“Marry me, Stevie.”

What did he just say?

“We can give this child the type of home and family you and I both wanted,” he said. “You’ll get the help you need, and I’ll get to be a dad.”

She always acted on impulse, followed her hunches. Every one of those usual prompts urged her now to accept Cole’s offer.

It wasn’t the hearts-and-flowers-and-violins proposal she’d imagined, but she was a mother now. And if she was honest, Cole ticked every item on the list of attributes she’d want for her child’s father. He was stable, dependable, practical. So…

“Yes.”

He went still. Yes?”

“Yes,” she repeated.

“Great! We’ll make this work, Stevie. I promise.” He turned to go, then stopped.

“That was a lousy way to conclude a proposal, wasn’t it?” he asked. “I can do better.” Then he gathered her into his arms and gave her a kiss.

How could she have known the quiet analyst next door kissed like a dashing pirate?

And that she was nearly leveled by, of all men, her neighbor, friend…and soon-to-be convenient husband?

* * *

PROPOSALS & PROMISES: Putting a ring on it is only the beginning!

The Bachelor’s
Little Bonus
Gina Wilkins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Author of more than one hundred titles for Mills & Boon, native Arkansan GINA WILKINS was introduced early to romance novels by her avid-reader mother. Gina loves sharing her own stories with readers who enjoy books celebrating families and romance. She is inspired daily by her husband of over thirty years, their two daughters and their son, their librarian son-in-law who fit perfectly into this fiction-loving family, and an adorable grandson who already loves books.

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For my family—immediate, extended and family of the heart. You have all enriched my life beyond measure.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Returning home from a mundane business trip, Cole McKellar stepped out of a dreary February evening and into a scene from one of his increasingly recurrent fantasies: A pretty blonde asleep on his oversized brown leather sofa.

The sight aroused and disturbed him—the same reaction he usually had to those unbidden daydreams. He squeezed his eyes shut, but when he opened them the blonde in question was still there. What was wrong with him? He shouldn’t be having these feelings about Stevie, especially when she viewed him merely as a neighbor and a friend. And yet...

Illuminated by the lamp on the table nearest her head, she lay on her left side, her hand beneath her cheek, her jeans-covered legs drawn up in front of her. Her shoes were on the floor, leaving her feet exposed in bright red socks that matched her sweater. Golden curls tumbled around her sleep-flushed face, and her soft, full lips were slightly parted. Long lashes lay against her fair cheeks, hiding eyes he knew to be a vivid blue. Notably colorful and feminine in contrast to his muted bachelor decor, she looked young and vulnerable lying there, though he knew Stevie McLane to be a capable and accomplished thirty-one year old, only two years his junior.

Dusty, his little gray tabby, snuggled into the crook of Stevie’s arm. In response to Cole’s arrival, the cat lifted her head and gave him a look as though warning him not to disturb their sleeping guest. He frowned and studied Stevie more closely. Was there a trace of tears on her face? Had she been crying?

Gripping his overnight bag tightly in one hand, his computer case in the other, he shifted his weight uncomfortably, unsure what to do. Should he wake her? Should he let her sleep? He couldn’t just stand here watching her. It was sort of...creepy.

Dusty stood and stretched. Roused by the movement, Stevie blinked her eyes open. Finding Cole standing there, she gasped.

The last thing he’d wanted to do was frighten her. “I’m sorry, Stevie, I—”

“Cole! I didn’t—”

Both stopped talking to let the other speak, then hurried again to fill the awkward silence.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“I thought you—”

Cole held up a hand with a rueful smile when their words overlapped again. “I’ll start. I’m sorry I startled you. I didn’t know you were here. Now your turn.”

On her feet now, his next-door neighbor pushed back her tumbled hair with both hands and smiled up at him. Though just over average height himself, he still felt as though he towered over Stevie, who topped out at about five-two in her red-stockinged feet. “I thought you weren’t going to be home until tomorrow,” she said.

“I rescheduled my flight because of the weather. I didn’t want to get stuck in Dallas for an extra day or two, especially since I have to be in Chicago a few days next week.”

“And now you must be tired.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, you weren’t expecting to find uninvited company in your house.”

She had no idea just what a welcome surprise that had been, nor would he fully enlighten her. When it came to Stevie, he’d gotten pretty good at concealing his feelings during the past year. “Usually when I come home, the house is empty except for Dusty, and she likes to play it cool with her royal greetings. It’s a pleasant change to be welcomed with a smile.”

He’d answered lightly while studying her suspiciously puffy eyelids. Would it be intrusive to mention his impression that she’d been crying? He settled for what he hoped was a vaguely concerned tone. “Is everything okay?”

She wiped nonchalantly at her cheeks, as if smoothing away the effects of sleep rather than any hint of tears. “Oh, sure. It was just too quiet at my house tonight, so Dusty and I were keeping each other company. I guess I fell asleep.”

His cat had climbed on the arm of the couch and now demanded a greeting from him. Cole reached down to rub the tabby’s soft, pointed ears. “Did you give Stevie your sad-eyes act to keep her from leaving after she fed you? I bet you added a few of those pitiful meows you’ve perfected.”

Stevie wrinkled her nose with a little laugh. “I’m pretty sure she even threw in a couple of forlorn sniffles.”

He ran a hand absently down Dusty’s back, stopping to scratch at the base of the tail, a spot that always made his pet arch blissfully. “She’s shameless.”

“Yes, she is,” Stevie agreed, giving the tabby a fond smile.

Cole claimed occasionally that he’d bought the cat with the house. He’d lived here only a couple weeks when a pathetic kitten had appeared on his doorstep out of a winter rainstorm, wet and hungry and miserable. Hearing the meows, he’d opened the door to investigate and the little stray had darted past him into the living room. Other than visits to the vet, she hadn’t been outside since.

He’d planned initially to find a good home for the stray, but somehow she’d ended up staying. He and Dusty, who was named for her habit of emerging from under furniture with dust bunnies on her nose, got along like a couple of contented hermits. Still, it was always a treat for them when Stevie dropped by. Sometimes he thought they were both a little too eager for her visits.

Weren’t cats and computer analysts supposed to be contentedly independent and naturally aloof? He’d wondered more than once what sort of special magic Stevie wielded to enchant them so thoroughly, though he hoped he was a bit more discreet about his fascination with her than his pet. He treasured his unconventional friendship with Stevie too much to risk it with the awkwardness of an unrequited infatuation.

A data analyst for a national medical group, Cole worked primarily from home. He made a few business trips a year for planning and progress meetings, but mostly he communicated with the outside world via computer and smartphone.

His late wife had teasingly accused him of taking introversion to the extreme. But it wasn’t that he disliked people. He was just more comfortable with computers, especially since Natasha’s difficult illness.

It was suddenly very quiet in the room. Pushing thoughts of the painful past from his mind, he cleared his throat and glanced toward the window. “Sounds like the sleet has stopped. Maybe it’s finally changing over to snow. I’d rather have snow than ice.”

Stevie nodded with a bit too much enthusiasm for the banal comments. “No kidding. At least this weather hit on a Friday so most people don’t have to get out for work or school tomorrow. Not that local schools would be open, anyway. You know they close at the first sign of a snowflake. But still, I hope we get enough snow for the kids to build snowmen and have snowball fights. That’s not something they get to do very often around here, so they’ll want to make the most of it. I remember how disappointed I always was when we got all psyched up for snow and had to settle for just a dusting. Still, I hope it’s gone by Monday. I have a couple of meetings I’d really hate to have to put off.”

He chuckled, accustomed to her characteristic, stream-of-consciousness prattling. “Let’s hope there’s enough snow for the kids to enjoy over the weekend but that it melts quickly enough not to cause too many issues for the coming week.”

“That would work.” She smiled, but he had the distinct feeling something was wrong. For one thing, she was twisting a curl tightly around her fingertip, a nervous habit he’d noticed several times during the past few months.

Stevie was one of the most naturally effervescent women he’d ever known, outgoing and optimistic and a little quirky. She’d grown up in the comfortable bungalow on the corner lot next door in Little Rock, Arkansas. She’d been the first to welcome him to the street when he’d bought this house in the midtown neighborhood that was currently undergoing a revival after a decade-long slump. He’d made a tidy profit on the condo he’d sold last year, and he thought he’d do the same with this place if his needs changed again. Even better than that, he’d gained Stevie as a neighbor.

He wondered if it was only the bad weather that had left her free on a Friday night to keep his cat company and doze on his couch. As far as he knew, she hadn’t dated anyone since a breakup some three months ago. When they’d first met, he’d had designs on her, and maybe he’d even had a few fantasies about her since, but he’d never acted on any of them. She’d been involved with the hipster musician, which had made her off-limits. Not that he had a chance with her anyway.

Inherently candid, Stevie had once confessed to him during a rambling conversation that she had a lamentable weakness for footloose artists and musicians, a penchant that had left her soft heart bruised more than once. He’d gotten the message, whether intentional or not on her part. Reclusive computer geeks were not her type romantically, though she seemed pleased to have one among her many pals.

Since she’d split with Joe, she’d been slightly more subdued than usual, but tonight she seemed even more dispirited. Had she been crying because she was lonely? Or—he swallowed hard, very much disliking the other possibility—because she missed the guy who’d caused her so much grief before he’d left town to start a new single life in Texas?

He tried to think of something more to say, but small talk wasn’t his forte. Stevie usually carried their conversations, chattering away while he enjoyed listening and responding when prompted. Yet she never seemed bored by him, another trait that made her so special. Stevie would never yawn and check her watch during dinner with him.

He winced as he remembered the recent blind date he’d been stupid enough to consent to after being nagged by a friend’s wife. He’d been just as disinterested during the evening, but he’d at least had the courtesy to not be so obvious about it. When he wanted to spend time with a woman, he had a few numbers he could call, a couple of women friends who wanted nothing more from him than a few hours of mutual pleasure. He didn’t make those calls often—and even less so during the past couple of months, for some reason.

He didn’t know why his mind had drifted in that direction at the moment, though the thought of dinner gave him inspiration. “Have you eaten?” he asked Stevie. “I’ve been on a plane all afternoon and I’m hungry.”

She hesitated, then smiled a bit more naturally. “No, actually, I haven’t had dinner. I might have even skipped lunch. I don’t remember.”

The admission made him even more convinced that something was troubling her, but he figured she’d tell him when and if she was ready. Maybe over a hot meal.

“I froze portions of that big pot of soup you made for me last week. It’ll take just a few minutes to thaw and heat a couple bowlfuls.”

She smoothed her tousled hair with one hand and nodded. “Sounds good. Just let me wash up and I’ll help you.”

“I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

Hastily stashing his bags to unpack later, he busied himself preparing the impromptu meal. Had he found the empty house he’d expected when he’d returned, he’d have nuked the soup and eaten in front of the TV with a beer straight from the can. But since he had company, he made more effort, setting the table with placemats and flatware, making sure the bowls weren’t scratched or chipped.

For the most part, he’d learned to be content with his quiet life, so why was he so pleased by the prospect of sharing a simple bowl of soup with Stevie on a bleak, winter evening?

* * *

After splashing water on her face in Cole’s guest bathroom, Stevie pressed a hand to her still-flat stomach, drew a deep breath and assured herself she looked reasonably presentable considering she’d just been startled out of a sound sleep. She seemed to be sleepy a lot these days. She hadn’t even heard Cole enter the house.

The thought of him standing there watching her sleep made her pulse flutter. She supposed it was embarrassment at being caught off guard in his living room. He didn’t seem to mind that she’d made herself at home while he was away, but then, she wouldn’t have expected anything different from laid-back Cole.

In the year she’d known him, she’d never seen him rattled. She’d rarely observed any display of strong emotions from him, actually. He was the steadiest, most sensible person she knew, a calming presence in her sometimes hectic life. Maybe that was why she’d instinctively taken refuge in his living room when she’d been sad and stressed, though her cat-sitting duties had made a convenient excuse.

She scrutinized her reflection in the mirror. Had Cole seen the tear stains on her cheeks? She thought maybe he had and felt the heat of embarrassment. Though she wasn’t usually shy about expressing her emotions—even tended to overshare at times—Stephanie “Stevie” McLane liked to think of herself as resilient, feisty and courageous. Not the type to hide in a friend’s house and sniffle into his cat’s soft fur. Still, Cole had merely searched her face with his dark, perceptive eyes, calmly asked if everything was okay, then offered her a hot meal. Somehow he’d seemed to know it was exactly what she’d needed, and not just because she was hungry.

He glanced up with a smile when she joined him in the kitchen. His thick, wavy dark hair was a bit messy, but then it always was. A hint of evening stubble shadowed his firm jaw. His eyes were the color of rich, dark chocolate. She’d always thought those beautiful eyes gleamed with both kindness and intelligence. Broad-shouldered and solidly built, he was not what she would call classically handsome, nor did he have that somewhat ethereal artist quality she’d always been drawn to in the past. He didn’t talk a lot, and he wasn’t prone to sharing his feelings. Still, there was something about Cole that automatically evoked trust and confidence.

She’d liked him from the day he’d moved into this house. There’d been a definite tug of feminine interest, but within her first hour of chatting with him—okay, interrogating him, as he’d humorously referred to that initial conversation—she’d found out he was a computer whiz, a widower and a country music fan who usually listened to news radio in his car. He was practically her total opposite, a stalwart Taurus to her capricious Gemini.

She’d tried to convince herself since then that her latent fascination with him was due more to those intriguing differences than to an underlying attraction she couldn’t entirely deny. Despite being involved in an on-again, off-again relationship with a commitment-phobic musician for most of the time she’d known Cole, she’d have to have been brainless not to notice what a great guy he was. So different from her other male acquaintances, he was an enigma to her in many ways, but still they’d become friends. Maybe they could have become more than friends, had circumstances developed differently. She always enjoyed hanging out with him, and she missed him when he was away.

She had missed his steady, solid presence even more than usual during the past few days.

With old-fashioned courtesy, he held her chair for her as she took her seat at the table. “I don’t have much to offer by way of a beverage,” he said apologetically. “I can make coffee or there’s beer or I can open a bottle of wine...”

“This is fine, thank you,” she said, motioning toward the water glass he’d already filled and set beside her steaming bowl.

To quickly distract herself from her problems, she picked up her spoon and asked, “How was your trip?”

Seated now across the table from her, he grimaced. “Let’s just say it’s a miracle I’m not spending tonight in jail rather than having a nice bowl of soup with you.”

She smiled. “Annoying associates?”

“To quote my late country grandpa, a couple of them were as dumb as a bag of rocks.”

That made her laugh. She always loved it when Cole quoted his “country grandpa,” who had apparently been a treasury of old adages. “Knowing you, I’m sure you were completely polite and patient with them.”

“I don’t know how patient I was, but I tried not to tell them what I really thought. They didn’t even try to pay attention half the time, then complained because they missed a few important points. It gets frustrating. Which is one of the main reasons I prefer telecommuting to pointless meetings and endless deliberations.”

As a busy kitchen designer, Stevie knew all about frustrating collaborations. “Totally understand. There are plenty of times I want to dump a pitcher of ice water over a superpicky client or a lazy subcontractor.”

He chuckled. “I’m sure you’re able to sweet-talk all of them into seeing things your way. That’s a talent I don’t have.”

She had to concede that no one would describe Cole as a “sweet talker.” Or a talker at all, for that matter. Still, when he did speak, he always had something interesting and thoughtful to contribute. She’d consulted him several times about perplexing business issues, and had valued his measured, practical advice.

Biting her lip, she wondered what he would say if she confided her current, very personal predicament. She clenched her fingers in her lap.

Cole cleared his throat. She glanced up to find him studying her face with those too-knowing eyes. “Your food is getting cold,” he said quietly.

Had he sensed somehow that she’d hovered on the verge of another meltdown? Either way, his reminder had been just what she’d needed to bring her back from the edge. Gripping her spoon so tightly her knuckles whitened, she concentrated on the soup and the cheese and crackers he’d served with it. In an attempt to keep him—and maybe herself—diverted, she talked as she ate, babbling away about anything that randomly occurred to her.

Seeming to have little trouble following her rapid changes of topic, Cole finished his meal then pulled a bag of cookies from the pantry for dessert. She declined the offer, finishing her rapidly cooling soup between sentences while he munched a couple of Oreos.

When he finished, he carried his dishes to the sink, sidestepping the cat munching kibble from a bowl on the floor. Stevie helped him clear the table, smiling up at him as they reached at the same time to close the dishwasher door.

“Thank you, Cole.”

“For the soup? Wasn’t any trouble, I just warmed it up. You actually made it.”

She gave him a fondly chiding look. “Not for the soup, though I guess I needed that. Mostly, thanks for the company and conversation. I needed that even more tonight.”

Wiping his hands, he turned to face her with a slight smile on his firm lips. “I didn’t say much.”

“I didn’t give you much chance.”

“Well, no, but I’m used to that.”

She giggled, pleased to feel like laughing now, even at her own expense. She reached up to pat his cheek. “Are you calling me a chatterbox?”

“Just stating facts.” His rare, full grin lit his eyes and carved long dimples around his mouth. Tousled and scruffy after his long day, he looked...well, adorable. His evening beard tickled her palm, and the warmth of his skin tempted her to nestle closer to his solid strength to alleviate her own nervous chill.

A bit unnerved by the impulse, she dropped her hand quickly and laced her fingers together. This was not the time to be distracted by the physical attraction that had always underscored her friendship with Cole, an attraction she’d always assured herself she had very good reasons to keep private.

“You’ve been traveling all day,” she said, rallying her inner defenses and taking a step back. “I’m sure you’re tired. I should go and let you relax.”

“There’s no rush. We could stream a movie or something. I think I have some popcorn.”

Her smile felt a little tremulous. He was being so sweetly concerned about her, even though he hadn’t a clue what was troubling her. He’d probably looked forward to crashing on his couch or bed when he’d returned from his business trip. Instead, he’d found himself preparing dinner for a surprise guest and offering to entertain her even longer in case she was still reluctant to return to her own empty house. Was it any wonder she considered him one of her dearest friends?

“Thanks, Cole, but I think I’ll just turn in early.”

He frowned. “What if your power goes out tonight? With the layer of ice underneath this snow, it’s a definite possibility.”

“I have plenty of blankets to snuggle under, a couple of good flashlights, and a gas stovetop for heating water for tea.”

“Your phone is charged?”

“Almost completely. And I’ll plug it in as soon as I get home.”

He nodded, though he didn’t look entirely reassured.

She slid her hands down her sides in a nervous gesture. “So...”

Just as Cole wasn’t much of a “talker,” he wasn’t much of a “toucher,” either. Casual hugs and pats didn’t come naturally to him, the way they did for her. He never seemed to mind being on the receiving end, though he’d once teased her about patting his cat goodnight, then doing the same to him as she’d prepared to leave.

So, it surprised her a little when he rested a hand on her shoulder as he gazed somberly into her eyes. “You know, Stevie, I’m not much of a conversationalist, but you’ve told me more than once that I’m a very good listener. And I’m your friend. If there’s anything at all I can do for you, I hope you’d feel comfortable telling me.”

Though she tried to hold on to her composure, all it took was a slight squeeze of his fingers to make her eyes fill with tears. To her consternation, sobs burst from her chest as an overtaxed emotional dam finally gave way, and there seemed to be nothing she could do to stop them.

After only a heartbeat’s hesitation, Cole stepped forward and gathered her into his arms. He patted her back somewhat awkwardly, a bewildered male response that only made her cry harder.

“Stevie, tell me. What’s wrong?”

“I’m—” She choked, then blurted out, “I’m pregnant.”

* * *

Cole’s hand froze in midpat. Of all the answers he had imagined, that was the lowest on his list.

Her voice muffled by his shoulder, she spoke in a flood of jumbled words interspersed with gulping sobs. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I haven’t told anyone, not even my best friends. This has been building up for weeks, ever since I first suspected I was pregnant, but I didn’t want to even think about it. I tried to believe it was just stress or miscalculation, but it’s real, and now I’m almost three months along. Joe moved to Austin and I’m pretty sure he has another girlfriend there already. He said he doesn’t want a kid and he’d be a terrible father, anyway. I’m not even brokenhearted about the breakup because it wasn’t working out and neither of us was really happy. Still, my brother and I grew up without our fathers and I always said I’d never do that to a child and I can’t believe I was so stupid at my age. I’ll do my best to give my baby a happy childhood. I mean, I turned out okay, right? But the weather was terrible tonight and I was home all alone and I just wanted company, even if it was only your cat,” she finished in a soft wail.

He followed the tangled monologue, but just barely. It was a lot of information to digest in a very short amount of time. Fortunately, interpreting massive amounts of data was what he did every day. Stevie was three months pregnant. Joe was out of the picture. Stevie planned to raise the child alone. And she was obviously scared spitless.

Because a calm tone usually trumped overwrought emotion, he asked, “Have you seen a doctor?”

She nodded into his shoulder. “Twice.”

“Are you okay? Healthy?”

Her sniffles slowed and she bobbed her head again. “Both of us are.”

Both. He swallowed at the reminder that he wasn’t holding just Stevie. He couldn’t think of anything reassuring to say, so he fell back on practicality. Reaching around her, he snagged a paper towel from the counter and offered it to her. “I don’t have a clean handkerchief on me, but maybe you could make use of this?”

His prosaic offer seemed to jolt her out of her meltdown. She made what appeared to be a heroic attempt to get her emotions under control. When she raised her head slowly to look at him, her wet, vivid blue eyes looked huge against her pale skin. She clutched his shirt in both fists as though anchoring herself in a whirlwind. Drawing a deep, unsteady breath, she relaxed her grip, carefully smoothed his crumpled shirt and stepped out of his arms. He hovered close. She still looked fragile enough to collapse at his feet.

“I, um—” It seemed to annoy her that her words were interrupted by a little catch of her breath. She cleared her throat and said, “I’m sorry I fell apart on you. The words just started flooding out and I couldn’t stop them.”

“You needed to unload,” he said simply.

“I guess you’re right,” she said after a few moments. “Like I said, I haven’t told anyone except Joe and my doctor. I just... I didn’t know what to say.”

“Keeping it to yourself for so long had to have been hard for you.” It must have been especially difficult for naturally forthcoming Stevie.

Wiping her cheeks with the paper towel, she nodded. “Especially with Jenny and Tess. They’re my best friends and we tell each other everything. Or we always have until now. But Tess is busy planning her wedding and Jenny and Gavin have been trying to get pregnant ever since they got married. How can I tell her that I accidentally got knocked up by a guy she never really liked all that much, anyway?”

He filled a glass with water and handed it to her without comment. She accepted it with a nod of thanks and took a few sips. He was relieved to note that the color was returning to her face, that her hand was steadier when she set the glass on the counter.

She drew a deep, unsteady breath before speaking again. “It was after Christmas when I first suspected I was pregnant, but another couple of weeks before I let myself believe it.”

“Had to have been a shock to you.” It had certainly stunned him.

“To say the least. I felt obligated to call Joe, but he made it clear he won’t be involved, so I’m on my own, which is fine with me since I’m not interested in seeing him again. I mean, yeah, it was irresponsible of me, but I’m thirty-one, you know? I’ll be thirty-two in May. I’ve always thought I’d have a baby someday, and this could be my best chance. I’ve completely sworn off stupid fairy-tale fantasies for the future. It’s taken me way too long and too many heartaches to figure out that I have not a shred of good judgment when it comes to romance. I’ve always been drawn to the guys who are the least likely to settle down, and I’ve always ended up on the losing end. No more. I’ll figure out a way to raise this child on my own. Sure, it’ll be tough making my schedule work out for the next few months and budgeting my savings to tide us over during the time I’ll have to take off for maternity leave. I mean, my business is still pretty new and this is like the worst time to try to juggle contracts and finances and time off, but somehow I’ll—”

“More water?” He motioned toward the glass as her nervous babbling threatened to lead to tears again. It was obvious she was on to him.

Drawing in another long breath, she smiled a bit wryly as she shook her head. Dusty wound around her ankles and she reached down to give the cat an absent stroke before straightening to speak more calmly again. “So, here I am. Single and pregnant, just like my mother was twice in two years with my brother and then me. I haven’t been sick a day and my doctor says I’m very healthy and so is the baby. I guess hormones just got the best of me tonight. I’ll be fine, really.”

“I have no doubt of it,” he said. “You’ll be a good mother.”

She moistened her lips. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely.” She should know by now that he didn’t say things he didn’t mean.

Her smile was sweetly tremulous. “Thank you, Cole. For the dinner, for letting me cry all over you, for being such a good friend. And now I really am going to leave so you can rest.”

A good friend. He could be that for her.

He wasn’t entirely sure she should be alone in her agitated mood, but he figured she would decline if he tried again to detain her. So he merely nodded and said, “I’ll walk you home.”

Tossing the crumpled paper towel into the trash, she glanced over her shoulder with a lifted eyebrow. “Since when do you need to walk me next door?”

“Since there’s ice all over the walkway and you’re pregnant,” he replied bluntly. “I want to make sure you don’t fall.”

“It’s not necessary, but I can see you’re going to insist.” Her smile looked a bit more natural now, though still not the high-wattage grin he associated with her.

With a faint smile in return, he nodded. “You’re right. I am.”

Minutes later, bundled into their coats, they walked out into what amounted to an Arkansas blizzard. Snow fell so hard he could hardly see Stevie’s white house on the big corner lot next door. The ground was already covered and no cars drove down the street, most of the locals having taken the advice of forecasters and burrowed safely into their homes for the night.

It wouldn’t stay this peaceful, of course. He’d bet the generally well-behaved but exuberant Bristol kids across the street would be out playing in the snow as soon as their mom gave them permission. Snow days were always a rare treat around here, even though they proved a headache for road crews and first responders.

He kept his gaze trained on Stevie as they stepped off his porch. Her disposition changed the moment they moved out into the winter storm. She couldn’t seem to resist turning her face up to let the snow fall against her cheeks. The security lamps above them provided just enough light for Cole to see the white flakes glittering on her skin and in her golden curls. With her signature musical laugh, she held out her arms and turned in a little circle, her shoes crunching on the thin layer of ice beneath the accumulating snow. Bemused by her mercurial mood shifts, and well aware they had more to do with her unique personality than to fluctuating hormones, he chuckled and caught her arm to make sure she didn’t fall.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” she asked with a sigh, wrapping her hands around his arm and smiling companionably up at him.

“Very.”

Her lashes fluttered, though he wasn’t sure whether that was due to the snow or his husky tone. He cleared his throat. He must be more tired than he’d realized, or more shaken than he’d have expected by Stevie’s bombshell. Whatever the reason, he found himself wanting to prolong this cozy walk in the snowy night with Stevie tucked close to his side, breath clouds mingling and drifting in the air in front of them. For the second time in just over an hour, he felt almost as if he’d stepped into one of his private fantasies. He was glad mind reading wasn’t among Stevie McLane’s many talents. He wasn’t sure how she’d react to knowing that just watching her catching a snowflake on her tongue sent his imagination down a path much more hazardous than the one on which they walked.

Burying those uncomfortable thoughts deep inside his mind, he made an effort to keep his expression blandly friendly until they were on her small porch. She unlocked the front door she’d painted bright blue to match the shutters. One hand on the knob, she smiled up at him. “Okay, I’m safely home. You can relax.”

He searched her face in the soft glow of her porch light. “You’re sure you’re okay? If you need anything else this evening, even if just to talk more, I’m available.”

In a gesture that was both impulsive and entirely characteristic, she wrapped her arms around his waist for a hug. “Thank you,” she said. “You’re a very nice man, Cole McKellar.”

A very nice man. As flattering as her comments were, they were hardly the words she’d have whispered in one of those steamy daydreams. Giving himself a mental slap, he returned his friend’s hug with a brief squeeze before stepping back. “Good night, Stevie. Call if you need me.”

She opened her door. “Good night, Cole.”

He stepped down from the little porch into the falling snow, which was already hiding the footprints they’d left on the way. He’d taken only a step when something made him turn back around. “Stevie?”

She paused in the act of closing the door. “Yes?”

“You aren’t alone.”

With that blurted promise, he turned and headed home, his head down, his fists shoved into the pockets of his coat. He’d taken quite a few steps by the time he heard Stevie close her door.

Chapter Two

Stevie woke late Saturday morning feeling more positive than she had since she first suspected she was pregnant. She wandered to her bedroom window to look over an expanse of glittering snow toward Cole’s house. Simply sharing her predicament with him last night had seemed to take a load off her shoulders.

You aren’t alone. She could still hear the echo of his deep voice. The words had lulled her to sleep last night, and were still drifting through her mind when she’d awakened. She couldn’t begin to express how much it had meant to her to hear them.

Cole was such a great guy. Quiet, but with his own sly sense of humor. Fascinatingly intelligent, in a math-ish sort of way. And completely nonjudgmental, a particularly appealing trait at the moment.

A habitual matchmaker for her friends, she’d occasionally tried to think of someone who’d be a good match for this supernice man, but for some reason she could never come up with anyone who seemed just right for him. A secret part of her had acknowledged on occasion that she’d selfishly wanted to keep him to herself. She had pushed that unsettling voice aside, reminding herself that she’d been in no position to make a play for Cole even if he’d encouraged her.

She wasn’t even sure he’d dated seriously in the year she’d known him, though he went out sometimes in the evenings, casually alluding to gatherings with friends. He didn’t talk about his late wife much, but on those rare occasions his face warmed and softened. She could tell he had truly loved her. Natasha had been gone for several years, but maybe he still mourned her too deeply to be interested in a new relationship. It was hard to be sure with Cole. He tended to keep his deepest emotions to himself.

It made her sad to think of him still grieving, unwilling or unable to fall in love again. Only because he was her friend and she wanted all her friends to be happy, she assured herself. Still, he seemed content with his home, a job he enjoyed and the friends she hadn’t met, so maybe that was enough for him.

She dressed in jeans and a multicolored sweater with colorfully striped knee socks, figuring she’d be out in the cold at some point. As had been her habit the past couple weeks, she turned sideways in front of the mirror to check her figure. Her jeans were getting a little snug in the waist and her bras were a bit tight on her already-generous bustline, but she doubted even her closest friends would be able to guess her condition by looking at her.

She must tell Tess and Jenny soon. She felt incredibly guilty that she hadn’t already, even more than not having told her mother and brother. Her two closest friends would forgive her, would even understand why she’d kept her secret for so long, but she wouldn’t blame them if they were a bit hurt, at least at first. Especially Jenny, who’d been her best friend since their school days. They’d met Tess almost two years ago and they’d been a tight trio ever since, though they couldn’t spend quite as much time together now that Jenny was married and Tess was busily planning a June wedding.

Being human, after all, and the most unabashedly romantic of the small group, Stevie couldn’t help feeling a little envious that both Jenny and Tess had found the loves of their lives while her own romances always fizzled. Perhaps she’d been destined all along to follow in her mother’s self-reliant footsteps. Was it in her genes to habitually fall for the men who were least likely to settle down to marriage and families?

Shaking her head in exasperation, she turned away from the window.

After eating breakfast, she went into a spare bedroom she used as a home office. Sitting at her desk, she thought of Cole. Like him, she worked from home a lot, but she also leased a small office in a midtown strip center, though most of her work hours were spent in on-site meetings with clients. She was glad she had a third bedroom so she wouldn’t lose her office when the baby came.

She’d been at it only an hour when she was interrupted by the chime of the doorbell. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was just after eleven. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Thinking Cole had come over to check on her, she opened the door with an eager smile that wavered only a little when she saw the caller.

“Hi, guys, what’s up?” she asked the three pink-cheeked, heavily bundled kids grinning up at her. The Bristol siblings were cute little peas from the same pod, all red-haired, green-eyed and snub-nosed. The boys, Leo and Asher, were nine and seven. Charlotte was five. Baby sister Everly—the “surprise baby,” according to their mother, Lori—was presumably at home with their mom. A rather chaotic pathway of little footprints in the snow led from their house across the cul-de-sac to Stevie’s small porch.

“Can you come out and help us build a snowman, Miss Stevie?” Charlotte asked with wide, hopeful eyes. “Mommy’s taking care of Everly and Daddy’s at work.”

She wasn’t surprised by the request. Since the baby’s birth six months ago, she’d played with them several times to give their somewhat harried mother a few minutes to rest on days when her firefighter husband was on twenty-four-hour shifts. They’d thrown basketballs at the hoop mounted above their garage door, played tag and catch, even sat at the picnic table in their backyard with board games. Lori had been almost tearfully grateful for the breaks, but Stevie never minded. She liked kids, particularly these funny and well-behaved siblings.

“Give me five minutes to bundle up and I’ll join you in your yard.”

The children cheered happily.

“Leo, hold Charlotte’s hand on the way back across the street,” she instructed. “And look both ways before you cross.”

Leo made an exaggerated show of taking his little sister’s hand to lead her across the empty street to their own yard. Smiling, Stevie closed her door and turned toward the bedroom.

Half an hour later, she was breathless and covered with snow from the bright blue knit cap on her head to the waterproof pink boots into which she’d tucked her jeans. Her hooded jacket was yellow, her gloves the same blue as her hat. Charlotte told her she looked like she was wearing a rainbow. Laughing, Stevie showed her how to make a snow angel, adding to her frosty coating.

With the thin layer of sleet beneath, the snow crunched when they played in it. Gray clouds hung low above them, but happy laughter reigned in the Bristol’s front yard. From inside the warm house, Lori and baby Everly appeared occasionally in a window to watch, and Stevie waved to them. Next year that little angel, too, would be out playing in the snow. And she would have a baby of her own to watch, she realized with a hard thump of her heart. To soothe the fresh attack of nerves, she focused on the Bristol kids.

The boys had nearly cleared the front lawn of packable snow in the quest to make their snowman “supersized.” It was so big that Stevie was elected to lift the giant head onto the body. She drew a deep breath and prepared to give it her best shot. Two strong, black-gloved hands came from behind her to offer assistance. She looked over her shoulder and smiled when she saw Cole standing there. He wore a black watchman cap over his thick dark hair, a black jacket and black boots—a more somber, coordinated ensemble than her own.

His chocolate eyes gleamed with amusement as he grinned down at her. “Need a hand?”

“Or two,” she agreed. “These kids like their snowmen on the larger side.”

“We’re building a snow giant!” Asher exclaimed eagerly, carrying a large stick he’d found in the backyard. “This can be one of his arms. Leo’s looking for another.”

With Cole’s help, they made short work of completing their snow friend, accessorizing with a battered ball cap and frayed scarf donated by Lori. They created facial features with decorative river rocks filched from the flower beds. It had started to snow again, to the children’s delight. Another half inch was predicted on top of the six inches that had collected during the night. Stevie figured the snowman would survive a day or two before the warmer temperatures forecast for later in the week melted him away.

After being summoned for lunch by their mother, the siblings politely thanked Stevie and Cole for their assistance in building “the best snowman ever!” They tramped reluctantly inside their house when their mother called out again. Stevie grimaced sympathetically as she imagined the wet mess of clothing and puddles Lori would deal with, but maybe the busy mom would consider it a fair trade-off for the hour of volunteer babysitting. From the open doorway, with Everly on her hip, she called out an offer of hot chocolate, but they declined cordially.

“Though, actually, hot chocolate sounds like a good idea,” Stevie confided to Cole as they tramped across the street. She wiped snowflakes from her eyelashes with the back of one damp glove. “I’m freezing.”

“Your jeans are wet from rolling around in the snow with Charlotte. You should get into dry clothes.”

She noted he’d stayed much drier, maybe because he’d been a little less enthusiastic about getting down in the snow, she admitted with a grin.

“Come in, if you have time,” she said, motioning toward her house. “I make a mean mug of cocoa.”

“That sounds really—”

His right foot slipped on a slick spot on her driveway. Flailing comically, he went down flat on his back in the snow. Stevie almost burst into laughter at the funny expression he made as he lay there, but she managed to contain her amusement to a grin.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, though she could tell at a glance that he’d damaged only his pride.

Very deliberately, he spread his arms and legs into Vs, then climbed to his feet, surveying the resulting snow angel with a nod of satisfaction. “I meant to do that.”

Delighted by his quick wit, she laughed and tucked a hand companionably beneath his arm. “Let’s go get warm.”

“Sounds good to me,” he said, covering her hand with his own. And though they both wore gloves, she could still feel the warmth of his touch spreading through her.

* * *

Having shed their wet boots on the porch, Cole insisted that Stevie change into dry clothes before she played hostess. She left him to wash up in the guest bath while she ducked into her bedroom to change into a loose sweater and leggings. Fluffing her curls with her hands, she gave herself a quick once-over in the full-length, silver-framed, art deco mirror that coordinated with her sage, silver and cream French deco bedroom furnishings. Her cheeks and nose were still pink from the cold but she resisted an impulse to touch up her minimal makeup for her guest’s benefit. After all, it was just Cole, right?

Her country French kitchen was her favorite room in the house. The walls were warm sage, the cabinets knotty pecan with leaded glass inserts, the counters brown-and-tan granite with antique bronze hardware. Cole joined her there, looking casually at ease in his sweater, jeans and wool socks. His dark hair was disheveled from the hat he’d removed, and her fingers itched with a sudden urge to play in those thick, unruly waves. She opened the refrigerator instead. “How about a sandwich before we drink our cocoa? Playing in the snow always gives me an appetite.”

“Sounds good, if it’s not too much trouble. What can I do to help?”

When they sat down to lunch, to her relief, he didn’t bring up her pregnancy. He merely ate his grilled cheddar-and-tomato sandwiches and munched salt-and-vinegar chips while she babbled nervously about everything and anything—except her predicament.

After the dishes were cleared away, they moved to the living room with steaming cups of cocoa topped with marshmallows. She’d indulged her love of eclectic European and American deco design in here, too. Flames crackled among the gas logs in the fireplace framed in white-painted carved wood, spreading warmth through the room. With her feet curled comfortably beneath her, she sat on the dove-gray couch that faced the fireplace. Cole had settled in a tapestry armchair near her end of the couch. She couldn’t help admiring the way the firelight brought out the highlights in his hair.

“I’ve always liked this room,” he commented, stretching his legs in front of him toward the fire. “It always impresses me that it can look so classy yet still be so comfortable. Not fussy and formal like some people’s decorated places.”

Pleased by the comments, she beamed. “That’s exactly what I aim for in my decorating. Stylish, but welcoming. Home design is meant to be enjoyed. Lived in, not just admired or photographed.”

He nodded in approval. “That’s as it should be. I’ve always said it was a waste to have furniture you can’t sit on or carpet you feel guilty walking on. Tasha—”

He stopped talking and took a sip of his cocoa.

She swirled her beverage gently in her mug to better distribute the melting marshmallows. “Natasha agreed with your design aesthetic?” she prodded gently. She was curious to hear more about the woman he’d married, but she didn’t want to cause him pain talking about her.

He shrugged, his expression wry. “She wasn’t really into decorating. As long as she had a comfortable chair for reading, she was happy.”

“She liked to read?”

“Almost obsessively, especially as her health declined and there was little else she could do.”

“Was she sick for a long time?”

“Yes,” he replied quietly.

And Cole had taken care of her during that time. She had no doubt that Natasha had received the best of care from him. Unlike most of the men in her own past, Cole wasn’t the type to walk away from his responsibilities and commitments, even when those challenges were daunting. Any woman who captured his heart would be very fortunate, indeed, she thought a bit wistfully.

“Do you have plans for the day?” he asked, and it couldn’t be more obvious that he wanted to change the subject.

She obliged. “I was going to spend a few hours at my office, but I think I’ll just work at home this afternoon instead, considering drivers around here go insane when there’s snow on the roads.”

“Good plan. So, are you, um, feeling better today?”

She managed not to grimace in response to the oblique reminder of last night’s meltdown, but it still embarrassed her. “Much better, thank you. I had fun playing with the Bristol kids this morning.”

“Nice kids. They’re obviously crazy about you.”

“I like them, too.”

He finished his cocoa. A dab of marshmallow dotted his upper lip when he lowered the mug. She eyed it from beneath her lashes. She wasn’t sure why she wasn’t teasing him about it. Normally she would have, but something held her back just then. Maybe it was the crazy image that popped unexpectedly into her head—herself licking away that tempting smudge and then sampling the taste of chocolate on his firm lips.

She blinked rapidly, shocked at the direction her thoughts had taken. Hormones. That had to be the explanation. Sure, she’d always been aware of Cole as an attractive man, not to mention his other fine qualities, but she’d deliberately avoided thinking of him in that way. She’d made some really bad decisions when it came to romance, leading, if not to heartbreak, at least to frequent disappointment. Tragically widowed, Cole had shown so signs that he wanted more from her than friendship. And besides, she treasured their relationship too much to risk ruining it by trying to convince themselves they were a compatible match. Most especially not now, considering her awkward predicament.

He wiped off that distracting bit of marshmallow with a napkin, then stood to carry his mug to the kitchen. She followed with her own. He turned just as she approached the sink, and they very nearly collided. With a low laugh, he caught her shoulders. “Steady there.”

Heat flared from his touch. For a moment, her mind went blank. She took a jerky step backward, then tried to cover her discomfiture with a laugh. “Were you afraid I was going to knock you over?”

He smiled. “Maybe. I’ve already landed at your feet once in the past twenty-four hours. And there’s no snow in here to give me a credible reason for being on the ground.”

She laughed and moved to rinse her mug in the sink. When she turned back around, she found Cole looking up at her high ceiling with a frown. “You have a bulb out,” he said.

She followed his glance and saw the dark bulb in one of the recessed canisters that provided auxiliary lighting to the pendant lamps over the island. “I thought something looked different in that corner.”

“Do you have a spare bulb?”

“Yes. I’ll change it later.”

He was shaking his head before she’d completed the sentence. “You don’t need to climb ladders in your condition. I’ll take care of it.”

She had to admit it was difficult for her, at five-two, to change the bulbs in her nine-foot kitchen ceiling. Grateful for his assistance, she fetched a bulb and a stepladder, then turned off the light switch. She leaned against a nearby counter while Cole climbed onto the stepladder and reached overhead. For a self-professed “computer nerd,” the man did stay in good condition, she thought, watching muscles ripple as he stretched upward and his shirt exposed part of what looked to be a perfectly formed six pack.

“Well, damn.”

She lifted an eyebrow in response to his growl. “What’s wrong?”

“Bulb broke off in my hand and now the cap’s stuck in the socket.”

“Hang on, I’ll grab a potato.”

He stepped off the ladder to toss the broken bulb into the trash, watching while she sliced a fat potato neatly in half. “So you know that trick.”

She smiled as she handed him one half of the potato. “I’ve broken a few bulbs in my time. My mom taught me this trick years ago. Our budget was usually tight, so she was the ‘handyman’ around here when we were growing up, at least until my brother and I were old enough to do our share of maintenance.”

“She sounds very self-sufficient.”

“I suppose she had to be. I’ve told you, of course, that Mom never married the fathers of either of her kids. She had issues with commitment, and she said neither of them were the home-and-hearth types, anyway. My father died when I was just a toddler, leaving nothing for my support. Mom didn’t get much help from my brother’s dad, either, but she supported us well enough on her own. She put a down payment on this house with a small inheritance from her parents when Tom and I were very young, and then paid it off over the next ten years with her salary. She was a shrewd budgeter. She gave us a good home here—even though working nine to five in a state job smothered her gypsy soul, as she informed us too many times to count.”

Back up on the ladder, Cole glanced down at her when she stopped for a breath. “She sounds like a unique woman.”

She smiled. “She is that.”

Practically the day Stevie had graduated from college, her accomplished but unconventional mother had announced she was retiring from her job with the state and moving to Hawaii. Upon her retirement, she’d sold Stevie this house for a bargain price and had gone off to find herself on a warm beach.

She turned to pull a bottle of water from the fridge, speaking almost to herself as she twisted off the cap. “I only hope I can handle the challenges of single motherhood as well as Mom did.”

“You’ll be great.” He pushed the potato into the broken bulb and twisted. The resulting metallic squeal made them both grimace, but the trick worked. Stevie held up a wastebasket for the potato and broken parts, then handed him the new bulb.

“Thanks,” he said, reaching up again before asking in a conversational tone, “Do you remember your father at all?”

“No. Like I said, I was just a toddler when he was killed in a car wreck, and he’d never even seen me.”

“And your brother’s father?”

“Tom’s dad is still living, as far as we know, but they’ve never had a relationship. It was just the three of us here.”

She gave a little sigh. “I have to admit I was always envious of my friends who had fathers in their lives. Jenny grew up without a dad, too, so she and I bonded in childhood over that, but we were both a little jealous of the girls who had dads to take them to father-daughter dances or even to give their boyfriends the third degree,” she added with a rueful laugh. “I know Tom would have liked having a father to play catch with him and take him fishing and other male bonding stuff. Mom threw a mean curve ball and taught us to ride our bikes and drive and do basic home and car maintenance, everything we needed, really...but I’ve always thought if I ever had a kid, I’d give him or her the one thing missing from my own otherwise happy childhood. A dad.”

Dusting off his hands, Cole climbed down and folded the stepladder. “Not everyone is lucky enough to have a close relationship with their father,” he muttered as he carried the ladder toward the laundry room.

She watched him thoughtfully. Though he hadn’t said much about his family issues, she knew Cole wasn’t close to his father. He’d told her his parents were divorced, and both remarried. His mother had moved to another state several years ago, and he’d spent most of his childhood with his paternal grandparents—the “country grandpa” he quoted often—but he hadn’t given details of his estrangement from his dad.

Maybe it was just as well she was doing this on her own, she thought with a sigh. Her child’s biological father had no interest at all in fatherhood. Had she been with someone different, someone more steady and reliable and responsible—someone like Cole, she thought with a hard swallow—well, that could have had a very different outcome.

Rejoining her, Cole glanced around the kitchen. “Is there anything else I can do for you before I go? Any more repairs you need seen to? It’s the least I can do in return for all the cat sitting you’re doing this week.”

She smiled. “No, that’s it, thanks.”

“You have food and supplies so you don’t have to go out this afternoon? The roads are still a mess.”

She patted his arm. “I’m good, Cole, thank you.”

He caught her hand in his, gave the fingers a little squeeze, then released her quickly and took a step back. “I’d better go, then. I have a conference call later this afternoon and I need to get ready for it.”

“You have a conference call on a Saturday afternoon?” she asked as she followed him into the living room.

He reached for his coat and hat. “Yeah. A lot going on with work this week. I’ll probably be tied up for a couple hours, but if you need anything don’t hesitate to let me know, okay?”

“I’ll be fine. Be careful walking home. I think we have enough snow angels out there.”

He made a face that drew a laugh from her. “I’ll watch my step.”

His faint smile fading, he paused with his hand on the doorknob, looking as though there was something on his mind. Her fingers laced tightly in front of her. She waited, but he remained silent.

His gaze lifted, locking with hers. Lost in his bottomless dark eyes, she stared back at him. It felt as though something important hovered between them, but she couldn’t quite figure out what it was. Something he wanted to say? To do? Something he was waiting for her to say or do?

“Call if you need me,” he said and opened the door. He was gone before she could even respond.

Biting her lip, she locked the door behind him, then crossed the room and sank onto the couch. Something had changed between her and Cole since she’d shared her news with him, she thought wistfully. She couldn’t define it, exactly. Cole certainly wasn’t showing disapproval. Just the opposite, in fact; he’d been supportive and considerate. He’d sounded sincere when he said he had faith in her. As the first of her friends she’d told, he’d reacted exactly the way she hoped they all would.

And yet, something was different. She could only describe it as an awareness she hadn’t acknowledged before. Whether it was only on her part, she couldn’t say, but what else could it be? Maybe it was all in her head. Maybe those wonky hormones and jumbled emotions were making her imagine things that weren’t real. Whatever the reason, she had to get a grip. She’d made quite a few foolish mistakes in the past few months, but she would never do anything that would put her treasured friendship with Cole at risk.

* * *

Her phone rang some three hours after Cole left. Looking away from the kitchen design on her computer monitor, she glanced at the ID screen on her phone. She smiled when she saw Cole’s name. Was he checking on her again already? Very sweet, but she’d have to convince him she was fine so he would stop worrying about her. It hadn’t helped, of course, that she’d blubbered all over him last night, she thought with a wince.

With that embarrassing memory in mind, she answered cheerily. “Hi, Cole. What’s up?”

“Just letting you know I’m going to have to catch a plane to Chicago first thing in the morning.”

She frowned. “I thought you weren’t leaving until later in the week.”

“So did I. But the conference call I mentioned was a nightmare. I have to go sort out some stuff. And try not to knock heads together while I’m there,” he finished grimly.

She giggled, but a bit wistfully. He’d only just gotten back from the last trip. She wished he didn’t have to go again so soon. She was sure he felt the same way, though probably not for the same reasons. “I’ll take good care of Dusty.”

“You always do. I’m pretty sure you’re her favorite person. Which I understand completely,” he added, and she could hear the smile in his voice now.

“Why, thank you, kind sir.”

His low chuckle rumbled pleasantly in her ear. “The roads should be much better tomorrow, but don’t take any chances, okay? Be careful.”

“I will. You do the same.”

She set her phone aside with a little sigh after they disconnected. She would miss him again. But maybe it would be good to have a little distance from him for a few days. She was quite sure everything would be back to normal—as much as possible considering the circumstances, anyway—once he returned.

* * *

It had been a long, frustrating day, but that wasn’t what kept Cole awake Tuesday night. Ultimately, the business problems had been settled to everyone’s satisfaction, and he would be able to return to Little Rock Thursday and get back to work in his much-preferred home office. So, it wasn’t the job that had him tossing and turning in the hotel bed, or that made him finally give up and move to the window to stare blankly out at the midnight Chicago skyline. His thoughts were several hundred miles away. With Stevie McLane, to be precise.

Even when he’d been immersed in discussions about figures and trends and mathematical models, he’d been aware of thoughts of her hovering at the back of his mind, ready to push to the forefront as soon as he was alone. It was rare that he allowed himself to be distracted from work, but he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Stevie since she’d confided her pregnancy to him Friday night. He’d acknowledged privately that Stevie had been in his thoughts increasingly often during the past months, but even more so this week.

Something she’d said Saturday kept replaying in his mind. I’ve always thought if I ever had a kid, I’d give him or her the one thing missing from my own otherwise happy childhood. A dad.

A brainstorm had occurred to him in the middle of that night, and he’d been pondering it ever since, giving it his usual thorough contemplation of all potential consequences. He still had nagging doubts about whether he was qualified to even make the offer, considering the poor example his own father had set, but he’d decided he should at least discuss the idea with Stevie.

He wasn’t sure which possible outcome unnerved him most. That she would turn him down...or that she would accept.

He turned away from the window and padded back over to the tousled bed. He always kept a few interesting nonfiction books on his tablet. Maybe if he read awhile, he’d lull himself to sleep. Reaching out to turn on the bedside lamp, he muttered a curse when he knocked his wallet off the nightstand. He reached down to scoop it up and it fell open in his hands. He started to close it when something made him pause. Very slowly, he reached into the back of the wallet and drew out a small photograph with worn edges.

He’d once commented to Natasha that she had the face of a Renaissance Madonna. She’d laughed and told him not to be silly, but that hadn’t changed the fact that she could have posed for one of those famous paintings. Framed by straight, dark hair, her oval face had been delicate, her skin a flawless olive. Her dark hazel eyes had been striking in their intensity and clarity, making him feel at times as though she could see right into him. Despite that serene exterior, she’d had a warrior spirit, refusing to accept the health issues that had eventually led to her death. She’d made plans for a long marriage, for a career, for a family. She’d clung to those dreams until the very end of her life.

He ran his fingertips slowly across the face in the photo. Natasha had been gone five years, leaving him a widower before he’d turned thirty. She wouldn’t have wanted him to spend the rest of his life alone. But still, he felt a niggle of remorse whenever he envisioned himself having all the things she had wanted so badly and would never have.

She would understand, he told himself, sliding the photo back into place. She’d have liked Stevie, though they had little in common other than kind hearts and innate optimism. Natasha would certainly understand his compulsion to offer assistance to a valued friend, someone in a difficult situation. She had once described him as a compulsive caregiver.

His growing attraction to Stevie during the past year had made him both uncomfortable and vaguely guilty, despite his assurances of what Tasha would have wanted for him. He’d thought it a futile fantasy, a sometimes-lonely bachelor’s natural infatuation for a desirable and fascinating woman. But now Stevie’s circumstances had taken a daunting turn. And he’d promised her she wouldn’t be alone.

Maybe he could give Stevie what he had failed to provide for Natasha no matter how hard he’d tried, he thought bleakly, tossing the wallet aside. Moving to stare out the window again, he wished he could erase the nagging apprehension that he didn’t have enough to offer.

* * *

After several business meetings Monday and another appointment with her obstetrician Tuesday, Stevie spent Wednesday evening relaxing with her friends Jenny Locke and Tess Miller for an ever-more-rare girls’ night out. In addition to their changing personal lives, all of them stayed busy with their successful careers. Jenny owned two fashion and accessories boutiques and planned to open another within the next year. Tess was the office manager for her fiancé’s thriving commercial construction company. Stevie’s kitchen design business was growing increasingly in demand due to recommendations from her satisfied customers. It was getting harder all the time to find a night when all three were free, but they made an effort to nurture the friendship that meant so much to all of them.

They enjoyed gathering occasionally at Jenny’s boutique, Complements, after business hours. With no other customers in the store, Stevie and Tess could try on new outfits, play with the latest bags and jewelry and supplement their wardrobes with the “friends and family discount” Jenny always extended to them. Tonight they huddled around a counter spread with magazines, photographs and fabric samples Tess had brought with her. Two computer tablets lay amongst the clutter, different bridal websites displayed on the screens.

“So, we all agree?” Tess asked. “We like these colors? Poppy red and pale yellow? And what about the bridesmaids’ dresses? Is there any particular style you both prefer?”

Stevie bit her lip as she did a quick mental calculation. Tess’s wedding was scheduled for mid-June. Stevie would be seven months pregnant and sporting a big belly by then. It was time to come clean with her friends. She didn’t know why it was so much harder to confide in them than it had been with Cole. She was sure Jenny and Tess were going to be supportive, though she wouldn’t be surprised if tears were shed, and not all of them hers. She drew a deep breath.

“Hello?” Tess studied both Stevie and Jenny with a quizzical expression. “Neither of you is answering me. Which style do you like for the bridesmaids’ dresses?”

Jenny spoke before Stevie had a chance to share her news. “Um, Tess? If it’s okay with you, I think we should choose a loose, nonfitted style.”

Something in Jenny’s tone made both Stevie and Tess look at her curiously. Her expression made Stevie’s breath catch, and she heard Tess give a little squeak.

“Jen?” Tess’s voice was breathless with anticipation.

A shaky smile spread across Jenny’s beautiful face. “I’m pregnant.”

The words Stevie had been prepared to say lodged in her throat.

Jenny looked at Tess when she added, “I’m only four weeks along, so I’m a little nervous about even mentioning it yet. But with the wedding preparations moving along, and the need to order dresses soon, I thought you should know now.”

Tess squealed and reached out to her friend. Though usually the most exuberantly demonstrative of the trio, Stevie paused a beat before throwing herself into the group hug. She hoped her hesitation, if noticed, would be attributed to happy surprise.

Jenny was already answering a barrage of questions from Tess. Yes, she felt fine other than some morning nausea; yes, Gavin was super excited; yes, they’d told their families and everyone was thrilled.

Swiping at her damp cheeks, Tess beamed and started gathering the wedding materials. “All of this can wait. Let’s go to the restaurant next door and we can talk about your news over dinner. I want to hear how your mom and grandmother reacted. I know Gavin’s big family must have gone crazy. Do you know when you’ll start decorating the nursery? I bet Stevie can help you with that, can’t you, Stevie?”

“Well, I’m more comfortable with kitchens, but I’m sure I can come up with a few suggestions for decorating a nursery.” Stevie smiled brightly as she set her own momentous news aside for now. Jenny glowed with happiness about her pregnancy, and Tess was still eager to discuss the simple, but certain-to-be-beautiful wedding she was trying to put together quickly. This seemed entirely the wrong time to mention that she was already three months pregnant herself.

She hid her inner turmoil for the remainder of the evening behind mile-a-minute chatter and animated laughter, giving her friends little opportunity to ask anything personal of her. They had an absolutely delightful evening, yet Stevie had trouble fully enjoying it.

“I just couldn’t tell them,” she said to Cole the next afternoon, restlessly pacing her living room. “Jenny was so happy to make her announcement—and very nervous that it’s still early so something could yet go wrong. And Tess is focusing on her wedding arrangements. She’s seeing everything through orange blossom-colored lenses right now. If I’d told them my situation, they’d have started worrying about me and obsessing about my situation rather than their own excitement and I didn’t want our special evening to veer off into that direction last night, so I—”

“Breathe, Stevie.” Watching her from an armchair, Cole broke in to interrupt the rush of words she’d been holding in for hours. His deep voice was a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. “You’ll hyperventilate.”

He’d arrived only a few minutes earlier to let her know he was back in town and thank her, as he always did, for taking care of Dusty while he was gone. Stevie had barely waited until he was seated before she’d started pacing and venting to the only person who truly understood what she’d been going through recently.

She inhaled deeply. Staying busy with work, she’d held herself together pretty well since she’d parted from her friends last night with warm hugs and too-bright smiles, but just seeing Cole on her doorstep had brought her emotions dangerously close to the surface again. She paused in front of him, pushed her hair from her face with both hands and managed a smile of sorts.

“Sorry. I don’t mean to keep unloading all my problems on you. It’s your fault for being such a good listener,” she added, trying to lighten the mood with teasing.

“I don’t mind,” he assured her, and made her believe him. “Actually, I’ve given your situation a great deal of thought, and I have some suggestions for you, if you’re interested in hearing them.”

He looked so solemn that she had to smile despite her agitation. “You’ve given this careful consideration, have you?”

His lips twitched. “I’ve analyzed the data you presented to me and I would like to suggest some viable alternatives for your consideration.”

She chuckled in response to his self-mocking expression, then grew serious again. “That’s very sweet of you, but I’m sure I’ll work out a plan of some sort.”

His faint smile vanished. “You’re stressed, and that’s not good for either you or the baby. I understand why you were reluctant to talk to your girlfriends last night, under the circumstances, and apparently you aren’t quite ready to turn to your family. But I’m your friend, too, and I’m here for you. This is what I do, you know. I look at all the angles of a problem and identify solutions.”

She twisted a shoulder-length curl around her finger in her habitual nervous gesture. “I know you’re a genius at your work. But I’m not sure my current situation is in your wheelhouse.”

“Not exactly, but I’d like to try to help. I made a few notes.” He reached into his shirt pocket, drawing out his ever-present, tablet-sized smartphone. He pushed a button, then studied the words on the screen intently.

Seriously? He’d made notes? Was this the cutest thing ever?

“You said you didn’t want to raise your child without a father. Is there any chance the biological father will change his mind about being involved?”

“None,” she said with absolute certainty, amusement evaporating. “He made that very clear.”

Cole nodded, then moved on to his next point. “You said you worried about keeping your business afloat, both financially and logistically, while juggling maternity leave and infant care.”

“That will be a challenge,” she admitted, twisting the curl more tightly. “I’ve already started saving as much as I can stash away and I’m trying to keep my calendar organized around my due date.”

“You’re going to need help,” he said bluntly. “I believe there’s an obvious solution. The ideal option is for you to marry someone who likes and wants kids. Someone who can help you with the myriad daily responsibilities of raising a child and running a successful business.”

Taken aback, she shook her head in bemusement. This was the strategy Cole thought was obvious? That she should simply find someone to marry before her baby’s arrival?

“Cole, that’s—”

He seemed intent on quickly spelling out his reasoning. “You said you’re done with unstable romances. I’m of the opinion, myself, that marriages built on practical foundations are more sustainable than those based on fantasy and infatuation. My parents, for example, married in a youthful whirlwind romance that ended in a bitter and acrimonious divorce. Both wed for the second time for far more sensible purposes and those marriages have been much more successful.”

“You’re suggesting I should marry a friend to help me raise my child?”

Cole nodded, looking for all the world as if his improbable conclusion made perfect sense. He set aside the phone. “It’s the ideal solution.”

She gave him a quizzical smile. “So, are you offering to marry me, Cole?”

His look of surprise almost made her laugh again. He must not have realized how his suggestion could be interpreted, she mused in fond indulgence.

“I thought you understood,” he said, his expression very earnest now. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

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