A Pregnancy And A Proposal

She knew she was already in too deep, knew that there was nothing she could do to turn off her traitorous emotions.

He angled her head for a kiss. Her pregnant belly was firm and spooned right into his stomach as though their bodies were made to fit that way….

The sound of her moan was lost in his mouth as his lips finally closed over hers. His kiss was sure and strong, yet soft and seductive. The joy he created with just that touch was potent, liberating. She wanted to take it further, to press closer, skin to skin—

The porch light winked on and off. She jumped, pulled back for an instant and once more met the heat of his eyes.

Flynn gave a strained laugh. “Been a while since I’ve worried about being caught necking on a girl’s front porch,” he said.

The explosion of emotions that burst through him took him by surprise. Darcie Moretti was no shrinking violet when it came to giving and taking…or kissing. She didn’t play games or wait for him to lead. She participated, gave it her all. And man alive! What that “all” did to him.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to another month of wonderful books from Harlequin American Romance! We’ve rounded up the best stories by your favorite authors, with the hope that you will enjoy reading them as much as we enjoy bringing them to you.

Kick-start a relaxing weekend with the continuation of our fabulous miniseries, THE DADDY CLUB. The hero of Mindy Neff’s A Pregnancy and a Proposal is one romantic daddy who knows how to sweep a woman off her feet!

Beloved historical author Millie Criswell makes her contemporary romance debut with The Wedding Planner. We are thrilled to bring you this compelling story of a wealthy bachelor out to find himself a bride…with a little help from the wedding consultant who wishes she were his only choice!

We’ve also got the best surprises and secrets. Bailey Dixon has a double surprise for Michael Wade in Tina Leonard’s delightful new Western, Cowboy Be Mine. And in Bonnie K. Winn’s The Mommy Makeover, a dedicated career woman is suddenly longing for marriage—what is her handsome groom’s secret?

With best wishes for happy reading from Harlequin American Romance…

Melissa Jeglinski

Associate Senior Editor

A Pregnancy and a Proposal

Mindy Neff

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Louise Weaver,

From girlhood to womanhood, through slumber parties

and heart valves and babies and weddings—

we’ve survived it all.

Thanks, girlfriend…and Happy Birthday!

Originally from Louisiana, Mindy Neff settled in Southern California where she married a really romantic guy and raised five great kids. Family, friends, writing and reading are her passions. When not writing, Mindy's ideal getaway is a good book, hot sunshine and a chair at the river’s edge with water lapping at her toes.

Mindy loves to hear from readers and can be reached at P.O. Box 2704-262, Huntington Beach, CA 92647.

Books by Mindy Neff

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

644—A FAMILY MAN

663—ADAM’S KISS

679—THE BAD BOY NEXT DOOR

711—THEY’RE THE ONE!

739—A BACHELOR FOR THE BRIDE

759—THE COWBOY IS A DADDY

769—SUDDENLY A DADDY

795—THE VIRGIN & HER BODYGUARD*

800—THE PLAYBOY & THE MOMMY*

809—A PREGNANCY AND A PROPOSAL

Upcoming topics

Week 1: Romantic Dinners for 2…or 3…or 4…Meals to woo a woman when your kids are dining

Week 2: Top Ten Tips on Teens

How to avoid the minefields in your house and give peace a chance

Week 3: Potty Training: It’s not for the weak!

Week 4: “You’re going to be a daddy…again!” How to survive—and thrive on—fatherhood, the second time around

Be there…

for vital information for every single father!

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 One

During the last five months, Flynn O’Grady had visualized countless scenarios of meeting Darcie Moretti again. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that in the middle of a Daddy Club meeting, he would look up and see her walking toward him.

His heart pounded a fierce tattoo in his chest at the sight of her. Her hair was a mass of messy brown curls that she’d corralled with two barrettes and a couple of chopsticks. Millions of golden freckles dusted her skin, fascinating him.

Darcie Moretti had a way of looking at a man that made him feel aggressive and startled and special and primitive all at once. She didn’t shy away; her gaze didn’t skitter coyly.

So why had she disappeared on him that night at the hotel? He had so many questions. Where had she been? Why had she left him without even saying goodbye, without giving him a phone number? And—

“Your daughter just called the runaway hot line.”

She was standing in front of him now, those quick-to-smile, clever lips set in a grim line.

“Did you hear what I said, Flynn?”

“Yes, I—” His brain finally absorbed the full impact of her words. He uncrossed his legs. His foot dropped to the floor. His body tightened, poised in that split instant of fight or flight, as though the folding chair had just collapsed beneath him, as though his world were collapsing, as well.

He felt the blood drain from his face, forgot that six single fathers were sitting in a semicircle around him at the Hardware and Muffins store in Princeton, each of them part of a Wednesday-night school for hapless fathers. “What did you say?”

“Heather’s planning to run away…if she hasn’t already.”

He leaped to his feet, never thinking to ask how she knew his daughter, or even where she would get such a ludicrous idea. They’d slept together once, on a sultry, late-summer evening when he’d been drowning his woes in a bottle of whiskey. She’d been like a breath of fresh air that night, a balm to his bruised soul.

But he didn’t recall mentioning his family.

“She can’t run away! I just saw her thirty minutes ago. At home. I haven’t been gone long enough.” Fear and disbelief battered him at once. Was there no end to the nightmares a parent could suffer? Horrible thoughts crossed his mind of what could happen to his little girl out on the streets. Never mind that the Princeton suburb they lived in was touted as one of the safest places in New Jersey. A young girl could make poor choices. Hell, she could slip on the ice and be buried under a foot of snow in less than an hour.

Darcie automatically reached out and placed a hand on Flynn’s arm. She saw his skin pale with genuine distress, and like always, she responded to that distress. She shouldn’t. God knows she’d gotten herself in plenty of trouble with her soft heart—a prime case in point was that night five months ago in a Philadelphia hotel room.

But darn it all, this man needed help.

When Heather O’Grady had called the runaway hot line where Darcie volunteered, Darcie had nearly had a stroke. She’d told herself every morning for the last three months that she should and would contact Flynn O’Grady. And every morning she’d chickened out.

His daughter, in a wild twist of fate, had settled the dilemma—and presented a whole new one. One that nearly ripped Darcie’s heart in two.

“Where did she go?” Flynn asked. “Did she say where she was going? What did she say?” The questions were fired one right after the other. “Is she still at home?”

“I doubt it,” Darcie said, hating the crestfallen look on his face.

“I’ve got to find her, call the cops…”

She shouldn’t get involved, should turn this case over to someone else. But that mushy heart of hers was already crying out its intentions. Not only were those intentions going to be dangerous, they were likely going to cause her great heartache. She’d felt the chemistry moments ago—right before she’d dropped her bombshell. In just a split second of eye contact, she felt him draw her in with those watch-out-woman bedroom eyes and knew he’d been remembering their night together. And her body had reacted to that sexual pull in a giddy flutter of hormones…in an exquisite, bittersweet wash of remembrance.

She wanted to just stand there and stare, to soak up every nuance of his GQ model looks, his scent, the way the white shirt rode his broad shoulders and the silk tie hung from his neck, the way the belt circled his trim waist, his pants draping and kissing his lean hips…

Well, honestly, Darcie, just stop it!

She reached for his arm again, stopping him from charging out of the store.

“I know a little about the way the police department works, and you’re not going to make headway at this early stage of the game.”

“Early? She’s thirteen years old and she just said she was going to run away!” He pinned her with a look. “And why did she tell you? How do you know my daughter?”

“I volunteer for a runaway hot line here in town.” Her hand tightened on his arm. He looked like he was going to pass out. She eased up against him, bolstered him with her body.

Oh, no, she nearly groaned. Bad move. The feel of his warm body pressed against her sent her hormones right off the charts. He needed her help. Not her fantasies.

The way he was looking at her made her squirm. Flynn O’Grady was a sexy mixture of worry, confusion and questions. She understood his worry, sympathized with his confusion and feared his questions.

“Are you okay?” she asked, easing a fraction of an inch away, still watching him in case he did indeed faint.

“No, I’m not. I’ve got to find my daughter.” He shoved his arms through his coat as he headed for the door. Then he stopped as though he’d forgotten something vital.

“The baby,” he muttered, and changed direction, striding toward Ruth Naomi Steadwell, the owner of Hardware and Muffins. The Daddy Club participants gave him room. Panic and determination radiated from him. He hitched a diaper bag over his shoulder, scooped Mary Beth into his arms and gave Ruth Naomi a distracted thank-you.

Darcie watched all this, her emotions reeling once more. She’d known he had children. If you wanted to learn anything about anybody, Ula Mae Simmons—one of the KoffeeKlatch regulars—would happily tell you. Still, seeing him with one-year-old Mary Beth in his arms jolted her.

Reining in the emotions, she barely stopped herself from shaking her head. He was like a bull charging blindly. His heart and intentions were in the right place, but he was very likely going to screw up royally. She didn’t want to see that happen.

Darcie stepped in his path. “Flynn, wait.”

He seemed confused, surprised that she was there. “Do you know where my daughter is? Where I can look?”

“I have an idea.”

“Then tell me.”

Now this was the tricky part. She couldn’t quite hold his gaze. “Um…I can’t.”

His chocolate eyes went from delicious warmth to black fire in an instant. “What do you mean, you can’t?”

“What the hot line personnel talk about with the kids is confidential.”

“Conf—” His expression incredulous, he didn’t seem able to finish the word.

And Darcie didn’t seem able to think—an odd occurrence given that she was normally a sharp, witty woman. Her cheeks felt overheated and her heart pounded as though someone had injected her with an ampoule of adrenaline.

Oh, no. She recognized this feeling. It had been happening to her with some regularity in the past four months and it meant that she was very close to experiencing one of those weird spells.

And the very last thing she wanted to do was crumple into a heap at Flynn O’Grady’s feet.

Whirling, she made a beeline for the rest room.

Flynn watched as Darcie Moretti disappeared through an inner sanctuary where men normally didn’t trod. It took him a full moment to realize that she’d bailed on him. Again!

This wasn’t acceptable. The clock was ticking. His daughter was in the process of running away to God only knew where.

And the woman who held the answers had apparently thought to escape him by hiding out in the ladies’ rest room.

Well, by damn, she’d underestimated him. He was a man on a thin string. A harried father. No gender sign on a pressboard swinging door would stop him.

Hitching Mary Beth higher on his hip, he slammed his hand against the door and pushed it open. From behind him, he heard approving noises from The Daddy Club guys, and an indrawn breath or two from the older patrons watching from the designer coffee bar in the back of the hardware store.

He ignored it all, allowed the door to swing closed behind him, sealing them away from prying eyes and ears. He focused his attention on the startled, freckle-faced woman staring at him with her back up against the salmon tiled vanity, her dripping wet fingers fiddling with the shiny black buttons on her baggy coat.

Frowning, he noticed that her pale face was also wet. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

Her tone wasn’t all that convincing but he let it go. “Look, Darcie, if you’ve got information about my daughter, I expect you to give it over.” It was tough to look menacing and serious with mushy animal crackers decorating his shirt, a squirming baby on his hip and a pink cloth diaper bag slung over his shoulder.

But he gave it a good shot, despite the fact that desperation was climbing and his imagination of what could happen to his daughter was vivid and ugly, sending him into near panic.

One of Darcie’s golden brows arched and her hazel eyes took on a look of censure. She reached for a paper towel and dried her face and hands. “Do you threaten your daughter like that?”

“I’m not threatening—” Appalled, offended, he broke off, tried to gather his wits. Was it the situation or the woman who had him so scattered, so close to the boiling point? It annoyed him that she’d left him, asleep and naked, five months ago. And it annoyed him that she’d just popped up in his life again. All that annoyance was getting tangled up in his panic over Heather. “No, I do not threaten my daughter!”

The baby winced, blinked. Her lip trembled.

“Now look what you’ve done,” Darcie said. She reached out and plucked Mary Beth out of his arms.

“Wait just a—”

“Hush.”

Flynn didn’t know if she’d meant the baby or him, but he was surprised enough to obey. He didn’t normally hand his kid over to just anybody. Actually, he hadn’t really handed her, Darcie had taken her and he hadn’t put up a fight.

He nearly groaned. What kind of a father was he? He couldn’t even hold on to his baby daughter. Could just any old stranger pluck his baby out of his arms?

And what about Heather? She was lost. He’d lost her.

How had that happened? Why hadn’t he known she was that unhappy?

He should have seen it—especially tonight. He’d asked her to baby-sit Mary Beth so he could come to this Daddy Club meeting, but she’d thrown a hissy fit. Frustrated, he’d snatched up Mary Beth and stormed out of the house.

Oh, man. He was such an idiot.

“Hey, it’ll be all right.”

He felt Darcie’s hand on his arm, met her compassionate eyes, noticed that the color had come back into her cheeks.

Mary Beth was happily twisting messy fingers in Darcie’s curly hair, dislodging several unruly strands from its sexy updo. Darcie didn’t seem to notice or to mind. And for some confounded reason, that touched him.

“I’m at a disadvantage here. You seem to have all the answers—about my daughter…and about where you’ve been for the past five months, why you left…”

His words trailed off, inviting her to pick up the conversational ball. He knew the timing of personal questions was inappropriate, but he felt like an ostrich looking for a hole in the sand to bury his head. Maybe if he stalled long enough, somebody would burst through the door and tell him it was all a mistake, that his daughter was home, safe and sound and happy, and that he wasn’t failing miserably at just about everything he did lately.

“I don’t have all the answers, Flynn.” She shifted the baby so that Mary Beth’s diaper-clad bottom was perched on the shelf of her arm. The baby laid her head on Darcie’s shoulder, and something in Flynn’s chest tightened. It didn’t make sense, but just that simple move made him feel inadequate. That was an emotion he was becoming increasingly familiar with these days.

“As for me,” she said. “I haven’t been hiding.”

“I thought you lived in Philly.”

“Did I say that?”

“No. You didn’t say much of anything.”

“You’d had a lot to drink.” She smiled. “Maybe we should start over.” She held out her hand. “Darcie Moretti, physical address Trenton, New Jersey. Same town I’ve lived in all my life.”

Flynn felt ridiculous exchanging pleasantries in the women’s rest room—especially in light of the fact that they’d slept together—but somehow Darcie Moretti made it seem normal.

He accepted her hand, felt a kinetic jolt that both shocked and worried him. He saw her hazel eyes widen, saw them darken to the color of moss.

“Well,” she murmured. “This is awkward.”

His laughter was both strained and spontaneous—and took him totally by surprise. “You’re a contradiction, Darcie Moretti. You pull a feminine stunt by hiding out in the rest room, then blatantly admit to an attraction.”

“I didn’t blatantly admit to an attraction. I only made a comment.”

“An admission,” he argued. “And along those lines, how about some straight talk about where you think my daughter took off to.”

Her gaze didn’t skitter this time. It held his. “I’d rather not say.”

“And I’d rather that you did. We’re standing in the women’s rest room, for crying out loud. We’ve gone to bed together. If that doesn’t invite confidences, I don’t know what does.” Now her gaze did jerk away, making him think of avoidance and secrets. First things first, he reminded himself. Find Heather, and then get the whole story on Darcie Moretti and her disappearing acts.

“Tell me, Darcie.”

She shook her head. “I’m only as good as my word. I work at the hot line and promise the kids who call me that they’re safe talking to me. If I betrayed that confidence, word would get around on the street. Kids would stop calling and they’d end up in bad situations and it would be my fault.”

Something raw and painful shimmered in her tone, but he told himself to let it go. “I’m not going to spread rumors. We’re talking about my daughter.”

“She may be your daughter, but she called me.”

He felt his frustration rising, tried to tamp it back down. “I’m not such a bad guy. I don’t beat her. I try to give her everything I can.”

“Except your time?”

“Did she say that?”

“Sometimes she does.”

“Sometimes she does?” he repeated. “She’s called you more than once?”

“Yes. I’ve been talking to her for about three weeks. Since just before New Year’s Eve.”

Flynn raked a hand through his hair, dislodged a hunk of sticky animal cracker, and wiped his hand on his coat, uncaring that it left a light brown smear.

“We had a fight New Year’s Eve. She wanted to go to a party and I said no. I didn’t know she was still mad about that.” He heaved a sigh and focused on her reflection in the mirror, noticing that one of the chopsticks shoved haphazardly in her curly hair was slipping.

“According to Heather you claimed it was family night, but a friend came over and Heather ended up baby-sitting Mary Beth while you ignored both of the girls and had drinks with the other woman.”

His gaze jerked back to her face. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have sworn Darcie Moretti’s tone was laced with jealousy.

“I did not ignore her, and I didn’t make her babysit! I was home. And that other woman was Ross Steadwell’s wife, Elaine! Ross was there, too, and so were their kids.”

“Oh.” She didn’t look a bit contrite over her show of jealousy—if it had even been that. “Aren’t Ariel and Jimmy cuties?”

“You know them?”

“Very well. I handle the insurance for Data Ink. where Elaine works. In fact, uh…I’m the one who suggested that she and Ross get you involved in The Daddy Club.”

She seemed almost apologetic. Still, Flynn didn’t like people going behind his back, orchestrating his life. Never mind that his life seemed to be out of control lately and he could probably use some coaching. He still didn’t like it.

“Does Heather think I’m that bad?”

“No. She’s just a confused young girl.”

“What about me? I’m confused, too. I’m trying my best, but it doesn’t seem to be good enough. Look at me. I’m a mess. I’ve got animal crackers and baby slobber all over me. I nearly charged out of Hardware and Muffins without my baby. My other daughter is mad enough at me to run away and I don’t know why! And you claim to have answers that you won’t give.”

“I can’t betray Heather’s confidence, Flynn.”

The roiling in his gut was so powerful, he thought he might explode. Or cry. When she reached out to touch him, he jerked back. He didn’t know which emotion would rule, and he couldn’t chance letting her accidentally push him over the edge.

The woman was stubborn, but she smelled of apples and cinnamon and radiated compassion and capability. She made him think of home and hearth and family—all the things he wanted most. She made him think of intimacy and fun also, two things that had been sorely lacking from his life for quite a while now.

Or at least since that night five months ago.

Even though he’d had more to drink than he should have, he remembered it clearly. Remembered Darcie clearly, her passion, her verve, her wholehearted giving.

Right now, though, she wasn’t willing to give. She held the key to his daughter’s whereabouts. How could he make her understand how torn up and frightened he felt at the thought of something happening to his daughter?

“Heather’s had it rough this past year. Her mom left right after Mary Beth was born, then ended up getting killed in an accident. My mom moved in with us, which really helped the girls over the hump, but she recently had to leave for Vermont to take care of my aunt who had hip surgery—and I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.” Saying it out loud made him realize how many women in his life had abandoned him. Some intentionally, some not so intentionally. God, he’d failed as a husband, and now his incompetence had him failing as a dad.

He was the one who’d wanted so desperately to be a father…but he hadn’t dreamed he’d have to do it as a full-time, single parent.

And failing dismally after the first three weeks of being on his own.

“You’ve got no reason to trust me, Flynn, but will you?” she asked softly.

“Trust you how?”

“Let me go find Heather.”

“I can’t…. That’s my job.”

“You’re going to stand on what you think is expected of you in a situation like this?” She shook her head, heaved in a breath. “As her parent you can force her to come home, but you can make it worse, too. And what’s to say she’ll stay put? She’s gotten up the nerve to make a move. The next time it won’t be as hard. Are you going to stay up all night watching her to make sure she doesn’t run again?”