Gabe Deveraux on baby-making with Maggie Calloway…

Sperm donor?

She’s lost her mind if she thinks I would just stand by and let her use the services of an anonymous sperm donor! A beautiful gal like Maggie deserves to know her baby’s father. Maggie should be loved and cherished by a good man worthy of her love, one who has won her heart.

Maggie is as stubborn as she is lovely. So it’s going to take a bit of strategizing to convince her to change her mind. I am more than willing to be her baby’s father. Only, there’s no way that the birth of any child of mine would be the direct result of my utilizing something as sterile and impersonal as a sperm bank!

We’re going to have to do this the old-fashioned way.

Dear Reader,

Millionaire. Prince. Secret agent. Doctor. If any—or all—of these men strike your fancy, well…you’re in luck! These fabulous guys are waiting for you in the pages of this month’s offerings from Harlequin American Romance.

His best friend’s request to father her child leads millionaire Gabe Deveraux to offer a bold marriage proposal in My Secret Wife by Cathy Gillen Thacker, the latest installment of THE DEVERAUX LEGACY series. A royal request makes Prince Jace Carradigne heir to a throne—and in search of his missing fiancée—in Mindy Neff’s The Inconveniently Engaged Prince, part of our ongoing series THE CARRADIGNES: AMERICAN ROYALTY. (And there are royals galore to be found when the series comes to a sensational ending in Heir to the Throne, a special two-in-one collection by Kasey Michaels and Carolyn Davidson, available next month wherever Harlequin books are sold.)

Kids, kangaroos and a kindhearted woman are all in a day’s work for cool and collected secret agent Mike Wheeler in Secret Service Dad, the second book in Mollie Molay’s GROOMS IN UNIFORM series. And a big-city doctor attempts to hide his true identity—and his affections—for a Montana beauty in The Doctor Wore Boots by Debra Webb, the conclusion to the TRADING PLACES duo.

So be sure to catch all of these wonderful men this month—and every month—as you enjoy their wonderful love stories from Harlequin American Romance.

Happy reading,

Melissa Jeglinski

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin American Romance

Cathy Gillen Thacker
My Secret Wife

This book is for my mom and dad, who, in the last year, have shown me what courage, determination and the power of love are all about.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Cathy Gillen Thacker married her high school sweetheart and hasn’t had a dull moment since. Why, you ask? Well, there were three kids, various pets, any number of automobiles, several moves across the country, his and her careers, and sundry other experiences. But mostly, there was love and friendship and laughter, and lots of experiences she wouldn’t trade for the world.

You can find out more about Cathy and her books at www.cathygillenthacker.com, and you can write her c/o Harlequin Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017.

Who’s Who in the Deveraux Family

Tom Deveraux—The head of the family and CEO of the Deveraux shipping empire that has been handed down through the generations.

Grace Deveraux—Estranged from Tom for years, but back in town—after a personal tragedy—for some much-needed family support.

Chase Deveraux—The eldest son and the biggest playboy in the greater Charleston area.

Mitch Deveraux—A chip off the old block and about to double the size of the family business via a business/marriage arrangement.

Dr. Gabe Deveraux—The “Goodest” Samaritan around. Any damsels in distress in need of the good doctor’s assistance…?

Amy Deveraux—The baby sister. She’s determined to reunite her parents.

Winnifred Deveraux Smith—Tom’s widowed sister. The social doyenne of Charleston, she’s determined never to marry. That’s not what she has in mind for her niece and nephews, though.

Herry Bowles—The butler. Distinguished, indispensable and devoted to his boss, Winnifred.

Eleanor—The Deveraux ancestor with whom the legacy of ill-fated love began.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter One

Gabe Deveraux met Maggie Callaway halfway down the steps to his beach house and regarded her with embarrassment. “Thanks for coming,” he said, waving as the last of the Isle of Palms fire trucks drove away.

“You said it was an emergency.” Maggie looked at the charred interior of the rear of his house, then turned back to him. She was dressed as she always was when working—in work boots, nice-fitting jeans, a long-sleeved cotton shirt and an open khaki vest with multiple pockets. Her honey-blond hair framed her piquant face in tousled waves. Her kissable lips were softly glossed, her lively light-green eyes alight with interest as she looked him over from head to toe. “What happened here?” she asked, her gaze roving the wrinkled state of his clothes before returning once again to his unshaven jaw and weary eyes. At five foot five, she was some seven inches shorter than he was. “Did you finally decide to learn how to cook?”

Gabe grimaced and shoved a hand through the short layers of his hair as he led Maggie all the way inside. “Actually, I’m not really sure how it happened,” he admitted.

“Well, I am.” Penny Stringfield emerged from the master bedroom on the second floor and walked down the hallway overlooking the first floor to the stairs. The petite redhead was dressed in a hospital nurse’s uniform and carried a suitcase in one hand, a smaller toiletries bag in the other. “I put some soup on to boil and then forgot about it,” Penny explained to both Maggie and Gabe as she came down the staircase and walked over to them. “The pan boiled dry and the wallpaper caught fire, and the next thing I knew it was time to dial 911.”

Her face filled with regret, Penny set her things down, propelled herself into Gabe’s arms and hugged him fiercely. Over the top of her head, Gabe saw Maggie’s faintly disapproving expression as she watched what was going on between him and his houseguest.

“I’m so sorry, Gabe,” Penny said, in a voice still scratchy from the voluminous tears she had shed the night before. “I never meant to set your kitchen on fire while you were at the hospital. Especially after last night. If you hadn’t been here for me, well, I don’t know what I would have done.”

“I was glad to help,” Gabe said, knowing even as he spoke the soothing words how they would likely be misinterpreted by Maggie. He grasped Penny’s shoulders and drew her back so she had no choice but to look into his face. “You know that. But—”

“But nothing,” Penny sniffed indignantly. “I’m moving to a hotel now.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he said firmly. Recalling how devastated Penny had been the night before, when she had first showed up on his doorstep, Gabe’s heart went out to her. Although why Penny felt that Lane Stringfield was about to stop loving her, Gabe still didn’t know, because she hadn’t explained. All he knew for sure was that Penny was very upset, very frightened and agitated, and still very in love with Lane. People in that condition needed a friend. And since he was the one Penny had turned to, he felt bound to do whatever was necessary to help her.

“Yes, I do, Gabe.” Fleeting regret crossed Penny’s face, as she wiped her tears away. “We both know it’s for the best,” she said, pausing to blow her nose delicately. “I never should have agreed to stay here with you in the first place. The last thing I want to do is drag you into the middle of the breakup of my marriage.”

Gabe wasn’t so sure the Stringfield union was ending—after all, the two had been man and wife for five years now. Happily espoused, as far as he and everyone else could see. Surely, whatever the misunderstanding was, it could be cleared up.

Catching the curious, slightly jealous expression on Maggie’s face out of the corner of his eye, Gabe faced his houseguest determinedly and tried again. “Penny—”

“I’ll be fine, Gabe.” Penny stepped back and away from Gabe. “Really. I’m not so sure about your kitchen, however.”

“Oh, we can fix that,” Maggie said, already eyeing the devastation with a professional kitchen designer’s unerring eye.

“Good. Because I want to help pay for it,” Penny said emphatically. She picked up her bags, stepped past. “I’ll talk to you later, at the hospital, Gabe.”

Gabe waited until Penny had driven away, then turned back to Maggie. As he had suspected, she did not look happy with him at all. “It’s not what you think,” he said quietly, guessing from the downturned corners of her soft lips what her thoughts were. “Penny Stringfield and I are not romantically involved.” He had not come between Lane and Penny the way he had inadvertently come between Maggie and his brother, when she and Chase were just days from saying “I Do.”

Maggie shrugged her slender shoulders as she plucked a small spiral notepad from one of the pockets of her khaki cargo vest. “Did I say you caused the breakup of Penny’s marriage?” she said coolly as she removed a pen from another pocket, flipped back the cover on her notepad and began to scribble notes to herself.

“You didn’t have to.” Gabe followed Maggie around as she inspected the damage the licking flames had done to his appliances, cabinets, walls and windows. Although all were still standing, all were so smoke-, flame- and water-damaged they were going to have to be ripped out and replaced. Needing some fresh air, Gabe tried to open the window and found the frame so warped it wouldn’t open. He went to the patio door opposite and opened that to let more fresh ocean air blow in. “I can tell by the look on your face that you’ve jumped to the conclusion that I’m responsible,” he continued as the first floor filled with the cool ocean breeze. “But it’s not true. Penny and I are just friends. All I was trying to do was help her out by giving her a place to crash until she calmed down.” And came to her senses, Gabe added mentally.

“Look, Gabe, it’s really none of my business.” Careful not to back up against anything, Maggie tipped her head back and studied the soot clinging to every inch of his kitchen ceiling, “Since you and I are just friends, too.”

“Yeah, well, that wasn’t really my choice now, was it?” Gabe said, as Maggie squatted down and tested the vinyl tile that had melted into the water-logged floorboard beneath it. “I wanted to date you.” And, in fact, had asked her out several times during the past few weeks, only to be turned down with one flimsy excuse after another.

Exasperation swept into Maggie’s high, delicately boned cheeks as she stood. Propping one hand on her hip, she squared off with him again. “We have to face it, Gabe, whether we want to or not.” Regret shimmered in her pretty long-lashed eyes. “I caused your entire family a great deal of unhappiness when I broke off my plans to marry your brother just days before we were to walk down the aisle, and I did it because I was attracted to you.”

Fresh guilt flooded Gabe. He refused to let it get to him as he met Maggie’s gaze, bluntly and emphatically reminding her of the reconciliation that had taken place a few weeks prior, after two years of considerable familial unrest. “Chase has forgiven us.”

“But I’m not so sure the rest of your family has, or ever will,” Maggie replied. “Nor can I say I blame them. The whole episode was really humiliating and embarrassing for everyone. And we only made it worse when we tried to date, immediately after I ended it with your older brother. So I think, for a lot of reasons, it’s best we continue just to be friends.”

Gabe sighed.

Intellectually, he knew Maggie was right. His parents, sister Amy and brother Mitch were a long way from ever forgiving Maggie for the acrimony she had caused his already broken family. It didn’t stop him from wanting her. Nor her, he guessed, from wanting him. That had been proven weeks ago, when, without warning, they had met to talk about something else and suddenly found themselves kissing again. And worse, been spotted by Chase when they were doing so!

Emotionally, he still wanted her—for reasons he had yet to closely examine. Reasons he probably didn’t want to examine.

“So back to why you called me here,” Maggie said, commandeering Gabe’s attention once again. “What is it exactly that you want me to do for you?” she asked in a crisp, all-business tone that let Gabe know in an instant that any fantasies he might still be harboring about the two of them were not about to come true, now or at any other time.

Gabe grimaced and pushed his disappointment aside, looked her straight in the eye and directed just as firmly, “I want all the damage cleared away, and my kitchen put back the way it was as soon as possible. So. Now that you know what I want—” Gabe regarded Maggie impatiently, folding his arms in front of him “—how fast can you do it?”

WASN’T THAT JUST LIKE rich boy Gabe Deveraux, Maggie thought. To want what he wanted when he wanted it. Damn the consequences. “Right now, I’ve got a four-month waiting list,” she said, a trifle impatiently.

Gabe shoved a hand through his midnight-black hair. His distress showed in his boyishly handsome face. “I can’t live like this. I need my house repaired right away.” He fastened his gaze on her face. “Isn’t there anything you can do to speed things up?”

Maggie had to turn away from the seductive expression in his blue-gray eyes. “Sure.” She shrugged, telling herself she was immune to the desire that shimmered through her whenever she was this close to his lean and athletic six-foot frame, now that she had learned the hard way that his interest in her would always be only a fleeting—and hence hurtful—thing. “But it would cost you double time.”

Gabe beamed. “Done!” he said enthusiastically.

Maggie told herself she was only accommodating Gabe’s wishes to help boost the profits of the home-remodeling-business-turned-kitchen-design emporium she had inherited from her mother and father the year before. She didn’t want to spend time with him, or do anything that would further the mounting sexual tension between them. Which was why she had avoided seeing Gabe—and everyone else in his family—until about a month ago, when a medical problem had prompted her to call Gabe, to get some advice—and a referral—she could trust.

He had come through for her that afternoon, as she had known he would.

But he had also kissed her.

And stirred up a lot of feelings she hadn’t wanted to feel.

Since then, Gabe and his brother Chase had made up and agreed to let the past be just that. Which left Gabe wanting to date her again. But knowing Gabe never dated any one woman for more than a few weeks, if that long, Maggie had declined. Repeatedly.

And she was glad she had.

She didn’t want her heart broken by Gabe again.

Aware Gabe was waiting for her to continue, Maggie said, “I can get the guys to start clearing out the charred rubble this morning. But we won’t be able to do anything more than that until I clear it with the client whose job I was to begin tomorrow morning.”

“Just do what you can as fast as you can,” Gabe said with a frown.

While Maggie was on the phone with the next client on her waiting list, Gabe’s brother Chase arrived. As she watched her former fiancé, now a happily married man, mount the steps to Gabe’s beach house, which was just a mile or so from Chase’s own, Maggie thought how odd it was to have no feeling at all for Chase, except maybe a lingering warmth—the kind you had for a guy who had once been your boyfriend, but who now was merely a casual acquaintance. Had she ever really loved Chase Deveraux, surely she would have felt more for him now. But she didn’t. Which only went to show, Maggie thought dispiritedly, that she really didn’t know anything about what the love between a man and a woman should be after all.

“Hey, Mags,” Chase said with a smile the moment Maggie got off her cell phone. “I’ve got a proposition for you. I want to do a story on this kitchen fire and a before-and-after photo-spread of the renovation for Modern Man magazine. Interested?”

“I wouldn’t mind the free advertising,” Maggie said. The magazine Chase published was one of the hottest publications for men. A lot of women read it, too.

Chase nodded, pleased. “Great. I’ll send Daisy Templeton over on a daily basis to photograph the work in progress.”

The pager attached to Gabe’s belt went off. “It’s the hospital. Excuse me for a minute.”

Maggie and Chase stepped outside on the deck to give Gabe the privacy he needed while talking to the hospital. Chase looked at Maggie curiously. “So what’s going on between the two of you?” he asked, abruptly becoming more protective older brother to Gabe, than ex-fiancé to Maggie. “Are you dating now or what?”

Maggie had the feeling a part of Chase would have been relieved if they had been—it would have been easier on his male ego had she and his younger brother not been able to keep their hands off each other. It would have explained once and for all why she’d left him at the altar to be with Gabe. Because everyone knew Maggie wasn’t the type of woman to string any man along.

“Gabe and I are just friends, Chase,” Maggie responded quietly. And not very good ones at that, Maggie thought, given the continuing sexual tension between them. The fact their relationship was unrequited and destined to stay that way made a strictly platonic relationship between her and Gabe all but impossible.

“That’s too bad.” Chase’s disappointment was evident. Maggie knew Chase had hoped his forgiveness would spur her and Gabe on to a more meaningful relationship. “I want Gabe to be with his dream woman,” Chase said seriously. “And I’ve thought for a while now that woman was you.”

“Well, it’s not,” Maggie said briskly, recalling all too well how swiftly and remorselessly Gabe had dumped her. “But thanks for caring enough to want to see your brother happy,” she said sincerely, relieved that Chase was no longer angry with her for the mistakes she had made when she was engaged to him.

Chase rested his hands on her shoulders. “I want to see you both happy, Mags. As happy as Bridgett and I are,” Chase said firmly.

“I want that, too,” Maggie said. She just didn’t see how it would ever happen with her and Gabe, no matter what Chase and his new bride Bridgett hoped.

Chase then headed off for the magazine office, and Maggie got her laptop computer out of her truck. By the time she had walked back into the living room, which, thanks to the quick response of the fire department as well as the judicial use of a fire extinguisher on the blaze in the kitchen had remained unscathed, Gabe was just getting off the phone.

“Sorry about that. I had a patient admitted last night. We don’t know who she is. She’s eighty-something and obviously confused. I was hoping the police would have been able to connect her with a missing persons report, but so far, nothing.”

“Is she going to be all right?”

“I hope so. But we have to figure out what’s wrong with Jane Doe first, and that’s not easy to do when we don’t have a medical history on her, and she isn’t able to explain to us how she ended up in the historic district with a sprained ankle in the middle of the night, or even how long she was lying there on the sidewalk before the newspaper delivery person happened along and found her. But she’s such a lovely lady I can’t imagine she could go missing for very long. So I’m sure it’ll all be worked out in a matter of hours.”

Maggie frowned as she mulled over the dilemma. “You could always get the TV stations involved,” she suggested.

“We will, believe me, if we don’t get some answers soon.” Gabe turned his intent blue-gray gaze on her. “And speaking of medical situations—how are you?”

MAGGIE HAD BEEN HOPING Gabe wouldn’t bring that up.

It was bad enough she had called him for advice and broken down in his arms; his pity for her had led to the infamous kiss on the beach that Chase had seen—and a lot of family turmoil between Gabe and his brother Chase. True, that conflict had since been resolved, but she was still embarrassed about the way she had bared her soul to Gabe that day. It wasn’t like her to reveal her deepest hurts or darkest fears to anyone. She preferred giving off a self-possessed, independent aura. No way was she a vulnerable woman in need of a man to lean on. Steeling herself against the kindness in his eyes, Maggie swallowed, and said, “I saw the physician you recommended.”

“And…?” Gabe tensed as he waited for her reply.

“I have severe endometriosis.” Maggie turned her back to the three Callaway Kitchen Construction trucks pulling up in the drive. She folded her arms in front of her and faced Gabe with as much courage as she could muster. “If I want to bear a child, and I do, very much, it’s recommended that I get pregnant as soon as possible.”

Gabe looked first stunned—then accepting over the news of her impending parenthood. “Who’s the lucky dad?” he asked casually, thrusting his hands in the pockets of his slacks, as truck doors opened and shut and heavy work boots clopped up the beach-house steps.

Maggie hedged, aware the next part was even more embarrassing. “I don’t know yet,” she said, biting her lower lip. “I have to visit the sperm bank this afternoon and pick one out.”

Gabe stared at her as if she had suddenly grown two heads. “You’re kidding, right?”

Maggie pretended a great deal more insouciance than she felt. “It’s either that or the old-fashioned way,” she said with a confident tilt of her head. “And since time is of the essence and I’m not currently even dating anyone…” She shrugged her slender shoulders and let her words trail off.

She could tell by the disapproving look on his face that Gabe was about to tell her what a mistake she was making. Fortunately, he had no chance to do so as they were joined by Maggie’s electrician, Enrico Chavez, his brother, master plumber Manuel Chavez, and her carpenter and cabinetmaker Luis Chavez. The three brothers were all in their fifties. They had worked for Maggie’s dad and mom for years, and now they worked for Maggie. Devout Catholics, family men, they were fiercely protective of her. They were also, after the sudden deaths of her parents the previous year, the only “family” Maggie had, and she treasured the way they looked out for her, just as she did her best to look out for the three Chavez brothers and their families.

“Hi, guys,” Maggie said, as she physically aligned herself with Gabe to better make introductions and talk to her crew. “This is Gabe Deveraux. He’s a critical care doc over at Charleston Hospital, and it’s his kitchen we’re going to be working on here.” Glad to have something else to talk about, Maggie finished the introductions and then explained briefly what was going to need to be done, once the new design was settled on, and when.

“What about the Hegameyer job?” Luis asked, concerned.

Realizing she was standing almost too close to Gabe, Maggie moved slightly away from his tall, strong frame. “The Hegameyers have generously agreed to wait another four months.”

“How’d you get them to agree to that?” Manuel asked, dark brow furrowing.

“I promised to cut fifty percent off their labor costs. Not to worry though,” Maggie added hastily, reading the worry on Enrico’s face, “Gabe here is going to pay us double time for labor for the entire project so we’ll still come out at least fifty percent ahead. I plan to split the additional profit four ways, so we’ll all come out better off.” Her parents had taught her the first rule of running a successful small business was to treat your employees as well as you treated yourself. She wanted them all to benefit.

“Sounds good to me,” Enrico said. Luis and Manuel nodded, too.

“Well, I need to get going,” Maggie said. Before Gabe could delay her further, she rushed down the steps to her own pickup truck.

“THIS IS ALL your fault, you know,” Manuel Chavez said the moment Maggie had driven off.

“What do you mean?” Gabe turned to the three men in surprise. Now that Maggie was gone, her employees seemed ready to string him up by his thumbs.

“If not for you,” Luis said practically, “Maggie would have been married to your brother two years ago, and probably would have already had a baby when her parents died last year. But because of your selfish actions, Maggie’s wedding to Chase did not happen. And now she’s in an emotional tailspin, without any family at all, and going against nature to have a child.”

“She told you about that?”

The Chavez brothers nodded. “We’re family to her.”

As much as Gabe was loathe to admit it, the three Chavez brothers had a right to be concerned. Two years ago, Maggie never would have considered what she was considering now, even if she had been facing infertility. Two years ago, she had known babies should be conceived in love, by two people who cared about each other, not by strangers in a science lab. “What do you want me to do?” Gabe asked gruffly, doubting Maggie would listen to him even if he did try to talk her out of getting pregnant this way.

Manuel’s dark eyes glittered in abject disapproval. “We want you to do whatever you have to do to make it right.”

“And keep Maggie from making a mistake she will regret the rest of her life,” Luis added, scowling.

Enrico crossed his burly arms in front of his chest. “We’re going to be watching you. Because no way are we letting you hurt our Maggie again.”

That was just it, Gabe thought miserably. He didn’t want to hurt Maggie. Never had. But he—a guy who prided himself on helping people—had done so just the same. The question was, how could he make it right and get Maggie to come to her senses? The men who worked for her were correct—Gabe owed her that and more, for the havoc he’d created in her life.

Chapter Two

“What are you doing here?” Maggie asked in surprise as Gabe walked up to her in the crowded fertility clinic waiting room.

She made room for him and he sat down beside her, his expression as tense and serious as her own. “I thought you might want some help screening prospective donors,” he said.

Maggie wasn’t thrilled to be picking out a father for her baby at a sperm bank, but if she wanted to have a baby of her own, and she did, it was something that had to be done, before she lost her ability to have a child forever. She turned slightly so she could see the expression on Gabe’s face. Seating was tight, and her knee nudged his in the process. “Does that mean you approve of what I’m doing?” She studied him warily.

Gabe shrugged his broad shoulders casually. “It’s not up to me to approve or disapprove,” he said quietly. “It’s your decision. I’m just here to support you in any way I can.”

His words certainly seemed sincere enough, Maggie thought. Nevertheless, her gut feeling told her that Gabe wasn’t any happier about her plan than anyone else who knew about it. Everyone thought she should wait. Give love and the prospect of marriage another try. Unfortunately, Maggie sighed to herself, it wasn’t that easy finding a man she was attracted to physically, emotionally and intellectually. In fact, to date, there had only been one man who had caught her attention in all three ways, and that had been Gabe.

Not that it mattered, since Gabe’s attention span when it came to women was notoriously short. According to those who knew him, Gabe hadn’t dated any women for longer than a few weeks, if that, since high school. These days, he got involved with women—like Penny Stringfield—who needed help. Which he selflessly gave. When they were okay again, he moved on to the next damsel in distress.

Maggie had been one of those damsels in distress once, just prior to her wedding to Chase. She’d been having a lot of doubts leading up to the wedding that wasn’t. But only Gabe had seen those qualms for what they really were—the gut-wrenching realization that she couldn’t marry Chase because she didn’t really love Chase any more than Chase really loved her.

She just hadn’t known how to tell everyone that, including—and especially—Chase.

Had Gabe not seen her conundrum and stepped in to her rescue, encouraging her to speak what was in her heart and mind and then act on it, well…Maggie might well have married—and eventually been divorced from—his brother. Or at least she might have made it all the way down the aisle before coming to her senses and bolting.

But Gabe had come to her rescue.

And stood by her during all the social and family hubbub afterward, even going so far as to date her—twice—before deciding that that wasn’t such a good idea after all.

Maggie had been deeply disappointed—for by then she had developed quite a crush on Gabe—but she had known, intellectually anyway, that Gabe was right. His brother Chase had been humiliated enough by Maggie’s actions, without Gabe and Maggie making the situation worse by dating. Or even being friends.

So, for the next two years, they had pretty much steered clear of each other, seeing each other only occasionally and by accident. Until the afternoon almost a month ago when Maggie had realized her increasingly severe physical symptoms were not going to go away, and that she had to do something about her physical problem fast. So she had called Gabe, and instead of returning her phone call, he had dropped by her beach house in person to hear her dilemma and offer his professional medical advice. One thing had led to another. The next thing she had known, she had been weeping in his arms, and then they were kissing. Nearly three weeks later, Maggie was still thinking about that breathtaking kiss. For no one—no one—had ever made her feel like that. Nor did she think anyone else ever would. Which was, bottom line, exactly what had brought her to the decision she had made. She wasn’t going to marry anyone if she didn’t love him the way she should. And the only person she could envision ever falling in love with was Gabe Deveraux.

Unfortunately, Gabe did not feel the same.

Although he had recently professed a desire to date her again, she suspected that his urge was grounded in her recent troubles and would fade as soon as she landed on her feet. Then, as always, he would be off to rescue the next damsel in distress that came his way.

Maggie had been dumped by Gabe once, albeit for the noblest of reasons—his brother’s feelings, and Deveraux family unity. She wasn’t setting herself up to get dumped again.

Not that Gabe realized, even subliminally, that’s what he was doing. No, she was pretty sure he just looked at each problem—or damsel—as they came into his life, and then acted from his heart, without even thinking about the future. But it was the future, and her baby’s future, that Maggie was concerned with now. And in that sense, she knew, Gabe could assist her, the same way he had recently assisted her in finding a specialist to diagnose her medical problems.

“Well, I could use your medical knowledge,” Maggie reluctantly conceded, after a moment.

Gabe looked satisfied. “Then let’s go through the books together,” he said.

A few minutes later, they were in a cozy room, with a round table and two chairs. They sat shoulder to shoulder, elbows on the table, as they pored over each page. “Here’s a good one,” Maggie said. “The guy is six-four, 220 pounds, with blond hair and blue eyes.”

“He also has a history of arthritis in his extended family,” Gabe pointed out.

“Okay, what about this one?” Maggie moved on to the next possibility. “Five-eleven, brown hair, green eyes. College-educated.”

“He has an aunt on his mother’s side who died of breast cancer.”

Maggie threw her hands up in exasperation. “Well, everyone is going to have relatives who died of something!”

Gabe leaned back in his chair and folded his arms against his chest. “It would be different if you were talking about marrying someone you were in love with,” he explained patiently. “Of course then you would just take your chances and hope for the best. But since you are doing this methodically and you do have a choice, you want to steer away from anyone who has a history of illnesses that can be inherited.”

“Fine.” Maggie flipped through more pages, wishing she could disagree with him, knowing she couldn’t, because everything he said made too much sense. Eventually, she sighed, leaned back and said, “How do we even know these people are being truthful, anyway?”

“Beats me.” Gabe shrugged his broad shoulders restively as his gaze meshed with hers. “I suppose you’re taking it on faith that they fill out the forms accurately. I mean, as conscientious as the people here at the fertility clinic are, they can’t personally look into the family health backgrounds of each donor.”

“There would be privacy concerns—”

“As well as prohibitive costs.”

“So there could be things that aren’t on the list,” Maggie theorized, worried.

“Probably,” Gabe agreed seriously. “Either because a candidate doesn’t know about a relative’s medical history. Or because he feels he would be disqualified from being a donor if the truth were known.”

Maggie swallowed as the implications of that sank in, beginning to feel a little sick at the idea that she might be trying to bring a child into the world who was destined—because of heredity—to suffer from some terrible disease. “You’re not making me feel any better here, Gabe,” she said.

Gabe refused to back down, despite her nervousness. “You brought it up. Besides,” he regarded her steadily, “I thought you wanted me here to assess the situation—medically speaking.”

Actually, Maggie thought, she hadn’t wanted him here at all, because his presence was making her have doubts. And yet, because of the seriousness of the situation, she couldn’t ignore what he was saying, either. Not when the fate of her as-yet-to-be-conceived child hung in the balance.

The nurse knocked and popped her head in. “Settle on one yet?” she asked with a smile.

“No,” Maggie said.

“Not even close,” Gabe added.

“Well, that’s too bad,” the nurse said, glancing at her watch. “Because we were supposed to close up five minutes ago. I hate to ask you to come back, but—my son is playing in a soccer game at five-thirty and I’m in a hurry to close up.”

“No problem,” Gabe said, already rising.

Easy for you to say, Maggie thought darkly, as she closed the book and stood.

“You can make another appointment on the way out,” the nurse hastened to add.

With Gabe watching her, Maggie did.

They walked out into the parking lot. “Where to now?” Gabe asked casually, looking once again as if he were about to ask her out on another date.

Deciding that that was the last thing they needed after the unsatisfactory appointment she had just suffered through, Maggie focused on her old standby: her work. “I don’t know about you,” Maggie said with a smile, “but I’m going out to your beach house. I want to see how the debris removal is coming.”

Gabe followed her in his sports car. It was nearly six by the time they arrived. Luis, Manuel and Enrico had already knocked off for the day. But their work was complete. All the burned material and the damaged cabinets had been torn out. The kitchen was ready for rebuilding.

“It looks like they even took out all the wiring,” Gabe said.

Maggie propped both hands on her hips as she continued to look around. “They have to, for safety’s sake.” She slanted Gabe a glance over her shoulder. “I assume you want everything built back pretty much the way it was.”

Gabe strolled the length of the downstairs, stroking the rugged line of his jaw, with the backs of his fingers as he moved. “Actually I thought I’d like to take the opportunity to tear down the wall between the kitchen and the living room and just open it up.”

That was a pretty expensive and time-consuming change, more than Maggie had bargained on. She frowned. “It’ll take a lot longer and be a lot more expensive,” Maggie warned, hoping he’d change his mind.

No such luck.

Gabe drifted near. “I don’t mind,” he told her lazily, studying her upturned face.

“Spending time with me?” Maggie tilted her head back and sized him up with a considering look of her own, wondering what the ultimate Good Samaritan was up to now. Had he planned this extra request, or was he just winging it, asking to make things much more complicated, on a whim? “Or the extra construction mess?”

“Both,” Gabe said curtly.

Maggie fell silent as she studied the half-hidden apology in his eyes.

She turned away from him, trying not to think about how handsome he looked in his sage-green shirt, coordinating tie and khaki slacks. “You don’t owe me anything, Gabe.” Least of all this.

“Maybe I think I do.”

Maggie turned back in time to see the flicker of guilt in Gabe’s expression. It didn’t take a genius to know where it had originated. “You’ve been talking to Enrico, Luis and Manuel, haven’t you?” She had known better than to leave the four men alone. Especially since the three Chavez brothers had never forgiven Gabe for his part in her breakup with Chase.

Gabe shrugged, obviously respecting her too much to try and tell her otherwise. “The guys are right,” he said quietly. “If not for me, you would be married and have a baby by now.”

Maggie rolled her eyes and thrust her hands in the pockets of her jeans. “They’re hopelessly overprotective of me. They always have been, and it’s gotten worse since my mom and dad died.”

“They want you to have it all.” Gabe closed the distance between them in three long strides. “Not just a child.”

Maggie studied the scuffed toes of her dark-brown work boots. “Suppose that’s not possible?”

“Suppose it is?” Gabe put his hands on her shoulders and kept them there. “At least take another few days to think about this.”

Heart racing, mouth dry, Maggie looked up at him. “I can’t,” she said, doing her best not to tremble at his touch.

“Why not?” Gabe asked, so gently she wanted to cry.

Maggie drew a deep breath, extricated herself gracefully from his light, detaining grip and wheeled away. “Because my monthly ovulation window is in three to five days,” she told him grimly as she paced back and forth. “And, given the fact my endometriosis has already made me damn near infertile and I may not conceive on the first try, I can’t afford to waste any time.”

Gabe’s eyes darkened with emotion. “I understand all that,” he told her quietly.

Maggie squared off with him contentiously. “But?”

“I still don’t like the idea of you using an anonymous donor.”

“Why not?” At his firm insistence, it was all Maggie could do not to clench her teeth.

“Because I think you should know your baby’s father.”

So did Maggie, if the truth be known. But that wasn’t possible, either, she thought. Furthermore, Gabe should know it, too, instead of pretending otherwise. She shook her head and asked wryly, “And what guy would say yes to a request like that?”

Gabe angled a thumb at his chest. “Me.”

FOR A MOMENT, both of them were silent, Gabe every bit as speechless and stunned by his impetuous offer as Maggie looked. Finally, she pulled herself together, shoved a hand through her wavy hair and regaled him with the fiery Irish temperament she had inherited from her dad. “Look, Gabe, I think it’s great that you are the Good Samaritan of Charleston, South Carolina, always volunteering to help women out, but this is just too much!”

Gabe drank in the husky vehemence of her voice and the bloom of new color in her fair cheeks, as a car pulled up outside. “So you won’t even consider it?” He was stunned by the intensity of his disappointment. Since when had he considered fatherhood? he wondered in shocked amazement. Never mind with a woman who generally speaking wouldn’t give him the time of day! And yet, the thought of Maggie having a baby with someone else—anyone else—even someone anonymous who meant nothing at all to her was even worse. Gabe couldn’t say why he felt the way he did, he just knew he didn’t want Maggie Callaway to be having anyone’s baby but his. End of story.

“For you to be the sperm donor of my baby?” Maggie gaped at Gabe, as a younger woman got out of the car and made her way toward the house. “I hardly think so!” she said vehemently.

“I have to tell you,” Daisy Templeton said, as she strolled casually in to join them. “But I have to go with Maggie there. Having a baby via artificial insemination is not the way to go.”

Not the opinion Gabe would’ve expected from Charleston society’s wild child and most sought after new photographer. The twenty-three-year-old heiress had been kicked out of seven colleges in five years. Now, Daisy was telling everyone she had no intention of ever going back, and was instead going to devote herself to becoming a professional photographer. Fortunately for the spirited and beautiful young heiress, she had the talent, if perhaps not the discipline, to make her boast a reality, Gabe thought.

“As it happens,” Maggie said stiffly, turning to face Daisy, “in my opinion, artificial insemination of donor sperm is exactly the way to go.”

Daisy raised her pale blond brows in inquiry, looked at Gabe, then Maggie. “Are you planning to tell the baby who his or her father is?” she asked Maggie carefully.

Maggie shrugged and looked, Gabe noted, even more defensive in light of Daisy’s disapproval. “Probably not,” Maggie said.

Daisy popped her gum and got her camera out of the case. “Big mistake,” Daisy said, shooting Maggie a sober glance. “And I mean gargantuan. I should know because I’m adopted.”

That stopped Maggie in her tracks, Gabe noted.

“You have no idea who your parents are?” Maggie asked.

Daisy shrugged as she set up to take the Before pictures for Chase’s magazine, Modern Man. “No, I don’t,” Daisy admitted with a troubled look, as she loaded film into her camera, “although I’m working on finding that out.”

“It was a problem for you?” Maggie asked.

“More than that,” Daisy admitted as she got down on one knee to photograph the burned-out shell of the kitchen. “It was a never-ending source of shame and mystery, frustration and unhappiness.”

This surprised Gabe.

“Why?” Gabe asked, brow furrowing as he struggled to understand. Daisy had been adopted by one of Charleston’s wealthiest families and had grown up in a privileged home.

Daisy bit her lower lip and looked even more distressed as she related, “Because there had to be some reason for my parents to give me up. And I wondered why my parents abandoned me. My birth mother obviously wanted to carry me to term, but what about my birth father? Why did he walk out on my birth mother or even allow my birth mother to give me up for adoption? I’ve always wondered why my father didn’t love me. And just who the heck is he, anyway? Was he some terrible person or just plain selfish? Did he even know about me? Did my birth mother tell him she was pregnant or did she have me and give me up in secret?”

Good questions, Gabe thought. And ones he had no answers for.

“She must have loved you if she gave you up for adoption,” Maggie said gently, doing her best to comfort Daisy.

“I’ve always told myself that was the case,” Daisy said sadly, as she got slowly to her feet and walked to the opposite side of the room, to shoot photos from another angle. “But deep down I wonder if it’s true,” Daisy continued sadly, “if my birth mother ever really cared about me at all. The bottom line here is that it’s a terrible thing for a child to have to grow up knowing that there’s something weird or different or secret about the circumstances of his or her birth. And if you have a choice, as you two clearly do now, you shouldn’t do anything to bring a child into the world that you wouldn’t want the child eventually to know about.”

“I HAD NO IDEA Daisy was that deep,” Gabe mused, after Daisy Templeton had finished taking her photos and driven off once again.

“I didn’t either,” Maggie said. She sat down on the steps looking out over the ocean and glumly plucked at the stone-washed fabric of her jeans. “As much as I hate to admit it, she had a point. I mean, how is my baby going to feel when he’s old enough to learn his birth father is just a stranger from a sperm bank?”

Gabe sighed as he walked over and settled beside her on the steps. “Probably not very good,” he said, trying hard not to think about the way her yellow shirt molded the soft, sexy curves of her breasts.

She brought her legs up and wrapped her arms around her bent legs. Resting her head on her knees, she turned her face to look at him and said in a low voice laced with remorse, “I’m not sure that it would be any better to accept a sperm donation from you as a friend, either, though.”

Gabe was silent. Thinking Maggie needed more comfort than she realized, he curved his arm around her shoulders and returned, just as soberly, “I’d hate it if our kid were embarrassed at how he or she had come into this world, or at me or you for our parts in it.”

Maggie drew a deep breath and slowly let it out. “And now that I think about it, I can’t see a child who was old enough to understand the clinical procedure involved in artificial insemination thinking of our decision to procreate with anything but embarrassment and loathing,” Maggie said.

Gabe nodded and admitted just as freely, “The last thing a kid wants is to be different from everybody else. It’s one thing when there’s no helping it. But when you can help it….” He stopped, shook his head at the emotion welling up inside him. “Daisy’s right,” he concurred in a low, choked voice as he looked deep into Maggie’s light-green eyes. “It isn’t fair.”

“So what am I going to do?” Maggie asked unhappily, burying her face in her hands.

Gabe, in an attempt to comfort her, rubbed some of the tension from her slender shoulders. “You could always go the conventional route and get married,” he said as he massaged his way down her spine.

Maggie bounded to her feet and dashed the rest of the way down the steps. She shoved both hands in the pockets of her jeans and stared at the constantly shifting ocean. Her lips set in a stubborn pout. “I can’t marry someone just because he lusts after me.” She turned and shot him an angry look over her shoulder. “I almost did that with your brother Chase and look what happened.”

Without warning, jealousy stabbed his heart. Gabe swallowed, stood, and followed her down to the bottom of the steps. “Was that what was between the two of you?” he asked, squaring off with her and finding he really needed—wanted—to know. “Lust?”

At his bluntness, Maggie’s cheeks flooded with embarrassed color. She turned her eyes away evasively, kicked at the sand with the toe of her work boot. “Let’s just say your older brother knows how to court a woman aggressively,” she said gruffly. “And there isn’t a woman on this earth who doesn’t want to be hotly pursued.”

Was that where he’d made his big mistake? Not pursuing Maggie aggressively enough?

Suddenly, Gabe knew he couldn’t let Maggie get away again. Not when her biological clock was ticking, and she wanted a baby. “Look, this doesn’t have to be this complicated,” he said urgently, wishing like heck she weren’t behaving in a way that made her vulnerable. And whether Maggie realized it or not, her actions were putting her in a place where she was very much at risk of being hurt or taken advantage of. Now, later, it didn’t really matter. All he knew was that he was determined not to see that happen.

Maggie lifted her brow. “It doesn’t?”

“No, it doesn’t,” Gabe said firmly, as the solution to her problem quickly became evident to him. “Because I’ll marry you and give you the baby you want via artificial insemination.” In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he knew it was the right path to take.

Maggie blinked at him in surprise. “Why would you do that?” she demanded hoarsely, as all the color drained from her face.

“Because Daisy’s right.” Afraid she was going to bolt if he didn’t hang on to her, Gabe took both her hands in his. Wanting her to know how serious he was, he looked deep into her eyes. “If you are going to do this, you should go about it the right and proper way. And I want to help you.” More than he had ever wanted to help anyone in his life!

“But we don’t love each other,” Maggie protested, twin spots of delicate pink color staining her cheeks.

Gabe shrugged off her worries. “That doesn’t really matter, given the way you’re going to get pregnant,” he said, finding the idea of her having artificial insemination was not nearly as repugnant to him if it was with his sperm. “What will matter,” Gabe emphasized bluntly now that he had her full attention, “is that we will be officially married when you are getting pregnant and having the baby.”

Maggie took a half step back but then gripped his hands all the tighter. “And then what?” she demanded in a soft, wary voice that sent shivers across his skin.

“When the time is right, later,” Gabe soothed, knowing it was the only practical solution as well as what Maggie wanted to hear, “we’ll divorce.”

Maggie looked even more amazed. “And you think it’s a workable plan?”

Gabe nodded confidently. “The most workable one so far.” He leaned toward her urgently, not stopping until he was close enough to inhale the intoxicating hyacinth fragrance of her skin. “Think about it, Maggie. This way our baby will know who both his or her parents are. I only have one stipulation.”

“And that is—?” The hesitation in her eyes was back.

“That I be allowed to be the baby’s father while he or she is growing up and that the baby be brought up as a Deveraux as well as a Callaway,” Gabe said firmly, knowing he was right about this. “Because every baby deserves both a father and a mother and if possible a loving extended family.”

Maggie swallowed. “Well, I can’t give my baby that on my own, so…all right,” she conceded eventually. “I’ll do this your way.”

Silence fell between them once again. Maggie furrowed her brow.

“What?” Gabe prodded.

Maggie frowned, stepped back, let go of his hands. “I can’t help but think that your family is not likely to approve of this plan of ours,” she said worriedly. “Nor are those close to me.”

Wishing he could just forget the clinical approach and make love to her, and impregnate her with his seed that way, Gabe shrugged off her concerns. He knew they could work out whatever problems came up. The important thing was that Maggie not go off half-cocked and have some stranger’s baby, and then spend the rest of her life—and her baby’s, too—regretting it. “They don’t even have to know the details,” Gabe argued resolutely. “We’ll tell them that you’re pregnant later, after we’ve already been secretly married for a few months. That way,” he reasoned, “we’ll likely get a lot less grief, since people are less inclined to weigh in about a fait accompli.”

“All right,” Maggie said tremulously. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed in deeply and then released an enormous sigh of relief. “I agree.” She shot him a stern, warning glance. “But with my ovulation window ready to hit by the end of the week, we don’t have much time.”

Chapter Three

“You may kiss the bride,” the Sunset Beach justice of the peace said, as soon as Gabe and Maggie had finished their vows.

Gabe turned to Maggie. She was wearing a simple white cotton dress that left her shoulders bare and ended just above her knees, and made her look both surprisingly fragile and very beautiful. At the insistence of the couple presiding over their wedding vows, she had tucked a white rose into her wavy honey-blond hair in lieu of a veil or hat. The overall affect was simple and understated—she made a very lovely bride.

They had decided to get married out on the beach, next to the ocean, rather than inside, in the intimate little chapel, but Gabe wasn’t sure this was much better. He still felt as if they were married as he leaned forward, looked into her light-green eyes, and delivered a light, gentle kiss to her cheek, even though he knew that in spirit they definitely were not. That this was just a formality done for propriety and their child’s sake.

Maggie smiled, stepped back and, looking as eager to end the event as he, thanked the young couple for fitting them in on such short notice. Still clutching the bouquet of silk flowers that had come with the Basic Wedding Package she headed with Gabe to the car.

“Want to have dinner on the way home?” Gabe asked, as they trudged through the sandy dunes and blowing sea grass that separated the ocean from the wedding chapel parking lot.

Maggie’s forehead creased as she glanced at her watch. “Maybe we just could hit a drive-through on the way and grab some sandwiches,” she suggested instead, “since we have a two-hour drive ahead of us back to Charleston.”

“Okay,” Gabe did his best to curtail his disappointment as he held her door and watched her settle gracefully into the passenger seat of his sports car.

He supposed that was what he got for having agreed to get married in North Carolina, instead of the state in which they lived. But given the fact that South Carolina had a twenty-four-hour waiting period—and North Carolina had none—and they didn’t want anyone besides themselves to know about their hasty wedding just yet, there had really been no alternative. To get married before her monthly ovulation window opened, and/or one of them changed their mind, they’d had to drive north to the quaint little coastal community, apply for a wedding license before the county records office closed for the day and then find a chapel to fit them in before they drove back.

Now, the deed done, the plain gold wedding bands on their fingers, they were officially man and wife.

MARRIED, Maggie thought, as she took off the plain gold band and dropped it into the zipper compartment in her purse. She was married to Gabe Deveraux.

In name only, of course.

But still, she thought as she rubbed the place on her finger where the wedding band had been, she was no longer the free woman she had been just a few hours ago.

Nor was she really his wife.

They were just…friends.

Casual friends, she reminded herself fiercely, who were going to have a baby together as soon as they could get her pregnant the newfangled way. All that would involve would be plastic cups and syringes and hospital gowns and feet in stirrups.

There would be no champagne, no roses, no romantic dinners for two. So why, she wondered, as Gabe turned his car into a fast-food restaurant with a drive-through lane, were her palms all sweaty and her heart in an uproar? It wasn’t as if the vows they had just said meant anything. Noticing she had taken her ring off, Gabe removed his wedding band, too, and shoved it in the pocket of his starched white dress shirt.

Abruptly looking as if he felt as uncomfortable and ill at ease as she did sitting side by side in his small sports car, Gabe held the wheel with one hand and loosened his navy and khaki tie and undid the top button on his shirt with his other. He braked as they reached the microphone, then turned to her, a bit impatiently. “What would you like?”

Maggie scanned the menu and tried not to think how awkward this all was. Neither of them had been nearly this tense on the way to get married. “I’ll have a chicken sandwich, fries and a lemonade,” she said quietly.

Gabe ordered that for her, and a burger meal for himself.

As he drove around to the first window, Maggie reached for her purse.

Gabe held up a hand before she could get out her wallet. “I’ve got it,” he stated firmly as he pulled cash out of the pocket of his khaki trousers. Two minutes later he turned back onto Route 17. “Open mine for me, would you, please?” he said.

Grateful for something to do besides look at Gabe and notice how handsome he was, Maggie flipped open the box, then looked at the thickness of the sandwich inside. Two patties, two slices of cheese, lettuce, pickles, onions and catsup.

Gabe caught her frown and glanced down. “Probably not the smartest thing to be eating while I’m driving, is it?” he observed with a beleaguered sigh.

Maggie shrugged, knowing it didn’t have to be a problem if they didn’t want it to be. “We could stop,” she suggested.

“No.” Gabe’s jaw was set. “I can do it. Just hand it to me, would you?”

Maggie knew a man with his mind made up when she saw one. Her father had often had that very look on his face when he’d made a bad decision and decided to soldier through and stick to it nevertheless. “Okay,” she said, just as agreeably. She picked the sandwich out of its little brown box.

“Just squish it together some so it’s a little flatter,” Gabe directed.

Maggie kept her skepticism to herself and did as directed. “I don’t know about this,” she hedged. The sandwich looked and smelled delicious, but the eating of it threatened to be awfully messy.

“It’ll be fine,” Gabe said, taking the sandwich.

One bite later, the first glob of catsup hit his thigh.

“Don’t worry about it,” Gabe said stubbornly, as he continued to eat and drive.

“Okay,” Maggie said, wondering what it was about men in general that made them have to do things their way, even if it was clearly the wrong way. “It’s your clothing. But at least let me put a napkin or two underneath.”

She opened one up all the way and, being very careful not to touch his thigh, laid it across the leg of his tailored khaki dress slacks. The napkin slid to the floor the next time he braked, along with the two bits of lettuce he had dropped.

Maggie put down her own sandwich long enough to add another napkin, but this one she tried to angle around his well-muscled thigh so it wouldn’t slide off. Unfortunately, that had her touching him, ever so slightly, for about two milliseconds. If one discounted the slight tensing of his facial muscles, he didn’t seem to mind.

In a rather moody silence, he finished his sandwich. She finished hers—a lot more neatly since she was able to use both hands. As they worked on their drinks and fries the silence continued to stretch out between them, and Maggie wished she had taken him up on his offer to have a quiet dinner together somewhere on the way back to Charleston, but it was too late for that. And meantime, it looked like that one glob of catsup was really sinking into the fabric of his trousers, despite Gabe’s half-hearted effort to dab it off with a crumpled napkin.

“You need some water on that stain,” Maggie said.

“Don’t have any,” Gabe said. Keeping his eyes firmly on the road, he pulled his tie even looser and unfastened another button on his shirt.

“I think I do.” Maggie rummaged in her purse and came up with a small bottle of water. She took an unused napkin, wet it, and was about to hand it over when Gabe frowned all the more.

“I really don’t want to mess with that, Maggie.”

Maggie eyed the spreading orange stain and warned right back. “If you don’t get it off before it dries, you could ruin those slacks.” She saw no reason to let his male pride be the cause of that.

“Then you do it,” he ordered with a disgruntled frown. “Otherwise, just let it be, and I’ll take it to the dry cleaners when I get home.”

And forever remember their wedding night as the night he also ruined a perfectly good pair of dress pants? Maggie didn’t think so.

Frowning too, she added a little more water to the napkin, leaned over and pressed the damp cloth to the orange stain on his trousers. Saw it dim somewhat, as she carefully dampened and blotted, and knew that one more good effort on her part would probably keep his pants from being ruined forever.

She was just about to take care of it when Gabe turned suddenly into a church’s vacant parking lot, brought his sports car to a quick stop, and caught her wrist in his hand. “Stop,” he commanded fiercely.

And looking down, Maggie saw why.

NOT EXACTLY the way he’d thought he would get aroused on his wedding night, Gabe thought. But here he was, with a hard-on to rival any he had ever had. And Maggie sitting beside him, looking as pale and stricken as any virgin bride about to be led to the bedchambers of a husband she barely knew.

Only they weren’t going to consummate their marriage.

Not the usual way.

And her touching him this way was only reminding him of that.

A riot of pink color flooding into her cheeks, Maggie snatched back her hand. “Oh, Gabe, I’m sorry,” she said in a low, trembling voice.

So was Gabe. Because now he knew, if he hadn’t before, just how much he desired her. And always had. Even as he saw how truly innocent she was at heart. She might have been engaged to his brother—the magazine editor and authority on modern men and their lives and desires and problems—but Maggie didn’t know a damn thing about him and his needs. And given the exceedingly stricken way she was staring at him, probably never would, Gabe thought, his spirits sinking even more.

“Forget it,” Gabe said, doing his best to mask his disappointment as he thrust his sports car back into gear and headed back onto the coastal highway.

“I never—”

“I said forget it!” Gabe commanded gruffly as two things happened simultaneously: the outskirts of Charleston came into view, and the cell phone on his dash began to ring.

Glad for the diversion, Gabe took the call, then turned to Maggie as soon as it ended. “I’ve got to go straight to the hospital,” he told her. “I don’t have time to drop you first.”

“No problem,” Maggie said. She offered him a stiff smile. “I can get a cab.”

“Or just come with me,” Gabe said on impulse, finding he wasn’t as anxious to have their time together end as he’d initially thought. “And see if you can help me find out who Jane Doe is, now that she’s awake and talking once again.”

TO MAGGIE’S RELIEF, Gabe’s mood brightened as he parked in the hospital lot and went from secret-new-husband mode to doctor. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything he could do about the drying stain on his slacks, but Gabe rebuttoned the top of his shirt, fixed his tie and slipped his navy sport coat back on. Determined to look as little like a bride as possible, Maggie removed the flower from her hair and tied the pale blue cardigan sweater she’d brought along just in case it got too cool in the car around her neck. Nevertheless, as she and Gabe made their way through the hospital corridors up to the fourth floor, Maggie caught a few curious glances from some of the nurses. She wasn’t sure whether they recognized her as the woman who had once been engaged to Chase Deveraux before getting briefly involved with Gabe, or simply thought she and Gabe were about to go out for the evening. But interest in them was high just the same. And it was speculation, Maggie thought to herself, as they entered the hospital room where Jane Doe was, she could well have done without. She didn’t want or need to know how quickly the people who worked with Gabe predicted his relationship with her would be over. Because everyone knew Gabe only hung around until the damsel in distress was no longer in trouble.

Gabe took Maggie’s elbow as they neared the room. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I’m really interested in your assessment of my patient,” he said.

Maggie tingled at the warmth of his breath against the side of her face. “I’m no expert.” She had no medical background whatsoever.

“But you’re a woman,” Gabe said, coming even closer. “And a very easy to talk to woman at that.” His eyes caressed her face. “I think our Jane Doe might really warm to you.”

Maggie had to admit she would like to help someone in need of assistance herself. She also noted immediately upon entering the corner room that the eighty-something patient was a lovely lady, even in a hospital-issue gown. Her long white hair had been caught in an elegant bun at the back of her neck. She had a delicate, aristocratic bone structure, a petite slender frame and exquisitely manicured hands that—Maggie was willing to bet—had never seen a dishpan or a toilet-bowl brush.

She was sitting up in bed, her faded sea-blue eyes open wide, her cheeks flushed with fever.

“He’s coming to get me, you know,” Jane Doe told Gabe and Maggie the moment they walked in the room.

“Who’s coming?” Gabe asked, as he took her chart off the holder on the wall next to the door.

Jane Doe smiled serenely and clasped her hands in front of her. “Why, my sweetheart, of course.”

“What’s his name?” Gabe asked gently, as he discreetly checked her chart.

“Oh, I can’t tell you that,” Jane Doe said vehemently, as Gabe set the chart down on the end of her hospital bed.

“Why not?” Maggie asked, moving to the opposite side of the bed, so she could be close to the woman and yet out of Gabe’s way.

“Because our love is very private,” she said seriously, as she looked up at Maggie. “And I wouldn’t want anything to happen to it. Besides, I don’t really think my mama and papa would approve if they knew what I was doing.”

Gabe took the stethoscope out of his pocket and put it in his ears. “How old are you?” Gabe asked, as he listened to the woman’s chest.

Jane Doe gave him a reproachful look as Gabe moved from her front to her back. “A lady never tells her age.”

Gabe listened to each of her lungs. “Do you know what day it is?”

“Saturday,” Jane Doe claimed triumphantly.

Maggie and Gabe exchanged worried glances over Jane Doe’s head. It was Tuesday.

“And the year?” Gabe persisted, as he put his stethoscope away and picked up her chart once again.

“I wish you people would stop asking me that,” Jane Doe complained, sighing loudly. “It’s 1938, of course.”

Gabe nodded agreeably and wrote something on her chart.

“Is my driver coming for me soon?”

Gabe looked up with a charming smile. “We’d love to call him for you, if you would just give us his number,” Gabe said.

“No.” Jane Doe clammed up again. “I can’t do that.”

“All right. You just rest now.” Gabe patted her arm. “And call the nurses if you need anything.”

“All right, doctor.” Jane Doe settled back against the pillows and closed her eyes.

“Is she okay?” Maggie asked as soon as she and Gabe slipped from the room.

Gabe frowned as he headed for the nurses’ station at the other end of the hall. “I don’t like the sound of her lungs. I’m going to order a chest X-ray. She might have pneumonia.”

Even Maggie had been able to tell Jane Doe was running a fever. “Would that make her confused?”

“It could. The combination of fever and illness can do that, especially to older people. I just wish we could find her family—they must be worried sick about her.”

Maggie nodded. “What are you going to do?”

“The only thing I can do,” Gabe sighed wearily. “Contact the media. I hope they’ll come out and do a story on her in time for the eleven o’clock news.”

“SO WHAT’S WRONG with this Jane Doe?” Lane Stringfield asked Gabe as the two of them met in the reception room of Gabe’s office some twenty minutes later. The local TV station manager had arrived ahead of his camera crew and reporter. And Gabe had an idea why. He hadn’t come for the story—Lane had staff to do that for him—he had come to talk to Gabe. Probably about his estranged wife.

“She definitely has a sprained ankle. She fell on the sidewalk in the historic district late last night. Someone on Gathering Street found her around four this morning. It looked as if she had been there for some time. She was confused and dehydrated, in considerable pain and shock—and she also seemed to be running a little fever, which may have been what caused her to lose her balance and fall in the first place. We were hoping a day in the hospital and a little sleep would make her lucid, but when she woke up a little while ago she was as confused as ever and has stayed that way. I was brought in to evaluate her. I think she may be developing pneumonia—I’ve ordered a chest X-ray and other tests to help us make the diagnosis.”

“Is she senile?” Lane Stringfield asked, still making notes on the small leatherbound pad he had taken out of his coat pocket.

“I don’t know,” Gabe said frankly. “It wouldn’t appear so. Usually senile patients aren’t nearly as well-groomed as this lovely lady is. Which makes me and the other doctors and nurses on staff think her confusion is something new. But to properly pinpoint the reason for her confusion we need to know who she is and what her medical history is. Which is where you come in. We simply want to run a brief picture of Jane Doe in her hospital bed and ask anyone with information about who she is to come forward.”

“I gather you’ve already talked to the residents on Gathering Street.”

“The police have,” Gabe affirmed seriously. “No one in the neighborhood knows her.”

“All right. I’ll instruct my crew as soon as they get here and supervise the filming of the story. In the meantime, as long as we have a few moments,” Lane continued, looking straight at Gabe. “I want you to tell me what’s going on with my wife.”

MAGGIE HAD BEEN SITTING quietly waiting for Gabe to be able to take her home until this point, but now she figured she really ought to be going. Not wanting to witness what might be a very delicate and/or embarrassing conversation between the two men, she rose to her feet. Gabe grabbed her hand and tugged her back down beside him on the tweed sofa. “You can stay for this,” he said firmly, still holding onto her hand.

Suppose I don’t want to stay, Maggie thought rebelliously. But given the grip he had on her, she knew she wouldn’t get out of there without a tussle, and there was no reason to indulge in anything that undignified.

“Why was my wife at your beach house Sunday night?” Lane demanded, point-blank, the time for niceties and business obviously over.

Gabe shrugged and looked at Lane as if Penny’s presence in Gabe’s house overnight were nothing for her husband to be concerned about. “She came over to talk to me.”

“With a suitcase in tow,” Lane pointed out unhappily.

Gabe spread his hands wide. “She didn’t plan to spend the night there. She was going to go to a hotel. But then I got called back to the hospital. She was having trouble finding a hotel room—this being the height of the spring tourist season—so I said she could just stay there.”

Lane’s dark eyes narrowed. “Are the two of you having an affair?”

“No. In fact, I tried to get her to stay with you, or at least not to do anything rash.”

“And?” Briefly, Lane looked hopeful.

Gabe frowned, perplexed. “And all I know is that she got a phone call here at the hospital on Sunday afternoon that seemed to upset her terribly. I saw her crying and asked her if everything was all right, but she didn’t want to talk about it. The next thing I knew she showed up on my doorstep, and she told me she had just left you.” He paused, looked directly at Lane. “I guess I just assumed if someone was having an affair, it was you.”

“No.” Lane sighed, looking even more troubled and distressed.

“Then what could have happened?” Gabe asked in shared concern. “Who could have called her at the hospital and upset her so much she started to cry?”

And what, Maggie wondered, could that person have said to Penny that would have caused Penny to pack a bag and walk out on her husband?

Lane shrugged. His broad shoulders slumped in defeat. “I don’t know what’s going on with her the past couple of days,” Lane confessed emotionally. He looked at both Maggie and Gabe plaintively. “I mean, I know she’s been really sad about not being able to have a baby, and that infertility can make a woman whose biological clock is already ticking kind of crazy. But I’ve told her that I love her, that I’d be willing to adopt, or have a baby via test tube or whatever she wants.”

“Maybe you should do that again, then,” Gabe said, just as earnestly. “Maybe she’s just trying to be selfless in leaving you.”

“Maybe.” Lane stood. “Thanks. Both for the story tonight, and being a friend to me and Penny.”

“Any time,” Gabe said.

Lane Stringfield paused at the door, turned back to Gabe. “Listen, I’ve heard your mom is in town again—apparently for good.”

“Right.”

Lane forged on hopefully. “Any chance she’d consider hosting a local television show now that she’s left the network?”

Gabe shrugged. “I don’t know. I gave up trying to predict what my mother would or wouldn’t do a long time ago. You’ll have to ask her.”

“Will do,” Lane promised.

Lane left and Gabe turned back to Maggie.

Funny, Maggie thought. She’d thought she had a very good idea who Gabe was—the incessantly selfless Good Samaritan who busied himself helping one person after another. Now, having seen a flash of melancholy and pessimism in his personality as he talked with Lane, she wasn’t certain she knew him at all. She studied him openly. “The fact that the Stringfields might divorce really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah—maybe because I just never saw it coming for the two of them. They’ve been married for five years now. I’ve known Penny for just slightly longer. I attended their wedding and have been friends to both of them, and really feel they belong together.”

“Then…?” Maggie asked, confused.

Gabe shrugged. “I can’t explain Penny’s behavior any more than Lane can,” he told Maggie bluntly. “All I know for certain is that my own parents separated abruptly without any explanation and then ended up getting divorced. I don’t want to see the same thing happen to Penny and Lane, because I think they’d end up regretting it the same way my parents have.”

“And yet,” Maggie observed quietly, “you took Penny in Sunday night, knowing how it would probably look to Lane and everyone else.”

A muscle worked in Gabe’s cheek. He looked at Maggie, clearly resenting the implication. “She’s a friend. She showed up on my doorstep crying hysterically and telling me her marriage to Lane was over. What was I to do? Throw her out?”

If that would’ve saved her marriage, Maggie thought, yes, that is exactly what you should have done, Gabe. But out loud, she said only, in a clear, polite tone, “You could have called Lane and heard his side of the story or let him know how upset his wife was and asked him to come over and talk things out with her.”

Gabe scowled. “I didn’t want to make things any worse. And from the way Penny was acting, I thought Lane might have been cheating on her,” he admitted unhappily.

“But you don’t think so now,” Maggie guessed.

“No.” Gabe studied Maggie carefully, obviously wanting her opinion. “Do you?”

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