“A baby was left in my care and it’s possible that you’re the father.”

Keely hadn’t intended to blurt it out like that, but she had a job to do. Expect now she felt bad. The poor guy was so shocked, the color drained from his face.

“Mine? You’ve got to be kidding,” Devon replied.

“I’m not, believe me. This isn’t something I would joke about.”

He shook his head, staring at the floor, obviously trying to grip the announcement. While Keely waited for him to speak again, several emotions passed across his face.

Then his jaw clenched a few times and his gaze returned to Keely. “Did you say this baby could be mine? Does that mean he might not be?”

“He could be yours or he could belong to another man,” she said quietly.

“Of course,” he said caustically.

The relief in his voice worried Keely, as did her attraction to this man she’d only just laid eyes on.

Which left her to wonder, what had she gotten herself into?

Dear Reader,

Welcome to more juicy reads from Silhouette Special Edition. I’d like to highlight Silhouette veteran and RITA® Award finalist Teresa Hill, who has written over ten Silhouette books under the pseudonym Sally Tyler Hayes. Her second story for us, Heard It Through the Grapevine, has all the ingredients for a fast-paced read—marriage of convenience, a pregnant preacher’s daughter and a handsome hero to save the day. Teresa Hill writes, “I love this heroine because she takes a tremendous leap of faith. She hopes that her love will break down the hero’s walls, and she never holds back.” Don’t miss this touching story!

USA TODAY bestselling and award-winning author Susan Mallery returns to her popular miniseries HOMETOWN HEARTBREAKERS with One in a Million. Here, a sassy single mom falls for a drop-dead-gorgeous FBI agent, but sets a few ground rules—a little romance, no strings attached. Of course, we know rules are meant to be broken! Victoria Pade delights us with The Baby Surprise, the last in her BABY TIMES THREE miniseries, in which a confirmed bachelor discovers he may be a father. With encouragement from a beautiful heroine, he feels ready to be a parent…and a husband.

The next book in Laurie Paige’s SEVEN DEVILS miniseries, The One and Only features a desirable medical assistant with a secret past who snags the attention of a very charming doctor. Judith Lyons brings us Alaskan Nights, which involves two opposites who find each other irritating, yet totally irresistible! Can these two survive a little engine trouble in the wilderness? In A Mother’s Secret, Pat Warren tells of a mother in search of her secret child and the discovery of the man of her dreams.

This month is all about love against the odds and finding that special someone when you least expect it. As you lounge in your favorite chair, lose yourself in one of these gems!

Sincerely,

Karen Taylor Richman

Senior Editor

The Baby Surprise
Victoria Pade

www.millsandboon.co.uk

VICTORIA PADE

is a bestselling author of both historical and contemporary romance fiction, and the mother of two energetic daughters, Cori and Erin. Although she enjoys her chosen career as a novelist, she occasionally laments that she has never traveled farther from her Colorado home than Disneyland; instead she spends all her spare time plugging away at her computer. She takes breaks from writing by indulging in her favorite hobby—eating chocolate.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter One

K eely Gilhooley found the address she was looking for and pulled her conservative sedan up to the curb in front of the house.

The circa 1940s modest red-brick two-story was trimmed in white and surrounded by a covered porch that was bordered halfway up by brick.

Keely couldn’t tell from the street if anyone was home, but since she hadn’t found any other addresses for the renowned freelance wildlife photographer who owned the place, she didn’t know where else to connect with him on a Monday afternoon.

She turned off the engine and checked the computer printout on the passenger seat.

Eighteen thirty-four—that was the number on the paper, that was the number on the house. The home of Devon Tarlington.

Keely sighed, resigned to what she had to do but not liking it. How could anyone like being put in an uncomfortably awkward position against her will?

She was used to locating people—that was her job. She and her sister Hillary ran Where Are They Now?, an organization that specialized in tracing people, mostly via the Internet. But once they’d done that, they turned the information over to their client and it was up to the client to contact or confront the person. This was the first time Keely had had both to find someone and face him. And with news she certainly didn’t want to deliver.

But there was no other choice. She and Hillary had been left holding the bag—in a manner of speaking. And then Keely had lost the coin toss with Hillary that determined which of them had to meet Devon Tarlington. So it was up to her.

“Ready or not, here I come,” she announced, getting out of the car and heading up the walk.

On the way she kept an eye on the enormous picture window to the right of the front door. But still she couldn’t tell if, on the other side of it, someone was watching her approach.

There were five cement steps to take her onto the porch and as she trudged up them she was wondering what kind of reception she would have if Devon Tarlington was home. She was wondering what kind of person he was. Would he be some big, hulking, scary guy who might not separate the message from the messenger? Who might blow up at her?

The porch didn’t have any furniture on it. No warm wicker. No slatted chair swinging from chains. No flowerpots. Not even a welcome mat to give her hope that he might be a friendly sort. It was October in Colorado and those things could all have been put away for the winter, she reasoned. Plus, on the positive side, there wasn’t a huge, grizzly-toothed dog or an Approach At Your Own Risk sign, either.

But still she was wary.

As she went up to the front door she caught a glimpse of herself reflected in the oval of beveled glass that filled the center of the top half of the oak panel. She took a quick assessment of her appearance, trying to see if she could give herself a don’t-even-think-about-messing-with-me air to protect herself in case Devon Tarlington didn’t take kindly to what he was about to find out.

Her long, curly red hair had been even more riotous than usual this morning so she’d had to pull it into a scrunchie at her crown. That seemed like a mistake now. How tough was a scrunchie, after all?

She had on jeans and a red turtleneck, and that was okay. No frills or fluff. No nonsense. But she had applied a little mascara and blusher, so she practiced narrowing her green eyes to look intimidating if the need arose.

It didn’t help. She doubted she could convince anyone she was a brute of a woman. She just had to hope she didn’t need to be.

In any event, she squared her shoulders to at least appear stronger and braver than she felt, and rang the doorbell.

She didn’t have to wait long before the door opened and when it did she was slightly taken aback at her first glimpse of the man standing on the other side. Not because he was frightening. He was just that good-looking.

He was tall—over six feet to her five foot five—and extremely well built, with long legs, a narrow waist and hips, and shoulders and pectorals that seemed to go on forever. And all of it was attached to a dream of a face that was angular and sharp-edged, with deep-set blue eyes the color of new denim, a straight nose, agile lips with just a hint of a sardonic upturn to their corners, and dark brown hair that was cut short and left slightly mussed on top.

“Can I help you?” he asked when she just stood there gawking instead of introducing herself.

It took Keely a moment to realize she was staring and not speaking. Finally she yanked her wits back in order and said, “I’m looking for Devon Tarlington.”

Now why had her voice come out sounding like a lame-duck freshman addressing the senior captain of the football team who also happened to be the class president voted most hunky boy in the school?

And it didn’t help when those nimble lips eased into a sexy, sexy half smile. Or when, in a second taste of deep, rich baritone, he said, “That’s me.”

Keely reminded herself why she was there, drew herself up a second time, put on her most professional face and said, “My name is Keely Gilhooley—”

He laughed.

The jerk had the nerve to laugh at her name.

“Keely Gilhooley?” he repeated. “And with that flaming red hair? You wouldn’t happen to be a little Irish, would you?”

“A little,” she said facetiously, trying to maintain her pique when his half smile turned into an endearing grin and he stretched a long arm up the edge of the door, shifting his weight more to one hip than the other with an innate sensuality.

“It’s great hair, by the way,” he said then, not like a come-on but as if he genuinely liked her hair. Which put power to the compliment.

But again Keely reminded herself that this was not some kind of social event and that, considering what she’d come to tell this man, he was about the last guy on earth she would want anything to do with even if he was traffic-stoppingly handsome and disarmingly charming.

“May I come in?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Why do you want to?” he countered.

Keely took out one of her business cards and handed it to him.

He took it and read from it. “Where Are They Now?”

“We’re a people-locating service,” Keely informed him.

“Is somebody looking for me or are you just going door-to-door to drum up business?”

“Someone is looking for you.”

“Who?”

“Well, actually, me. But it would be better if we talked inside, in private.”

The grin reappeared. “You’re who’s looking for me and you want privacy?”

Keely ignored the insinuation—and the fact that he seemed to be enjoying himself so much. “Yes, I’m who’s looking for you. Sort of. And it’s privacy I think you’ll want for what I have to tell you.”

Slightly full eyebrows arched, but only in mock wariness. “That sounds ominous. Or maybe it’s just supposed to so I’ll let you inside and then you’ll hit me over the head and have your way with me.”

The idea of having her way with him lit a bit of a spark somewhere in the recesses of Keely. But she ignored it. “Could we just go inside and talk?”

“Is it something I’m going to want to hear?”

“I don’t know you, so I really couldn’t say.”

“It must not be that I’ve won a million dollars or something.”

“No, it isn’t that you’ve won a million dollars.”

“And you don’t know if it’s something I’ll think is bad or not?”

“No, I don’t know that.”

“But it could be that I’ll think it’s good?”

He was toying with her and already she knew that Devon Tarlington was incorrigible.

And she was also already wishing that that obvious streak of bad boy wasn’t so appealing.

But once more she fought to rise above that appeal.

“Do you want to know what I have to tell you or not?” she said, bluffing because there was no way she was leaving here without telling him what she’d come to tell him.

“Let’s see…” He pretended to think about it, studying her face the entire time and—to his credit—not once letting those denim-blue eyes drop below her chin. “A fiery redhead shows up at my door unannounced and wants a secret meeting with me to tell me something important enough for her to have put effort into finding me….”

“I don’t need a secret meeting with you. Just a private one,” she amended.

But the amendment didn’t seem to matter to him because he went on scrutinizing her a moment longer before he pushed off the door and said, “Okay. I can’t resist.” Then he swept an arm in belated invitation and tacked on, “Please, come in.”

Finally, Keely thought as she stepped into his entryway, waiting near the staircase directly ahead of the door while he closed it and turned to face her.

“Would the living room be private enough?” he asked with a poke of his sculpted chin in that direction.

“I think so,” she said, preceding him when he waited for her to.

The room that went with the picture window had clearly been decorated without a woman’s touch. There weren’t any knickknacks or plants or pictures on the walls. There was only a large brown leather sofa and matching overstuffed chair, a coffee table littered with remote controls and TV listings, and an entertainment center complete with big-screen television, VCR, DVD player and an array of stereo equipment that Keely thought she’d need a six-month training course to operate.

“Have a seat, Keely Gilhooley,” he suggested.

Keely ignored the teasing repetition of her name and chose the overstuffed chair to sit on while he perched on the closest arm of the sofa, angled in her direction.

“Now, tell me why you ‘sort of’ came looking for me,” he said, using the words she’d said to him.

“I was looking for you, but not on my own behalf,” she qualified.

“And on whose behalf were you looking for me?” he asked as if this were all nothing more than an amusement to break up an afternoon.

“On behalf of Clarissa Coburn.”

Devon Tarlington didn’t find that name so amusing. His face sobered into a full-out scowl and his blue eyes clouded with instant anger.

“Clarissa Coburn and I have nothing to say to each other,” he said flatly, definitively, devoid of any of the warmth that had been in his voice a split second earlier.

“I’m afraid it isn’t that simple,” Keely said. She was no longer worried that Devon Tarlington might be the kind of man who would strike out at her. She could tell he wasn’t. But that still didn’t make what she had to say any easier.

“It seems pretty simple to me,” he said. “Clarissa Coburn is history and there isn’t anything—anything—to do with her that I’m interested in.”

“She has a son,” Keely said, dropping the bomb to halt what she could see was about to turn into her eviction. “An eight-month-old baby. Harley. And he could be yours.”

She felt bad. The poor guy was so shocked the color drained from his face.

But he rebounded in a hurry and, in a louder voice, said, “Mine? You have to be kidding.”

“I’m not, believe me. This isn’t something I would joke about.”

He shook his head, staring at the floor now rather than at her as if he were replaying something in his mind or trying to get a grip on her announcement. In the process, several things flashed across his expression. Disgust. Disbelief. Denial—or at least the urge to deny. Finally, what looked like anger.

His jaw clenched a few times and his gaze returned to Keely. “Did you say this baby could be mine? Does that mean he might not be?”

The next part was even harder to say. “He could be yours or he could belong to a man named Brian Rooney,” she said quietly.

But for some reason that didn’t come as the additional shock she’d thought it would. It almost seemed to relieve him somewhat.

“Of course,” he said caustically.

So he’d already known there had been someone else with Clarissa at the same time he was with her. Keely had wondered.

But then it registered that the reason he was relieved by that fact was because he hoped Harley was the other man’s child and she couldn’t help feeling protective of the baby who was now in her charge.

She tamped down on that, though, just as she kept having to tamp down on noticing how amazingly handsome Devon Tarlington was. Her own emotions were not relevant in this. She was merely the outsider facilitating what needed to happen from here on.

With that in mind, she continued. “Clarissa has disappeared and left Harley behind. But not before arranging with a lawyer to have custody of him relinquished to his father. As soon as it’s determined which of you is his father.”

That seemed to dissolve whatever small amount of relief Devon Tarlington felt, and every remarkable angle, every chiseled plane of his face tensed all over again.

“So she’s bailed on her own baby, too,” he said through a tight jaw.

“Yes.”

“Where is he?”

That simple question and the concern it showed went a long way in redeeming him.

“Harley is with my sister Hillary. Clarissa had us appointed his temporary guardians until paternity is established and then we’re to turn him over to his father. He’s a great baby, though. Adorable. Even-tempered. As sweet as he can be….”

Okay, she was letting her own emotions rise to the surface again. She had to stop that.

“I’m sure you’ll like him,” she finished feebly.

“Clarissa didn’t have any idea which of us is the father?”

“None.”

Devon Tarlington’s expression was still like a storm cloud and Keely knew she’d tapped into something that was deep and dark for him. But she had to admire the control he was exhibiting. And she appreciated that he didn’t seem to be confusing the message with the messenger the way she’d been afraid he might.

Still, for another long moment, he didn’t speak. He stared off into the distance, pensively, apparently working to absorb this turn of events.

Then he said, “So what now?”

“You were easy to locate. But I haven’t found Brian Rooney yet.”

Devon’s jaw pulsed yet again. Then, in a stilted voice, he said, “Both Brian and I are from a small town out on the eastern plains—Dunbar. You might start looking there. That’s where his family is and they’re bound to know something about him.”

So the two men knew each other. They were even from the same place. A small town. Had they merely been acquainted with each other, or had they been friends? Keely wondered.

But she didn’t pry.

“Is there any chance Brian knew Clarissa was pregnant?” Devon asked then.

“Clarissa said in the letter she left that neither of you knew. Which means that once I locate this other man I’ll have to go to him in person because I don’t think it’s news that should be given over the telephone, especially by a stranger. Plus I’ll need to get some blood from him for typing and DNA comparison—if the blood type alone isn’t conclusive. So really, I’m at the very beginning of this.”

“You’ll need blood from me, too, then, right?”

“Right.”

Devon Tarlington shook his head again, his disgust blatant now. “I can’t believe this.”

“I know it’s a lot to digest,” Keely said softly. “But honestly, it isn’t a joke.”

“Yeah, at the end Clarissa wasn’t quite as many laughs as she started out to be,” he said wryly, more to himself than to her. “So what do you want me to do? Go to my doctor or what?”

“I’ve made arrangements with an independent lab to do the testing. You’ll need to go in to have blood drawn. I haven’t taken Harley in yet, but I will, and then the three samples will be looked at for a match,” she explained.

“Are you sure there’s only two possibilities?” he asked then.

“For who could be Harley’s father? I’m just relaying what I’ve been told—Harley’s dad is either you or Brian Rooney.”

Devon Tarlington nodded, then shook his head yet again, clearly having trouble believing this.

But in spite of that he said, “I can’t go to the lab tomorrow, I have a business meeting that’ll take most of the day. How about Wednesday?”

“Okay.” She was grateful that he wasn’t putting up more of a fuss. She had been worried that he might refuse and she hadn’t had a contingency plan if he did.

“And the baby—did you say he’s with you and your sister now?”

“Yes. We share a house and he’s staying with us.”

“Is that all right with you and your sister?”

Again his concern for someone other than himself earned him points with her. “My sister and I are crazy about him, so yes, it’s okay that he’s with us.”

Devon Tarlington seemed to hesitate then and whatever was going through his mind must have disturbed him because the frown lines were back between his brows before he said, “Maybe I should meet him.”

“It probably wouldn’t do any harm,” Keely agreed.

He sighed once more, obviously struggling fiercely with the possibility of fatherhood. “How about tomorrow? In the evening?” he suggested.

“That would be fine,” she answered, working to fight the slight eruption of excitement she felt at the prospect of seeing this man again herself, an excitement she knew she had no business feeling.

And since she didn’t really have anything else to say to him, she stood to go. “Thank you for not hitting the ceiling,” she said as she did.

Devon Tarlington stood, too, and walked her back to the front door. “I couldn’t very well hit the ceiling with you. You didn’t have anything to do with this, did you?” he asked with a hint of that smile that he’d flashed so easily before he knew what she was there to tell him.

“No, I just wasn’t sure what kind of a reaction I might find. I didn’t think this would be particularly welcome news.”

“Yeah, it probably would have been better to hear that Miss Keely Irish-Eyes Gilhooley had looked me up for something a little more tantalizing,” he agreed in a deep, devilish tone that let her know he’d returned to the teasing he’d greeted her with, albeit more subdued. “But it was nice to meet you anyway.”

“You, too,” she countered, still trying to hide just how nice it was.

“I’ll probably need your address for tomorrow night,” he said then, as if it had just occurred to him.

“Oh. Yes, you probably will need that.”

She took another of her business cards out of her purse, wrote her address on the back and handed it to him, watching as he read it simply because she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

“This is close by,” he said when he glanced from the card to her again.

“It took me about ten minutes to get here.”

“So all this time you’ve been right under my nose and I didn’t even know you were there.”

“Well, not right under your nose, but not too far from here. About six blocks.”

“Strange to think of that,” he mused for no reason she understood.

So, rather than commenting on it, she said, “Then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

“Bet on it,” he answered decisively as she said goodbye and left him standing in the doorway.

And as she returned to her car, Keely wondered if he’d forgotten that he was coming to her place to meet his potential son rather than to see her.

But it gave her a dangerous little thrill just the same.

Chapter Two

C larissa Coburn.

That was a name Devon had hoped never to hear again. And by the next morning, as he went through photographs he’d taken of wild boars in Africa in preparation for his meeting with a gallery owner, he still wasn’t happy that he’d had to.

He considered Clarissa—hands down—the biggest mistake of his life. A mistake he’d already paid dearly for. And now he had to wonder if it was going to haunt him forever.

She’d seemed so perfect for him when he’d met her at a bar in Denver. Dancing on a table, she’d caught his eye immediately, and then she’d literally fallen into his lap and asked him out to dinner.

He’d accepted, of course, pleased by his good fortune and flattered by her initiative. He’d liked her. She was beautiful—tall and leggy, well built, blond, sexy as hell. Not to mention smart and witty and a natural flirt who sucked him in before he even knew she was flirting with him.

Over dinner they’d discovered that they were both free spirits, ready to pack up at a moment’s notice and take off—Devon for work, Clarissa for any reason. To Kenya. To Alaska. To east Asia—they’d both been to some of the farthest reaches of the globe and intended to see even more of it.

They’d found that they shared the same likes and dislikes in food, in music, in movies. They even had similar plans for the future—neither of them were interested in marriage or family until much later in life.

They’d just plain hit it off, which had led to them spending the next three months together.

Three wild months during which Devon hadn’t thought about anything but Clarissa. Three months during which he hadn’t cared if anyone else in the world existed.

Three months during which Clarissa hadn’t thought about anyone but Clarissa, or cared if anyone but Clarissa existed, too.

Because that was also Clarissa.

She was a hedonist—that’s what she’d said about herself. And she’d proved it again and again. If she wanted something, she made sure she got it. If a whim struck her, she followed it. And whatever felt good to her at any given moment was what she did.

Who cared about the consequences? That was something else she’d said more often than he could count. If there were consequences she didn’t like, she just didn’t accept them. Or she let someone else deal with them….

“Apparently even if the consequence was a baby,” Devon muttered to himself as he began to put the pictures he’d chosen into his portfolio.

An eight-month-old baby.

An eight-month-old baby who could be his….

That possibility hadn’t even begun to seem real to Devon yet.

A baby…

He could be a father….

That might be all right for his older brothers. They’d both only recently become dads under unusual circumstances.

“But me?” Devon said.

He didn’t even want to think about it. About what it could mean. About how unsuited he was for parenthood.

He didn’t know the first thing about babies or kids or being a father. He wasn’t domestic—he paid a service to take care of his yard. He employed a neighbor woman to clean his house and do his laundry, to stock his refrigerator if he was going to be around long enough to actually drink milk.

And that was the biggest thing—his being around. He wasn’t. He traveled. A lot. Some months—hell, some years—he was away from home more days than he was there. He didn’t subscribe to a newspaper because he was never around to read it. He didn’t bother with a hardwired telephone or with cable TV because they were a waste of money when he wasn’t there to use them.

Did that sound like the description of someone who should be a father?

Of course it didn’t.

Plus, he didn’t want to be a dad. To be the one person some little kid depended on. For everything. For every mouthful of food. For clean diapers and whatever else babies required that he couldn’t begin to fathom. For clothes and shelter and learning to walk and talk—how was he supposed to know how to teach someone to walk and talk?

And the kid wouldn’t be a baby forever. Then what? Then he’d be the person to teach it right from wrong. The person who had to decide if the kid needed braces and how long to spend on homework and when to let it drive or date or a million other things that parents did.

“Maybe it won’t be mine,” Devon suggested, realizing he was breaking out in a sweat just thinking about what it would entail if Clarissa’s baby was his.

He flipped to the beginning of his portfolio to make sure he had all the photographs in the sequence he wanted them, escaping his own thoughts for a moment.

But only for a moment before the whole subject of a baby, of his own possible parenthood, sneaked back into his mind again.

But it was no easier to believe.

Keely Gilhooley had said it—he—was a good baby, Devon reminded himself as if that might help ease some of the gut-wrenching tension he was experiencing. She’d said Harley was adorable and even-tempered and sweet.

Maybe a little like Keely Gilhooley herself, he thought.

Not that Devon knew anything about her temper or her temperament. But she was pretty adorable.

He’d opened his door to find her on his porch and thought, Well, this is my lucky day.

Little had he known….

But still, Keely Gilhooley—just her name made him smile—was very, very easy to look at. In fact, she was so flawless that, with the autumn sun setting her aglow, for a moment Devon had thought she was some kind of vision.

He had a weakness for redheads. And she was most certainly that. Not just strawberry blond and not the unflattering orangey-red that some people sported. Keely Gilhooley’s hair was deep, rich, glistening red. Cherrywood red. And as if that weren’t enough, it was full and curly, too. The kind of hair that just made him want to grab handfuls of it as if it was a whole bunch of spun silk.

But the hair was only the beginning of her appeal. She had mesmerizing eyes. Great big, round eyes that were green but so light a green they were luminous. Ethereal eyes that might have made him think she were heaven-sent even without the sun making a halo around her.

And if the hair and eyes weren’t enough, she also had skin like a porcelain doll’s. Smooth, perfect radiant skin.

Even her nose was cute—small, narrow, straight—and her lips were pink and full enough not to need lipstick.

Plus her body was nothing to ignore, either. Not too skinny. Not too plump. Firm and compact, with just the right amount up front and in back.

Oh yeah, Keely Gilhooley was something.

“Not that it makes any difference,” he said as he judged his portfolio ready and closed it.

Sure, Keely Gilhooley was great-looking and he’d liked her on sight, but he also knew her type. The same type that had gotten him into trouble on the rebound from Clarissa.

He would bet money that Keely Gilhooley was like Patty Hanson—the woman he’d rebounded with after Clarissa. A hometown kind of girl. Wholesome and homespun. A nice, quiet, sedate woman who probably wanted to settle down. Who wanted a husband with a nine-to-five job. A husband who came home to dinner every evening. Who puttered around the house on the weekends and took her to the movies on Saturday night.

There was nothing wrong with that. It was just that Devon considered himself barely housebroken. And he sure as hell wasn’t a nine-to-fiver who puttered around the house on weekends.

So, regardless of how appealing Miss Keely Gilhooley was, he knew better than to do more than appreciate her from afar.

“But you certainly did improve the scenery while you were here,” he said as if Keely could hear him.

It was true, she had improved the scenery and eased the blow of the earth-rocking news she’d delivered.

That he could be a dad…

Devon’s stomach clenched anew as that possibility brought him up short again all of a sudden.

He could be a dad, and, tonight, for the first time, he was going to see the child who might have brought that about. The baby he might end up having to raise.

It was a daunting thought.

Almost more than he could handle.

And only one thing kept him from totally freaking out at the prospect of the evening to come—the fact that he was also going to see Keely Gilhooley again.

All right, so that wasn’t in keeping with his appreciate-her-from-afar decision.

But still, he was pretty shaken by this turn of events and for now he needed all the incentive he could get to take the next step.

“Is that you, Hill?” Keely called from the bedroom when she heard the front door open.

“It’s me,” her sister called back.

It was nearly seven-thirty in the evening; Keely had given Harley his bath and was getting him ready for bed while he happily chewed on a clean tennis sock he’d adopted as a teething ring.

After coming up the stairs, Hillary appeared at the doorway and took the extra two steps to the changing table to greet Harley with a rub of the tip of her nose to the tip of his. “Hello, sweet baby.”

Harley gave her a slobbery smile for her trouble and she returned to the doorway to lean against the jamb.

Apparently only then did she actually take in Keely.

“Well, look at you!” she said.

Keely was hoping her sister wouldn’t notice that she’d primped a little in anticipation of Devon Tarlington’s visit. As it was, she’d done it almost against her own will—certainly it had been against her better judgment—and she didn’t want to talk about it. So she played dumb. “Look at me? Look at you—you’re all dusty and dirty and smudged. And I think you have cobwebs in your hair.”

Hillary brushed at the reddish-blond hair she wore very short and spiked on top, and slapped at her sweatshirt.

Other than the hair, the two of them resembled each other so much that they were often mistaken for twins. But Hillary was almost a year younger.

“Are they gone?” she asked, leaning over so Keely could see the top of her head.

“All clear. What were you packing that got you so grimy?” Keely asked, to continue the distraction.

“We had to get some of Brad’s stuff out of the attic over there.”

“Over there” was the house where Hillary’s soon-to-be-husband lived. But since Brad had sold the house, he and Hillary were in the process of moving him into Hillary’s and Keely’s place in advance of their wedding in two weeks.

“It seems like you should be just about finished, shouldn’t you?” Keely said.

“Close,” Hillary answered. But rather than offering more than that, she returned to the subject Keely had been trying to avoid. “So, are you having company tonight?”

“Why? Just because my hair is down?”

“And your face is all fresh and you have on my kiss-me lipstick and the sweater set I wore the night I got engaged and the jeans that make your butt look good. I don’t think I’ve seen you so fixed up since your divorce.”

“I didn’t know I’ve looked so bad for the last year.”

“You never look bad. I’m just saying that you haven’t gone to this much trouble in forever. What’s going on?”

Keely hadn’t seen her sister since before the meeting with Devon Tarlington the previous afternoon. Both Hillary and Harley had been at Brad’s house, and that morning Brad alone had dropped Harley off at home. So Keely hadn’t had the chance to fill her sister in.

She did it now, making sure to keep her tone neutral and her eyes on Harley as she tugged on his pajamas.

But, by the time she’d snapped the last snap and informed Hillary that Devon Tarlington would be arriving any minute to see the baby for the first time, Hillary started to laugh.

“You liked him,” she accused.

“I didn’t like like him,” Keely said defensively.

“Is he beautiful?”

“He’s a guy. Guys aren’t beautiful,” she said as if he were nothing remarkable, when the truth was she thought he was about the best-looking man she’d ever laid eyes on.

Hillary saw through her anyway. “Translation—he’s killer-cute,” her sister said.

“It doesn’t matter if he is. I wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole.”

“Why not? Does he smell bad or something?”

Keely had Harley all ready to be put down for the night as soon as Devon Tarlington accomplished what he was coming for so she picked the baby up and settled him on her hip.

“No, Devon Tarlington doesn’t smell bad,” she said. “But he was not happy to hear he could be a father, either. And that’s the last thing I need—another guy who wants to pawn off his responsibilities on someone else.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” Hillary blurted out, half-startling Harley and Keely both. “Mary called.”

Keely fought to keep the pain that statement brought from showing. “When?” she asked as if it was no big deal.

‘Yesterday afternoon when you went to find this Devon Tarlington person.”

“I’m sorry I missed her,” Keely said because it was true, even if any contact with Mary Kent did open the wound she was still working to heal. “What did she have to say?”

As if she were reciting by rote, Hillary said, “She was just checking in to see how you are. She said she’s hard to get hold of because she’s almost always in class or with her friends, so don’t bother calling her back. She’ll try you again in a few days but she hopes the two of you can have lunch or dinner when she’s home for Thanksgiving break.”

“That would be nice.” And not easy for Keely. But she didn’t say that.

Still, Hillary knew the subject was a sore one for her sister so she changed it. “Now tell me about this Devon Tarlington guy.”

“There’s nothing to tell. I found him at his house and told him about Harley and Clarissa and Brian Rooney.”

“How’d he take it?”

“He didn’t explode or anything the way I was afraid he might. Hearing about Harley was a shock, but it didn’t seem to be a big surprise that there’s the possibility someone else could be Harley’s father, too. He must have known Brian Rooney was in the picture—besides, something is up with that because Devon Tarlington and Brian Rooney grew up in the same small town.”

“Really?” Hillary said as if that was intriguing information.

“And he doesn’t like Clarissa,” Keely added.

“Did you tell him to join the club?” Hillary asked as she took one of Harley’s hands and wiggled his arm enough to make him bounce.

Harley giggled and when Hillary released his hand he waved it up and down himself in an attempt to do the same thing she had.

“I didn’t say anything about Clarissa except that she’d disappeared,” Keely explained as if her sister’s comment had been serious. “I told him she’d left us as Harley’s guardians until we could figure out who the father is and hand Harley over to him.”

“And Devon Tarlington wasn’t thrilled with the possibility that he could be the dad?”

“No.”

Hillary obliged Harley when he held his arm out for her to shake again but even as she did her brow furrowed into a frown. “Do you think even if he is the father he won’t take Harley?”

Keely shrugged. “I don’t know. He didn’t say anything one way or another. Except that I think he’s hoping the other guy is the dad.”

“Nice,” Hillary said facetiously.

“It wasn’t really not nice. He’d just heard the news and he was shocked. Plus, obviously things with Clarissa didn’t end well. It can’t be a welcome possibility that he might have a child with her. Who knows? He could adjust to it and be thrilled to be a dad. After all, Harley is a pretty irresistible little dumpling,” she added, nuzzling Harley’s neck and making him giggle again.

“But just in case, you wouldn’t touch Devon Tarlington with a ten-foot pole,” Hillary reminded Keely of her own words.

“Pretty much,” Keely confirmed.

“Except that you got dressed up because he’s coming here.”

“Maybe I just want him to eat his heart out over what he can’t have,” Keely said with mock conceit.

“Or maybe you like like him and you just don’t want to admit it.”

“Even if I admit it I’m not doing anything about it.”

“Anything but letting your hair down.”

“That’s nothing. Do you really think I would be dumb enough ever to get myself into another Alby Kent situation?”

Hillary’s teasing edge softened. “I hope not. I know I don’t ever want to see you hurt like that again.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry,” Keely assured her.

The doorbell rang just then and Keely hated the fact that despite all her claims, the knowledge that Devon Tarlington was on their front porch sent a little wave of excitement through her.

“There he is,” she said, regretting that it came out sounding breathless.

Hillary pushed off the doorjamb.

“I’ll get it,” she said, leaving Keely and Harley behind in what Keely knew was her eagerness to get a look at Devon Tarlington.

Carrying Harley, Keely followed, reaching the entry as her sister opened the door.

And when she did, there stood the man who had not been off Keely’s mind since the afternoon before, looking even better than she remembered in a navy-blue Henley shirt, a sport coat and a pair of jeans.

“Hi,” he said to Hillary, “I’m Devon Tarlington. And I’ll bet you’re Keely Gilhooley’s sister.”

“Hillary,” Hillary countered as she opened the screen door to let him in.

He stepped inside, catching sight of Keely only then. But the moment he did, he smiled a smile that rippled from his oh-so-supple mouth all the way up to his eyes where it settled and radiated a warmth Keely thought she could almost feel.

“Hello again,” she said simply enough, trying not to be affected by that megawatt smile.

“Hi,” he repeated.

Then his gaze went from her to Harley and she watched tension tighten his features. “Let me guess, this must be the man in question.”

“This is Harley,” Keely offered, catching sight of Hillary standing behind Devon Tarlington and mouthing, “Killer cute!”

Hillary closed the door and joined them.

But because Keely was a little afraid her sister might say or do something to embarrass her—and maybe because she didn’t want her sister intruding on this—she said, “I think we’ll be okay on our own, Hill. You can get to that shower you wanted to take.”

“Did I want to take a shower?” Hillary asked in mock ignorance.

“Yes, you did,” Keely insisted.

Hillary let her gaze roll pointedly from Keely to Devon and back to Keely before she said, “I guess that means I’m leaving.”

“Right.”

“Nice to meet you,” Hillary said to Devon.

“Uh, you, too,” he responded, sounding confused by what was passing between the sisters.

Hillary retraced her path to the stairs but not without pausing to whisper to Keely, “This has to be who Clarissa left the other guy for.”

Keely didn’t respond, but instead kept her attention on Devon Tarlington and said, “Shall we do this in the living room where we can all be comfortable?”

“Whatever you think,” he agreed.

Keely’s and Hillary’s house was similar to Devon’s, only the living room was to the left of the entry. Unlike Devon’s bare-necessities decorating, their home was done in a cozy French-country style, keeping to dark blues and brick reds with a dash of mustard yellow here and there to brighten it up.

The furniture was all well-cushioned and comfy. A braided rug occupied the center of the hardwood floor and a large sofa and two chairs stood around a rustic coffee table. Also unlike Devon’s living room, the focal point was the antique fireplace, not the entertainment center which, in this case, was an armoire hiding a television and stereo system.

“Would you like to see if Harley will come to you?” Keely asked as she turned on the wrought-iron pole lamps that were sentries on either side of the couch.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Devon said without a moment’s hesitation. “I wouldn’t even know what to do with him. I was around babies a couple of times as a kid but my older brother did the handling. I was the go-for—you know, go for the diapers, go for the bottles, that kind of thing.”

“Your brother baby-sat?” Keely said, surprised.

“It’s a long story.”

And he didn’t seem inclined to tell it.

Or maybe he just couldn’t because he was so distracted by Harley. He was staring at the baby as if Harley were something to be wary of, something he didn’t want to get too close to but had better keep an eye on.

“Why don’t we sit down?” Keely suggested, hoping to ease some of his tension.

She sat at one end of the couch, and once she did, Devon took the easy chair that gave him the most distance from her and Harley.

“I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do here,” he confessed then. “Should I talk to him or throw him a ball or something?”

Keely had settled Harley on her lap with his back against her and she craned forward to peer down over his head to see what the infant’s response was to Devon.

Harley was watching him as warily as Devon was eyeing the baby.

“He’s a little young to throw a ball,” Keely informed. “If one appeals to him it’s usually only because he’s decided to try to get it into his mouth.”

“Does he always chew socks, too?” Devon asked with obvious distaste as he watched Harley gnaw at the clothing.

“It’s clean,” Keely assured with a laugh. “He has two teeth on bottom and he’s getting more, so it must feel good on his gums. We keep it in the fridge because he also likes it cold.”

“You keep socks in your refrigerator?”

“Not before Harley adopted them as chew toys. But it makes him happy.”

“Can he do anything? Like walk or talk?” Devon asked, obviously attempting to figure Harley out.

“He crawls a little,” Keely said, content to fill Devon in. “And if he’s near the coffee table he’ll pull himself up onto his knees. But he’s pretty wobbly. And as for talking, sometimes it seems like he’s trying to repeat something we’ve said but so far it isn’t coming out as anything we can understand.”

“So he’s kind of like having a miniature space alien around.”

Keely laughed again. Not only at what Devon said, but also at the way he said it and the forlorn expression that had his brows at odd angles above his denim-blue eyes. The whole concept of Harley really did seem foreign to him.

But still she defended Harley. “He’s not an alien. He’s a sweetheart.”

Devon didn’t appear to be convinced. But he didn’t refute her statement, either. Instead he continued his fact-finding mission. “Does he eat food or drink a bottle or—”

“Both. He eats baby food and he takes a bottle.”

“Can he feed himself?”

“He can hold his own bottle. We don’t give him bottles that way except at night, though. We hold him to give him his bottles through the day and then when we put him to bed at night we let him have it on his own in the crib. But we have to go in and check on him after a few minutes because he’ll usually have dropped it once he’s fallen asleep and we take it away then.”

“Sounds like a lot of work.”

And what she’d told him wasn’t even a drop in the bucket.

But Keely didn’t say that because she didn’t want Devon any more leery than he already was. She also didn’t want to mislead him, so she said, “Babies are a lot of work. But they’re worth it.”

“I’ll reserve judgment on that,” he said more to himself than to her. Then, definitely to her, he said, “Could you get him to take the sock away so I could have a look at his whole face?”

Once more, Keely bent over Harley. “I don’t know. What do you say, Harley? Can the nice man see you? Can you show him your teeth?”

She tugged at the dangling end of the sock and the baby let it be pulled out of his mouth, but he didn’t release his grip on it. And he ignored the request to reveal his two bottom teeth. He just continued to stare suspiciously at Devon while Devon took inventory of Harley’s chubby cheeks and button nose, of his big brown eyes and the light tufts of downy, honey-colored hair.

“Can you make him smile?” Devon requested after a few moments of studying the baby.

The way he said it made Keely think he was looking for something other than Harley’s two teeth. But she had no idea what and since he wasn’t forthcoming she didn’t feel she should ask.

“I don’t know,” she told him honestly. “It’s his bedtime and he’s not usually too jovial when he’s tired.”

Then, from above Harley again, she said to the baby, “Do you want to do patty-cake?”

Harley rejected the idea by putting the sock back in his mouth.

“Sorry,” Keely apologized to Devon. “In the daytime he smiles a lot.”

“When he does, does he have any dimples? Especially one over the corner of his mouth?” Devon asked then.

So that was what he was looking for. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Because my mother and my oldest brother’s daughter have a dimple.”

“Ah, so you wondered if Harley had one as a sign that he might be yours. No, no dimple. Actually, he resembles Clarissa pretty strongly.”

“I noticed that.”

Harley let his head fall heavily against Keely then, and she knew he was fading. “I should probably get him to bed,” she informed Devon without much enthusiasm. It wasn’t that she wanted Harley to stay up, but she thought that since Devon had come specifically to see the infant, once Harley was gone, Devon would leave, too. Which, of course, was as it should be.

But he’d just gotten there and, even though she knew she should resist it, she didn’t want him to go yet.

Then, as if her wish for more time with him had been granted, he said, “I’m curious about a couple of things. Would it be all right if we talk after he’s in bed?”

“Sure,” Keely agreed too quickly to leave him any doubts that she was willing.

She stood with Harley and tried to get him to wave bye-bye. But he still wouldn’t let go of the sock and after a few attempts she admitted defeat. Then she took the baby to the kitchen to microwave his bottle and went upstairs to put him down for the night.

By the time she returned to the living room, Devon Tarlington had removed his jacket and, although he was sitting right where he’d been before, he seemed considerably more relaxed.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Keely offered. “Wine? Beer? Coffee?”

“No, thanks. Just your company will be great.”

Okay, there was no good reason that comment should please her so much, she told herself as she sat at the end of the sofa nearest to him, curling her legs underneath her.

“Well, what do you think?” she asked bluntly then. “Besides not having the family dimple, did you see a resemblance in Harley?”

“No, I didn’t. But I don’t suppose that means anything one way or another.”

“Probably not,” Keely agreed.

“How did you and your sister get into this?” he asked then.

“By buying this house.”

Devon glanced around. “How did buying this house get you involved in my potential mess? Did Harley come with it or what?”

“No, Harley didn’t come with it. We just bought it and the payments are nothing to sneeze at. Neither is the upkeep. So we decided to offset some of the expense by getting a housemate and we ran an ad in the newspaper.”

“And Clarissa answered it,” Devon finished for her.

“She and Harley. We weren’t crazy about that at first. There was only one room other than mine and Hillary’s, but Clarissa insisted it didn’t matter, that she and Harley could share it. After about half an hour with Harley we’d fallen in love with him, so we agreed to accept them as housemates.”

“Maybe he is mine,” Devon joked as if Harley’s charm could be attributed to him.

It made Keely laugh. “I don’t know, if you can’t see the benefits in chewing cold socks I have my doubts.”

“Okay then, I guess we can skip the blood test and I can just go on about my business.”

“Sorry, you’re not off the hook that easily.”

Keely liked the way his face lit up when he laughed. The way tiny lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes. She liked the sound of his laughter and the fact that he had a sense of humor. But she tried not to pay so much attention to those things and went on answering his question about how she and Hillary came to be in the position they were in with Harley.

“Anyway,” she said, “that was six months ago. Shortly after Clarissa moved in she began to abuse the arrangement. She was constantly asking either Hillary or me to baby-sit, and it wasn’t that we minded, it was just that once Clarissa was out she didn’t tend to come back when she said she would.”

“That sounds like Clarissa,” Devon muttered somewhat under his breath. “What starts out seeming fun and spontaneous ends up just being irresponsible.”

“That about sums it up. Anyway, at first she’d just be a few hours late. Then she’d call and say she was spending the night with whoever she was with, she’d be back in the morning before Harley woke up. Then she started staying away for days at a time and nothing we did or said made any difference to her. She wasn’t really even apologetic.”

“That sounds like Clarissa, too.”

“Last week she disappeared completely. Apparently, at some point while Hill and I were gone she’d moved her things out of the house, because she said she was running to the store while Harley napped and then she never came back. When Harley woke up and we went in to get him we realized his things were all that was left in there. Except a manila envelope that had information about the lawyer and the documents assigning Hill and me as Harley’s temporary guardians, and the letter telling us either you are Harley’s dad or Brian Rooney is, that we should figure out which of you it is and turn Harley over to his father.”

“So she managed to give you quite a surprise, too.”

“To say the least. We contacted the lawyer and he confirmed everything. Clarissa had flown the coop.”

Devon was shaking his head. “Amazing.”

“I’m sure we could find her,” Keely continued. “But it just seems like a waste of time. Clarissa made it clear to the attorney that she doesn’t want anything to do with Harley. And to tell you the truth, it isn’t as if she was good for him before this. She didn’t care if he was clean or fed, if he had what he needed in any way. Hill and I actually thought that she might have just left him in his crib and taken off whether we were here or not. But if you really wanted me to—”

“Don’t go looking for her on my account,” Devon said before she could finish that. Then he changed the subject. “But there’s one thing I have been considering since you showed up at my door yesterday. I think I should be with you when you tell Brian Rooney what’s going on.”

“Why is that?”

“A couple of reasons. He’s kind of a hothead for one and it’s hard to say how he’ll take this.”

“Oh, so I can spring it on you but you don’t think I can spring it on him?”

“I’d just feel better if you didn’t have to spring it on him by yourself. Plus, just in case he does something stupid—like refuse to give blood for the test— I’d like to be there to help persuade him. Since I have a pretty high stake in this.”

For a moment Keely studied Devon, wondering what form his persuasion might take and if it was wise to have him along when she told the other man about Harley.

He did have a high stake in this, she conceded. And she wasn’t thrilled with the idea of being on her own when she told yet another complete stranger—a complete stranger who apparently had a short fuse—that he might be the father of Clarissa’s child.

“What did you have in mind in the way of ‘persuading’ him if he refuses to give blood?” she asked.

Devon smiled again. “I won’t bring along a baseball bat, if that’s what you’re afraid of. I just want to be there as your backup.”

Was there a hint of flirting in that last part?

Keely couldn’t be sure. But even so, it caused goose bumps to erupt up and down her arms.

“Let me think about it,” she hedged, suddenly more concerned with her involuntary response to this man than with what might happen between him and Brian Rooney if she got them together.

“Okay,” Devon said, easily accepting that it was her decision.

He stood then. “I should probably get going.”

Keely fought a huge rise of disappointment, but she stood, too, absolutely forbidding herself to say anything to delay his departure. This was business, after all, not a social call, and their business, for the moment, was concluded.

“Have you taken Harley into the lab for his blood test yet?” Devon asked on the way to the front door once he’d replaced his sport coat.

“Not yet, no.”

“Then how about if I pick you both up tomorrow and we go together?”

That caught Keely off guard.

“Harley’s naps kind of dictate things,” she said as they reached the entry, realizing that really wasn’t an answer.

“I’m flexible. What’s good for you?”

“It’s usually hard to get much done until two-thirty or three in the afternoon.”

“That’s fine. And then after we hit the lab, how would you feel about a trip to the zoo?”

“The zoo?” Keely repeated, even more confused. Was he just trying to arrange some time to get better acquainted with Harley? Or was there something else to this?

“I’ve signed on to take pictures for a new fundraising brochure—” He cut himself short and explained, “I’m a wildlife photographer. Anyway, I wanted to take a look around, get some preliminary ideas of what I might want to shoot. And since it’s the zoo, I was thinking—zoo, kids—maybe you and Harley might like to go.”

It seemed reasonable enough when he said it like that. And not as if he had any ulterior motives. Maybe it was just a friendly invitation to something he had to do whether they went along or not, and there honestly wasn’t anything else to it. Except maybe getting more comfortable with Harley.

“Harley would love it,” she admitted, making sure Devon knew the baby was the only reason she would consider it. “And I suppose it would be a good treat after putting him through whatever the lab has to do to him. It would also give the two of you more exposure to each other in case you do turn out to be father and son.”

And maybe she was just rationalizing because she wanted to go. Although it wasn’t the animals in the zoo that were inspiring her. It was the company she’d be keeping. She just didn’t want to admit that, even to herself.

“Great,” Devon said into her wandering thoughts. “Then I’ll come by around two-thirty and we’ll go whenever Harley wakes up.”

“All right.”

Devon opened the door to leave but before he did he paused.

“There’s something else that keeps bothering me about this whole thing,” he said then, sounding reluctant to bring it up. “You may not know the answer to this, but Clarissa never wanted to have kids. I’m surprised she went through with it.”

“I do know the answer to that because she told us. But I’m not sure you want to hear it.”

“I’d rather hear it than go on wondering.”

“Until the letter, the only thing she said about Harley’s dad was that things hadn’t worked out with him and she’d gone on to greener pastures. Those ‘greener pastures’ involved a very wealthy man who owned a yacht and she’d taken off with him to sail the south seas.”

“No sense letting any grass grow under her feet just because she’d been juggling two other men,” Devon said.

“She spent several months sailing,” Keely continued, “and she said she lost track of a lot of time. And since her…cycles…were never regular anyway and she’d always practiced safe sex, it didn’t even cross her mind that she could be pregnant. It wasn’t until after she’d started to show that she even went to a doctor and by then it was too late to terminate the pregnancy. She was pretty open about the fact that she regretted not having had that option because she would have taken it.”

Actually, what Clarissa had said was that condom failure and not being able to have an abortion were the worst things that had ever happened to her, but Keely didn’t want to repeat it that way.

Devon nodded. “I guess that explains it.” Then he focused those blue eyes on her and smiled again. “I think Harley was lucky he fell into your hands when he did.”

Keely didn’t know how to respond to that, so all she said was, “He has us wrapped around his little finger.”

“Now I know he’s really a lucky man,” Devon said with a devilish grin.

He was looking at her very intently and for no reason Keely could imagine, she was suddenly struck with an overwhelming curiosity about what it might be like to have him kiss her.

Which, of course, was too ridiculous an idea to entertain, and she told herself so.

But there it was anyway—that handsome-in-the-extreme face not too far away, and those piercing eyes, and those smooth lips. And kissing was definitely what she was thinking about….

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” she blurted out, not intending to sound as if she were encouraging him to leave, but sounding that way just the same because she was in too much of a panic to escape those other, horribly inappropriate and unwanted thoughts. And inclinations.

“I’ll be here,” he assured, taking his cue and stepping out onto her porch. “Enjoy what’s left of your evening,” he added as he headed down the steps to his waiting SUV.

Why did I have to do that? she asked herself disgustedly, wishing she hadn’t just nearly kicked him out.

But even as she chastised herself she still stood there in the open doorway and watched him go, taking in the sight of a rear end that surely qualified for derriere of the decade.

And all the while she wondered what Clarissa Coburn had gotten her into.

On a more personal level.

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