Книга - Groom On The Loose

Groom On The Loose
Christine Scott


GROOM ON THE LOOSEDr. Greg Lawton was a man used to getting what he wanted. So when his would-be bride left him high and dry, he was mad…really mad.BRIDESMAID ON THE WARPATHCassie Andrews couldn't believe it–Mr. Blond and Perfect actually had the nerve to blame her for wrecking his wedding plans. And now he insisted she pose as his girlfriend for some highfalutin shindig at his home!AND A BABY ON THE WAY?When Cassie showed up on Greg's doorstep with a tiny blond baby in tow, neighbors' tongues began to wag. Everyone thought he was the father of her child! And Cassie was horrified to realize she was enjoying the charade. Could she really be falling for Mr. Impossible?









Table of Contents


Cover Page (#u962680c3-1ed2-5f35-a802-eba5ea0e893c)

Excerpt (#u721e1f69-9346-5c00-9765-8c155d1ae35c)

Dear Reader (#u215426b1-43f4-5d04-8b83-6e79a6355abd)

Title Page (#u438d88ab-7a69-574c-8fd0-967bf517d453)

Dedication (#u333d7f3f-3ab6-5115-90f0-6270313ae163)

About the Author (#u82f7dfb4-197a-5d46-b561-bdf6af078908)

Prologue (#u2983f41a-6907-50ce-81ab-5375c85c40f8)

Chapter One (#u5eb38763-5df5-5010-a959-87c0d9550666)

Chapter Two (#u44afc21b-b1bb-59cd-9c39-8243055e9a50)

Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)




“I know what you’re going to say. I’m late.”


Cassie stepped inside, brushing past Greg. “I’m sorry. I have a doozy of an excuse.”



The skirt of her yellow sundress swirled around her long legs; her silky blond hair swung from side to side. She looked perfect, ready to play the role of his hostess. Ready, that is, except for the baby in her arms.



“Did the caterers arrive on time?” she called over her shoulder.



“Cassie—”



“What about the decorations?”



“Cassie,” he said, more loudly this time. “You have a baby.”



“That’s right,” she said. “But don’t worry. Nothing is going to interfere with my hostessing duties—”



“Cassie,” he said, interrupting her again. “Whose baby is it?”



She bit her lip, looking uncertain. “Well, I suppose…she’s mine.”



Cassie? A mother? The thought sent a shiver down Greg’s spine. “Cassie…what have you gotten yourself into this time?”


Dear Reader (#ulink_f54a2213-0d3f-5f9c-b036-4a9be9f6cde2),

This month Silhouette Romance has six irresistible novels for you, starting with our FABULOUS FATHERS selection, Mad for the Dad by Terry Essig. When a sexy single man becomes an instant dad to a toddler, the independent divorcée next door offers parenthood lessons—only to. dream of marriage and motherhood all over again!

In Having Gabriel’s Baby by Kristin Morgan, our BUNDLES OF JOY book, a fleeting night of passion with a handsome, brooding rancher leaves Joelle in the family way—and the dad-to-be insisting on a marriage of convenience for the sake of the baby….

Years ago Julie had been too young for the dashing man of her dreams. Now he’s back in town, and Julie’s still hoping he’ll make her his bride in New Year’s Wife by Linda Varner, part of her miniseries HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS.

What’s a man to do when he has no interest in marriage but is having trouble resisting the lovely, warm and wonderful woman in his life? Get those cold feet to the nearest wedding chapel in Family Addition by Rebecca Daniels.

In About That Kiss by Jayne Addison, Joy Mackey, sister of the bride, is sure her sis’s ex-fiancé has returned to sabotage the wedding. But his intention is to walk down the aisle with Joy!

And finally, when a woman shows up on a bachelor doctor’s doorstep with a baby that looks just like him, everyone in town mistakenly thinks the tiny tot is his in Christine Scott’s Groom on the Loose.

Enjoy!



Melissa Senate, Senior Editor

Please address questions and book requests to: Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3




Groom on the Loose

Christine Scott







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To Ginger Goodell, a good friend and fellow writer.




CHRISTINE SCOTT


grew up in Illinois but currently lives in St. Louis, Missouri. A former teacher, she now writes full-time. When she isn’t writing romances, she spends her time caring for her husband and three children. In between car pools, baseball games and dance lessons, Christine always finds time to pick up a good book and read about…love. She loves to hear from readers. Write to her at Box 283, Grover, MO 63040-0283.




Prologue (#ulink_fb0cc25e-3613-54a6-95d5-f754f93a8e64)


“Dr. Lawton. How may I help you?”

The deep baritone sent a chill traveling down Cassie Andrews’s spine—a chill as sharp as the frosty November wind whipping against her apartment window. Her grip tightened reflexively around the telephone receiver.

“Uh, Greg. This is Cassie.” Her chest tightened, the words catching in her throat. She swallowed hard, giving herself a moment to calm her frazzled nerves. A hopeless feat, she realized. In all her life, she’d never been faced with a more daunting task.

“Cassie?” He sounded surprised and, she had to admit, none too pleased.

She didn’t blame him. She and Greg Lawton weren’t exactly friends. Sparring partners would be a more apt description of their relationship. They weren’t in the habit of making social calls.

“Do you have a minute, Greg? There’s something I need to discuss with you.”

A slight pause. She could almost hear him grimacing across the phone line. “I’m late for rounds at the hospital. Make it quick.”

Greg was a pediatrician. A very noble profession, indeed. But that hardly gave him license for rudeness. Cassie narrowed her blue eyes. A scathing retort lay on the tip of her tongue. Until she remembered the reason for her call.

“This won’t take long,” she said, forcing an even tone. “It’s about Niki.”

“Niki? What about Niki?” His tone shifted, becoming suddenly alert. “Is something wrong? Is she all right?”

Cassie closed her eyes against the concern shadowing his voice. Niki Adams was Cassie’s best friend. She was also Greg’s former fiancée. Obviously, she was a woman he still cared about a great deal. Telling him the news was going to be like yanking his heart out and stepping on it.

“Niki’s fine. Just fine,” she said, struggling to find the right words. There were none, she decided. Cassie gave a silent moan of frustration. How do you tell a man that the woman he intended to marry has just eloped with someone else?

“Look, Greg. The thing is…Niki’s married.”

Dead silence greeted her announcement. Then, finally, “What did you say?”

The hollow, empty sound of his voice sent an arrow of regret to her heart. For hours she had debated the wisdom of calling Greg with the news of Niki’s elopement, knowing it would be a shock. Especially coming from her, someone he disliked with a vengeance. In the end she’d decided it best that Greg find out from someone he knew, rather than from the gossips on the street of their hometown of Webster Groves, Missouri. Now she wasn’t so sure.

She drew in a breath of courage. “Niki married Jack Sinclair yesterday in Chicago.”

The silence was palpable.

“Greg, I’m sorry.”

“Are you really?”

She blinked at his angry tone. “Of course I am. I know how painful this must be. I feel terrible—”

“So terrible that you couldn’t wait to call me with the news.” His bitter laugh sent warning signals tripping through her mind. “Admit it, Cassie, you called just to rub it in.”

“Rub it in?” Her spine stiffened as anger kicked in. “Now look, Lawton. I called out of the goodness of my heart as a favor—”

“A favor?” His voice thundered over the phone line. “If this is your idea of a favor, Cassie, I’d hate to be around when you’re feeling vindictive.”

“Vindictive?” She gasped, outraged. “I don’t have a vindictive bone in my body.”

“Right. And I suppose you want me to believe you weren’t turning handsprings when Niki decided to break off our engagement.”

Her fingers ached from the death grip she had on the phone. “Niki’s my friend,” she said primly. “I support any decision she makes.”

“Just like you supported her during our engagement.”

Heat flushed her face, a reaction she attributed to anger, not guilt. Back off, the little voice of reason warned her. Now wasn’t the time for an argument with Greg. He was in a highly emotional state. And, to be truthful, the state of her own emotions wasn’t very predictable, either. It wouldn’t take much to set off a shouting match.

She’d accomplished what she’d set out to do. She’d told Greg of Niki’s elopement. It was time to say her goodbyes and hang up the phone with her pride and her tempter intact.

The words sounded good. The advice logical. Only, emotion overrode her common sense. Greg Lawton was so annoying she just couldn’t allow him the last word.

“I encouraged Niki to follow her heart. I can’t help it if Niki’s heart wanted Jack Sinclair and not you.”

Cassie bit her lip, wishing she could take back the hurtful words as soon as she spoke them. She didn’t know what it was about Greg Lawton, but for some reason he’d always had a knack for bringing out the worst in her.

“Look, Cassie. The next time you get the urge to do me any more favors…don’t.”

A sharp click sounded, followed closely by the buzz of a disconnected phone line.

Cassie yanked the receiver from her ear. She stared at the hissing mouthpiece, unable to believe what had just happened. The nerve of the man! In an undeserved show of friendship, she had called Greg to break the news of his ex-fiancée’s elopement. And the ungrateful cad had the gall to hang up on her.

“That does it,” she announced to the empty living room, slamming the phone back onto its cradle. She narrowed her eyes. “That’s the last time I’ll ever do another favor for Greg Lawton.”

* * *

Greg hung up the phone, clinging to the remnants of anger as though it were a lifeline. Better to feel anger, he told himself, than to let any other emotion inside…like pain.

Niki was married? To Jack Sinclair?

Jack Sinclair of all people, a man Greg had always considered a lifetime rival. And so soon after Niki had ended their own engagement. Greg tightened his fingers into white-knuckled fists of frustration. How would he ever live down the humiliation?

But then again, he’d spent most of his growing years trying to live down one of life’s humiliations or another.

Bitterness threatened to usurp his anger. Greg surged to his feet, his desk chair spinning out behind him. He strode to the window, lifted the slats of the miniblinds and stared out of his office at the view overlooking the tree-lined streets of Webster Groves.

Denuded of their leaves, the trees looked stark, barren, like his heart. He’d lived in Webster Groves all his life. A stone’s throw from the city limits of St. Louis, it had the feel of a small town, yet all the conveniences of urban living. He couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. With its large yards and big, old houses, Webster Groves was the perfect place to raise a family.

A family, he mused bitterly, that elusive but persistent dream. He thought he’d found a chance at achieving that dream with Niki.

He’d been wrong.

Greg set his jaw against the rising tide of self-pity. He reached a hand and snapped the blinds closed. Striding to his desk, he busied himself with stacking patient files into neat piles. He’d chased after enough dreams for one lifetime. He wasn’t going to waste his time wishing for the impossible.

He had to face the facts.

Niki would have made the perfect doctor’s wife. She was beautiful, sweet natured and socially adept. Only now she was married to Jack Sinclair. A lawyer, for God’s sake.

Anger dug its icy fingers into his chest, nearly forcing the breath from his lungs. Greg slammed a file onto the desktop. Get over it, Lawton, he chided himself. Brooding over what could have been was pointless.

He welcomed a new surge of anger as his thoughts returned to Cassie Andrews.

What was the saying—don’t shoot the messenger? Well, at the moment, that was exactly what he wanted to do.

“A favor,” he harrumphed disdainfully. That’s what she’d called her little phone call.

Greg knew better. Cassie had never kept her dislike for him a secret. He frowned. For that matter, he hadn’t exactly been discreet when it came to his true feelings for her, either. So it didn’t surprise him that she’d seized an opportunity to serve yet another blow to his already wounded pride.

The woman had no conscience.

Cassie and Niki were best friends. During his brief engagement to Niki, he’d had to endure Cassie’s constant presence. If there was any good to come of his broken engagement to Niki, it was the fact that he’d never have to see Cassie Andrews again.

For the first time that day, Greg almost smiled.




Chapter One (#ulink_9dbcb770-d6fb-5a4c-97cd-2ed9533ea8fb)


Eight months later

The front doorbell chimed, announcing a new arrival at the offices of The Talk of the Town, a party planning service owned and operated by Cassie Andrews.

Cassie glanced at her wristwatch and frowned. Her one o’clock appointment was early. She heard voices coming from the front office. Her receptionist/secretary/all-around girl Friday’s voice she recognized. The other, a deep baritone, sounded vaguely familiar.

Definitely not her one o’clock appointment, she decided. Naomi Jacobs, her scheduled client, wished to discuss plans for her niece’s bridal shower. This visitor was undoubtedly all male.

“Cassie?” Her receptionist, dark-haired and petite, with pixielike features, stood in the doorway of her office, looking anxious.

“Yes, Mitsi?”

“There’s someone outside insisting on seeing you. He doesn’t have an appointment, but he says you know him. Dr. Lawton? A Dr. Greg Lawton?”

Cassie’s breath caught. Greg Lawton? He was the last person she’d ever expected to darken her door. She remembered their last encounter, the time she’d called him to tell him about Niki and Jack Sinclair’s elopement. She hadn’t seen Greg since he’d had the nerve to hang up on her.

“Cassie?”

Cassie blinked, glancing up at her friend. “Hmm?”

“What do you want me to do with Dr. Lawton?”

A number of vile things came to mind. All of which Cassie quickly squelched. Contrary to what Greg Lawton believed, she wasn’t a vindictive woman. She wasn’t one to hold grudges.

“Give me a moment. Then send him in.”

Mitsi left and Cassie scrambled to clear her desk. Not that she cared what Greg thought of her office, she told herself, as she shoved a handful of papers into her desk drawer. His opinion didn’t matter to her one way or another.

In the past eight months since she and Greg had gratefully parted ways, she’d concentrated her time and effort on starting her own business. Thanks to a lot of hard work and diligence, The Talk of the Town was a growing success, which didn’t leave her a lot of time to organize her desk.

Most times, the clutter didn’t bother her or her clients. Her customers hired her for her creativity, not her neatness. But today, with someone as intimidating as Greg Lawton looming outside her door, she wanted to put her best foot forward.

Her elbow caught the edge of the desk blotter, sending the stapler bouncing off her desk. Cassie scooted her chair back and bent to retrieve the recalcitrant object. She stopped midstretch as she came nose to toe with a pair of shiny black loafers.

A prickling of awareness skittered up her spine. Slowly she lifted her gaze, catching a glimpse of long, muscular legs, clad in a pair of perfectly creased, charcoal gray slacks. She took in the trim waist, the flat stomach and the broad shoulders and felt her mouth go dry. His pale blue, buttoned-down shirt brought out the highlights of his baby blue eyes. The office’s fluorescent light glinted off his thick sandy hair. And his lips were pressed into a firm line of disapproval.

Heartbreak had been kind to Greg Lawton, she decided grudgingly. Hard as it was to believe, he’d grown even more handsome over the past few months. Once she’d likened him to a modern day Dr. Kildare; so cool, so collected—so perfect—that whenever she saw him she wanted to run up to him and muss up his hair.

Perfection was just one of Greg’s many faults. His condescending attitude was another. Whenever he was near, Cassie felt as though she should apologize for all her shortcomings—whatever they may be. He had an uncanny knack for making her feel lacking in some way.

“Greg,” she said, rising to greet him. “This is a surprise.”

“I’m sure it is,” he returned evenly. His mouth tightened around a polite smile. “Do you have a moment? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

The words held a familiar ring, striking Cassie with an unexpected feeling of déjà vu. They’d had this conversation before. Only, the last time, she’d been the one asking for a moment of his time. A request that had been met with rudeness.

Giving the good doctor a taste of his own bitter medicine, she glanced at her wristwatch. “I’ve got an appointment in fifteen minutes. Make it quick.”

His smile faded. “That’s what I like about you, Cassie. Your directness.”

She raised her chin. “Funny, I didn’t think there was anything you liked about me.”

“You’re right.”

Cassie put a loose rein on her growing anger. “Obviously this isn’t a social call. So why don’t you cut the chitchat and get to the point of your visit?”

A scowl creased his perfect brow. He shifted uncomfortably, one foot to the other. “The reason I’m here…” He stopped, swearing softly beneath his breath.

Cassie eyed him warily. For the first time in all the years she’d known him, Greg actually looked nervous. The thought brought a smile to her lips.

“Yes, Greg?” she prompted.

At her amused tone, his gaze hardened. Without further delay he said, “The reason I’m here is to ask a favor. I need your help, dammit.”



Greg watched with growing irritation as slowly, ever so slowly, an amused expression stole across Cassie’s face. Amusement at his expense, he realized. It took all his willpower not to turn around and walk out of her office.

“I don’t think I quite understood,” she said, her smile sweet and sassy. “Would you mind repeating that, please?”

Greg scowled. “You heard me. I need your help.”

“That’s what I thought you said.” Her smile deepened. “I just wanted to be certain. Because asking for my help is the last thing I’d ever expect to hear coming from your lips.”

Her impudent tone proved to be the last straw. “Obviously this was a mistake.” Salvaging what little pride he had left, Greg turned to leave.

She reached a staying hand. Her palm felt smooth, warm against his forearm. The contact sent an electrical current of awareness traveling up his arm, shocking him.

“Don’t go,” she said, seeming oblivious to his reaction. “You have no idea how much I want to hear the rest of what you have to say.”

He searched her face for the truth and, unfortunately, found nothing but sincerity hidden in the depths of her dark blue eyes. She was loving every moment of his discomfort. He shifted his stance, forcing her to drop her hand.

Cassie motioned to a nearby chair. “Have a seat.”

Reluctantly he sat down in the proffered chair, unable to stop himself from watching as Cassie took her own seat. With a fluid, catlike grace, she crossed her legs and smoothed a hand against the pleats of her white skirt. Greg gave himself a firm mental shake. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d been without a woman in his life too long if Cassie Andrews could cause his libido to trip out of control.

She raised a golden brow. “Exactly what kind of help do you need, Greg?”

“A party,” he said, wincing as his voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “I’ve been given the job of hosting the clinic’s annual office party in three weeks.”

She smiled at him. “See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Her placating tone grated against his nerves. “Look, do you think you can handle the job or not?”

“My being able to handle the job isn’t the question. Whether or not I should is a whole other matter.”

“I don’t understand.”

She tucked a strand of long blond hair behind her ear and looked him directly in the eye. “Let’s be honest, Greg. We don’t like each other. I find it difficult to believe that you’d trust me enough to plan your party.”

“Not plan, exactly,” he muttered.

She frowned. “Excuse me?”

“I need more than a party planner,” he said, running a finger beneath his collar. “I need a hostess.”

“I see.”

From the confused look in her eyes, Greg knew she didn’t see. Hell, he didn’t even understand why he’d sought out her services. But instinct told him she was the only one who could help him. He might not trust Cassie, but he always trusted his instincts.

He took a deep breath. “Look, the thing is, I want you to host the party. Only I’d rather not have anyone know I hired you for the job.”

Cassie didn’t say a word. She simply stared at him, as an uncomfortable silence stretched between them. With each passing second, Greg felt the tension build inside him.

“Let me get this straight,” she said finally, leaning back in her chair. “You want me to plan your party, organize it and host it, but not tell anyone I’m being paid for my services.”

Second thoughts gripped him. It had sounded good in the planning stage. But now, spelled out in Cassie’s disbelieving tone, it sounded like an insane idea. His throat tightened, closing up on him. Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded his reply.

She looked puzzled. “Why?”

“Why not?”

She shook her head. “Word of mouth has been one of my best sources of advertisement. Do you realize how much business I could be missing out on with this one party? We’re talking about doctors and their wives, Greg. They’d make great clients.”

Irritation flared in his chest. He didn’t appreciate his profession being lumped into a category solely on the basis of its spending potential. “I don’t care if you tell my guests what you do for a living. I just don’t want you to tell them you’re doing it for me.”

Her frown deepened. “It doesn’t make sense, Greg. Nobody’s going to believe that a mere acquaintance would host your party.”

“I don’t want you to be an acquaintance,” he mumbled, averting his gaze. “I want you to be my date.”

Silence greeted his announcement. One second, two seconds, three, then—the worst happened. She burst out laughing. Great big, tummy-shaking guffaws of amusement, all directed at him.

Greg’s temper simmered beneath the abuse.

“I’m sorry, Greg,” she said, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye. Her voice trembled with lingering amusement. “For a minute there, I thought you were serious.”

“I am serious,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Look, Greg,” she said, sobering slightly. “Obviously you need help. A great deal of help. But to be honest, there isn’t enough money in the world to make me pretend to be your girlfriend.”

“You owe me, Cassie,” he said quietly, his tone dark and forbidding.

The bemused expression faded. Emotion glinted in her eyes. This time her voice shook with outrage. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I don’t owe you a dime.”

Greg surged to his feet. “I’m not talking about money. I’m talking about my life.”

The words boomed across the tiny office.

Cassie stared at him, her eyes wide, her mouth agape.

In the room next door, her secretary stopped typing.

Heat suffused his face. Common sense told him to walk away, to let go of his anger and the past. But pride wouldn’t allow him to forget. He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be in this mess. If you hadn’t interfered, Niki and I would be married and planning this party together.”

“You still blame me for Niki’s breaking off your engagement?”

“Damn right, I do. You’re Niki’s best friend. Your opinions have always had a strong influence on her.”

“Not that strong,” she snapped. “When are you going to get it through that thick head of yours, Lawton? Niki’s a grown woman who’s more than capable of making her own decisions. She never was the breakable china doll you always assumed her to be.”

The words cut him to the quick, wounding his male pride. He lashed out at her in kind. “Are you telling me you didn’t try to discourage Niki from marrying me?”

She didn’t respond. Her wordless answer spoke volumes.

He gave a bitter smile. “That’s what I thought.”

She folded her hands primly on top of her desk and met his gaze head-on. “This whole conversation is pointless. Your engagement to Niki is over. Why do you insist on dwelling on the past?”

“Because the past has a way of grabbing you by the throat and not letting go,” he hollered. “Do you have any idea what my life’s been like these past few months?”

She frowned, opening her mouth to answer.

Only he didn’t give her the chance. “It’s been a living hell. Speculation over my broken heart has been the grist that’s kept this town’s gossip mills churning. I’ve endured the pitying looks, the sympathetic words. I’ve even tolerated the old ladies from the neighborhood who want to mother me. They ply me with cookies and cakes one minute, and try to fix me up with their granddaughters the next.”

The anger level of his voice rose with each word he spoke. But, once vented, nothing could stop the flow of frustration. “And now my colleagues at the clinic are encouraging me to get on with my life. They have some insane notion that my patients and their parents would feel more comfortable with a pediatrician who’s happily married with a family of his own.”

He paused to draw in a ragged breath. He felt winded, without having exerted himself. The strength seemed to have gone out of his legs. His exhaustion was an emotional state, he realized, not a physical one. He’d just revealed his innermost feelings to Cassie Andrews, a woman he barely trusted, let alone cared enough about to confide in.

Greg sat down hard in the chair he’d recently abandoned. Oddly enough, despite the weariness that seemed to have crept over his extremities, he felt as though a weight had been lifted from his heart. Purging himself of months of pent-up anger had had an emancipating effect.

“Is that what you want?” she asked, breaking into his troubled thoughts. “To be happily married?”

“Hell, no,” he bit out. “I want to be left alone. I want to get all these helpful people off my back.”

“And you think you’ll accomplish that by hiring me to be your ’girlfriend’?”

He averted his gaze, refusing to look at her. “It would be a start.”

Silence strained between them. Cassie’s tone was quieter, gentler when she spoke again. “Greg, I know you don’t want to believe me, but I truly am sorry for what happened between you and Niki.”

He’d heard the same words said a hundred times in the past eight months. Somehow, hearing them from Cassie only made him feel worse. “I don’t need your pity.”

“No, but you need my help. That is, if you still want it.”

In one way or another, women had caused him nothing but trouble these past few months. He’d just as soon give up on the entire gender. Unfortunately, at the moment, he didn’t have much of a choice but to accept Cassie’s offer.

He sighed. “I still want your help.”

“Fine, then it’s settled,” she said, her tone clipped and businesslike. “I warn you, my service doesn’t come cheap. It’ll cost you.”

It already has, he admitted silently. “Coming from you, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

He stood to leave.

This time she didn’t protest.

She rose to her feet. For a moment neither of them moved or spoke. In the small office, they stood within inches of touching. Up close he couldn’t help but notice the delicate beauty of her face, the silky texture of her blond hair and the slender curves of her body. Though she stood at chin level to his six feet three inches, she seemed smaller somehow, more vulnerable.

The thought surprised him. Vulnerability was not a trait he would normally associate with Cassie Andrews. A pampered beauty, yes. But never a shrinking violet.

“I’ll be in touch,” he said, anxious to leave.

She forced a smile. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

A lie if he’d ever heard one. He almost smiled.

He turned to leave.

“Greg…”

He stopped, glancing over his shoulder at her.

“About Niki…” For once she seemed hesitant, uncertain. “There are a lot of other women out there. Did you ever stop to consider, maybe she just wasn’t the right one?”

“Not for a minute,” he said, with a confidence he didn’t really feel. With that, he left her office and didn’t look back.

* * *

Three weeks later Cassie stood in her office’s storage room, knee-deep in preparations for Greg Lawton’s party. Why she’d ever agreed to host his party as his “girlfriend” was beyond her. Guilt, she supposed, had played a major factor in her decision. Somehow he’d gotten to her. Those eyes, she decided, those vulnerable blue eyes. She’d always been a sucker for a man with a pair of baby blues.

It didn’t seem fair that someone as irritating as Greg Lawton should have been blessed with such soulful eyes. They were windows to every emotion he tried so hard to hide. Three weeks ago she’d been on the brink of telling Greg exactly what he could do with the guilt trip he’d been trying to force upon her. But then she’d looked into his eyes and seen the pain hidden beneath the anger. Cassie sighed. And that was why she was stuck hosting a party for a man who gave new meaning to the word perfectionism.

Since their initial meeting, Greg had called her daily with helpful suggestions. From the practical to the mundane, he had an opinion on everything. She’d begun dreading the sound of a ringing telephone. Only one thought sustained her. After tomorrow, she’d never have to see Greg Lawton again. Any wrong she might have done him—real or imagined—would be wiped away with this “favor” she’d agreed to do. The slate between them would be clean.

“I can’t find the napkins,” Mitsi announced, demanding Cassie’s attention.

“They’ve got to be here,” Cassie said, wading through boxes of supplies. “I know we ordered them.”

Mitsi pulled open a lid. “Wait, here they are. Ten blue-and-white-checked tablecloths with fifty matching napkins.”

Cassie made a check on the inventory list. “All right, now about the decorations—”

The telephone rang.

Her stomach clenched reflexively. It couldn’t be…surely not…she stared at the phone in dismay. She swore that if it was Greg calling again she’d scream.

Mitsi, surrounded by boxes, shot her a helpless glance.

“Don’t move,” Cassie ordered. “I’ll get the phone.” She snatched the phone from its cradle. “The Talk of the Town, Cassie speaking.”

“Cassie Andrews?” an unfamiliar male voice asked.

“That’s right. May I help you?”

“Yes, I believe you may.” He sounded relieved. “My name is Howard Benning. I’m an attorney with the firm of Benning, Hart and Richland.”

Lawyers, Cassie thought to herself, made very good clients. They had little time and lots of money to spend. Her tone brightened appreciably. “Yes, Mr. Benning. How may I help you?”

“I need to meet with you as soon as possible, Ms. Andrews.”

Cassie glanced at her watch. It was late, nearly four o’clock. She still had to sort through the supplies for Greg’s party. “We’re closing soon, Mr. Benning. And tomorrow the office is closed. I could meet with you, say, Monday at nine o’clock.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Andrews. But that would be much too late.”

“I see,” Cassie said carefully. It wasn’t unusual for clients to call with last-minute party plans. As long as they had the money to spend, they expected her to perform miracles on short notice. “Mr. Benning, I’m sorry. But I’m already booked for the next couple of days. I don’t think I’d have time to help you with a party—”

“Oh, this isn’t about a party,” he assured her.

Cassie frowned. “It isn’t? I thought you said—”

“I need to meet with you concerning a legal matter.”

Her shoulders stiffened. Her tone became guarded. “Look, Mr. Benning. If you’re calling about that incident at the Blakewells’ house, I want to make it clear that I had nothing to do with the guard dogs getting loose. I was just there to host a party, not to baby-sit their killer mutts—”

“Let me assure you, Ms. Andrews, I know nothing about a Blakewell incident. I’m calling in regard to the estate of Melanie and John Reynolds.”

Her mind went blank. “Who?”

“Perhaps you are more familiar with Mrs. Reynolds’s maiden name, Melanie Greene. I believe she was a classmate of yours in college…”

Melanie Greene. A picture formed instantly in her mind. Melanie, a pretty brunette, with a sweet smile and a bashful personality. They’d shared a dorm room their freshman and sophomore years in college. Junior and senior year, they’d moved to an apartment. Cassie had been close to this soft-spoken woman, as close as a sister.

Cassie’s heart clutched. “Mr. Benning, did you say estate?”

“Yes, Ms. Andrews, I’m afraid so. I’m sorry to have to tell you this over the phone, but your friend and her husband died in an automobile accident nearly two weeks ago. Since they were living overseas at the time and there are no next of kin, we’ve had a difficult time tracking you down—”

The lawyer’s words brought another painful memory to mind. Melanie had been orphaned at the age of twelve. She’d spent her growing years in the foster care system. Melanie’s parentless state had drawn Cassie to her. They’d shared a common bond. While Cassie’s parents were alive and well, they’d had little time to spend with their only daughter.

“Oh my God,” Cassie murmured as the reality of the situation finally hit her. Her friend was dead. She’d never see her again. Cassie’s knees buckled. She sat down heavily on a nearby chair.

Mitsi glanced at her sharply. “Cassie, what is it?”

Cassie shook her head.

“I know this is a shock,” Mr. Benning said. “Again I must apologize for being unable to inform you of this tragedy in person.”

“Mr. Benning,” she said, the words sounding flat and lifeless. “What about Jessica, Melanie’s baby? Is she all right?”

Six months ago, when her friend had called with the news of her daughter’s birth, Cassie had promised to look after Jessica if anything ever happened to Melanie. Tears threatened. Who’d have ever thought the promise would become literal?

“Ms. Andrews, I’d rather not discuss this over the phone. It’s…complicated.” He sounded harried, though his tone was insistent. “This is an extremely delicate situation, one that needs to be resolved as soon as possible.”

Cassie rubbed her stinging eyes. “Very well, Mr. Benning. Tomorrow I have a party at noon. I could meet with you earlier in the morning. Say, ten o’clock.”

“That would be wonderful,” he said, his relief obvious.

After making plans to meet in the lobby of a downtown St. Louis hotel, Cassie slowly hung up the phone.

“Cassie, what’s wrong?” Mitsi asked, her concern obvious.

Tears blurred her vision. Cassie drew in a shaky breath. “I’ve just lost a good friend. A classmate of mine from college.”

“Aw, honey.” Mitsi made short the distance between them. In seconds Cassie was enfolded in a backthumping embrace.

Tears flowed freely now. She allowed herself a brief moment to lean on someone else’s shoulder. Soon, however, she struggled to pull herself together, uncomfortable with the show of emotion. “Look at me, blubbering like a baby.”

Mitsi tsked. “It’s okay to cry, Cassie. You need to grieve.”

“I don’t have time. I have a party to plan.” Cassie wiped away the lingering tears with the back of her hand. Experience had taught her that emotion led to vulnerability. Vulnerability led to heartbreak. She stood, picking up the inventory list. “Now, where were we?”

“Cassie, are you sure you’re up to this? Why don’t you go home? Let me handle the inventory.”

“I’m fine. I have to be,” she said firmly. “I promised Greg Lawton a perfect party. Nothing is going to stand in the way of my delivering it.”

Mitsi looked at her uncertainly, then shrugged. “Whatever you say, boss.”

Cassie followed her assistant to the boxes of party supplies. She felt the prickling of tears at the back of her eyes, but she refused to allow them freedom. She had a job to do. Once and for all she was going to prove her capabilities to her biggest skeptic…Greg Lawton.



The next morning Greg stood outside on his patio, sipping a cup of strong coffee and watching as two of Cassie’s workers set up tables in his backyard. He glanced at his watch. Almost ten o’clock and no sign of Cassie. Not that he expected her to be there at the crack of dawn. But a phone call assuring him of her imminent arrival would be a welcome relief.

A scowl touched his brow. Dammit, since when had he become so dependent upon a woman? The last time he’d made that mistake, it had led to nothing but heartache. He had no doubt Cassie would prove herself as unreliable as all the other women in his life. Perhaps even more so. He should be counting the hours until this “business arrangement” of theirs was over.

But he wasn’t. The thought of not seeing Cassie again left him feeling empty inside. As empty as this big, old house of his, the one he’d bought for Niki before she’d ended their engagement.

Greg took another swig of coffee, trying vainly to wash down the lump of emotion that seemed to have caught in his throat. The truth was he’d gotten used to Cassie, to calling her, seeing her. He’d grown accustomed to her voice. It was as smooth as silk and as sweet as honey. Except when she was irritated—which was more times than not.

A smile teased his lips. He had to admit, he liked watching that tiny crease, the one between her golden brows, form whenever she was angry. And he liked to watch her struggle to control her temper—and fail. The verbal battles he’d had with Cassie these past few weeks had taken his mind off his own problems.

He’d never felt better, more alive…in months.

The workers struggled with a table at the far corner of the yard, dropping their burden on the grass beneath the shading branches of a large pin oak tree.

“Are you sure that’s where the table’s supposed to go?” Greg called out to them.

One of the workers, a young man with a head of dark, curly hair, pulled a sheet of paper from the back pocket of his jeans and studied the paper with a frown. “Yes, sir. It says right here—table number four, under the oak tree. Cassie’s orders.”

Greg sighed. “Well, she should know.”

“Yes, sir,” the worker agreed. With a nod, he continued his job and ignored Greg.

Three weeks ago, Cassie had marched into his life—by his request, he reminded himself—and had turned it upside down. She’d gone through his house, inspected his bathrooms, measured his floor space and listed his home’s deficiencies. Like a drill sergeant, she’d taken control, giving orders and expecting him to follow them. And, by golly, he’d done exactly as he was told.

He’d put his complete trust in her.

He glanced at his watch again. He just hoped he wouldn’t be disappointed.



The lobby of the hotel was large, with high atrium ceilings and pink marble floors. Potted palms were scattered about, complementing the red and green furnishings in the lounge area where Cassie was to meet the lawyer, Mr. Benning.

She shot an impatient glance around the lobby, but saw no one resembling Mr. Benning, who had described himself as a middle-aged, slightly heavy, slightly balding lawyer.

Just when she was about to give up, a breathless voice sounded behind her. “Ms. Andrews?”

Cassie whirled around, spotting a short, pudgy man hurrying toward her. “Mr. Benning?”

He nodded as he removed a neatly pressed handkerchief from his breast pocket and mopped his perspiring hairless head. He’d exaggerated the slightly bald part, Cassie noted wryly. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said. “It was a difficult night.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Cassie murmured politely. It wasn’t unusual for a person to have problems adjusting to travel.

Mr. Benning glanced around the quiet lobby. He pointed to an empty set of table and chairs. “Why don’t we have a seat?”

Cassie led the way. She felt his assessing gaze follow her. Self-consciously, she tugged at the hem of her lemon yellow sundress. Not knowing how much time she’d have to spare, she’d come dressed for Greg’s party. Now she wished she’d worn something a bit more professional.

They took their seats and faced each other awkwardly across the table. Mr. Benning was the first to speak. “Ms. Andrews, once again, let me say how sorry I am for your loss. You and Mrs. Reynolds must have been close friends.”

Her throat tightened. Cassie nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The pain was still too fresh. She watched as Mr. Benning lifted a briefcase onto the tabletop. Locks snapped open, startling her. Cassie took a deep breath, willing her strained nerves to be calm.

“As I mentioned over the phone, our meeting is in regard to Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds’s estate.”

Cassie leaned forward in her seat. “Mr. Benning, I don’t care about the estate. I want to know about Jessica. Is she all right? I promised Melanie—” Her voice caught. She paused, allowing herself a moment to compose herself, then continued, “I need to be sure she’s taken care of.”

Mr. Benning gave her a considering glance. “Ms. Andrews, let me assure you, I believe Jessica will be in very good hands.” He pulled out a pair of glasses and perched them on the edge of his nose. Glancing at her over their rims, he said, “First of all, you’ve been named executor of the Reynolds’s estate.”

“Me?” Cassie asked, pointing a finger to her chest.

“That’s right.” He shuffled through a stack of papers. “You’ve also been named sole guardian of Jessica.”

“S-sole guardian?”

Mr. Benning nodded and handed her a pen. “As guardian you will assume full custody of Jessica. I’ll need your signature on these papers.”

Pen in hand, Cassie stared at him, letting the shock settle over her. Melanie had named her as legal guardian of her daughter? The idea seemed overwhelming, impossible.

“Mr. Benning, surely there’s someone else more qualified to take Jessica. What about John’s family?”

Slowly, Mr. Benning removed his glasses. “There is no one else, Ms. Andrews. Mr. Reynolds was raised in the foster care system, as was Mrs. Reynolds,” he said. “It was the Reynolds’s final wish that you were to be given full custody of their daughter. Now if you feel that you are unable to take on this duty…”

As the lawyer’s words droned on, Cassie struggled to draw a breath. An icy fist had gripped her chest. Panic, pure and simple, lay at the root of her troubles. She was twenty-five years old, just starting her own business and living in a one-bedroom apartment. She didn’t know how a baby would fit into her life. She wasn’t being selfish. Just honest. She doubted her own maternal capabilities.

“Mr. Benning, I don’t think I can do this,” she said, interrupting his speech. “I’ve never taken care of a baby. I don’t know if I could handle the job.”

“I see.” He sat back in his chair, looking disappointed.

Cassie stared at him uncertainly. “What’s going to happen to…to Jessica if I don’t assume custody?”

He sighed. “She’ll be turned over to Social Services. Chances are good she’ll be adopted by a young couple looking for a child.”

“And if she isn’t?”

He spread his fingers in a helpless gesture. “If she isn’t adopted, then she’ll be put into the foster care system.”

The words shook her. Cassie sat in numbed silence. She recalled the late-night talk sessions she’d had with Melanie in college. The times when her friend had revealed the painful memories of growing up unloved and unwanted in foster homes. Cassie wondered how she could live with herself if she allowed her friend’s child to be put in a situation where she might repeat her mother’s own fate.

“Baby Jessica is a healthy little girl,” Mr. Benning assured her. “There’s no physical reason to keep her from being adopted. I’m sure there’s no need to worry—”

“I can’t take that chance,” Cassie said suddenly, startling the older man as well as herself. “I won’t allow Jessica to grow up without a parent.”

He blinked. “Are you saying you are willing to take Jessica?”

Cassie’s throat went dry. She couldn’t speak.

Never before had she been expected to make such a rash, life-altering decision. She needed time to mull through her options. But time was the one thing she wasn’t to be allowed. If she said no, she’d be cutting off all ties with a woman she’d considered a friend—a decision, she had no doubt, that would cause her to spend the rest of her life struggling with a guilty heart. But if she said yes and failed as a surrogate parent, the consequences of her actions would be costly. She might be setting herself and Jessica up for heartbreak.

“Mr. Benning, months ago, Melanie asked me to look after Jessica if anything ever happened to her.” Cassie took a deep breath. “I never thought I’d be held to that. But if Melanie trusted me enough to name me as her baby’s guardian, then I don’t have a choice but to accept.”

The lawyer studied her for a long moment, his gaze hard and assessing. Then, seeming satisfied, he said, “Very well, Ms. Andrews. Now that the decision has been made, let’s get the paperwork out of the way so that you can meet Jessica.”

Cassie glanced around the lobby. “She’s here?”

Mr. Benning pointed a finger at the high atrium ceiling. “She’s upstairs in my suite with my secretary.”

A shiver of trepidation traveled through her. She glanced at her wristwatch. Fifteen minutes had passed since she’d walked into the lobby of the hotel. Fifteen of the most important minutes of her life. She had a feeling her world would never be the same.

Up until a few months ago, she wasn’t sure she could take care of herself, let alone be responsible for someone else. Her parents had been skeptical when she’d started her own business. She wondered what they’d say when she told them she was going to raise a child.

Cassie gathered a firm grip on her self-confidence. She had proved herself to be a successful business-woman. If she could arrange a sit-down dinner party for twenty on two hours’ notice, raising a baby should be a snap.

Party?

Cassie drew in a sharp breath and glanced at her watch again. In all the excitement, she’d completely forgotten about Greg’s party. It would be starting in less than two hours.

She gave a silent moan. Greg expected her to fail as a hostess; she could see it in his eyes every time they’d met to discuss her duties. She’d been determined to prove him wrong.

Now she wasn’t so sure.

It looked as though Greg Lawton might just have another chance to say “I told you so.”



At eleven forty-five, the doorbell rang. Greg glanced around his bustling house and felt a surge of panic. He muttered an oath beneath his breath. “Don’t let it be a guest.”

His house had never been so full. The caterers had arrived. The servers were setting up shop on the patio. And the bartenders were busy uncorking the wine bottles and tapping the beer keg. Everyone was here, except for Cassie.

She had promised him she would be there. He was counting on her to help pull off this party. But it would appear Cassie was pulling a no-show. Greg muttered another oath. He swore this was the last time he’d put his trust in a woman.

Greg yanked open the front door, sending the brass knocker clanging against its perch.

Cassie stood on his doorstep.

He didn’t know whether to breathe a sigh of relief or holler at her. He was too surprised to do either. Greg blinked hard and did a double take.

In Cassie’s arms was a baby. A small, apple-cheeked baby girl with sandy blond hair, baby blue eyes and a pout on her rosebud lips. The expression on the baby’s face was a mirror image of Cassie’s. Both women looked tired and cranky.

Greg couldn’t believe it. Cassie had brought a baby to his party!




Chapter Two (#ulink_4c6d96cc-7353-578a-9b24-238cab844f30)


“I know what you’re going to say. I’m late.” Cassie stepped inside, brushing past Greg. “I’m sorry. I have a doozy of an excuse. But that will have to wait until later.”

The heels of her sandals clicked against the wood floor of the entryway as she strode directly to the kitchen. The skirt of her yellow sundress swirled around her long legs. A pink diaper bag swung against the slender curve of her hip. Her silky blond hair, pulled into a neat ponytail, swung from side to side. She looked perfect, ready to play the role of his hostess. Ready, that is, except for the baby in her arms.

As though on cue, the baby began to whimper.

Greg followed closely on their heels.

“Did the caterers arrive on time?” she called over her shoulder. “How about the bartender?”

“Cassie—”

“What about the tables and decorations? My workers are very reliable. I’m sure everything looks perfect.” She pushed open the kitchen’s swinging door. The room was noisy and filled to capacity with workers preparing for the party. Winding her way through the crowd, she snagged the diaper bag off her shoulder and began pulling out bottles of milk. “How does the backyard look? I was a little worried about spacing.”

“Cassie,” he said, louder this time.

Heads turned. The catering staff watched with interest.

Cassie stopped unpacking. She looked at him, one brow raised. “Hmm?”

“You have a baby,” he pointed out unnecessarily. The whimpering had grown in volume. Obviously the child was tuning up for a whole new chorus of tears.

“That’s right,” she said. Bouncing the baby on her hip, she opened the refrigerator door and stowed the bottles inside. “But don’t worry. Nothing, not even a baby, is going to interfere with my hostessing duties. Now I’m going to just pop outside and check on—”

“Cassie,” he said, interrupting her again. “Whose baby is it?”

She bit her lip, looking uncertain. “Well, I suppose…she’s mine.”

Greg closed his eyes and counted to ten. He only got to three before the baby’s howls interrupted him. He glared at the pair. “This is a joke, right?”

“No joke,” Cassie said, her voice catching. Tears, matching those streaming down the baby’s cheeks, filled her eyes. “She really is mine.”

He tried hard to fight it, but failed. An ill-advised bout of sympathy rocked him. He hated to see anyone—even Cassie—cry. He shook his head. “Cassie, Cassie, Cassie…what have you gotten yourself into this time?”

She tried to blink away the tears, but only succeeded in sending a stray drop tumbling down her cheek. She sniffed loudly, attracting more curious glances from the catering staff.

Greg shifted uncomfortably, feeling like a cad, as though he were to blame for Cassie’s uncharacteristic show of emotion.

“I haven’t gotten myself into anything. A friend of mine has died…and I’ve been named guardian of her daughter.” Trepidation filled her eyes as she looked at the crying baby. “Now Jessica’s all mine.”

Cassie? A mother? The thought sent a shiver down his spine. Greg stared at her, unable to believe the explanation. With the exception of her party planning service, Cassie had never been able to make a commitment to anything, or anyone, in her life. And now she wanted to raise a baby? The whole idea was preposterous.

Greg glanced at the kitchen clock—11:55. His guests would be arriving at any moment. Now wasn’t the time to remind Cassie of her many shortcomings. “Look, maybe we should discuss this later, when we have more time. Right now we need to talk about the party.”

“I’ve already told you, I still plan to help—”

“How?” He waved a hand at the wailing baby, who’d paused long enough to suck in a breath of air before letting loose with another, even louder, cry. “I’d say you’ve got your hands full already.”

Cassie’s shoulders drooped defeatedly. She looked close to giving in to the threatening tears. “I’m sorry, Greg. I wanted everything to be perfect.”

Guilt took aim and struck him directly in the heart. Dealing with a vulnerable Cassie Andrews was a new and unsettling experience. He wanted the old Cassie. The spirited, outspoken Cassie. The annoyingly self-assured woman he’d counted on to pull off his party.

“It’s okay,” he said quickly, hoping to avoid more tears. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

She sent him a watery gaze. “Do you think so?”

He nodded. “I know so. First thing we’ve got to do is stop this crying.”

“I don’t know. I think there’s something really wrong with her. Some baby disease, or worse.” Cassie glanced at the baby, her expression worried. “She’s been crying nonstop since I picked her up.”

He’d meant Cassie’s tears. He decided to let the misunderstanding slide. “Hey, if there’s one thing I know, it’s baby diseases,” he assured her. “Why don’t I have a look at her?”

He reached for Jessica.

Cassie hesitated. Then, reluctantly, she placed the squirming bundle into his outstretched arms. With the ease wrought of experience, he rested the child against one shoulder, patting her back in soothing strokes. Instantly Jessica’s cries subsided.

Cassie stared at them, her lower lip trembling. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with her. It’s me. She just doesn’t like me.”

Greg grimaced. Cassie, it would seem, was on the verge of losing total control. If he wanted a hostess for his party, he’d better think of something, and fast. Forcing a soothing tone, he said, “Babies can sense stress. New moms always go through a period of adjustment. Once you feel more comfortable with Jessica, you will be fine.”

The doorbell rang.

They both froze.

“The guests,” Cassie gasped, glancing around the bustling kitchen. “Oh, no! What are we going to do?”

Sending Cassie and her baby packing seemed like the most viable course of action. Jessica squirmed in his arms, as though sensing impending trouble. Cassie’s terrified gaze brought a new lump of emotion to his throat. He looked at the pair and knew that, as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t toss them out. Like it or not he needed Cassie’s help as much as she needed his.

“This is what we’re going to do,” he said, taking charge, an unusual phenomenon in dealing with Cassie. “You take care of the party. I’ll take care of Jessica.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know, Greg—”

“Listen to me, Cassie. If there’s one thing I know about it’s kids,” he said firmly. He forced a smile. “Trust me, it’ll work.”

She made a disgusted face, a shimmer of the old Cassie shining through. “Do I have a choice?”

“No.” He grabbed her hand and led her toward the front door.

Cassie dug in her heels. “What about Jessica? How are we going to explain her to your guests?”

Greg considered the tiny girl in his arms. He had to admit, she looked irresistible, with her curly tufts of sandy-colored hair, her baby blue eyes, and her soft, rosebud lips. She blessed him with a smile, and Greg nearly lost his heart. He gave a wistful sigh. If only grown women were this uncomplicated, they’d be so much easier to handle.

He frowned. The thought of getting through the day pretending to be romantically involved with Cassie was a daunting enough task. Adding Jessica to the mix seemed impossible.

“We won’t. Explain about her, that is,” he said finally. “The less my guests know about Jessica, the better. No need to complicate matters any more than they already are. You’re supposed to be my date. We’re going to have a hard enough time convincing everyone to believe that story.”

Cassie straightened her shoulders. A look of pure indignation lit her dark eyes, replacing the uncertainty. “Are you saying you don’t think I can handle the job?”

Greg struggled to control his temper. “What I’m saying is that whenever you’re around, trouble usually follows.”

Angry color touched her cheeks. She opened her mouth to give him what he was sure would be an angry retort.

Only, the doorbell rang…again.

Greg muttered an oath. “We don’t have time for an argument. Are you ready?”

“Of course I’m ready,” she snapped.

“Great,” he muttered, reaching for the doorknob. He paused, giving her a cursory inspection. “Smile. Remember, we’re supposed to be a happy couple.”

Cassie’s smile looked more like a grimace—with teeth. But at least it was a start. Scowling, Greg threw open the door.

Fellow pediatrician Bob Ryder and his wife, Sandy, stood on his doorstep. They returned his stormy gaze with uneasy glances.

Remembering his own advice, Greg forced a smile. “Bob, Sandy, good to see you. Come in.”

Bob, a short man with a round face, and his wife, a tall, slender brunette, stepped inside. Bob gave an uncomfortable chuckle. “For a minute there, I was afraid we had the wrong day.”

“No, no,” Greg said, still smiling. He shifted Jessica’s warm weight in his arms. “We had to deal with a minor crisis in the kitchen. But everything’s fine now. Just fine.”

“We?” Bob glanced curiously at Cassie.

Greg’s smile faltered. This was the moment he’d been dreading. The moment of truth. Time for Cassie to prove whether or not she was worth all the money he was paying her to play the role of his hostess-slash-girlfriend.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Where are my manners?”

He placed a tentative hand on Cassie’s slender shoulder, drawing her close. Her skin felt smooth, warm to the touch. Her body slender, yet supple. Up close, he caught a whiff of a delicate floral perfume. Awareness stirred in the pit of his stomach, surprising him.

Cassie drew in a sharp breath. She stiffened beneath his touch, appearing ready to flee.

Greg hurried an introduction. “Bob, Sandy, this is my, uh, friend, Cassie Andrews.”

Handshakes were exchanged. Greg gave a silent sigh of relief as Cassie slipped easily into the role of hostess.

Introductions finished, Bob and Sandy focused their attention on Jessica, waiting expectantly.

Greg added, “And this is Jessica…Cassie’s baby.”

“Isn’t she sweet?” Sandy cooed, stepping closer. “Could I hold her a minute?”

Greg looked to Cassie. She shrugged a reply.

“Uh, sure,” Greg said. “Why not?”

Sandy reached for the baby.

Jessica took one look at the woman, whimpered a protest and wrapped her chubby little arms around Greg’s neck, hiding her face in the softness of his navy polo shirt.

Cassie’s eyes widened in surprise.

Bob chuckled. “She seems kind of attached, Greg. Do you have that sort of effect on all women?”

Embarrassed heat rose on Greg’s face.

“Greg’s very good with Jessica,” Cassie said, coming to his defense. Greg shot her a quelling glance, which she ignored. She smiled innocently. “Whenever they’re together, the two of them are inseparable.”

Bob and Sandy exchanged curious glances.

Apparently, Cassie’s interpretation of “less is best” in dealing with Jessica’s presence was different from his. Before the day was out, he’d be Jessica’s favorite uncle, responsible for the child’s happiness and welfare. Greg shook his head, wondering if it were too much to hope for a strike from a lightning bolt on this bright and cloudless day to bring a quick and painless end to his misery.

Cassie fanned the air with a slender hand, seeming oblivious to the speculation she’d raised. “It certainly is hot today. Why don’t we rustle up a few drinks.” She took Sandy’s arm, leading her toward the backyard. “Sandy, I love your dress. Tell me, where did you find that color of peach…”

Greg and Bob followed at a slower pace.

“Not bad, Lawton,” Bob whispered, sending Cassie an appreciative gaze. “Where’ve you been hiding this one?”

Greg felt an unexpected flash of irritation. He attributed the emotion to strained nerves, not jealousy. As far as he was concerned, jealousy and Cassie Andrews did not go hand in hand.

“I haven’t been hiding Cassie anywhere,” he said, struggling with an even tone. Jessica poked a tiny finger in his mouth. He moved it out of harm’s way. “We’ve known each other for a long time.”

Which was the truth, of course. He just didn’t mention the fact that, until today, they’d avoided being in the same room with each other. Knowing and liking each other were entirely different propositions.

Though he had to admit Cassie did make a good first impression. Greg studied her, taking in her bright smile, her long-legged, graceful stride and her slender body. His gaze narrowed. It wasn’t until one got to know the true Cassie that she really started to get annoying.

“Don’t get me wrong, Greg,” Bob said, interrupting his brooding thoughts. “Cassie’s great. I for one think it’s about time you got over Niki.”

Niki? Greg’s mind went blank. He felt too stunned to speak. Today marked the first time since his broken engagement that he’d attended a social function without Niki at his side. He’d been dreading the event for weeks, certain it would accomplish nothing but dredge up old and painful memories.

He’d been wrong.

Since Cassie had walked in the door, demanding his attention, he hadn’t had time to think of Niki.

Not once.



“So, exactly how long have the two of you known each other?” Greg’s nurse, a petite redhead with a plump and curvy body, asked as she studied the sleepy baby in Greg’s arms.

Greg’s hand rested at Cassie’s waist. His grip tightened perceptibly, sending shock waves of awareness darting through her body. He looked at her, raising a questioning brow. “How long would you say, sweet-heart? Ten? Fifteen years?”





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