Kitabı oxu: «A Baby Between Them»
The Forget-Me-Not Friends
Harrison Kincaid—During his childhood Harrison and his sister, Nessa, spent all of July and August on Summer Island with their parents. In his thirties Harrison married Simone and became the CEO of his family-owned communications business based out of Seattle.
Aidan Wythe—Raised by his mother in Seattle, Aidan has been Harrison’s best friend for as long as he can remember. They went to Yale together and Aidan is Harrison’s right-hand man at Kincaid Communications.
Emerson Cotley—A local on Summer Island, Emerson took over the family landscaping business after his parents were killed in a car accident.
Jennifer March—Her family owns the Lavender Farm Bed and Breakfast on Summer Island. She and Simone were best friends.
Gabe Brooke—Gabe owns a real estate business on Summer Island, as well as the local newspaper. He married Harrison’s sister, Nessa, after Harrison married Simone.
Simone DeRosier—A renowned jazz singer and pianist, Simone started spending her holidays with her father on Summer Island when she was fourteen years old. She coined the phrase “Forget-Me-Not Friend” in her first Grammy Award-winning hit.
Dear Reader,
In this book I’m taking you back to Summer Island, a locale I introduced this June in the Signature Select Saga novel, You Made Me Love You.
I first dreamed of Summer Island when my family and I spent a holiday with my sister’s family on Saltspring Island. We had a grand time lazing on the ocean shore, hiking in the rolling hills and kayaking on the becalmed sea. One of the highlights for my city-slicker daughters was setting traps for crabs with my brother-in-law Gord. I couldn’t believe it when those picky little children actually ate them, too!
As we explored the Gulf Coast island, I knew I had to write a book about this place one day. No, not just a book, a three-book series. I wasn’t sure what the stories would be about, but I started with a picture in my head….
Five friends sitting around a bonfire on the beach late at night. They’re roasting marshmallows and drinking and kidding around with the ease of kids who’ve known each other all their lives. Then someone new asks to join their group…and their futures are altered forever.
I hope you enjoy this story. The concluding book of this trilogy, Secrets Between Them, will be available in October from Harlequin Superromance. Be sure to watch for it.
If you would like to write or send e-mail, I would be delighted to hear from you through my Web site at www.cjcarmichael.com. Or send mail to the following Canadian address: #1754—246 Stewart Green, S.W., Calgary, Alberta, T3H 3C8, Canada.
Sincerely,
C.J. Carmichael
A Baby Between Them
C.J. Carmichael
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
PROLOGUE
Summer Island
AIDAN WYTHE DIDN’T make friends easily, so when the new girl suddenly appeared on the beach in the moonlight, his instinct was to nod politely, and then turn away. His friends Harrison Kincaid and Gabe Brooke, however, reacted quite differently. Harrison scrambled to his feet. Gabe offered her a drink.
“That’s a good fire.” The girl moved closer to the bonfire, holding out a hand as if she were cold.
She was beautiful. No, more than that. Stunning was a better word.
“It’s even warmer over here.” Gabe patted the surface of the log he was sitting on in invitation.
The girl hesitated. “Are you sure I’m not interrupting?”
“Yeah, actually, you are,” Aidan said. Something about her made him uneasy. Just because Harrison and Gabe were already drooling didn’t mean they should invite her to join them. The five of them had been having a great time without her. Aidan looked to Jennifer for support, but even she was frowning at his comment.
“Don’t mind him,” Jennifer said.
“Yeah,” Gabe added. “Aidan was bit by a rabid dog when he was a kid. He’s never been the same.”
Aidan told Gabe what to do with himself. But everyone else laughed. And the new girl sat down.
“My dad and I are here for the summer. My name’s Simone. Simone DeRosier.”
Gabe and Harrison both repeated her name as if to make sure they would never forget it. What idiots. They were still gawking as if they’d never seen a pretty girl before.
“I’m Gabe Brooke. I live here on the island, and these are my friends.” Gabe went around the fire, pointing as he spoke each of their names: “Emerson and Jennifer are locals, too. Aidan and Harrison are from Seattle.”
“Hi, Simone. It’s good to meet you.” Harrison leaned closer and offered his hand.
Aidan cringed. God, Harrison. Shaking hands was what grown-ups did. Not sixteen-year-old guys who were just hanging out on the beach.
But Simone smiled as brightly as if Harrison was the coolest dude she’d ever met.
“It’s nice to meet you, too, Harrison.” She turned to girl beside him. “Is this your girlfriend?”
Jennifer laughed. “No, we’re just friends. We’re all friends.” She pushed her blond hair off her shoulders. “My parents own a bed-and-breakfast on the north end.”
“My folks have a landscaping business,” Emerson added. “We live on Oyster Bay, just a few miles from here.”
Finally Simone’s eyes settled on Aidan. “That leaves you, Aidan. Where do you stay when you’re on the island? Do you rent a place in town?”
He didn’t answer, so Harrison filled in. “He and his mom own the cottage across from our place. Aidan and I go to school together in Seattle. We’re planning to be roommates when we go to Yale.”
“Cool. Have you guys known each other long?”
“Basically all our lives,” Emerson said. “Our moms used to bring us to this beach when we were little kids.”
“How lucky for you.” Simone sounded genuinely envious. “Well, thanks, Aidan, for letting me barge in on the party like this.”
Why would she thank him, when he was probably the only one who didn’t want her here? He looked up from the fire and scowled. He didn’t care if she knew he didn’t like her. Harrison and Gabe were fools. Their tongues were going to be caked with sand if they didn’t shove them back into their mouths pretty soon.
Simone wrapped her arms around her knees and leaned forward. “So what do you like to do?”
“Volleyball. Swim. Hang out,” Jennifer said. “How about you?”
“I like those things, too.” She paused a moment. “Do any of you sing?”
“Around the campfire, you mean?” Aidan’s voice dripped with scorn. He’d known he wouldn’t like this girl. “Not since I was a Boy Scout, when I was ten.”
“But then you’re tone-deaf, Aidan.” Harrison offered the insult with the casual air of a lifelong friend. “My mother makes me and my sister, Nessa, take piano lessons. How about you, Simone? Do you sing?”
She nodded and faked a shy look. She didn’t fool Aidan, though. He knew she was dying for the chance to show off. Sure enough, less than a minute later, Gabe and Harrison had convinced her to sing for them.
She surprised Aidan by picking an old-fashioned jazz tune. And then she surprised them all by how impossibly wonderful she sounded.
When she stopped, Aidan couldn’t think of even one cutting thing to say. In fact, no one spoke at all for several seconds. And then, suddenly, everyone was gushing.
“You’re unbelievable….”
“Are you sure you’re not a professional…?”
“I’ve never heard anyone…”
Simone sat back on the log and soaked it all up. For a moment her eyes settled on his and he saw the self-satisfaction in them.
You witch, he thought. She was going to mess up everything this summer. He just knew it.
CHAPTER ONE
Summer Island, twenty-three years later
AIDAN WYTHE NOTICED the rental car parked in front of the house where he’d be staying for the next three weeks, but at first he didn’t think anything of it.
Twenty minutes ago he’d driven off the ferry, officially starting his first real vacation in several years. Now he pulled his convertible into the driveway, cut the engine and just sat for a moment.
Here he was, back in Canada, on Summer Island.
He closed his eyes and focused on the scent of the ocean and the feel of the gulf breeze in his hair. Memories, both good and bad, teased his mind like the wind. No matter how many times he returned as an adult, it was always his childhood that came back to him first.
Most of his recollections were of happy hours spent beachcombing, swimming and picnicking with his friends. The five of them had had their disagreements, but they were always minor and had been patched quickly and with little resentment.
All that had changed, however, the summer they turned sixteen—when Simone DeRosier joined their circle. It was that summer that innocence had been lost and the seeds of obsession and evil that would tear the group apart were planted.
Aidan rubbed his forehead, opened his eyes. Just thinking of the famous jazz singer—dead now, murdered by one of their own—stirred up his old resentments. He didn’t want to hang on to them, but still…
Everything had been so easy before Simone arrived on the scene. Unfortunately, Aidan had been the only one to see that she was trouble. He wasn’t sure what had tipped him off. Her uncommon beauty, a certain look in her eyes, the stunning power in her voice when she’d first sung for the five of them.
She’d instantly captivated Harrison, Gabe, Emerson and Jennifer, and for years after that she’d played them off against each other, all the while pretending that they were the best friends in the world.
She’d even immortalized their friendship with a song: “Forget Me Not, Old Friend” had been a big hit and had won her a Grammy. From that moment on, the press—and eventually even the five of them—had referred to themselves as the Forget-Me-Not gang.
Personally, Aidan hated the label.
Not that it mattered anymore. There was no gang left to speak of. Not with Simone and Emerson dead, and Harrison and Gabe not speaking to each other. Gabe hated Harrison because he was the one Simone had married. Harrison hated Gabe for seducing and marrying his baby sister, Nessa, then making her so miserable that she’d finally divorced him.
With friends like those, who needed enemies?
Aidan sighed, then slipped off his sunglasses and tossed them on the dash. From the driver’s seat of his Mustang convertible, he contemplated the gracious home that had belonged to the Kincaid family for three generations. Through decades of upheaval this house was the one thing that hadn’t really changed.
The old Victorian was a stalwart structure, built with its back to the sea, the broad front verandah providing an open welcome to family and guests alike. A Gothic-style second-story turret, where Simone had once composed her music, overlooked an ancient cedar forest that formed the heart of the island.
Much as Aidan wanted to remember the place as it had seemed to him in his childhood—warm, inviting, almost magical—he couldn’t help recalling that this was where Simone DeRosier had been murdered.
And now he was supposed to vacation here. To relax. Just because his office staff thought he was overstressed from too much work.
He jumped out of the convertible without opening the door, then went round to the back and removed his luggage from the trunk. He paused and glanced farther down the road to Pebble Beach. Wooden stairs led from a modest parking lot to a naturally protected cove. He remembered summer nights sitting by a bonfire on the beach, then later strolling along the boardwalk that led all the way back to town. He, Harrison, Emerson, Gabe and Jennifer had had a lot of fun in those pre-Simone days.
Aidan hefted an expansive duffel bag over his shoulder, then had another cursory glance at the rental car parked next to the driveway. Must be someone visiting the yoga studio across the road. He dug Harrison’s key out of his jeans pocket and headed for the front door.
Last time he’d been on the island—about a year ago— Harrison had been in residence. He’d been investigating the circumstances of Simone’s death, and then, along the way, he’d fallen in love with his real estate agent, Justine Melbourne. No one had been more surprised than Aidan when Harrison and Justine succeeded in proving Simone’s death had not been suicide, but murder.
Harrison could be fiercely tenacious when he wanted something. Like this stupid holiday idea. Harrison had all but packed Aidan’s bags and filled his car with gas, he’d been that anxious to get his friend out of the office in Seattle. Just because Aidan had called Harrison while he was sleeping with a great idea for a merger target.
“It’s three o’clock in the morning, Aidan. You need to get a life.”
But it had been a great idea….
Never mind, maybe he had been guilty of overworking this last little while. But he had to, didn’t he? Otherwise, if he weren’t careful, he’d be thinking about things that were better forgotten.
Aidan dropped his bag to the porch floor. The wooden boards looked freshly stained. The entire property was well-maintained. He glanced back at his car, wondering if he should put up the roof. But the clear sky held no hint of a summer storm.
What had brought him back to this place for his holiday? Sure Harrison had offered the use of his house, but money wasn’t an object—Aidan could have traveled anywhere in the world. It was almost as if he couldn’t stay away, as if the island had laid a claim on him, a claim that had to be settled.
Gloomy thoughts, man. You’re supposed to be on holiday, remember?
He inserted his key into the lock, then pushed the door open. Immediately, he was accosted by an acrid smell. A second later, a loud crash sounded from the back of the house where the kitchen was.
What the hell? Harrison had told him a cleaning crew would have the place stocked and ready for his arrival, but this couldn’t be them, could it?
And then it hit him. The driver of that rental car wasn’t at the yoga studio, after all.
RAE CORDELL HAD READ the instructions on the plastic wrapper that was now lying on the counter. It wasn’t that complicated. “Remove from packaging and place loaf on a cookie sheet in a prewarmed 325 degree oven. Bake for thirty to thirty-five minutes, until the bread is golden brown and sounds hollow when tapped.”
Yes, it had all sounded very simple. But Rae knew that if anyone could screw up baking a loaf of oven-ready bread, it would be her.
She peeked in the oven, and the yeasty aroma that greeted her made her gag. Oh, God. She had to get to a washroom. Quick.
Just hours ago, she’d been craving a slice of thick bread, slathered in butter. Now, the scent of the baking dough made her ill.
Rae kneeled over the toilet, and when she was done, mopped off her face and then checked her reflection in the mirror above the sink.
What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she do the things that seemed to come to other women so easily? Like cooking. And being pregnant.
Everyone knew morning sickness ended after the first trimester. Yet here she was, well into her eighth month. And the nausea still struck without warning and often at the most inopportune times. Like during Thursday afternoon staff meetings. And business dinners with important financiers. No wonder she’d been invited to take an expenses-paid vacation until the baby was born.
Oh, Harrison’s wife had been very sweet on the phone. Justine had said that since she and her husband were planning to spend August in Seattle, their summer home would be vacant. Why didn’t Rae take the opportunity and allow herself a well-deserved vacation?
Justine’s suggestion had been echoed by the executive assistant who worked under Rae at the Pittsburgh office of Kincaid Communications. The human relations director in Seattle had called for a “personal chat” and so had the VPs for Finance and Marketing. In fact, Rae had heard from almost everyone at the corporation except for the one person who really counted: her direct boss, acting CEO Aidan Wythe.
Rae placed her hands awkwardly over the huge mound of her abdomen. The man who got me in this predicament in the first place.
Her pregnancy had been common knowledge for at least the past three months—it wasn’t the sort of news one could hide forever—and she’d spent weeks dreading the prospect of hearing from him. But he hadn’t come to the Pittsburgh office in all that time. He hadn’t even called. Finally, it dawned on her that he didn’t intend to face up to the situation. Knowing men, Rae figured that he’d probably convinced himself someone else was the father.
Well, Rae had no interest in dissuading him of that notion. In fact, the more she reflected on her situation, the more she came to think that Aidan’s disinterest worked perfectly with her own plans.
This way, she didn’t need to consider anyone’s needs but hers and the baby’s.
The timer on the oven sounded again, and Rae was forced to head back to the kitchen. As soon as she stepped out of the bathroom, she knew something was wrong.
The bread was burning. She ran to the oven, slipped on oven mitts and opened the door. The top of the loaf was scorched black. As she pulled it out, her thumb pressed through a worn spot on the oven mitt.
Yikes! She dropped the pan and it clattered loudly against the granite-topped counter. It was in the ensuing silence that she heard the footsteps. Someone was in the house and heading her way.
Rae knew she’d locked the door after her morning walk. Was she about to be robbed? Raped? She reached for the hot pan, ready to hurl it if she had to. As she closed her gloved hands over her improvised weapon, a man stepped into the kitchen.
“Oh!” She stifled her scream at the moment of recognition. Damn it, this wasn’t possible, was it? Separated from her by a ten-foot, granite-topped island, Aidan Wythe looked almost as startled as Rae felt.
“Aidan?” She spoke the name as if his identity might be in doubt, but of course it wasn’t. Damn him, he looked good—even with windblown hair, and dressed in a casual T-shirt and jeans rather than his usual Armani suit and tie.
Oh, my Lord.
She dropped the pan to the countertop for the second time. Fighting an urge to run from the room, she gripped the counter for balance.
Why wasn’t he saying anything? What was he doing here? Rae swallowed, and drew in a long breath. The staccato pounding of her heart made her feel as if she’d just run up a long flight of stairs.
“This can’t be happening.” She closed her eyes, then opened them, hoping this apparition would disappear. Big surprise—it didn’t.
Aidan crossed his arms. Frowned. “What are you doing here?”
“Shouldn’t that be my line?” Must be the baby she was carrying, but she was having a hard time catching her breath. She leaned a little harder against the counter, trying not to wish that she looked slightly more presentable.
She was still flushed from her morning walk, and she hadn’t changed from the baggy T-shirt and shorts that she wore for exercise. Surely no one expected an extremely pregnant woman to look that good, anyway.
Not that it mattered. This was Aidan Wythe. The man she’d thought was so different…so sensitive, so deep. And he’d turned out to be the biggest jerk of all.
“Harrison told me his house was vacant for the month of August.” As Aidan spoke, his gaze raked over Rae, and she could almost hear him listing all the flaws he must be seeing. Messy hair that hadn’t been washed in days, no makeup, terrible clothes.
Whereas Aidan looked…absolutely delicious. More handsome than ever, not to mention calm and collected, even though—as Rae now understood—he hadn’t expected to see her here, either.
Well, that explained one mystery. She should have known he wouldn’t have been looking for her.
“Funny,” she said. “That’s exactly what Justine told me.”
Aidan blinked, surprise registering in his enigmatic, dark eyes. Finally, he broke the visual connection and crossed the room to the windows. The Pacific Ocean, deceptively calm on this late-summer day, dominated the view through all three picture windows that ran the length of the combined kitchen and dining area.
Rae stayed where she was, watching him push his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and trying not to admire the way the dark denim outlined slim hips, long legs, tight ass.
Ah, hell, it wasn’t fair. Aidan had never looked better. Shouldn’t men like him come marked in some way to warn innocent women of the potential danger? He hadn’t asked her how she was feeling, hadn’t even acknowledged the fact that she was pregnant. He really was a cad.
Now she glanced at the spot where he’d been standing earlier and saw a very large duffel bag. And suddenly the ramifications of the problem before them increased significantly.
“You came here for a vacation?”
“Yes.” He swung round to face her again. “How long are you planning to stay?”
Rae looked at him, incredulous. He had to be the most self-centered man on the planet. “Why, until the baby’s born, of course.”
Aidan’s hands dropped to his side. His face went blank. “Baby?”
Stepping out from behind the island, Rae rounded her hands over her large belly. Good grief, his face. It was almost as if…
“Oh, my God. Rae, why didn’t you tell me?”
Pulsuz fraqment bitdi.
