The Best Man's Baby

It’s a second-chance baby!

Julia Keys has everything going for her—beauty, brains and a Hollywood career. So why does she keep ending up in Logan Brandt’s bed? The sexy former pro baseball player has wreaked havoc on her heart for years. But when their latest fling ends with a plus sign on the pregnancy test, Logan makes the case for marriage.

Julia knows the only wedding in their future is the one they’re both attending, no matter how hot the chemistry between them still burns. Can two high school sweethearts who’ve made a mess of love finally get it right...even if the baby isn’t Logan’s?

“I’m not sure I believe you when you said you didn’t feel anything earlier today. When we kissed in front of the cameras.”

Logan’s voice was low, resonating throughout her body. It wasn’t just the kiss that made her feel something. Everything about him made her feel, and that was a terrifying feeling. Leaving herself open to him eventually led to hurt. Always.

A heavy sigh escaped her lungs. “It was a kiss. It didn’t change my world,” she lied.

Logan reared back his head and brought their dance to a stop. “I don’t believe you.”

“It was hours ago. I hardly even remember it.”

“Then let me refresh your memory.”

He clutched her neck and lowered his lips to hers. His mouth drifted to her cheek, his stubble scratching her nose, then he traveled to her jaw and kissed her neck. She kept her eyes closed, luxuriating in every heavenly press of his lips, not wanting it to end.

“Tell me you don’t feel anything,” he whispered into her ear.

“I don’t feel anything.” The truth was that she was feeling everything right now. Her entire body was so alert she could probably stay awake for the next twenty-four hours.

“You said it yourself earlier today. You’re a terrible liar.”

The Best Man’s Baby

Karen Booth

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KAREN BOOTH is a Midwestern girl transplanted in the South, raised on ’80s music, Judy Blume and the films of John Hughes. She writes sexy, big-city love stories. When she takes a break from the art of romance, she’s teaching her kids about good music, honing her Southern cooking skills or sweet-talking her husband into whipping up a batch of cocktails. Find out more about Karen at www.karenbooth.net.

For Bryony Evens, my sweet and lovely friend.

May the handsome guy in the flower shop

always flirt with you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

One

Julia Keys ducked out of the cab in front of her childhood home amid a hailstorm of camera flashes and shouts from reporters.

Where’s Derek, Julia? Is he flying in from LA for your sister’s wedding?

Is it true you and Derek are shopping for a house together?

Any chance you and Derek will tie the knot?

Ludicrous questions, and yet they kept coming. She wouldn’t date Derek, her current costar, if her life depended on it. The idea made her queasier than her first trimester morning sickness, and that was saying a lot.

Dodging reporters and lugging a week’s worth of designer clothes in a roller bag, she marched up the walk, past the rhododendron that had been in full bloom at the beginning of summer, the last time she’d been back in Wilmington. That was also the last time Logan Brandt had stomped on her heart. The very last time. Or at least that was the plan.

Her father raced down the stairs of the wraparound porch and folded her into his arms. “Y’all need to learn some manners,” he yelled to the media militia assembled at the curb.

At least the local press had enough respect to stay off private property. The same could not be said for the paparazzi in a big city like New York or Los Angeles. A film career spanning nearly a decade had left Julia a reluctant pro. Judging by the frantic phone call from her publicist that morning, when the story of her nonexistent romance first broke, the press would be arriving in waves over the next several hours.

“Sorry about that, Daddy. Don’t talk to them. They’ll go away if we don’t say anything.” She pressed a kiss to her father’s clean-shaven face. It was framed by thick, chocolate-brown hair—the same color as Julia’s, except his had gone salt-and-pepper at the temples. The few wrinkles he had showed deep concern. Of course he was worried—one daughter was getting married, and the other, according to the strangers still yammering at them, had questionable taste in men. When her real predicament—the one that would make her father a granddad—finally came to light, she could only hope he’d stay as relatively calm as he was now.

Her father ushered her inside, which was only about ten degrees cooler than the eighty-degree day. She knew better than to ask her dad to adjust the thermostat. As far as he was concerned, it was September, and therefore autumn, which meant air-conditioning was no longer needed. Never mind that summer in coastal North Carolina could stretch on until Halloween.

Her mother strolled into the living room wearing a pink sleeveless blouse and white capri pants, auburn hair back in a ponytail, pearls completing the look, as always. She wiped her hands with a checkered kitchen towel. Julia’s younger sister, Tracy, brought up the rear. Spitting image of their mother and the bride-to-be, Tracy was a fresh-faced vision in a turquoise sundress, staring down Julia as if she were evil incarnate. Julia was now liking her chances with the school of piranha masquerading as the media outside.

Mom offered a hug and a kiss. “It’s good to see you, hon. I feel so spoiled having you home for the second time in three months.”

Three months. Just enough time to get pregnant. “The high school reunion was one thing. It’s not every day my baby sister gets married.” Julia went in for a hug from her sister.

Tracy was having none of that, planting her hands on her hips. “How long are we going to pretend that Jules isn’t ruining my wedding? If y’all are going to stand around and chitchat like nothing is wrong, I’m asking Carter to fix me a stiff drink.”

It physically hurt to know that her arrival didn’t warrant a hug, but Julia couldn’t blame her sister. If the roles had been reversed, she’d be mad as a hornet about the frenzy in the front yard. “I’m sorry about the mess outside, but it’s all a stupid lie. The press has been hinting at something between Derek and me since before we even started filming. Trust me, I’m not involved with him.”

“I saw the photos. You’re practically kissing him.” Her mother’s sweet drawl teetered on practically. “Are you denying it because you’re not proud of the way he’s behaved? They said he’s been arrested for public intoxication seven times. Why would you want to be with a man like that?”

Julia shook her head, sweat already beading up on her skin. If the press could sell this contrivance of a story to her own mother, they could convince anyone. “Mom. Listen to me.” She grasped her shoulders. “I swear there’s nothing going on with Derek. Yes, it looks like a kiss. We were rehearsing a scene. I have zero interest in him. And he has no interest in me.” And he has the world’s worst breath.

“Then go outside and tell those buzzards precisely that.” Julia’s father teased back the drapes, peering outside. “We spent an awful lot of money on this wedding. I’m not about to see it ruined.”

If only her father knew the lengths to which Julia was already going to not ruin her sister’s wedding—namely keeping a pregnancy under her hat, which was absolutely killing her. Why couldn’t things be normal? Just once? If her life were normal, she’d walk into this room and tell her parents she was pregnant. Her mother would probably burst with excitement, then sport the start of a nine-month-long smile and ask a million questions. Her father would sidle up to Julia’s loving, handsome husband and congratulate him with a firm handshake and a clap on the back. But of course, things couldn’t be normal. No husband had materialized in Julia’s twenty-nine years on earth, and that was of little consequence compared to not knowing whether her ex or Logan Brandt was the baby’s father. Oops.

“You have to trust me,” Julia said. “If we say anything, they’ll just ask more questions. We should ignore them and focus on Tracy.” Please. Anything so I can stop fixating on wanting to blurt out that I have a tiny top-secret bundle of joy in my belly.

Tracy snorted and shook her head. “Focus on me.” Plopping down on the end of the couch, she broadcast her anger by aggressively flipping through a bridal magazine. “That’s rich coming from you right now.” Tracy had never been much for mincing words. Why start now?

Their father sat in his wingback chair. “Jules, I know you think you know what you’re doing, but I’ve had my own experience with the media.” Julia’s father had been a state senator for two decades. Twenty-one squeaky-clean, scandal-free years. “If they’ve fabricated this much, they’ll speculate until the cows come home. Who knows what they’ll come up with next.”

A heavy sigh came from her mother. “I can’t even think about this anymore. I need to keep myself busy in the kitchen. Maybe open a bottle of chardonnay.”

“See? Now your mother is upset. I didn’t pay all this money for a scandal and an unhappy wife.”

“Is that all you care about?” Tracy blurted. “The money? What people will say?”

“I have a reelection campaign to run next year. My family should be an asset, not a political liability.”

Tracy tossed the magazine aside. “I swear to God, it’s like I’m not even getting married. Julia and money and Dad’s job are obviously far more important.”

“We’ve never had a family scandal before, Trace. I intend to keep it that way.”

Family scandal. If only they knew. Julia took a deep breath, but it made her head swim. A smooth start to Tracy’s wedding was out the window, and it was all her fault. The guilt of that alone was overwhelming. Tracy had played second fiddle in the Keys family for the last decade, simply because of Julia’s success. People were always making a fuss, as much as Julia tried to deflect. It was time for her sister to have center stage. Then Julia could avoid the family microscope and find the perfect time to break the baby news, only after the wedding was over and the happy couple was on a cruise ship to the Bahamas.

Tracy’s fiancé, Carter, came downstairs. “Logan just pulled up.”

Logan. There was that to deal with as well. Her stomach sank, adding an entirely new and unpleasant aspect to pregnancy queasiness. His hundred-watt smile painfully flashed in her memory. Then came the visions from their last time together. They’d spent nearly the entire weekend in bed. His bare chest, naked shoulders...and other glorious stretches of his tawny brown skin were all that wanted to cycle through her mind. Damn pregnancy hormones. Her pulse raced, stirring emotion—anger over the way Logan had ended things after the reunion, frustration over once again being the girl who never managed to do anything the right way. In between all of that was a churning sea of uncertainty. And some churning of her stomach as well. She was going to be a mom. And Logan might be the father. Or he might not. Either way, she had no choice other than to tell him, deal with his reaction and move on. There was nothing more than moving on between them, and that was to be done as two separate parties. Logan had seen to that.

But first she had to find the right time to tell him. Maybe she’d take the approach her mother did when she had potentially upsetting news to break to her father—she’d tell him while he was driving. A man could only freak out so much with two hands on the wheel.

* * *

Parked on the narrow tree-lined street, several houses down from the grand Victorian the Keys family had lived in since he could remember, Logan Brandt bided his time in his rental car. Sunglasses on, flipping the keys on his finger, he studied the reporters milling about, consulting their phones. Waiting.

“What a mess,” he mumbled. The buzz of activity was normal when it came to Julia. Even if she’d never become a box office hit or had her stunning face land on the cover of countless magazines, drama still would’ve found her. As to the cause, Logan was so tired of this scenario he could hardly see straight. Julia was once again romantically entangled with a disastrous guy. One of her projects, no doubt, as he referred to them.

His phone rang. Carter, the groom-to-be, his best friend from high school. “Hey,” Logan answered. “I’m just now getting to the house.”

“Liar. You’re sitting in your rental car because you don’t want to deal with Hurricane Julia.”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Nobody in Wilmington drives a car that expensive. Well, nobody but you.”

Logan snickered. He did have an appetite for nice cars, especially if they were fast, and if anyone knew him well, it was Carter. He and Logan had met freshman year of high school at baseball tryouts. Logan landed a spot on varsity, a harbinger of things to come—full scholarship to UCLA, eight years as a major league pitcher. Record-breaking seasons. Record-breaking salaries. Then a World Series, a loss, and a career-ending injury. His trajectory had never suggested it’d all be over by the time he was thirty.

Julia was a loss of another kind, although it dogged him in much the same way. His high school sweetheart, the woman who understood him better than most, and yet she’d hurt and disappointed him countless times. He must be a glutton for punishment, because he was still wrestling with his need for Julia.

“You have to come inside and talk to Julia about getting rid of the press. Tracy is freaking out,” Carter pleaded.

“I doubt she’s going to listen to a thing I say after what happened after the reunion.”

Julia and Logan saw each other every year at their high school reunion. The meeting had several time-honored traditions that only they were a part of. First came the downing of a cocktail, followed by merciless flirting—laughing, innocent touches, pointed glances, the flipping of hair from Julia. After the second drink came a spirited round of one-upmanship, including desperate attempts to convince the other how “happy” they were. Once full tipsiness was achieved, the painful stroll down memory lane could commence, usually ending with a heated make-out session. In those instances, one of them was to cut it short before things went too far. It was customary for the other person to stomp on the brakes the following year.

The last reunion had veered off course. They’d both walked in wounded—Logan hated his new career as a network commentator covering the sport he missed terribly, while Julia had just been offered a role playing a much older woman. She’d also made mention of having been dumped by another boyfriend, but Logan had tried to ignore that part. They’d needed each other that balmy June night, and that translated into two unforgettable days in bed, making love, laughing and talking for hours.

Unfortunately, Logan had been shaken back to reality when he got to the airport at the end of their weekend and saw a tabloid story saying there was romance brewing with her next costar—the hapless movie star named Derek. True or not, it was too powerful a reminder that Julia wasn’t capable of settling down. She was too busy trying to save the world, too drawn to an endless string of loser guys. Logan refused to be one of her losers. He’d had no choice but to end things before she hurt him again.

“Sorry you had to find out about her new boyfriend like this,” Carter said. “It’s gotta be tough.”

“I’m fine. I’d already seen the papers. I knew all about it.” Just like last time. And every other time.

“Will you please get in here so I can offer you a beer and not feel guilty about having one myself at four in the afternoon?”

“I’ll be right there.”

Logan did his duty as Carter’s best man, strolling down the aged sidewalk to the Keyses’ house. The reporters yelled after him—mostly requests to get Julia to come outside, although there was one question about life as an athlete-turned-sports commentator. Logan didn’t reply; he just waved. He wasn’t about to chime in if they asked about Julia and her new boyfriend.

Mrs. Keys opened the door, welcoming him with a smile and a hug. “Logan Brandt. If my eyes don’t deceive me. I hope you and Julia can play nicely today. We have enough drama for a lifetime.”

Logan nodded, stepping inside and keeping an eye peeled for Julia. “Don’t you worry about us.” I’ll do it for you.

Carter waved on his way into the kitchen. “Two beers, coming up.”

Tracy rose from the couch, but grabbed Logan’s arms rather than taking the hug he offered. Her eyes were ringed in pink. “Will you talk to her? You might be the only person she’ll listen to about getting the press to go away.”

“I don’t know that I have any sway with...” Her name was poised on his lips when Julia waltzed in from the kitchen. Midstride, she froze. He couldn’t move, either. Their eyes locked, and he felt as though he was up to his knees in a concrete block of memories, the most recent ones the strongest—watching her sleep in the early morning as his hand followed the contour of her lower back and a smile broke across her face. When Julia was happy, the world was a beautiful place, and she gave in to it, heart and soul.

For an incoherent instant, he wished he could take back the message he’d left for her. The one that ended everything. Her pull on him registered square in the center of his chest—a tightening that said two opposing things: he couldn’t live without her, but he had to stick to his guns or he’d end up romantic roadkill. “Jules.”

“Logan.” Julia didn’t come closer, which was a good thing, albeit disappointing. She crossed her arms, building a fortress around herself. Still, her vanilla scent found his nose and warmed him from head to toe.

“How are you?” he asked. If ever there was a loaded question, that was it. Stress radiated off her, but she was as stunning as ever. Her silky chestnut hair fell about her face in waves, effortlessly sexy. His hands twitched with the memory of what it was like to have his fingers buried in it. Her peachy skin had a summer glow he couldn’t place—she usually avoided the sun. It suited her. Perfectly.

“I’m fine. I’m ready to start talking about the wedding and stop talking about me,” she said.

I bet.

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Mrs. Keys said. “I have a special treat for Carter in the kitchen, and then we’ll get started. Trace, why don’t we go over the schedule and you can fill us all in on the jobs we need to do.”

Tracy pulled out a binder and perched on the middle cushion of the couch. Carter handed Logan a bottle of pale ale and took a seat next to his bride-to-be, putting his arm around her and kissing her temple. Logan had given Carter plenty to envy over the years, but when it came to this, Carter had him beat. Aside from a temporary breakup, Carter and Tracy’s love story was uncomplicated and sweet. Logan would’ve done anything to have that.

Mrs. Keys triumphantly presented a platter of her world-famous deviled eggs to her future son-in-law.

Carter lunged for one the instant they were on the coffee table. “Oh, man. Thank you. I love these things.” He popped it into his mouth and moaned in ecstasy.

Julia made a wretched sound and pursed her lips, turning away.

“You okay?” Logan asked as Mrs. Keys took the remaining spot on the couch, next to Tracy.

Julia clamped her eyes shut and nodded. “Bad experience with deviled eggs on set a few weeks ago. I’m fine.”

“Oh, honey. I didn’t know,” Mrs. Keys said, as her husband grabbed several of the offending eggs. “I can put them away if you like.”

Julia shook her head. “Don’t worry about me. I know how much everyone loves them.”

Mr. Keys sat in his chair, leaving the love seat for Julia and Logan. Once again, their gazes connected, and he had to fight to make sense of what his body was saying to him. The problem was, whenever she was in a foul mood, he had a deep longing to kiss her out of it. He was practically wired to do it.

Logan offered her a seat. “Please. Ladies first.”

Julia rolled her eyes. “Such a gentleman.”

“I’m just being polite.”

“It’s a little late for polite.”

“No fighting,” Tracy barked. “Julia, I swear to God, you’re going to kill me. I need the maid of honor and best man to get along. The reporters are bad enough. Not that you don’t have the ability to make them go away.”

Julia sat, snugging herself up against the arm of the love seat, preemptively distancing herself from him. “I can only say it so many times. The story is fake. I know you all think I have the world’s worst taste in men, but don’t worry. I did manage to avoid this one. And if we just ignore the press, they’ll leave.”

Relief washed over him, followed by surprise. No romance with Derek? Really? “Julia’s probably right. They’ll get bored if you don’t talk to them.” Feeling considerably more at ease, Logan joined Julia on the love seat. “We’re getting along just fine. No fighting.”

Tracy’s eyes darted back and forth between them. She seemed unconvinced, but returned her focus to her binder. “Give me a minute to figure out what I want everyone to do. Mom, can you look at this?”

Mrs. Keys slid closer to her daughter and the two became immersed in conversation. That left Carter and Mr. Keys to feast on deviled eggs.

Logan was still computing the revelation about Julia’s costar. If the story was fake, had it always been? “So, no love connection with Derek, huh?” he asked under his breath.

“No.”

“Never?”

“No, Logan. Not ever,” she snipped. “After that lovely message you left for me, I’m surprised you care.”

Ouch. “I never want to see you with the wrong guy, Jules.”

“Okay, everybody. Listen up.” Tracy straightened in her seat and started rattling off orders about the florist and picking up wedding bands, the baker and final dress fittings, like a four-star general about to lead them into battle. That left no time for Logan to continue his conversation with Julia, although he wanted to. At least to smooth things over.

Julia was scribbling notes as fast as Tracy could talk. “Got it. I’m on florist and cake duty. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. The only hitch is that I didn’t rent a car.” She cleared her throat. “Logan, maybe you can drive me.”

“You’re at the same hotel. It only makes sense,” Mrs. Keys chimed in.

True. It did make sense, but he couldn’t escape the feeling that Julia had ulterior motives. Something in her voice told him that she did. Whatever her plan, hopefully it didn’t include ripping his head off and sticking it on a stake in the front yard as payback for the post-reunion breakup. “Of course. Whatever Tracy and Carter need us to do to help make this the perfect wedding.”