The Pregnancy Negotiation

KRISTI GOLD THE PREGNANCY NEGOTIATION

Published by Silhouette Books America’s Publisher of Contemporary Romance To Houstonians Sandy and Paul W. who set the perfect example of what a good marriage is all about.

Contents Acknowledgments

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Coming Next Month

Acknowledgments: To the members of West Houston RWA for their invaluable information on residing

in the fourth largest city in the United States.

One “L et’s have a baby, Whit.” Most men would be shocked out of their shoes over the abrupt request, but Whitfield Manning IV wasn’ t most men. Because of his status and wealth, he’d become accustomed to propositions from various and sundry females, although this particular proposition was a first. Most women were interested in the benefits of consummation, without any possible consequences. But Mallory O’Brien, attorney at law, his best friend’s sister and his own roommate of four months, wasn ’t like most women. She didn’t fawn all over him, didn’t care about his bank account. She did enjoy handing him grief on a daily basis. Obviously this was just another one of her ploys to get his attention. Whit continued to peruse the sports page and muttered, “A bagel sounds great, O’Brien. Add some of that cream cheese, will ya?” “I didn’t say bagel. I said baby. B-a-b-y.” Fortunately, Whit was a multitasker. He could read the current baseball stats and still humor her. “Sure thing, but my schedule’s pretty tight at the moment.” He studied the ceiling and pretended to think. “I can probably do you at lunch on Tuesday, on top of the conference table, right after I get approval of the Barclay headquarters’ design. I’ll have my secretary mark it down on the calendar.” In spite of the randy images rolling around in his mind, Whit went back to the newspaper. But before he even finished the western division standings, Mallory snatched the section from his grasp, wadded it up and cannon-balled it across the room. “Whit Manning, just stop and listen to me for a minute.” He glanced up to see her standing over him, all five feet, ten inches of curvaceous female folly with shoulder-length, dark auburn hair and translucent green eyes that she aimed on him in a hard stare. The loose-fitting, red and white heart-spattered pajamas rode low on her hips, giving Whit a gander at her navel, where the skimpy matching top didn’t quite meet the bottoms. He should’ve known better than to give her the set for her birthday last month. He really should’ve known better than to walk in on her last week without knocking. But how was he supposed to know she liked to slather her body with lotion while sitting on the end of her bed, naked? Big mistake, especially for a man who hadn’t been involved with any woman in months. Oddly, he hadn’t felt the need to find a woman since Mallory had moved in. He chalked that up to establishing a comfortable rapport with his roommate, not his desire for celibacy. Or any real desire to take their relationship to another level. At least he didn’t think so, or really didn’t think about that at all. At least not more than twice a day. He needed to end his current dating slump fast, before he did something really stupid, such as try to seduce her. And, in turn, ruin their friendship. Another potential mistake. And that “potential mistake” continued to glare at him as if he were primordial slime, which would be justified considering his primitive thoughts. Whit gave her a champion scowl, not difficult because right now he was pretty ticked at himself for staring at the big heart decal centered between her breasts, his gaze wandering right, then left. Next year, he would buy her that damn smoothie machine she’d always wanted. A much safer gift as far as his sanity

was concerned. He straightened and sent her his well-practiced grin, the one that had saved him from many a woman’s wrath on more than one occasion. “Okay, O’Brien, you have my undivided attention. Did I forget to wash my beer glass? I know I didn’t leave the seat up because I haven’t been in your bathroom.” Not that he hadn’t considered joining her in the shower a time or two. She dropped down on the sofa beside him, hugged her legs to her chest and rested her chin on her knees. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Today. And I’m dead serious. I want to have a baby. With you.” The shock finally arrived and slammed into Whit full force. If he’d been wearing any shoes, they’d be across the room next to the Sunday Times about now. “Are you insane?” After lowering her feet to the floor, Mallory shifted until she faced him, one arm resting over the back of the sofa, one hand fisted on her lap. “No. I’m determined.” Her somber expression prompted Whit’s concern. Damn, this was getting even more confusing. “Why the hell would you even consider having a baby with me?” “Because I trust you, Whit. Because you’re my friend. And I know you’re safe.” He wasn’t feeling particularly safe at the moment, or savvy. “Maybe I’m a little slow on the uptake, Mallory, but you still haven’t fully explained this crazy notion of yours.” She squirmed and grabbed a pillow to her chest, covering her breasts and alleviating at least one reason for Whit’s sudden urge to squirm, too. “I’m thirty now. It’s time. My biological clock is getting noisy.” “So hit the sleep button. I’m thirty-three, and the thought of having a kid hasn’t crossed my mind.” She twisted the corner of the pillow until Whit thought she might rip it open. “Men are different. You can conceive a child in your eighties. Women don’t have that luxury. My eggs are getting older. Your sperm will stay young for years.” Instead of the usual legal jargon, the words sperm and eggs coming out of Mallory’s pretty mouth sounded kind of strange. But thinking about the process of joining his and her reproductive parts sounded like an enticement Whit couldn’t refuse. But he had to refuse. This was nuts. He also had to get out of there before Old Man Libido carted off his common sense. Without offering a response, he moved onto the nearby ottoman, grabbed up his running shoes, pulled them on and tied them so tightly he expected his toes to drop off due to lack of circulation before the first lap. Normally he would exchange his jeans and T-shirt for more appropriate running gear, but he didn’t have a minute to waste. “Where are you going, Whit?” He glanced at Mallory, who was still seated on the couch, choking the pillow even tighter. “I’m going for a run. And while I’m gone, do me a favor. Return to your mother ship and send the real Mallory back home.” She rolled her eyes and plopped the pillow into her lap. “This is so typical.” He stood and frowned again. “Typical? Nothing about this whole conversation is typical, at least not in this dimension.”

She tossed the pillow aside, came to her feet and shortened the distance between them with two strides. “Not the baby thing. The way you’re always running away. That’s typical.” Typical Mallory. She was nothing if not a straight shooter, even if she wasn’t always right. “I’m about to run, but not away.” Okay, so this time she was right. She propped both hands on her hips. “Yes, you are. Just like you’ve been running away from starting your own business because you can’t stand up to your father. Do you ever do anything you want to do without his permission? Maybe that’s the reason you won’t even consider this. You know he wouldn’t approve.” Damn her insight. And damn him for being more open with her than he had with any woman in his past. “I ’m designing top-rate buildings, and I’m getting richer by the minute. Nothing wrong with that.” “But you’re not happy about it because you want to build houses. You said so yourself.” Right again. “And you think having a baby with a man like me would make you happy? A man with a commitment allergy? You said that yourself.” She looked as frustrated as Whit felt. “I’m not asking you to marry me, for heaven’s sake. I just want to have a baby. Then you can go your way, and I’ll go mine. No complications.” “No strings attached, huh? I’m supposed to just walk away from my child and let you play single mom.” That he couldn’t do, even though his own mother had walked away. “No, that’s not what I want. You should be involved. And considering what I see day in and day out, bitter custody battles and divorces and kids used as pawns, I know we can bypass all of that because we ’re good friends. Neither one of us would let our child suffer through that BS.” Man, she had totally lost it. And Whit was about to lose it, too. Big-time. “Forget it. It ain’t gonna happen.” She gave him a pleading look. “Just think about it, Whit. You could be my only hope.” Before Whit did something he might regret, like actually agree to this unbelievable scheme, he tore out the front door and slammed it behind him. He opted to ignore the elevator and sprinted down nine flights of stairs and rushed out of the exit leading to the street. He continued down the sidewalk at a fast clip, dodging the crush of Sunday strollers pushing baby carriages. Once he reached the nearby park, he navigated past the patrons enjoying Mayfest activities and made his way to his favorite jogging path along the bayou. He went into a dead run, all the while thinking his roommate had taken leave of her senses— and imagining what it would be like to have a baby with Mallory. Correction. What it would be like to make a baby with Mallory. Whit pulled up dead in his tracks and swiped a hand over his forehead, the afternoon sun bearing down on his already overheated body. He wasn’t ready to father a child. In fact, he’d always been extremely careful in his relationships—and there had been more than a few—to avoid that very thing. Even if he were ready, he sure as hell wouldn’t walk away from his own kid, despite that Mallory would make a great mother. Regardless of the fact that his father had told him more times than he could count that he wasn’t responsible in his personal life. Like Whitfield the third had room to talk, with three marriages under his belt. But wouldn’t his dad have to eat his words if Whit did agree to Mallory’s plan? Wouldn’t that just be a damn sight to see when Whit dropped that bomb?

He shook his head to clear away that concept, but he couldn’t quite shake the fantasy of making love with his roommate. No can do. If he laid one hand on Mallory, her brother would torture him first and ask questions later. He needed to run a couple of miles. Maybe then he would be too damn tired to act on impulse before weighing the consequences. Maybe when he returned, Mallory would tell him it had all been a bad joke. And maybe when he walked into work tomorrow morning, he would discover his father was retiring, giving Whit the freedom he craved. Not very likely any of those things would happen, so he turned around and headed back home to talk it over with his roommate like an adult. But he still couldn’t escape the images of making love with her, or ignore the desperation he’d seen in her eyes and heard in her voice during her final comment before his speedy exit. You could be my only hope. He had to know why. And he had to know now. As soon as he ran just a little more.

She shouldn’t have blurted it out that way. But to Mallory it had seemed the only way to handle it. Upfront and straightforward. When she wanted something badly enough, she pulled out all the stops to get it—namely, achieving the position of associate in her prestigious law firm, which she’d managed much quicker than most. After living with five older brothers, she’d learned to fight for what she wanted. Now she wanted Whit Manning, the perfect father candidate—six feet three inches of a prime tribute to testosterone. He had a great body, a good sense of humor, dark chocolate eyes like her mom’s and an inherent compassion that he often tried to hide with machismo. Most important, he had a brain and extreme talent as an architect. He was also a player, known for his talents with the ladies, or so her brother Logan had told her time and again, dating back to the days when Whit was a fixture in their home during high school. But when she’d decided to relocate closer to her office to avoid the forty-minute commute, Logan had trusted Whit enough to suggest Mallory move in with Whit until she found her own place. Of course, that had been four months ago, and she was still living with him in the expensive downtown Houston loft he’d received from his dad as a graduation gift upon obtaining his master’s degree. An exclusive two-story corner apartment—over two-thousand square feet of prime upscale property situated in a restored building with a rooftop pool and an unparalleled view of the city from myriad windows spanning the length of the living room walls. The arrangement had worked out amazingly well, better than Mallory had expected. Whit hadn’t pressured her to find her own apartment, and she had stopped searching about three weeks ago when she couldn’t locate anything convenient to work. At least anything she could afford—yet. Eventually she would need to find someplace else, maybe a nice little house in the ‘burbs. Something suitable for a child. And she would have that child—if Whit Manning cooperated. If Whit Manning ever came home again. Mallory had almost given up on that happening when the door opened and Whit walked in, looking way too sexy for a man who needed a shower in the worst way. His dark hair clung to his nape, and sweat had left a fine sheen across his forehead. His dampened white T-shirt shirt molded to his broad chest, leaving no room for doubt that the man worked out often. Mallory’s neglected hormones received a vigorous workout when Whit crossed the room and dropped down in the chair opposite the sofa where

she sat, cotton balls stuffed between her half-painted toenails, and her brain stuffed with some fairly wicked thoughts. Stopping midpedicure, Mallory tightened the top on the polish and set the bottle on a tissue on the chrome end table. “Well?” He raked a long glance down her body and centered his gaze on her toes. “Hot pink looks good on you. Makes your feet look sexy.” Mallory wanted to laugh over that one considering her feet were much too big—size ten. “I’m not asking advice about nail polish. I want to know if you’ve thought any more about my proposal.” He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his thighs and clasped his hands together between his parted knees. “That’s all I’ve been thinking about. And I’m also thinking you’re leaving something out. So spill it.” Mallory laid a palm on her chest and tried to look innocent. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Yes, you do. I can see it in your eyes.” Darn, he was good. Mallory imagined he was good at everything. She could probably find plenty of female references to attest to that fact, if only she could find his little black book. But his prowess in bed shouldn’t matter to her, as long as he got the job done and got her pregnant. If she could convince him to agree. She stiffened her frame and resolve and brought out all the well-rehearsed reasons for her decision, minus the most compelling one. “First of all, my parents are in their seventies, I’m the baby and the only girl. I’m not sure how much longer they’ll be around and I want my child to know them.” “In this day and time, they could be around twenty or even thirty more years.” Strike one. “If I’m lucky, but I’m not sure I’ll find the right guy in twenty or thirty years. Prospects are at a premium. Not to mention, I don’t have time to date.” He looked altogether skeptical. “But you will have time to have a baby.” “I’ll make the time.” “What about your goals to become full partner?” She pulled the cotton from between her toes on the foot she had finished and balled them in her fist. “I can still do that. If I have a baby now, then I can concentrate on my career by the time he or she starts to school.” “What about artificial insemination? That seems to be the norm these days for women who don’t want partners.” She tossed the discarded cotton onto the table next to the polish. “I’ve considered that, but I don’t want a stranger fathering my child. Plus, that’s one shot once a month and hormone treatments. And it can be expensive. I personally believe nature is the best way to handle this, unless that doesn’t work. Then I’ll explore other options.” He frowned. “Are you saying if I agree to do this, you want to handle it the natural way?” She countered his scowl with a grin. “Unless I buy a supersize syringe.”

Without cracking a smile, Whit stood and began to pace the length of the room. “You don’t want the marriage and the proverbial picket fence first?” “That sounds nice and all, but I’ve been the marriage route before. Remember?” “Yeah, I remember. Gary.” “Jerry.” The jerk. Whit faced her and streaked one hand through his hair. “Oh, yeah. I never liked that guy.” “As it turned out, neither did I. I expected more than a year of marital bliss. What I got was a year of an immature male who spent most of his time finding ways to get out of the marriage. And he was successful when the sorority girl showed up at my door with her large, um, knockers.” He hinted at a smile. “I still don’t understand why the hurry to marry him.” As always, most everyone believed that she and Jerry had rushed to the altar at age twenty because of an unplanned pregnancy. That unplanned pregnancy hadn’t happened until later. “If you must know, my upbringing dictated you didn’t do the deed unless you were properly wed.” “You were a virgin?” “Oh, yes. As pure as homemade soap. My mother was so proud.” And that experience had been less than gratifying. In fact, her whole married sex life had been less than gratifying. Whit pointed at her. “Which brings me back to your parents. I don’t think they’re going to approve of you having a baby out of wedlock.” “Maybe so, but I don’t intend to tell them.” Now he really looked perplexed. “Are you just going to hide the pregnancy then show up for a family dinner with a baby? Surprise, Mom and Dad, look what I found on my doorstep.” “Of course not. I’m not going to tell them until I do get pregnant. If I get pregnant. It could take a while.” “Why would you think that? You’re young and healthy.” Now was the time to tell him the truth, at least most of it. She didn’t have the strength to tell him about the baby she’d lost five months into her doomed marriage; not even her family knew about that. And she couldn’t even begin to explain the soul-deep cavern she’d carried around since the day she’d miscarried, though she hadn’t been ready to be a mother back then. Now she was ready. More than ready. She patted the cushion beside her. “Come and sit.” He complied, dropping down on the opposite end of the sofa, leaving a good two feet between them. Mallory twisted her pinkie ring round and round, the one her parents had given her upon her graduation from law school. Plain gold with a tiny diamond chip, and presented with much love. The same love she wanted to give to her own child, if she ever had her own child. Drawing in a deep breath, she prepared to explain as best she could. “I went to the family doctor for my annual checkup a couple of weeks ago, and when I told him I was considering pregnancy, he sent me to a fertility specialist.” He looked more than a little worried. “Why?”

“Because when I was younger, I had a minor infection that he believes damaged one fallopian tube and ovary. That means I’m basically running on one cylinder.” “I’m sorry, Mallory.” His tone and expression indicated he truly was. “Is it painful?” “No, but it could make timing the conception a little more difficult. I’m prone to having irregular periods.” “Oh.” Mallory rolled her eyes over Whit’s obvious chagrin. “Come on now, Manning. You can’t be that embarrassed, talking about the monthly curse with me.” “It’s not something that usually comes up in our conversations.” “Not now, but it did when you used to hang out with my brothers. Don’t you remember that Irish slang they used to torment me with? ‘Mallory, you’re in a foul mood. You wouldn’t be jammin’, would you?’” Whit grinned. “Oh, yeah. And I also remember what you used to say to them. ‘Shut up or I’ll be jammin’ my knee in your yockers.’ You really scared me back then.” His smile evaporated. “You’re kind of scaring me now.” “I don’t mean to scare you, Whit. Other than those few problems, I’m fine. And if you think about it logically, it’s just a simple agreement between us.” “Simple?” He didn’t bother to hide his astonishment. “You’re talking about having a baby, not signing a contract for a health club membership.” “I know. But we don’t have to make it that complicated. We try to have a baby, and if it doesn’t work, then we can say we gave it our best shot.” His grin reappeared, the one that suspended Mallory somewhere between arctic chills and equator heat. “I guarantee it works.” “I imagine it does.” With great clarity, she imagined it. “Does this mean you’ll do it?” He remained silent for a few moments, yet Mallory saw something akin to understanding in his expression. “This is that important to you?” “Yes, it is.” “And if I agree to this, you’re sure you won’t object to me being involved with our child, after we both move on?” “As I said before, I’d want it that way. Raising a child is a lifelong commitment.” Whit swiped both hands over his face and stared straight ahead. “If I live that long.” “What do you mean?” “Logan isn’t going to like it.” Mallory had predicted the friends-to-the-end loyalty between Whit and her brother might be a negative factor. “You let me worry about Logan when the time comes.” If the time came. “I’m still not sure this is a good idea.”

Mallory scooted over to Whit’s side, using the last of her trump cards in an effort to persuade him. “You know, the whole process could be fun. Unless you find the prospect of having sex with me totally appalling.” He visually followed the movement of her fingertips as she ran them up and down his very toned bicep. “Are you trying to seduce me into making a decision, O’Brien?” “What do you think?” He leveled his dark eyes on her. “I think you should consider you’re challenging a man who hasn’t been with a woman in a while.” “That’s not necessarily a bad thing.” Before Mallory could prepare, he had her back against the sofa and his body pinning her in place. “Are you sure you still want to do this, Mallory?” How stupid to think Whit wouldn’t answer the challenge immediately. She swallowed hard around the nervous knot in her throat. “That depends on what you’re about to do.” “I’m going to kiss you.” Mallory suspected he was trying to scare her out of the decision. She wasn’t going to let him. “No kisses until you give me your answer.” He brushed her hair away from her face and framed her jaw with one palm. “What if you hate the way I kiss? Would you still want me in your bed?” A sharp, shaky breath slipped out between her parted lips. “Your kissing ability wouldn’t matter. Whether you’re up for the challenge of consummation would.” He gave her a lopsided grin and glanced down before meeting her gaze again. “What do you think?” She thought she might dissolve into the expensive tan suede sofa when she, in turn, looked down and noticed some activity stirring below his belt. “I think you’re a normal man. Say the word sex, and here comes the salute.” When she pulled her gaze back to his face, he lowered his mouth to less than an inch from hers. “Maybe I should shower before I give you my answer. I’m feeling pretty dirty right now.” Mallory was having some dirty thoughts of her own. “I know. It reminds me of the times you used to come in with Logan following football practice. A regular pheromone fest. Those football pants did enhance your assets.” He slid his thumb along her jaw. “If I can find a pair, does that mean I have a better chance of scoring?” “Have you not been listening to me? I’m a sure thing. Ready and willing.” He collapsed against the couch and moved as far from her as the cushions would allow. Seconds ticked down, turning into minutes while Whit remained quiet, obviously deep in thought. Mallory held her tongue for the time being, giving him the opportunity to consider his answer carefully. And the waiting was pure agony. He sighed, interrupting the silence. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“You will?” He turned his head toward her. “Yeah, I will. I’m probably crazy for agreeing, but if this is what you want, then I’ll try to give it to you.” On a rush of adrenaline and sheer joy, Mallory climbed into his lap, straddled his thighs and held his face in her palms for a succession of wet kisses on his cheeks. She pulled back, intending to tell him he wouldn’t regret it, but the look he sent her halted her speech. Granted, she’d been out of the dating loop for a long time, but she could still recognize I-want-you in a man’s eyes. Except Whit had never looked at her that way before. Ever. Without saying a word, he circled her nape with one hand and pulled her mouth to his. If this kiss served as his resume, as far as Mallory was concerned, he was hired. A tempered touch of his tongue to hers, a soft sweep, a heady thrust and she was reacting in ways she hadn’t in years, if ever. She might actually enjoy the consummation. But that couldn’t happen now. Not yet. Oh, boy. He deepened the kiss, not giving her a chance to protest. How could she when he was occupying her mouth with such tender urging? When he was draining her thoughts dry as a winter skin with his expertise? Even though Mallory truly didn’t want it to end, Whit obviously did when he broke the kiss. “Was that satisfactory, O’Brien?” Satisfactory? Had it been any better, she might have been naked about now, disregarding her ultimate goal. “As I’ve said, this isn’t about your skills, Manning. We’ll go into this arrangement knowing it’s for the sole intent of procreation. You don’t have to feel obligated to prove anything to me in terms of your proficiency as a lover. And you don’t have to—” Kiss me again, dammit. But he did, slowly, seductively, persuasively. This time, Mallory pulled away, with great effort. “I can already tell you’re going to be trouble.” His smile made him part devil, and all devastating male. “And I feel like I’ve been remanded to stud service.” “In a way, you have.” She climbed out of his lap and stood on wobbly legs. “Now go take a shower, my little stud muffin.” When she turned away, he slapped her bottom. “Sure thing, my little broodmare.” She faced him again, arms crossed at her middle to conceal her onset of trembles. “I don’t think I like being called a broodmare.” “If I’m a stud, then you’re a broodmare.” He laced his hands behind his neck and assumed an insolent posture. “One more question.” “Yes, Whit?” Why did her voice sound so shrill? In the courtroom, she never let anything throw her off course. But she’d never faced Whit Manning, and all his masculine arrogance, in a courtroom. Eventually she would have to face him in the bedroom, and she doubted she would have the strength to object to anything he might ask of her. “Do we begin the breeding process tonight?” he asked in a low, compelling voice. “No. In three days.”

His arms dropped to his sides and his smile dropped from his face. “Three days? Why?” “Because I should be ovulating then.” If she was lucky. Mallory grabbed up the polish and started away before she decided to kiss him again. “I’m going to finish my toenails then work for a while in my bedroom.” He was on her fast, taking her arms and turning her around. “After I’ve gone out on a limb to agree to this, you’re really going to make me wait? What am I supposed to do in the meantime?” “Build up sperm.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re kidding, right?” “No, I’m not. Normally I’d tell you to get a handle on it, but that’s not an option this time. I’m sure you’ll manage. Think of it as preparation, sort of like a boxer training for the big fight.” “Just so you know, I’m going to be walking funny for the next three days in anticipation.” As she headed toward the chrome stairs leading to the bedrooms, Mallory couldn’t stop her laughter though it was more nervous than jovial. She also couldn’t stop the tiny bite of fear over the decision they had made. She was going to have a baby with her roommate. At least she was going to try. And the “trying” part thrilled her and frightened her. Whit Manning wasn’t a man who did anything halfway. If that kiss was any indication, she suspected that would hold true when it came to lovemaking. One thing she had to remember—no love would enter into the equation, aside from brotherly love. Only sex for the sake of a child, no more than three days at a time, once a month. No great expectations. No emotional entanglement beyond friendship. Otherwise, she could very well begin wanting more from him than a baby. Yet another thought kept nagging at Mallory’s cluttered mind. Where she had agonized over the decision for weeks, Whit had agreed to the plan in less than an hour. And although he was well known for his spontaneity, Mallory still worried that come morning he might change his mind.

Two H e must be out of his mind. He sure as hell was out of his element, at least when it came to fathering a child. After all, what did he know about raising a kid? Not a thing. At the moment, he tried to immerse himself in the familiar—his job as head architect and vice president at Manning Development Corporation. But he couldn’t concentrate on much of anything, so he sat at his desk in his cushy downtown office, his skull gripped firmly in his hands. He had a meeting with the design team in twenty minutes and a headache pounding his temples as if he’d been on a four-day drinking binge. But he hadn’t had a drop to drink. He had spent one restless night tossing and turning and worrying that agreeing to Mallory’s pregnancy plan had been a huge mistake. One thing he did know, Mallory was right about his commitment phobia. So far his marriage examples had fallen short. His father had two failed marriages on his resume and a third that didn’t look promising, and his mother had left her only child behind. One year after the divorce, Julia Manning had taken off for parts unknown with only the excuse that she needed to “find herself.” He’d gone to live with his dad after that and had befriended the O’Brien family. The O’Briens had been great, his proverbial port in the storm, but he’d never gotten over his mother’s abrupt departure, or the fact that she’d stopped all

communication beyond an occasional birthday card. No congratulatory phone calls after his graduation from high school or college. Not even a “Hi, I’m still alive and kicking and I think about you often.” In a way he’d blamed his father’s need for control for his mother’s quick exit. Yet Whit had to admit that his dad had taught him everything he knew about architecture, even if he did have the temperament of a demonic drill sergeant. Taught him every facet of building—from design to construction—as a matter of fact. Since that time, Whit had felt he owed his father a debt. But that debt was costing him his dreams. Someday soon, it would have to end. Too bad it wasn’t today, Whit decided when Field breezed into the room, looking golf-tanned and prosperous, his hair silver sleek, his expression royally pissed off. When his father shoved his hands into his pockets and strolled toward the desk, Whit braced for the usual weekly lecture. “You’ve screwed up, son.” Hadn’t he heard that before? “Good Monday morning to you, too, Dad. What did I supposedly screw up this time?” “Barclay told me last week you only incorporated three conference rooms into the design instead of four. That kind of mistake is unacceptable.” Whit clung tightly to his anger but kept it secreted away for the moment. “Actually, old man Barclay changed his mind after the initial design was complete. And I fixed it while you were off on your little weekend getaway with the new wife.” Whit’s new stepmother, Rebecca, who was all of six years Whit’s senior. Whit enjoyed these moments the most, when Field Manning knew he’d been bested. But as always, his father recovered quickly in order to get in another dig. Today it came in record time. “You look like hell, Whit. Obviously you’ve been spending a lot of time bed-hopping. That’s a distraction you can’t afford, especially during this particular project.” Whit held back the string of curse words clamoring to climb out of his mouth. “You know something, Dad. What I do in my off time is none of your business. But for your information, I’m not involved with anyone right now. If that changes, rest assured you’ll be the last to know.” Field’s jaw went as rigid as his frame. “I’m glad you’re not involved with anyone. You’re not ready to settle down.” Whit shoved aside the latest issue of an architectural magazine and clamped his hands together on the desk. “You’re right, I’m not ready to settle down. Considering the example I’ve had, I may never be ready.” Anger flashed in Field’s dark eyes, the only true sign of his slipping composure. “I’m not even going to justify that with a response. I had valid reasons for ending my marriages. I just happened to spare you the dirty details.” “Details as in your need to keep a tight rein on everyone in your life and if they dare challenge you, they’ re history?” “Believe what you will, Whit, but at least I’ve had relationships that lasted longer than a few weeks.” In other words, it wasn’t Field Manning’s fault. It never was. Whit made an exaggerated show of checking his watch before turning his attention back to his father. “Anything else you’d like to criticize,

Dad? I’ve got a full schedule today. But I could mark off a few hours for you tomorrow. You might want to bring a complete list of my shortcomings.” “Sarcasm is unbecoming, Whit.” “You taught me that, too.” Field stared at him for a long moment. “Maybe I have made my share of mistakes, but I deserve more respect considering everything I’ve done for you since your mother left.” You owe me, echoed in Whit’s mind, even if those hadn’t been his father’s exact words. He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Yeah, Dad, I know what you’ve done for me. You remind me often enough. But it seems to me that’s what you do for your kids, help them out. And you shouldn’t expect someone to bleed in return.” “I don’t expect you to bleed. I do expect you to be grateful for what you have. And it would be nice if you’d grow up.” With a palpable arrogance, Field strode out of the room and closed the door behind him with more force than necessary. Whit contemplated his father’s words for a few moments and then came to a surprising conclusion. He could be responsible and he had the prime opportunity to prove it—both to himself and to his hypercritical father. He could be a better father, and in turn, a better man. He would give Mallory the baby she wanted and, by doing so, rise above Field Manning’s continuous condemnation. He would stick around to help raise his child, unlike his own mother. And he planned to enjoy every moment, making the whole process pleasurable for both him and Mallory. That consideration might be the only thing that would get him through this godforsaken day.

Mallory was on edge, starving and exhausted. To make matters worse, she had a gorgeous, seminaked man in her kitchen. His kitchen, she conceded. But did he have to drop in wearing only a skimpy black towel draped low on his narrow hips? Odd thing was, she’d seen him in a towel before, but at the time she hadn’t been planning to be impregnated by him. That alone made her curious about certain aspects, namely what he had lurking beneath that towel. Just the thought made her feel as if she had warm, male fingers drifting up and down her body. Maybe there was hope for her hibernating libido yet. To provide some distraction, she lifted the lid on the pan and stirred the array of mixed vegetables. Distraction was short-lived when a very masculine hand came to rest on her shoulder and the very male specimen pressed against her back. “Smells good,” Whit said. So did he, Mallory thought, only he smelled like summer-fresh soap. He radiated heat like a hot summer sidewalk. She replaced the lid but didn’t dare turn around. “It’s carrots and peas and potatoes.” “What’s in the oven?” “Halibut.” He stepped away from her, providing some relief from the heat. “You know I hate any kind of seafood.” Mallory turned and folded her arms across her chest. “You told me you haven’t eaten it since you were in grade school. I think it’s time you give it another shot.” “Why?”

She opted for a fractional truth. “Because it’s good for you.” If she knew what was good for her—which she didn’t—she’d stop staring at the tuft of hair centered in the middle of his chest. Stop staring at the indentation of his navel peeking out from the low-slung towel. Stop her gaze from going any lower, which, of course, she didn’t. “What’s this?” Mallory glanced up to see Whit holding a slip of paper. Damn her wandering eyes. If she hadn’t been gawking at his manly attributes, Whit wouldn’t have found her little list. When she tried to grab it out of his clutches, he raised it above his head. Mallory was taller than most women, but Whit was taller than many men. And he was stronger and quicker, something she realized when he clasped both her wrists in one large hand and held the paper up to read it. His grin arrived slowly. “‘Deciding Your Baby’s Gender the Old Fashioned Way?’” When he loosened his grip, Mallory took advantage and yanked the page from his hand. “It’s just a few tips,” she said as she folded the paper into a small square and shoved it into her jeans’ pocket. “Something I found interesting.” He leaned a hip against the counter and deepened his grin. “You found it on the Internet.” Mallory turned back to the stove and stirred the veggies that didn’t need stirring. “Yes, I did. Do you have a problem with that?” “Not a problem, but I am surprised.” She afforded him a quick glance. “Why? It’s good to be prepared.” “I agree, and I expected you to find some kind of how-to guide because that’s in line with your personality. But relying on old wives’ tales? That shocks the hell out of me. And honestly, I don’t believe any of it.” “As I’ve said before, sometimes the old ways are the best ways. And you might as well face it, you don’t know everything about me.” “But I plan to.” That drew her attention to his face, particularly his trademark grin. “A girl has to have some secrets, Whit.” “And a guy has ways of uncovering them, one by one.” A shiver scanned the length of Mallory’s spine. “You wish.” “I know.” Greatly needing a subject change, Mallory told him, “Speaking of making babies, go look on my bed. I bought something for you today.” “If it’s performance enhancers, I don’t need them.” Mallory considered that she might need them when coming up against Whit Manning’s talents. “I bought you some boxers.” His smile withered into a scowl. “I prefer briefs.”

“It’s only temporary. You can go back to wearing whatever you like after…you know.” He inched closer to her side. “After we procreate?” “Yes.” “Mind if I ask why this is necessary?” Mallory shrugged. “Supposedly it’s best if you’re somewhat unencumbered.” “What if I just wear nothing at all?” He grinned again. “You know what they say, if you love them, set them free.” Mallory laughed but it ended abruptly when his hand went to the knot on the towel. “Don’t you dare!” “Why not? I could just walk around the house naked and unencumbered.” A really nice idea, Mallory decided, before jerking herself back into reality. “Not a good idea, Whit.” At least not yet. He folded his arms across his chest, enhancing the bulk of his biceps. “Does this have something to do with that list?” “Yes.” “Wearing boxers helps determine the sex of a baby?” “That’s what they say.” “They being who?” “The people who came up with the list.” He rubbed his chin. “Just one more question. You hoping for a boy or a girl?” “Actually, a girl.” “What if I want a son?” That macho attitude didn’t surprise Mallory a bit. “You have a fifty-fifty chance.” He pointed at her pocket. “Aren’t you stacking the odds against my choice by using those tips?” She smiled. “I thought you didn’t believe in them.” “I don’t, but I’d prefer not to take any chances, just in case.” Mallory decided to use the one thing men always seemed to relate to—the act itself. “I get to be on top.” “Guess we’ll have a girl then.” They exchanged a brief smile before the moment turned rife with tension. The kind of tension that came with the tug and pull of desire. Mallory saw it in Whit’s dark eyes—a powerful, dangerous kind of desire. He took her hand and rubbed her knuckles over his shadowed jaw. “After dinner, are you interested in priming the pump?”

She forced her eyes to remain on his face, focusing on the single strand of damp hair falling across his forehead. “My pump or yours?” “Both.” Avoiding Whit’s continued perusal, Mallory pulled out of his grasp and turned back to the stove. “Go try on your boxers and I’ll put dinner on the table. I thought we would eat out on the verandah since it’s such a nice night.” He patted her bottom and she jumped like a freaked-out frog. “You do that.” After he left, Mallory went through the motions in a haze, filling the plates and setting them out on the round, glass-topped patio table situated on the balcony beneath a blue-striped umbrella. As the largest in the building, Whit’s loft spanned a good deal of the ninth floor, and the wall of windows in the living room, as well as the balcony, provided a breathtaking view of the street below lined with sports bars and shops, the lights of the downtown skyline twinkling in the distance. Mallory strolled to the railing to survey the coral sunset, her favorite time of day and her favorite scene. Yet the familiar atmosphere seemed somewhat surreal this evening. Things were changing between her and Whit; that much she knew. She supposed preparing to have sex with a man, according to a well laid-out plan, would present some changes—and challenges. She had to keep everything in perspective. Had to remember this was Whit, her friend. Her roommate. Nothing more would exist between them. Nothing could. Granted, Whit was a great guy, but he was also a player. She’d made the fatal mistake of marrying one of those before. She wouldn’t make the mistake of falling for another, no matter how tempting Whit Manning might be. Even if she found the courage to go anywhere he might take her in terms of lovemaking. Considering past experience, she wasn’t certain she could. Tucking that little reminder away for the time being, Mallory sat down and waited for Whit’s return. Several minutes passed before he appeared at the sliding glass doors leading into the den, wearing the boxers she’d bought on her lunch hour. A giggle bubbled up in her throat and rushed out on a full-fledged laugh. Whit, on the other hand, did not look amused. But he did look cute as could be in the red thigh-length drawers, a bright yellow happy face centered strategically over the fly. He looked down, then up again. “You’re kidding, right?” Mallory let another little laugh slip out before she asked, “You don’t like them?” “I look like a joke.” He looked like a dream come to life, as far as Mallory was concerned. “Who’s going to see them?” “Since we’re nine floors up, probably no one. But if I wear them to work, the guys will see them.” Mallory drummed her fingers on the table’s edge. “Not unless you plan to go to the office without your slacks.” That pleasant image slipped into her brain—Whit wearing his dress shirt and nothing else. And she was really losing her grip on reality. Whit rubbed a hand over his bare belly, drawing Mallory’s undivided attention. “I do have to take bathroom breaks now and then.”

The old “communing at the urinals” thing, talking about the baseball score and scoring in general, according to her brothers. Mallory had always wondered over that whole concept. Women tended to gather at a vanity, which seemed much more civilized. “You have your own private bathroom, Whit. Besides, you shouldn’t be so worried about what other people think. I personally think they’re precious.” His face screwed up into a scowl. “I don’t do precious. And I don’t do boxers, either.” Mallory placed the black cloth napkin on her lap and smoothed it with one hand. “Relax. I bought you a few more. Plain ones. Navy, your favorite color, made of silk for those moments you feel really sexy.” Her insides did a little jig just thinking about him in those. Whit yanked back the cushioned chair and slumped into it, followed by a sigh. “Where are these sexy boxers?” His tone held a note of suspicion. “In the laundry room. I washed them so they wouldn’t irritate you.” He looked incredibly irritated at the moment. “Thanks for being so thoughtful.” He looked down again. “But a happy face?” “Yes. A happy face for Mr. Happy.” He leaned forward and clasped his hands before him. “Mr. Happy isn’t so happy right now.” He sent her a crooked smile. “But you know what would make him happy?” Mallory gestured toward his plate before he formed the words. “Time to eat.” “Mr. Happy would really like to come out and play.” Dear heavens, another grand visual, one Mallory thought best to ignore for now. Besides, she could only rely on her imagination, for now. “Your food’s getting cold.” In contrast, she was quite hot. Whit’s dark eyes took on that flaming quality, intense and captivating. “I’m not that hungry right now. At least not for any kind of food.” She sent him a frustrated look. “Two more days, Whit. And believe me, you’re going to need your strength.” So would she, a lot of strength to get through another forty-eight hours of his continued innuendo. “Oh, yeah?” “Oh, yeah. Making a baby takes a lot out of a man.” “I’m up for it.” If the table hadn’t been in the way, Mallory might have tried to confirm that fact. Not that she really needed to. “Great. Right now, let’s have some dinner.” He stared at his plate with a look of disdain. “I’m not going to like it.” “You won’t know unless you try it.” He met her gaze, his dark eyes leveled on hers. “That’s true in some instances. But I have good instincts about these things. Sometimes you just know when you’re going to enjoy something. And when you’re not.”

She wanted to ask for examples, but that damnable smoldering look on his face, the suggestion in his voice, told her exactly what he meant. “Just take one little bite. If you find it totally unpalatable, you can make a ham sandwich.” When he reached for the salt, Mallory grabbed it up and played keep-away. “No you don’t.” Now he looked confused, understandably so. “Why not?” “I’ve already seasoned it. And too much salt isn’t good for you.” Too much wasn’t conducive to having a girl, according to the list, a detail she wouldn’t reveal. He took a bite, grumbled, then took another bite while Mallory began to eat, too, not tasting much of anything. Before she knew it, he was completely through with every scrap on his plate. On the other hand, she had a hard time swallowing more than a few bites. She sent him a satisfied smile. “Guess it wasn’t so bad after all.” After pushing his plate aside, he sat back and propped his hands behind his head. “Not too bad. Now what’s for dessert?” Oh, Mallory could think of several sweet things to offer, if she had the guts to serve herself up on a plate. “There’s some ice cream in the fridge.” “Got any mint chocolate chip?” “Yes, but I only bought a pint since you don’t usually eat that.” He grinned. “I don’t usually imagine my roommate naked, either. And mint comes in handy when you plan to occupy your mouth later with something other than ice cream.” Mallory shivered as if she’d joined the ice cream in the freezer. “Just two more days, Whit,” she reminded him again. “Two more days until we consummate. Nothing says we can’t get to know each other better in the interim.” Good sense told Mallory that might be hazardous and that Whit was somehow testing her. She chafed her palms down her arms, now covered in goose bumps. “I believe we should probably hold off until the appropriate time.” “Sure thing. If you really think you can.” He came to his feet and rounded the table with a slow, determined gait. After pulling her chair at an angle away from the table, he leaned over and braced both hands on the arms. “Come to the den.” “I have to take a shower.” He brushed his hand over his groin. “Can I join you?” Mallory hopped up and nudged him aside to clear the plates. “I swear, Whit, if this is how you seduce your girlfriends, I’m surprised you’re so successful. I can hear it now. Hi, I’m Whit, let’s have dinner, and afterward I’ll introduce you to Mr. Happy.” His smile appeared again, a teasing one. “Sometimes I bring flowers first.” Jerry had always given her flowers after he’d been out all night. The only thing he’d given her during their

brief marriage aside from grief. Aside from the baby that wasn’t meant to be. “Does that automatically send them straight into your bed?” A pall crossed over his face. “I’m just kidding, Mallory. I’m not totally crass and not always on the make. And if you’ll remember, this pregnancy thing was your idea.” True, Mallory thought. Still, she suddenly felt like a means to an end, and in a way she was. So why did that bother her so much? With both plates balanced in her hands, she turned to him and tried to smile. “I know you’re kidding. You’ve always kidded me mercilessly.” “That’s because you’ve always been like one of the…” His words trailed off and so did his gaze. “One of the guys?” Admittedly, that stung her more than a little. “I realize that. But you’re not going to have a baby with one of the guys.” He looked highly frustrated. “You don’t think I realize that, Mallory? Believe me, when I imagine what’s going to happen two days from now, the guys are the last thing I think about.” He took a couple of steps toward her. “And you know something else? This is going to be one of those instances where you won’t have to try it to know if you’re going to like it. I guarantee you will, whether you want to or not.” If only she had his brand of confidence in the bedroom. “It doesn’t matter whether I like it or not. I just want you to make me pregnant.” “And I’m going to make sure you like it.” He moved forward until he was standing right before her. “One taste, and you’ll want more.” Her breath caught in her chest. “I want a baby, Whit. That’s all.” “Sure you do, Mallory. But I’m going to give you that, and more.” After taking his own plate from her, Whit left Mallory standing alone, her thoughts in a jumble as a few untouched peas rolled onto the deck. Whit Manning was proving to be a real challenge for Mallory O’Brien. One she hoped she would survive.

Three T he televised baseball game was already well into the third inning, and Whit couldn’t begin to concentrate on it. He was keyed up, combating his libido and concerned over Mallory’s low opinion of him. Yes, he’d escorted quite a few women in his life. But he hadn’t slept with all of them, contrary to popular belief. He’d tried his hand at a couple of serious relationships, but he’d come up short each time. Things would rock along fine for a while until he’d begun to feel suffocated by his need to put up a front. No one really knew the real Whitfield Manning—except Mallory. And that’s what was bugging the hell out of him. She knew him better than any woman ever had, and maybe everything she believed about him was true. He couldn’t be serious about anything aside from his job. And that’s the way he’d been since his mother’s exodus, keeping up a happy-go-lucky front to cover his pain. But that was past history and he was damn sure going to keep it in the past. He could do serious if he had to. He’d entered into this baby-making arrangement with the realization that being a father was

serious business. He vowed to learn from his own father’s mistakes and try not to repeat them. He also vowed not to push Mallory too far too fast. He could wait two days to make love with her. He could keep his hands to himself and his hormones in check. Not a problem—until she walked into the room, smelling like gardenias and looking like his own private invite to sinful indulgence. She had on a pair of pajamas—pink and silky with thin straps on the top and short-shorts on the bottom. Okay, maybe they weren’t that short, but any glimpse of her thigh was enough to send him into orbit. Was she intentionally trying to torture him straight into insanity? She offered him a bowl. “Here’s your ice cream. Enjoy.” “Thanks.” After he relieved her of the bowl, Whit expected her to retire to her bedroom, taking all that female sex appeal with her. Instead, she sat down on the floor, her back resting against the sofa and her shoulder touching his bare leg. Nodding toward the television, she asked, “Who’s winning?” Not Whit. To hell with slow. At the moment, he wanted to toss her down on the floor for a little rug rumba. “I’m not sure. I just turned it on.” A necessary lie. He couldn’t tell her about his recent thoughts and concerns. He sure as hell couldn’t tell her that the bats and balls had begun to take on the appearance of phallic symbols from the minute she’d walked into the room. And frankly, he didn’t care about scoring, at least not when it came to the baseball game of the week. Whit choked down the ice cream in record time, thankful he didn’t receive a bout of brain freeze from his quick consumption. After setting the bowl on the table, he kicked back against the couch and studied Mallory’s profile as she focused on the game. She’d tucked her hair behind her ears, exposing her lobes, which would probably taste as good as the mint chocolate chip. He visually traced the line of her shoulder, then down her back, following the path of her spine until it disappeared where her back met the sofa. Unable to resist, he laid his palm on the bend of her neck above her shoulder and gave a little squeeze. But when her frame went rigid, Whit dropped his hand into his lap, then dropped back on the sofa again. “This isn’t going to work.” “I know. Morton’s fast ball has the velocity, but he doesn’t have control.” “I’m not talking about the game, O’Brien, and you know it.” “Actually, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said without taking her eyes from the TV. “Look at me, Mallory.” She shifted and rested her left elbow on the edge of the cushion. “Okay, I’m looking at you. Now what is it?” He pointed to her than back to himself. “You and me, it’s not going to work if you tense up every time I touch you.” Her gaze drifted away. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little nervous. It’s been a long time since I’ve been intimate with anyone.”

“Me, too.” That brought her attention back to him. “Bet I’ve got you beat.” “Almost five months.” “Try three years.” Three years? Whit couldn’t imagine any healthy adult going that long without sex. “You can’t be serious.” Her expression told him she was dead serious even before she said, “I’m very serious. I went out with a guy from the office a few times and then I thought, ‘Why not?’ I answered that question in about two minutes. It was awful.” “And before that?” “Six years.” Man, this was getting almost too weird for Whit. “You’re telling me you’ve had sex only once in nine years?” “I’ve only been with two men, Mr. Awful and my ex-husband, Mr. Infidelity.” Whit prepared to ask the question he’d wanted to know for a long time but never had the nerve to ask. “How was it with old Barry?” “That’s Jerry, and it was okay.” “Only okay?” For some reason, that made Whit happy. “I think he saved his best for the coeds.” The bastard. Whit rubbed his jaw then sat forehead, hands clasped between his parted knees. “During all that time, you didn’t miss the sex?” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I didn’t have time to think about it. I had law school and then work. I put all my energy into my career. Sex was just low priority.” He frowned. “I’m probably getting too personal, but didn’t you ever take care of things yourself?” She laid a dramatic hand on her chest. “What? And risk going blind?” “If that were true, then most men would be running into walls.” “Does that include you?” “I’m going to take the fifth on that one.” He rubbed his stubbled chin. “Maybe you haven’t found the right man, someone who makes your pleasure top priority.” She gave him a wry smile. “And I suppose you’re going to say you’re that man.” “Yeah.” She rolled her eyes. “You have one unparalleled ego.” “Not really. I’ve just had some good instruction.”

“No doubt from some older woman who knew all the ins and outs of lovemaking, no pun intended.” “Actually, my dad told me everything I needed to know, before I ever touched a woman in that way.” Mallory came to her feet and plopped down on the couch. “This I’ve got to hear, Whit Manning getting the sex talk.” “Sex, drinking, it didn’t matter. My dad was always pretty open about that sort of thing.” For the first time in years, Whit thought back to a time when things hadn’t been so bad between him and his dad. “One time, when I was about fourteen, he caught me and Logan sneaking a beer from the fridge. He took the twelve-pack, sat us down at the dining room table and told us to drink them all.” Her green eyes went wide. “You didn’t!” “We did, or at least most of them. I think we both quit about halfway through the fifth beer, or maybe the fourth. Then to top it off, Dad told us to go out in the garage and make something with his skill saw.” She clasped a throw pillow to her chest as if she needed protection from a member of the Mad Mannings. “When you were drunk?” “Yeah, but he knew we wouldn’t do it. We told him he was crazy, and then he told us to remember how we felt, especially when we got behind the wheel of a car, because that would be just as dangerous as trying to attempt to use a sharp object under the influence. I’ve never forgotten it, and I’ve never driven drunk, not once.” “What happened after that?” “Logan and I blew a few chunks, then we passed out.” Mallory smiled. “A good lesson for you both. Your dad’s a smart man.” Whit had to admit his dad was very smart. Overly critical and demanding, but smart. She scooted a little closer and tossed the pillow aside. “So exactly how did he handle the sex thing? Bought you a woman?” He grinned. “Nothing like that. Right after he found out I had my first real girlfriend, he gave me some very detailed female anatomy lessons and a few tips on what women like. Explicit tips. He also stressed that no meant no. That maybe most people considered sex as a rite of passage for guys, but guys had no right to assume anything. Then he told me if I did decide to take that step, I should always wear a raincoat. Before I figured out he was talking about condoms, I got this vision of climbing in the back seat of a car, wearing nothing but a yellow slicker.” She smiled. “What a vision.” “Oh, and I also learned you didn’t stick your tongue down a woman’s throat.” She looked shocked again. “He told you that?” “Nope. I read that in one of my mom’s magazines when I was eleven. I think the article was called ‘The Fine Art of Kissing,’ or something like that.” “Did you practice with your pillow?”

“Hell no. I went for the real thing.” She sighed. “I didn’t even kiss a boy until I was fifteen. My first date to the spring cotillion.” Another reminder of a time long passed. Whit wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her to his side. At least she didn’t tense up this time. In fact, she seemed relaxed, even if he wasn’t. “I remember that night,” he said. “It was mine and Logan’s senior year of high school. We were hanging out in the living room, and you came down the stairs wearing this peach-colored dress. It was the first time I realized you had breasts.” She playfully swatted his arm. “I had breasts when I was thirteen.” “Maybe so, but I didn’t notice them until that night, probably because that dress was cut kind of low.” She laid her hand on her chest. “I’ll have you know, it was a sweetheart neckline, very modest.” “You looked like a sweetheart in it. You also looked scared. I thought you might pass out.” “Poor Bobby looked a whole lot more scared than me when he walked in the door to face all of the guys.” Whit chuckled. “Well, I think he nearly ran when Aidan…or maybe it was Kevin—” “It couldn’t have been Kevin because he was never around, and Aidan was still in college.” “Maybe it was Kieran or Devin or Logan. I really don’t remember, but I do remember what was said. ‘If you lay one hand on her boob, Bobby Hiller, I’ll cut off your hand and stuff it in your mouth.’” Mallory laughed. “Oh my gosh, I remember that now. It was Kieran. I could’ve killed him.” “I was thinking the same thing.” “That you wanted to kill Kieran?” “Actually, that I wanted to put my hand on your breast. But I didn’t think I’d get any special consideration just because I was Logan’s best friend.” She replaced her smile with a sultry look. “Do you still want to do that?” He’d give up ice cream for good in exchange for that opportunity. “Are you going to cut my hand off if I say yes?” “No. Not at all.” “Then yeah, I have to admit it has crossed my mind.” Like right now. “I wouldn’t exactly object.” Never before had Whit turned down an offer to touch a woman. But this wasn’t just any woman beside him. This was his friend. One-in-a-million Mallory. And she could eventually be the mother of his child. He needed to proceed with care, even if his body wanted to move at the speed of a light. “Tell you what…” He leaned over and snapped off the lamp on the end table, then wrapped both arms around her. “Let’s just get used to being close to each other while we’re watching the game.” She rested her head in the crook of his neck and laid her arm across his middle. “That’s a good idea.”

Whit thought so too, except for the fact that her hand was precariously low on his belly. And to make matters worse, a commercial heralding the benefits of a new pill to enhance a woman’s libido came on during the break. “I wonder if those work,” Mallory said. “Maybe I should try them out.” Whit tipped her chin up and forced her to look at him, her face cast in the blue glow of the television set. “You’re not going to need them with me.” She lowered her gaze. “What if there’s something wrong with me, Whit? It probably isn’t normal, going as long as I have without having sex.” He breezed his fingertips up and down her bare arm. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You like to be in control, with your job and your private life. You need to learn that being out of control is preferable when it comes to making love.” “Thank you, Dr. Manning.” She said it with amusement but Whit detected wariness in her voice. “You’re welcome.” He brushed a kiss across her cheek. “You can pay me later.” She snuggled closer. “I can only imagine what you expect as payment.” “I wouldn’t mind collecting with a kiss or two.” Or ten. She lifted her eyes to his. “I could probably live with that.” So could Whit, for now. He started with just touching his mouth to hers, applying only slight pressure. He pulled away then swept his lips across hers slowly, until her mouth relaxed and her lips parted. Only then did he take advantage and intensify the kiss, slowly at first, then deeper, sliding his tongue in slow increments against her tongue. They kissed for a good while, both growing more daring as the minutes ticked off. Before Whit could prepare, Mallory was leaning back and he was following her down onto the sofa. He adjusted his position until he faced her, realizing that was a whole lot safer than lying on top of her, and thankful he hadn’t fallen off the couch. Landing on the coffee table might give him a concussion. That would definitely destroy the mood. They continued to kiss as if they’d recently discovered the fun of making out, just like a couple of high school kids. Whit was definitely discovering how great it was to kiss his roomie, and how hard it would be to leave her with only this tonight, especially when she breezed her hands up and down his back, coming very close to his butt with every pass. Running on automatic, he divided her legs with his own leg, bringing them into closer contact, particularly certain parts of their anatomy that should be avoided at all costs. Whit kept a firm grip on his control, even with Mallory’s breasts pressed against his chest, her pelvis flush against his. He commanded his thigh not to move to the apex of her thighs, cautioned his hands not to rove below the dip of her spine. Mr. Happy presented another problem altogether, but he didn’t seem to have any control over him, especially when Whit considered how easy it would be to slip his hand beneath Mallory’s man-slaying shorts to touch her. To find out exactly how turned on she was at the moment, as turned on as him, he suspected. He opted to bring his palm to her belly and move up beneath the top instead of down between her legs, weighing her breast while thumbing her nipple in slow circular movements. He was vaguely aware that someone on his favored team had hit a grand slam, but his concentration

centered on the highly sexual sound that slipped out of Mallory’s mouth as he continued to fondle her. Whit pulled back and sought her eyes. “See? There’s not a damn thing wrong with you.” Her face was flushed, her eyes hazy and her lips swollen from their lengthy make-out session. “If you say so.” Her rapid breathing betrayed her skeptical tone. He lifted the shirt to watch his hand in motion as he circled one rigid nipple with a fingertip. “You’re body doesn’t lie, Mallory. You’re excited, and you know it.” She sucked in a breath and blew it out slowly. “Okay, I’m a little excited. Are you happy now?” “I won’t be entirely happy until I prove that I can make you more than a little excited.” He was about to do something he’d never done before. Yeah, he was. In just a minute. Or two. If he didn’t do it now, then he wouldn’t before he’d crossed that point of no return. “I’m going to bed.” Determined to get out of there while he still could, Whit lowered her top and worked his way off the couch. He decided to escape before he answered his own body’s demand, yanked down her satin shorts and his ridiculous boxers to bury himself inside her. If she wanted to wait another couple of days, he’d give her that. Tomorrow night, he also planned to give her another taste of what was to come, in slow increments, until by the time they finally made it to the bed, she would want him more than she’d wanted any man. Whit definitely wanted her more than he’d wanted any woman in ages, if ever. Reaping the end rewards would definitely be worth the wait. Mallory glanced at his fly then her gaze zipped to the clock on the wall. “It’s only 9:00 p.m.,” she said, her voice unsteady and hoarse. “Since when do you go to bed before the end of the game?” “Since I’ve decided that in about thirty seconds, I’m going to bypass second base and head straight for a home run.” She pulled her legs beneath her and leaned back on the sofa, thrusting her breasts forward. “Fine, go to bed then. I’m going to watch the game.” “You do that.” He leaned down and planted another kiss on her mouth, a little deeper than intended, but he wanted to get his point across. “And when you go to bed, remember how you felt tonight, and magnify that ten times. That’s how you’re going to feel in two nights.” “Promises, promises.” “You can count on it, Mallory. So be prepared.”

Mallory had not been prepared for last night, not in the least. She hadn’t been prepared for the impact on her sleep, or the fact she’d been thinking about Whit’s mouth, Whit’s body, Whit’s promise, all morning long. She also couldn’t forget the last thing that Jerry had told her when she’d confronted him on his cheating. Face it, Mallory, you’re lousy in bed. Logically, she had to remember she’d only been twenty, and he’d been the only man she’d made love with to that point. But logic couldn’t supercede her continued insecurities about her own sexuality. In her job, she was all cool confidence and control. But when it came to lovemaking, she was anything but

self-assured. Maybe Whit had been right. Maybe she hadn’t found the right man, and he could very well be that man. Yet that presented another problem. He was a master of seduction and, she suspected, an expert lover. Even though making love with him was supposed to solely lead to pregnancy, she still hated the thought that she might not meet his expectations or realize her own. Again. The door jerked open, in turn jerking Mallory out of her musings. Enter Rosalyn “Roz” Johnson, Mallory ’s fifty-something paralegal and a perpetual fixture at Cramer, Collins and Fox for over twenty years. With the silver streak cutting a wide berth in her jet-black bob, she looked like a cartoon villainess. Mallory loved her dearly, despite her penchant for spewing cutting comments from her permanently pinched mouth. Considering the way Roz slapped the file on the desk, Mallory braced for one of those verbal acid attacks now. “The proposed agreement from opposing council on the McMillan divorce,” she said. “You ’re not going to like it.” Sliding the folder closer, Mallory flipped through the document and scanned the wording. “Looks like it’s in accordance to the prenup.” Roz pointed a bony finger at one section. “Not when it comes to the kid.” Mallory’s eyes widened when she came to the terms. “He wants custody of their child?” She snapped the file closed. “That’s absurd. According to Anna McMillan, he never wanted the baby in the first place.” “Obviously he does now.” This was all Mallory needed, going to battle with a well-heeled bastard. “Does Mrs. McMillan know?” Roz picked up the phone and offered it to Mallory. “Thought it would be best coming from you.” Mallory took the receiver and placed it back onto the cradle. “She’s out of town with her son for a couple of weeks. I’ll call her when she returns. Better still, I’ll tell her face-to-face. This will devastate her, especially since her sorry husband could very well win.” Roz clucked her tongue. “I won’t tolerate that kind of talk, counselor. You’re good and you can beat him.” “You’re right. I can and I will.” She saw it as her duty to keep mother and child together, as it should be. “You know something?” Roz said. “I get the feeling that old man Fox would like it better if the firm were representing Mr. McMillan because of who he is.” “A moneyed ass?” “A man with a lot of political connections.” Mallory had to admit that would be enticing to the senior partner, who probably had designs on a judgeship. “Well, that’s too bad. We’re not, and I plan to provide Anna with the best representation possible. We have several options in regard to Mr. McMillan.” Roz smirked, the closest she ever got to a smile. “My razor-sharp paring knife is one option. I’m just itching to use it on a couple of melons.” She made a sweeping gesture in the air. “It would be over in a

jiffy, before McMillan ever knew what hit him.” Dear Roz, so shy and retiring. “I’m referring to hiring a P.I.” To Mallory, that would be the logical course of action, playing down and dirty. “I’ll get on it right now,” Roz said, her eyes alight with excitement. “Not yet. I’ll need to speak with Anna first.” The phone began to shrill and Roz snatched it up before Mallory even had a chance to register the ringing. “Ms. O’Brien’s office.” A long pause. “I am entirely too much woman for you, Logan O’Brien.” Mallory grinned when she noticed Roz’s smile trying to come out of hiding. Leave it to Logan to remove the lemon look from the paralegal’s face. “You’re a devil child, young man. Yes, she’s right here.” She handed the phone over to Mallory. “Your brother.” “I gathered that.” After Roz left the room, Mallory pulled off her hoop earring and placed the receiver to her ear. “What do you want, Logan, other than to seduce the help?” “Sorry. You know I can’t help yanking Roz’s chain a little.” “And that’s why you called?” “Nope. I called to tell you to be at Mom and Dad’s for a barbecue tomorrow night, seven sharp.” “On a Wednesday?” Worse, on the night she planned to start procreating with Whit. “What’s this all about, Logan?” “It’s a surprise, one you won’t want to miss.” Mallory feared she might know exactly the reason for the sudden gathering. “Are you bringing Helena?” The hell cat. “She’ll be there.” “Wonderful.” Logan released a breath on a rough sigh. “Could you just try to get along with her for a change?” “Color me a cynic, Logan, but I get the feeling she’s very enamored with your checkbook.” “You are a cynic, Mallory. Just because you handle divorces on a daily basis doesn’t mean every woman is a gold digger.” Mallory was hard pressed to believe that Helena Brennan didn’t fit into that category. The bombshell blonde was nothing if not superficial, from her perfectly manicured nails to her large implanted breasts. “Okay, for you I’ll be nice to her.” At least for an hour or so. “Great, and be sure to bring Whit. I haven’t seen him in a while.” “I’ll talk to him about it tonight.” If he didn’t keep her mouth occupied, which she really hoped he would. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow night. And one more thing.” “What?”

“Are you seeing anyone right now?” Oh, yes. Her roommate, although she hadn’t seen all of him yet, but soon. And that was something Mallory had no intention of revealing to Logan. “No. Why?” “You really ought to start dating, Mallory. Maybe you’ll find the right guy, someone who might change your attitude about relationships.” The right guy. That seemed as probable as Whit Manning settling down with one woman. “I’ll take your advice under consideration, but don’t get your hopes up.” “Okay, so maybe you’re not into dating. You should at least get some bed action now and then. If not, you might as well answer Aunt Ella’s wish and join a convent.” Men and their preoccupation with sex. Can’t have one without the other. “Very funny, Logan. Now I have work to do, unless you need to chastise me about my chastity some more.” “I’ll hold off on that.” “Good.” He chuckled. “Until tomorrow night. See you then.” After hanging up the phone, Mallory pondered the conversation with her brother. She had little doubt that tomorrow night he would announce his engagement to Helena. What else could it be? If he wanted to make one colossal mistake, then who was she to try to stop him? And he certainly had his nerve, telling her she was headed for permanent celibacy. That was only his opinion, one she didn’t welcome. Roz strode into the office again and this time smacked some kind of magazine down on the desk. “Page fifty-four, read it.” Mallory picked up the magazine, flipped to the designated page and found an article titled, “Uncovering the Sensual You.” Her gaze snapped to Roz, who stood before the desk, looking expectant. “Please tell me why you think this would interest me?” “Because your brother is right. You need to get laid.” Mallory narrowed her eyes. “Were you listening in on our conversation?” Roz put on her poker face, the one she wore so well. “I accidentally pushed the wrong line to call out.” Accidentally on purpose, no doubt, Mallory decided. “Did I miss something? Is this National Give Mallory Advice On Her Sex Life day?” Roz braced her palms on the edge of the desk and leaned into them. “That article says, and it’s true, that your professional persona is at war with your sexual self, and guess which one is winning?” Mallory tossed the magazine aside. “And I suppose you’re going to tell me you’ve been married thirty-something years because you actually read this stuff.” “No, some of us are just born to love, which is why I’m so lovable.” Most people would finish off that kind of remark with a smile, but not Roz. “Then you’re saying I’m not wired right?”

“I’m saying you’ve got it in you, but you just won’t let it come out. Let your hair down, and whatever else you need to let down, to get over it.” She pointed at the magazine. “It’s a simple list, a few things to remember to get you in the mood. Stoke the fire. Hype up the hormones. Then all you have to do is find a good man.” Mallory had already found that man in Whit. But a magazine how-to? Well, Whit had learned all about kissing from the same kind of article. And after all, she’d found her baby-making resource from the Internet. “Fine. If it will make you happy, I’ll look it over. But I can almost guarantee I won’t be interested.” Roz lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It’s worth a shot. Otherwise, I hope you look good in a habit.” With that, the meddling paralegal was out the door, leaving Mallory once more with her thoughts. She did not need a list to relax enough to make love so she could make a baby. She did not have to be totally bowled over during the process. She did not need anything but Whit Manning’s biological contribution. However, she had a feeling he could have something to say about that, considering what he’ d said to her last night. And that lead Mallory to wonder exactly what he might have in store for her this evening.

Four “W hit Manning, what are you doing?” With a potato chip poised to enter his mouth, Whit glanced from the TV to see Mallory coming into the living room, a look of disdain on her face. “Having a snack.” “I can see that.” She snatched the bag of chips from his grasp. “This isn’t nutritious.” He dropped his feet from the coffee table. “I need something to eat since it’s almost nine. I’m starving.” As much for her attention as he was for food. She waved the bag at him. “Do you know how much sodium these contain?” He rubbed his chin. “Oh, so that’s it.” “That’s what?” “The old salt thing. Eating more salt means conditions are better for conceiving a boy, according to the infamous list.” She narrowed her eyes. “How do you know that?” He reached over to the end table and waved the piece of paper, much the same as she’d done with the chips. “I read all about it.” She stared at the page, then turned her green eyes on him in a not-so-nice look. “How did you get hold of that? I have the copy with me.” “You also have the site bookmarked on your computer.” She looked totally appalled and sexy as hell in that tailored gray suit with the skirt that came just above her knees. “You’ve been exploring my favorite places?” He grinned. “Not all of them. At least not yet.”

Shoving her hand into the bag, she withdrew several chips and popped them into her mouth. “I cannot believe you hacked into my computer.” “I didn’t hack into it. I turned it on.” And he hoped to do the same to her and soon. “If you don’t want anyone digging around in your Internet account, then you shouldn’t store your password.” “You have a lot of nerve.” He had a huge urge to kiss the anger away from her face. “Hey, if I’m going to do this, I need some guidelines. And since this is my baby, too, I should have an opportunity to determine its gender through whatever means possible.” He perused the points under the Having a Boy section. “I haven’t gotten to all the favorable positions for conceiving a boy yet, but I’ll make sure that’s covered before tomorrow night. But I really like the part about eating beef instead of fish.” “Right now you’re in danger of eating that piece of paper.” Tossing the page back on the end table, he leveled his gaze on her. “I’d rather have some Chinese takeout. Do you want your usual?” “No.” Catching Whit totally off guard, she unzipped the front closure of her suit’s jacket to below her breasts, revealing a glimpse of a black bra. “I grabbed a chicken sandwich on the way.” Whit really wanted to grab her. Badly. “I don’t remember that being on the list.” He barely remembered his name. “It’s not, but I wasn’t in the mood to worry about it.” His gaze traveled to the gaping jacket. “Obviously you’re in the mood for something else a little more interesting.” “Such as?” Whit realized she was totally oblivious to what she’d done because of her current state of mind. Something was bothering her, and he intended to find out what. Patting the sofa, he told her, “Sit down.” “I want to take a shower first.” Can I join you? threatened to spill out of his mouth and only by sheer will did he stop it. “You can do that in a minute.” She dropped down on the couch and Whit was careful to keep his distance. He glanced at the yawning jacket, then realized he was about to do something he wouldn’t normally do. Reaching over, he slowly pulled the zipper back into place while Mallory followed the movement of his hand. Color rose to her cheeks and she failed to look at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—” “It’s okay. Now tell me what’s going on.” She tipped her head back against the cushions and stared at the ceiling. “It seems Mom and Dad are having a little get-together at the house tomorrow night.” “On a Wednesday?” he said, when he was really thinking, On the night we’re supposed to begin making a baby?

“I know. I said the same thing to Logan when he called. But he insists it’s important.” She finally looked at him. “You’re invited, too.” Normally that would be more than okay. Whit liked being around the O’Briens, a boisterous, close-knit family that was everything his own family had never been. But he’d had big plans for tomorrow night. “Logan didn’t hint at what this is all about?” Mallory released a long sigh. “No, but I’m thinking it has something to do with his current girlfriend.” Helena Brennan, the reason Whit hadn’t seen Logan in quite a while. “You don’t think they’re—” “Planning to get married?” Mallory let go a terse laugh. “I have a hard time believing it, but he’s totally enamored of her. Although I have no idea why.” Whit now knew what had Mallory so worked up—typical sisterly protectiveness. “How would you feel if they did become engaged?” She shrugged. “If he wants to tie himself down to a big-breasted socialite whose day consists of tennis at the country club and hours at the spa, then who am I to stop him?” “You really don’t like her, do you?” “Do you?” Whit hadn’t formulated much of an opinion of Helena beyond the fact she had a killer body, but he’d seen little sign of a brain. He didn’t think it was wise to tell Mallory that. “I don’t know her all that well, so I really couldn’t say.” “Come on, Whit. You know her kind. She’s looking to snag a rich husband, and Logan definitely fits that profile.” Whit definitely knew her kind. He’d been involved with a couple himself. “Logan’s not stupid, Mallory. Maybe he’s really in love this time.” “Woo-hoo. Let’s hear it for love.” Mallory rose to her feet and faced him again. “I’m tired, Whit. Think I ’ll take my shower now and go to bed.” So much for Whit’s plans to try a little more persuasion in order to enable Mallory to relax before the “big night.” Or maybe not. “I’ll come tuck you in after you’re done.” “You really don’t have to do that.” “I know, but I want to.” He expected her to put up a little more of a protest. Instead, she said, “Give me about twenty minutes. You can tell me a bedtime story.” Whit wasn’t interested in telling her any kind of stories, but he sure wouldn’t object to a little bedtime adventure. He warned himself one more time to take it slowly. Mallory was definitely keyed up tonight and she probably wouldn’t welcome his attentions beyond some companionship. Then again, he did know a few ways to help her relax.

What a fool she was to let Whit anywhere near her bed. When Mallory came out of the bathroom,

dressed in a moderately modest thigh-length green nightshirt, she found him sitting on the edge of the mattress. His dark hair was damp from his own shower, the white ribbed tank he wore drawn tight over his primo physique, his legs bared due to the pair of silk boxers that would be deemed a respectable length, but still caused quite an impact on her pulse. Buying those for him, well, just another foolish mistake she’d made in a long line of many of late. However, she refused to do anything else that would be deemed imprudent, such as letting him stay in her bed all night. Tomorrow night was another thing altogether. As soon as she finished with the family socializing, she would welcome him into her bed to begin the procreation process. That thought sent a tiny little shiver through her body on the heels of a nervousness that didn’t seem to want to go away. Stopping at the dresser, Mallory picked up a brush and ran it through her hair, glancing now and then at Whit in the mirror’s reflection. He’d stretched out on the bed, hands laced behind his neck, feet crossed at the ankles. He didn’t speak, but he did continue to survey her from shoulders to feet. And her traitorous eyes kept roaming to the boxer’s fly. Whit Manning’s male package, all wrapped up in navy silk. Wouldn’t it be fun to open it and see what surprises were in store? The brush flipped out of Mallory’s hand and landed on the dresser with a noisy thump, knocking over a perfume bottle and sending picture frames down like dominoes. She was mildly aware of Whit’s quiet laughter as she fumbled to right the mess. “That should do for now,” she said as she turned, trying to affect nonchalance and failing miserably. “You smell good,” he told her when she approached the bed, his smile all sensual sunshine, radiating scorching heat. “Thanks. I feel better.” Fortunately for Mallory, Whit stood and tossed back the sheets, preventing her from having to scale him to claim her own spot and quite possibly brush her body over all that maleness. Now why did climbing over him not seem so horrible? “Get in,” he said, and after she complied, he told her “Scoot over.” She stared at him a long moment. “Whit, I really don’t think—” “Don’t look so worried, Mallory. I’m not going to jump you. I just thought we’d talk a little longer. Then maybe you can tell me what else is bothering you.” She inched over, marveling at the fact that he could read her so well. He settled in beside her, his back propped against the headboard, one arm casually draped over the top of her pillow, his hand resting on his abdomen. Mallory scooted up on the bed and rolled to her side to face him. “It was a tough day at work. I received some bad news about a divorce case I’m handling.” He looked sincerely interested. “What kind of news?” “I’m representing the wife, and her soon-to-be-ex has decided to go after what means the most to her.” “Her stock portfolio?” “Their child. He wants sole custody.” Whit centered his gaze on some focal point across the room. “Do you think he’ll win?”

She shoved her arm beneath the pillow. “He could. He has the money and means and more than a few connections. The crazy thing is, he never wanted the baby in the first place. I think he’s punishing her for divorcing him.” “So she’s the one who filed?” “Yes, and with good reason. He’s verbally abusive and controlling. She spent ten years under his thumb and one day decided she couldn’t live like that anymore.” “Sounds like she married the wrong guy.” “Yes, she did. I guess love really is blind.” Boy, how well she knew that truth. “But I’m going to fight for her. Losing a child has to be the worst thing a woman could possibly endure.” She knew that intimately, too. “I’ll have to pull out all the stops, and it’s probably going to get really ugly before it’s over.” Whit turned a soft smile on her. “She’s lucky to have you on her side.” And Mallory felt very fortunate to have Whit at her side, acting as a sounding board even though he looked like a ticket to temptation. When a yawn slipped out, she covered her hand with her mouth. “You’re really tired,” he said, definite disappointment in his tone. “A little. But I think it’s more emotional than physical. Just part of the job, dealing with divorce wars.” “I don’t know how you do it.” “It’s only part of what I do. I also handle adoptions, which means I sometimes get to help build a family instead of tear one apart.” He leaned over and whisked a kiss across her forehead. “One of these days, I’m going to build homes for families, if I can ever tear myself away from my father.” “Hopefully that will happen soon,” she said. “Yeah. Maybe by this time next year, I’ll be my own boss.” “And if we’re lucky, you’ll also be a father.” “If we ever get around to getting to it.” She reached up and touched his unshaven jaw. “We don’t have to stay all that long tomorrow night at Mom and Dad’s. We can have a bite to eat then leave.” “You know Lucy isn’t going to let her daughter eat and run.” Mallory smiled. “I’ll just tell her I want to get to bed early.” “Are you sure you don’t want to get in some practice tonight? Sort of like the preliminaries.” He sounded amused, but Whit’s dark eyes said something altogether different. A surge of heat shot through Mallory’s body, but she gave in to the need to resist and the fear she might just prove Jerry right. She wagged a finger at him. “Now, now. You can wait another twenty-four hours.” He aimed his charmer’s grin on her. “Can I at least have a good-night kiss?” She clasped his chin, turned his head to one side and popped a kiss on his cheek. “Now good night.”

He cupped her jaw in his palm, stroking his thumb back and forth over her cheek. “We can do better than that.” Whit definitely could do better, and he did, melding his lips to her in a gentle yet provocative mating of their mouths. Totally boneless, Mallory sank farther into the pillow and Whit joined her, his hand roving over the dip in her waist, then up over the curve of her hip as he sent his tongue on a gentle glide against hers. He didn’t stop the kiss, nor did he stop exploring her body, sliding his palm down her thigh before traveling back up the path he’d taken, only this time he took the nightshirt with him. He journeyed to her hip and nudged her forward until their bodies were as close as their lips. Mallory knew immediately he was aroused, and admittedly, so was she. Very aroused, especially when he moved his hand between them and rubbed his knuckles back and forth below her navel. How easy it would be just to let go and let him take her wherever he might. How easy just to give in to the moment, his touch, his expertise, and maybe this time… But when he slid his fingertips beneath the band on her panties and traveled lower and lower, the same old uncertainty came back to visit. She tugged his hand away and sat up, clutching her hair in both hands. “Mallory?” She couldn’t bring herself to look back at Whit. “What?” “What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” He rested his hand on her shoulder. “Did your ex do something to you?” “What do you mean?” He moved to the end of the bed and pulled her hands away from her head, forcing her to look at him. “I mean during sex. If he hurt you physically in any way, I’ll hunt him down.” She shook her head. “No, he didn’t hurt me like that.” Emotionally, yes. Physically, no. “Then why are you so resistant to letting me touch you?” She didn’t have the courage to tell him, not yet. “I’m just nervous about this whole thing. We’ve gone from you slapping my butt and telling me to have naughty dreams at bedtime to necking and petting. It’s just going to take a little time to get used to the change.” “Okay, I understand that. But if you want to see this through, you’ve got to learn to trust me. I’m not going to hurt you. I only want to make you feel good.” She lowered her eyes. “That’s not necessary.” He tipped her chin up. “It is for me.” His smile returned. “Besides, according to the list, if you want a girl, then you have to climax first.” Mallory was beginning to think that list could be her downfall, if Whit wasn’t. “That’s true. But we’ll worry about that tomorrow night.” And worry she would. Whit turned her hands over and kissed each palm. “I’m not worried at all. If you’ll just let loose a little, you’re going to enjoy it.”

Mallory had no doubt he would try. “We’re both tired, so I think we should call it a night.” After planting a soft kiss on her lips, Whit stood. “Sweet naughty dreams. I’ll definitely be having a few about you.” With that, he turned to leave, but before he reached the door, Mallory made the snap decision that honesty might be the best policy. Maybe then he would understand. “He said I was lousy in bed.” With his hand poised on the doorknob, Whit slowly pivoted to face her. “Who said that?” Feeling suddenly very vulnerable, she hugged the pillow to her chest. “Jerry said it. When I asked for the divorce, he told me he cheated because I wasn’t a good lover.” Whit strode back to the bed, sat, and pulled the pillow from her clutches to take her hands. “Mallory, when a man says that kind of thing, it’s because he’s the failure in bed, not you. You were young and my guess is, not all that knowledgeable.” “That’s an understatement. My parents weren’t like your dad. My mom’s version of the ‘sex talk’ entailed a lecture on never letting a boy put his hands on anything covered in two layers of clothing.” She attempted a smile that fell short. “I actually worried about holding hands with a boy in the winter if I was wearing gloves.” “I’m going to assume you know better now.” “Yes, I’ve got the knowledge, but I just haven’t had the experience. And knowing what you know now, you might want to reconsider expecting more from this conception than making a baby.” A flash of anger crossed his expression. “Let me tell you something, O’Brien. I have never made love to a woman without considering her needs, and I don’t intend to do that with you. Especially not with you. And if you expect less from me, maybe you ought to reconsider this whole thing, because I refuse to give you less.” “What you may try to give me, and what you can give me, are two different things.” He frowned. “I’m not following you.” What Mallory had to tell him would qualify as the most painful secret she had ever revealed to anyone with the exception of the baby she had lost. But in this instance, Whit deserved the truth. She took in a deep draw of air and released it slowly. “I’ve never really had an orgasm.” “During sex?” “During, before, after. Ever. I’m not sure I can.” He studied her a long moment, his eyes never wavering, even when he said, “I’m sure you can.” Of course, this was Whit, a man with all the confidence in the world when it came to lovemaking. “Well, that’s really nice, but there is a distinct possibility you could be wrong.” “Are there any medical reasons why it’s not possible?” She threaded her bottom lip between her teeth, twice. “Not that I’m aware of. I did see a therapist last year about it. She tried to help.”

“What did she suggest you do?” “Buy a battery-operated friend and experiment. As we all know, the safest sex is when you’re the only one in the room.” “But you didn’t do it, did you?” “I didn’t have time, unless I wanted to pack my friend and take him to the office. When I got home, I was tired and the last thing I wanted to do was concentrate on anything but sleep.” He pointed at her. “That’s your problem, Mallory.” “What? That I didn’t care to brown-bag a device instead of a sandwich?” “That you think you have to concentrate. In fact, you think too much.” He rested both hands on her thighs. “Tell me something, did Larry take any time with you? You know, in terms of foreplay?” “That’s Jerry, and other than having a couple of beers then saying, ‘Mallory, get naked and get in bed,’ no.” “Then he didn’t even try to stimulate you?” “No.” “Never used his hands?” “No.” “Or his mouth?” “Definitely not.” “Then that proves it.” “Proves what?” “You haven’t been with the right man.” “Oh, so we’re back to that again?” He touched her face so tenderly, looked so darned understanding, that Mallory had the urge to cry, something else she hadn’t done in a long time. “Tomorrow night, I want you to promise me something.” “That depends on what it is.” “I don’t want you to think about anything. Not about the baby. Not about the past. I just want you to try to relax and let nature take the lead, not your brain.” Oh, how she wanted to do that. “I’ll try.” “Good.” He kissed her cheek. “Now I want you to get a good night’s rest, because you’re going to need it.” She let go a cheerless laugh. “That’s for sure. If you intend what I think you intend, that could take you all night long, and well into next week.”

“Don’t bet on it.” He leaned over and rested his lips against her ear. “When I touched you tonight, you were hot. If you’d given me another minute, you wouldn’t have known what hit you. And that’s exactly what’s going to happen tomorrow night.” Whit left the room then, taking all his macho confidence with him, along with a good deal of Mallory’s mind. She couldn’t deny any of what he’d said. She had been totally turned on by his touch, and even now she experienced another frisson of heat blended with excitement when she rewound his words in her head. She truly wouldn’t put it past him to make good on his promise, and she really hoped he did. However, just in case, she decided to study up. Crossing the room to the corner desk that housed her computer, she opened her briefcase and took out Roz’s magazine, something she’d sworn not to do. But hey, it certainly couldn’t hurt. If she had to live by a few lists to get what she wanted, then so be it.

During adulthood, Whit Manning had never felt inadequate as a man when it came to women. But last night, he’d experienced a definite deficiency in terms of confidence when it came to Mallory. He worried he might fail her, sexually and emotionally. She’d obviously been through the wringer in her past relationship, and, more than anything, he wanted to help her beyond that. In order for that to happen, she would have to let down her guard, open up to him, allow him to show her that she wasn’t a lost cause in the bedroom. That she could experience real pleasure. He wanted her to trust him that much. Right now he was strung as tightly as a guy wire; even his two-mile morning run hadn’t alleviated the tension. Determined to relax before starting his day, Whit left the chaos of downtown and drove to a nice subdivision on the northwest side of Houston. A place with streets divided by neatly manicured medians, a lot of well-planned parks, cul-de-sacs lined with oaks and pines and houses sitting on acre lots. At the end of one of those circular streets, he pulled the company truck up to the curb and studied the two-story house in progress. His house in progress, four bedrooms, four bathrooms and almost four thousand square feet. The house no one knew about, not even his dad. Especially not his dad. The basic structure was nearing completion, aside from the brickwork, which was scheduled to begin today. After that, it would be completely dried in, and Whit planned to spend more time here, overseeing the electricians and plumbers, making certain they adhered to his strict specs. And soon he’d have to get serious about hiring an interior designer to have the place ready for the fall showcase of homes and, hopefully, the beginning of a career as a renowned custom home builder who provided quality, efficient residences for families. He was good at architectural detail, but he didn’t have a great eye for color or putting things together. Mallory was good at it. She’d done some nice things with his place, convincing him to buy a couple of tables, chairs and shelves along with a few accessories that had turned the apartment from stark to comfortable. The only thing that hadn’t impressed him was that freakin’ red shag rug in the middle of the den floor. As far as he was concerned, it looked like a deceased llama. Mallory loved it, and he hadn’t had the heart to tell her he’d prefer it in the downstairs Dumpster. But Mallory had her own career, so he doubted she’d be willing to play interior decorator to his dream. He just hoped she would be willing to play in his bed tonight, or her bed, it really didn’t matter. If she didn’t suddenly change her mind, and he really hoped she didn’t. Not only because he wanted to make love to her, but because he was getting used to the whole baby idea and actually beginning to like the thought of having his own kid. Daughter or son, it really didn’t matter at all despite what he’d said to

Mallory about wanting a son. Whatever its gender, he planned to be the best father he could be. But first, he had to make certain the soon-to-be mom enjoyed the conception. Pulling off his sunglasses, he tossed them onto the dash and rubbed both palms down his face. But he couldn’t make the images of making love with Mallory disappear, which prevented him from getting out of the truck to look the place over. If one of the neighbors caught him wandering around in his current state of arousal, he’d surely be arrested unless he darted from tree to tree to prevent detection. He pulled away from the curb to head into the office, thankful he didn’t have any pending meetings since it looked as though he would need to spend most of the day trying to salvage his dignity behind a drafting table. On the return drive, he mulled over exactly how he planned to handle the situation tonight, and he determined what Mallory needed most was a sense of control. He had no problem allowing her that control—to a point. He wouldn’t make her feel pressured or inadequate in any way. He vowed to be patient, gentle and thorough. Before the evening ended, she would know exactly how it felt to be totally lost to her own body’s demands, and he’d use everything in his repertoire to make that happen. Whatever it took.

Five W hile preparing for the evening with her family—and eventually the night alone with Whit—Mallory had successfully made a total mess of her makeup. She’d managed to smudge mascara beneath her eyes, twice, forgotten to apply powder to her chin and had drawn a nice line of Quirky Coral above instead of on her lip. She now had a list detailing how to have a baby and a list on how to uncover the vamp supposedly residing within her. Unfortunately, she had no tips on how to apply makeup when her skin threatened to crawl off her body. If she couldn’t successfully complete something so routine as applying makeup, how was she ever going to go forward with her plans to seduce Whit right out of his wits? Easy. As she did in her daily work, she would view the whole course of action as a significant step to an important goal—having a baby. Being relaxed during lovemaking created conditions conducive for conception. If she followed the magazine article’s instructions on seduction, then she could enjoy success by allowing herself to loosen up. If she followed the Internet list on conception, then she could do that by being on top and somewhat in control. That didn’t seem quite so simple when she walked out her bedroom door and nearly ran into the prospective father-to-be dressed in a navy polo and jeans, his thick dark hair combed into neat layers that she would really like to ruffle. She would also like to remove that shirt and those slacks and forget about family obligations in order to get on with the plans. The suspense was starting to kill her. He took a long lingering glance down her body. “Is that outfit new?” She glanced at the sheer button-down, sleeveless black blouse and semi-mini denim skirt that she’d purchased on her lunch break in accordance with Tip Number Two: Wear something sexy that you wouldn’t normally wear. “Yeah. I thought I’d try something different from my usual corporate attire.” She met his gaze. “I don’t look like some trashy teen-idol wannabe, do I?” She saw definite appreciation in his dark eyes. “You look great. Sexy as hell. Are you sure we have to go to this little soiree?” “Yes, I’m sure.” She needed more time to develop her master plan, and to restore her resolve. He let loose a rough sigh. “Okay, if we really have to. Are you ready to roll?” She was getting there. “Sure. My car or yours?”

“My truck went into the shop this afternoon for service so I’m driving the company sedan.” “Your daddy’s favorite Caddie?” “Yeah. Normally I prefer something more compact, but there are advantages to having something bigger.” Mallory’s gaze meandered to where Whit had hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “Bigger can be good.” Mortified, she forced her eyes to his face. “I meant the car is bigger than mine or yours. More comfortable. Has all the little amenities, like the six CD changer, the navigation system, the split bench seat.” She sounded like a rambling car salesman. He grinned. “It also has a large backseat, in case we end up staying out longer than planned.” Assaulted by another annoying fit of nerves, Mallory snatched up her purse from the sofa table and nearly spilled its contents. Tip Number Six: Be the sexual instigator. Your guy will love you for it. She inhaled deeply and reminded herself that tonight, she was the seductress, the feisty femme fatale. Facing Whit again, she flipped her hair back from one shoulder before running a fingertip down his chest to his belly. “We won’t be later than 9:00 p.m., tops. And if by some chance we are detained, we could always make good use of my old bedroom at the house. I’ve always wanted to sneak a guy in there.” Whit caught her hand and brought her palm to his lips for a warm kiss. “Oh, yeah. I’m sure Dermot and Lucy would just love that, us copulating under their roof.” She smiled. “What Dermot and Lucy don’t know won’t hurt them.” If they did find out that Mallory planned to have a baby without the benefit of marriage, that would hurt them greatly. They wouldn’t have to know unless she did get pregnant. Now if she could just maintain the front that she and Whit were only friends, not partners in conception, everything would work out fine. Whit walked to the door and opened it for her. “Let’s go, O’Brien,” he said, then patted her bottom when she moved into the hallway. All the way down the elevator, he watched her with his dark eyes, drove her insane with his scent, made her perspire with his smile. She really did have to get a grip, otherwise she wouldn’t be able to make it through the evening—and the night. After they settled into the sedan, Mallory realized that Whit was already starting the preliminaries when he flipped up the center armrest dividing the split bench seat. He kept his hand on her leg while they drove, tracing a random path on the inside of her bare knee with his thumb. She thought it might be best to cross her legs but couldn’t find the will to do so. As long as he didn’t move his palm any higher, she would just sit back and enjoy it, if she didn’t unexpectedly combust and char the expensive ecru-colored leather. A few blocks from the old home place situated in the center of west Houston and middle class suburbia, Whit stopped at a red light at a cross street, leaned over and kissed Mallory briefly. “What are you wearing underneath that skirt?” She gave him her most seductive smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” “I plan to know before the night’s over, so you might as well tell me now.” “A black lace thong.”

He tipped his head back against the headrest. “You should not have told me that.” “Hey, you asked.” “True.” A horn honked when Whit failed to move immediately through the green light. He gunned the car forward and turned onto her parents’ street, taking the corner just a little too fast in Mallory’s opinion. “Now I’m going to be imagining that thong all night long,” he said. “Guess I’ll have to find a spot behind a hedge in the backyard to hide behind.” “I have a thought.” A very naughty thought. Not a chance Mallory could do it. Tip Number Four: Do not resist being daring. Yes, she could. No, she couldn’t. Yes she could. I am not a lousy lover. I am a lean, mean seducting machine. Now or never. She opted for now. Reaching beneath the skirt, she shimmied the skimpy panties down her legs, worked them over her shoes and held them up by one finger for his inspection. “Now you don’t have to imagine them.” After glancing her way, Whit swerved to avoid a street-side mailbox before he pulled behind Logan’s SUV positioned at the curb in front of the house. He put the car in Park, stared out the windshield for a moment and then said, “Mallory O’Brien, you’re about to hear me say something I’ve never said to any woman. Put your panties back on and exit the car immediately.” Mallory laughed from the exhilarating feelings, from the sudden surge of purely sexual sensation. “Are you sure?” “No, but you need to do it anyway.” “Okay. If I must.” With agonizing slowness, she worked the thong back up her hips, noting Whit’s perusal in her peripheral vision. But before she could open the door, he leaned over and kissed her soundly and seductively. “Just so you know, the next time those panties come off, I’m going to be the one taking them off.” She grinned. “Promise?” “You bet. As soon as we get this little party over, the real party begins.”

“Whitty, it is so good to see you!” If anyone aside from Lucine Kabakian O’Brien called him Whitty, he would offer a cutting comment to a woman, and a right cut to a man. But Mallory’s four foot eleven inch, half-Armenian dynamo of a matriarch could call him just about anything and get away with it. Whit hugged her hard and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Good to see you, too, Lucy. You’re looking better than ever. When are you going to leave Dermot for me?” Lucy smoothed one hand over her khaki skirt and blushed. “Dear boy, you know my husband cannot survive without me.” She turned her attention to her daughter, her near-black eyes wide with surprise. “Mallory, you can see right through that blouse.” She glanced back at Whit. “Can’t you see her

brassiere, Whitty?” Oh, yeah. He’d also seen her panties only a few minutes before. Don’t even go there Manning. “Ah, come on, Lucy. That’s the style. Besides, I didn’t really notice. I mean, Mallory’s just Mallory, kind of like a kid sister.” Good thing electrical storms hadn’t been forecasted for the evening, otherwise Whit would be struck down in his prime. Mallory stepped forward, her hands fisted at her sides. “My bra isn’t that obvious, Mom. Besides, it’s black like the blouse.” Like the panties, Whit thought before pushing that dangerous thought away again. Still perusing Mallory’s outfit, Lucy crossed one arm over her middle and laid a palm on her jaw. “Aren’t you a little old to be wearing that? You’re thirty now, Mallory, not a teenager.” Mallory rolled her eyes. “Thanks for reminding me, Mother.” “Well I’ll be, the missing cub has come home!” boomed a voice from behind Whit, thankfully interrupting the mother/ daughter moment. He turned toward the owner of the booming voice to find Mallory’s father heading toward the foyer. In contrast with his wife, Dermot O’Brien was a hulk of a man, an inch taller than Whit with a ruddy complexion, strawberry-blond hair and a girth that would rival a competitive beer drinker’s belly. After Dermot gave Mallory a boisterous hug, Whit accepted the man’s outstretched hand and a solid slap on the back that almost knocked the wind out of him. “How’s retirement treating you, Dermot?” he asked as soon as his lungs expanded again. Dermot released his crushing grip on Whit’s fingers and grinned at Lucy. “Not too bad a’tall. Just ask me wife.” “Speak for yourself, old man,” Lucy muttered, yet sent him a smile reserved for her husband of fifty years. Dermot wrapped his arm around Lucy’s waist and gave her a squeeze. “Now woman, you know you enjoy me being around on those rainy afternoons.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “She does like the rain, I’ll be tellin’ ya.” “Oh, please, Daddy,” Mallory said. “We don’t want to hear about you and Mother fooling around.” Whit frankly didn’t want to hear or think about anyone fooling around at the moment. Dermot turned toward Mallory, who appeared to be hugging the wall while she was hugging her arms to her breasts. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, daughter. Just cause your da is old doesn’t mean he has to give up all the things that make life worth…” He frowned. “That’s a new outfit, darlin’.” “Yes, Daddy, it is.” “Where’s the rest of it?” Mallory pushed off the wall. “I’m thinking I could use a glass of wine. See you all later.” “Have a couple of glasses,” Whit called out after her as she headed toward the kitchen. “I’m personally going to have a burger. A beef burger.” The acid look she sent him over one shoulder told Whit exactly where she would like him to put that

burger. “Speakin’ of burgers.” Dermot nodded toward the back exit. “I’ll be checkin’ on Logan now. He insisted on tendin’ the barbecue even though he knows I’m the expert. And he’d better hurry. I’m so hungry, I could eat a donkey’s arse through a blackthorn bush.” Lucy braced both hands on her hips. “The next time you say that, I’m going to bind and gag you.” He winked at his wife. “Now that’s something we haven’t tried yet, love.” Lucy pointed toward the backyard. “Go. Now.” “Tell Logan I’ll be out in a minute,” Whit called after Dermot, who laughed all the way out the patio doors. And Whit had a mind to tell Logan that he didn’t appreciate being called away from his plans with sister. But if he did that, he was in danger of ending up seated on a pile of hot coals. Lucy slipped one frail hand in the crook of Whit’s arm. “Tell me, Whitty. Is Mallory trying to make you into a vegetarian?” She was trying to make him into the father of a baby girl. “You know how Mallory is. Always on some diet kick. Right now it’s fish and vegetables.” “Well, you don’t listen to her. A strapping man like yourself needs protein.” “I’ll be sure to tell her that.” Like she’d really listen. “Now come with me,” Lucy said. “The boys will be glad to see you.” When they stepped inside the living room, Whit took a quick trip back in time. Nothing had changed at all, not the marred hardwood floors that had seen their share of forbidden indoor skateboarding, not the beige and green plaid sofa, not the matching drapes or the yellowed lamps. Even the same aging console TV still sat at an angle in the corner, tuned into some kind of sports talk show. Whit scanned the room, surprised to see Kevin conversing in the corner with Helena, and not because he was visiting with Logan’s girl; that was classic Kevin. He was surprised that Kevin was there at all because he didn’t come around all that often. Kevin’s fiancée, Corinna, sat on the sofa talking with Aidan, the second oldest O’Brien brother and Corri’s boss. She seemed oblivious to her soon-to-be husband’s flirtations, or maybe she’d passed the caring phase since Kevin’s suspect behavior was a common occurrence. Corri was a gorgeous blonde, smart and an overall nice woman who deserved much better, proving Mallory’s theory that love was truly blind—and in this case, deaf. Two of the brothers seemed to be missing, beginning with Kieran, Kevin’s twin. Most people couldn’t tell the difference between the two, but Whit had been around the family long enough to pick up on those differences—Kevin was right-handed, Kieran left-handed. Kevin wasn’t as muscular as Kieran—not even close—which stood to reason since Kieran owned a chain of top-notch health clubs. Kevin didn’t own much of anything. Of all the O’Brien men, Kevin would be considered the proverbial black sheep, or as Whit liked to think of him, the evil twin. “Is Kieran around?” Whit asked Lucy. She waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, you know Kieran, always working. He’s giving some kind of private training lessons.” No doubt to some woman, Whit decided. “I don’t see Devin, either.” The oldest brother, who was

considered the most successful as a fourth-year medical resident, even though most of the O’Brien kids were thriving in their chosen fields. Lucy smiled a proud grandmother’s smile. “He’s home with Stacy, helping out with my new grandson. Little Sean has a dreadful case of colic. He fusses this time of night, just like Mallory did until she was three months old.” She clucked her tongue and patted her braided bun. “From 6:00 to 9:00 p.m. every evening, she would scream like a banshee.” Whit wondered what else might make Mallory scream, something he shouldn’t even consider unless he did intend to find that hedge. He pointed toward the sliding glass doors across the room, his much-needed escape. “Think I’ll go see what Logan’s up to in the backyard.” Lucy rose on tiptoes, kissed his cheek then squeezed his hand. “Whitty, we’re so grateful that you’ve been taking such good care of our girl.” If the brothers O’Brien knew what Whit had planned for their sister tonight, he doubted they would be so quick to thank him. More like punch him out. “I’ll see you in a while, Miss Lucy.” He delivered the requisite greetings to the guys, with the exception of Kevin, who acted as if he couldn’t care less Whit had arrived. He seemed much more interested in keeping Helena occupied. And after the usual catch-up conversations, Whit opened the patio door and stepped into the warm Texas dusk, the last remnants of a spectacular sunset disappearing on the horizon. The smells of barbecue briquettes and freshly trimmed grass, the spark of a first evening firefly, blanketed Whit in more memories. Good memories of lazy summer days spent at his second home, touch football in the huge backyard, lots of welcome camaraderie in the company of a near-perfect family. What the O’Briens lacked monetarily, they made up for with love. Whit approached the group of men standing near the black iron barbecue pit, the sounds of sizzling burgers and conversation interrupting the serenity of the evening. He recognized Dermot and Logan, but the man with the moderate Einstein hair, black glasses and Groucho Marx stance didn’t look at all familiar. His hands flailed about as he spoke in a voice that was equal to Dermot’s. “I’m telling you, it was the biggest oozing boil I’ve ever seen. Right there on his tush. Took me two hours to excise it…” Whit’s appetite all but disappeared and so did his desire to join the group. But he didn’t have time to back away before Logan said, “Well, I’ll be damned. It’s about time you showed up, Manning. Get the hell over here.” When Whit approached, Logan gestured toward the stranger. “Whit, this is the family doc, Stanley Grote. Doc, this is Whit Manning, a good friend of the family’s.” The doctor pushed his glasses up on his bulbous nose. “Nice to meet you, young man. Have you ever seen a golf ball-size cyst on a man’s arse?” “Can’t say that I have.” Nor did he want to. “Well—” “Doc, let’s go into the house to tell that story to Lucy,” Dermot interceded. “She’ll want to hear all about it, I’m sure.” Whit doubted that, but he was relieved he didn’t have to endure all the dirty details. When the doctor and Dermot had walked away, he turned to Logan, who wore a ridiculous red apron, spatula in hand. “So how’s the global transportation business treating you these days?”

“Thriving. I just picked up three more corporations in Europe and ten more cities in the States. I’ve started adding to my fleet of limos and sedans to keep up with business in Houston alone.” “That’s great, Logan. So is that what this little gathering is all about, bud? Celebrating your success?” Logan’s smile reminded Whit of Mallory, although that’s where the resemblance ended. His eyes were blue, his hair black like his mother’s. To women, he probably qualified as the most striking of the O’Brien boys even though there wasn’t an ugly one in the bunch. But all Logan had to do was flash his teeth and dimples and the ladies fell all over him like frogs on a fly. Whit had witnessed that on more than one occasion during their longtime friendship. Logan tossed a burger, caught it on the spatula like a practiced wide receiver, and slid it back on the grill. “Do I have to have a reason to get the family together?” “It’s the middle of the week, so I figure something’s up.” “It is, but it’s not about my company.” Logan pushed the cover down on the grill and took a draw from his beer. He held up the can and nodded toward the cooler by his feet. “Want one?” “No. I’m driving tonight.” And Mallory could very well be in the house, getting toasted. She rarely had wine and never more than one. Hopefully tonight she wouldn’t decide to consume the whole bottle. He wanted her completely coherent later tonight. He wanted her to remember every detail. After a long bout of silence, Logan finally said, “This past weekend, I asked Helena to marry me, and she said yes. We’re going to announce it tonight after dinner.” Exactly what Mallory had expected and dreaded. Whit quelled the urge to tell his friend that his fiancée was fraternizing with his brother. “Congratulations, O’Brien. When’s the wedding?” Logan lifted the grill cover again, this time flipping one burger onto the ground. “Oh, hell.” Oh, hell was right. Logan was usually composed even in dire situations, but he looked pretty damn nervous at the moment. “Man, the word wedding has you all shook up. Are you sure you want to do this?” “Yeah, I’m sure.” He didn’t sound all that confident to Whit. “Are you sure you’re sure?” “Helena’s pregnant.” Well, that explained a lot to Whit. “Congratulations twice then.” Again, Logan didn’t look too pleased. “I want you to keep this to yourself. The family doesn’t know yet and that includes Mallory. We’ll tell everyone when the time is right.” “I won’t say anything.” He would leave that honor to Logan, and considering Mallory’s opinion of Helena and the fact that she was trying to get pregnant, he figured her reaction might not be too pleasant. He also doubted that Logan’s reaction to Whit’s trying to get Mallory pregnant wouldn’t be positive, either. “It looks like these things are ready now.” Logan began to slide the patties onto the plate, stacking them helter-skelter until Whit thought they might all end up on the ground. “Let me hold that,” Whit said, taking the platter from him. “I prefer lettuce, not grass, on my burger.”

After he was done, Logan pulled off the apron and tossed it aside on a nearby webbed lawn chair. “Has my sister been treating you okay?” Now Whit was in danger of spilling the food. “Sure. You know Mallory. She’s easy.” Logan frowned. “Oh, yeah?” Oh, hell. “You know what I mean. Easy to live with.” “We’re talking about my sister, the one who has to have total order? The one who hasn’t done a spontaneous thing in her life?” Except for removing her panties in the car. Whit felt the heat rise, and it wasn’t coming from the barbecue grill. “Yeah, that’s true, but we complement each other. I’m a slob and she’s a neat freak. Overall, it’s working out fairly well.” “Then I take it she’s not moving out anytime soon?” “Not for a while. Good downtown lofts are hard to find.” And making a baby took time. Even in the limited light, Whit could see suspicion in Logan’s expression, heard it in his voice when he said, “Are you sure you’re telling me everything?” Surely Whit hadn’t looked that obvious. Surely “I want your sister real bad” wasn’t broadcast across his face. “What do you mean?” “Look, Whit, if Mallory’s getting on your nerves, you only have to tell me. I’ll have a talk with her. I’ll even help her look for another place.” Whit released a slow breath of relief. “She’s not getting on my nerves.” Under his skin, yes. On his nerves, no. “It wouldn’t surprise me if she’s driving you insane. Mallory’s uptight. She probably needs to find a man and have a good roll now and then. I’m betting she hasn’t had sex in a long time.” “Try three years,” Whit blurted out before giving it much thought. “You’re kidding? She told you that?” “Yeah, she did.” A day after she’d told him she wanted him to get her pregnant, a little detail Whit decided to omit. “She doesn’t have time to date, or so she says.” “She’s scared, Whit, and that’s understandable considering she was married to an ass. But she doesn’t have to get serious with anyone. She just needs to loosen up a little and have some fun with a guy. Maybe you should help her out.” Logan was giving him permission to bed his sister? No way. “You want me to have sex with her?” “Hell, no. But you have friends. Maybe you could fix her up.” Whit couldn’t even begin to consider that. In fact, the thought of Mallory with another man, sleeping with another man, made him pretty damned mad. “Sure Logan. I can just see it now. ‘Hey, Joe, I have this uptight roommate. Mind servicing her so she doesn’t worry so much about the dust on my CDs?’ Mallory deserves better than that.”

Logan sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. She’s been hurt enough. She doesn’t need to be hurt again.” That comment gave Whit pause and the urge to get away. He held up the plate. “Let’s get these inside before the masses have an uprising.” “Yeah,” Logan said. “I imagine my mother’s ready to stuff a bun in Doc Grote’s mouth after that boil story.” As they walked back into the house, Whit and Logan shared in a few laughs and some small talk about their jobs, just like old times. Whit was more than grateful the conversation about Mallory had dropped, even though he couldn’t shake the possibility that he could somehow hurt Mallory if he went through with their plan. He decided then and there it wasn’t going to happen. He cared about her. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, physically or emotionally. They’d both entered into this agreement, eyes wide open, with no expectations beyond having a child. He would try to give her the baby she wanted so badly, and tonight, he would treat her well, make her feel special—and damn good—exactly as she deserved. Or die trying. She was a good woman. The very best.

Mallory felt like a loose woman. All during dinner, she’d tolerated comments about her clothing from her brothers, but at least her future sister-in-law, and even Helena, had served up some compliments. Overall, the evening was going well though Mallory was more than ready to get it over with and go home with Whit. For night number one of the baby-making plan. Just that thought made her shaky, made her want to seek him out and get him alone for a while in her old bedroom. That thought sent her down the hall to her door still sporting the pink and green sign that read Mallory’s Place—Enter At Your Own Risk. After opening the door, she smiled when she thought about her mother’s insistence on keeping the room exactly as it had been when she’d moved out. Straight ahead, the shelves were still lined with her favorite books and volleyball trophies, the bright yellow beanbag still sat in the corner. To her left, the white French provincial canopy bed was still draped with the sunflower spread. And on that bed, stretched out in the middle of her large collection of stuffed animals, was the most gorgeous man in the house. Mallory quickly closed the door behind her and leaned back against it for support. “What are you doing in here?” Whit remained in place, hands propped behind his neck, long legs laid out the length of the mattress. He made the bed look so small and made Mallory feel so hot. So far the sex tips seemed to be working. Only time would tell. “Thought I might find you in here,” he said. “I haven’t seen much of you tonight.” “Same here. I thought maybe you’d left without me.” “Not a chance.” He came slowly to his feet then strolled toward her, hands in pockets, lethal smile on his face. He paused right in front of her, bringing with him the heady scent of his cologne and an up-close look at his square jaw that showed the first signs of evening stubble. “Did you miss me?” Mallory released her grip on the doorknob behind her and adjusted his collar. “Maybe a little.”

He inched closer. “So, what have you been doing? Downing a bottle of wine?” Tip Number 8: Alcohol loosens inhibitions, but it can also hinder sensation. Limit your intake. “I only had one glass. For the most part, I’ve been visiting with the family. How ’bout you?” He braced one palm on the door above her head and leaned closer. “I had an interesting conversation with your brother.” Having Whit so near made Mallory’s chest constrict with her effort to breath and speak. “Which one?” “Logan. He’s worried we’re not getting along.” Boy, was Logan ever wrong. “Really?” “Yeah. He also thinks you need to have sex and he wanted me to help out.” “He told you to have sex with me?” “That’s what I thought he was saying, but actually he meant help out as in fix you up. I told him I wouldn’ t do it, set you up with some guy so you can have a quick tumble between the sheets.” His expression turned from seductive to serious. “I said I didn’t want you to get hurt.” “That’s considerate of you.” He caressed her cheek and studied her face. “I don’t want to hurt you, Mallory.” She laid her palm on his hand. “You’re not going to hurt me, Whit. I’ve known that from the beginning when we agreed to have this baby. You confirmed that last night.” “Are you still sure you want to do this?” He was giving her an out, one she didn’t want to take. “Very sure. Aren’t you?” This time she held her breath, waited and wondered and worried until he asked, “Are you still wearing your panties?” followed by another intoxicating smile. She smiled from relief. “Actually, I considered giving them to Dr. Grote in hopes of providing a distraction so he’d quit talking about the massive boil.” Whit’s laugh was low, gruff and sexy beyond all bounds. “I take it you decided not to go through with that plan.” “Yes, but you’re welcome to verify that fact.” Wrapping his arms securely around her, he pulled her against him. “Believe me, I will. And I’m ready when you are.” Mallory decided she was ready. Very ready, from her breasts to her belly to below. “I’d love to leave right this minute, but we’ve been summoned into the backyard.” “Then I guess we’ll just have to settle for this for now.” Whit laid his lips on hers, tenderly at first, then more eagerly as he deepened the kiss. His tongue was smooth as silk gliding against hers, as were his hands as he explored her back then slid them down to her bottom. She could feel the strength of his arousal that most likely matched hers. Felt the heat of his body,

the nudge of his pelvis, his erection pressing against her. Even in her near-mindless state, she could imagine having him touching her all over, how it would feel to have him inside her, finally. After ending the kiss, Whit slid his lips up her neck and then rested them at her ear. “You’ve done it now. I’m so damned hard, I’m going to have to find that hedge after all.” She smiled around the shivers and nodded toward the door leading to the bath that joined her room with the twins’ former room. “Go wash your face and meet me in a few minutes. But it’s probably best we don’t get near each other for the time being.” “I guess I can suffer through that for a little while longer.” She kissed him quick, backed to the door and turned the knob behind her, before she changed her mind and started the consummation in the middle of her stuffed animals. “I’ll see you in the car.” He gave her another steamy grin. “Oh, yeah, I’ll definitely see you then.”

“Helena and I are getting married.” So there it was, the “official” announcement of Whit’s best friend’s impending wedlock. Although the family applauded, Whit sensed a definite tension in the air. He saw it in Lucy’s face, heard it in the lack of gusto in Dermot’s toast. And he definitely noticed it in Mallory’s expression, illuminated by the lone yard light where she now stood, several yards away from him. He hung back on the patio, waiting for the congratulatory comments to die down before he connected with the groom and bride-to-be. Mallory came to his side and murmured, “Well, I was right. I hope they’ re happy, but I have my doubts.” “Logan knows what he’s doing, Mallory,” Whit said, even though he had his own reservations. Serious reservations. “I’m not so sure about that,” she said. “Seems to me Helena was much more in tune with Kevin tonight.” “I noticed that, too,” he admitted. “But you know how Kevin is.” “Yes, he’s a predator. And poor Corri should tell him to clean up his act, or hit the road.” “She’s a devoted fiancée, I will say that.” Mallory nodded toward the newly engaged couple. “Shall we get this over with? I’m ready to leave.” So was Whit, for many reasons, the most important being he wanted to get her naked. “Sure. After you.” Whit followed behind Mallory, greatly enjoying the gentle sway of her hips in that skirt. For his own sanity, he studied to the stars, hoping he didn’t trip on his way to his destination. Once they arrived at the picnic table, Whit gave Logan the typical male hug—hard, macho and brief. “Congrats, you two,” he said. “Got any idea when the big event might happen?” Logan smiled and circled his arm around his fiancée. “We haven’t decided—” “The third week of July,” Helena said.

Mallory frowned. “That’s not a lot of time to plan.” Helena giggled. “Oh, I’ve been planning this my whole life. Besides, my mother will insist on taking care of all the details.” She raised her hand and flashed a rock of a ring at Mallory. “Did you see it?” Mallory leaned over and studied the multicarat diamond. “Very nice, Logan. You’ve done a good job picking out the ring.” Her tone said he hadn’t done so hot picking out his bride. “Thanks, sis.” He nudged Helena forward. “Now my fiancée would like to ask you a question.” “Yes, Helena?” At least Mallory had smiled when she’d said it, but Whit could tell the gesture was forced. “I would like for you to be my bridesmaid,” Helena said. “I have some gorgeous dresses selected.” “Just let me know when and where.” Whit decided Mallory had just won the Lack of Enthusiasm award for the evening. “And you have to be my best man, Manning,” Logan said. “I’m honored, bud.” And Whit was, despite his concerns that Logan could be making a mistake. At that moment, the mad doctor decided to pay a visit, a stubby cigar poised between his thumb and forefinger, completing the Marx look. “Logan, I’m mighty proud of you.” He grinned at Helena. “I was the first one to slap his bare ass, you know.” Mallory grabbed Whit by the arm and started tugging him toward the house. “Well, we need to go, everyone. Night, Logan, Helena, Dr. Grote.” “Just a minute, young lady,” the doctor said. “I want to have a word with you.” Without breaking stride, Mallory said over one shoulder, “We really have to go now, Dr. Grote. I need to get home since I have to be at work early in the morning.” Mallory picked up the pace as if being chased by Satan’s spawn. Whit was in a big hurry too, but his thoughts centered on what they had planned for tonight, not the following day. And just when he’d thought they’d made their escape, he heard one final comment delivered by the discombobulated doctor. “Logan, is that the young man who’s trying to get your sister pregnant?”

Six “I cannot believe that just happened.” Mallory removed her hands from her face to gauge Whit’s reaction. He hadn’t started the car, hadn’t even fastened his seatbelt. He just continued to stare at the back end of Logan’s massive all-terrain vehicle parked in front of the Seville. “Do you think anyone else heard besides Logan and Helena?” he asked, following a few more moments of silence. Mallory feigned an optimism she didn’t begin to feel. “I don’t think so. The rest of the family had gone back into the house.” “You know, your brother’s going to call me in the morning and give me the third degree.”

“I know. Just tell him Dr. Grote is senile. I only wish I hadn’t made an appointment with him first when I decided to get pregnant.” Whit shot a glance at her. “He’s not going to treat you if you get pregnant, is he?” “No way do I want him delivering my baby.” “Our baby,” Whit said. “Which reminds me, we still have to take care of that tonight. Now let’s get out of here.” Mallory needed no reminders. Making love with Whit had been on her mind all day and all night. And so had her plan according to list number two. Now she just had to find the courage to go through with it. Whit buckled up but when he put the key in the ignition, she asked, “Aren’t you forgetting something?” When he turned his attention to her, she pointed at her lap. “You said you wanted to take them off next time.” Comprehension dawned in his expression and then surprise. “You want me to do it now?” “Why not?” “What if someone comes out?” Mallory discovered she liked keeping Whit totally off-kilter, instead of the other way around. “Then I guess you better hurry.” He recovered quickly, apparent when he said, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Mallory drew in a shaky breath as he took off her black slides, then slid his hands up her skirt, grabbed the scrap of silk and pulled it leisurely down her legs. After he had the thong removed, he tossed it into the backseat. “Anything else?” A tank of oxygen would be in order. “Not at the moment. How about you?” He rubbed his chin. “Yeah. Take off your bra.” Make that two tanks of oxygen. “That’s going to be difficult unless I take off my blouse.” “I’ve seen women do it without taking off their tops.” She just bet he had. “You know, Manning, we really could get caught.” According to one of the tips, that prospect alone tended to fuel the fire, and Mallory’s internal fire was approaching five-alarm status. He gave her a knockout grin. “Then I guess you better hurry.” She smiled and shrugged. “Okay. After all, my mother complained all night about seeing it through my shirt.” She slipped her hands beneath the back of the blouse, undid the rear closure then worked the straps down her arms. In one quick sweep, she pulled the bra away and handed it to Whit. After a brief inspection, he tossed it back to join her thong and then powered his seat back. “I need more room.” Mallory’s gaze homed in on his lap, confirming exactly why he needed more room. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

“I’m a long way from comfortable,” he muttered, then asked, “Can we go now?” sounding and looking as eager as Mallory felt. “Just one more thing,” she said. “A promise, actually.” Draping one arm over the wheel, he shifted to face her, his expression solemn as if he sensed the importance of her impending request. “Go ahead.” Tip Number Six: Verbally express your needs. “I want you to promise that whatever I request tonight, you’ll do it, no questions asked. Stop, go, whatever.” “I won’t do anything you don’t want to do, Mallory.” “I know.” She trusted him, otherwise she could never go through with this. After securing her seat belt and drawing in a shallow breath, she said, “Now we can go.” Following a full-throttle kiss that had Mallory shifting in her seat, Whit started the ignition and peeled out into the street. No doubt he’d disrupted the entire neighborhood, including her own family, who had thankfully remained sequestered inside the house instead of witnessing her little semi-striptease. Tension hung thick in the car as they left the subdivision, apparent by the lack of conversation and several exchanged glances. Mallory felt brave and bold and deliciously devious, driving her to turn toward Whit as far as the restraint would allow. Whit demonstrated his awareness of the signals she was sending by tracing a random pattern with a fingertip on the inside of her bare knee. She laid her arm over the back of the seat, toyed with the fringe of hair above his collar, curled her right leg beneath her and in turn, brought her hem higher up her legs. As they curved onto the main thoroughfare leading to the interstate that would take them back downtown, Mallory felt as if her skin might melt right off her bones. She noticed Whit was driving much more slowly than usual, but she didn’t really care when, at every stoplight, he kissed her quite meticulously and moved his hand higher up her thigh. In fact, he seemed to be timing the lights where he was forced to stop at every one. At the third light, he palmed her breast through the blouse’s sheer fabric, working her nipple into a tight knot as he plied her with another hot kiss. He slid his hand higher, this time beneath the skirt, coming close to the crease of her thigh. She ached to know that if he did touch her, would she finally discover what she’d been missing? Or would she again be disappointed? All signs pointed to the former, and she refused to wait a moment longer to find out. When they approached the next stoplight, Mallory pointed toward the side street leading to a recreational area. “Turn here.” Whit shot her a look of confusion. “I hope like hell you’re not suggesting we get out and play soccer.” “Not hardly. If you’ll just do it, you’ll find a nice little place in the back of the park where we can park.” “We only have twenty minutes before we’re home and in bed.” Tip Number Ten: Beds can be boring. Try different locations. Mallory’s favorite tip. She couldn’t be lousy in bed if she wasn’t in a bed. Kind of skewed logic, but it worked for her at the moment. “You promised me anything, Whit.” She ran her hand up his leg and brushed a fingertip over his distended fly. “I really don’t think you would object to a little in-transit foreplay, would you?” Without issuing another protest, Whit whirled onto the street and didn’t slow down until he came to the

secluded parking lot at the farthest point from the entrance road. He pulled the sedan in the corner of the lot beneath a huge oak, positioning the car parallel to the parking stops. Before turning off the ignition, he reached up and pressed the button that controlled the sunroof, opening it to reveal the star-covered sky. A slight breeze filtered into the car, but it didn’t alleviate the heat flowing through Mallory when Whit shut off the engine and unsnapped his seat belt. After she released her own restraint, Mallory expected him to swoop down on her, kiss her senseless and touch her without mercy. Instead, he leaned back against the driver’s door and trained his dark eyes on her. “Okay, Mallory, you’re calling all the shots. Tell me what you want me to do.” Oh, how she’d imagined this all during dinner and the drive. “Take off your shirt,” she told him, her voice little more than a breathy whisper. Without speaking, he tugged the polo from the jeans’ waistband, pulled it over his head and then added it to the pile of clothing in the back. “All done.” Mallory was close to coming undone when she surveyed his gorgeous chest cast in the rays of the full moon above and the halogen light to the right of the car. She wanted to touch him, was dying to touch him, from his pale brown nipples to his ridged belly. She planned to do that shortly. “Now recline your seat.” For a moment Mallory thought he might question her, but he simply said, “Okay” and faced forward again, setting the seat into motion, sending it back and reclining it simultaneously as far as the control would allow, almost horizontal to the sunroof. He leaned back, hands laced behind his head, a cute and somewhat cocky smile on his face. “This is pretty comfortable. Anything else you want me to do?” She could tell him, or she could show him. After a brief mental pep talk, Mallory hiked up her skirt and climbed onto his lap to straddle his thighs, exactly as she’d done when he’d agreed to have a baby. Except tonight, things were just a tad bit different. If Whit was at all shocked by her boldness, she certainly couldn’t tell from his face. In fact, he looked rather pleased, and he felt incredibly hard beneath her bare bottom, all of him. He remained silent, his hands still propped behind his head, watching her with an unwavering gaze, waiting for to make the next move, she surmised. And she did by attempting to undo her blouse with fumbling fingers. Whit took over then, raising up to release each button with deft precision, and much more speed than she thought possible. But then he’d had quite a bit of experience, something she really didn’t want to consider at the moment. She didn’t completely remove the blouse, just let it hang open to reveal her bare breasts. Yet he didn’t make a move to touch her. In fact, he dropped back against the seat again and continued to survey the scene. That definitely would not do, and Mallory decided she needed to do something to get him going. When she circled a fingertip around his nipple, only then did she see the chink in Whit’s composure, verified by the hard set of his jaw when he traced a path down the cleft between her breasts. “I want to touch you, too, Mallory.” “I want you to touch me.” Did she ever. “With my mouth.” And she didn’t think she could get any hotter. “Be my guest.” Nudging her toward him with a palm on her back, Whit drew her nipple into his mouth, creating a flow of damp heat that settled in a place Mallory had ignored far too long. Every stroke of his tongue, every pull of his lips, seduced her into total oblivion. She immersed herself in the sensations. Sexual, sublime, unrepressed.

Mallory squirmed in his lap until she thought she might go totally over the edge. He halted her movement with his hands braced on her hips and the low command, “Stop or this is going to be over before we really get started.” “Whit, I need…” Her broken respiration and shattered thoughts prevented her from voicing that need, but she soon realized the lack of necessity in telling him. Whit established he knew exactly what she needed and where, when he pulled her skirt up until it was nothing more than a wrinkled tube of denim below her waist, leaving her completely open to his eyes and his hands. This time he didn’t tell her what he intended to do. He simply did it, sliding his callused palms up her bare thighs and joining them between her legs. He used his thumbs like feathers, parting her flesh, stroking and stoking more fire, more dampness, more absolute sensation. Mallory could only watch in total disbelief, experience the building pressure in mute wonder when he slipped a finger inside her. The momentary urge to resist came over her, but when Whit whispered, “Don’t think, Mallory, just feel,” he forced that urge away. He had totally captured her thoughts, her whole being with his tempered caress and his intense gaze that he kept leveled on her eyes. She couldn’t control her pounding heart or the unrelenting tremble. Couldn’t control her own body’s demands even though she fought the release, but not for the same reasons she’d fought it in the past. She’d waited so long, wanted this so badly, she needed it to go on forever. Needed to savor each and every impression. But forever wasn’t possible, especially when Whit quickened the pace, urging her toward a state of total mindlessness. The sudden onslaught of spasms hit her in strong, steady waves, stealing her breath and encouraging a soft moan from her mouth. Aside from that and the pulse pounding in her ears, all other sound seemed to disappear. Everything seemed to disappear around her, except for Whit’s whispered words of praise. Whit’s soft, satisfied smile that slowly came into focus. Whit’s beautiful dark eyes that seemed to look right through her. And finally she knew how it felt to be a truly sensual being, capable of experiencing the ultimate pleasure at the hands of the ultimate man. Totally wasted, Mallory collapsed against his chest, gasping for breath and very sorry that it had been over so soon, yet thrilled that it had finally happened for her. Better still, she knew it wouldn’t be the last time she would feel this way, at least not for several nights. Now she felt like a kid with a new toy. Whit held her closely against his heart and rubbed her back beneath the blouse. “I told you there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with you, didn’t I?” Mallory couldn’t help but tease him a little. She lifted her head and smiled. “How do you know I wasn’t faking it?” “Because I felt you, babe. That was one hell of a big O.” She shivered for about the hundredth time tonight. “I guess that’s what happens when you’ve waited as long as I have to have one.” “And it’s not going to be the last tonight. As soon as we get home and in bed, we’re going to do it all over again.” Mallory wasn’t ready to go home, and she didn’t want a bed. She wanted Whit now. All of him. Every divine inch of him. On a heady rush of adrenaline, she straightened and attacked his belt, this time with more dexterity than she had with her own buttons. Whit caught her wrist and asked, “What are you doing?” but his query or his grip did not prevent her from continuing toward her goal.

After she released the lone button on his fly, she glanced up at him. “We’re going to make a baby.” He frowned. “Here?” Slowly she lowered his zipper. “Yes, here.” “You don’t want to wait until we have a bed at our disposal?” “Bed’s are entirely overrated.” “But—” She placed a fingertip to his lips. “You promised, Whit. Anything I ask, and I’m asking you—no, telling you—to take off your pants or I will.” His ensuing smile was just too wicked for words. “This is your idea. You take them off.” Not an easy feat, Mallory thought, and then decided they didn’t have to come all the way off. Aided by Whit raising his hips, she gave the jeans a tug, bent her head to avoid the car’s ceiling and went up onto her knees. With some tricky maneuvering, she managed to push them down his thighs to the top of his knees. Now the boxers she’d purchased—navy silk boxers—were the only thing standing in the way of her goal. Speaking of standing…She could only stare at the prominent bulge, knowing in a matter of moments she would view a part of Whit she had never viewed before. Better still, she would soon know that part of him intimately. When she failed to move, Whit tucked his thumbs into the waistband. “Are you ready?” Was she? “Sure.” He seemed to be just fine with doing the honors, and what an honor it was when he had the boxers pushed down to where she sat on his thighs. He was completely aroused and totally impressive. Granted, she had little to compare him to, but she knew enough to know he was anything but lacking in the size department. Her face aflame to match her body, Mallory looked up to see Whit’s grin had definitely deepened. “Are you ready for a little more pleasure?” “Believe me, the pleasure is all mine.” “Not yet, but it will be.” Bracing one hand on her hip, he guided her forward and up. Mallory felt the nudge of his erection and held her breath. He hesitated for a moment, still studying her eyes with surprising intensity, before he said, “Here’s to making our baby.” He lowered her down gently while lifting his hips at the same time, meeting some resistance when her muscles protested the invasion. But what a sweet invasion it was, even though Whit looked worried. “Am I hurting you?” he asked, his voice low and grainy. To prove that he wasn’t hurting her at all, Mallory took him deeper inside. His breath hissed out of his clenched teeth and he closed his eyes. She pushed a wayward lock of hair from his damp forehead. “Am I hurting you?” “Not in the least.” He opened his eyes and managed a strained smile. “I’ve just never done this without a raincoat. It feels damn good.”

Mallory released a nervous laugh. “I’ve never done this at all. At least not in a car, and never in this position. I kind of like being on top.” “I kind of like you being on top.” She nipped at his lip and soothed it with her tongue. “I hope you like all of it.” He thrust his hips up again, seating himself completely inside her. “Do you like all of it?” “Oh, yes, I do.” After she delivered a deep, driving kiss to illustrate how much she liked it, Mallory allowed instinct to take over, moving in an erotic dance, slow and sultry at first, then faster and harder and wilder with Whit’ s verbal encouragement. She reveled in the excitement of watching a gorgeous man in the throes of lovemaking, something she’d never witnessed before. She took in all the little details—the perspiration beading on his forehead, the tautness in his jaw, the fire in his eyes. She could see the outline of the veins in his neck, the muscles tensing in his chest as she laid her palm on his pounding heart. And when he tightened his hold on her hips and a mild curse slipped out between his parted lips, she experienced the utmost pleasure in her newfound empowerment, knowing she had been capable of sending him to this incredible place, just as he had with her. She also recognized that she could never have done this with anyone other than Whit. No one. She felt the pulse of his climax and saw the surrender in his eyes before he closed them tightly. “Mallory,” slipped out of his lips as a whisper, sounding a lot like a tribute, or at least that’s what Mallory hoped. He slid his hands in her hair then brought her down against his chest, holding her tightly. His breath was harsh but his touch was so gentle as he stroked her hair, then moved his palm to her bare bottom and stroked her there, too. For the longest of moments they stayed that way, silent, satisfied, connected in a way they’d never been connected before, and not only in a physical sense. Mallory couldn’t remember when she’d felt so content, or so ready to repeat the process as soon as possible. Easy. Never. Jerry had rarely held her after lovemaking. He’d never touched her the way Whit had. She didn’t really know if it had been total ignorance on his part or a total lack of regard for her needs. They’d been too young and not nearly enough in love. But that was in the past, and tonight she planned to bury old recriminations once and for all in Whit’s strong arms. “You’re right, O’Brien, beds are overrated,” Whit said, interrupting the quiet. “Told you so,” she answered while tracing the path of his collarbone with a fingertip. “This is great. Except for the leg cramps. Guess I should’ve stretched before we did this.” She lifted her head and gave him an apologetic look. “I’ll move over.” He nudged her back down against his chest. “Let’s just wait a few more moments to make sure it took.” “What are the chances of that happening the first time?” “Considering how long you made me wait, probably pretty good. I think I’ve built up enough sperm to fertilize all of Harris County.” She laughed again. Classic Whit. “I really do hope we—”

“Be quiet a minute,” he said. “Do you hear it?” Mallory strained to listen but couldn’t hear anything aside from the distant sounds of traffic and the occasional hum of a locust. “What?” “Voices.” Mallory raised her head again and stared at him. “You’re imagining things.” He inclined his head and narrowed his eyes, then grinned. “They’re coming around the turn in the first annual Sperm Derby, with Betsy our current leader but Bruno closing in on her tail. Betsy’s a sure bet to have enough stamina to last the quarter mile, but Bruno’s faster and threatening to take the lead as they approach the finishing egg—” She slapped his arm, hard. “Bruno and Betsy?” He looked incensed. “What’s wrong with Bruno Manning? He could be a defensive lineman.” “I was on top, so that’s Betsy O’Brien-Manning, buster.” “Hyphenating works for me, but do we have to add buster to the end?” Mallory laughed again. She simply couldn’t help it. “Leave it to you to make the whole conception process into a sporting event.” He framed her face in his palms, his expression suddenly somber. “I’d gladly exchange watching horse racing or my favorite teams for more of this with you.” A tiny little tug at her heart, a soft whispered warning in her head, and Mallory realized how close she was to traveling down a path she didn’t dare take. “I think maybe we should consider going home now, before you can’t walk in the morning.” He kissed her quickly. “Good idea. But like I told you when you first imposed that three-day waiting period, I haven’t been walking all that great anyway.” Mallory gave him a smile, moved off his lap and was struck with an unexpected bout of melancholy. Hormones. That had to be it. She always got a little crazy around ovulation time, and that was a very good sign. At least she could now assume she was ovulating. Of course, she could have gotten a predictor kit to know for sure. She could have taken her temperature and kept some charts. But in this instance, she preferred to leave it all up to chance, because if she discovered conditions were poor to conceive, she truly wasn’t sure she could handle the news. At least not yet. Mallory tugged down her skirt and retrieved her bra, opting to put it back on in order to walk past the building’s parking attendant with some dignity once they arrived home. She left the thong in the back seat because she was just too tired to worry about that at the moment. Feeling somewhat more presentable, she glanced at Whit to find he still hadn’t moved himself or the seat. He had pulled the boxers into place, but his jeans remained at his thighs and his chest was still bare. Even in his disheveled state, he radiated raw sex appeal, and Mallory had a good mind—what was left of her mind—to strip and climb back onboard the love train. But since it was getting late, and they still had to work tomorrow, she decided it might be the better part of valor to encourage him to take them home. “What are you waiting for?” she asked as she snapped her seat belt into place. “My circulation to return,” he said without looking at her. “I didn’t realize certain parts could actually go

that numb, but I guess—” He straightened and inclined his head as he had a few moments before. “Do you hear that?” Mallory rolled her eyes, the gesture totally lost on Whit since he’d turned his attention to the rearview mirror. “Don’t tell me. Bruno just made it to the egg.” “Oh, hell.” Mallory jerked around to look behind her and saw a shadowy figure striding toward the car. Whit yanked up his jeans and zipper and practically climbed over the seat to grab up his shirt, but he didn’t get it on before a beam of light shone inside the window, landing right on the discarded thong. Mallory closed her eyes and tipped her head back against the seat while Whit muttered a string of curses before saying, “What can I do for you, officer?” “Both of you please exit the car and keep your hands in full view.”

“Whit Manning, I can’t believe you found that so amusing.” Yeah, Whit found the whole thing pretty damn funny and ironic. He’d been parking on more than one occasion during his formative years, but he’d waited until he was thirty-three to finally get caught. But he didn’t find Mallory’s sudden aloofness funny at all. She was backed up against the elevator wall while they traveled the nine floors to their apartment, and she’d clung to the car’s door handle on their journey back from the park. “No real harm done, Mallory,” he said. “They were park security, not city cops. Now if they’d arrived about ten minutes earlier, that might have been a little harder to explain.” “Explain? I had to explain that I wasn’t a hooker.” Whit stifled his own laugh for fear she might come across the elevator car and slug him. “Exactly how did you answer that?” “Simple. I gave him my driver’s license and my business card. When he saw I was an attorney, he was very polite.” “See? Your reputation is still intact.” This time, Whit couldn’t stop his chuckle. “At least you didn’t have to endure the first guy’s comments about how I was too old to be fooling around in a car. I told him it wasn’t my idea.” Mallory’s eyes widened. “You didn’t!” “I’m kidding. But if I recall, it wasn’t my idea.” She lowered her eyes. “That’s true, but I didn’t know we were going to be reprimanded like a couple of horny teenagers.” “We were acting like a couple of horny teenagers.” Unable to stand being so far from her, Whit crossed the elevator and braced a hand above her head. “And enjoying it, I might add. At least I enjoyed it, and I ’m pretty sure you did, too.” The bell sounded and the doors sighed open, announcing their arrival. Mallory didn’t hesitate to duck under his arm and rush out. Whit realized he had a real battle on his hands tonight—convincing Mallory

that what they’d done hadn’t been so terrible. In his opinion, it had been great. Better than great. And he wanted to do it again. In the corridor, he followed behind Mallory, who strode at a fast clip to the door. She fumbled with her key, forcing Whit to take it from her, otherwise they might be standing in the hallway for an interminable amount of time. What he had planned to improve her mood wouldn’t work in the hallway. Okay, it would work, but they would risk getting caught in a compromising position twice in one night. And that might be the last time she would let him touch her. In the foyer, Whit tossed his keys onto the entry table and Mallory did the same with her purse. The exact routine they followed every night, yet tonight was different. They’d shared more than dinner, more than their favorite TV show. What they had done was still lingering in Whit’s mind and affecting his body. He should be totally satisfied and completely exhausted. Instead, he wanted her all over again. “I’m going to take a shower and go to bed,” Mallory said, destroying Whit’s hope of a repeat performance, at least tonight. But he wasn’t going to let her get away that quickly. “After your shower, meet me in the den. We need to talk.” She started slipping the buttons on her blouse. “Can’t we just talk in the morning? It’s getting late.” “No, we can’t. We need to clear a few things up.” “There’s nothing to clear up. We did it, and it was fine.” “Fine?” That really ticked him off. “It was only fine?” The phone started ringing, interrupting Whit’s tirade before he had a chance to get started. “I’ll get it,” he said as he headed down the hall then turned and walked backward, facing her. “But we’re not finished with this yet.” Once in the bedroom, he yanked the phone from its charger and spewed an irritable, “Yeah.” “Are you planning to get my sister pregnant?” Logan. Damn. Couldn’t he have at least waited until morning? “What gave you that idea?” More like who. “Dr. Grote said Mallory wants to get pregnant.” “And you automatically assume that involves me.” “Yeah, I do.” He hated to lie to his friend, but he would do so for Mallory’s sake. “Look, Logan, just because we live together doesn’t necessarily mean—” “I saw you kissing her in the car.” Double damn. “What?” “Helena and I were coming out of the gate from the backyard, about to head home, and I saw you two in a lip-lock. So don’t even bother denying it.”

Whit let go a frustrated sigh. “Okay, I was kissing her. It just happened.” “Nothing just happens with you, Whit. I’ve known you too many years not to believe you’ve been planning this. In fact, I’d guess something’s been going on between the two of you for a while now.” Try three whole days. “You know something? I don’t appreciate you thinking I’d automatically go after Mallory just because she’s living under the same roof. Besides, you’re the one who convinced me to take her in. If you didn’t trust that I would treat her well, you wouldn’t have done it.” “I did trust you, Whit, and I trusted Mallory to resist you. Guess I was wrong.” His ears began to ring. “We’re both adults, and whatever we do with each other or to each other is none of your damn business.” “Then you’re not going to deny you’re planning to get her pregnant?” “I’m not going to say anything else, so you can quit grilling me.” “I am going to say something else, Whit, and you’re going to listen. Don’t do anything to hurt her, or you’ ll answer to me. And don’t make me regret that you’re my friend.” With that, Logan hung up, not giving Whit a chance to respond. But what could he say? He’d never intended to betray his best friend’s trust. He sure as hell had never intended to bed Logan’s sister. But he had bedded Mallory, minus the bed, and he didn’t regret it. He didn’t regret agreeing to get her pregnant, either. But Mallory might. He intended to find that out and convince her they had nothing to regret. What the hell. He needed a shower anyway.

Seven W hen the shower door opened, Mallory released an audible gasp and tried to cover herself. A totally knee-jerk reaction and silly, considering Whit had already seen most of her body. But that had been in the dark, and this was in the glare of fluorescent lights, and what was he doing there anyway? “I can’t believe you’d just waltz right in here and invade my privacy.” “I promise you, Mallory, I wasn’t waltzing.” She bit back a smile but that urge faded while others made themselves known when she gave him a quick once-over. “And you’re naked, no less.” Naked and gorgeous, from the top of his ruffled dark hair to the tips of his seriously cute toes and all those in-between parts that were much too hard to ignore. Literally. He pushed the nozzle away, sending the spray down the black tiled walls, and folded his arms across his broad chest, looking as indifferent as if they were standing in a conference room, not bare in the bath. “Most people shower naked.” “Yes, but I don’t remember inviting you in here.” “We’re going to continue our conversation. We can do it in here, or in the den or on the roof, for that matter. Just as long as we do it.” Mallory shouldn’t do it, but she did it anyway, zeroed in on a trickle of water leisurely tracking the thin path of dark hair leading down his flat belly. And of all things, she kept right on going to find something

sinister, and sexy, stirring down south. “I didn’t realize Mr. Happy could talk.” As suspected, she looked up to find him grinning like mad. “Oh, yeah, and he’s telling me that if we don’t start talking soon, we’re going to dispense with all talk.” Frustrating man. “I really don’t know what we need to talk about that can’t wait until morning.” “Logan called.” Great. Just great. “What did he say?” Whit pulled the nozzle back into position and stepped underneath it, entirely too close for Mallory’s comfort. “Do you want all the details now?” The details of Whit’s body happened to have garnered all her interest. She simply couldn’t concentrate with him standing there, naked and wet. “I’m finished, so I’m going to get dressed now.” He slicked his hair back with one hand. “Fine, I’m going to finish, then I’ll meet you in the den.” “Good.” “Fine.” She continued to stare at him, one giant macho magnet acting on her as if she were made of iron. She wished she had an iron will but unfortunately, she didn’t. At least not around him. At least not anymore. Determined to remain strong, Mallory backed out of the transparent shower stall and closed the door, dried off in record time, tucked her hair into the towel then shrugged on her terry robe. But she couldn’t stop watching Whit from the mirror’s reflection as she applied moisturizer to her face and brushed her teeth much longer than required. Couldn’t ignore the definite look of disdain when he squeezed some of her shower gel into his palm. She certainly couldn’t disregard his palms rubbing the gel into a soapy film first under his arms, then over his well-toned chest, then down his solid thighs and calves, then back up to… Mallory yanked open the drawer and rummaged through it, looking for some kind of distraction. Tweezers seemed in order. She sat on the vanity stool, pulled her two-sided magnifying mirror forward and plucked a few brow hairs that didn’t need plucking at all. If not careful, she’d have no brows at all. “You sure you don’t want to come back in here and join me?” She made the fatal mistake of looking behind her to discover Whit holding open the door, his body slick and so was his smile. He sent her a wink, and she sent him a go-to-hell look as she tossed the tweezers back into the drawer and came to her feet to face him. “You’re getting my shower floor wet.” “I’d rather get you wet.” “I’ve already had my shower.” “That’s not what I mean and you know it.” “I’m leaving now.” And she did, on legs that didn’t seem to want to work, partly from the position she’d maintained in the car during their little interlude and partly because he still made her knees turn as liquid as the shower spray. Once in the den, she stacked several pillows on her favorite quirky red shag rug and dropped down in

the middle of them. Lying back, she stared at the ceiling and tried to analyze her anger aimed at the world in general. She was mad because the first time she’d decided to be daring, someone had called out the guard. Mad at Logan for butting into her business. Mad at Whit for making her hot as a bonfire with only a few seductive words. But, most important, mad at herself, exactly where her anger should be directed, not at Whit. He hadn’t suggested the park; she had. He hadn’t been responsible for the security guards’ untimely visit. But he was responsible for the feelings Mallory had been experiencing tonight and not only the pleasurable ones resulting from great sex. Fuzzy ones resulting from the threat of emotional upheaval. When she really thought about it, those feelings had been trying to worm their way into her heart for some time now. No use in denying that for the past few months, her feelings for him had been changing, ever so slightly, but definitely changing. Every night, she hadn’t been able to contain that little nip of excitement when she’d heard the front door open, knowing it was him. Or if she arrived after him, she looked forward to finding him waiting for her, with his bad-boy smile, live-wire charm and off-color jokes. However, fuzzy feelings should not be in her emotional repertoire. Whit was her friend, the prospective father of her child and nothing more. She should be able to handle that. She’d grown up the only girl in a family full of men, witnessing firsthand the love ‘em and leave ‘em attitude. She should be able to adopt that attitude with Whit, do what she set out to do, then move on. Problem was, she had no one to move on to. And worse, she couldn’t imagine wanting to be with anyone else but Whit. She had to get over it, and she would, just as she always did when she didn’t have a favorable outcome with one of her cases. If luck prevailed, she would make her baby, adhere to an emotional hands-off policy while doing it, then maintain a solid friendship with Whit for the sake of their child. And she certainly would try to not enjoy the process too terribly much. She couldn’t afford to start needing him in that way, too. Easy…until he walked into the room. Mallory’s heart took a little vault into her throat when he nailed her with his smile. The low-slung towel and his shower-damp hair did not aid in keeping her resolve to avoid any carnal cravings. She reminded herself that anything she did with her mouth for the next few minutes should involve only talking. When Whit plopped down onto the rug beside her, Mallory popped up like a springboard. Better to remain off her back in his presence. She grabbed a security pillow and held it tightly against her breasts, even though she was plagued with thoughts of holding him. “So what exactly did Logan say to you?” Whit stretched out on his side, elbow bent and palm supporting his jaw, looking like a top-rate male model. “He wanted to know if I planned to get you pregnant, and I told him it was none of his business.” “You didn’t deny it?” He rubbed a hand over his chest, capturing Mallory’s undivided attention. “Kind of hard to deny something’s going on when he saw us kissing in the car.” Wonderful. Caught twice in one night. “He saw us?” “Yeah, he did. But he’ll probably just drop it for now.” “Do you really think he’s going to let it go that easily?” Mallory didn’t, not in the least. “He’s bound to find out sooner or later when you get pregnant.” If she got pregnant. “You’re right, and we’ll just worry about that when the time comes.” Right now, she had to worry about her strong reaction to his presence, her building desire to have another round of

lovemaking with Whit. She raised her arms above her head, yawned and stretched. “I think it’s time for bed.” He pulled the pillow from her lap and tossed it aside. “That’s exactly what I was thinking. Your bed or mine?” Be strong, Mallory. “You go to your bed and I’ll go to mine. We can try again tomorrow night.” He toyed with the sash on her robe. “It’s not that late, Mallory. And I’d really like to do it better this time.” Better? “Come again?” He presented his crooked smile, the one that would charm any woman from age sixteen to sixty. “That would be a part of the plan.” She should be more careful with her choice of words around Whit. “I’m not sure I want to press my luck, trying twice in one night.” “We won’t know unless we try. You’d be surprised what you can achieve in one night.” Mallory had totally surprised herself earlier tonight, and her body was really throwing her for a loop right now. Just hearing his low, compelling voice had her overheated and shivery, all at the same time. “I have to be into the office early in the morning.” “I’ll make sure you get there on time.” She wanted to say yes. Better still, she wanted to yank off that towel and get down to business. But she was feeling particularly vulnerable at the moment, even if she was also incredibly tempted. “I’d rather wait until tomorrow night.” “Fine.” He kissed her on the forehead like a brother, not like a lover, and came to his feet. “Suit yourself.” “That’s it? No more argument?” “No means no, Mallory. Sleep tight.” She watched him walk away, drawn to the breadth of his back and the outline of his tight butt showing beneath the towel. But those physical aspects didn’t outweigh her growing respect for him. He hadn’t pressed the issue of making love again, and she appreciated that more than he knew. Feeling the need to tell him, Mallory hopped up and rushed up the stairs. He’d already gone into his room and closed the door, but she wouldn’t let that stop her. After a quick knock, she called his name. When he didn’t immediately answer, she decided he was probably angry and intentionally ignoring her. But after a few seconds, he answered her summons wearing a blue flannel robe and a guarded expression. “Yeah?” Slipping her hands into the pockets of her own robe, she studied the carpeted floor beneath her bare feet. “I just wanted to tell you that I appreciate your honoring my wishes tonight.” “No problem.” “I also want you to know that no matter what happens, if I get pregnant or if I don’t, I’ll always be grateful to you.”

“Great.” “And after all that’s happened tonight, with Logan and my hang-ups, I wouldn’t blame you if you changed your mind about this whole thing.” “Change my mind?” Mallory finally looked up to meet his gaze. “Yes. I could understand why you would.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and sighed. “Mallory, more than anything, I want to give you this baby.” He smiled. “Okay, maybe right now more than anything I’d like to get you naked again. But I’ m not going to change my mind. I promised to do this, and I intend to keep that promise.” She released a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” He stepped into the hall and took her in his arms, forming one palm to her jaw and breezing his thumb over her cheek. “There’s still the potential for a lot of damn good lovemaking between us. But I don’t want to push you, or make you regret anything. Especially what happened between us tonight.” “I don’t regret it,” she said, and she didn’t. “But what I did in the car, that really wasn’t me at all.” “Yeah, Mallory, it was you, or a part of you that wants to come out, only you’ve been too resistant to let it out. And you know something? I really like that side of you. Makes me hot as hell just thinking about it.” Time for more truths. “Actually, I read a magazine article on how to uncover my sensual self. That’s where I got all the ideas, from a list of points on how to do that. The clothes, doing it in the car, that sort of thing.” “Now that’s one list I can’t object to. But the truth is, you don’t need any lists, Mallory. You just need to let nature take the lead and that’s what we need to do from this point forward. Agreed?” She gave him a small smile. “I still want a girl, but I guess we could compromise on certain things. One night we can do it one way, the other night, the other way, giving us even odds on determining the gender.” “I don’t care, as long as we do it. Often.” “I could very well wear you out before this is all over.” “And I can’t think of a better way to get worn out than making love with you.” Mallory hugged him hard and when he pulled back, he studied her with a look so sincere, he took her breath. “You’re a beautiful woman, inside and out, and you deserve the best of everything.” She fought back the urge to cry for the second time tonight. “Who would’ve thought you could be such a nice man?” He touched his lips to hers for an innocent kiss and released her. “Well, if you don’t get out of here and go to bed, I’m going to drop the nice guy routine and make love to you standing against the wall.” She sent him a sultry smile. “Standing means conceiving a boy.” His expression turned seriously seductive. “And there’s our compromise for tomorrow night. Nothing better than a hot session standing up.”

In five more seconds, Mallory was in danger of taking him up on the offer tonight. “Hold that thought until tomorrow.” “I’d rather be holding you.” Get out while you can, Mallory. “Tomorrow, while you’re at work, you can think about what we’ll be doing when you get home. That should make the day go by much faster.” “And you can think about this.” Without warning, he turned her around and backed her against the wall. The kiss he gave her made her dizzy and hot, and hotter still with every smooth stroke of his tongue. All too soon, he broke the kiss and dropped his arms from around her. “I’m going to bed now. I need to build up more ammunition.” After a wink and a smile, he walked back into his bedroom and closed the door, leaving Mallory alone in the hall, body blazing and thoughts spinning out of whack. When the mental haze began to subside, she realized how badly she needed to go to bed before she collapsed in her tracks. She also recognized she was quickly becoming addicted to Whit, and that couldn’t be a good thing. Oh, but he was good. Much too good to resist.

After three solid nicks on his jaw, Whit decided he’d lost his touch when it came to something as simple as shaving. Considering Mallory’s continued struggles, he was beginning to believe he’d lost his touch with women, too. He tossed the razor aside, wiped a towel over his jaw, braced his hands on the vanity’s edge and leaned into them. He now knew what the phrase “no rest for the wicked” meant because some fairly wicked thoughts had kept him from sleep well into the night. Then he’d gotten up much earlier than usual, in every sense of the word. Not an uncommon morning occurrence, except the time—5:00 a.m.—barely qualified as morning. Yet his thoughts hadn’t only centered on making love with Mallory. He’d been worried about Mallory in general. He still was. She kept running hot and cold, and, granted, he really liked her hot. But he sensed something stirring deep within her, some hidden facet he had yet to learn, even if at times he felt he knew her better than most. She definitely knew him better than he’d ever thought possible. That troubled the hell out of him at times, to the point that he worried one day she would come home and say she’d had enough of his antics, and then leave. Maybe not now, or at least not until he’d made her pregnant. But after that, he honestly believed she would take off to be on her own, and he didn’t even like to think about that all. He wanted to keep her as his roommate, the best roommate he’d ever had. Hell, she was the only roommate he’d had since college and the only woman he’d invited into his home for more than a few nights. Although living with her had been relatively easy, that was only part of the reason he didn’t want to let her go, even though he resisted taking those other reasons out and examining them. He’d just have to put that off until a later date. At the moment, he had a busy day ahead of him, myriad meetings and smoothing over problems with the current major project, leaving him limited time to mull over his concerns. He wanted to get a head start, needed to get a head start, so he could get home early. Home to Mallory. He dressed in a white shirt and navy slacks, draped his favorite tie around his neck and headed toward the kitchen for coffee. But something drew him down the hall to Mallory’s bedroom. Because of the earliness of the hour, he didn’t bother knocking and instead opened the door to peek inside. As suspected, she was still in bed, turned on her side facing him, eyes closed, hair a tangled auburn mess surrounding her face, looking innocent and sweet and sexy as hell. She hugged a pillow in her arms, something she always did when her nerves got the best of her. She wore a pair of plain, pale blue

pajamas; the covers bunched at her feet looked as if she’d gone three rounds with them during the night. Whit could relate to that, but he couldn’t relate to the strong feelings threatening to surface from a place inside himself he rarely acknowledged existed. He’d like nothing better than to take that pillow’s place. He wanted to say to hell with his job, strip out of his clothes, climb into bed and kiss her all over, beginning with her soft mouth and working his way down her soft body from there. He wanted to make love to her in the first light of morning and not stop until noon for lunch and then start all over again. Or hold her for a while, if nothing else. Instead, he crossed the room and kissed her cheek lightly, then backed out before she woke up and noticed he was there, staring at her like some kid standing in front of a sporting goods store display, pining for a two-hundred-dollar infield glove that he knew he could never really have, or afford to want. Yeah, he had a lot to think about between now and the time this baby-making ordeal was over. And he realized all too well he was beginning to want it to not be over for a long time, if ever.

Mallory wanted the day to be over, and it wasn’t quite noon. All morning long, she’d had trouble concentrating on her clients, thanks to Whit and their escapades the night before. And worse, she’d begun the day with the Wilkinsons—a couple who would just as soon fight than negotiate their impending divorce. Luckily, they’d left a few moments ago without any bloodshed. Bitter words, yes, bloodshed no. At least not yet. Now she had one more couple to meet with before lunch, but at least this husband and wife were beginning an adoption search, not preparing for divorce. Mallory pushed her chair from behind the desk, stood and pressed the intercom. “You can send in the Lathams now, Roz.” “They’re on their way.” As always, Melinda and David Latham entered the room with pleasant smiles on their faces even though they’d endured fifteen years of infertility. But today they looked happier than normal, despite the fact they were just now reviewing a very limited list of prospective mothers-to-be and facing a long, and possibly futile, process. “Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Latham. Have a seat.” Mallory indicated the chairs in front of her desk. After they settled in, she said, “I have some information about a woman in Missouri that I think might interest you.” Melinda Latham exchanged a meaningful look with her husband. “Actually, we just stopped by to thank you for everything, but we won’t be needing your services.” Fairly surprising news to Mallory, considering their last conversation. “Then you’ve changed your mind about adopting?” “Our minds have been changed for us,” David said. “Melinda found out she’s pregnant.” Mallory’s own smile appeared despite the little tug of envy that she quickly put away. “That’s wonderful news.” “And really unexpected,” Melinda said. “But our doctor said it’s not that unusual. A lot of times couples decide to adopt, get their minds off of conception and suddenly it just happens.”

David took his wife’s hand into his. “We couldn’t be happier. We’ve waited a long time for this.” “I know you have,” Mallory said. “And I’m absolutely thrilled for you.” She sincerely was thrilled even though she experienced a bout of wistfulness she tried to write off to fatigue. But she knew better. The closeness of this couple so obviously in love, the realization of their dreams, only reminded her how far off her own dreams now seemed. The pair came to their feet in dismissal. “We’re really grateful for your efforts, Ms. O’Brien,” Melinda said. “And who knows? Maybe you’ve been our lucky charm.” Mallory rose and smiled. “I doubt that, but thanks for the sentiment. And be sure to send me a picture after the baby’s born. Better still, stop by for a visit. I love babies.” David gave her with a wide grin. “You should have one yourself, while you’re still young.” I’m trying, Mallory wanted to say but kept that to herself. “Maybe one of these days,” she said. Hopefully someday soon. After the Lathams departed, Mallory was more determined than ever to get pregnant. She also weighed Melinda’s words about getting her mind off the conception and just letting it happen. Definitely something she needed to seriously consider. Something she really needed to do. Spontaneous sex might be more favorable for a quick conception. No planning, no aforethought. Just go for it. It then occurred to her she had no other appointments until 2:00 p.m. She shrugged on her jacket and picked up her purse with one important goal in mind—taking her lunch break to see a very virile, very sexy man about making a baby.

“Mr. Manning, you have a call on line one.” Whit shoved the mess on his desk to one side in order to locate the phone and depressed the intercom. “Who is it, Sandra?” “She said her name is Ms. Concepcion and that it’s very personal.” Whit went though a mental laundry list of past girlfriends and couldn’t recall dating anyone by that name. “Did she say what she wants?” “No, only that it’s imperative she speak with you right away.” It better be a valid phone call. He’d had enough trouble focusing on work without having to deal with some sneaky solicitor. Punching the blinking line, he barked out an irritable, “Whit Manning.” “Someone sounds like they got up on the wrong side of the bed.” Mallory, the last person he expected to hear from today. “Why the hell have you decided to change your name from O’Brien to Concepcion?” She released a sexy laugh. “I thought it had a nice ring to it considering I’ve been thinking about conception all morning long and what we’re going to do tonight.” So had Whit, the reason behind his lack of concentration. “Is that why you called, to taunt me?” “Actually, I’m on my cell. I’m heading to the apartment as we speak. I thought you might want to meet

me there for lunch.” “I had a late breakfast with clients so I’ve decided to skip lunch.” “Who said anything about food?” Whit couldn’t believe his immediate below-the-belt reaction. Oh, yeah he could. He’d been battling himself since dawn. “Are you suggesting a midday tryst?” “Exactly. I had a little twinge this morning so I’m fairly sure I’m ovulating.” Whit had a real big twinge. “I’m up for it.” “I’m sure you are. Does that mean you’ll meet me?” Whit glanced at his watch. Damn. “I’ve got a big powwow in an hour and I have to meet with my father to prep fifteen minutes beforehand. By the time I get there, we’d have about five minutes before I have to head back.” “Guess I’ll just have to spend my break alone, watching soaps and lamenting what we could be doing.” She paused for a moment. “Or I could come there.” “Here?” “You do have a lock on your door, don’t you?” “Yeah. But I don’t have a bed.” “I’m sure I can find a soft place to land.” “You can use me for that.” “I intend to, and you’re going to enjoy it.” No doubt about it, he was going to enjoy it very much. “How far are you from my office?” “I just passed you on the way to the loft but I can turn around.” Mallory’s suggestion was turning him into a madman. “That sounds like a plan, a little dangerous, but doable.” “Isn’t living a little dangerously fun?” “You didn’t think so last night.” “I’ve changed my mind.” Whit could live with that, if he didn’t die from anticipation. “I’ll be glad to accommodate you, but first I want to know if you’re wearing another thong.” “No. Animal-print panties.” “I’ve always wanted to go on safari without leaving the country.” She laughed again. “What color boxers are you wearing today?”

Oh, hell. He might as well tell her because she would soon find out. “I haven’t done any laundry so I’m wearing briefs.” She let go an impatient sigh. “I’ll forgive you today, as long as you agree to the office interlude.” “After all this talk, if we don’t do it then I’ll risk losing all my self-respect in front of major clients. Now get off the phone and get over here immediately. And use your real name. Otherwise you’re going to confuse Sandra.” “Okay. I’ll be there in five minutes.” “I’ll be waiting.” Waiting and wondering just how they were going to accomplish this mating session without hurting something, or getting caught. Whit reclaimed his professionalism long enough to call his admin. “When Ms. O’Brien arrives, send her in. And hold all my calls for the next forty-five minutes.” “Yes, sir. But what if you father needs you?” “Tell him I’m in a meeting and won’t be available for a while.” “I’ll try.” Sandra didn’t sound at all confident she could hold off the master of the universe. Neither was Whit, but he didn’t give a damn. It was high time he made his father wait for a change, instead of the other way around. After pushing back from his desk, Whit began to pace the length of the room. No way could he sit still knowing Mallory would be in his office in a matter of minutes. Better still, in his arms. He surveyed the room for a good place to make love. The sofa was damn small and the two club chairs weren’t much better. Of course, that might mean another Mallory lap dance. Nothing wrong with that, except he really wanted to be closer to her today. His desk was fairly large, but he’d have to clear it off. And going at it on a hard oak surface wouldn’t be comfortable for either of them, although it could be managed. The floor had its advantages but the carpet was more industrial grade instead of plush. Hell, standing against the door was starting to look good, especially when Mallory walked through it a few minutes later wearing a conservative black business suit and a tentative smile. She stepped completely inside and pointed behind her. “Sandra said to tell you she put the phone on voice mail and she’s going to lunch.” “Good.” After closing the door behind her, she leaned back against it. “How much time do we have?” “Thirty-three minutes, give or take a few seconds.” She took a couple of steps forward. “Not much time, but enough to get the job done.” The way Whit was feeling now, he’d get the job done in less than five minutes if not careful. Crossing the room, he bypassed Mallory and locked the door then turned to find her clutching her purse against her breasts. He strode to her, snatched the bag and tossed it onto the nearby sofa. Without saying a word, he kissed her the way he’d wanted to from the moment she’d walked into his domain, letting her know exactly how much he wanted her. After he backed her against the single strip of barren wall dividing the floor-to-ceiling windows, Mallory loosened his tie, slipped it over his head then hurled it somewhere behind him. She began tackling his

buttons, inadvertently popping two off the placket and launched them across the room like missiles. When he caught her wrists, she looked up at him with a sheepish smile. “Oops.” “Maybe it’s better if we leave most of our clothes on before we tear them to shreds.” “I’m not going to take your shirt off. I just want it open.” He released his grip and let her undo the remaining buttons, and he was glad he did when she smoothed her hands over his bare chest. Recognizing the benefits of skin against skin, he released the buttons on her jacket to reveal a black camisole and nothing else. He raised the fabric and rubbed his chest against her bare breasts, claiming her mouth for another deep kiss. On the verge of losing control, Whit pulled back and bracketed her face in his palms. “Let’s try the couch.” “What happened to hot sex against the wall?” She glided one hand down his belly. “Or will it be too hard to manage?” He pressed against her, letting her know exactly how hard it was. “I can manage it.” Whit lowered his hands and slipped the button on her slacks with practiced ease, but when he tried to lower the zipper, it wouldn’t budge. He tugged again, without success. “Great,” he muttered. “A fabric chastity belt.” Mallory looked down and said, “Let me try it.” And she did, but the stubborn fly wouldn’t cooperate. “It ’s definitely stuck.” “I can’t get you pregnant this way.” Whit tried to dislodge the zipper again, this time with more force. “Whit, you’re going to break it.” As soon as she said it, he did it, separating the tab from the track, leaving the fly gaping. But at least he’d gotten the thing open. “Sorry.” She looked pretty mad, and damned sexy. “Sorry? Is that all you have to say?” “Hey, you did in my buttons.” “True. Guess that makes us even.” He stroked his knuckles across her belly, back and forth right beneath her navel. “I’ll buy you another pair.” “We need to hurry so I’ll have time to change.” “Some things just can’t be hurried,” he said as he toyed with the thin elastic band at the top of the animal-print underwear. “It’s safari time.” But before he could slide his hand completely inside, Mallory caught his wrist and halted his progress. His frustration filtered out on a groan. “Mallory, this is no time to be changing your mind.” “Didn’t you hear that?” He could only hear his pulse pounding in his ears and Mr. Happy demanding he get on with it. “No, I

didn’t.” “Someone’s at the door.” Frankly, Whit didn’t care. Only a natural disaster or a SWAT team could stop him now. He pulled her hair back and whispered in her ear, “If we’re quiet, they’ll go away. Keep that in mind when you want to scream in a few minutes.” Then suddenly he registered the rattling doorknob and the all too familiar voice calling, “Whit, what are you doing in there?” Dammit to hell. Whit tipped his forehead against Mallory’s and muttered a few more choice oaths. Leave it to Field Manning to interrupt a little afternoon delight.

Eight M allory O’Brien had missed her calling. Considering how quickly she’d dressed, Whit decided she should have been a firefighter. On the other hand, he barely had his pants refastened before his father called, “Whit, open the damn door.” “I’m in a private meeting, Dad. I’ll meet you in your office in ten minutes.” “Who’s in there with you?” He considered lying, but he doubted Field Manning would go away before he could sneak his roommate out. “It’s Mallory.” “What could you and Mallory be discussing that you can’t discuss at home?” Think fast, Manning. “A birthday party. For her mother.” Not too creative, but anything other than the truth would have to suffice. Mallory paused with a tube of lipstick poised at her hand and a forlorn look on her flushed face. Whit shrugged as if to say, It was the best I could do. And where in the hell was his tie? If he could find it, then maybe he could hide the missing buttons. While he continued to search the premises for the last article of discarded clothing, Field knocked again, this time a little harder than necessary. “The Barclays will be here within the hour, Whit. We need to go over the design before they arrive. That means you need to stop whatever it is you’re doing in there.” Whit couldn’t discount the suspicion in his father’s tone. Field Manning meant business, and that meant Whit better get moving in order to save Mallory from more embarrassment. She finger-combed her hair away from her face, concealed the destroyed zipper behind her purse and nodded. But before he answered the summons, sans tie, Whit gave her a quick kiss on her mouth and a look of apology. Whit opened the door to his disgruntled dad, who gave him a good, long once-over. “You two are planning a party?” His tone said he recognized they’d been having a party, one that had ended before it had really gotten started. Maybe not such a bad thing. If they had begun to activate their plan in full swing, Whit wouldn’t have been able to stop. “It’s a surprise party,” Mallory said, then afforded Whit only a quick glance. “I’ll see you at home later. We can address the invitations tonight.”

“Good idea.” Whit wanted—and needed—to address the state she was leaving him in, another fact probably not lost on his father. Mallory sent Field a pleasant yet forced smile. “Mr. Manning, it’s good to see you again. Have a nice day.” “Nice to see you, too, Mallory,” Field said. “We need to have dinner together soon. I’ll have Rebecca call you. And give my regards to your family.” “I will.” Mallory rushed out, leaving Whit alone to face his father’s questions and most likely his father’s wrath, which came immediately when he said, “What’s really going on between you and Mallory?” “I told you. She stopped by to discuss a party.” “You’re lying, son.” He gestured toward the opposite side of the room. “Your tie’s on the floor across the room and your shirt’s wrinkled. You also have a couple of buttons missing.” Whit looked down and faked surprise. “Damn cleaners. They can’t do anything right.” “Cut out the act. Unless you’ve suddenly decided to wear lipstick, my guess is you and Mallory weren’t talking at all.” Whit swiped a hand over his mouth and came back with a nice shade of coral across his knuckles. He felt like a kid who’d gotten caught with his pants down, literally. Denying anything else would be an exercise in futility. “Whatever’s going on between me and Mallory is none of your business.” “It is if you’re fooling around on company time in my building.” Whit shoved his balled fists into his pockets. “Oh, that’s right. This is your building. Your kingdom. You wouldn’t want to sully the hallowed ground.” “It’s not only what you’re doing. It’s who you’re doing it with.” Whit was assaulted by a sudden burst of anger he couldn’t tamp down. “Don’t you even dare to criticize her.” Field maintained his usual calm façade, fueling Whit’s building fury. “I’m not criticizing her at all. Mallory’ s a nice woman. She deserves better.” “Better than me, you mean.” “Better than a quick roll in an office. She deserves to not be hurt. She might expect more than you can give her.” “You just might be surprised about that, Dad.” Time for the truth, regardless of the possible repercussions. “You want to know what’s really going on? Mallory wants a baby, and she asked me to be the father. She picked me.” Field’s expression heralded momentary shock before he regained his composure. “Does her family know about this?” “No one knows. We didn’t plan to tell anyone until she got pregnant. And I expect you to keep this to yourself out of respect for her.”

Field forked a hand through his hair and sighed. “You’ve both weighed this carefully?” “We didn’t rush into it, if that’s what you’re intimating.” Only a partial truth. “Mallory has some physical problems and it could take a while. We’ve discussed it at length and we agreed this is something we both want.” “A baby without a commitment? Why would you want that at all? And are you sure that’s what Mallory wants, or is she just telling you what she thinks you want to hear because she knows your history with women?” Whit crossed the room and yanked his tie from the floor, then spun on his father. “I don’t know why in the hell I bothered to tell you any of this. You wouldn’t understand what’s it like when a woman wants a baby as badly as Mallory does.” Field wore his practiced stoic expression well. For once Whit wished he would look pissed off. “You’re right. I haven’t intimately known a woman who wanted a baby that badly. But I have known one who didn’t even though she told me she did.” “Who?” “Your mother.” For Whit, those two words were body blows. “You’re saying my mother never wanted me?” Field’s composure seemed to slip a notch, bringing Whit little satisfaction, especially when he checked his watch and smoothed a hand down his jacket lapels. “We don’t have time to get into this now. We have twenty minutes before our meeting.” Whit opened and closed his fists at his sides. “To hell with the meeting. You opened this can of worms. Let’s deal with it.” “Can you handle it?” Whit wasn’t sure he could, but he had to know. “Yeah, I can handle it. It’s way past time for you to tell me all those dirty details you’ve always claimed you saved me from.” Field crossed to the desk and pulled back a chair. “Sit down.” “Fine.” Whit took his office chair opposite his father and folded his hands in front of him. “I’m ready.” Field leaned back and studied the ceiling for a moment before turning his gaze on Whit. “Before we married, your mother told me she didn’t want any kids. I pushed her until she agreed to get pregnant. When she had you, she did the best that she could. But her heart wasn’t in it. She wanted her career more than she wanted a family.” Whit took a moment to digest that revelation, the knowledge burning a hole in his gut. “Why didn’t she explain that to me?” “She didn’t want you to blame yourself.” “Then why didn’t you tell me?” “Because I didn’t want you to think less of her because of my mistake. If I hadn’t been so obstinate and insistent we have children, then you wouldn’t have suffered her leaving you.”

“And I wouldn’t be here, would I?” “No, you wouldn’t.” As an adult, Whit had realized that his mother had been less than maternal even if she’d never been cruel. But as a kid, he’d only wanted to fix it, and that hadn’t been possible. “I understand a lot now. Probably more than I care to understand.” Field sighed again, a long, weary one. “I wanted to work it out, but she asked for a divorce, and I had to let her go.” All those years, Whit had believed it to be the other way around. All those years, he’d mistakenly blamed his dad. He still resented his father’s subterfuge, yet on some level he understood it even though it was a bitter pill to swallow. “You should have told me sooner.” “I know.” Field rubbed both hands over his face. “And you should know that I never stopped loving your mother, but I couldn’t make her happy.” And neither had Whit. Because of that, she’d taken away his opportunity to have a mother, something he would always resent even though he’d never really admitted it to himself until now. In fact, he’d tried not to deal with it at all. Now he would have to deal with it and come to terms with the facts—his mother had run away, leaving her son and husband behind because she’d wanted neither. A heavy silence hung over the room before Field spoke again. “So now you see, I do understand why Mallory wants a baby. But I also want you to understand what that entails. What will happen to your relationship if you’re not successful?” “I don’t know.” And Whit didn’t. He only knew he had to try to give her that baby. “Do you two plan to get married?” Field asked. “In this day and time, that’s not necessary. We’ve agreed to raise the child together and remain friends.” “Friends? Is that all she is, your friend?” The best friend he’d ever had. “Yeah. We have a great relationship. I go home to her every night and we talk about our day, or we don’t talk at all. We enjoy each other’s company. She knows me better than anyone, and I know her, too. And this might come as a surprise, but I haven’t been involved with anyone since she moved in with me. Right now, I don’t really want to be with anyone else. I want to give her this baby, and I want that more than anything I’ve wanted in a long time.” He also wanted her more than any woman in his past. Field smiled. “Did you hear what you just said?” Whit frowned. “Yeah. I said Mallory and I will still be friends when this over.” “You all but said you’re in love with her.” Whit swallowed hard. “I didn’t say that.” “You didn’t have to say it directly, but your message came through loud and clear.” Field leaned forward and sent Whit a look of understanding. “I know you, too, son. You like women. You like being with women. Or maybe I should say you like sleeping with women. You just told me that Mallory means more to you than sex. Probably more to you than you realize.”

Whit pondered that for a few moments before he shut down those thoughts. “Believe what you will, but all I know is that I plan to be a father, which will make you a grandfather if we’re successful. You might want to get used to that idea.” “And you might want to get used to the idea that you might have found the right woman for you. I think you’re going to have trouble if you don’t come to terms with it. Otherwise she might get away, and you’ll live to regret that the rest of your life.” Whit refused to think about that right now. Refused to believe that his dad might be right—he could be falling for Mallory. Hell, he might have already fallen. Now he was tempted to book a ticket on a plane bound for the Bahamas for a little weekend R & R, give himself time alone to think about this whole situation. Or avoid thinking about it at all. Mallory’s accusation came back to him then. This is so typical…The way you’re always running away. Maybe he was running from his feelings, but he couldn’t run away from her. Not this time. If she did become pregnant, he would stick around. Funny thing was, he really wanted to stick around, not only for his child but for Mallory, too. Aside from his usual morning jog, Whit Manning’s running days could very well be coming to an end.

Mallory feared that Whit had definitely caught hell from his father. Because he hadn’t called, she had no idea what had transpired after her departure from his office. Had nary a clue what Field had said to Whit, although she predicted it hadn’t been good. She was also beginning to believe she wasn’t cut out for spontaneous sex, at least not without the inevitability of discovery, either by park rangers, protective brothers or prying fathers. Since she’d come home, Mallory had hidden away in her bedroom, waiting and worrying over the outcome—when she hadn’t been devouring three separate online articles involving sex tips told from a man’s point of view. She now knew enough about male anatomy, talking dirty and preferred positions to fill one of her massive volumes of legal case studies. Obviously she was becoming obsessed with the act. More accurately, obsessed with being the kind of lover that would bring Whit Manning to his knees. She planned to try out a little of what she’d learned, if not tonight, then at some point in time. Provided Whit was still speaking to her. A few moments later, she heard the front door open, announcing Whit’s arrival and sending her heart on a mad dash against her chest. She bolted off her bed and, with her ear to the door, listened to his footsteps as he scaled the stairs and then traveled down the hall. After his bedroom door opened then closed, she opted to leave her haven for the den and hurried downstairs. Mallory collapsed onto the sofa, stretched out lengthwise on the cushions, hugged a throw pillow in her arms and made a vow. From this point forward, or at least for the next few days, she would make love with Whit in the privacy of their shared apartment. Unless he was beginning to reconsider the pregnancy plan. Bearing in mind what she’d put him through, she really couldn’t blame him. Twenty minutes later, she realized she would know his mood soon enough when he walked into the room. Where she had dressed in a slinky slip of a black gown, hoping to provide a little encouragement, he wore a plain white T-shirt, loose navy-blue cotton pajama bottoms and an unreadable expression, leading Mallory to believe he didn’t have lovin’ on his mind. That thought disappointed her more than a

thousand untimely interruptions. Whit strolled to the sofa and stood above her, visually tracking the length of her body. After seeing a definite spark of heat in his eyes, Mallory clung to hope that he might want to take up where they’d left off—clung to that hope as tightly as she clung to the throw pillow in her arms. When he didn’t move, Mallory decided to take the conversation lead. “Well?” He lifted her legs, turned and sat down on the sofa, then draped them across his solid thighs, his hands resting casually above her knees. “Well what?” “I cannot believe you.” She tossed the pillow at him and he grabbed it midair then positioned it behind his neck before returning his palms to her legs, this time a little higher up her thighs. “What did your father say after he nearly caught us engaged in some serious hanky-panky?” “He told me he knew what we’d been doing. It didn’t help that I was wearing your lipstick and I had two buttons missing on my shirt.” “And after that?” “I told him about the baby.” Oh, heavens. “You don’t think he’ll tell anyone, do you?” “No. I made it clear we didn’t want anyone to know until you’re pregnant. Then after that, he went into his usual lecture. He told me I’m not playing nice with you. You deserve better, etcetera, etcetera.” “He’s wrong.” She took his left hand into hers and rested it above her breasts. “He has no idea how nice you’ve been. Very nice.” He gave her a look that could set the loft on fire. “And you have no idea what I want to do with you right now.” She could imagine it, in vivid detail. “What would that be?” He pinned her in place with the methodical movement of one fingertip across the rise of her breast. “Let me tell you how my day’s gone, O’Brien. I’ve been sitting all afternoon in a meeting, barely able to concentrate, careful to stay shoved beneath a conference room table because I was sporting some serious wood. And I don’t mean the two-by-fours you’ll find at a construction site. On my way here, I nearly ran two lights, almost hit a pedestrian and barely avoided taking out a couple of street signs so I could get home in order to finish what we started. Does that answer your question?” “Yes, it does. I totally understand.” And she did. Her thoughts had been wild and reckless, even if her driving had not. But something in Whit’s demeanor said he was holding something back. She wasn’t going to allow that, if she could get him to talk. “Okay, Manning, ‘fess up. You’re leaving something out.” “I think that about covers it, unless you count my snapping at one of my design team guys who promptly told me I needed to get laid.” When Whit lowered his hand to her breast, Mallory tugged it away and held it against her midriff. “I’m not referring to sex. I meant you’re not telling me everything your dad said to you.” “I don’t want to talk about that. I don’t want to talk, period.” “I’m not going to give up so we might as well get into it now.”

He leaned down and rimmed her ear with his tongue. “I’d rather get into your pants.” Little did he know, she wasn’t wearing any. And he wouldn’t know until he came clean. “You can do that as soon as you tell me exactly what happened with your dad. All the details.” Following a rough sigh, Whit straightened, laced both his hands behind his neck and stared at the ceiling. “He told me things I didn’t know about my mom.” Exactly as Mallory had suspected, something serious was bothering him. “Such as?” “Such as she never wanted kids, ever. She divorced my dad, he didn’t divorce her. And, basically, because she didn’t embrace motherhood. That’s why she took off like she did.” He dropped his arms and clasped his hands tightly in his lap. “And I guess why I haven’t heard from her on a regular basis in years.” Mallory’s heart went out to him as it always had when he mentioned his absent mother. Lowering her legs from his lap, she sat up and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I can’t imagine anyone not wanting a child, but then some people just aren’t suited for parenthood. And I certainly can’t fathom why your mother wouldn’t want you.” “Well, she didn’t, and that’s something I’ve already learned to live with.” He laid a hand on her thigh. “But you’re different, Mallory. You deserve to be a mother.” And Whit deserved to make peace with himself and his dad. “Now that you know the truth, does this change your opinion of your father?” “In a way, I guess it does. I don’t agree with some of what he’s done, but I understand him better. I also realize he always wanted me, even if my mother didn’t.” He looked at her straight on. “He also said he never really stopped loving her. His second marriage was a rebound, but he’s happy now with Rebecca.” She could tell by Whit’s solemn expression that he’d been through the emotional wringer. “I’m glad. It sounds like he deserves some happiness.” “Yeah, I guess he does. And you know what else I realized?” “What?” “That I want to do better with our child. I want to avoid the mistakes both my parents made. We can do that together.” “Yes, we can.” If they were lucky enough to have that child. At times like these, Mallory certainly felt lucky to have Whit as the prospective father. As her friend and her lover. He patted her leg. “And considering your parents don’t know the meaning of dysfunction, we can use them as prototypes.” “My parents have had their share of problems, especially with—” “Kevin,” Whit said. “Yeah, but five out of six ain’t bad. I figure there’s one in every crowd.” Mallory laughed. “You’re right. Unfortunately, I thought meeting Corri would change Kevin.” Whit wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer. “You know something? I’ve decided you can’t rely on anyone to change you. It has to come from within yourself. Although I have to admit you’ve changed me.”

Mallory held her breath, hoping for something although she wasn’t sure quite what. A declaration that she meant more to him than as a friend? A vow of undying love? Neither would be in character for Whit. Neither would be logical. “How have I changed you?” “I’ve actually acquired a taste for seafood.” Although that wasn’t even close to what she wanted to hear, Mallory kissed his cheek. “Glad to oblige.” She looked at him for a long moment, noting the weariness in his eyes. “Since you’ve had a rough day, I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to go on to bed.” “I do want to go to bed. With you.” She laid a dramatic hand on her breasts and feigned shock. “You’re willing to forego the stand-up sex? That could mean no boy for you.” “Right now I don’t care if we give birth to a reptile.” He rubbed his shadowed chin. “Come to think of it, I don’t think we’ll have that problem with our combined gene pools. However, I’m going to nix the stand-up sex, for now…” Once again he leaned close to her ear. “Because when I get through with you, you won’t be able to stand.” A heavy-duty succession of chills ran the length of her body. “Oh, my.” “Oh, yeah.” He traced a circle around her nipple through the satin forming to her breasts. “I can tell that thought excites you.” More than Mallory could say, so she opted not to say anything. He stood, took her hands and pulled her up from the sofa into his arms. “What are you wearing tonight underneath that killer gown? More animal print?” “Try nothing.” He breezed soft kisses along her jaw and palmed her bare bottom beneath the gown. “I like nothing, in terms of your underwear, that is.” He pulled back and nailed her with another suggestive look. “Into the bedroom. Now.” As silly as it seemed, Mallory still had bed phobia. She assumed she would eventually get over it but decided to deal with it after one more session of lovemaking. Maybe then she would be more confident. “I have a better idea.” Taking his hands, she guided him to the middle of the room and her favorite funky red rug. “Let’s do it here.” Whit looked down, then back up to meet her gaze. “What is your fascination with that thing?” She lowered to her knees then encouraged him to join her, which he did without much reluctance. “It’s soft and furry. Kind of like having a favorite pet in the house.” He frowned. “It’s kind of like having roadkill in the den.” “It is not.” She stretched out on her side and ran her hand over the rug’s surface. “It’s perfect.” “You’re perfect.” He rolled onto his side to face her, kissed her cheek, then her chin and the tip of her nose, which Mallory had always considered too pert for her face. “Perfect everywhere.” Whit’s touch was perfection in every sense of the word as he lowered the straps on the gown, baring her breasts to his hands, then to his mouth. Mallory formed her palms to his head, her insides coiling tighter

and tighter with every caress of his lips, every flick of his tongue on her nipple. Unlike their harried attempts at lovemaking in the office, this prelude was slow and deliberate, deadly to Mallory’s senses. Never before had she been treated with such care. Never before had she wanted to let go so completely and allow a man to take her wherever he desired. But this was Whit showing the way. And only Whit had been able to break down her resistance, body, soul and heart. As much as that total lack of control scared her she didn’t want to fight it, at least not tonight. With one last kiss on her breasts, then her mouth, he stood, much to Mallory’s dismay. “Where are you going?” she asked. “To make sure the door is dead-bolted. If anyone knocks, the lights might be on, but nobody’s home as far as I’m concerned.” Mallory grabbed two pillows from the sofa, propped one beneath her head and covered her bare breasts with the other. “Maybe we should turn out the lights.” He whipped the T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. “Not a chance. I want to see you in the light. Every part of you. You barely gave me the opportunity in the shower last night, so now it’s payback time.” Admittedly, that made Mallory a little nervous but not enough to protest, especially when Whit returned from the door, snaked out of his pajamas, balled them up and pitched them across the room for a perfect landing on the top of the widescreen TV. He wore nothing except a sultry smile and a look that said he meant business. She allowed her gaze to take a trek down his belly, following the thin strip of hair below his navel. For some odd reason, be it nerves or a sojourn into insanity, Mallory remembered a song from her childhood about being happy and knowing it and clapping hands. Mr. Happy deserved a standing ovation. On that thought, a giggle edged up her throat and came out in a burst of laughter. Whit looked down, then up again and scowled. “You know, O’Brien, a lesser man would wither if a woman laughed at him.” He was anything but a lesser man because he certainly didn’t wither. Far from it. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. It’s just I thought about this silly song.” When Whit failed to look amused, she said, “Never mind. I promise I’m not going to laugh anymore.” “You’ve got that right,” he said as he joined her, this time on his knees, and pulled the pillow from her clutches. “And now you are going to pay for insulting Mr. Happy.” He grinned. “In a real nice way.” She shifted against the building pressure between her thighs, amazed that he could generate so much heat and dampness there with only a provocative promise. That reaction intensified when he grasped the bodice now resting below her breasts and lowered it slowly then laid the gown at her feet. She wondered what he had in mind for a payback and would have asked if he hadn’t begun to show her, first by drawing a line with his tongue down the center of her midriff, pausing at her navel. He raised his head and studied her with his lethal brown eyes. “Did Larry ever do this to you?” She didn’t bother to correct her ex’s name, and she didn’t bother to ask what Whit had meant. She already knew. “No. Never even tried.” He moved between her legs and traced the inside of one thigh with his lips, then the other before regarding her again. “Did the office guy try?” “Not hardly.” Her voice was too shrill, her legs too shaky.

“I want to do it,” he said, his deep voice smooth as silk skimming over her skin. She wanted him to do it, would die if he didn’t despite her initial urge to object. She wasn’t exactly afraid of Whit. She was afraid she might not be able to bear it. Only one way to find out. “Then do it.” Even those few words took a world of effort. “Good. I’m glad I’m going to be the first one to give this to you.” He bent her knees, allowing him prime exposure to his intended goal. Mallory only felt slightly self-conscious and a whole lot hot. “You’re going to enjoy it, Mallory. More than you’ve ever enjoyed anything before.” Proof of that came when Whit settled between her thighs, using his mouth to full advantage. She nearly came off the floor when he hit the mark with his tongue and tormented her some more with the steady pull of his lips. But the torment was so welcome, so undeniably gratifying that Mallory really did question whether she would be able to endure this much pleasure. She had no more will to ponder anything other than the incredible sensations. Yet when she was nearing the point of total combustion, he took all his sweet torment away. Mallory wanted to shout No! but instead groaned her disapproval. She couldn’t help it. He moved behind her and turned her to her side, away from him. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m not done with you yet.” When Whit fitted himself against her back, Mallory glanced over her shoulder, confused and a little wary. “What exactly are we doing now?” He pushed her hair from her ear and kissed her lobe. “Nothing kinky. I just thought that since you told me you’ve never had an orgasm during lovemaking before, we’d take care of that tonight. This is a good way to give you the full effect.” “Is this position on the list?” Really dumb, Mallory. Really, really dumb. “Not that I recall, but I don’t think you’re going to care.” When he rested his leg over her hip then slid inside her, she didn’t care if he stood her on her head. Didn’t care if they had a boy or a girl. Didn’t care about anything except his fingertips fondling her breast and his other hand seeking and searching and caressing the place where his mouth had been only minutes before. He kept a steady rhythm, moving inside her as he plied her with pleasurable caresses. She hated that she couldn’t see his face, look into his eyes. But she didn’t hate his skill at all, or his stamina. The tension began to mount, the lovely pressure began to build, intense and forceful until an explosive climax ripped through her. The extent of her gratification came out in a long almost mournful moan and she didn’t try to stop it. She wanted him to know how wonderful he’d made her feel. “I know, babe,” he said, his warm breath flowing over her ear. “It feels good. And I can’t begin to tell you how good it feels to be inside you to feel it too.” She reached back and molded her hand to his bottom in order to experience his muscles working with every thrust of his body. His respiration increased and his frame grew taut, letting Mallory know he wasn’ t far from his own climax. Then she remembered something else she had read about, a specific erogenous zone on a man’s body. A hot spot. She wasn’t certain she would have the courage to attempt it. But this was Whit, the accomplished lover, and she wanted him to experience the ultimate pleasure that he had given her. Provided it worked. Determined to try, she slid her palm over his hip and then curled her hand on the inside of his thigh near

his buttock, traveling higher between his legs and pressed lightly on the place that reportedly would drive him wild. Whit violently shuddered and he released a feral groan as his arms tightened around her. She could hear the raspy sound of his breathing, could feel the dampness where his chest met her back. He continued to shake uncontrollably for a few more minutes and, for a split second, she worried that she’d somehow injured him. If so, he’d probably never want her to touch him, much less make love with him again. But her worries were put to rest when he said, “Damn, that was incredible. Where did you learn about that?” Knowledge was power, and Mallory loved the power she held over him at the moment. She looked back at him and smiled. “Would you believe a lucky guess?” He frowned. “Hell, no.” “Okay, it was something I read about. Did I do it right?” His fingertips idled on her breasts as he rested his cheek against her cheek. “Oh, yeah. You could say that.” He showed his appreciation by tipping her head toward him and giving her a deep kiss before saying, “No woman has ever done that to me before.” Mallory could not have been more pleased. She pulled his arms tighter around her. “Good. I’m glad I was the first one to give that to you.” “So am I, Mallory.” He held her then, silent, occasionally brushing a palm over her hip and a kiss on her neck. Mallory cherished these moments, reveled in them, took them to memory. As great as their lovemaking had been, this was the ultimate as far as she was concerned, having Whit holding her close. Having Whit so intimately united with her. Having Whit, period. She wanted to tell him how much she appreciated his willingness to father her baby. She even considered telling him about the baby she’d lost. But this was a time to cherish, and by dredging up sorrowful memories she would destroy the wonderful mood of the moment. After a time, he slipped from her body and turned her into his arms, framing her face in his palm as he studied her eyes. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you again that you’re a lousy lover, Mallory. You’re the best I’ve ever had.” A high compliment coming from a man like Whit, but Mallory dwelled on the fact that he intimated she would have another lover. Problem was, she didn’t want another lover. She wanted him. Only him. But she couldn’t have him, at least not in that way. Yes, they might conceive a child. And yes, they would raise that child together. But they could never be together in the way that Mallory was beginning to want him—permanently. Acknowledging those feelings gave her the strong urge to borrow one of Whit’s favorite tricks—running away. But she couldn’t run, not if she wanted to have a baby, and she still did. She would just have to accept that what they had shared, what they would share, would only exist for the sake of having a child. Right now, Mallory did have to get away from him. The emotional tug of war was getting to her. She still had a job to do tomorrow, and, in order to do it, she needed sleep. She had a heart she needed to keep intact as well. Wresting from his arms, she sat up, gathered her gown and pulled it over her head, then came to her feet.

“Where are you going?” he asked. “If it’s the kitchen, I could use a midnight snack. Just a little something to keep up my energy level.” He topped off that comment with a seductive look. “I’m going to my room and going to bed.” “That sounds like a great idea.” He stood and without even attempting to dress, took her back into his arms. “I’ve always wanted to try out your bed.” She needed to push him away, but she didn’t have the will. “I’m going to bed alone, Whit. If I don’t, you and I know what will happen. That’s not a good idea since we both have to be up early.” He planted a kiss on the corner of her mouth and pressed against her, coming very close to dissolving her resistance. “I guarantee I’ll be up early. That’s why I want to be in your bed.” She stepped out of his arms and stretched. “Not tonight. I still have some work to do before I call it quits for the evening.” Walking to the TV, he retrieved his pajamas and slipped them back on before returning to her. “Mallory, I don’t understand why the hell you keep avoiding the bed.” “I’m not avoiding the bed.” Yes, she was, but not for her original reasons. She had more confidence as a lover, but she was less assured that she wouldn’t fall even deeper under his spell if she allowed that much intimacy. “I would just prefer to go to bed alone. Okay?” He streaked a hand over his neck. “Fine. No means no. I’ll see you in the morning.” He started away but, when he reached the staircase, turned to her again. “I want more of this, Mallory. A lot more. Understand?” But Whit didn’t want more from her than sex and a baby. He never would. She would make love with him a little longer, then prepare to eventually walk away when the time came, hopefully with a baby, all that he could give her, provided he could even give her that. Chilled to the bone, she hugged her arms to her breasts. “I plan to continue our lovemaking.” She sounded like the lawyer, cool, calm and professional. Inside she was anything but calm. “Good.” “At least for a couple of days,” she added. “Until I’m no longer ovulating.” “We’ll see about that.” Then he sprinted up the stairs, taking all of his cocky assurance with him. Mallory recognized once more that knowledge was power, but sometimes it left a person totally powerless. She felt as if she were traveling a hundred miles an hour down the interstate, speeding toward falling in love with Whit Manning. And she wasn’t sure she could locate the brakes.

Nine “M rs. McMillan’s here to see you.” Confused, Mallory glanced up to see Roz standing in her office door. “I thought she was still out of town.” Roz closed the door behind her. “Seems she got word of her husband’s intent to pursue custody, so she

came back from her trip early.” What a wonderful way to start a Monday morning, but at least she’d had one wild, wonderful weekend. Mallory glanced at the clock suspended on the wall across the room. “Can you have her come back? I have to be in court for the Wilkinsons’ divorce in thirty minutes.” “That’s been postponed. I just got the call. According to his attorney, they’re considering reconciling.” “Really? The last time they were in the same room together, I thought they might come to blows.” “My guess is that they went home and duked it out in bed.” Why was everyone so obsessed with sex? Like Mallory had room to talk. For a good part of the night, she’d been obsessing about it. A good part of the morning, too. Needless to say, Whit had kept her thoughts and body churning. But she didn’t have time to consider that now. Mallory might be determined to make a child, but Anna McMillan was trying to keep her child, a much more pressing issue at the moment. “Go ahead and send her in.” “Will do. She has the baby with her.” Mallory could understand why Anna McMillan wouldn’t want to part with her child, even for a minute. Anna loved her little boy, and that was very apparent when she walked into the office, the sandy-haired toddler sleeping soundly on her shoulder. Mallory gestured toward the sofa for her client to be seated. Once Anna had settled in, the baby’s head resting in her lap, Mallory pulled up a chair and smiled. “He’s a beautiful little boy.” Anna smoothed a trembling hand over the boy’s head. “He’s the most important thing in the world to me. That’s why I’m here.” Mallory slid her reading glasses to the top of her head and folded her hands atop her desk. “Roz tells me you’ve learned about your husband’s intentions.” “Yes. He called me and told me himself, and it’s ridiculous. He hasn’t bonded with Robbie at all. I don’t think he’s ever changed a diaper. I don’t understand why he’s doing this.” She swiped a hand across her cheek, now dampened by tears. “I take that back, I do know why. He’s making me pay for divorcing him.” “That very well could be the case,” Mallory said. “The good news is, most judges still rule in favor of the mother, unless there is some cause to believe that a mother is unfit.” “Richard will say I am. He’ll use the circumstances behind our initial meeting to try and prove that.” Mallory’s concerns increased. “What do you mean?” She shifted slightly. “I was working in a cabaret club, waiting tables while I was in college. I didn’t take off my clothes or anything like that, just served drinks to the patrons. Richard was a regular there and one night he struck up a conversation. We started dating after that and I quit about three weeks later, at his request. By that time, we were already talking about getting married.” Under normal circumstances, Mallory wouldn’t be too concerned about this aspect of a client’s past. But Richard McMillan had money and a vendetta. “Is there anything else you can think of that he might try to use against you?”

“No, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he fabricated something.” Neither would Mallory. “Is there anything we can use against him? Maybe another woman?” “At first I didn’t think so. He used to come home early in the evening and he called me every day from work, sometimes four or five times a day. I had to let him know where I was at all times. But then I sometimes wondered if maybe he wanted to keep track of my whereabouts so I didn’t catch him with someone else. After I became pregnant with Robbie, he never touched me. If he was having sex, it wasn’ t with me.” Mallory suspected Anna’s conjecture could be correct. “And he didn’t want you to get pregnant, correct?” The little boy stirred and Anna patted his back. “At first, he told me it was okay even though he wasn’t all that enthusiastic. After I found out I was pregnant, he said he never wanted a baby in the first place.” Mallory was suddenly reminded of Whit’s mother. “I’m going to fight this, Anna. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you have custody of Robbie. In fact, I would like to hire a private investigator.” “If you think that’s going to help.” Anna stared off into space for a moment before she spoke again. “You know, Richard wasn’t always like this. When we met, he was charming and funny and sexy. I knew he was a little controlling, but I had no idea how bad it would be. I guess sometimes you don’t know someone as well as you think you do. And if I’d known how he would react to the baby, then I would never have…” Her words trailed off as she again looked lovingly upon her child. “I take that back. I don’ t regret having Robbie. He’s all I have now. That’s why I can’t lose him.” Mallory’s heart went out to the young mother as she felt her pain as acutely as if it were her own. Despite her own failed marriage to Jerry, if she hadn’t lost the baby she would still have welcomed it in her life. “I ’m going to work hard to make sure that doesn’t happen. In the meantime, call me if you think of anything else we might be able to use against him. I’d like to have some extra insurance when dealing with a man like your husband.” “A wealthy man,” Anna said. “Richard is all about money. If I thought that by agreeing to let him have his money he’d back off, then I’d do it.” “You shouldn’t have to do that. You’ve lived with him for ten years and you deserve what’s coming to you in accordance with the prenuptial agreement. Have you found a job yet?” She shrugged. “The job market is terrible and I don’t have any real skills or a degree since I quit college. But I’ll wait tables again if have to.” “Hopefully something will turn up soon.” Before the trial, Mallory wanted to say, yet decided that was best left unsaid at the moment. “We’ll also ask for child support as well as payment of your legal fees.” Anna came to her feet and again shifted the baby to her shoulder. “I just want my child, Ms. O’Brien. That’s all I want.” Mallory walked Anna to the front door, gave her more assurances and then returned to her office with a heavy heart. She had a bad feeling about this case even though under normal circumstances Anna would stand an excellent chance of keeping her son. Yet so much depended on several factors, particularly the judge charged with deciding Robbie’s fate. Several were conservative and still believed a mother belonged with a child. But a few believed strongly in a father’s rights, too. And Anna’s unemployment as

well as her past could come into play. Mallory would definitely need to be prepared for all instances. Aside from the divorce itself, several things Anna had said played out in Mallory’s mind, creating concerns on a very personal level. When we met, he was charming and funny and sexy…. He told me it was okay even though he wasn’t all that enthusiastic. After I found out I was pregnant, he said he never wanted a baby in the first place. Ridiculous that she would compare Richard McMillan to Whit. Besides, she wasn’t married to Whit so divorce wasn’t an issue. And as far as custody went, deep down she knew Whit would never try to take their baby away. They would remain friends to the end. That much she knew. Or at least she hoped she knew. I guess sometimes you don’t know someone as well as you think you do…. That had been all too true with Jerry, and she couldn’t make the same mistake again with Whit. Time to reconsider, before she ended up neck-deep in emotional quicksand.

After tossing his keys onto the dash of the truck, Whit grabbed his to-go cup of coffee, left the truck and strode up the walk to his pet project. The roof, windows and brick had been added, the insulation and drywall completed, plumbing and electricity roughed out. Painting was in process, inside and out, and it was only a matter of time before the finishing touches would begin. Yeah, it was definitely a house now, he thought as he stepped inside the towering foyer. And today it provided the perfect place to escape. Taking a seat on the raised rock hearth in the den, Whit sipped at his coffee and recalled the past few days. The whole conception plan had unleashed something wild between him and Mallory. They couldn’t seem to get enough of each other. On Friday evening, Mallory had met him at the door as soon as he’d arrived home from work. They’d never made it past the foyer before they were undressing each other, culminating in mind-blowing lovemaking on the sofa with some of their clothes still intact. On Saturday night, they’d taken a 2:00 a.m. swim in the deserted rooftop pool, but water play had turned into foreplay and he’d discovered that Mallory had an incredible mouth, and she knew how to use it. That had turned into discarded swimsuits and utilizing the towel-covered pool deck for another hot session. And on Sunday, Whit had looked up from the paper to see Mallory coming down the stairs wearing only a shirt—his shirt—and he’d decided then and there he would carry her to bed and make love to her, a place they had yet to explore. But they’d ended up tangled together on the first landing. He still sported a few bruises on his back and even a few scratches from Mallory’s nails, but every wound had been well worth it. So had the moments following their lovemaking when they’d held each other, talking about their upcoming week, debating Bruno vs. Betsy or not talking at all. Then, on Monday, the lovemaking between them had stopped completely. Granted, they’d both been busy with work, but he couldn’t deny he still wanted her with every breath he drew. Yet he hadn’t pressed the issue even though for the past few nights, he’d considered crawling into her bed and making love to her all night. But not only had she claimed she was no longer ovulating, therefore lovemaking was no longer necessary, she’d begun to keep him at a distance, erecting an emotional wall as solid as the one Whit had designed for the house. As solid as the one he’d built around his own emotions. And he didn’t know what to do about it at all. As much as he hated not touching her, he hated their sudden lack of

communication even more. But instead of dealing with it, he’d spent the past few days at the house, pouring his frustration into hammering nails into the outdoor deck, and nights at the office in preparation for a trip to Boston tomorrow. Five days of schmoozing in order to firm up a deal for a multi-million-dollar project, and that meant more time away from Mallory, something he hated more than business politics. But at least he would have time to decide how he was going to handle the situation at home. He had a lot to do and limited time to do it. As soon as he returned from his trip, he planned to bring Mallory here and unveil the surprise. He also planned to tell his dad about his strategy for the future, even if his future with Mallory still seemed up in the air. One thing did he did know, he valued her friendship, but he didn’t think he could be only her friend. And even though that terrified the hell out of him, it was high time to face it. And he would, beginning tonight.

“Where have you been for the past few nights?” Whit tossed his keys on the coffee table, dropped his bag on the floor and collapsed onto the sofa across from the chair where Mallory was seated. “I told you. Preparing for the big project in Boston.” She eyed him suspiciously. “You’re not wearing your normal work clothes.” “I changed after normal business hours so I’d be more comfortable.” “I see.” From her tone, Whit wasn’t sure she did see. “What’s going on, O’Brien?” She turned her attention back to some kind of brief she was reading. “Nothing. Sorry I asked. What you do at night is none of my business.” Up came the wall again. Whit was determined to break it down. “I’ve been at work, Mallory. Trying to earn a living. If you think I’ve been anywhere else, you’re dead wrong. You know me better than that.” “Do I?” She pulled off her glasses and gripped them in her hand. “Look, Whit, I still realize we both agreed that we’re only trying to have a baby. If you want to date other women, that’s okay. I understand. I don’t want you to change your routine for me. I just wish you’d be honest about it, though.” Whit bolted out of the chair from the force of his anger. “My routine? Have you seen me going out since we started this? Or going out since you’ve been living here, for that matter?” “No, but I don’t want you to feel you have to stop your life because of me.” She put her glasses back into place and thumbed through the documents. “I did some laundry. The basket’s on the bed. You probably need to start packing since you have an early flight.” Whit didn’t care about the damn flight. He didn’t care for her attitude either. He rose and strode to the sofa to stand before her. He wanted to convince her that he didn’t want anyone else. He wanted her undivided attention. He wanted her. God, did he want her. “I can pack later. Right now I can think of something else I’d rather be doing with you. I want to make love to you, this time in a bed.” She didn’t bother to look at him. “I’d rather finish my work so I don’t fall asleep tomorrow morning

during my deposition. Besides, that won’t be necessary until next month, provided I’m not pregnant.” “Necessary?” She sounded like she was addressing a client, not a lover. “You’re lying, O’Brien. To me and to yourself.” That got her attention. “Lying about what?” Whit braced his palms on the arms of the chair and leaned toward her. “You want me as much as I want you. You want it so bad you can taste it. It doesn’t have anything to do with making a baby. What’s going on between us has gone beyond that. You know it when I’m holding you, and when I’m inside of you. And it’s scaring the hell out of you, isn’t it?” “I’m not scared of you, Whit, and I’m not one of your goodtime girls. I’m not going to just stop what I’m doing to have sex with you just because you know how to say and do all the right things. Sex isn’t everything.” He couldn’t get a handle on her mood, but he knew when to play his hand and when to fold. Time to fold and to get away. Pushing back from the chair, he said, “You’re right. Sex isn’t everything. I learned that a long time ago.” Snatching his keys from the table, he strode to the door, propelled by an old habit of his that wasn’t ready to die. “Where are you going?” Mallory called. Without turning around, he said, “Out,” then slammed the door behind him. He took the stairs two at a time and shoved out of the exit onto the deserted street. He walked the block at a fast pace, his mind whirling with concerns and a few regrets. He shouldn’t have walked out on her like that, but he was plagued by exhaustion and some fairly serious emotional overload. He needed some time to think, not only tonight, but while he was away for the next few days. When he reached the corner of the block, Whit pushed through the doors at the late-night bar, one of his favorite watering holes and a good place to regroup. The crowd was minimal for a Friday night in Houston, mostly couples filling the round, wooden tables. Beyond that, Whit didn’t pay much mind to the patrons. Right now he just wanted to be left alone to have a beer. Taking a seat on a stool, he slapped his palm on the bar and said, “Give me my usual, Cal.” The bartender and owner of the establishment turned from the TV and smiled. “Where’ve you been lately, Whit? I thought maybe you’d moved out of the neighborhood.” “Nope. I’ve been busy.” Busy making love with his roommate in order to make a baby. Busy falling for his roommate in the process. Cal grabbed a mug and filled it full of Whit’s favorite brew and then slid it in front of him. “First one’s on the house.” “Thanks.” Whit took a long draw then tried to focus on the news, but he couldn’t begin to concentrate. After a few minutes had passed, Cal set another beer in front of Whit. “I’m not even halfway through with this one,” he told the bartender. Cal grinned. “Compliments of the ladies in the corner.”

Whit glanced behind him to see two women seated near the window, one knockout blonde, one voluptuous brunette. They rolled their fingers into a wave and laughed. Whit nodded his thanks then went back to staring at the TV. “You’re not going to join them?” Cal asked, his tone full of surprise. At another time, in another place in his life, Whit probably would consider it. But not now. Not tonight. Mallory was right, sex wasn’t everything, especially if you weren’t making love with someone you truly cared about. “Nope. I’m gonna sit here and drink my beer.” Cal leaned his elbows on the bar and studied Whit. “Are you sick?” In a way he was. Lovesick, an illness he’d successfully avoided until now. “Just not in the mood.” “Then you must have come down with some kind of disease.” Cal inclined his head and narrowed his eyes. “You know, you look like you’ve lost your best girl.” And that was Whit’s problem in a nutshell. He feared that if something didn’t give, he just might lose Mallory.

Alone in her bed, Mallory tried desperately to sleep. But sleep wouldn’t come as she continued to admonish herself for being such a jerk to Whit. Even now, she had no idea what had gotten into her. Why she had sounded so possessive and insecure the minute he’d hit the door. Because she had been jealous. Jealous to think that maybe he’d grown tired of her and found someone else. Why wouldn’t he? She’d basically cut off all intimacy a few days before and not because she’d really wanted to. She’d done it for emotional protection. Past experience seemed bent on revisiting her when it came to Whit and other women. Past experience was no excuse for her behavior. She’d totally overreacted, and that wasn’t like her at all. Of course, nothing involving Whit had been within her realm of normality. And, in reality, she had no real claim on him at all. No reason to believe that more existed between them than their attempts at making a baby. But Mallory acknowledged she wanted more. Much more, and that caused her to cry because she didn’t think she could have it. Hormones, she’d decided. Crazy, out-of-control hormones. Which meant one of two things. She was either nearing her period or pregnant. And unless she got her head on straight, she could be facing both prospects alone. She punched her pillow and turned toward the wall, trying to clear her mind. Then she heard the bedroom door creak open and every muscle in her body tensed. Knowing Whit was standing there, she pretended to sleep. If she acknowledged his presence, then she was in danger of walking right back into his arms or finally inviting him into her bed. She couldn’t afford that now. Not while she was feeling so susceptible and confused. The mattress bent behind her and she realized he wasn’t going to go away. He confirmed that when he said, “Mallory, we have to talk.” She didn’t dare turn over, otherwise all her remaining strength would vanish. “I’m tired, Whit.” “And I’m not your idiot ex-husband.” “I know that.” “I’m committed to having this baby with you.”

But that could be as far as his commitment went, and that was a problem, even though Mallory had known that was a possibility from the moment she’d asked him to father her child. “Maybe this was all a mistake.” “Mistake?” “Having a baby. Maybe we rushed into it. Maybe we should just let it go.” “After you’ve convinced me this is a good thing, now you’re saying you’ve changed your mind?” “I don’t know what I want.” “I’ll tell you what I want, Mallory. I want to have this baby as much as you do. In fact, I think about it all the time. If you take that away now, that wouldn’t be fair to either of us.” Life wasn’t always fair, something she’d learned the hard way. “I just need some time to think things through.” “Okay. I’ll give you time to think.” She felt his weight lift from the bed and heard his rough sigh. “While I’ m out of town, you think about this. When I agreed to do to this, I realized the terms. Make a baby, raise a child, remain friends. But it’s become more complicated than that. I never expected to…” When he didn’t finish his sentence, Mallory turned over and said, “You never expected to what?” He hesitated a few more seconds. “Never mind. Right now it doesn’t matter. I’ll give you plenty of time to think while I’m gone. In fact, I won’t bother you at all. And when I get back, you let me know what you’ve decided, since I obviously don’t have any say-so in the matter.” He strode out the door, slammed it behind him, and Mallory’s heart plummeted. She thought about what he’d almost said and began to fill in the blanks with her own list. He never expected to have such a good time? Never expected to make love in so many different positions and places? Never expected to have deeper feelings for her? Fall in love? Oh, how she wished that were the case. She’d never know unless she asked. It still wasn’t too late. She could get out of bed and go to him. She could bare her soul and tell him how she felt about him. She could be risking everything by doing so, especially if those feelings weren’t returned. Or she could do what he’d said, take the time while he was away and plan how to tell him. And maybe when he returned, she would have some news about whether they’d been successful in making a baby. She wanted to give him that more than anything because she’d already given him her heart.

Whit cursed himself for his cowardice. The night before he left, he’d had the prime opportunity to tell Mallory how he felt about her. He could have waited another hour before leaving for the airport the next morning and told her then. He could have called her and told her. Instead, he’d run scared—again. He didn’t understand why it was so difficult to express his feelings, to tell her how much he cared about her and that he wanted more than friendship. After all, they’d talked openly about so many things for the past few months; this shouldn’t be any different. He should have been honest with her, but that hadn’t been easy because, until recently, he hadn’t been honest with himself. And for the past five days, he’d been at loose ends. He’d gone through the motions of “let’s make a

deal” without giving his all. Fortunately, Field had taken up the slack and, oddly, without issuing one complaint. But now that they were an hour into the flight bound from Boston to Houston, Whit sensed his father wanted to say something, as always. “I think we’ve had a productive past few days.” That wasn’t what Whit was expecting, but he was grateful. “Yeah. Very productive. Looks like it’s going to be a go.” Field waved off the attendant offering another drink. “You seemed ready to go home from the first day we got there.” “I have a lot to do.” A long, candid talk with Mallory topped his list and this time he intended to shoot straight. But right now seemed like the perfect time to inform his father of his future plans. “There’s something I need to tell you.” Field toyed with the stirrer in his drink. “I’m listening.” Whit took the last of his drink down to the clink of ice cubes, then set the glass down on the tray, keeping it in his grip. “I want to build houses, not high-rises. In fact, I’ve already started a house north of Houston in a subdivision.” “I know.” That grabbed Whit’s full attention. “What do you mean you know?” “We’re both in the business, Whit. People talk, particularly subcontractors. Word gets around.” “And you didn’t say anything?” That had to be some kind of record. He shrugged, very un-Field-like. “What could I say? It’s your business, your money. I’ve known for a while you haven’t been happy.” Whit thought back to another time in his past. “You know, my wanting to build houses is your fault in a way. Back during the summer after I turned sixteen—” “I took you to work with me on that nonprofit project to build houses for single moms. I remember how much you liked doing that, and you were good at it.” “That was a great experience.” “One you needed. You can’t appreciate what you have until you see the whole picture. Since you never wanted for anything, materially speaking, I thought you should know that not everyone has been born into privilege.” Whit was just now beginning to let himself acknowledge how much his dad had done for him. How much he’d relied on him for support. How the man had always been there even though they’d spent a good deal of time locked in a battle of wills. “I appreciate everything, Dad. All the times you took off work for my baseball games. All the talks, even the advice. Most of it.” Field straightened his tie, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “You’re welcome, son. That’s what you’re supposed to do for your kids. The continuing conflict is just an added bonus.” They exchanged a quick smile before Whit added, “Then you’ll understand if I start my own business.”

“No.” Great, here it came. He should’ve known when his father’s acceptance had come too easily. “Look, Dad, I—” “You want to be on your own. I understand that. But there’s no reason why you can’t run your own business right where you are now, in our offices. Hell, you can take up residence three floors down. You have the staff in place, and you can hire more. And after I retire, you can have the whole thing to do with what you will. Maybe even save it for your own child.” Unbelievable. “No strings attached? No expectations of me heading up the designs on projects I don’t give a damn about?” “No, although I wouldn’t mind you consulting now and then, provided you have the time. I can promote Leland to your position. I would like for you to finish the Barclay project.” “No problem. I plan to finish what I’ve begun. I always do.” “Does that include your plans to father a child with Mallory?” Whit knew it was bound to come up sooner than later, although he was hoping for a whole lot later, like next year. “Yeah. If she’s still around when I get back.” “Problems?” Whit streaked a hand over the back of his neck then loosened his tie. “She’s having a problem trusting me, and I can’t blame her. She had a tough marriage to a guy who cheated on her, and I’ve never been known for…” “Your fondness for monogamy?” Even though his dad had said it with a smile, that stung like a hornet. The truth sometimes did. “Okay, I admit it, I’ve never wanted to settle down. But I’ve changed my mind. I want to commit to Mallory now. Unfortunately, we had an argument the night before I left and I ran out. I started to call her several times but I reconsidered. I wasn’t sure she wanted to talk to me.” Field looked all too serious. “Whit, you’ve inherited my stubbornness, and sometimes that’s good, sometimes that’s bad. But don’t inherit your mother’s tendency to run. The best thing you can do is tell her how you really feel.” He hated to think he was his mother’s son, but in some ways he was. “I’m pretty bad at saying what I feel.” “The first thing you need to say is that you love her.” Field inclined his head when Whit sighed. “You do love her, don’t you?” Damn, this was hard, admitting something so personal to his own father when he’d barely admitted it to himself. “Yeah, I do. More than I realized.” Okay, he’d said it, and the plane hadn’t fallen from the sky. “Then tell her, Whit. And while you’re at it, make a solid commitment to her. Ask her to marry you.” Whit sent him a skeptic’s look. “That’s your trick, Dad. And Mallory’s already been married. She seems fairly dead-set against it.” “You won’t know until you ask.” Field rimmed a manicured fingernail around the top of the glass.

“Maybe it’s taken me three times to get it right. But you can get it right the first time. Mallory is worth it.” Whit knew that well. But did he deserve her? Damn straight, he did. They deserved each other—she with her need for order and he with his penchant for being laid back. They complemented each other, in bed and out. And on the long nights he’d spent over the past few days, he’d come to a surprising conclusion—he hadn’t only made love with Mallory to have a child. He’d made love to her because he’d been in love with her for a long time, probably since that night he’d seen her walk down those stairs in that sweet dress for her first date. And because he’d failed to acknowledge his feelings for her all those years ago—both from fear and the belief she was hands off because she was his best friend’s sister—she ’d chosen someone else. Someone who hadn’t been fit to call himself her husband. The minute he arrived back in Houston, he’d make a few plans and then tell her he’d spent a good deal of his adult life running from her when he should have been running toward her. He looked forward to proposing, looked forward to making her say yes with every tactic known to God and man. And best of all, he looked forward to the day that she would tell him she was pregnant with their baby.

Ten S he wasn’t pregnant. Right now, she needed Whit more than ever. Had needed him that morning when she’d taken a pregnancy test, praying for a positive and receiving a negative. Needed him now while she waited to visit the doctor. Not exactly an official visit, at least in terms of an exam. But she had managed to arrange an appointment for a talk. A serious talk. The minutes ticked off slowly as she waited in the doctor’s private office, and those minutes soon turned into an hour. She couldn’t afford the time away from work, but she wanted to ask one more time about the odds of getting pregnant in light of her medical history. And she wanted to know before Whit arrived home tonight. When the door opened to Dr. Iverson, obstetrician extraordinaire, she drew in a deep breath in preparation for hard answers she felt sure she would receive. She started to stand but stopped when he said, “Don’t get up, Mallory.” He took a seat behind his desk and sent her a pleasant smile. “My nurse tells me you have some more concerns with the possibility of conception?” Mallory clasped her hands tightly in her lap, wishing for something substantial to hang on to. Wishing Whit was there. “Yes. I took a pregnancy test this morning and it was negative.” Just saying the words made her heart hurt. “And that got me to thinking about several things.” Dr. Iverson sat back in his chair and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “How many days late are you with your period?” “Actually, my best guess is two days. I’ve never been very regular.” “That’s right.” He straightened and flipped through the chart. “Two days isn’t a very long time.” “But the test says you can tell after one day.” He glanced up at her. “Yes, but they’re not always accurate.” Mallory considered ninety-nine percent fairly accurate. If only she could be assured of winning that many of her cases. “I realize that, but my breasts have been a little tender and I’ve been tired and emotional.” All symptoms of the onset of her period, she realized after she voiced them. “I guess I was anxious to

find out early this time.” After closing the folder, he leveled his gaze on her. “Mallory, there’s no reason to believe you won’t carry a baby to term, if that’s your concern.” It was, a huge concern. “But I didn’t go to the doctor immediately the first time. In fact, I waited until I was almost two months along before I even confirmed the pregnancy.” “And even if you had known earlier, you couldn’t have prevented it. It was one of those tragic things that sometimes happens. We don’t always have the answer.” Mallory wanted to believe that, truly she did. But at times she couldn’t help but wonder if her distress over the pregnancy contributed. Regardless, she still had one more question. “Because of the damage after the miscarriage, there is a strong chance I won’t be able to conceive, correct?” “As I’ve said before, you seem to still have function in the other ovary. Only time will tell.” For some reason, Mallory felt as if she was running out of time. “And if it’s not working properly?” “I suggest you keep trying. We can give it six months to a year and then explore other options.” She couldn’t imagine Whit putting his life on hold for that long. She couldn’t imagine asking him to do that. “If that’s the only option, I’ll have to live with it.” He tore a paper from a pad and began scribbling on it. “Just to be on the safe side, I want to get some more routine blood work done on you.” He handed her the paper. “Take this to the lab.” Mallory stared at the page for a moment. Lord, she hated needles. “Is this necessary? I mean, I had this done when I was in before.” “It’s precautionary. We want to make sure everything is up to speed with your health.” “Okay.” She stood and extended her hand. “Thank you, Dr. Iverson. I appreciate your time on such short notice.” He gave her hand a hearty shake. “Not a problem. In this day and time, I never can tell when I might be needing your services.” “I’m strictly family law. Unless you’re considering adoption or divorce, you won’t be seeing me professionally.” He chuckled. “No on both counts at my age. I have seven kids of my own and a wife who puts up with me, only God knows why.” After she told Whit the news, he might decide he would prefer not to put up with her any longer. “Okay, then. I’ll see you in six months.” “If not before then. And Mallory,” he said as she turned from the desk. She faced him again. “Yes?” “Try to keep the faith. If it’s meant to be, it will happen for you.” The news seemed to crash down her all at once, bringing about the threat of tears. She rushed out of the office before they arrived, knowing her faith was beginning to wither away on many levels. She wasn’t

optimistic about getting pregnant. She was even less optimistic about her relationship with Whit in light of what she now knew—she might learn to give him her trust, but she might never give him a baby. Maybe the right thing would be for her to leave, before she ruined the best friendship she’d ever had. And this time, she chose to run.

Whit couldn’t believe she had left. And worse, she hadn’t bothered with a face-to-face goodbye. Obviously he had taught her some tactics he’d never intended. Run when the going gets tough. He had to admit he’d been guilty of that on more than one occasion, except that when he’d left for Boston he hadn’t been running away. For the past five days he’d done nothing but think about running back home to her. And now she was gone. But he did know the reason for the hasty departure even though the note only said, “I can’t do this.” The negative pregnancy test sitting next to that brief missive said it all. He just didn’t understand why she’d given up so quickly. Or maybe he did—she’d thought about their relationship, about his reputation, and, as he had feared, decided he wasn’t worth the effort. If only he’d come home immediately from the airport that morning, he might have stopped her. Instead, he’d spent the afternoon making a few phone calls and arrangements for the surprise—a surprise that he’ d hoped would convince her they belonged together. Not just to make a baby but for life. Whit balled up the note and tossed it into the trash, along with the test. He wasn’t going to let either stop him from his goal. He would find Mallory and he knew exactly where to look. Making his way into the den, he picked up the phone and ignored the flashing message indicator. He could check those before he left, but right now he needed to make another important call. Mallory’s mother picked up on the second ring with a less-than-cheerful, “Hello.” “Lucy, it’s Whit. Is she there?” “Oh, Whitty, what happened? She’s so upset but she won’t talk to us.” “I’ll be there as soon as I can get there.” Considering rush-hour traffic, it wouldn’t be soon enough. “But don’t tell her I’m coming.” “What’s this all about?” “I’ll explain later.” And hopefully his explanation would come with a good ending to the whole scenario. After hanging up the phone, he accessed the voice mail, hoping to hear Mallory’s voice. But the first message was delivered by one crotchety paralegal. “Roz, here. Just wanted to let you know that Mrs. McMillan called. That P.I. worked wonders. Not one but two mistresses. She said the mister has decided not to pursue custody after all. And damn, I was just sharpening my knife. See you tomorrow.” Knife? Whit didn’t have time to ponder that before the second and final message began. He listened to it once, then listened to it again because he wasn’t certain he’d heard correctly. After he confirmed he had in fact gotten it right, he punched the off button and fought the burn of panic and a fear like he’d never known.

He needed to be with Mallory in the worst way, but first he needed information. And after he returned the call, he would find her, come hell or high water. Come what may.

Mallory needed another box of tissue. Crying buckets wasn’t normal for her at all, but then she’d only been this sad one other time in her life. She figured Whit had already arrived home to find she’d packed up and left. He’d probably found the note and the pregnancy test. She expected he might call, or maybe he already had. She’d given her parents strict instructions that she didn’t want to talk to anyone, and if that had been Whit on the phone, then they’d honored her wishes, God love them. Of course, she would have to eventually talk to him and tell him why she’d decided to leave. Her reasons had all seemed valid at the time. Now they seemed a lot like excuses. She’d lived her life by lists for the past two weeks, yet she didn’t have any how-to on how to deal with her heart. But she couldn’t ignore that she was in love with him. She also couldn’t up and ask Whit for a commitment. She’d foolishly done that once with another man, with disastrous results. Yet she knew deep down that Whit wasn’t Jerry. Everything her ex-husband had lacked, Whit had in spades. The only thing they shared was their love of women, but when she weighed that aspect, she had to admit Whit hadn’t been on one date since she’d moved in. In fact, he hadn’t even received any phone calls from females, at least not that she’d been aware of. But none of that would matter if he didn’t view her as more than a friend, and a temporary lover, like all the rest of the women in his life. And even if he did have deeper feelings for her, she might never be able to give him a baby. Would that be fair? The rap at the door startled her so much that she nearly vaulted off the bed. If Whit had arrived, what would she say? No matter how much she’d rehearsed it, the words stuck in her throat. “Mallory, can I come in?” Not Whit. Her father. “Sure.” She could use a broad shoulder to cry on, even if it wasn’t her shoulder of choice at the moment. But Dermot O’Brien was a master when it came to comforting distraught children. She swiped at her face, trying to erase her tears but to no avail when her dad entered, joined her on the edge of the bed and took her into his arms. She cried quietly against his chest, letting all the misery and confusion out until she’d sufficiently dampened the front of his shirt. Pulling away, she wiped at her face and muttered, “I’m sorry.” “No need to be sorry, darlin’.” He looked at her with his father’s eyes and patted her back with his father’s touch. “But I would like to know what’s got you in such a state.” She sniffed and sobbed. “It’s complicated, Daddy. I’ve just made a few mistakes and I don’t know how to rectify them.” “You could start by talking to the young man standing in my living room. I’m not sure which one of you looks worse even if he’s not gone into a crying jag. Yet.” Mallory’s eyes went wide. “Whit’s here?” “Yes, he is, and he says he has to see you.” She lowered her gaze to her joined hands. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea right now.” Dermot tipped her chin up and smiled. “Yes, my darlin’ daughter, it is a very good idea. You must work these matters of the heart out with the one you love.”

“I didn’t say I love him.” “You didn’t have to say it. I see it in your eyes. I saw it the night you were here for Logan’s party. It’s in his eyes, too, as apparent as the foam on a good mug of draft.” Mallory laughed, but it died quickly. “It doesn’t matter if I love him. I might not be able to give him what he needs.” “Sure you can, darlin.’ He would be blessed to have you.” “I might not be able to give him a baby.” She looked up to see her father’s frown. “Why would you think that?” “I’ve known for a while now. It’s a long story, and I’m too drained to go into it now. It just wouldn’t be fair to deny him that.” “Darlin’, it wouldn’t be fair for you not to give him the chance to make that decision. Children are blessings, but love is the greatest gift. You could have that with Whit.” Mallory felt the need to cry again and halted the tears with the last of her waning strength. “Whit hasn’t said he loves me.” “Ah, but he does. He always has. And I’ve always expected him to live up to the promise he made me years ago.” “What promise?” He pulled her close to his side. “When you were about fourteen, he told me that he would marry you one day. Then he went to college and you settled in with that Jerry. What a jammy client that one was.” Every now and then, Mallory was thrown by her father’s Irish slang. This was one of those times. “What’ s a jammy client?” “A class A fool. As useless as a cigarette lighter on a motor bike. Whit’s not a fool, my darlin’. He’s a fine fellow, and he will make you a good husband.” Ha! Mallory couldn’t imagine Whit even considering being a husband, no matter what her father had said. Promises made over fifteen years ago would be long forgotten. She plucked at a thread on the comforter to avoid his scrutiny. “He hasn’t proposed, Daddy. I’m not sure he will.” “You will never know that for sure unless you hear him out.” Dermot lifted her chin and thumbed away another tear. “Now do your old da a favor. Go in there and listen to that boy.” Taking her hands, he pulled her to her feet. “Your ma and me will leave you to your privacy.” Mallory smiled around her sudden wariness. “Okay, I’ll go talk to Whit. But don’t get your hopes up about the marriage thing.” Her father’s grin widened. “Well, darlin’, sometimes it’s hope that gets us through the rocky road of life. And sometimes your old da knows best.” Mallory hoped he was right, that maybe Whit did want more than a baby from her. And that hope sent her out the bedroom door to face the man she loved.

Whit sat on the O’Briens’ front porch steps like some pimply-faced kid waiting to take his best girl on a first date. But what he could face in the near future was unquestionably adult, not adolescent. When the door opened behind him, he stood and turned, hands jammed in his pockets and a stellar knot in his gut. He half expected to see Dermot coming out of the house to hand him an apology for Mallory’s refusal to see him. But it was Mallory walking through the door, hesitating only a moment. And Mallory, doing the unexpected, sprinting down the stairs and right into his arms. She buried her face in his shoulder and he realized she was crying, something else he hadn’t expected. Her body shook in his arms and that made him ache in the worst way. After a moment, she lifted her head, her heart in her beautiful green eyes. “Whit…I’m so, so sorry,” she said, her words barely discernable due to her sobs. He framed her face in his palms and kissed her cheeks. “”Hey…hey. It’s okay, babe.” “No, it’s not.” “It will be, I promise.” He looked over her head to see Dermot standing at the door, giving him a thumb’ s-up. “Let’s go for a drive.” She swiped at the moisture beneath her eyes. “Where?” “Some place we can talk.” Wrapping one arm tightly around her waist, Whit guided her to the truck, opened the door and helped her in. Normally she would protest the gesture, but it seemed as if she relied on him for even the simplest of things. He rounded the hood and slid inside, taking one last glance at the house to find Lucy had joined her husband on the front porch. They both looked hopeful, and Whit hoped like hell he didn’t disappoint them. Or Mallory. “I want you next to me,” he told her, indicating the space now separating them. She complied and even allowed him to belt her in. When she laid her head on his shoulder, he pulled away from the curb and took her hand, holding it tightly as if he believed she might jump out of the truck. A pretty damn illogical thought, but he wasn’t into logic right now. What he felt defied logic. Helpless and hopeful and anxious. As they traveled to their destination, Mallory didn’t ask again where they were going, as if she trusted him to take care of her. If only she could trust him enough to know that all he wanted was to make things right between them. Make things better. He would know soon enough, he decided when he pulled into the drive of the house. Only then did Mallory straighten and say, “Where are we?” “You’ll see.” Whit got out of the truck and helped her out, taking her by the hand and leading her up the path to his dream, and that held true in more ways than one, if she agreed to his plan. Once inside, he turned her around and stood behind her, his arms wrapped securely around her. “I designed this house, Mallory. I helped frame it with my own hands. This is where I’ve been when I’ve come home late. Not with another woman.” She looked back at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “Because I wanted to surprise you. And maybe I just had too much pride.”

“Who are you building it for?” He heard a hint of hope in her tone, and that made him smile. “At first I planned to have it as my showcase home,” he said. “But I’ve recently realized I wasn’t building it for the general public. Or even for me.” He tightened his hold on her. “I’ve been building it for you.” “For me?” “Actually, for us.” He turned her around to face him, kept her close to him. “I love you, Mallory. I have for years.” Her eyes misted again. “I love you, too, Whit. You’re my best friend.” He fought a round of frustration. “I don’t love you only as a friend, Mallory. I love you like any man in his right mind should love you.” He swallowed hard. “God, do I love you.” A single tear drifted down her cheek and he thumbed it away. “I love you, too, Whit. In the same way.” Whit released the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Marry me, Mallory O’Brien.” “But—” He pressed a finger against her lips. “No buts. Just yes. I want to hear you say yes.” She tugged his hand away. “I have to say this first. What if we never have a baby? What if I can’t have a baby? Would you still want me then?” “Mallory, let me tell you a little story. Back when we were still basically kids, I actually told your dad I was going to marry you.” She sent him a shaky smile. “I know. He told me that earlier.” But her dad hadn’t told her the rest because he hadn’t known. No one had known. “At that time, I think I saw it as my duty to protect you, just like your brothers had. But when I had to sit in that church pew on the day that you married that jerk and watched you vow to love him until death do you part, I realized I should’ve been the one standing there. I should’ve been kissing you to seal that vow and making love to you every night. Instead, I went about my life, settling into a routine of casual sex and empty relationships. I didn’t know why until now.” He cradled her face in his palms and leveled his gaze on her. “Because there hasn’t been a woman who could measure up to you. And I’m not going to wait until I find myself watching you marry someone else again. I want to hear you say those vows to me, and I want to say them to you. From this point forward, forsaking all others. Baby or no baby.” She smiled through a fresh flow of tears. “Who would have thought you would be such a romantic guy?” “You ain’t seen nothing yet. But you will, when you tell me you’ll marry me.” Her smile brightened her beautiful face. “Well, since I can’t stand the suspense, I guess I will marry you then.” Pulling her completely into his arms, Whit kissed her long, kissed her hard, kissed her with a love he never would have thought possible. After he reluctantly eased away from her sweet lips, he took her hand again and led her on the grand tour of the house in progress, explaining all the rooms and their functions, leaving the best for last. Before he opened that door, he moved behind her and shielded her eyes with his palms. “Just remember, it’s not finished yet because the decor is going to be up to you. But

I did have a little something brought in for this occasion. Keep your eyes closed until I say when.” After opening the door, he nudged her inside and said “When.” She opened her eyes wide and pointed. “What is that?” Whit grinned. “Well, that explains a lot, Mallory. If you don’t know what a bed is, then I guess that’s why we’ve never been in one.” She gave him a withering look. “I know it’s a bed, but why is it here when there’s no carpet on the floor?” He strode into the corner of the room and snapped on the lone floor lamp, the only light since the light fixtures were missing. Then he walked to the foot of the four-poster bed and pointed at the floor, housing the red monstrosity. “We do have a rug.” Mallory laid a hand over her mouth then laughed. “My favorite rug!” “Yeah, but we’re not going to make love on it tonight.” “Make love?” She folded her arms beneath her breasts and smiled, a slow, seductive one. “You’re awfully confident, Manning.” “No, O’Brien. I’m determined.” He walked slowly toward her. “We’re not going to think about making a baby. And we’re not going to do it against a wall or on the stairs or on in the floor. I am going to make slow, good love to you in a bed, and then I’m going to hold you close and, if you’re willing, I’m going to make love to you again.” He took another two steps until he was standing before her. “Lovemaking for the sake of love, not just sex.” She reached up and slipped his first button. “You’re not going to get any argument from me, if that’s what you’re waiting for.” “I’m not waiting anymore, Mallory. I’ve waited too long to have you. About twenty years, to be exact.” They undressed in a rush, but that was the only thing Whit wanted to hurry. He’d jumped through hoops and had gone through a lot of money to get the bed delivered. But, more important, he’d gone through hell to get to this point with Mallory. He took his time loving her, using his mouth and hands over her body, lingering in his favorite places. She returned the favor, driving him to the point of insanity before he finally slipped inside her body. This time was different from all the rest. Different because they had finally acknowledged what they’d probably known all along—that this was where they belonged. In the aftermath, he kept her wrapped in his arms, finally feeling as if he’d crossed that intimacy barrier she’d tried to put up on more than one occasion. But in a way, he’d done the same. He still had a lot he needed to tell her, and he thought an apology would be the best place to begin. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you took the pregnancy test. I wish you would have waited for me.” She kissed his shoulder and settled closer against his heart. “I thought about it. I guess I was hoping I could give you good news when you got home, and that brings me to something else I need to tell you.” “I have a couple of things I need to tell you, too.” “This time, I’m going to go first.” She braced on one bent elbow and he immediately saw the sorrow in her eyes, something he didn’t understand. That made him afraid she was about to tell him she’d changed

her mind. He waited for what seemed like an endless amount of time before she spoke again. “When Jerry and I were married about five months, I found out I was pregnant. I was in denial for a while, and when I finally confirmed it, I lost the baby two weeks later.” She looked as if she might cry again and Whit took her hand, then let her continue. “Back then I wasn’t prepared. I was too young, my marriage was a farce and I wasn’t ready to be a mother.” She swiped at her face when a few tears strayed down her cheeks. “When I took that pregnancy test all those years ago, I saw it was positive and all I could think was ‘Oh, no.’ And this morning, I wanted so badly to say, ‘Oh, yes.’” Whit brought her back into his arms and stroked her hair. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” “I never told anyone, not even my family. I think I felt guilty because I didn’t want to be pregnant, and when I realized I was happy about it, it was too late. For a long time I didn’t think I deserved to have a child because of that.” Whit tipped her chin up and kissed her lips. “You do deserve to be a mother, Mallory.” “But that might not be possible.” “Like I told you before, that doesn’t matter. And I also believe medicine isn’t an exact science. Now you have to promise me we won’t have any more secrets.” “I promise.” “Good. I’ve been keeping a few from you, too.” “You have?” “Yeah, but it doesn’t have anything to do with another woman. One has to do with your brother.” “You told him we’re trying to get pregnant.” “No, but Helena is pregnant.” Mallory stiffened. “Great. She gets a baby and I don’t.” “Not necessarily.” “I admire your optimism, Whit.” Reluctantly moving out of her hold, Whit sat up, leaned over the bed and fished through his pockets. “I checked our voice mail and retrieved a couple of messages.” He found the slip of paper and sat back up to read it. “Roz called and said something about a McMillan woman and her husband’s mistresses. He’s decided not to pursue custody.” “That is great news.” He turned his attention from his scribbling to Mallory. “She also said something about sharpening a knife.” “That just Roz spouting off. Ignore her.” “If you say so. Now for the most important message, but first, I have to show you something.” When he stood by the bed, Mallory grinned. “I’ve already seen Mr. Happy. Know him quite well, as a

matter of fact.” “This doesn’t exactly involve Mr. Happy.” Whit pulled his shorts from his slacks and slipped them on. “So what do you think?” Mallory sat up and homed in on the drawers he’d bought in a Boston baby shop. “I think I have never seen a pair of boxers with pink storks before. They put the happy face to shame.” Another pall crossed over her face. “I just hope they bring us luck in the fertility department.” “We don’t need any luck with that.” He stretched out on his side and faced her, his jaw propped on his palm. “You got a phone call from your doctor, something about blood work.” “I went to see him today. I guess he’s reporting the findings.” “You would guess right.” “He said what they were on the phone?” “It was his nurse, and she said it was very important you call. So I did it for you.” “What did she say?” “Not much. In fact, she didn’t want to talk to me, even when I told her I’m your fiancée. But I turned on the charm and when that didn’t work, I prodded her until she finally told me one thing, even if she couldn’ t tell me the lab results.” He ran a fingertip along her jaw. “She said she called in a prescription for vitamins. I picked them up for you at the pharmacy.” She frowned. “Vitamins? I wonder if I’m anemic.” He’d waited a long time for this moment, or at least most of the afternoon. Maybe even most of his life. “Prenatal vitamins, O’Brien.” At first she seemed confused, then her eyes went wide. “What?” “You’re pregnant.” Mallory placed both hands over her mouth, but it didn’t conceal her gasp. “Please tell me you’re not kidding.” “I wouldn’t kid about something that important.” He pointed to her, then back to himself. “You and me, we’re going to be parents, and the bottle’s in my pants’ pocket if you need proof.” She shook her head. “I trust you. But why did you wait until now to tell me?” “I wanted you to marry me because you wanted to marry me, not because we’re having a baby. I love you and I can’t live without you, baby or no baby.” She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly, her tears warm against his neck. Whit could live with those particular tears because he knew they resulted from Mallory’s joy, not sadness. After he allowed her another good cry, he pulled back and studied her face, loving her even more than he ever thought himself capable. “Guess all those wives’ tales worked.” “Or maybe it was just meant to be.”

“You’re right about that, and I can’t wait to meet Bruno in about eight months.” “You’ll be meeting Betsy. Get used to it. And it’s your fault. You should have had that sex against the wall while you still had the chance.” He narrowed his eyes. “After all the ways we did it, I’m thinking some of them had to be on the suggestions for making a boy.” Mallory kissed him quickly and smiled. “You know something, I don’t care what we have, as long as it’s healthy and happy and loved.” “I don’t do design faults, O’Brien. This is going to be one great kid.” “And with a bit of luck and good genes, not a reptile.” They shared a quick laugh before he noticed concern calling out from her eyes. “What’s wrong, Mallory?” She worked the corner of the sheet back and forth with her fingertips. “You need to be aware that I’m going to be a little nervous for the first few weeks, at least until I know our baby’s okay.” He pulled her back against him. “You can count on me to take good care of you and our baby. We’ll get through this together.” “And I’ll take good care of you, too.” Whit knew she would, the same as they’d been taking care of each other for the past five months. He looked forward to more of the same for the next fifty years or so.

Epilogue “W here’s the bride and groom?” Mallory turned her attention to Corri who was seated on the other end of the sofa in the O’Brien’s den, the place they’d gathered for the evening in celebration of Logan’s impending nuptials to take place the following evening. “I thought they were on their way after the rehearsal.” Corri checked her watch. “That was over an hour ago.” “Maybe they’ve decided to begin the honeymoon a little early,” Mallory said, although that thought was less than pleasant. She’d been enduring Helena’s nasty attitude during the preparations for the wedding for the past eleven weeks, and she resented that the hellcat might be alone with her prospective bridegroom while Mallory had barely had a minute with Whit today. “Maybe one of them changed their mind,” Corri said. “That might not be such a bad idea. I don’t really think they’re suited for each other.” Mallory could tell by Corri’s tone and her melancholy expression that something was bothering her. She would wager she knew what that something was. “Where’s my brother tonight?” Corri shrugged. “Supposedly on his way home from Atlanta.” Supposedly. Red flag. “How’s his job going?” “Great. How’s married life for you?”

“Wonderful.” And it was, incredibly wonderful. Mallory marveled over the difference between her first and second attempts at matrimony, both in bed and out. “I’m surprised you and Whit didn’t have an official wedding.” “I did that the first time,” Mallory said. “Besides, with Logan and Helena getting married in a big to-do ceremony, I didn’t want Mom and Dad to have to worry about it. Our courthouse setting suited us both fine.” She’d chosen to be married by the man commonly known, behind his back, as Judge Honey. He’d earned his name not because he was a real sweetheart, but because every ruling he made stuck. She liked being stuck with Whit. On that thought, she sent a glance in her husband’s direction. He was conversing with Keiran and Aidan, the only O’Brien brothers present at the moment. Devin had taken his nervous wife home early to relieve the babysitter since poor little Sean still suffered from colic. She caught Whit’s eye and he smiled and winked. He still took her breath away, even more so now that he was hers, all day, every night, in their new house and shared bed. And in one more week, she’d tell the family about the baby, after she’d surpassed the most vulnerable time of the pregnancy. So far she’d felt great, no morning sickness at all and only a little fatigue. Whit had been so supportive and so careful when he’d made love to her, which hadn’t been nearly enough. But they’d both agreed to err on the side of caution, despite her doctor’s assurances that lovemaking wouldn ’t hurt a thing, something he’d told her at her appointment today. Something she couldn’t wait to tell Whit, among other things. The front door swung open and Logan finally walked in, sans future bride. Without so much as a greeting to anyone, he signaled Whit to follow him back outside. The substantial group of family and friends, minus the bride’s mother who had nixed coming to the rehearsal dinner probably because it was beneath her to partake in a barbecue, began murmuring amongst themselves. Mallory had to admit she was more than curious, too. “What do you think is going on?” Corri asked. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.” When Whit came back into the house, Mallory pushed off the sofa and started toward him, hesitating when he paused to talk to her dad. Something was definitely up, and something told her not to intervene just yet. Dermot shook his head and slapped Whit on the back. By the time Whit had made it to Mallory’s side, her dad had taken his place at the front of the room, tapping his beer mug to garner everyone’s attention. “Listen up, folks. I have a bit of disappointing news to tell you all.” Once Dermot gained everyone’s full attention, he cleared his throat. “It seems there’s not going to be a wedding after all.” A few people muttered and some even gasped, including Lucy who almost dropped her cache of canapés. “Anyway,” Dermot continued, looking almost relieved. “I don’t know all the particulars, but it’s best we not dwell on that tonight. We have plenty of food and beverage, and I don’t believe in wastin’ a good opportunity for a party, so I would like to continue the celebration in honor of my darlin’ daughter, Mallory, and her new husband, Whit, who did their parents a favor and ran off to marry.”

Family and friends held their glasses up for the toast while Whit leaned down and kissed Mallory full on the mouth. A round of applause ensued before Dermot was calling for everyone’s attention again. “Just a few more things I’ll be sayin’. First, to my son-in-law. Whit, I’ve given you a jewel and you treat her as such. I also expect me a grandson by this time next year.” Whit exchanged a glance with Mallory that said “not a problem” before replying, “I’ll try to oblige, Dermot.” Mallory turned her attention to her father who presented a loving look that shot straight to her heart. “And for my darlin’ Mallory. In the words of my Irish ancestors, ‘No man ever wore a scarf as warm as his daughter’s arm around his neck.’” He tipped his glass toward her. “I love ya, darlin.’” She held up her glass of grape juice, keeping the tears a bay—for now. “I love you, too, Daddy.” Mallory couldn’t lay claim to being disappointed over the news, and it didn’t seem as if anyone else was, either. “Well, that’s a shocker,” she said to Whit. “I can’t believe Helena would actually back out at this late date.” “It wasn’t her. It was your brother.” Obviously, Logan had reclaimed some common sense. “In a way I’m glad. I don’t think she was good for him. But I do wonder what they’re going to do about the baby.” Whit draped his arm around her shoulder and she curled her arm around his waist. “Actually, there isn’t a baby. There never was. Old Helena thought that was the only way she could get Logan to marry her, and I guess she was right.” What Mallory mentally called Helena at the moment couldn’t be said out loud. She only wished she knew the slang for it. “When did Logan find out?” “About an hour ago. He’s pretty pissed off, and I can’t blame him. But it’s better he found out now before he made a huge mistake.” Whit stared off to space and Mallory knew what he was thinking about, the event that caused him to miss her doctor’s appointment, with good reason. She should probably wait until later to inquire how it went, but she’d been wondering about it all afternoon. With all the wedding mess, they’d had no opportunity to be alone. She would simply ask and if he didn’t want to talk about it, then she’d leave it be until later. “Did you talk to your mother?” “Yeah, I did,” he said without looking at her. “And?” “She said congratulations on the marriage and to send pictures of the baby.” “That’s it?” “She also said she was sorry she didn’t stay in touch but she’s happy now. She and my dad were too young when they married and she just couldn’t deal with a kid.” Mallory could understand the “too young to marry” part, but that was about it. “I still don’t know how she could have walked away from her husband and child.” He gave her a meaningful look full of love. “That’s because you would never do that. And Mallory, I’m

not my mother. My running days are over. I’m not going to leave you if the going gets tough.” “I know you won’t.” And she did. “We’ll just have to work really hard to make each other happy.” “Aside from you insisting to rearrange my underwear drawer when we moved into the house, you make me very happy.” His smile made a grand appearance. “But you know what would make me really happy about now?” Mallory really didn’t have to ask. She could see it in his dark, dark eyes. “I have a feeling this involves Mr. Happy.” “You bet it does. As long as you’re feeling okay.” “I’m feeling great, and my doctor says we have no reason to stop doing what we normally do. But it is kind of early to be leaving.” He leaned over and whispered, “Who said anything about leaving?” Mallory glanced around the room, noting many of the guests had wandered into the backyard for the barbecue. “Would you like to see my old bedroom?” “Mallory O’Brien-Manning, that’s why we’re so damn good together. You can read my mind.” She slid her hand down his back and gave him a little pinch on his butt. “I can read your body fairly well, too.” He set his half-full beer on the coffee table and tugged her into his arms. “So you’re game?” “I certainly am. And I love you, Whit Manning,” she said, not caring that one particular O’Brien walked by to witness her declaration. Whit kissed her again, softly, yet with a world of emotion in the gesture and in his eyes. “And if we’re lucky, we won’t get caught.” “At least this time, we’re legally married.” Taking Whit by the hand, they headed down the hall, ignoring the questioning looks they were getting from the last of the stragglers who had yet to join the party outside. Fortunately, her parents were nowhere to be found. Once in the bedroom, Mallory dropped back onto the bed, sending stuffed animals helter-skelter on the floor while Whit closed the door. Before Whit joined her, Mallory asked, “Did you lock it?” through a yawn. He lowered onto the edge of the bed beside her and frowned. “Yeah, but maybe you should take a nap. I don’t want you to overdo it.” She loved his concern, loved everything about him, in fact, even if he did have a penchant for discarding his socks in the den floor. “I’m not overdoing it, and the doctor said everything looks good. I am growing fairly fast, which could mean twins.” “Twins?” He looked and sounded shocked. “With my family history, I wouldn’t be surprised.” She smiled. “And with your potency, odds are it’s a very good possibility. We’ll find out tomorrow when I have the sonogram.” He returned her smile only his was a bit cynical. “And with my luck, we’ll have two girls. I probably deserve that.”

“We deserve a healthy, happy baby, no matter what the gender.” He plied her with soft kisses as he began slipping the buttons on her blouse. “And we’re going to have that, babe.” “I know we are.” Whit was one of the prime reasons for Mallory’s optimism. A few months before, she’ d never believed that they would be anything other than friends and roommates. A few weeks ago, she’d never believed they would be anything but lovers and possibly parents. Now she had it all—a friend, roommate, lover and husband. And a real wise guy, she decided when Whit inclined his head, his hands poised on the final button. “Did you hear that?” Mallory rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Well, it can’t be the sperm derby and I sure as heck hope it isn’t the cops. Or my parents.” After parting the placket on her blouse, Whit laid a cheek on her belly. “Bruno’s complaining because just like her mother, Betsy’s trying to rearrange their space….” Mallory laughed at Whit’s commentary, but her laughter was soon replaced by blissful silence when her husband turned down the lights and made sweet, gentle love to her. Afterward, as they held each other in the dark while the party raged on outside, Mallory remembered an old Irish proverb that fit their situation so well. Your feet will bring you to where your heart is. Maybe it had taken ten years to bring her and Whit to this precious place. And maybe some would consider that a waste of time. But Mallory recognized that they’d both needed time to grow up, which they had as they’d grown closer. She also acknowledged that although the path she’d taken to this point had been fraught with some heartache, it had made this journey’s end that much sweeter. And better still, it was only the beginning.

Don’t miss Kristi Gold’s next Silhouette Desire, EXECUTIVE SEDUCTION, available December 2006!

ISBN: 1-55254-698-5 THE PREGNANCY NEGOTIATION Copyright © 2006 by Kristi Goldberg All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A. All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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