And Baby Makes Six

He pulled her to him and tipped up her chin. And kissed her.

She forgot resistance, reserve and all her careful plans. She sensed the breadth of his shoulders and chest, his sheer masculinity. She breathed in a combination of the spicy scent of the cologne he must have put on this morning and the clean sweat from his just-completed workout. Man, that scent said. And everything about her hormone-driven body shrieked woman.

“Dad, Dad.” A pounding of feet on the stairs and through the front hall.

Abruptly Mitch broke the kiss. “Stay here,” he whispered. He took a few long strides to the door and vanished from sight. She heard muffled voices—Mitch’s and those of his sons.

Jenny smoothed her blouse. Her hands were shaking. It was a good thing the kids had come home just then.

A very good thing, because if Mitch meant what she thought he meant…

He doesn’t want to marry you, for heaven’s sake. He’s talking about starting a relationship. As in dating.

But she couldn’t date him. What Mitch didn’t realize was that he was kissing a woman who was pregnant with another man’s baby.

Dear Reader,

All my life I’ve been surrounded by the male point of view. I had two brothers—no sisters. When I was a kid, my dad and brothers would sit around the dinner table and talk sports, sports, sports. My mom and I would look at each other and roll our eyes.

Then my career put me squarely into the male world. In the late seventies and early eighties, women were just beginning to enter the legal profession in significant numbers. And trial law—my choice—wasn’t a popular specialty among women lawyers at that time.

My household now consists of males: one sweetheart of a husband and a wonderful son who will be a teenager soon.

So I think I know something about men. And I like men. I like the differences between us and them. I like the male protectiveness, their focus, their pride, their loyalty…and their struggles to “understand women.” I like how they laugh, how they tease, how they kiss.

I hope you do, too, and that you get a kick out of Mitch and his rowdy household of boys. I loved writing this story, as man’s man Mitch struggles to deal with one little girl and one feminine woman. One very pregnant feminine woman…

Linda Markowiak

P.S. I love to hear from readers. Please write to me c/o Harlequin Enterprises Limited or e-mail me at lindamarkowiak@superauthors.com.

And Baby Makes Six

Linda Markowiak

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

MITCH OLIVER WAS FAST on his feet, could face down a two-hundred-and-sixty-pound bully, give a glib talk on national television and handle being a hometown hero with class.

So he certainly shouldn’t be scared of an eight-year-old girl.

Remember, she’s got to be a lot more scared than you are, pal.

The social worker went ahead of him down the hallway to the office. It was here that he’d sign the final papers, and bring Crystal home with him.

The funny thing was, his niece hadn’t cried much when they’d had her mother’s funeral yesterday. Mitch had thought he’d have to do more…comforting somehow, but…the kid had just sat there with that Litton woman, staring straight ahead. And afterward she’d hardly said a word to Mitch.

It had been that way over dinner last night, too. The only person the child had talked to was Jenny Litton, who hadn’t had too much to say to Mitch, either.

The social worker paused at the closed door to her office.

Mitch said, “It’s just that it took me so long to get here.” Seeing the look of puzzlement in the woman’s eyes, he clarified. “It would have been better for Crystal if I’d got here sooner. I could have helped with something. Made…you know, arrangements. The funeral.” After all, his own wife, Anne, had died four years ago. He knew there was a lot to do, sad decisions, kids’ tears to wipe.

That thought got him back to Crystal and those dry eyes of hers.

Alma Winters sighed. “I don’t know, Mr. Oliver. Miss Litton took care of everything. I mean, I don’t know if a day or two earlier would have made any difference.”

“Mitch. Please call me Mitch.” He’d told her that a couple of times now, but he knew people were more formal down here.

He’d never visited his baby sister in South Carolina. He’d never been close to Kathy, even though she was the only family he had anymore outside of his kids. In fact, he’d only seen Crystal once. About six years ago Kathy had made a short visit to Ohio. He and Kathy had loved each other, he guessed. But he’d already been on the road by the time she’d hit junior high, and as an adult she’d always lived so far away…In fact, he’d seen little of Kathy even before her young husband died and she’d moved to South Carolina to raise Crystal alone. A sense of loss filled him. His baby sister was gone and he hadn’t really known her. Now he wouldn’t have the chance. His memories were from long ago, childhood ones. Armloads of lilacs, Kathy going out to the big old bush by the pond and picking more than she could carry up the hill.

He raked a hand through his hair. No use in sugar-coating it. He’d been too busy for his kid sister, and now it was too late.

Once he’d been too busy for them all—playing professional hockey, managing his endorsements and his investments. He’d become a rich man, but he’d missed out on family life. Four years ago he’d made a promise that that would change.

“If we hadn’t been camping so far out, and if I hadn’t had to make an unscheduled stop in Memphis, I would have been here sooner.” Mitch stopped. He had to quit explaining.

The older woman smiled at him, her eyes warm black-brown, her skin a shiny mahogany. “You can’t help the fog. It’s like that on Hilton Head. It’s an island. We get fog.”

Kathy had liked the South Carolina island for the warm climate and proximity to the seashore. Crystal had a real southern drawl that made her seem even more strange to him.

“I’ll do my best with Crystal,” he promised suddenly.

The social worker sighed. “I believe you. But it’s always a sorry time when a baby’s momma dies. Fortunately, she’s had Miss Litton. Miss Litton has been a good friend, done the right thing by taking Crystal in and arranging for Kathy’s funeral. I want you to remember that.” Her eyes crinkled with kindness even as she hesitated. “Look, Mr. Oliver—”

“Mitch.”

“Mitch. Thank you. Mitch, I need to tell you something before you go in there. Crystal keeps saying she doesn’t want to go with you.”

Ah, hell. The greasy breakfast he’d eaten went sour in his stomach. “She doesn’t even know me.”

The social worker put a light hand on his arm. “Right. I understand that. She needs to give you a chance.”

He swallowed. “What if she isn’t in the mood to, ah, give me a chance?” He needed to know exactly what he was up against.

“Try not to worry too much. Just take her home, ease into things.”

“I’m good at going with the flow.”

She smiled again. “Listen to her, maybe try to do things in your home that will make her feel welcome. Your sister named you guardian in her will, and you’re the only close family Crystal has. Her father died about eight years ago, and his parents were never really involved with Kathy or Crystal. In fact, I gather they’re relieved to have you handle the situation.” There was a slight pause. “We’ll have a social worker in Ohio stop in and do a couple of quick checks of your household, but it’s just a formality, really.”

“A formality?”

She hesitated again, and Mitch got impatient. “Just break it to me. What are you trying to say here?”

Alma Winters touched him on the arm again. “All right. Jennifer Litton has raised the issue of whether you’re the proper person to care for Crystal. That’s why we’re having an Ohio social worker check. You see, Miss Litton was under the impression that Kathy’s will named her guardian.”

Mitch stared at her, bewildered. He and Kathy might not have been close, but they’d stayed in touch. She hadn’t trusted him to care for her daughter?

The social worker said, “Miss Litton claims Kathy had mentioned changing her will a couple of times.”

“Well, she never did it, did she?”

“No, she never did. Look, I’m a southerner, and nobody believes in family like a southerner does. You’re blood. You’re kin. But you have a lot of responsibility. It’s not too late to change your mind. If you can’t see your way to providing a home for your niece, Miss Litton would—”

“No. I believe in family, too.” He looked her directly in the eye.

There was a second’s pause. Then she said, “Ready to take your niece home?”

“Sure.” Crystal was just a little kid. A little girl.

A little…girl. He stepped through the door Alma Winters held open.

Crystal was sitting on a chair by the window. She wore her hair long and wavy, and was dressed in shorts that made a yellow bib kind of thing over a T-shirt. Sandals on her feet, those feet swinging up and down as if she were on an imaginary swing. Mitch’s sons’ legs were full of scars, scratches, insect bites in the summer, but his niece’s weren’t. A scrap of a cat, as orange as her hair, lay curled in her lap. A cat so small his dog, Face-off, was likely to have it for lunch and then look for more.

She was just a little kid.

His gaze was caught by the blonde who stood with a hand on his niece’s shoulder. Jennifer—Jenny—Litton. Miss Jenny Litton was real pretty, like some high-class southern belle right out of an old movie. He’d had trouble not looking at her last night at dinner. He glanced away now. After all, he was used to looking—and then not looking—at attractive women.

He addressed himself to his niece. “Hi, Crystal.”

Her legs swung higher. The kitten woke up and stretched.

“We’re going home today. On the airplane, remember? You haven’t ever been on a plane.”

Those bare legs kept swinging. He clenched a fist in his pocket, painfully conscious of the social worker behind him, and the silent woman next to Crystal. The pretty, uppity woman Kathy might have preferred to him to raise her kid.

“You’re going to like it in Ohio. We talked about it last night. We live in an old farmhouse and we do a lot of fun stuff, like sports. In the spring, you can use that mitt and baseball I got you last Christmas.”

The cat turned to stare at him.

Jenny spoke for the first time. “Crystal doesn’t like sports.”

“Oh.”

“Kathy used to say you were a big hockey star. Rich and famous.” There was no admiration in her voice. That voice was low and feminine, and she drew out the syllables until she sounded as southern as fried chicken and biscuits. Mitch frowned. No, not fried chicken. More like a cool glass of iced tea.

He wasn’t a big hockey star anymore, and he wasn’t that famous anywhere outside of North Shore, Ohio, these days, but his sporting-goods store, Serious Gear, was doing well and he didn’t have to answer to this woman.

Belatedly, Mrs. Winters came forward. “Crystal, maybe you’ll learn to enjoy baseball, and here you are with your own mitt and ball.”

Her voice was so falsely cheerful that even Mitch winced.

Crystal shrugged, and her movement must’ve startled the cat. It leaped to the floor. “Jewels,” she called and scrambled down after it.

But Jenny was quicker. She took a couple of steps and bent to keep the cat from scurrying away. “Here, Crystal. Your baby landed on its feet.” Jenny ran her fingers down the kitten’s head and back, her long, polished nails scratching behind its ears. The cat set up a purr so loud even Mitch could hear it.

The floor was dusty, but she got down on her knees despite those expensive-looking silky stockings she wore, and petted the tiny animal. Crystal sat beside her. Jenny stroked along the kitten’s backbone, and its hind end came up as her fingers reached it, its skinny tail in the air like a flagpole. Crystal turned and looked up at Mitch. “My momma named him Jewels because I’m Crystal.”

Huh? Well, at least she was talking to him. “Ah, that’s a good name. For a cat. Jules.” He tried harder. “He’s a cute cat.”

“He’s a she.”

Jules was a weird name for a girl cat, but Mitch decided to let it go. He said, “Okay, a she then.”

But he must have said something wrong, because his niece turned then to Jenny. “Do I have to go with him, Miss Jenny?”

Jenny’s fingers on the cat stilled. In her position on her knees, her jacket was hiked up a notch, showing the fullness of her curves beneath. The fact that he noticed so…intently made him more uncomfortable than ever. Maybe he should have been the one to get down on the floor. But somehow today he had a hockey stick for a spine, and so he stood there like an idiot, looking down at them both.

“Well, then,” he said to Jenny when the silence got so long he couldn’t stand it. “We’ll pick up Crystal’s suitcase and be on our way a little early. The plane leaves in a few hours.”

A really heavy silence fell over the room. Mitch finally added, “I want to thank you for helping out until I could get here.” He really was grateful for that part. He tried a smile on her, though nothing about her manner encouraged one. “You…did a good job. You had things Kathy would have wanted. I knew she liked lilacs. She always did.”

Emotion flickered in Jenny’s eyes for the barest second, so quickly that he almost missed it. But he knew in that moment that his sister had meant a lot to this woman.

Crystal had been scratching the cat. Now she looked up from the floor. “I want to stay with Miss Jenny,” she whispered.

Oh, hell.

Instinctively now, he squatted. At his movement, the cat leaped up in the air and took off. Crystal jerked, wrapping herself around Jenny. Jenny hugged her, whispered something into her ear that Mitch couldn’t catch.

The social worker cleared her throat. “Your uncle is family, sweetie. He lives in a big house in Ohio, which is a very nice place to live, and you’ll have four cousins.” She spread her hands helplessly. “He loves you. He told me so.”

Mitch had told her that, over the phone when he’d got the shocking news of his sister’s death in an auto accident. Had that only been two days ago? Saying he loved his niece wasn’t really a lie. He was sure he would love her…just as soon as he got to know her.

Jenny gently disengaged from Crystal and stood. “Why don’t you find your kitty and see if she’s hungry? You know how hungry she gets, and how much she relies on you to take care of her.” Surprising Mitch again, she pulled a little plastic bag of cat treats from the pocket of that yellow outfit.

“Can we talk?” It was Jenny Litton again, her eyebrow raised in polite inquiry.

He nodded, out of his league. He wanted to do what was best for Crystal.

Jenny stroked Crystal’s hair. “Will you be all right with Mrs. Winters for a while? Just for a minute? I need to talk to your uncle Mitch.”

“Do I have to go with him?” she said, her eyes filling with tears.

Jenny hesitated.

Mrs. Winters said, “Sweetie, we’ve talked about this.”

Mitch seized on a sudden inspiration as the kitten munched on a cat treat. “I have a dog at home.”

A flicker of interest crossed his niece’s face.

“And ponies.”

“Ponies are big.” She frowned.

Mitch figured it was best not to mention that Face-off was about as big as one of the ponies. “I also have a hamster, and some fish. They aren’t big.”

Crystal no longer looked as ready to burst into tears as she had a moment ago. He was just mentally congratulating himself when Jenny Litton motioned him toward the door.

He got to his feet, too, but thought about not following her. He was in no mood to be ragged on for not being a better brother. But the alternative was for her to speak her mind in front of his niece, so he followed her out. The hallway was hot—the air conditioner in the social worker’s office didn’t cool the air out here. Hard to believe it was October.

Jenny motioned him toward the window, out of the way of the few passersby. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said politely. “Kathy—” She stopped and moistened her lips, and Mitch realized she wasn’t as cool about this whole situation as she pretended to be. “I was your sister’s best friend.”

“Like I said, I appreciate your handling the funeral.” He’d been camping with his sons in Colorado, when he’d got the news of Kathy’s death. It had taken a while to get to an airport and book the kids on a flight home with nineteen-year-old Luke in charge.

She smoothed back her already-smooth hair. The sun caught a little gleam from her round gold earrings. She had a nice chin and dainty ears—don’t look.

She said, “From what I know about you, your life is pretty complicated. Like you said at dinner last night, you’re a widower. You have three teenage boys and an eleven-year-old. I can make things easy for you. I’m prepared to take custody of Crystal today. She’ll have a good home, and your conscience will be clear.”

“I’m her uncle.”

“Crystal doesn’t know you. And quite honestly, Kathy didn’t talk about you much. As far as I know, you never came for a visit.”

Guilt pinched him. “I didn’t have time.”

Her chin tilted in a sort of southern belle arrogance. “You didn’t have time?”

“No. I didn’t.”

“What makes you think you’ll have time now?”

“I’ll make time”

“I have the time. I live alone—” Abruptly, she bit her lip.

“Crystal is my family.”

“She doesn’t want to come with you.”

“As you said, that’s because she doesn’t know me. Yet. She’s family. I’m sorry if you had…plans to keep her. I don’t know how much time you actually spent with Crystal—”

“I’ve known her for three years. I’ve baby-sat. I’ve spent days at the beach with both Kathy and Crystal. I’ve had dinner at their house—I’ve had them over to mine. We’ve rented videos—I got her Mulan last week. Your interaction with Crystal was to send her a ball and glove that she’s never used.” Though her voice was carefully polite, he heard the criticism in it.

He told himself not to react—either to her tone or the fact that she knew a lot more about Crystal than he did. There must be a book or something out there on how to raise little girls.

She looked him full in the eye. “Kathy intended to change her will.”

“But she didn’t. Or are you going to try to prove in court that she did?”

Her mouth went slack. There was a long pause. “No,” she said softly, so softly it was almost a whisper. “Not now…” Her voice trailed off.

He was going to win. Suddenly, on what should have been a surge of satisfaction, Mitch felt like a bully. Jenny Litton cared about his niece and she knew about little girls. Mitch only knew about raising boys. On top of that, Crystal liked her.

“Look, I…” He shut his mouth before he could admit his insecurities aloud. “Listen, you don’t have to like me. But think of Crystal. It’s obvious she trusts you. If you tell her things will be okay with me, I think she’ll feel better.”

She shifted her little purse from one hand to the other, and there was a long, uncomfortable pause. “She loves the kitten. You’re going to let her keep her kitten, aren’t you?”

“Of course. I’m not a jerk, no matter what you think.”

She flushed a very becoming pink, a wash of color on her perfect, pale skin. “I can help you take her to the airport.”

He was impressed. The woman was a good loser. “Thanks.”

“I’m doing this for Crystal. Not for you. I mean—”

“I know exactly what you mean.”

She blushed harder. “I’ll give her my phone number. She can call me anytime. Collect.”

“She doesn’t need to call collect.”

“Collect,” she said firmly.

Whatever. “Okay. That sounds like a plan. Let’s go.” He turned to head back into the office to break the news to Crystal.

He held the door to the office open. As she passed by him on her way inside, she whispered, “Listen. If I hear there’s a problem, either from Crystal or the social worker in Ohio, I’ll be on the next flight to come and get that little girl. And believe me, if I have to, I’ll take you to court and fight you for her.”

They were almost in the office. She added, “I’m only giving her up because my lawyer and Mrs. Winters are telling me that’s what I have to do. But it won’t take much to push me into changing my mind.”

Her voice was soft, a drawling whisper, like a slow fall into dusk on a hot summer night. But her words were fighting words, and he respected that. “I wouldn’t have expected anything else, Miss Jennifer Litton.”

JENNY LITTON HAD BEEN true to her word, talking with Crystal, hugging her, reassuring her. If she resented Mitch, she didn’t show it in front of the girl.

When they were finally on the plane, Mitch let out a long breath of relief. So far, so good. There had been one bad moment when Crystal had discovered that her cat had to ride in the cargo area. But there’d been no crying from the little girl, which would have been bad, because then Jenny would have looked at him in that prissy, judgmental way.

But he didn’t like how quiet Crystal was now as she looked out the window of the plane. His kids always crowded around, making jokes about how small the cars down below looked, and talked loudly and happily about the prospect of aircraft trouble. This kid just sat there.

“Can you see the clouds?” he asked.

She didn’t answer. She didn’t even shrug.

“The trees looked real green when we took off. All pines, like Christmas trees, and now we’re so high we can’t see them at all.”

Nothing. Her head was turned away; he couldn’t read her expression.

O-kay. He was getting a little desperate when he had a sudden thought. “I’ll buy you a dog.”

She turned to him. “A dog of my own?”

“Sure.” Although he was elated that she’d spoken at last, he groaned inside. Another dog. Yeah, that was sure an inducement to get a housekeeper to stay more than a week.

Crystal said, “When you get me my dog, I want one of those with a ball of fur on its head and little balls on her ankles.”

That stumped Mitch for a second. Then he said, “A poodle?”

She wrinkled her nose, thinking. “Yeah, a poodle. A white one, one of those little ones. The real tiny kind.”

“Ah, honey? I think you might want a bigger kind of dog. Our house is sort of rowdy—”

She got a fierce frown on her face, and he stopped.

An awkward silence fell. Mitch searched desperately for things to say. She’d put on a pair of jeans, and sneakers had replaced the sandals in preparation for the colder Ohio weather. But even in these clothes she seemed small and frail.

They traveled in silence, and by the time they landed, Mitch felt so uncomfortable his throat ached. Maybe he should have left her with Jenny Litton.

No! He’d make this work, he wouldn’t take the easy way. Never again. He’d promised Anne he’d take care of everyone, and that meant taking care of them all.

Luke had used Mitch’s Jeep to take his brothers home from the airport. So Mitch rented a car for the short ride. As they climbed the hill to his house, he said, “There’s where you’re going to live.”