Seth Spencer was concerned—an attitude shared by all the Spencer men—but when it came to mixing pleasure with emotion, Seth had always avoided women. Until Jenna.

“I guess you make love to Dom?” he said now, trying to keep his tone even. But when could Dom and Jenna have gotten together, a voice in his mind asked. And if what Jenna said was true and she was getting married, why had she made love to Seth now?

Forget it, Seth thought. A relationship with Dom simply couldn’t have progressed to the point where they were getting married. Seth had only left New York six weeks ago! Besides, he, not Dom, had been dating Jenna for the past year and a half. Sure, deep down he’d wanted to head back to New York and claim her, but Seth had known that was impractical. He had a bank to run.

Yesterday, however, he’d begun considering calling Jenna in Manhattan, to see if she’d changed her mind and might want to keep in touch with him. He’d barely admitted it to himself at the time, but he’d been considering suggesting that Jenna fly to Tyler for a long weekend visit…. Seth hadn’t been sure he should take that risk, though.

And now Jenna was in Tyler. Just moments ago she’d been half naked and lying across his desk, too, and now Seth simply couldn’t grasp what was happening. Had Jenna really said she was marrying Dom Milano?

She didn’t bother to answer his question. He watched in stupefaction as she straightened her top, then he listened to the rustling fabric of tights as her endlessly long, showgirl legs scissored toward the door. As furious as he was, he had to admit he was affected by her graceful movements. She looked like she was dancing, not fleeing his office as if the hounds of hell were on her heels. When she turned, Seth was pleased to see her chin quivering. It was a show of weakness virtually unknown to Jenna, and while he wasn’t proud of it, Seth hoped she was feeling even guiltier than that uncharacteristic tremor indicated, especially if she was really marrying Dom.

But she’s not. She can’t be. It’s impossible. Besides, even if she was, why would she come all the way to Tyler. Once more Seth reminded himself that for the past year and a half she’d been dating him, not Dom, then pure fury whipped through him. Had Jenna been sleeping with Dom while she was seeing Seth?

He drew in a deep, steadying breath, but his mind continued to race. He had a million questions, but he was far too much of a man to make himself vulnerable. He just wished he couldn’t so easily see Dom’s appeal, but Dom was one of those sexy, swarthy Italians women always swooned over. He looked like a younger, taller Al Pacino, and he managed to share female interests without ever seeming unmasculine. He was a clotheshorse, for instance, just like Jenna, and Dom could talk as enthusiastically about street rumbles he’d fought during his youth in Little Italy as he could about other things Jenna loved so dearly, such as art shows and foreign films.

Grinding his teeth, Seth had a flash fantasy in which Dom was translating Italian movie subtitles for Jenna in a seductive voice, and then Seth tried not to recall the knowing look in Dom’s teasing, flashing dark eyes. Dom very definitely possessed the kind of challenging male gaze that promised a woman passion, and as he visualized that insinuating look, Seth’s fingers curled, knotting into tight, angry fists.

“I’d prefer to keep the specifics of my relationship with Dom private,” Jenna was saying stiffly from her place at the door. “But I—I thought you should, uh, at least know what was happening. Actually, Dom insisted you be told this. And…well, Seth, there’s something else I really need to tell you now….”

“I’ve heard enough already,” he growled under his breath, shoving his clenched hands deep into the pockets of his trousers, largely so she wouldn’t see him fidget and realize how affected he was by this news. “Jenna,” he continued, raising his voice but managing to keep it thoroughly controlled. “Let’s stick with Dom for the moment. If you’re marrying him, why didn’t you bother to tell me when you waltzed into my office?”

“How could I? You didn’t give me a chance!” she burst out, her voice still hoarse and tinged with arousal, the dark color that suffused her cheeks deepening to a guilty scarlet.

“You’re right about that,” he muttered, unable to take his eyes from her as he thrust a frustrated hand through his short dark hair. Gritting his teeth, he decided she had some nerve looking so damn gorgeous, standing against the door, so tall and slender, her scrap of a skirt topping those annoyingly long, luscious legs that had been wrapped around his waist just minutes ago, squeezing the breath out of him.

Seth bit back a groan. He’d missed her so much. Even now, her silken red-streaked hair looked too touchable, feathering against poreless cheeks that had been as smooth as water under his mouth. Her lips were swollen, berry-red and pleasantly bruised from the needy, insistent crush of his kisses. Despite the situation, looking at her made heat pool in his belly, filling him with ravenous lust all over again. He glanced at the desk, then blew out a murderous sigh.

“Okay,” he forced himself to say, moving toward her, his mind whirling, his voice taking on a harder edge. “You’re absolutely right, I didn’t give you a chance to talk to me when you got here, but you didn’t exactly complain about it, did you, Jenna?” Hadn’t she come here for exactly what he’d given her? Hadn’t she been going crazy without him? His mind still couldn’t quite process what she’d said about Dom. “What did you expect me to do?” he bit out when she didn’t respond, suddenly unable to contain his uncertainty any longer.

“Expect you to do?”

“Yes…when you come all the way here to Tyler and waltz into my office dressed like that.”

She stared down, looking appalled. “Dressed like what?”

She knew what. Seth’s lips parted in shock as his eyes drifted upward, over the sinfully short skirt, to the powdery lace top that so snugly cupped her full breasts. The collar wasn’t fully buttoned, and even from here, Seth could see ample cleavage. No, he decided, it definitely wasn’t his imagination. Jenna’s outfit was calculated to drive a man wild. And it had worked.

She was surveying him with nonchalance that had to be feigned. “What happened is all my fault, I assume?”

As if I attacked her. “Since when is making love anybody’s fault?” he couldn’t help but challenge.

“We had sex,” she corrected.

“You seem committed to keeping that distinction clear,” he muttered. No doubt, because she really intended to marry Dom. Realizing he was standing numbly in front of her, like a fool, Seth lifted a hand and leaned it against the door’s molding, conscious of the fact—but hardly caring—that he’d trapped her against the wall. Warring emotions ripped through him as his gaze dropped, tracing the rose swell of breasts he’d just palmed and tortured with his tongue. Breasts, if the truth be told, he’d come to secretly think belonged to him. Dammit! Surely he’d heard her wrong. That, or he was neck-deep in denial. But he wasn’t, was he? Earlier today hadn’t Molly Blake said Jenna adored him?

“This is definitely your fault,” he suddenly said, knowing he was contradicting himself, but unable to help it since befuddling his mind was only one of the many things Jenna Robinson did so well to him. “You damn well know how I react to tights with dark seams, high-heeled boots and leather miniskirts, Jen.”

She swallowed hard, color flooded her cheeks, and as he curiously watched the pulse ticking in her neck, Seth was suddenly sure she’d worn the provocative clothes on purpose. Oh, yes, Jenna had had every intention of arousing him. Making love with her hadn’t fully cured him of his desire, either, he thought angrily, his groin traitorously aching. But why the incredible claim she was marrying Dom Milano?

“When I dressed this morning, I wasn’t thinking,” she now defended with unnerving calm. Showing a spark of the usual Jenna, her glittering green eyes now settled on his, holding a dare. “But then, I didn’t happen to pack anything made of burlap, Seth.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he returned dryly, still fighting denial about the abrupt, southward turn of their relationship. “Judging from that crowd you attracted on the sidewalk, tights with seams up the back go over well in Tyler.” He arched an eyebrow. “Staying in town long? If you don’t mind me asking, that is?”

“A few days,” Jenna said, her low-pitched voice still stiff. “I came…to work with Molly Blake on the promotion for her new bed-and-breakfast.”

That was rich. Before this, Jenna had never left New York for freelance jobs. “Happy to have gotten the work for you.”

“Thanks for the referral.”

He eyed her. “Couldn’t do the work by courier?”

Her mouth tightened. “No, it just so happens, I couldn’t, Seth. Not this time. This job is special.”

Seth didn’t believe it. Jenna had done freelance art jobs for clients in far more desirable locales than Tyler, and she’d never bothered to leave home. No, Seth decided, relief flooding him, none of this made a lick of sense. She’d come to town expressly to see him, and maybe it was more her idea than she was admitting. “Dom?” he managed again, his eyes narrowing in challenge. “Did you really say you’re marrying Dom Milano?”

Jenna nodded. “Yes, Dom.”

She sounded so serious. But Dom was merely her friend. They’d been buddies for years. Besides, after Sue Ellis’s divorce, it seemed obvious that Sue and Dom were getting together. Seth was usually as steady as a rock, but now he felt as if the floor were shifting under his feet. “Jenna,” he couldn’t help but say. “You’re serious? You’re getting married?”

Dangerous emotion sparked in her eyes. “I take it that surprises you?”

Seth could barely control his voice. “Hell, yes, it does.”

The comment only seemed to rile her. “Why?”

His lips parted in astonishment and the roughly spoken words were out before he thought them through. “Because I shared your bed for the past a year and a half.”

“Intermittently,” she returned, her head now bobbing up and down as if this confirmed some opinion she’d privately held for some time. “And sharing my bed was fine for you. I see. But now there’s something wrong with me marrying someone else?”

“No,” he shot back, determined not to let her fluster him. “I guess not. Except for the fact that we just had some rather amazing sex on my desk.”

“Sex,” she said knowingly. “Is it really so hard to imagine a man wanting a future with me?” Her voice rose passionately as if they were now having exactly the conversation she’d anticipated. “Is it really so difficult to believe a man might love me?”

No. Of course not. He’d thought he loved her a few minutes ago, when she was still outside standing on the sidewalk. “Five minutes ago you seemed lovable enough,” Seth admitted, unable to keep the huffiness from his tone. “So lovable, in fact, that if I was Dom, I’d be worried. Last I heard, faithfulness is usually an issue when it comes to marriage.” Not that it had been with his mother.

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