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Cover Page
Excerpt
Dear Reader
Title Page
Dedication
About the Author
The Facts of Life According to Brandy Conner, Age Six
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Copyright
“Just a kiss? You’re this upset about a kiss?”
Maggie’s best friend, Emma, questioned.
“It’s not just that,” Maggie countered. “I don’t know. He was opening up to me and then, boom, down came the shutters.”
“You’re in love with him,” she stated.
Maggie laughed sharply. “Right,” she said sarcastically.
“And he’s falling in love with you, too,” Emma continued.
“Now I know you’re completely over the edge,” she replied.
“I want you to be happy, that’s all. I’m just mad I can’t claim any responsibility for this. I wanted to be the one to introduce you to your future husband.”
“Future husband?” Maggie cried. “If I ever did decide to get married, it sure wouldn’t be to Ryan Conner!”
Emma just smiled with a self-satisfied air.
Dear Reader,
In Arlene James’s Desperately Seeking Daddy, a harried, single working mom of three feels like Cinderella at the ball when Jack Tyler comes into her life. He wins over her kids, charms her mother and sets straight her grumpy boss. He’s the FABULOUS FATHER of her kids’ dreams—and the husband of hers!
Although the BUNDLE OF JOY in Amelia Varden’s arms is not her natural child, she’s loved the baby boy from birth. And now one man has come to claim her son—and her heart—in reader favorite Elizabeth August’s The Rancher and the Baby.
Won’t You Be My Husband? begins Linda Valuer’s trilogy HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS, in which a woman ends up engaged to be married after a ten-minute reunion with a bad-boy hunk!
What’s a smitten bookkeeper to do when her gorgeous boss asks her to be his bride—even for convenience? Run down the aisle!…in DeAnna Talcott’s The Bachelor and the Bassinet.
In Pat Montana’s Storybook Bride, tight-lipped rancher Kody Sanville’s been called a half-breed his whole life and doesn’t believe in storybook anything. So why can’t he stop dreaming of being loved by Becca Covington?
Suzanne McMinn makes her debut with Make Room for Mommy, in which a single woman with motherhood and marriage on her mind falls for a single dad who isn’t at all interested in saying “I do”…or so he thinks!
From classic love stories, to romantic comedies to emotional heart tuggers, Silhouette Romance offers six wonderful new novels each month by six talented authors. I hope you enjoy all six books this month—and every month.
Regards,
Melissa Senate,
Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609. Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
Make Room for Mommy
Suzanne McMinn
www.millsandboon.co.uk
For my big sister, Celeste—if it hadn’t been for all those times you locked me in the kitchen pantry as a child, I probably never would have developed my imagination!
SUZANNE McMINN
lives by the lake in a small Texas town. She knew she wanted to be a writer by age five and set her sights on romance novels when she was twelve. She fulfills her dream of writing while enjoying her wonderful husband, young children and assorted dogs and cats. She loves to hear from readers and can be reached at P.O. Box 12, Granbury, TX 76048.
The Facts of Life According to Brandy Conner, Age Six
I know not everybody can have a mom. And I’m real lucky, ‘cause I’ve got the world’s best dad. But he’s so grumpy sometimes—’specially when Maggie Wells comes over. She’s my grown-up friend from the community center. She is so neat.
One of my friends says that boys act dumb sometimes when they like you. So I was thinking, what if Daddy likes Maggie? It would be so great if Maggie could live with us, like a real mom. Daddy says it’s “complicated”—which means I should stop asking questions. But now Maggie is acting grumpy. Do you think this is a good sign?
Chapter One
“What happened to his wife?”
The social worker, Mrs. Fletcher, shifted in her cushioned swivel chair as she stared across her cluttered desk at Maggie Wells. She looked unsure of the answer she should give. The busy shuffle of activity in the community center filtered in through the open door of her cramped office.
“Does she live around here?” Maggie continued, her curiosity piqued. She watched as Mrs. Fletcher ran thick fingers through her short metallic-gray hair and sighed heavily.
“Actually,” Mrs. Fletcher began in a tired tone, “we don’t know that much about Mr. Conner’s former wife. He’s a very private person.”
“Oh.” Maggie thought for a moment. “But you got so much information about my background before allowing me to enter the outreach program. I guess I just assumed you knew as much about the children and their families.”
The women’s outreach program, organized by the Charleston community center, matched adult volunteers with young girls to provide friendship and role modeling. It was especially geared toward girls who’d lost their mothers, through death or divorce.
“I don’t mean to be nosy,” Maggie said hurriedly when Mrs. Fletcher didn’t respond. “I just wondered. I mean, to help Brandy as much as possible, I thought it would be best if I knew something about her besides the fact that she likes dolls and roller skating.”
“Yes,” the social worker agreed. “I understand your interest, of course.” She sat silently for a few seconds. Maggie leaned forward encouragingly and Mrs. Fletcher began to speak again. “It’s simply not necessary for us to make such inquiries into personal affairs. The facts behind Mr. Conner’s divorce are not our business. All we need to know is that he wishes to place his daughter in the program.”
“Of course,” Maggie said, straightening up in her chair, suddenly feeling as if she’d been caught trying to peep into someone’s back window. “I understand entirely.”
“Well, he’ll be here any minute and you can meet him for yourself,” Mrs. Fletcher said, breaking off and staring at the doorway of her office. Maggie turned quickly, following the social worker’s gaze.
A young girl scampered eagerly into the office, a large doll clutched to her chest. But Maggie’s attention was seized immediately by the dark presence that followed her, overpowering the small office with his height and brooding appearance. Her eyes moved up his torso to broad shoulders topped by a strongly angular face that held, even in January, the hint of summer’s heat. Carelessly combed chestnut waves contrasted with his stern visage.
The rich luster of his hair and the smoothness of his skin, only lightly crinkled around brilliant sapphire eyes, suggested a man of no more than thirty years. But the cool glint in those blue depths intimated at a hardness inside that his age belied.
Maggie opened her mouth to greet him, but found nothing coming out.
This is so embarrassing, she thought quickly. He’ll think I’m a fool.
Piercing blue eyes met hers for a long second, then dismissed her and passed on to Mrs. Fletcher.
Mrs. Fletcher rose and reached across her desk to extend a pudgy hand to the man who strode with an effortless assurance across the small office. Maggie, pulling herself together at last, rose also. She was graced with a cursory handshake that, despite its lack of warmth, left her hand feeling weak and crushed.
“Ryan Conner, Brandy, this is Maggie Wells,” Mrs. Fletcher introduced in a businesslike monotone. Ryan Conner sat down in the chair across from Maggie, as directed by Mrs. Fletcher. His daughter perched on his knee and smiled.brightly at Maggie.
“We here at the center are hoping Maggie and Brandy will be an excellent match,” Mrs. Fletcher said. “You’ve read the materials I sent you, I assume.” She looked narrowly at Ryan Conner, then went on without waiting for a response. “So you know all about Ms. Wells. She has agreed to commit to the program for at least a year, spending time with Brandy at least twice a month.”
Maggie looked at Ryan, noting that he seemed impatient with the social worker’s explanations. She caught his eye and smiled sympathetically, then frowned as he looked quickly away.
Mrs. Fletcher stopped, and Maggie turned her attention gladly to the child on Ryan’s lap.
“Hi, Brandy,” Maggie said. The six-year-old was an elflike miniature of her father in girlish form. Brown braids in the same shade as her father’s hair swung against her blue woolen coat. Loose white lace tights wrinkled about her ankles as she kicked her feet against the legs of the chair.
“Hi,” Brandy returned. She fidgeted on her father’s knee. He put a restraining arm around her, but she pushed him back and jumped down instead. She walked over to Maggie and reached a hesitant finger out to touch an auburn curl that nestled softly against Maggie’s shoulder.
“You have red hair!” she said, and giggled. Maggie laughed with her, enchanted with the little girl’s honest spontaneity.
She glanced at the child’s father and found him watching with a disapproving frown.
“Don’t be rude, Brandy,” he scolded, his voice softly Southern yet still commanding. Brandy backed away from Maggie, grinning mischievously.
“Oh, that’s okay. But I do prefer to call it auburn,” Maggie said to Brandy, ignoring Ryan Conner’s cool expression.
But she couldn’t resist looking at him again a moment later and smiling. His face remained impassive.
Really, Maggie thought, what is his problem? We’ve just met! He can’t dislike me already.
“Mr. Conner—” she began.
“Ryan,” he corrected. “Only my students call me Mr. Conner.”
“Okay, if you’ll call me Maggie,” she agreed cheerfully. “You’re a teacher?” she prompted, smiling at him encouragingly.
“High school English,” he responded briefly.
Maggie raised an expectant brow, hoping he would elaborate yet knowing somehow that he wouldn’t.
The ice has to break soon, she told herself, or this match will never work.
It was almost as if he had placed a wall between them before they had even met, she suddenly thought. She eyed him stubbornly.
“I’m very happy to meet you and your daughter, Mr.—Ryan, I mean,” she said.
“Yes,” he replied.
Yes, what? Maggie wondered, her silly streak rising to the challenge of the conversation. Yes, it’s nice for anyone to get to meet you? Yes, it’s nice to meet me, too? No, no, she decided, he doesn’t think it’s nice to meet me. He looks like he wants to throw me off a cliff. Forget that I’m offering to do him a favor.
She turned away from his uneasy survey and looked to Mrs. Fletcher for help in the silence that lay heavy in its suddenness.
The social worker took a satisfied breath and rose.
“Well,” Mrs. Fletcher said, “now that everybody’s introduced themselves, I’ll give you a few moments to get acquainted.”
She lumbered out from behind her desk and disappeared into the outer office.
Maggie felt sure she didn’t breathe for at least thirty seconds. She looked across at Ryan Conner and smiled with soldierly resolve, her inner tirade forgotten in her panic at the social worker’s unexpected departure. He stared back at her, head cocked slightly to the side, as if waiting for her to make the first move.
She took the easy way out and turned to Brandy.
“Brandy,” Maggie began uncomfortably, “tell me about your doll. She’s beautiful.”
Brandy proudly held the life-size doll straight out in front of herself to show Maggie.
“Her name is Penny,” Brandy said. “And she’s my favorite doll, isn’t she, Daddy?” She glanced up at her father and he nodded almost imperceptibly. Maggie noticed how the firm lines of his face softened slightly as he looked at his daughter.
Brandy turned the doll back toward herself and tugged Penny’s rumpled red dress down. When she was satisfied, she flipped the doll back around for Maggie’s further admiration.
“She’s very pretty,” Maggie said, showing the proper appreciation for Brandy’s prize doll. “I had a doll a lot like her when I was about your age,” she added, surprising herself by voicing the sudden childhood memory. The happy memory, before her father’s bankruptcy, before…
Maggie blinked quickly, pushing back the painful memories that rushed in on her at the thought of her father. She was annoyed with herself for allowing the hurtful past to intrude. She took a quick, determined breath.
“Who gave Penny to you?” Maggie asked with false brightness, back in control, with the hurt neatly tucked away in long-practiced fashion.
Ryan Conner moved slightly in his chair as Brandy answered, “Mommy gave her to me. Do you still have your doll? What’s her name?” Brandy asked, impatient and clearly not to be sidetracked from her own line of thought.
Maggie noticed Ryan’s discomfiture, and was torn between curiosity and relief that Brandy didn’t elaborate on her mother.
“Her name is Sarah,” Maggie told her, carefully guarding herself from thinking beyond the doll itself. “I still have her. She’s getting rather old now.”
“Do you still play with her?” Brandy asked, her blue eyes bright.
Maggie grinned. “I haven’t played with Sarah in a long time. I used to like to have tea parties with her, though. Do you ever have tea parties with Penny?”
Brandy nodded eagerly. “Daddy plays with me,” she said.
Maggie looked directly at Ryan for the first time since Mrs. Fletcher had left the room. She tried to imagine him playing tea party with his little daughter and her doll, but couldn’t quite manage it.
“If you’d like, and if it’s all right with your father—” Maggie glanced at Ryan. His impenetrable azure gaze answered nothing. And asked…? She wasn’t sure what. “Maybe when it warms up we can have a little tea party together, for Penny and Sarah. And Romeo, of course. He likes tea.”
“Who’s Romeo?” Brandy asked, moving a little farther from her father, a little closer to Maggie.
“Romeo’s my cat. He’s a big, fat, white cat. He just has one little patch of orange between his eyes.”
“And he drinks tea?” Brandy squealed. She turned to her father and laughed, clapping her hand over her mouth in childlike glee. “Isn’t that funny, Daddy?”
Ryan nodded, his lips curving slightly upward in response to his daughter’s exuberance. He stretched out one long arm and, with a broad, strong hand, ruffled her dark head, so like his own, and pulled her back toward him.
Maggie’s breath caught in her throat as she watched him smile.
Ryan Conner looked…human! The smile was gentle and loving, softening the squareness of his jaw into something no longer intimidating. Into something downright appealing.
Something that started a funny little tremble in her stomach. Not nerves.
Attraction.
Maggie swallowed hard, pushing back the thought, stifling the feeling. It was truly insane, and had to be squelched immediately.
Ryan lifted his gaze to Maggie then, and for a second—a heart-touching pitter-patter in time—she spied warmth and softness and…pain? Then, without warning, the mask of coolness shifted back into place.
“I want you to go find Mrs. Fletcher and tell her we’re through here, Brandy,” he instructed his daughter softly, his eyes turning down to meet hers. She wrinkled her nose up at him obstinately, but he set his mouth firmly and she hurried off obediently to the door, still hanging on tightly to Penny.
Maggie recrossed her legs and looked at Ryan. Having glimpsed a gentler side of the man, she felt even more uncomfortable. He’d be easier to deal with if she could decide he was an all-around jerk.
“You have a very bright daughter,” she commented, trying to fill the void left by Brandy’s exit.
Ryan stared narrowly at Maggie, ignoring her compliment.
“Why do you want to spend your spare time with a six-year-old girl whom you don’t know and who isn’t even related to you?” he asked brusquely.
Maggie’s mouth dropped open in surprise at his blunt question.
“Well, you know from the information Mrs. Fletcher gave you that I’m single. I don’t have any children of my own,” Maggie explained. So much for his soft side, she thought dryly.
“I don’t want to know what’s on the form,” Ryan cut in. “I want to know why you think you want to become a part of my daughter’s life.”
Maggie noticed the lightly sarcastic emphasis he placed on the word think, as if he didn’t believe she was really serious about it.
“As Mrs. Fletcher said, I’ve agreed to the specifications on time that I’m willing to commit to the program,” Maggie said coolly, struggling not to squirm under his unflinching gaze.
“Look,” she continued, “I’m not really sure what you’re trying to get at. You seem to have a problem with me.”
There. It was out in the open.
He seemed unfazed.
Maggie shook her head.
“Well, it’s up to you and Brandy whether I’ll be assigned to work with her or not,” she said. “I don’t know what you want to hear, but the bottom line is just that I feel I have something to give and no one to give it to. I don’t think I can be more frank than that.”
“You work at a computer company, I believe,” Ryan stated, completely ignoring Maggie’s honest admissions.
“Yes,” Maggie answered, feeling herself shrink under his tight scrutiny. She was a little rattled by his rapid change of topic. “I’m the assistant director of the local sales division.” She felt better as she told him that, pride in her accomplishments shoring up her flagging confidence.
“I’m sure your job is very important to you.”
“Yes, of course,” Maggie agreed. “But I have plenty of time to give to Brandy, as well. I’m fully prepared to keep my commitment to her, as I’ve said.”
Several times already, she added silently.
“I see,” Ryan said quietly. “Perhaps I need to tell you why I entered Brandy in this program.”
“That would be helpful, yes,” Maggie agreed politely, forcing a smile to her lips. Brandy was such an appealing child. She would be a joy to work with. Getting through this strange conversation with her father would be worth it, Maggie reminded herself.
“Brandy’s mother is very busy with her career,” Ryan said. “She doesn’t live here in Charleston. In fact, she doesn’t even live in South Carolina. She’s in Atlanta,” he explained, his face expressionless. “I entered Brandy in the women’s outreach program because she hardly ever sees her mother. But I don’t want her put in the same position with you that she’s in with her mother.”
“I don’t think that would be a problem, as I’ve already tried to explain,” Maggie broke in. “I think Brandy and I could get along quite well, and I promise I’ll be there for her.”
Ryan appeared thoughtful, then fixed his gaze on Maggie in an assessing manner.
“I wonder whether you work a great deal of overtime,” he suggested. “I don’t want someone who’ll be canceling out on Brandy every time a crisis comes up at the office. She already has that.”
Maggie stared back at Ryan, carefully holding her gaze steady.
“I’ve already assured you that won’t happen,” she said sharply. She sighed and rose. Then, with an ease that came from years of practice pretending an assurance that she didn’t always feel, she flipped back the curls that fell forward across her shoulders.
She wondered if that glimpse of softness she’d witnessed a few moments earlier had existed only in her imagination.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Conner. I see that I’m just not what you’re looking for,” Maggie continued, enunciating each word with a cool precision that she hoped hid the nervous roiling of her stomach. “I think you decided that before you got here today.” As she reached the door, she couldn’t resist looking back and adding a challenge. “Too bad. You’ll never know now, will you?”
Turning away, she almost bumped into Brandy and Mrs. Fletcher. She said goodbye without stopping and escaped the community center quickly. Reaching the parking lot, she inhaled the sweet, fresh odor of South Carolina winter pine and tried to stanch the rushing tide of pent-up nerves.
“I made such a fool of myself, Emma,” Maggie moaned. She buried her face in her hands and leaned back into the couch in the living room of her suburban Charleston home. “I handled it all wrong. The man detested me. That was obvious from the start. And there I was, practically begging him to let me help him with his daughter. It was ridiculous.”
“Oh, Mag, it couldn’t have been that bad, could it?” Emma Mathison asked, laughing. “You make this man sound like an ogre.”
Maggie lifted her head and stared at Emma, brows raised.
“Okay, he does sound a bit primitive,” Emma conceded, hazel eyes twinkling in a narrow face framed by short, dark, salon-created waves. “I’ll give you that. But didn’t you say he was good-looking?”
Maggie had to smile at that. Emma had been trying to set her up with a man and marry her off since their third year of college when Emma quit school and married a dentist. A house, a dog and two small children later, Emma never let an opportunity slip to try to bring Maggie into the ranks of wedded women.
“Don’t even start, Em,” Maggie said. “Believe me, this man is not a possibility. For starters, he hates me. And even if he didn’t, I definitely don’t like him. I’m not even attracted to him.” That was a lie, but it felt good to say it. “And when did I say he was good-looking, anyway?”
Strong, firm features and mysterious eyes flashed into her mind. She tried to push the image away, but the vague impression of hurt in his blue depths stayed with her.
“Okay,” she admitted, determined to ignore the troubling sensations her thoughts evoked. She smiled at Emma playfully. “So he was handsome.” Maggie leaned back. “But, so what? I’m telling you, I’m not interested.”
“What else is new?” Emma teased in the same familiar tone she always used when Maggie turned aside her attempts to interest her in romance.
“None of this matters, anyway,” Maggie reminded her. “He was so rude. I just don’t understand it. He doesn’t even know me, and he seemed to be assigning all these rotten characteristics to me.”
Emma drank the last of her coffee and set the cup down on a coaster on the end table. Rising, she said, “Well, I’ve got to go pick up the boys from my mom’s. Don’t brood, Maggie,” she warned, shaking one well-manicured finger Maggie’s way. “It’ll make you wrinkle.”
Maggie followed her friend to the door. Shutting it after Emma, she wandered thoughtfully into the kitchen, picking a tub of low-calorie fruit yogurt out of the refrigerator. Then she returned to the functional blue couch in the living room and plopped down again. The package made a soft pop as she tore off the aluminum cover. A large white cat jumped up beside her and mewed.