“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?”

A Pregnant Proposal
Elizabeth Harbison

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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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.”

Matt remembered his conversation with Kane earlier. “He knows who you are. You’re hard to miss.”

She made a face. “I know. Thanks for the reminder.” She gestured helplessly at her belly. “Not too much longer.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Matt said, then laughed. “Although you have a point. But you’re a standout anyway.”

She screwed up her face. “In a good way or a bad way?”

“A good way, of course. If it was in a bad way, I wouldn’t have said anything.” He kept a straight face. “I would have just fired you.”

She cocked her head ever so slightly, but before she could respond, a round, bespectacled man neither recognized called out, “Miss Martin?” from down the hall in front of them.

Matt and Jen turned to see him trundling toward them, sweating, and holding a folder of some sort.

“Yes?”

“Jennifer Martin?” the man asked, mopping his brow with his forearm.

A cannonball of apprehension lodged in Matt’s stomach. Instinctively he stepped in front of Jen and started to ask who the man was, but before he could get a word out, she said, “Yes, I’m Jennifer Martin.”

The man shoved the folder roughly into her hand and said, “These are for you.”

“What?”

The man waddled back down the hall without another word.

“Hey!” she called after him. “Who are you?”

“He looks like a process server,” Matt said gently. “Just a messenger for someone else.”

“An evil, soulless messenger.” She frowned and tried to look at the folder. “But for who?” She lost her grip and dropped the folder rather than her doughnut, then laughed. “Wouldn’t want to drop this. Would you mind picking that up?”

“Not at all.” It went against his instincts to pick up someone else’s private papers, but he couldn’t very well stand there and make her bend over to get them. He lifted the folder and held it out to her.

She gestured that she was holding keys in one hand and her doughnut in the other. “Would you look?” she asked with a charming smile. “Who’s it from?”

He looked at the return address. “Sedgewick-Armour.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ack. I should have known. It’s Philip’s father. I wonder what he wants now. An old pair of socks that Philip left at the apartment, no doubt. Open it up.”

“Jen, I really don’t think I should.”

“Oh, come on.” She dropped her keys into her pocket and pulled a mitten off with her teeth. “It’s no big deal.” She stuffed the mitten into her pocket, transferred the doughnut to her free hand and did the same with her other mitten, watching Matt all along.

With a shrug, he opened the envelope and pulled out the papers. His heart sank. “Let’s go back in your office.”

“Why?”

He opened the door, put a hand on her small shoulder and guided her back into the office.

“Matt, jeez, what’s the matter? What do they want, the stereo? They can have it.”

“They don’t want the stereo, Jen.” She was eight months pregnant and single. That was hard enough without additional stresses. This was going to be devastating. And it was absolutely the last thing in the world she needed right now. “Have a seat.”

She obviously picked up on the seriousness of his tone because she took the folder, saying, “What is this? I can’t read all this legal mumbo jumbo.”

“Sit.” He helped her into her chair and knelt before her, taking her hands in his, resting them on top of the folder on her lap.

“What is it, Matt? What do they want?”

He gave her hands a squeeze and swallowed hard. “They want the baby, Jen.”

Chapter Two

“What do you mean they want the baby?” Jen asked, but she knew. She knew even without the sympathy she saw in Matt’s warm hazel eyes. The drumming in her chest, the tightening of her stomach, the burning in her throat all told her: Philip’s parents were trying to get custody of her unborn child.

Matt put a soothing hand on her shoulder. Her muscles, which had drawn as tight as a bow, relaxed slightly beneath his touch.

“The fact that they want custody doesn’t mean they’ll get it, you know,” he said. “You’re the child’s mother, that means everything.”

Jen tried to smile, but tears spilled down her cheeks instead. “It should. But we’ve all heard of custody cases that clearly go in the wrong direction.”

“It’s very rare, Jen. Very rare.”

She nodded unhappily. “Yeah, well, Dutch Sedgewick is one of the most powerful lawyers in Chicago, in fact, he’s probably the most powerful lawyer in Chicago. If anyone could win a case like this, it would be him.” Suddenly she felt as if she couldn’t breathe. She put a hand to her chest and swallowed a sob. She was vaguely aware of Matt moving to her desk and picking up the mug of water she always had there.

He brought it back, handed it to her, and pulled a chair up in front of hers. “Jen, they’re not going to take your baby away.” He sat and leaned toward her. “There’s no way they could get away with it.” There was such kindness and concern in his expression that, for a moment, Jen felt reassured.

But it was only for a moment. “There are probably two thousand ways they could get away with it, and Dutch knows each and every one, case by case.” A wave of anger rose in her but broke into fear.

“He’d have to prove that you were an unfit mother, and there’s no way he’s going to be able to do that.” He captured her gaze with his own, and held it. “Your character is so sterling it’s nearly blinding in sunlight.”

She closed her eyes. “I’ve done some things in my life that I’m not that proud of. Nothing huge, of course, but little things that might prevent a nomination to sainthood down the road.”

“Sounds interesting.” He smiled his even white smile. “You’ll have to tell me about them sometime. But whatever they are, I’m one hundred percent sure they’re not going to lose you custody of your child. The world just doesn’t work that way.”

She stood up and paced the floor in front of him. “I’d like to believe that, but unfair things happen all the time. Murderers go free because they confess before the police read them their rights, airplanes crash because a tiny wire over the baggage sparks, children get sick…” She drew her hands into fists at her side, then released them. “People die horrible deaths because they light too many candles for what they think will be a romantic evening.”

Matt watched her steadily. “You’re right, Jen. Unfair things happen all the time. But not this time.” He stood and went to her, putting both hands on her shoulders. “You’re not going to lose this child. The Sedgewicks are not going to take the baby away from you.”

She took a deep breath and placed a hand on her belly protectively. The baby didn’t move. She knew he wouldn’t. He—or she—always slept during her lunch hour. The baby wasn’t even born yet and she already knew more about her child than the Sedgewicks could ever know. She felt she knew the soul of the little person who tumbled around inside of her. She’d been given the job of loving and protecting him and that was just what she was going to do. Matt was right, the Sedgewicks were not going to take the child away from her.

And they were going to get a tremendous battle if they tried.

“Darn right they’re not going to take the baby,” she said determinedly. “Not while I have breath in my body.”

“Good.” Matt nodded and gave her shoulders a final squeeze before taking his hands off. “That’s more like it.”

Jen nodded. “I’ll just call Mr. Sedgewick and talk to him, make him see reason.”

Matt snapped to attention. “Now, wait a minute, Jen. I’m not sure you should do that yourself. Better to hire a lawyer to do the talking so Sedgewick doesn’t take advantage of you.”

“What do you mean?”

Matt gave a half shrug. “Just that if you say one wrong thing he might jump on it and use it for his case.”

“What could I say that he could use against me? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“No, you haven’t.” Matt’s voice was gentle but firm. “But if you get flustered—and he will be an expert at trying to make you feel that way—who knows what you might say?”

Jen gave a laugh. “Think I might slip and make an arbitrary confession to smuggling or extortion?”

Matt smiled, but his eyes remained fastened on hers. “Of course not. But people have been known to confess to things that weren’t true when the pressure was on them.”

She shook her head. “Not me. The truth is on my side in this case.”

“Sometimes that’s not enough.”

She sighed. Matt could be right. On the other hand, maybe they were giving Dutch Sedgewick a lot more credit than he deserved. “Maybe he’s just a blowhard and the worst he can do is act the way he always has toward me—like I’m an irritating gnat flying in his face.” She waited a moment and added, “I promise this, if he maintains this suit, I’ll be a lot more trouble than a gnat.”

Matt looked at her for a moment, then sat down, shaking his head. “You’re what my grandmother would have called a real pistol, you know that?”

“This is a good thing?”

“Sure. If you like giving fits to the people who care about you.”

She bit her tongue before self-pity let her say that, apart from Susan and Matt, she felt like there were more people against her than for her. Of course, that was counting the messenger who had given her the papers and the kid at the coffee shop who she was sure was lying when he said they didn’t have any more chocolate macadamia biscotti.

The baby moved, kicking Jen’s ribs, and her perspective came back to her in a rush. She no longer had the luxury of feeling sorry for herself, she had someone else to take care of now. Already her love for the baby took precedence over everything else in her life. Surely when the Sedgewicks saw that, they’d drop their suit.

The telephone on Jen’s desk trilled.

“Do you want me to have them hold your calls?” Matt asked, poised to take action.

Jen shook her head. “It’s okay.” She picked up the phone. It was Leila, calling for Matt.

With an apologetic smile, he took the phone and answered it. “I thought I told you to take messages,” he said into the receiver, then listened. “Oh. I see. Uh-huh.”

Jen studied his profile as he talked. He was certainly handsome, she thought to herself. No wonder so many women were after him. She smiled to herself, remembering how he had once confided to Susan and herself that he was tired of shallow relationships, but that he didn’t want anything deeper. He’d rather be alone, he’d said, than play the games any longer. Privately she and Susan had agreed that a great guy was being wasted and that they should keep their eyes out for the perfect woman for him. Now, though she was loathe to admit it, she was glad they hadn’t succeeded. It felt nice to have him here for her, looking after her interests and reassuring her.

“Sorry for the interruption,” he said, hanging up the phone. “It seems we just hired a mail-room clerk with a criminal past.”

Jen raised an eyebrow, absently rubbing her hand across her belly. “So we’re an equal opportunity employer, what’s the problem?”

“By criminal I mean two million bucks’ worth of mail fraud at a large accounting firm in Boston.” Matt shook his head. “He got off on a technicality.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “I guess he didn’t mention that in his application.”

“Nope.”

She sighed and sat down heavily in her hard leather chair. “You’d better get down and take care of that, then.”

“I hate to leave you alone with this right now.” He looked at her with so much concern, her chest tightened.

But she didn’t want to be a burden to him, or to anyone. She waved him off with her hand. “Oh, I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t look convinced. “How about dinner tonight?”

“You don’t have to baby-sit me, Matt, honestly.” She looked into his eyes. “I’m really all right.”

He put his hands up in surrender. “I believe you, I believe you. But I have selfish reasons for asking you to dinner. We still haven’t talked about the day care, and Kane’s breathing down my neck about it. I’d like to get your opinions and since we didn’t make lunch…”

“Sold.” She was glad to have a good reason to accept because, the truth was, ever since he’d mentioned going out to lunch, she’d been hungry for a big juicy hamburger. Maybe she’d change it to a big juicy steak for dinner. The four doughnuts she’d had for lunch weren’t really very satisfying. “I usually leave around five-thirty, how about you? Should we go from here?”

“Whatever you prefer, Jen, it’s your pick. After all, you’re the one doing me a favor.”

In fact, she would have preferred to go home and get herself together first, maybe put on some makeup and a nicer outfit, but she didn’t want Matt to think she thought it was a date, so she said, “Great, then let’s go from here.”

He gave a short nod. “I’ll come meet you here at five-thirty.”

“Perfect.” She pushed her hair back off her face. “See you then.”

He started for the door, then stopped and turned back to her. “In the meantime, Jen,” he looked at the telephone and then back at her, “don’t do anything foolish, okay?”

“Me?” She smiled. “Of course not.”

“Remember what I said, don’t talk to Sedgewick unless it’s through a lawyer. God knows what he’d get you to say.”

“I’m a big girl.” She glanced theatrically at her belly. “A really big girl. I can take care of myself and whoever else may come along.”

Matt eyed her for a moment, then gave a single nod. “All right.”

She watched him go with a curious sense of emptiness. As long as Matt had been in the office with her, she’d been occupied. As long as she’d been occupied, she hadn’t had to make the call to Dutch Sedgewick that Matt was trying so hard to keep her from making. Yet she knew she had to do it. If she waited and had a lawyer contact Dutch for her, that would really set him off. He would look at it as a call to battle. That was the last thing she needed. Whereas, if she spoke with him herself, there was a possibility, at least, that she might be able to reason with him.

And now that she was alone, she couldn’t put it off any longer.

With more care than was necessary, she took the phone book out of her desk drawer and looked up the number for Sedgewick-Armour. When she found it, she had to fight an urge to slap the book shut and forget the call, but she had to make it. So she settled into the chair behind her desk, took several deep breaths for courage and dialed the number.

“Dutch Sedgewick, please,” she said when a crisp-voiced receptionist answered the phone.

“May I tell him who’s calling?”

“Jennifer Martin.”

“One moment please.” There was a click, then dead silence as she waited on hold. No fuzzy radio station or soothing Muzak for Dutch Sedgewick. He probably wanted his clients and his adversaries alike to hear their own hearts beat as they waited for him to come on the line. Refusing to give in to the anxiety, Jen hummed to herself and watched the timer on her telephone count the minutes—four and a half of them—until the receptionist came back on the line.

“Mr. Sedgewick can’t be interrupted right now,” the voice said coolly. “May I take a number so he can call you back?”

It took nearly five minutes for him to tell you he couldn’t be interrupted? Jen thought. She knew this was another of his lawyerly tactics, but she didn’t see that she had a choice. She left her work number and said that she would be there until five-thirty.

He returned her call at five twenty-five.

“Dutch Sedgewick here,” he said, in a voice that boomed like Fred Flintstone’s, without the humor.

Jen’s heart did a bellyflop. All of her confidence left in a single hiss of breath. “Mr. Sedgewick,” she said, trying to collect her thoughts as they scattered like birds at the sound of a dog’s bark. “I called about the papers you sent over earlier.”

“I figured as much,” he said and she imagined him drumming his fingers on his desk. “Are you prepared to settle this out of court?”

She knew she had to be very careful how she answered him. “Well, I certainly don’t have any desire to go to court.”

“Good. I can have custody papers drawn up immediately, if you’re willing to sign. I can bring them to you myself.”

“No—”

“No what? No, you’ll come here or no, you don’t want to sign?”

“I don’t want you bringing custody papers to me—”

“You prefer court, then?”

“No, I prefer neither. You see—”

“Miss Martin.” A world of implication bled from his emphasis. “ I don’t need to tell you, do I, that grandparents’ rights are very strong? Particularly in a case like this.”

She didn’t know what he meant by “a case like this” but she didn’t want to encourage his legal argument right now, either. “Of course not, but—”

“Grandparents’ rights are stronger, in many cases, than those of a single parent. Like you. As a matter of fact, sometimes that parent isn’t even allowed visitation when all is said and done. Now we can do this simply or we can play ugly, it’s up to you.”

Jen twisted the phone cord around her finger. If this wasn’t ugly, what was? She bolstered her nerves by imagining Matt was still with her, encouraging her in that soft but steady way of his. “Mr. Sedgewick, to me this isn’t a game. I’m not going to play at all.” A tremble began in the pit of her stomach. “I’m sorry. I know that you and Mrs. Sedgewick must miss Philip terribly, but you cannot have my baby.”

“Our grandchild.” There was not an iota of warmth to his voice. “The grandchild you evidently planned to keep a secret from us. If my wife hadn’t gone to your home to retrieve Philip’s belongings, we might never have found out. I suppose that’s just how you would have liked it, too, us not knowing about Philip’s son.”

Her hands began to shake. “No—”

“So you admit it!”

Cold washed over her. Matt had been right, she shouldn’t have spoken to Sedgewick. She was in over her head; he was twisting all of her words. “No, what I meant was, you’ve got it wrong.”

“Really.” She could hear him take a triumphant draw on the cigar he was almost never without. “Proceed carefully, Miss Martin.”

“You’ve got to listen to me!” She was near tears. The idea that Philip had grown up under this tyranny made her heart ache for him. She remembered his stories of the lashings he used to get if he brought home a grade lower than A from school, or if he made a mistake during a piano recital. At the time, Jen had believed Philip had to be exaggerating, at least a little. Now she believed him completely.

“I’m listening, Miss Martin. What are you saying?”

“I’m saying…” She hesitated. Not only did she believe Philip now, but she knew she had to protect his child as no one had been able to protect him. She owed at least that to him, as well as to the baby.

“You’re saying what?” the man on the other end of the line demanded. “Speak up, girl, I don’t have all evening for this nonsense.”

She had a vision, suddenly, of Dutch Sedgewick bullying her sweet, innocent child this way and something in her broke. She would not let that happen, no matter what. “Mr. Sedgewick,” she said sharply. Before she had time to think better of her plan, the words were out. “This baby is not your grandchild.”

She could almost hear the ash dropping from the tip of his cigar onto the lap of his two-thousand-dollar trousers. “I beg your pardon?”

She said a short prayer, asking Philip to forgive her for what she had to say. “This is not Philip’s baby I’m carrying. I wasn’t pregnant when Philip died.” Which was true in a way, since she hadn’t known she was pregnant when Philip died.

There was a moment of silence, and then, “I don’t believe you.”

She dove headfirst into her lie. “Don’t let my fiancé hear you saying that.”

People have been known to confess to things that weren’t true when the pressure was on them, Matt had said. Boy, had he called this one right!

“Your fiancé?” Dutch’s tone quieted just enough for her to realize he was taken aback.

“Yes, Mr. Sedgewick. My baby’s father and I are planning to get married as soon as the baby is born.”

If you get flustered, who knows what you might say?

“Is that so.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. “I suppose this fiancé has a name?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

A moment passed like an hour and Jen knew Dutch wanted her to sweat.

“Who is it?” he asked at last.

Panic chased several lame answers around her mind. “I’m not sure that’s any of your business, Mr. Sedgewick,” she stalled. “Particularly after the threats you were making a couple of minutes ago.”

“It’s my business if you don’t want DNA testing added to my suit when the child is born.”

Something deep inside Jen screamed. She couldn’t let this man threaten her or her child. She couldn’t let this kind of person be part of her child’s life at all. She would not. “You have no right do that. You have no right to do any of this!”

“My dear, you would be surprised how many rights I have.” He gave a humorless laugh. “If you’re not carrying my son’s child, I want to know who’s child it is. Where did this very convenient fiancé come from?”

“I’ve worked with him for years.” Her mouth was as dry as cotton. She’d never been good at lying. “After Philip died, he was a shoulder to cry on and one thing led to another…before I knew it, we were talking marriage.”

“I should think so. I want a name.” His tone told her there was no more stalling.

So she said the only name that came to mind, the only man she could think of who was noble enough and kind enough to be the fictional father of her baby.

Don’t talk to Sedgewick unless it’s through a lawyer. God knows what he’d get you to say.

“His name is Matt Holder.”

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