Книга - Maternally Yours

Maternally Yours
Kathie DeNosky


Brett Connelly loved women–and he liked kids as much as the next guy. Still, the playboy tycoon wasn't about to trade his Jag for a minivan. Why, then, his sudden urge to rescue pregnant detective Elena Delgado?The fiercely independent Elena resisted his every advance, resented his every gesture. No matter that this sperm-bank baby was her last hope for motherhood…she wouldn't succumb to Brett's easy charm.Elena's sexy curves drove Brett crazy–and scared the heck out of him. For he feared the dainty detective and her baby-to-be might just be what it took to bring this playboy to his knees.









AROUND CHI-TOWN

News flash!

February: Even though new King Daniel is thoroughly ensconced in Altaria’s royal palace, the Connelly family is once again making Chicago headlines. Informed sources tell me that a female Special Investigative Unit detective has been seen in and around the Connelly offices and lakeside retreat. And she’s being squired about by Brett Connelly himself.

Does Chicago’s newest most eligible bachelor need a bodyguard? And just how much protection can the dainty Detective Delgado provide, anyway?

Emma Rosemere Connelly, the former princess of Altaria, denies reports that the investigation is somehow connected to the new royal family in her island homeland. But this reporter will search the globe to bring you the truth.

In another mystery, yours truly has been baffled that man-about-town Brett has been absent from the social scene of late. Well, now rumor has it that he bagged last night’s gala for a trip to Baby World, the area’s largest baby-supply store.

For a man who’s sported the city’s most glamorous women on his arm, he sure looks odd holding a gingham teddy bear. What gives, Brett? Is someone hiding your little secret?

Now there’s a case Detective Delgado can investigate!




Dear Reader,

Escape the winter doldrums by reading six new passionate, powerful and provocative romances from Silhouette Desire!

Start with our MAN OF THE MONTH, The Playboy Sheikh, the latest SONS OF THE DESERT love story by bestselling author Alexandra Sellers. Also thrilling is the second title in our yearlong continuity series DYNASTIES: THE CONNELLYS. In Maternally Yours by Kathie DeNosky, a pleasure-seeking tycoon falls for a soon-to-be mom.

All you readers who’ve requested more titles in Cait London’s beloved TALLCHIEFS miniseries will delight in her smoldering Tallchief: The Hunter. And more great news for our loyal Desire readers—a brand-new five-book series featuring THE TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB, subtitled THE LAST BACHELOR, launches this month. In The Millionaire’s Pregnant Bride by Dixie Browning, passion erupts between an oil executive and secretary who marry for the sake of her unborn child.

A single-dad surgeon meets his match in Dr. Desirable, the second book of Kristi Gold’s MARRYING AN M.D. miniseries. And Kate Little’s Tall, Dark & Cranky is an enchanting contemporary version of Beauty and the Beast.

Indulge yourself with all six of these exhilarating love stories from Silhouette Desire!

Enjoy!






Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire




Maternally Yours

Kathie DeNosky







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




KATHIE DENOSKY


lives in deep southern Illinois with her husband and three children. After reading and enjoying Silhouette books for many years, she is ecstatic about being able to share her stories with others as a Silhouette Desire author. Writing highly sensual stories with a generous amount of humor, Kathie’s books have appeared on the Waldenbooks bestseller list. She enjoys going to rodeos, traveling to research settings for her books and listening to country music. She often starts her day at 2:00 a.m. so she can write without interruption, before the rest of the family is up and about. You may write to Kathie at: P.O. Box 2064, Herrin, Il 62948-5264.









MEET THE CONNELLYS

Wealthy, Powerful and Rocked by Scandal, Betrayal…and Passion!

Who’s Who in Maternally Yours

Brett Connelly—This playboy’s not ready for the wife, 2.2 kids, the minivan and the white picket fence…or is he?

Elena Delgado—She’ll do anything to protect her unborn child.

Drew Connelly—Brett’s older twin—by fifteen minutes. He’s taught his younger bro a thing or two about life…and love.

Seth Connelly—He can argue any position in a court of law, but what’s this half brother’s place in the Connelly clan?

Emma and Grant Connelly—The former princess and brash American beat the odds. Their love match is thirty-five years old…and still going strong.

Jennifer Anderson—Emma’s personal secretary. She gives Elena a crash course on single motherhood.

Princess Catherine—Events in her kingdom of Altaria prevent her from visiting her American cousins.

Albert Dessage—Elena’s European counterpart; he’ll stop at nothing till he uncovers the betrayal and scandal in Altaria.














Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven




One


Elena Delgado pressed a shaky hand to her stomach, took a deep breath and slowly got to her feet. She closed her eyes and leaned against the side of the rest room stall. The nausea wasn’t supposed to last all day. If it was, they would have called it something besides morning sickness. But she’d been ill almost from the instant the test stick turned blue.

She didn’t mind in the least. She’d gladly go through whatever it took to complete this pregnancy successfully. She bit her lower lip and took another deep breath. This was her last hope of having her own child, of holding it and loving it with every fiber of her being—she simply couldn’t afford another trip to the sperm bank. Not financially. Not emotionally.

When her stomach finally settled down, she pulled the door open and walked over to the vanity. The click of her black medium-heeled pumps striking the tiled floor echoed through the empty room. She shivered at the hollow loneliness of the sound.

Tears filled her eyes as she looked at herself in the mirror above the bank of sinks. She’d been alone all of her life. So why was she feeling so lonely now?

Disgusted with herself, Elena jerked paper towels from the dispenser on the wall and held them under the faucet, then pressed the cool wetness to her flushed cheeks. Her unstable emotions had to be caused by the hormonal changes from her pregnancy. That was the only thing it could be.

Otherwise Elena Delgado never cried. Ever.

She finished wiping away the last of the tears, draped her coat over her arm, then checked her watch. Groaning, she quickly grabbed her shoulder bag, said a silent prayer that her queasy stomach would remain calm for the next hour and walked out into the stylish reception area of Connelly Tower.

Heading for the elevators, she shook her head. She hated to be late for anything. It was rude and inconsiderate to keep people waiting. She shifted from one foot to the other as she impatiently waited for an elevator. Just one more slowdown in a day that had been filled with a series of delays and frustrations.

She’d awakened this morning to find that sometime during the night the ancient furnace in her building had finally given up the fight against Chicago’s cold, hard winters and died. It had taken her twice as long to get ready for work because she couldn’t stop shivering. Then she’d gone out to find that her car wouldn’t start, forcing her to walk six blocks in the frigid February temperature to catch the L.

The polished brass doors of the elevator finally swished open and Elena hurriedly stepped inside. She pressed the button to the seventeenth floor, and as it began to move, she closed her eyes against a wave of nausea. Express elevators should be outlawed, she decided as the rapid ascent played havoc with her already iffy stomach.

When it eased to a stop a few seconds later and the doors opened, she stepped out into the plushly carpeted corridor on shaky legs. After she met with Brett Connelly to arrange interviews with the rest of the Connelly family, she would spend the weekend trying to feel human again. But when she left, she would take the stairs.



Brett Connelly tapped the highly polished surface of his mahogany desk with his fountain pen. Glancing at his watch for the third time in as many minutes, he resumed staring out the window at the early-evening shadows covering Lake Michigan. He hated to be kept waiting. If the detective investigating the attempted murder of his older brother, Daniel, didn’t show up damned quick, Brett was calling it a day. Babe didn’t like him to be late getting home from work. In fact, he’d be lucky if she didn’t destroy some of his things to get back at him. She’d done that several times already.

The intercom on the corner of his desk suddenly buzzed, interrupting his thoughts. “Yes, Fiona?”

“Your four o’clock appointment has finally arrived, Mr. Connelly.”

“Thank you. Send her in.” As an afterthought, he added, “If you’d like, you can leave now.”

“Thank you, Mr. Connelly. I’ll see you on Monday. Have a nice weekend.”

“You, too, Fiona.”

Seconds later his office door opened, and a young woman with shoulder-length, tawny-brown hair walked into the room. Brett couldn’t keep from staring. This was the hotshot detective from the Special Investigative Unit of the Chicago Police Department?

Whoa, baby! He’d been expecting some middle-aged battle-ax who looked like a man and had a hard-as-nails attitude. Instead they’d sent a petite woman who had to be somewhere in her midtwenties and could put beauty queens to shame with her looks. He made a mental note to call and thank his father for assigning him the task of liaison between his family and the police.

Brett rose to his feet as his gaze zeroed in on her left hand to see if she wore a wedding band. She didn’t.

Sending a silent thank-you to the powers that be, he rounded the desk, treated her to his most charming smile—the smile that had kept his social calendar filled since his sophomore year in high school—and extended his hand. “I’m Brett Connelly, Vice President of Public Relations. And you are?”

She quickly shook his hand but didn’t return his smile. “I’m SIU Detective Elena Delgado. Sorry I’m late, Mr. Connelly.”

She wasn’t offering an explanation for her tardiness, and Brett wasn’t asking for one. He was too preoccupied with the tingling sensation running from his palm, up his arm and warming his chest.

“Since we’ll be working so closely together, please call me Brett, Ms. Delgado,” he said, rubbing his thumb over the silky skin on the back of her hand.

She dropped his hand, and the look she gave him indicated that she hadn’t been the least bit affected by his never-fail smile or his touch. At least not the way he’d been affected by hers.

“Shall we get down to business, Mr. Connelly?” she asked politely.

Her no-nonsense demeanor certainly went with her job. But it wasn’t often that he encountered a female he couldn’t charm. He took it as a personal challenge.

As she continued to gaze at him expectantly, he noticed something about her that had escaped him when she’d first entered the room. Elena Delgado looked tired. Very tired. Dark circles smudged the pale skin beneath her chocolate-brown eyes, and her voice sounded extremely weary. Maybe that had something to do with her no-nonsense attitude and refusal to use his first name.

Whatever the reason, something about her stoic demeanor urged him to take up the gauntlet and improve her mood. He checked his watch. It was dinnertime and he was already late getting home. Daniel and his wife, Erin, were safely hidden from any further attempts on Daniel’s life in the tiny island country of Altaria, so there was no immediate threat to his brother on that front. And Babe would treat him to the cold shoulder now, anyway. In fact, she’d probably already started destroying the living room. Being an hour or two later wouldn’t make much difference.

Besides, Elena looked as if she could use something to lift her spirits. What better way than spending an evening out on the town?

“I was just getting ready to leave for the day,” he said, walking over to remove his suit jacket from the brass coat tree in the corner. Shrugging into it, he reached for his leather overcoat. “Why don’t we discuss the details of the interviews over dinner?”

She shook her head, and if the expression on her lovely face was any indication, it wasn’t going to be easy changing her mind. “I’d rather not, Mr. Connelly.”

He wasn’t about to let that deter him. “I skipped breakfast and worked through lunch,” he said truthfully. “It’s dinnertime and I’m hungry.” He smiled. “And I’m betting you are, too.”

Her stomach chose that moment to rumble, making any protest she might have had ineffective. Her cheeks colored a pretty pink. He hadn’t seen a woman blush like that in years.

Brett chuckled. “Then it’s settled.” He pulled on his overcoat and placed his hand lightly at the small of her back to usher her to the door. “We’ll talk over dinner.”

She didn’t look happy, but Brett took it as a positive sign when she allowed him to steer her to the elevators. The swift ride down to the basement parking garage was a silent one and he began to wonder if he was losing his touch. By the time the doors opened, she looked positively miserable about being in his company.

“I’ll bring you back to pick up your car,” he said as they stepped out into the parking area.

“My car wouldn’t start this morning,” she said, sounding even more tired than before. “I took the L.”

“Well, you’re not taking it home,” he said emphatically. Police detective or not, he didn’t like the idea of a woman riding the elevated train alone at night. It just wasn’t safe. Before she could protest, he quickly led her to his black Jaguar and opened the passenger door. “Do you like Italian food?”

She practically collapsed into the bucket seat before she answered. “Yes, I normally love Italian food, but I don’t think it would be—”

“Good. Then Italian it is,” he said, closing the door. When she glanced up at him, he thought her complexion looked a little green. But he dismissed the notion. The fluorescent lights, combined with the shadows of the underground garage, cast an unnatural glow on everything. Walking around to the driver’s side, he opened the door and slid behind the wheel. “I know a great little place not far from here.”

She looked as if she intended to protest again, but when he started the car and backed from his parking spot, she clamped her mouth into a tight line, closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the seat.

Brett felt a twinge of guilt that he’d insisted they have dinner, when it was plain to see she was dead on her feet. But reason won out. She had to eat. This way she wouldn’t have to worry about cooking something for herself when she went home. Satisfied that he’d be doing her a favor by taking her to dinner, he steered the car out of the garage and into the flow of traffic on Michigan Avenue.

Ten minutes later he helped her out of her coat and held the chair while she settled herself at his usual table for two in a corner of the restaurant. Removing his overcoat, Brett hung both wraps on a nearby hook, then seated himself and stared at her over the flicker of a candle stuck in a Chianti bottle. She looked thoroughly exhausted.

“Why don’t we save this discussion until Monday morning?” he asked. “You look like you’re ready to drop.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted. She extracted a notepad from her shoulder bag. “I’d like to get the preliminaries out of the way so I can get started with the interviews Monday morning. Have you been filled in on what I’ll need from you, Mr. Connelly?”

Brett leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest as he tried to get his mind back down to business and off of the erotic scenario her innocent question evoked. He could think of several very exciting things he’d like for Elena Delgado to “need” from him, but scheduling meetings with his family wasn’t among them.

Clearing his throat, he focused on the job his father had assigned him, which Brett had been eager to accept. He wanted nothing more than to get to the bottom of who had tried to kill his brother Daniel. “When Dad called, he said you wanted to interview the rest of the family to help with your investigation.”

She nodded. “That’s right. Your father told me you’d take care of setting up the times and place.”

He grinned. Being efficient and anticipating others’ needs were the very reasons he was considered one of the best PR men in the textile industry. “I’ve already got the jump on it. I’ve arranged for you to speak privately with each of them in a conference room at Connelly Tower, starting Monday.”

“Good.”

“But it may take several days to get all of them rounded up,” he warned her.

He propped his elbow on the table and cupped his chin in his hand as he watched her brush a strand of silky brown hair from her flawless cheek. He’d have liked nothing more than to touch her soft skin, to run his hands through her hair. The dancing candlelight cast a soft glow on her lovely face, and Brett wondered what it would be like to hold Elena close, to kiss her.

“I understand that it will take several days to speak with everyone,” she said, bringing him out of his delightful musings. She glanced up from making notations on the notepad. “I’d also like to interview some of the employees at Connelly corporate headquarters. They may have information that will aid my investigation.”

“That can be arranged. Anything else?”

“Not that I can think of.” She glanced at her notes. “Of course, I’ll need to interview you, too.” She gave him a half smile. “I don’t see any reason why we can’t take care of that this evening.”

Heartened by the small gesture, he decided he might not be losing his touch after all. Although it hadn’t been the warmest of expressions, it was a start and gave him something to build on.

“Not tonight,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m tired and so are you. Besides, I’m your first interview Monday.” He grinned. “You wouldn’t want to throw off my schedule before we even get started, would you?”

She frowned. “I doubt that my taking your statement now will make a difference.”

“Oh, but it would,” he said, trying not to smile. “We wouldn’t be able to enjoy our dinner and I might get indigestion. If I did, it would probably keep me awake tonight and I wouldn’t get anything done tomorrow because of being tired. Then on Sunday I’d have to catch up on all the things I missed doing on Saturday, and…” He tried to affect a pitiful expression. “Well, I think you see how it would throw off my schedule.”

She stared at him for several long seconds before she slowly placed her pen on the table. “Let’s get something straight right now, Mr. Connelly. This isn’t a social—”

Their waiter chose that moment to place a basket of bread sticks on the table. “Good evening, Mr. Connelly. Would you like a wine list?”

When Brett gave her a questioning look, Elena shook her head and smiled up at the man. “No wine for me.”

“A glass of wine will help you relax and take the edge off the day,” Brett said. Turning to the waiter, he added, “Bring two goblets and a bottle of your best wine, Vinnie.”

Elena did a slow burn. Brett obviously had the idea that because he was extraordinarily handsome, very successful and a member of the influential Connelly family, he could control any situation he pleased. Boy, oh boy, was he in for a rude awakening.

Any other woman would probably be down on her hands and knees, thanking the moon and stars that she was dining with the very eligible Brett Connelly. But Elena wasn’t just any woman. Fortunately for her, she was immune to his movie star good looks, his bluer-than-blue eyes and his engaging smile. She’d been down that path before and learned her lesson well. The last thing she wanted to have to deal with was a playboy like her ex-husband.

She started to tell their waiter not to bother bringing a glass for her, but Brett chose that moment to speak to the young man hovering beside him. “And I think we’ll both have a salad with the house dressing and the calamari, Vinnie.”

“Very good choice, sir,” Vinnie said, treating Elena to a grin that said he’d watched Brett in action before.

As soon as the waiter walked away, Elena glared at Brett. “Don’t you think that was a bit presumptuous of you?”

“You don’t like calamari?” he asked, looking shocked. “I thought everyone liked it. If you’d prefer I order something else—”

When he raised his hand to hail Vinnie, she shook her head. “That’s not the point, Mr. Connelly.”

With a recalcitrant lock of wavy black hair hanging low on his forehead and confusion written all over his handsome face, he looked like a little boy who had no idea what he’d done wrong. She almost smiled. She’d bet he didn’t wear that expression very often.

“What is the point, Elena?” He placed his hand on hers where it rested on the top of the table. “And please, call me Brett.”

All thoughts of him looking like an innocent little boy were instantly erased. His warm palm caused the oddest sensation to course through her, and his rich, smooth baritone was releasing a herd of butterflies in her less-than-stable stomach. She quickly snatched her hand away and placed it in her lap. The man deserved every bit of the playboy reputation reported in the society columns. Too bad he was wasting all that charm on her. Thanks to her ex-husband, Michael, she was totally immune to that kind of tactic.

“I told you I didn’t want wine,” she said. The fluttering in her stomach changed to a churning sensation, and her palms turned cold and clammy. “I think it’s time we set some ground rules, Mr. Connelly. I’m not interested in anything but the investigation of your brother’s attempted murder, so you can stop this right here and now.”

One dark brow rose in question as he stared at her. “What makes you think I’m trying to do anything but cooperate with your investigation, Elena?”

“Mr. Connelly—”

“Call me Brett.”

“You steamrolled me into having dinner with you.” She gathered her notepad and pen and jammed them into her shoulder bag. “You decided I could wait to interview you until Monday, then you even went so far as to decide that I’d have wine when I clearly stated that I didn’t want it. Do you see a pattern here, Mr. Connelly?”

“Not really,” he said, mesmerizing her with his guileless blue eyes and sexy-as-sin voice.

“I don’t like being told what to do,” she said, needing to put some distance between herself and Brett Connelly. She quickly rose to her feet, but the room swayed and she had to place her hand on the table to steady herself. “I’m used to being in control and calling the shots when I’m assigned to…an investigation.”

“Are you all right?” he asked, jumping to his feet. To his credit, he looked genuinely concerned.

“I’m…fine.” Elena closed her eyes in an effort to clear her vision. When she opened them again, Brett was standing at her side with his hand beneath her elbow. “It’s been a long trying day, at the end of an exhausting week, Mr. Connelly. I think I’ll skip dinner, catch a cab and go home.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“No, it isn’t necessary,” Elena said, trying desperately to fight the increasing dizziness. “Please, stay…and enjoy your…dinner.”

Brett studied her for several long moments. He wasn’t sure what the problem was, but he knew for certain Elena suffered from more than just a simple case of exhaustion. Her breathing had become shallow and labored, and her face had become a ghostly white.

“Mario,” Brett called, motioning for the maître d’. When the little man hurried over to them, Brett explained, “Ms. Delgado isn’t feeling well and we’ve decided not to have dinner after all.”

“Very well, Signore Connelly,” Mario said, shooting Elena a worried look as Brett held her coat. “I’m sorry the signorina has fallen ill. I hope she will be all right.”

Nodding, Brett took her by the elbow and started to guide her toward the door. But the moment she turned, her steps faltered and she stopped abruptly. She looked up at him, and he could see a mixture of fear and panic in her expressive brown eyes, and the desperation as she sagged against him.

“Please…help me…Brett,” she whispered, a moment before her lashes fluttered shut and she lost her battle with consciousness.

Without a second thought, he swung her up into his arms, cradled her to his chest and shouldered his way through the exit. Fortunately, he’d been able to park in front of Mario’s and it was only a few feet to his car.

He quickly placed her on the passenger seat of the Jag, fastened her seat belt, then trotted around the front of the car to slide into the driver’s seat. Jamming the key into the ignition, he shifted into first and shot from the parking space.

“Hang on, Elena,” he said, fighting an unfamiliar sense of panic as he wove his way around slower-moving vehicles. “I’ll have you in Memorial’s E.R. in less than two minutes.”




Two


Brett loosened his tie, jammed his hands into the front pockets of his suit pants and paced outside of the examining room at Memorial Hospital’s E.R. He was used to having women fall at his feet figuratively, but this was the first time it had ever happened literally. And the worst part of it was, he was to blame.

How could he have pulled such a stupid stunt? Elena had told him she didn’t want to go to dinner, that she’d had a bad day and just wanted to go home. But he couldn’t take no for an answer.

No, Brett Connelly, connoisseur of women, had taken her reluctance to spend time with him as provocation for turning on the charm—as if she was a challenge to be conquered. He’d noticed several times that she looked as if she wasn’t feeling well, but he’d ignored it. He’d even gone so far as to convince himself that a little wining and dining was just what Elena needed to improve her mood. How could he have been so insensitive, so damned stupid?

“Brett Connelly, you’re the last person I expected to see here,” a female voice called.

He looked up to find Meg O’Reilly walking toward him. Great. What else could go wrong this evening? Not only was he responsible for a woman collapsing at dinner, now his past was coming back to haunt him.

Brett hadn’t seen Meg in five years, not since the night the pretty blonde had told him she loved him and intended to marry him as soon as she finished medical school. It had only been a month after his twin brother, Drew’s, wife, Talia, had died and the devastation his brother suffered had been too fresh in Brett’s mind. As with most twins he’d felt Drew’s pain almost as if it was his own. Brett had made a vow never to put himself in the position to experience that degree of guilt, of failure.

So he’d taken Meg home that evening and kindly, but firmly, explained to her that he wasn’t the marrying kind. He’d tried to assure her that although there wasn’t any possibility of a long-term relationship, they could still see each other. But she’d taken exception to his honesty and ended up throwing a lamp at him as he’d made a hasty escape.

Now, spotting in her hand some clear plastic tubing used for IV feedings, he figured she’d probably use it to lynch him right in the hospital corridor.

“Hello, Meg,” he said cautiously. As a matter of habit, his gaze zeroed in on the ring finger of her left hand. Relief coursed through him at the sight of her shiny gold wedding band. “How have you been?”

She pointed to the M.D. after her name on the white lab coat she wore. “I finally made it through medical school.” She gave him a wry grin. “And I see you’re still checking out women’s ring fingers.”

Brett nodded absently. His mind had already returned to the petite police detective in the room across the corridor. It seemed as if she’d been in there for hours.

“Could you do me a favor, Meg? Could you check on a patient and find out what’s going on?” he asked suddenly, pointing to the closed door in front of them.

“Sure.” She glanced toward the crowded waiting area. “Is the patient a family member?”

He shook his head. “No. It’s a woman I was having dinner with. She fainted.”

Giving him a contemplative look, Meg turned toward the door he’d indicated. “I’ll find out what I can.”

He waited for what seemed an eternity before the door finally opened. “Is she going to be all right?” he asked, his guilt increasing as he faced Meg. Her expression gave nothing away and only served to heighten his anxiety.

If he’d caused whatever Elena had been suffering from earlier in the evening to worsen by insisting she go to dinner with him he’d never forgive himself.

“As long as she takes it easy she should be fine.” Meg smiled knowingly. “They’re getting ready to release her as soon as the attending physician prescribes medication for the nausea. But your job is going to be to see that she starts eating regular meals and getting more rest. It’s important for everyone, but even more so for someone in Ms. Delgado’s condition.”

“Okay.” He’d agree to anything, if it would make up for his colossal lack of sensitivity.

Meg’s expression turned serious. “If she doesn’t, she’ll lose the baby, Brett.”

“The baby,” he repeated dumbly.

“Yes, the baby.” Meg’s beeper went off, and after checking the tiny screen, she smiled. “I’ve got to run.” She touched his arm, her face filled with understanding. “Look, Brett, she’s very upset and scared to death that she’ll have a miscarriage. I can tell she and the baby mean a lot to you. Just take good care of them and everything should be fine.”

“Me?” Brett opened and closed his mouth several times in an attempt to make his vocal chords work. “I didn’t— I mean, I’m not—”

“Relax. You’ll be a great father.” Meg turned to walk away. “Good luck to the three of you.”

Astounded, Brett watched the woman disappear around a corner, then looked at the closed door in front of him. Meg thought Elena’s baby was his.

The assumption that he was the father was almost laughable. For that matter it held true of his being the father of anyone’s baby.

He shook his head as he waited for Elena. If the truth came out, most of the society gossips would be shocked right down to the soles of their feet. Brett Connelly might have been seen dining or attending a social function with several different women, but he hadn’t been seeing anyone steadily for the past six months. And beside being extremely careful to take the proper precautions when he was with a woman, it had been more than a year since he’d had sex.



Fear clawed at every fiber of Elena’s being, and tears blurred her vision as she slowly got dressed. One thought kept running through her mind. She couldn’t lose this baby. She just couldn’t. Having already suffered two miscarriages during her disastrous marriage, this was her last hope for a child of her own.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to think positively. In seven months she’d have a beautiful child to love who would love her in return. This time she was not going to lose her baby.

Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she hoped with all her heart that Brett had gotten tired of waiting and left the hospital to pursue other interests for the evening. She took pride in her job and had worked very hard to earn her position as a special investigative detective. When she was on duty, as she had been this evening, she never allowed anyone to see her as anything but a consummate professional. Ever.

But Brett had witnessed her weakness, her vulnerability. It would be humiliating enough to face him on Monday morning when she began interviewing the Connelly family. Tonight it would be downright impossible.

Tucking the prescription and blister packs of medication the doctor had given her for nausea into her shoulder bag, she pushed open the door of the tiny examining room and walked out into the hall. She almost groaned out loud. There Brett stood looking as tall and handsome as ever.

He whirled around at the sound of her footsteps, and the look on his face surprised her. She would have expected a sullen impatience about him for the inconvenience she’d caused. Her ex-husband, Michael, had always worn that look whenever she’d done something to interrupt his plans. But Brett’s expression held nothing but concern.

“Are you all right?” he asked, closing the space between them to place his hands on her shoulders. She found the warmth from his palms oddly reassuring.

She nodded but couldn’t meet his worried gaze. How could she? She was far too embarrassed. He’d witnessed her at one of the lowest moments of her life.

“Is there someone I should call?” he asked. “A husband or friend?”

Still unable to meet his gaze, she shook her head. “There’s no one.”

Placing his forefinger under her chin, he lifted her face until their gazes met. “I’m really sorry, Elena,” he said, his voice soft and low. “I should have listened to you when you said you weren’t up to having dinner with me. Do you think you can find it in your heart to forgive me for being an insensitive fool?”

His gentle touch, the sincerity in his words and the apologetic look he gave her caused tears to flood her eyes again and a huge lump to form in her throat. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard a man apologize to her for anything, let alone ask for her forgiveness. In the entire four years of her marriage, Michael had only expressed regret a couple of times and he’d never asked for her forgiveness. Not the first time, when she’d discovered he was having an affair. Not the last time, when he’d told her he was moving out to live with the woman he’d been sleeping with for the previous six months of their marriage.

“Thank you for your help,” she said, forcing words past the tightness clogging her throat. “But you shouldn’t have waited. I’m sure you have more entertaining things to do with your evening than stand around the hospital.”

“No problem,” he said, smiling. He held her coat for her. “When we get to your place, I’ll call and have some food delivered.”

Elena shook her head. “Thank you, but you don’t have to do that. I’ll catch a cab and fix something for myself when I get back to my apartment.”

“The doctor said you needed to start eating regular meals and getting more rest.” Brett ushered her toward the exit at the end of the long corridor. “You can’t possibly do that if you have to cook for yourself. Besides, it’s late and you’re tired. You need to put your feet up and take it easy.”

“I’m used to fending for myself,” she argued. Tears were threatening again, and she had to get away from him before she humiliated herself further with a crying binge.

“It’s the least I can do. I feel responsible for you spending your evening in the E.R.”

As they walked out into the bitterly cold night, he put his arm around her shoulders and tucked her to his side to shield her from the brisk wind blowing in from Lake Michigan and the snow that had begun to fall. Before she could find her voice to tell him that he owed her nothing, he had her settled in the plush leather passenger seat of the Jaguar and was sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Do you think your stomach would be okay with soup?” he asked.

“I think so, but you don’t have to—”

“Elena, I do have to,” he interrupted. “I should have listened to you. But I didn’t, and my lack of sensitivity put you and your baby in danger. I’m really sorry, and I want to make it up to you. Please allow me to do that.”

That did it. The combination of his heartfelt apology, the self-reproach reflected in his blue eyes and her unstable hormones touched something deep inside of Elena that she’d thought long dead. Her eyes flooded with tears, and she quickly turned away before he noticed.

But it was too late. He had noticed.

He immediately pulled her into his arms. “Elena, honey, please don’t cry.” Brett held her close and caressed her cheek with his hand while she sobbed. “Everything is going to be all right. You and the baby will be just fine. The doctor told me that you need more rest, and I’m going to make sure you get it.”

Her tears fell faster. Great! Not only was she crying because of her pregnancy hormones, she was also shedding tears of utter humiliation that he’d witnessed her collapse at the restaurant and her teary breakdown now.

His warm embrace, the feel of his arms tightening around her to draw her to his wide chest, almost made her believe he meant what he said. Almost. But having been married to a man just like Brett, she knew better. Men would say anything to get themselves off the hook or to manipulate a woman into doing what they wanted.

But at the moment she was too tired and emotionally drained to protest. All she wanted was to go home, crawl into bed and forget this day had ever happened.

When she finally felt in control enough to speak, she gave him the address of her apartment building. “Please, just take me home.”

Nodding, he released her, started the car and shifted it into gear. “That’s not far from here. I’ll have you home in no time.”



Brett looked around as he pulled the Jag to a stop behind a waiting cab in front of a shabby four-story building. Although it was a respectable middle-class neighborhood, it was clear to see that her landlord hadn’t seen fit to keep his property maintained.

“Thank you for the ride home, Mr. Connelly.”

Brett’s brow rose at the formal use of his name and the hand she offered for him to shake. So she was trying to turn back time and return to a business-only acquaintance.

Well, that was just too damned bad, he decided, ignoring her gesture. He’d spent a good two hours in the E.R. worrying about her, and that, in his opinion, took them well beyond a business association.

Besides, whether she admitted it or not, she was extremely fragile right now. She needed someone to be there for her, to lend her moral support. And since he was partly to blame for her problems this evening, Brett felt obligated to see that she was comfortably settled before he bade her good-night. The fact that he liked the way she felt in his arms had no bearing on his decision at all.

Getting out of the car, he opened the passenger door before she could do it herself. He’d told her that he’d make sure everything was fine for her and her baby, and he had every intention of carrying through on his promise.

“Mr. Connelly—”

“Brett.” He smiled down at her. “I think we’re well past the formalities, Elena. Now, let’s get you inside where it’s warm.”

The cold February wind whipped the falling snow into their faces, and he placed his arm around her to hold her close. He told himself that it was just to keep her warm, to shield her from the frigid wind. But her small body pressed against his felt wonderful and he couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel without the cumbersome layers of their coats.

As they reached the steps to Elena’s building, a rotund lady in her fifties carrying a gym bag and resembling Nanook of the North, opened the door. “You’ll have to find somewhere else to spend the night, Elena,” she said, through the wool scarf covering her mouth and nose. “The furnace won’t be fixed until tomorrow at the earliest and maybe not until sometime Monday. The super said it depended on when the parts he had to order got here.”

Having made her announcement, Nanook hurried to the cab waiting by the curb, threw the gym bag inside, then hurled herself in after it.

“Wonderful,” Elena muttered as they watched the cab drive away. “The perfect ending to a perfect day.”

Brett held the door for her. “No problem. You can throw some clothes in an overnight case and stay at my place. I’ve got a nice large guest room and I guarantee it’s warm.”

He surprised himself with the invitation, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Not only was it the decent thing to do, since he was partially responsible for her collapse, it was something his parents would expect of him, considering the circumstances. This woman was in charge of investigating the attempted assassination of his brother Daniel, the new king of Altaria. Brett had been assigned the task of assisting her in whatever way was needed. By having Elena stay at his place, he could follow through on his promise to see that she was all right, and if she felt like it later, they could go over the questions she intended to ask during the interviews with his family.

“No, I can’t stay at your place,” she said, entering the lobby of the building.

She turned to face him, and if the look on her pretty face was any indication, hell would freeze over before she agreed to his offer. Brett almost laughed. With the temperature hovering around zero, it wouldn’t surprise him to hear that it had already started icing up.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Elena. You and I both know you can’t stay here.”

“I’ll…I’ll stay at…”

When her voice trailed off, he nodded. “That’s what I thought. You don’t have any idea where to stay, do you?”

“I’ll check into a hotel,” she said stubbornly.

He shook his head. “That’s not acceptable.”

She treated him to an indignant look. “Oh, really? And why not?”

“Because you need someone to take care of you.”

He immediately wished he’d used a little more diplomacy and phrased his statement differently. He could tell by the sudden straightening of her slender shoulders and the sparks of anger in her wide brown eyes, that he’d made a huge blunder.

“Mr. Connelly, I have never nor will I ever need someone to take care of me. I’ve been by myself for as long as I can remember and I’ve done just fine. I see no reason why that should change now.”

He told himself he should just walk away, that she didn’t want his help. But whether she wanted it or not, it was clear she needed it. He had no idea where the man was who’d gotten her pregnant, but it appeared as if he was out of the picture and she was on her own. For some reason that bothered him more than it should.

Brett didn’t fully understand what he was about to do, or why, but he’d made her and her unborn child a promise. It was time to play his trump card. “Elena, you don’t want to lose your baby because of some misguided belief that you’ll relinquish your independence. Think of what’s best for your child. If that means staying at my place tonight, then swallow your pride and accept my offer.”

Her expression instantly changed from fiercely indignant to anxious and frightened. He felt like an absolute jerk.

Reaching out, he drew her into his arms. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Elena nodded her head. “Yes, you should. You’re right. I should be thinking how this will affect the baby. But it would be best if I went…”

Where would she go if not to a hotel? She certainly couldn’t go to a relative’s. She didn’t have any. Her last foster mother—the only person who had cared enough to try to get close to her, and who’d made an effort to stay in touch after Elena left the foster care system—would be more than happy to help her. But Marie Waters lived over three hundred miles down-state in the tiny little town of Johnston City. No help there. She could go to a friend’s house, but she really hadn’t become close to anyone since her divorce last year. And it seemed that Michael had won custody of the few friends they’d made during their turbulent marriage.

As Brett continued to hold her, she felt her resolve to refuse his offer start to melt. They were really no more than strangers, yet he was offering to take her into his home.

A warmth began to steal into her soul that she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. She tried to ignore it. She didn’t want to think of Brett Connelly as anything more than a shallow self-centered playboy like her ex-husband. It was the only way she could keep things in perspective and maintain their professional relationship.

He rubbed his hands up and down her back in a soothing manner as he held her close. “Can’t think of anyone to stay with?”

She reluctantly shook her head. “Not really.”

He held her a moment longer, then set her away from him. “It’s settled, then.” He gave her one of his charming smiles, blew on his hands, then rubbed them together. “Now, let’s go upstairs to your apartment, throw some things in a bag and get going. It’s freezing in here.”




Three


Twenty minutes later Brett parked his car in his assigned space in the basement garage of his building and escorted Elena to the elevator. It was all she could do to keep from groaning when he punched in the security code to open the door. What was it with Brett and elevators, anyway? Why couldn’t he live and work on the ground level? Or at the very least, take the stairs up to his condo?

She held her breath and said a silent prayer that the medication the E.R. doctor had given her had had time to take effect as the door swished open and they stepped inside. To her immense relief, the ride wasn’t nearly as upsetting as she’d feared it might be, and when they stepped out into the hall on the twelfth floor, her stomach was only mildly queasy.

Brett guided her to the far end of the building where the more expensive penthouses were located, unlocked and opened the door. “Don’t be surprised if the place is a wreck,” he warned her. “Babe destroys something every time I’m late coming home from work.”

“Babe?” He was living with someone?

He nodded and turned on the light in the foyer just in time for Elena to see a small ball of long black hair come racing around the corner. The little dog yipped and bounced around happily at her feet, but when Brett bent down to pick up the animal, it skittered out of his reach, turned around and glared at him.

“So that’s the way it’s going to be, huh?” He laughed and guided Elena into the spacious living room. “She’ll be ultrafriendly with you, but I’ll get the cold shoulder for the rest of the evening.”

When he turned on the lamp by the end of the couch, he let loose a muttered curse. “Well, it looks like I’ll be shopping for throw pillows again.”

Elena couldn’t help but laugh as she looked around at the stuffing strewn across the thick beige carpet. “I take it you’ve been down this path before?”

Nodding, he helped her out of her coat. “Every time I’m late coming home from work.”

“She only does this when you’re late? What about during the day?” Elena asked, bending down to pick up a hunter-green satin remnant and several chunks of stuffing.

“Don’t do that,” he said, sounding alarmed. He motioned toward a comfortable-looking, overstuffed brown armchair with a matching ottoman. “Sit down and put your feet up while I get this cleaned up.”

“I’ll help.”

“No, you won’t.” He took the destroyed fabric from her and led her to the chair he’d indicated. “Just sit back and take it easy. I got off lucky. She only took out two of the pillows this time. Normally she tears up three or four, then shreds a magazine or two for good measure.”

Elena barely had time to settle herself in the chair before the little dog jumped into her lap. Two black eyes peered up at her from beneath a tuft of black hair a moment before the friendly animal pushed her head under Elena’s hand to be petted.

“What breed is she?” Elena asked, rubbing Babe’s small head.

He shrugged as he bent to collect chunks of stuffing. “The vet said she’s mostly Shih-Tzu with maybe a little Pekingese mixed in somewhere a generation or two back.” Straightening, he grinned. “But I’m pretty sure she has a bit of Tasmanian devil in her too.”

Cuddling the furry little body, Elena smiled. “Whatever she is, she’s adorable. How old is she?”

“The vet estimated she was about six months old when I found her wandering around outside of Connelly Tower. She was starving, scared of her shadow and extremely grateful.” He laughed. “That was a little more than a year ago. Now she’s well fed, arrogant as hell and thinks she owns me, instead of the other way around.”

He left the room to dispose of the tattered pillows. When he returned a few minutes later carrying a leash, Elena noticed that he’d changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. “I hope you like Chinese food.” When she nodded, he looked relieved. “Good. I just called in an order for chicken noodle soup, rice and stir-fried vegetables. It should be here in about twenty minutes.”

He walked over to snap the leash onto Babe’s collar. His hand brushed hers as he fastened the snap, and heat streaked up her arm. Elena quickly pulled back.

She wasn’t sure why, but every time Brett touched her—no matter how brief the contact—warm tingles radiated from the spot. “Do you have someone to take her out while you’re at work?” she asked, hoping he hadn’t noticed her breathless tone.

Nodding, he lifted the dog from her lap and set it on the floor. “I have a dog-walking service that comes by twice a day.” He looked down at Babe. “Ready to go out?”

Elena laughed when the dog glanced up at him, then aloofly turned her head and, ignoring him, started for the door. “You weren’t joking when you said she’d give you the cold shoulder, were you?”

The long-suffering look on his handsome face was ruined by the grin he couldn’t quite hide. “I get no respect around here. No respect at all.” His expression turning serious, he added, “Just sit there and relax. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

After he pulled on his coat and allowed Babe to lead him out the door, Elena propped her feet on the ottoman and thought about the many complexities of Brett Connelly. Her first impression of him had been that he was exactly like her hedonistic ex-husband. A man who lived for the moment and ran from anything that interfered with his good time or required that he take on any kind of responsibility.

She shook her head. Normally she could gauge someone’s personality with complete accuracy within the first five minutes of talking to them. She had to. It was her job to assess people and decide whether they were as they appeared.

But she had to admit she might have been a bit hasty with her first impression of Brett. Not only had he shocked her with his heartfelt apology in the E.R. and later at her apartment, he’d proven his compassion and generosity by insisting that she stay at his place while the furnace in her building was being repaired.

Elena looked around at his condo, at the expensive furniture and original paintings. What self-respecting playboy rescued stray dogs then good-naturedly allowed them to destroy his things as if it were nothing more than a minor annoyance? Or promised to help a pregnant cop with no one to turn to and nowhere else to go?



When Babe jumped onto the middle of his stomach and started doing a tap dance, Brett opened one eye. “Don’t tell me you have to go out now,” he muttered. “It’s barely daylight.”

In answer, the little dog yipped, scampered up his chest and licked his cheek.

He scratched behind her ears. “Oh, so with one doggy kiss I’m supposed to forgive and forget the way you treated me last night?”

Babe curled up on his bare chest, rested her head on her front paws and stared at him with two guileless black eyes as she whined an apology.

He groaned. “Okay, you’re forgiven. I’ll take you for a walk. Just don’t start with the sad puppy eyes.”

Brett plucked the little dog from his chest, rolled to the side of the bed and placed her on the floor. As he pulled on his sweat suit, Babe danced impatiently at his feet. He just hoped she didn’t start barking to hurry him along. Elena was in the bedroom just across the hall, and he didn’t want to wake her. She needed rest.

He quickly tied his running shoes, picked up Babe and walked out into the hall. The door to the guest room was still closed, and he didn’t hear sounds of Elena moving around. Good. They hadn’t disturbed her.

Last evening, when he and Babe had returned from their walk, he’d found Elena curled up in the chair where he’d left her. He smiled, remembering the scene.

She’d looked so relaxed, sleeping like a baby, that he hadn’t had the heart to wake her. She probably wouldn’t be happy with him, but after he’d moved her overnight case to the guest room, he’d picked her up and carried her to bed. So sound asleep, she’d barely stirred when he’d removed her shoes and pulled the comforter over her.

But he’d been left with two very distinct impressions from having her small body pressed to his chest. The first was how soft and feminine she’d felt, and the second was how shocked he’d been by the degree of heat that had coursed through him. His body stirred at the memory, and his pithy curse made Babe turn around to give him a curious look.

Forcing himself to focus on his other impression of Elena’s body, he frowned. He didn’t have any experience with pregnant women, but he was pretty sure they were supposed to be a little sturdier than Elena. He’d been disturbed by how light she was and how fragile she’d felt in his arms. She couldn’t weigh much more than a hundred pounds.

The doctor’s orders had been for her to start eating more regular meals, and it bothered him that she’d missed dinner last night. But he would see that she made up for it this morning. As soon as he returned to the condo, he would prepare a big breakfast and make sure she ate every bite.

Half an hour later Brett opened the door of his condo to the scrumptious smell of bacon frying. “Elena?”

“In here,” she called.

He quickly shed his coat and unsnapped the leash from Babe’s collar. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, walking into the kitchen. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

“Good morning to you, too,” she said, removing several strips of crisp bacon from the skillet. She looked around his feet. “Where’s Babe?”

Brett jerked his thumb in the direction of the living room. “Burrowed under what’s left of the pillows on the couch.” He noticed that Elena had showered and changed into jeans and a gray sweatshirt with Chicago Police Academy silk-screened across the front.

“Why did she do that?” she asked, removing a carton of eggs from the refrigerator.

“She always does that to warm up after she’s been out.” He took the carton from Elena and placed it on the counter.

“I don’t blame her,” she said, smiling. “February in Chicago can be miserably cold.” She reached for an egg. “How do you like your eggs? Sunny-side up, over easy or scrambled?”

“Over easy.” He took the spatula from her hand and guided her to the table in the breakfast nook. “But I’ll take care of it. You sit down.”

“I’m perfectly capable of cooking.” Her eyes narrowed. “Just as I would have been capable of putting myself to bed last night if someone had bothered to wake me.”

He’d figured on her having something to say about that. “You were tired.”

“That’s beside the point,” she said stubbornly.

“No, Elena. That is the point.”

He watched the color heighten on her cheeks as the sparkle of anger grew in her beautiful brown eyes. Propping his fists on his hips, Brett glared down at her from his much taller height. He hated using intimidation with anyone, and especially with a woman. But if it kept her from overdoing things, he’d do whatever it took.

“You’re supposed to take it easy, and I’m going to make sure you do,” he said sternly. “Besides, you’re my guest. So sit down.”

She glared at him as if she intended to argue further, then finally relented and seated herself at the table. “Brett, I…”

To his horror her eyes filled with tears and her perfect lips trembled. His gut twisted into a tight knot. He hadn’t thought her feelings would be hurt over something as trivial as his insistence that she relax, while he finished cooking breakfast.

“Elena, honey, I’m sorry,” he said, kneeling in front of her. He took her hands in his. “Please don’t cry.”

“I hate this,” she said, pulling away. She covered her face and cried harder.

He felt like a world-class jerk as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. “I don’t blame you for hating me, honey. I was out of line. I shouldn’t have spoken so harshly.”

She shook her head and sobbed into his shoulder. “It’s not you. It’s me.”

“You?”

She nodded and Brett had no idea what she meant. But at the moment he didn’t care. Her small body pressed to his, the feel of her arms wrapped around him and her warm breath teasing the sensitive skin of his neck were wreaking havoc with his good intentions.

“It’s…hormonal,” she sobbed. “I can’t…control it.”

So that was it. Her uncontrollable crying was due to her pregnancy.

Thinking back several years, Brett remembered his twin brother, Drew, mentioning that his wife had experienced all kinds of emotions while she was pregnant with their daughter, Amanda. In fact, he and Drew had jokingly referred to Talia’s sudden mood swings as the Nine-Month Nutsies.

Of course, they hadn’t dared mention that to Talia or any other woman. They’d had better sense than that.

“Feeling better?” he asked when Elena’s sobs tapered off and her shoulders stopped shaking.

She nodded and pushed away from his embrace. “I’m so embarrassed,” she said, her voice nothing more than a whisper as she stared down at her clasped hands.

He retrieved a handful of tissues from the box on the counter, then gently touched her damp cheek to wipe away her tears. “Don’t be embarrassed. It goes along with being pregnant.”

Elena looked up at him with one perfect brow raised questioningly. “You’ve had experience with pregnant women before?”

“No, but my twin brother’s late wife had a lot of trouble with her emotions when she was pregnant,” Brett explained. “That was back when Drew and I still confided in each other.”

The look on his handsome face, the sadness in his deep baritone made Elena wonder what had happened. “You’re no longer close?”

“Not as close as we were.” He shrugged, but she could tell it still bothered him. “After Talia died, Drew pretty much shut himself off emotionally from the rest of the family.”

“Why did he do that?” she asked, unable to understand why anyone would distance themselves from their family at the very time they needed them most. If she’d ever had a family, she knew for certain she would have turned to them innumerable times for their love and support. It would have made coping with her two miscarriages and the breakup of her marriage so much easier.

Brett stood and walked over to the stove. He broke a couple of eggs into the skillet before he spoke again. “I think Drew pulled back from the family emotionally because he blames himself for Talia’s death. She died of a drug overdose when their daughter was little.” Brett turned to face her. “The rest of the family knew there was something wrong with her, that she was taking way too much prescription medication, and we tried to tell him. But Drew was in denial about her problems. When he finally found the evidence and faced facts that his society bride was addicted to drugs, it was too late. He came home from work one day to find her dead.”

“I remember reading about that. That must have been awful for him.”

He nodded. “And the media just added to it. Since she was a Van Dorn, married to a Connelly, the newspapers were like sharks in a feeding frenzy. Every publication from here to Milwaukee carried the story, and most of the television and radio stations gave it more than average attention.”

Having dealt with reporters at crime scenes, she was well aware of the tactics used by some reporters to slant the facts or to create a story where none existed. But when two of Chicago’s most prominent families were touched by the same scandal, it was noteworthy. Factor in Brett’s mother, Emma, being the former princess of Altaria and it would naturally become front-page news.

“There are times I’ve despised dealing with the media,” Elena said sympathetically. “More than once they’ve complicated and, at times, even jeopardized investigations.”





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