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More Than a Millionaire by Emilie Rose

Only one woman held Ryan’s attention – Nicole Hightower.

Ryan shouldn’t find her attractive. She wasn’t his type. He liked his women curvy and soothing. Nicole bordered on too slender and restless. Yet when Nicole’s aqua eyes turned his way, she hit him with another megavolt jolt of awareness. He couldn’t prevent the unwelcome gut-jarring reaction each time their gazes met.

He didn’t want a relationship with her other than a contractual surrogate one. If all went according to his plan, she’d have his kid, hand it over and get out of his life. He didn’t want her underfoot and interfering. He didn’t need the drama.

Still, she tempted him. And the chemistry between them sizzled hot enough to make him want to engage in a short-term affair. What consequences would there be? After all, she was already having his baby.

The Untamed Sheikh by Tessa Radley

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Megan’s gaze dropped to her phone gripped high in Shafir’s strong dark hand. Nothing about this situation reassured her. “I’m supposed to believe that?”

The frantic vibration of her phone diverted her attention. Her messages had come through despite the limo’s path through the remote desert. Not a minute too soon! Disregarding his power, his size, Megan dived across his lap, intent on claiming back the phone – her phone, damn it.

Hard thighs of rock-like solidity beneath the elegant trousers were the first warning that she had made a colossal mistake. She jerked her gaze upwards.

Oh, no.

Bare inches separated their faces. Megan was aware of muscle shifting under her. He surrounded her. And he was big – much bigger than she’d realised.

Her breath came in ragged fits – yet he didn’t appear to be breathing at all. She gulped in air, but her pounding heart she could do nothing about.

More Than A Millionaire

By

Emilie Rose
The Untamed Sheikh

By

Tessa Radley

www.millsandboon.co.uk

More Than A Millionaire

By

Emilie Rose

Dear Reader,

I’m a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. When I was bored out of my skull and picked up a magazine last year, I had no idea one article on aviation management companies would launch an entire series ofstories for me. And I had no idea that what I read would give my sons and I so much fun stuff to do together – something we really needed. Thanks to this research and my two oldest sons’ passion for flying, I’ve had a load of new experiences this year, including No. 2 Son flying me to lunch (wow!).

For Nicole Hightower, one devastating mistake leads to her finding the man – none other than Ryan Patrick – and the family she was meant to have. Here’s hoping that happenstance brings you new discoveries that brighten your days and the courage to seize the moment.

Happy reading!

Emilie Rose

Bestselling Desire™ author and RITA^® Award finalist EMILIE ROSE lives in her native North Carolina with her four sons and two adopted mutts. Writing is her third (and hopefully her last) career. She’s managed a medical office and run a home day care, neither of which offers half as much satisfaction as plotting happy endings. Her hobbies include gardening and cooking (especially cheesecake). She’s a rabid country music fan because she can find an entire book in almost any song. She is currently working her way through her own “bucket list” which includes learning to ride a Harley.

Visit her website at www.emilierose.com. Letters can be mailed to PO Box 20145, Raleigh, NC 27619, USA or e-mail EmilieRoseC@aol.com.

JBR, you light up the room (and me) with nothing more than a smile.

No matter what happens, my time with you has truly been a gift I will never regret.

Chapter One

“Define unfortunate incident,” Ryan Patrick ordered the director of the Lakeview Fertility Clinic from the visitor’s side of the ornate walnut desk.

The director’s leather chair creaked, revealing each nervous shift of the man’s body. “One of our trainees neglected to cross-reference the lot number on your sample. He only checked the names and those were reversed. I want to assure you, Mr. Patrick, this is an unusual circumstance. We have many checks and balances in place to—”

“What does this mean? To me. Specifically,” Ryan cut in impatiently. He unclenched his fingers from the arms of the chair, but it was hard to relax when the man in front of him looked like he was about to have a heart attack at any second.

The director inhaled a long, deep breath. “Your contribution was given to the wrong woman.”

Ryan’s abdominal muscles tensed. That would only be a problem if—

“Her pregnancy was confirmed two weeks ago,” the director added.

Problem. One that jeopardized Ryan’s goal of proving to his father that he’d settled down and was ready to take over the reins of the Patrick architectural dynasty. But Ryan was a master troubleshooter. He wouldn’t have climbed this far up the ladder of success if he’d thrown in the towel at every obstacle.

Too bad his father couldn’t see that.

“Two weeks ago? Why am I just now being informed? And what about my surrogate, the woman I hired?”

“We discovered the situation yesterday when she came in for her appointment. She wasn’t inseminated since at your insistence we only had the one vial.”

They’d only had one vial because with the reputation of this place he’d expected them to get it right the first time.

“And you’re certain this other woman is pregnant with my child?”

“Yes, sir.”

Ryan tamped down his frustration. Once he’d decided to take the surrogate route he’d spent months interviewing to find the right candidate—one with looks, brains and good genetics. One who wouldn’t get emotionally attached to the baby she hosted in her womb for nine months and change her mind about handing over his child.

And now the wrong woman was carrying his baby.

“Who is she?”

“I’m not at liberty to release that information, sir.”

Ryan exploded to his feet. “You’re not at liberty to tell me who’s carrying my child?”

“Yes. Confidentiality—”

Ryan intended to get the information one way or the other. He braced his fists on the desk and leaned forward.

“Don’t make me bring a platoon of lawyers in here. Not only will that be financially costly for you, the negative publicity will knock you right off the list of top fertility clinics in the country. This is my kid, and I have the right to know who and where its mother is and whether she’s qualified for the job. I want everything you have on her.”

The director’s face flushed dark red. “Mr. Patrick, I’m sure you understand the privacy of Lakeview’s business—”

“I want her name and contact information now. Otherwise my legal team will be all over you like a bad rash before lunch.”

The man stiffened and swallowed then fumbled with a folder on his desk. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary. Ms. High—our other client seems like a reasonable, understanding woman. Once I explain the situation to her—”

“I’ll handle it. You’ve screwed up enough. You can cover up your mistake with words like incident, circumstance and situation, but the truth is you’ve committed malpractice and negligence.”

Sweat beaded beneath the man’s receding hairline. Ryan eyed him without blinking. Once the man paled, Ryan knew he’d get what he wanted without the aggravation of lawyers. Good. He did not want his father to catch wind of this disaster.

“Ahem. I’ll get you the information, sir.”

Ryan settled back in the chair when the director hustled out. Next on his agenda: find this woman and convince her to give him his baby—the way the surrogate he’d chosen had agreed to.

She would be the best aunt her baby could have.

And it would be enough. It had to be.

Nicole Hightower rubbed one hand over her unsettled stomach and reached for a cracker with the other. She was finally going to have Patrick’s baby.

And Beth’s.

Her fingers spasmed around the stylus of her PDA at the reminder that her dream wasn’t going exactly as she’d once planned.

She shoved the bland whole-wheat cracker into her mouth and tried to focus on the calendar in front of her. She needed to schedule the client’s pilot, crew and plane maintenance for the next three months. She usually loved keeping her customers happy and their travel stress-free, but today her private life kept distracting her from the workload on her desk.

Relinquishing her baby would be hard, but she could handle it because she would be not only a godmother, but also a hands-on aunt. Her sister had promised, and Beth kept her promises. Nicole had always been able to count on her big sister—even at the times when she hadn’t been able to count on their parents. Carrying a child for Beth was the least Nicole could do.

And since her sister would continue to work at Hightower Aviation Management and bring the baby to work every day, Nicole looked forward to going down the hall to the on-site day care and visiting her—Beth’s—baby during lunch. Even from her desk she’d be able to observe her b—niece or nephew. She clicked on an icon on her computer screen and a live feed from the company nursery filled her monitor. The caregivers bustled around, tending to the adorable children of HAMC’s employees.

The intercom buzzed jarring her from her tangled thoughts. She quickly broke the nursery link. “Yes?”

“There’s a Ryan Patrick here to see you.”

Nicole smiled over her assistant’s mistake. “You mean Patrick Ryan.”

“No, I don’t. I’m not talking about your brother-in-law,” Lea whispered. “I’m talking about the gorgeous black-haired, blue-eyed, towering hunk of manhood standing in the reception area. His business card says he’s the VP at Patrick Architectural Designs. That’s one of Knox-ville’s most prestigious firms, in case you didn’t know. Are we expanding again?”

“As far as I know Hightower Aviation isn’t planning to build any new structures.” But then her oldest brother, Trent, the CEO, didn’t tell her everything. As the youngest Hightower offspring until recently, Nicole was often kept out of the loop.

She double-checked her calendar to make sure she hadn’t forgotten an appointment and found no one scheduled for another hour. Then, because she didn’t like to go into a meeting unprepared, she typed Patrick Architectural Designs into her Internet search engine. A series of links popped up on her screen. She chose the one that looked the most useful, clicked and scanned the Web page. There were no pictures of the man in question, only of buildings designed by his company and a brief company history. Impressive. They’d been around awhile.

“Patrick Architectural is a commercial firm with projects across the continent,” she said into the intercom. “Do you think Mr. Patrick might be a potential client?”

Although normally new clients came to her through the sales department after they’d purchased, leased or bought shares in an aircraft.

His name was an interesting coincidence, though.

“I prefer my fantasy to your logic,” Lea quipped.

“You always have, Lea. Bring him back.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Nicole brushed the crumbs from her silk blouse and into the trash can then slid the sleeve of crackers into her drawer. She rose just as Lea tapped on her door and pushed it open.

The man striding into her office like he owned the place was everything her assistant had said and more. Lea hadn’t mentioned her visitor’s short hair had a curl that he couldn’t quite subdue or that his shoulders filled out his navy suit jacket like a tailor’s dream above a flat stomach, lean hips and long legs. And his eyes weren’t just blue; they were an amazingly intense shade of cobalt. Those eyes assessed her now as he would a Learjet he was considering purchasing.

Nicole fought the urge to check her neckline and the corners of her mouth for more crumbs.

“Nicole Hightower?”

Even his voice had a deep and slightly rough sexual fantasy quality. Not that she ever fantasized about clients. That would be totally unprofessional.

And too much like her mother.

She walked around the corner of her desk and extended her arm. “Yes. How can I help you, Mr. Patrick?”

His handshake was warm and firm and electrified.

Giving up caffeine must be having unforeseen side effects on her system. Why else would she experience a faux espresso buzz on contact? She broke the connection as quickly as courtesy allowed.

His intense gaze shifted to Lea and conveyed something that made the redhead snap to attention. “I’ll just…go now.”

Surprised, Nicole watched her usually unflappable assistant hustle out the door and close it behind her.

Nicole reappraised the man in front of her. Besides tall, dark and gorgeous, he had some kind of magical talent. She’d have to figure out what trick he’d used to make Lea leave without saying a word.

Lea wasn’t only an employee. She was also a friend and sometimes the line between friend and supervisor blurred—like when Lea had voiced her vehement disapproval of Nicole’s decision to become a surrogate for her sister and brother-in-law. But that was because Lea knew how Nicole felt about her sister’s husband. They’d been college roommates when Nicole had fallen head over heels in love with Patrick. And Lea had been there to help pick up the pieces after Patrick had eloped with Nicole’s sister Beth.

Lea was convinced that the entire “baby debacle,” as she referred to it, was going to blow up in Nicole’s face now that she was pregnant.

“Please sit down, Mr. Patrick, and tell me what I can do for you today.”

Nicole felt his gaze on her the entire way around her desk as she returned to her seat. Pregnancy had made her breasts larger. She hoped it hadn’t done the same to her behind. Not that she cared what he thought of her butt.

After she sank into her seat he lowered himself into the chair across from her desk. The old-fashioned courtesy surprised her. Fewer and fewer men practiced it these days—especially among the megarich she dealt with through work.

“Congratulations on your pregnancy.”

His words stunned her. She hadn’t told anyone except Beth, Patrick and Lea. The parents-to-be had the right to know, and Lea had caught Nicole heaving a couple of times and guessed. The rest of their friends and family would find out Saturday when Beth and Patrick made the official announcement at the family’s Labor Day picnic. Nicole suspected most people who knew her would be a little freaked out by her decision.

“Thank you. What brings you to Hightower Aviation today?”

“You’re carrying my child.”

His statement knocked her back in her chair. She must have misheard.

“Excuse me?” The words sounded more like a wheeze, but that was because she couldn’t seem to make her lungs work.

“The fertility clinic made a mistake and inseminated you with my sperm instead of your intended donor’s.”

Head reeling, she grasped the edge of her desk. “That’s not possible.”

Her visitor reached into his suit coat, extracted an envelope and extended it toward her. When she didn’t—couldn’t—take it from him he tossed it on her blotter. It slid across the smooth surface and stopped within easy reach. She eyed it like she would a big, hairy, jumping spider.

“The clinic director has written a letter explaining the situation. In summation, my name is Ryan Patrick. Your intended donor’s name is Patrick Ryan. The lot numbers weren’t checked and you were given the wrong sperm because some moron neglected to notice a comma.”

Horror raced through her, making her heart pound and her extremities tingle. “No. You’re wrong.”

He had to be.

“Read it.”

She stared at the envelope. Afraid to open it. Afraid not to. But she couldn’t prove him wrong if she didn’t open the thing. Her hands shook as she reached for it.

The tearing of the seal and the rustle of paper as she unfolded the page sounded unnaturally loud even above the pounding of her pulse in her ears. The letter bore the Lakeview logo at the top and the director’s signature on the bottom. She forced herself to read through the document.

Words jumped out at her. Unfortunate error…Donor mix-up…Apologize profusely… The alarm in her chest and her brain expanded with each line, making it difficult to breathe and think. She read the letter a second time, but the bad news didn’t get any better, and she hadn’t misinterpreted.

Unless this letter was a hideously tasteless joke, she was carrying Ryan Patrick’s baby. Not Patrick Ryan’s, the man she had loved since her junior year of college. The man who’d married her sister.

Please, God, let this be a joke.

“This is not funny.”

Her visitor didn’t crack a smile. “Medical malpractice usually isn’t.”

She had hoped her sister had developed a sudden sick sense of humor. His stoic expression said otherwise. Pressing a hand over her churning stomach, she dropped the page. “There must be some mistake.”

“Yes. Lakeview Fertility Clinic made it. You’re carrying my child as a result.”

“That can’t be right.”

“I wish that were true.”

She stared at the letter while her overloaded mind struggled to process the information and the possible repercussions. For herself. For Beth and Patrick. For the man in front of her. But it was too much to take in.

What now? What if the baby really wasn’t Patrick’s?

She struggled to find her professional demeanor, and the best way to do that was to focus on his problem instead of hers. “I’m sorry. This must be very difficult for you and your wife.”

“There is no wife.”

“Girlfriend, then.”

“No girlfriend, either.”

That confused her completely. “I’m afraid I’m not following.”

“I’ll be a single parent.”

“That’s not unusual for a woman, but isn’t it a little out of the norm for a man? Couldn’t you just get married?”

“I’ve been married, and I don’t ever intend to do so again.”

There had to be a story behind that bitter tone. But she didn’t care to hear it at the moment. She had enough of a mess on her hands. If his story was true. She sincerely hoped he was deranged. A psycho in her office would be much easier to handle than the situation described in the letter. One call to security would fix everything. But this…

He extracted a second envelope and placed it in front of her. “I’m prepared to offer you the same financial and medical support I offered the surrogate I’d hired.”

Taken aback, she blinked. “You hired a surrogate?”

Why would a guy who looked like him need to pay someone to have his baby? Women should be lining up around the block and begging for the privilege.

“A well-qualified, carefully screened surrogate.”

She bristled at his implication that she might be less than qualified to carry his child. For the second time this morning she forced herself to read something she didn’t want to and picked up the contract.

Shocked, she looked up from the document that had her name typed in all the appropriate places. “You want to buy my baby?”

Duh. That’s what surrogacy is, Nicole. But seeing it in black and white rattled her.

“It’s a service contract. You provide a product and a service. I pay you for your time and the use of your body,” he replied as coolly as if they were haggling over the price of an airplane.

A product? Revulsion slammed her chest a split second before an unexpected surge of possessiveness swelled within her. She wrapped her arms around her middle. Until now she’d been ready to hand over her baby to Beth and Patrick. With dignity. Without a fight. But she’d be damned if she’d sell it to this stranger.

“You are out of your mind, Mr. Patrick.”

“It’s my child.”

“It’s mine, too. My egg. My body. My time.”

“My terms are quite generous.”

She tossed the document back at him. He made no effort to catch it. The pages fluttered to the desk. “I don’t care about your terms. Go back to your surrogate.”

“And forget I’ve already fathered one child?”

“Yes. You have no emotional investment here and no financial obligation. You can have another baby much easier than I can. I will carry this child for nine months. Your contribution only took seconds.”

“You’re only eight weeks pregnant. You haven’t had time to bond.”

Her mouth dropped open. She snapped it closed. “Spoken like a man who doesn’t have a clue. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She’d begun bonding from the first moment she’d noticed her taste buds had gone crazy—just days after conception and even before the positive pregnancy test. She remembered the exact moment she’d realized she was pregnant with Patrick’s baby.

According to him it wasn’t Patrick’s baby.

He might be wrong. Please, please let him be wrong.

“I’m sorry. I’m not going to believe your story without proof.”

“You have it.” He indicated the letter by dipping his chin.

“This is not enough.” She’d go through the clinic’s records personally, if need be. And if that didn’t work…there was always DNA testing. How soon could that be done? And was it safe for the baby? She jotted down the questions to ask her doctor.

Her visitor’s jawline hardened. “You’re only twenty-eight. You have time to have other children.”

Unlikely, since her heart was already taken. “You’re not exactly ancient.”

“I’m thirty-five.”

“Women have a shorter window of opportunity for reproducing than men. You can keep fathering children for another fifty years.”

His lips thinned in irritation. “I want a child now, and I’m not walking away and leaving the door open for you to sue me for child support.”

The jerk’s personality did not improve with exposure. Usually she could find something to like about even the most difficult person. Not so here. Other than his physical packaging which was prime.

She took a deep breath and reminded herself that any problem could be solved with patience, politeness and perseverance. Her three P’s never let her down.

“I would never do that, Mr. Patrick. I don’t want or expect anything from you.”

His eyebrows lowered. “You expect me to take the word of a stranger?”

She was too busy reeling over the possibility that she might be carrying a stranger’s baby to care what he thought.

“I’m not interested in your money, and I’m willing to have my attorney draft a document stating that fact and relieving you of all responsibility.”

“That would be useless. You’d have eighteen years to change your mind.”

She wanted to smack him. “Mr. Patrick, I couldn’t give you this child even if I wanted to—which I don’t.”

She pressed her fingertips to her stomach and gathered the words that had become her mantra since she’d committed to this plan. “This baby is not mine. I’m carrying it for my sister and brother-in-law.”

Who might not want the baby if it wasn’t Patrick’s.

Oh my God.

Panic tightened her chest. A cold sweat seeped through her pores. What was she going to do? She certainly wasn’t handing her baby to this knuckle-dragging Neanderthal who acted as if giving up her child would be as easy as giving a panhandler the change from her pocket.

“You’re acting as a surrogate for someone else?”

His clipped words interrupted her chaotic thoughts. “Yes. Patrick Ryan is my brother-in-law.”

“How much is he paying you?”

Appalled, she reared back. “Nothing. This is a gift.”

“I’m offering a hundred thousand, plus expenses. You’re going to give up the kid. Why not to me? You can have his kid next year.”

His cavalier attitude winded her. “I’m not a broodmare.”

She’d geared herself up to do this once. She didn’t think she could handle giving a baby away a second time.

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

“No, thank you. I gave my word.” For once she wanted to come through for Beth instead of having Beth make all the sacrifices for her. She owed her sister a huge debt.

And she wanted to give Patrick something Beth couldn’t.

Not nice, Nicole.

“Tell her you changed your mind. If the egg is yours, then the child is in no way hers or her husband’s.”

She flinched and wished he’d quit reminding her of that.

Adrenaline surged through her veins. If the baby wasn’t Patrick’s then it was hers.

Hers and the Neanderthal’s.

“I signed a contract,” she said more to herself than to him. So where did that leave her? Was the contract even valid if the baby wasn’t Patrick’s?

“Contracts can be broken.”

She needed to talk to her lawyer before tackling the legalities. “You don’t understand. I will be this child’s aunt. I’ll see it almost every day. I’ll get to watch him or her grow up and be a part of its life. I’ll still be family.”

She hated the anxiety sharpening her voice. The idea had sounded so much better before her pregnancy had been confirmed. “Go back to your surrogate.”

“You’re carrying my firstborn and firstborn Patricks have taken over the family firm for three generations.”

“What if my child doesn’t want to be an architect?”

One dark eyebrow hiked. “Why wouldn’t he?”

“Because I don’t have an artistic bone in my body and he or she might take after me.”

“Or he might take after me and be damned good at it. Don’t turn this into a legal battle, Ms. Hightower.”

His threat was clear. The muscles of her spine went rigid and her heart thumped even harder. Her arms tightened protectively around her middle. They’d done that a lot since he’d walked in. “This is my baby.”

“Is it, if you’ve already signed away your rights? As the child’s biological father I probably have more rights to it than you do.”

Fear slithered down her spine. She was very afraid that what he said might be true, but she wasn’t giving up without a fight. She glared at him, silently telling him to bring it on. The stiffening of his features told her he’d received her message loud and clear. He stood and towered over her.

She rose to meet him at his level, but still had to tilt her head back. How tall was he, anyway? Well over six feet.

“This discussion is over, Mr. Patrick, until I talk to my attorney.”

“Do that. Mine will be calling you. But be warned, Ms. Hightower, I always get what I want, and I will be a father to my child. Make it easy on yourself, accept that and don’t prolong this.”

He turned on his heel, flung open her door and stalked out of her office, sucking all the oxygen with him as he went.

Sapped of strength, but conversely filled with an energizing surplus of adrenaline, Nicole sank into her chair. She had to do something to stop him. Because if Ryan Patrick had his way she would be giving up far more than the right to mother her baby. She might never see her child again. And that was not going to happen.

Chapter Two

Apparently it didn’t matter which side of the desk Nicole sat on. Today was her day to receive bad news.

She stared in dismay at the woman in front of her. “You’re saying he’s correct. Ryan Patrick has more right to my baby than I do?”

While her attorney’s smile and brown eyes were sympathetic, they didn’t offer much encouragement. “I’m sorry, Nicole. The clinic confirmed his story. There was a mix-up. Biologically, this is his child unless DNA testing proves otherwise.”

“But my doctor said I couldn’t do prenatal DNA testing without significant risk to the baby. So that’s out of the question.” Nicole had called her in a panic the minute Ryan Patrick left her office. “I don’t think I can stand seven more months of uncertainty.”

“I understand. And it really isn’t necessary since the lot number of Ryan Patrick’s…contribution was found written on your record. Too bad the technician didn’t double-check it beforehand.”

She was carrying a stranger’s baby.

Not Patrick’s.

Disappointment and helpless frustration filled her with an antsy urge to climb out of her skin. “Is the contract even valid since the baby isn’t Patrick’s?”

“The wording states you’re providing them with a child, and that you have no intention of claiming that child. It doesn’t specify paternity. The agreement is pretty ironclad. They used all the right phrases to protect themselves in case you changed your mind, and since we didn’t think that would be an issue, I didn’t strike or amend the clause.”

A heavy weight settled on Nicole’s chest. “I don’t want Ryan Patrick to get custody. If he does, I may never see my baby again. At least Beth promised me I could be a hands-on aunt.”

“But you didn’t get that promise in writing, so it wouldn’t hold up in court. I wish I could say the chances of Mr. Patrick winning at least partial custody were slim, but they’re not.

“This isn’t your fight, Nicole, unless you elect to try and revoke your surrogacy contract which I can tell you will be a tough and expensive battle. If you choose that route you’ll fight your sister and her husband first, and then the winner of your battle will fight the baby’s father.”

A lose-lose proposition. “Breaking the contract would destroy my relationship with my family. I won’t do that. My family is too important to me.”

Her attorney nodded. “Then your first order of business is to talk to Beth and Patrick. Tell them what you’ve discovered. Make sure they still want to adopt this child. Their decision determines your next action.”

The idea of confronting Beth and Patrick and the fear of what they’d say made her queasy. Her dream of having Patrick’s baby had become a nightmare. Or had it? She’d given up long ago on ever having children of her own.

“If Beth and Patrick no longer want this baby, can I keep it?”

“Your odds of winning either way are not good. The day you signed the waiver to relinquish to your sister and brother-in-law you knowingly entered into this agreement with no intention of parenting this child. Precedents in Texas and California have granted custody to the father in similar situations.”

That was not what she wanted to hear. But even if she could keep her baby, what did she know about good parenting? Her parents certainly hadn’t set an example to emulate. They’d been gone more than they’d been at home, and when they’d been at home they both tended to be self-centered. Not a pretty picture despite the united front they presented to the world.

“In the meantime,” her attorney continued, “I’ll pursue legal action against the clinic. Besides their negligence, they’ve violated so many rules and regulations by releasing your personal information to Mr. Patrick without following proper legal channels that the courts and several regulatory agencies will be occupied for a long time.”

“I…I suppose that has to be done to prevent the clinic doing this to someone else. I’ll talk to Beth and Patrick this afternoon.” Until then she had no idea where she stood.

And that was one conversation she dreaded more than anything she’d ever had to do in her life except for smiling through congratulating the man she loved on marrying her sister.

“Nicole, I’d like to caution you to be civil to Mr. Patrick. In my thirty years of experience I’ve learned the more contentious the fight becomes, the uglier and more expensive it gets. People forget about doing what’s right and start fighting to win at all costs.”

Nicole had a sinking feeling Ryan Patrick didn’t like losing, and he could afford to fight a lot longer than she could.

Beth and Patrick’s silence spoke volumes as did the look they exchanged.

Nicole’s stomach cramped with tension while she waited for their response to her bad news. She dampened her dry lips. “So the baby is still yours…if you want it.”

Beth gave her a patient smile. “Of course we want the baby, Nicole. The child is yours and therefore related to us.”

Relief loosened the knots in Nicole’s muscles.

“Beth, a legal battle could be expensive,” Patrick pointed out with his usual pragmatism.

“This baby is a Hightower, dear,” Beth countered. “We can’t let that man break up our family.”

Beth and Patrick shared another long, speaking glance, and a teensy twinge of jealousy pricked Nicole. In the three months she and Patrick had dated before she’d brought him home to meet her parents and siblings she and he had never shared that type of silent communication.

But Beth and Patrick had been married for a long time, Nicole reminded herself. They’d had time to develop those skills. If things had gone differently, if Nicole and Patrick had married as she’d once believed they would, then they would have been the ones with that special bond. Wouldn’t they?

But Patrick had preferred her sister, and Nicole wanted him to be happy—even if it wasn’t with her. He was one of a kind and the only man who’d ever win her heart. She wasn’t like her mother who flitted from one affair to the next searching for some fantasy that didn’t exist.

“Beth,” Patrick protested.

“Nicole is doing this oh-so-generous thing for me—for us—to repay me for looking after her when we were growing up. How could I refuse such a selfless gift? And we do want a baby more than anything, don’t we?”

“Right. More than anything.”

Did Patrick’s tone sound a little bitter and resentful? No. He was just shaken and disappointed by Nicole’s news. He’d wanted to be a father and now he wasn’t…biologically, anyway. And if he was on edge it was only because he and Beth had been trying to conceive for more than three years. The doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with either of them and didn’t have a clue to the cause of Beth’s unexplained infertility.

Thank God Nicole had conceived on the first try. Otherwise—

You’d have come to your senses.

Lea’s nagging voice echoed in Nicole’s head. She squelched it. Her assistant didn’t understand how much Beth had sacrificed for Nicole to have a regular childhood. Beth had forfeited dates, the prom, going to college among other things to play substitute mom while their globe-trotting parents gallivanted frequently and parented sporadically.

Carrying a child for Beth was the least Nicole could do.

“This could get expensive,” Patrick persisted. “You know how much we’re already spending on—”

“On getting ready for the baby,” Beth replied with a tight smile. “Yes, darling, I know. But Nicole doesn’t need to worry about that. She needs someone to take care of her little problem, and taking care of problems is what I do best.” Beth turned to Nicole. “Don’t worry yourself. Big sister will handle everything. Just like I’ve always done.” Nicole stifled a wince. Yes, there had been dozens of incidents when Beth had covered for Nicole—none of which Nicole was proud of these days. But somehow Nicole didn’t feel as confident in her sister’s abilities this time. She wasn’t sure that even the mighty Beth could deter Ryan Patrick from his goal.

Her baby would be happy here, Nicole assured herself as she lugged a mountain of insulated food containers past a black Corvette convertible and up Beth’s concrete sidewalk between rows of blooming dianthus, begonias and hostas.

Beth and Patrick had bought the large two-story traditional brick home with the lush emerald lawn and white picket fenced backyard with a large family in mind. On any given weekend morning children laughed and played in the neighborhood, riding their bicycles in the cul-de-sac. What more could any child want?

And what more could any woman want for her child?

You’ve made the right decision. All you have to do is keep Ryan Patrick from upsetting your plan.

The smell of roasting meat filled the air, made her mouth water and thankfully, distracted her from her negative thoughts. She’d been running since her feet hit the floor at five this morning, and she’d barely had time to eat a granola bar for breakfast and swallow her prenatal vitamins.

Letting herself in Beth’s side door the way she always did, Nicole checked the kitchen. Empty. That was odd since there was so much to do before the guests arrived at noon. Beth and Patrick were probably getting dressed.

Nicole deposited the food she’d prepared for the party on the counter then put the cold items in the fridge and the warm items in the oven on low heat.

Next on the agenda, the backyard. She stepped onto the stoop, scanned the fenced area and smiled. The weather on this first weekend in September couldn’t be more perfect for a picnic. The sun was out, but the expected afternoon high temperature wouldn’t be too hot or too cool. This close to autumn it was difficult to anticipate what Knoxville’s weather would be when planning weeks or months in advance as she always did.

The additional tables she’d rented had been delivered and set up on the grass. The party supply company had draped the tables with red-and-white checkered cloths and decorated each with a potted blooming red or white geranium as Nicole had instructed. Everything looked bright and cheerful, the perfect place to announce the family would be growing.

A lanky apron- and ball cap–wearing man stood by the massive grill on the edge of the large flagstone patio.

“Good morning,” she called out as she approached him. “I’m Nicole Hightower.”

He nodded and shook her hand. “Bill Smith. Your renta-chef. Great day for a pig pickin’.”

“Yes. Do you have everything you need, Bill?”

“Yes, ma’am. Pig’s ‘bout done. I just put on the chicken. Veggie skewers will go on in a few minutes.”

Her stomach rumbled in anticipation, but she had too much to do to get ready for the others’ arrivals to take time for a snack. “Excellent. Please help yourself to a soda or iced tea, and don’t hesitate to ask me for anything you need.”

“Thank you.”

She lifted a lid on a nearby cooler and found it filled with ice and canned sodas and bottled water as requested. The second cooler revealed more ice and beer—the varieties her brothers preferred and a couple of magnums of champagne. Perfect. She’d definitely use this party company again. Letting someone else do the grunt work was far better than making Patrick and Beth get up at the crack of dawn to attend to the tasks or racing over here to do it herself.

Beth hated planning events. That’s why Nicole always landed the job, and she didn’t mind because making sure things ran smoothly was sort of an obsession with her. Now more than ever. She brushed a hand over her belly.

The family picnic was a Labor Day weekend tradition—one she’d started herself after Beth and Patrick had married. If anything needed to run smoothly, today’s event did. For the most part her family members got along well, but this year they’d have not only the stress of Nicole’s pregnancy news to contend with, but also the pressure of the newest Hightower—a younger half sister none of them had known about until a month ago when she’d shown up on their doorstep and their mother had insisted she be given a job at Hightower Aviation.

Having a living, breathing reminder that her mother was a bit…um, free with her affection had been unsettling to say the least. In the past everyone including their father had pretended not to notice Jacqueline Hightower’s indiscretions, and no one talked about her affairs. It would be hard to ignore the situation with her mother’s love child at the family gathering. And how had her mother hidden a daughter for twenty-five years, anyway?

Nicole headed back to the house. From the kitchen she followed the sound of Beth’s voice toward the living room. Her sister’s tone wasn’t the one she used when talking to Patrick. Some of the nonfamily party guests must have arrived early. Probably the owner of the convertible.

“The child is not yours.” The deep voice stopped Nicole in her tracks in the foyer.

Ryan Patrick was here. Talking to Beth.

“The baby is Nicole’s,” Beth replied.

“Sweetheart,” Patrick interjected in that gentle, patient tone of his that Nicole adored. “You do understand that Mr. Patrick is offering us a lot of money to accommodate him.”

Nicole’s mouth dried and panic caused her heart to gallop. That devious bastard was trying to bribe her sister and brother-in-law into giving up her baby.

If he brainwashed Beth and Patrick, he could cut Nicole out of the child’s life altogether. She wasn’t going to let that happen.

She rushed into the room. “How dare you go behind my back?”

Ryan slowly unfolded from the leather wingback chair. His cobalt eyes locked with hers. “I’m going to the ones who have the power to make a decision—the right decision to allow this child to live with his natural father.”

She couldn’t help noticing the way his charcoal suit, pale blue shirt and crimson tie accentuated his good looks and athletic frame. But pretty is as pretty does, or so one of their many nannies had always said. And what Ryan Patrick was doing was downright ugly.

“I told you, you’re not getting this baby.”

He shoved the lapels of his suit coat aside and planted his hands on his lean hips. “If you’ve consulted your attorney, then you know that you don’t have any say in the matter.”

Unless she went to war with her family. And even then her chances were slim. She glanced at Beth and Patrick and hugged her churning middle. She couldn’t start a family feud. Her mother had wreaked enough havoc on them all over the years.

Patience, politeness and perseverance. Her motto echoed in her head. Every problem had a solution. All she had to do was find it. In the meantime, she’d have to be nice to the jerk if she wanted any chance of wringing a positive outcome from this situation. She hated sucking up to blowhards, but she’d mastered the skill.

“Could I speak with you outside a moment?” she said through a smile stretched so tightly her cheeks hurt.

Ryan gestured toward the door.

Trying to ignore the delicious tang of his cologne, she accompanied him to the center hall then led the way to the back door. He reached past her to open it for her. She marched across the backyard, heading toward the gazebo in the back corner of the lot with Ryan close on her heels. Too close.

Inside the jasmine-draped structure she put as much distance between them as the shelter would permit before facing him. How could she make him see reason?

“Do you have any brothers and sisters, Ryan?” His name felt awkward on her tongue. But she couldn’t keep calling him Mr. Patrick. Each time she said his last name she thought of the man inside the house—the man whose baby she should be carrying.

“No.”

So much for appealing to his family nature. He didn’t have one. “Then you can’t possibly understand how important it is for me to have this child for my sister.”

“That’s irrelevant. It’s not her kid. It’s mine.”

She couldn’t argue with facts. She took a calming breath and tried a different tactic. “She has been yearning for a baby for years, and she’ll love this one as if it were hers. How much experience do you have with children?”

“I’ll learn what I need to know.”

The stubborn blockhead. She had to find a way to convince him that the baby would be better off with Beth and Patrick. But how? The answer was almost too easy. She smiled.

“As you can see from the setup, we’re having a party in a few minutes. It will be mostly family with a few friends and neighbors thrown into the mix. Please join us.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“So you can see what a great life Beth and Patrick can give this baby. The child will be surrounded by a loving family. He or she will have aunts and uncles and soon, cousins. My sister-in-law is expecting to deliver just a few months before me.”

“You won’t change my mind.”

Maybe not. But it was a risk she had to take if she wanted to be a part of her baby’s life. “All I ask is that you keep an open mind and see what you’re determined to deny this child. Join us, Ryan…unless you’re allergic to good food and good company.”

He stiffened at her implied challenge and accepted her dare with a slight dip of his chin. But his drilling stare warned her he wasn’t going to make this easy for her. For the next four hours she would have her work cut out for her in convincing him to change his mind.

Her baby’s future and her role in it depended on her success in making Ryan Patrick agree to go away empty-handed.

Forty people milled about Beth and Patrick Ryan’s backyard. But only one held Ryan’s attention. Nicole Hightower.

He shouldn’t find her attractive. She wasn’t his type. He liked his women curvy and soothing. Nicole bordered on too slender and restless. Not only could she not stand still for more than thirty seconds, but also her lean build didn’t include the matronly “breeding hips” he’d chosen for his surrogate. Yet he had no problem imagining her nursing a baby at the small, but firm-looking breasts outlined by her sundress.

Not a thought he needed to entertain since that would not happen with his child. His child would be bottle-fed by a nanny from day one.

Nicole’s aqua eyes turned his way, hitting him with another megavolt jolt of awareness. She’d nailed him with a similar glance several times this afternoon, and he couldn’t prevent the unwelcome gut-jarring reaction each time their gazes met.

He didn’t want a relationship with her other than a contractual one. If all went according to his plan, she’d have his kid, hand it over and get out of his life. He didn’t want her underfoot and interfering. He didn’t need the drama.

Nicole indicated his beer with a slight nod. He shook his head. Drinking to excess didn’t mix well with sexual attraction unless he intended to end up in bed with the object of his attention. He’d done that often enough in the past couple of decades to push his father into concocting the stupid stipulation that Ryan prove his stability and maturity if he wanted to take over the reins of Patrick Architectural upon his father’s retirement next summer. If Ryan failed, his father had threatened to sell the firm. That made ignoring the chemistry between him and Nicole imperative because another short-term affair—no matter how hot it might burn before it fizzled out—wouldn’t help his cause.

A breeze lifted Nicole’s long hair away from her face. He preferred the wavy caramel-colored strands loose and swishing between her shoulder blades instead of twisted up on her head the way they had been the day he’d confronted her at her office.

Not that his preferences counted.

Genetically, she should produce a good-looking kid. She was more attractive than the surrogate he’d hired. Her face was fine-boned and full-lipped, her smile quick and frequent—except when she looked at him. Then the stretch of her lips was slow and forced as if having him here were a pain in the rear.

Another thing he’d noticed this afternoon, Nicole was a toucher. Every time someone got close enough, she reached out and brushed a hand over their arm or shoulder or kissed a cheek. That’s why he’d kept his distance. He didn’t want a repeat of the zap she’d delivered with that first handshake the day they’d met. Chemistry was great. Unless it was unwanted. Then it was nothing but trouble.

He scanned the yard, passing over each of the Hightowers. He’d bet Nicole would look exactly like her mother in forty years. She possessed the same slender build, same features. Behavior-wise, other than the high energy level, Mamma Hightower was the opposite of her daughter. Whereas Nicole was friendly, but reserved, her mother was flirtatious, gregarious and sexually aware of every move she made in that way well-maintained wealthy older women exhibited when they’d been the type to bring men to their knees in their younger days.

Nicole’s father, a silent loner who nursed his imported beer in the shade of a tall oak tree, only spoke to those who sought him out. Her older twin brothers looked identical, but one was a player and the other appeared to be an unhappily married man with an eye that often strayed from his pregnant wife to the female guests.

Ryan’s gaze skimmed over neighbors and other company until it landed on Beth and Patrick Ryan huddled in the corner of the patio. They were arguing. Again. Ryan had caught several heated exchanges between them during the past three hours.

Nicole might believe this was the perfect setup for raising a child, but Ryan sensed trouble in this suburban, cookie-cutter paradise. The tension between the couple was palpable from fifty feet away, and it had been even more obvious when he’d presented his offer before the party. Just one more reason to make damned sure he got full custody. He didn’t want his kid to be a bone of contention in an ugly divorce the way he’d been. And he’d bet his Corvette, his boat and his motorcycle the Ryans would land in divorce court sooner than later.

Beth reminded him of his mother. She wore the same self-suffering martyr attitude his mother had pulled in the years after she’d packed up a ten-year-old Ryan and moved away from her husband. Millicent Patrick had spent the next eight years using Ryan as a weapon against his father and bitching about his father’s mistress—work.

Her complaints had fallen on deaf ears. A love of architecture was something he and his father had had in common even back when Ryan had been a snot-nosed kid. For as far back as he could remember, Ryan had spent hours beside his father’s drafting table asking questions, begging to be allowed to “help.” His father had always indulged him until the separation after which he’d had little time for his only son.

Work was the only mistress he and his father respected or committed to for the long haul. Women couldn’t be trusted or counted on. A lesson he’d learned the hard way compliments of his ex-wife, the lying, cheating bitch.

His gaze shifted to the youngest Hightower. She interested him because as much as she resembled her mother and Nicole, she didn’t fit in. The roar of her Harley splitting the silence of the neighborhood had been his first clue. Like him, she was an outsider here. Not even Nicole’s frequent attempts at drawing her sister into the crowd could breach the gap between her and the rest of the siblings. And Nicole seemed to be the only one making an effort to include her sister.

The Hightower in question looked up, caught his eye and headed in his direction. Her black leather boots and jeans-covered legs crossed the lawn with a long stride. In the past the rebel in her would have called to the rebel in him. But for some reason, her wild side didn’t twitch his interest today.

She stopped in front of him. “You don’t look like one of Beth’s snooty neighbors.”

Ryan smiled. He’d made the same assumption about the guests’ attitudes. He offered his hand. “Ryan Patrick and, no, I don’t live in the area.”

Her eyebrows rose when she heard his name, but she didn’t comment. Her handshake was firm and brief with no sparks despite her resemblance to her sister. “Lauren Lynch.”

She looked enough like Nicole that he would have sworn they were closely related. “You’re not a High-tower?”

“Jacqueline is my mother, but William isn’t my father. My father died a couple of months ago. And before you strain your brain trying to unravel that long, boring story, my mother had an affair with a Hightower Aviation pilot. I’m the byproduct. She delivered me, left me with my dad and returned to her husband and other children like a good little wife.”

That explained the tension between Lauren and the Hightower siblings. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

She shrugged. “Thanks. Losing my dad was hard, but his passing gave me the opportunity to meet a family I didn’t know I had. So what brings you here? Are you a Hightower Aviation client?”

He wasn’t ready to reveal the truth. “Not yet, but I’m considering contracting the company.”

Access to a plane would make his life easier since he traveled the country on a regular basis. He definitely wanted to contract one of the Hightowers. But not for flying.

“Married?” Lauren asked.

He gave her credit for being direct. “Not anymore. You?”

“No way. Never have been. Probably never will be. Do you have any children?”

“Not yet.”

Lauren glanced down at her beer bottle then back up at him through lashes as long and thick as her sister’s. “Can I give you a hint?”

About what? “Sure.”

“Nicole’s probably the most decent one in the bunch. Maybe even the only decent Hightower. But she’s going to be a hard nut to crack because…Well, she just is. I’ll let you figure out the whys. Stick with her. She’s worth it.”

Were all women born with a matchmaking gene?

“What makes you think I’m interested in Nicole?”

Lauren grinned and sipped her beer. “Could be the way you’ve been watching her all afternoon.”

Guilty. But how else was he going to learn about the mother of his child? He searched for her. Nicole had joined her sister and brother-in-law and was currently engaged in a hushed but animated conversation. Nicole covered her belly with one hand. Her gaze bounced over the crowd and landed on Ryan. He didn’t know what her sister had said to upset her, but the distress on her face was clear. Adrenaline shot through his system.

“Go ahead,” Lauren prompted.

“Go ahead and what?”

“Ride to her rescue. You know you want to.”

Smart girl. “Is Nicole the type to need rescuing?”

Lauren grimaced. “Let’s just say if I were her, I would have told this bunch of leeches to go to hell a long time ago. But she’s the one deputized to maintain the peace.”

Lauren was full of interesting factoids. One of these days he’d buy her dinner and pick her brain. “Nice meeting you, Lauren.”

“You, too, Ryan. And good luck.”

He wasn’t going to need luck. He had the law on his side.

His feet carried him across the grass to the trio. “Problem?”

Beth shook her head and gave him a disingenuous smile—the only kind he’d seen from her to date. “We’ve decided against announcing Nicole’s pregnancy today.”

He liked the sound of that. The longer they delayed, the more time he’d have to prepare for the possibility of the entire Hightower clan siding against him. The extra time would give him time to plot a new strategy.

But why would the decision to keep the news under wraps upset Nicole? He searched her face, but didn’t find his answer.

Little did she know, she’d done him a favor by showing him the dissension amongst the Hightowers, and she’d given him ammunition toward suing for sole custody.

He needed to divide and conquer the trio wanting a piece of his kid, starting with the weakest link. Nicole’s brother-in-law, the greedy bastard.