A Pregnant Proposal

“I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to speak to me again.”

“Jen.” Matt couldn’t stand to see her so upset. “I’m not about to stop speaking to you. This isn’t about me.”

“Actually, yes, it kind of is. I told you my ex’s father asked me who my fiancé was. I had to come up with someone. Quick.” She snapped her fingers in rapid succession. “I barely had a second to catch my breath, much less think before I spoke.”

“Y-yes…?”

“I just told him the first name I thought of.”

“Which was…?”

Matt’s phone rang, much to his irritation. His inclination had been to ignore it, but he couldn’t very well do that if it might be for Jen. He’d barely answered when his father’s voice boomed, “Just what are you thinking, getting a girl in trouble, planning a shotgun wedding and not even letting your own father know about it?”

To my Paige and Jack, and to the man who is a hero to us all, John.

Books by Elizabeth Harbison

Silhouette Romance

A Groom for Maggie #1239

Wife Without a Past #1258

Two Brothers and a Bride #1286

True Love Ranch #1323

*Emma and the Earl #1410

*Plain Jane Marries the Boss #1416

*Annie and the Prince #1423

*His Secret Heir #1528

A Pregnant Proposal #1553

ELIZABETH HARBISON

has been an avid reader for as long as she can remember. After devouring the Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden series in grade school, she moved on to the suspense of Mary Stewart, Dorothy Eden and Daphne du Maurier, just to name a few. From there is was a natural progression to writing, although early efforts have been securely hidden away in the back of a closet.

After authoring three cookbooks, Elizabeth turned her hand to writing romances and hasn’t looked back. Her second book for Silhouette Romance, Wife Without a Past, was a 1998 finalist for the Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA Award in the “Best Traditional Romance” category.

Elizabeth lives in Maryland with her husband, John, daughter, Mary Paige, and son, Jack, as well as two dogs, Bailey and Zuzu. She loves to hear from readers and you can write to her c/o Box 1636, Germantown, MD 20875.

KANE HALEY

Note to self: Who’s having my baby?

Trudy—hopeless romantic, office gossip, can’t keep a secret. If it’s not her, she might know who it is!

Lauren Connor—dates a lot, trying out new looks to impress her boss, was out sick with stomach flu. Hmm…

Sharon Davies—recently trapped in an elevator with a major client, blushes whenever he’s around, looking a little green lately. Could she be carrying my baby?

Leila—makes eyes at me. Is it more than a crush?

Maggie Steward—my personal assistant, wants children, clock is ticking. She would never go to a sperm bank!

Julia Parker—worries that her endometriosis could make her infertile. No man in her life. Definite sperm bank material!

Jennifer Martin—eight months pregnant. Is it her late fiancé’s baby? Is it mine?

WHEN THE LIGHTS WENT OUT…

A PREGNANT PROPOSAL

THE MAKEOVER TAKEOVER

LAST CHANCE FOR BABY

SHE’S HAVING MY BABY!

KANE HALEY, INC.

CHICAGO, IL

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

Prologue

“I’m sorry.” Jennifer Martin dabbed at her teary eyes with a tissue and tried to hold back a sob. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You don’t know what’s wrong?” her friend, Susan Bane, repeated incredulously. “Five weeks ago your fiancé died during a tête-à-tête in the Caribbean—with a married woman, no less—and you don’t know why you’re upset?”

Jen blew her nose and tried to get comfortable on the stiff leather couch Philip had insisted was more “elegant” than the cozy down one she’d preferred. It was one more thing to be irritated with him about, and that irritation with a dead man was one more thing to feel guilty about. Lately that was the way her emotions chased each other around; first anger, then sadness, then guilt.

“Okay,” Jen said, taking a bottle of antacids off the side table and popping one of them into her mouth. It tasted chalky and disgusting, but she forced it down. “Obviously I have things to be upset about, but lately I’ve been just sobbing at the drop of a hat and it’s never for one clear reason. It seems to be getting worse, not better.”

Susan leaned over from her chair and patted Jen’s forearm, concern etched in her features. “Honey, I had no idea it was still so bad. Do you want me to stay here with you for a few days?”

Jen managed a smile. “Thanks, but I don’t think it would make much difference. Besides, the kids need you at home.” She blew her nose. “I’ll just wait it out and hope it gets better.”

“Have you thought about getting professional help?”

Jen waved the idea away with her hand.

Susan persisted. “All right, then, maybe just some straight talk from a friend. I don’t want to sound disrespectful, but Philip isn’t worth a nervous breakdown. It’s awful that he died, of course, but for Pete’s sake, it happened because his lover tossed her silk robe on one of the forty candles he had lit in the bridal suite at some St. Thomas No-Tell Hotel when he told you that he was in Boston on business. He was not a nice guy. No matter what the reason, you’re better off not being married to him.”

Jen pressed her lips together and nodded. “I agree. Knowing what I do now, he wasn’t good husband material.” She didn’t add that she was downright relieved that she wasn’t married to him.

Susan snorted. “He wasn’t nearly good enough for you. I never thought he was.”

“That’s funny, his parents never thought I was good enough for him. I guess a working girl from Michigan wasn’t what they had in mind for an up-and-coming Chicago uberlawyer. His father’s firm is all about image, and I didn’t fit it. They all drive the same kind of car. The same color even.” She shook her head. “I didn’t fit in with the blue, luxury station wagon wives.”

“See? So you’re better off without them, too.” Susan gave a sympathetic smile and added gently, “You have to put it all behind you and move on.”

“That’s just it,” Jen said, as tears burned her eyes again. She impatiently whipped a tissue out of the box next to her and held it against her eyes for a moment. “I don’t even think it’s Philip or what would have been our marriage that’s got me so upset. I don’t know what it is.” She reached for the antacids again and shook two more into her hand.

Susan watched her closely, then asked, “What’s with you and the Tums?”

Jen sniffed and shrugged. “I’ve had the worst heartburn lately.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s probably from being upset all the time.”

Susan appeared to consider that for a moment, then nodded. “That makes sense. More proof that you need to get this under control. How about a glass of wine?”

Jen made a face. “I’m not particularly in the mood, but maybe it would help me sleep tonight.”

“Like you need help sleeping,” Susan said with a laugh as she got up. She went to the kitchen and took two wineglasses off the rack. “Matt said he saw you slumped over a pile of papers at your desk yesterday.”

“Oh, no, he saw me?” She imagined herself sleeping, mouth agape, perhaps even drooling, and cringed. “Why didn’t he wake me up?”

Susan popped the cork out of a bottle of merlot. “He said you looked so peaceful he couldn’t bear to wake you. Figured you needed sleep, so he closed the blinds and left you alone.”

“So that’s who closed the blinds! Good lord, I thought I was going nuts.” It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d done something and forgotten about it lately. In the past couple of weeks, she’d even had momentary lapses where she got lost halfway to work.

“Stress can certainly make you feel like you’re going nuts.”

“You can say that again.” She sighed, and pushed her thick auburn hair out of her eyes. “I can’t believe Matt saw me like that. Did he say anything else? Was I snoring?”

Susan handed her a glass and took a sip from her own. “Yeah. And drooling. It sounded hideous.” She laughed. “Come on, you know Matt wouldn’t say if you were.”

“I guess not.” Truth was, she barely knew Matt Holder. As the Director of Human Resources at Kane Haley, Incorporated, his path rarely crossed that of Jen, who was the Benefits Manager. His office was on the 16th floor, hers was on the 14th. Until a few months ago, he was only a face she’d seen from afar. An attractive face, to be sure—with short, wavy dark hair, warm hazel eyes and a crooked smile that transformed his whole face—but not someone she dealt with much. “But still, he went around telling people I fell asleep on the job.”

“He didn’t tell ‘people,”’ Susan said. “He told me, and that was only because he was worried about you. In fact, he was quite worried about you.”

What little indignation Jen had been able to work up deflated instantly. Matt was a great guy and she knew it. When one of Susan’s kids had broken a leg, Matt had come to her rescue, covering a huge chunk of her work and making sure she was able to spend as much time at home with little Margaret as she needed to without penalty. He’d never mentioned to anyone that Susan was missing work. He wasn’t the kind of guy who would go spreading ugly talk about anyone. “No one needs to worry about me.”

“Well, we’re going to anyway. Face it, Jen, you’re cursed with friends who care.”

Jen’s chest began to ache, and a now-familiar burn touched her eyes. “Thanks.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “See what I mean? Everything makes me cry these days.” She picked up her glass of wine and took a sip. It tasted bitter, and burned her throat. She set the glass down as a wave of cold washed over her.

“You’re clearly on an emotional roller coaster,” she heard Susan say, but before she could respond, her stomach lurched.

“I’m going to be sick,” Jen said.

“You’re going to be fine, Jen, it’s just going to take some time to—”

“No, I’m going to be sick. Now!” She leapt from her seat and ran to the bathroom, making it just in time.

When she came out again, Susan had cleared away the wineglasses and had put some graham crackers on a plate for Jen. “Here. These will help. Do you have any soda?”

Jen put a hand to her clammy forehead. “No. I wish I did.”

“Then I’m going to run out and get you some right now. Along with a pregnancy test.”

“A pregnancy test? What are you talking about?”

“Your emotions are swinging wildly, you’re chomping antacids like candy and a sip of wine sends you running for the bathroom. I’ve been pregnant two times and the signs are pretty unmistakable.”

Jen sat down on the cold leather couch and leaned her head back. “It’s not possible. I was using birth control.”

“Which you missed for a couple of days when you and Philip went to St. Louis. Remember?”

Jen frowned. “That’s true.”

“Well, something like that can alter your fertility all month, even if you did double up on the pills for a couple of days when you got home.”

“I’ve heard that, of course. I just wasn’t…thinking.” Something gnawed at Jen’s heart. Was it dread? Or hope? Whatever it was, she dismissed it immediately. “But I had my period a couple of weeks ago.”

Susan raised an eyebrow. “Was it normal?”

She thought for a moment. “Actually, it was really light,” she admitted slowly, but her mind raced. Was it truly possible? “Oh, dear lord, do you honestly think…?”

“Do you have to pee every five minutes?”

“At least.”

“Does the smell of smoke or perfume make you feel sick?”

Come to think of it, she had been more sensitive to smells lately. “In a big way.”

Susan gave a short nod. “I’m getting you a test.”

Jen swallowed hard, but it did nothing to dislodge the lump in her throat. “Hurry.”

Chapter One

Seven months later

Jen woke to the sound of the door buzzer at 7:00 a.m. First she rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, hoping it had been her imagination, but it sounded again. And again. She pulled herself up awkwardly and slipped a robe around her ripe form.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she called, stumbling across the still-dark living room of her apartment. She got to the door and put her hand on the chain lock. “Who’s there?”

“It’s Abigail Sedgewick,” a voice answered, without a trace of apology for the early intrusion. “Philip’s mother.”

As if Jen wouldn’t remember who Abigail Sedgewick was. In the weeks following Philip’s death, she’d had quite a bit of contact with Abigail and her husband, Dutch. They demanded every remnant of Philip that was in Jen’s apartment, from clothing to tie clips to tweezers. They had even taken the engagement ring that Philip had bought for Jen. Everything had “sentimental value” they said, never asking Jen if anything had sentimental value for her.

As it turned out, almost nothing did because her memories of him were colored almost daily with new revelations about his character. Philip, it seemed, had enjoyed many, many liaisons with women—mostly married women—during his engagement to Jen. There were so many gold-ringed weeping women in black at his funeral it had looked like a convent.

Jen leaned heavily against the door and said a short prayer for strength. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Sedgewick?”

“You could open the door, dear, rather than leave me standing in the hall,” came the terse reply.

Jen opened the door a crack and looked out at the perfectly manicured and coiffed woman before her. “I’m not really dressed yet—”

“Not dressed? At 7:00 a.m.?” The look of disapproval was unmistakable. “Most people are already on their way to work by now.”

“I don’t have to be there until nine and it’s only ten minutes—” She stopped herself. She didn’t owe Abigail Sedgewick an explanation for anything. “What can I do for you, Abigail?” The name didn’t trip easily off Jen’s tongue; the older woman had never suggested she call her anything but her formal title.

“It’s about Philip’s tennis racket.”

My God. Has something happened to it? Jen squelched the sarcastic response. “His tennis racket?”

“I believe you have it here,” she said, an unmistakable accusation dripping from her words. “We need it back. It isn’t yours, you know, and it has great sentimental value to his father and myself.”

Jen couldn’t imagine that the sentimental value was that great since it had been seven months since he’d passed away, and they’d never mentioned it before. On top of that, it was November—hardly tennis season, although the Sedgewicks’ club undoubtedly had indoor courts. “I wasn’t trying to steal it,” Jen said. “He left it here when—”

“Do you know where it is?” Abigail interrupted. “Or should I wait while you search for it?”

As it happened, Jen did have the tennis racket and she knew just where it was because she’d used it a couple of weeks earlier to smooth a new border along the wallpaper of the nursery. Giving in with a sigh, she pulled her robe as closely around her as she could and opened the door. “Come on in, I’ll get it from the back room.”

Abigail took a single step over the threshold and waited as Jen walked down the hall to the small storage room she was converting into a nursery. She picked up the racket, scratched some wallpaper glue off the handle, and took it back to the door where Abigail stood waiting.

“Here you go,” Jen said, stifling a yawn. “Is there anything else?”

There was no answer.

“Is there anything else?” she asked again, then, with a start, realized the reason for Abigail’s silence.

She was staring at Jen’s belly.

“…and heaven knows how long Jennifer Martin’s going to be out when she has that baby. She doesn’t have a husband to help take over the work at home, you know. We need to start at least three temps on staff right away, to do whatever grunt work they possibly can, freeing others to help with Jen’s workload. And if I were you, Matt, I’d make sure at least one of them is interested in staying on permanently and learning the ropes. Jennifer might not be back.”

Matt Holder frowned. “What do you mean she might not be back?” he asked his assistant, Leila, sharply.

“She’s single?” Kane Haley asked before Leila could answer Matt.

“This is the brunette in Benefits, right?”

“She’s the Benefits Manager,” Matt told him, then turned back to Leila. “Why do you say she might not be back? Did she say something to you?”

“I thought she was married,” Kane went on, making it sound as if that was as important as whether or not she returned to her job.

“She was engaged but her fiancé died,” Leila explained. “She didn’t tell anyone she was pregnant until months afterwards.”

“Leila,” Matt said firmly. “Answer me.”

“How many months afterwards?” Kane wanted to know. His dark brown eyes were sharp with interest.

Matt looked at him incredulously. “Kane, man, what’s with the sudden interest in your employees’ private lives?”

Kane looked momentarily chagrined then said to Matt, “You know as well as anyone that the health of a company depends on the health and happiness of its employees.” He raised an eyebrow. “I assume that’s why you are also so intent on whether Jennifer is staying with the company.”

Matt didn’t give a hoot about the company as compared with Jen’s health and happiness, but he wasn’t about to admit it to Kane and Leila. “I’m concerned with any possible changes to the staff,” he dodged.

Kane gave the merest hint of a smile. “Very concerned, it appears. I’m glad to see it.” He turned back to Leila. “Matt was asking about Jennifer’s plans for her future with the company. What do you know about that?”

Leila blushed, and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Well, with her being alone and all, I heard that she might find work that she can do at home.”

“Day care is a concern for several of the women here,” Kane murmured, then asked Matt. “Have you done any research about that? What do you think about having it on-site?”

“I think it can work,” Matt said. He’d been mulling over the idea for a few weeks now, since Kane had first mentioned the possibility. “I’ve run some preliminary numbers and I think it would ultimately save the company a considerable sum. Not to mention the fact that it would foster that sense of well-being you were just advocating for employees.” He smiled.

Kane smiled back. “My thoughts exactly. Where do you propose setting it up?”

“In the offices on the 15th floor that are currently housing old computers and parts. We could donate the hardware to a local seniors’ center, take a nice tax deduction, and turn the rooms into a day-care center.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”

“Everything except the reality of it. I still need to talk to the parents here, find out what their needs are and determine whether we can provide them.” Jen would be the perfect one to talk to, in fact.

“Do it,” Kane said. “Give me a detailed report, include the pros and the cons, and we’ll see what we can do.”

“You got it.”

Kane nodded. “Also, I want four temps brought in to pick up the slack. I have a feeling things are going to be pretty volatile around here for a while.” He stood up and gave Matt a thump on the shoulder. “Keep up the good work.”

“Thanks, Kane.” He watched Kane go and turned back to Leila. “Did Jen tell you that herself?”

Leila’s eyes were fixed on Kane as he exited. She was like a teenager with a crush. Half the women in the office were like that over Kane. “What?” she asked, distractedly.

“Jen Martin. Did she tell you that she might not stay with the company?”

Leila turned back to him and shook her head. “I just heard it through the grapevine. Kane’s right, you do seem awfully concerned about her.”

He wasn’t going to dignify that implication with an answer. He stood up. “If it has to do with staff changes, I’m concerned. I’m going to go see what she has to say about this herself.” He started out the door. “Print out that report on absenteeism and office day care.”

“Okay. Should I send your calls to Jen’s office?”

“Take messages,” Matt tossed over his shoulder.

He punched the elevator button and stood back, impatiently tapping his foot. He didn’t see much of Jen at work, but he’d be awfully sorry if she left. There was just something nice about having her around. He’d miss seeing her face. He pushed the elevator button again. Maybe, if she was considering leaving, the day-care center would convince her to stay.

Finally the elevator doors opened and Susan Bane stepped out.

“Is Jen in her office?” he asked, without preamble.

Susan nodded. “I just saw her. Why?”

“I just need to talk to her for a minute.”

“Well, you’d better hurry, she’ll be gone soon.”

“What do you mean?” he asked sharply.

Susan looked surprised. “She was getting ready to go to lunch.”

“Oh.” Relief. “Maybe I can catch her.”

“Watch out.” Susan laughed. “Lately, if Jen wants to eat, you’d better stay out of the way.”

He smiled and the doors began to close. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

When he got to her office, Jen was indeed on her way out. She already had her coat and scarf on. In one mittened hand she held a doughnut, and, as she tried to close her office door, her keys slipped out of the other.

Matt swooped in and bent down to pick them up for her. “Hey,” he said, handing her the key chain.

Her face flushed prettily, making her green eyes sparkle even more than usual. “Hey,” she said back. “Thanks. What are you doing down here?”

“I came to see you, actually.”

“Me?”

“Yes, can you spare a few minutes?” Honestly, he’d never seen such a beautiful example of the “bloom of pregnancy.” Jen had it in spades.

“Now?”

“Unless you’re in too much of a hurry.”

She shrugged. “I was just going to go home and eat. No biggie.”

“How about I take you to Slates for lunch?”

“Slates,” she repeated, with a raise of her brows. “What’s the occasion?”

“I need to have a talk with you.”

Her face paled. “You’re not firing me, are you? I know I’m going to need some time off, but—”

“No, Jen, no.” He was so touched by her unexpected show of vulnerability that he wanted to take her into his arms. “Actually, I want to pick your brain about childcare. Kane’s interested in putting a center on-site for you and the other parents here.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “That would be a godsend.”

“Great. Let’s go, then. Maybe we can hammer out enough of the details to get something started.”

Jen heaved her purse up onto her shoulder. “So whose idea was the day care? Yours?”

He shook his head. “I’d like to take credit, but it was Kane’s idea.”

She looked surprised. “No kidding?”

“No kidding.”

“Wow. He’s really been softening up lately. I saw him about ten minutes ago and he seemed unusually interested in how I’m feeling. I didn’t even know he knew who I was.”