Anne Peters - My Baby, Your Son

Cover Page

Excerpt

Dear Reader Dear Reader, Love is always in the air at Silhouette Romance. But this month, it might take a while for the characters of May’s stunning lineup to figure that out! Here’s what some of them have to say: “I’ve just found out the birth mother of my son is back in town. What’s a protective single dad to do?”—FABULOUS FATHER Jared O’Neal in Anne Peters’s My Baby, Your Son “What was I thinking, inviting a perfect—albeit beautiful—stranger to stay at my house?”—member of THE SINGLE DADDY CLUB, Reece Newton, from Beauty and the Bachelor Dad by Donna Clayton “I’ve got one last chance to keep my ranch but it means agreeing to marry a man I hardly know!”—Rose Murdock from The Rancher’s Bride by Stella Bagwell, part of her TWINS ON THE DOORSTEP miniseries “Would you believe my little white lie of a fiancé just showed up—and he’s better than I ever imagined!” —Ellen Rhoades, one of our SURPRISE BRIDES in Myrna Mackenzie’s The Secret Groom “I will not allow my search for a bride to be waylaid by that attractive, but totally unsuitable, redhead again!”—sexy rancher Rafe McMasters in Cowboy Seeks Perfect Wife by Linda Lewis “We know Sabrina would be the perfect mom for us—we just have to convince Dad to marry her!”—the precocious twins from Gayle Kaye’s Daddyhood Happy Reading! Melissa Senate Senior Editor Please address questions and book requests to: Silhouette Reader Service U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269 Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

Title Page My Baby, Your Son Anne Peters www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author ANNE PETERS shares her Pacific Northwest home with her husband, Manfred, and their aged dog, Adrienne. Anne treasures her family and friends, her private times, her creativity and, last but by no means least, her readers.

Dear Reader Dear Reader, I wasn’t even twenty-one the first time I held Tyler. It had only been seven months since April told me she was pregnant, seven months since I panicked and she’d left, seven months to get used to the idea of fatherhood. But I hadn’t thought about it because though I knew I had fathered a child, I could pretend it hadn’t really happened because April was gone. I didn’t see the baby grow inside of her, didn’t feel his first kick, didn’t bond with him the way other expectant fathers get a chance to do. All of which made the reality of fatherhood, of actually holding in my arms the life I’d helped to create, more overwhelming and powerful than I have words to describe. I was thrilled, I was awed, I was scared. And, just like that, I grew up. He, not I, became my reason for being. His happiness, not mine, came first Selflessness, I learned, is part of fatherhood. But so is jealousy, I came to find out when April reappeared on the scene. And fear, fear of loss. It took me a while to realize that fatherhood combined with motherhood results in parenthood. And that since parenthood is the natural order of things, there can be no losses, only wins. Fatherhood—I guess it made a man out of me. Regards, Jared O’Neal

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Copyright

April asked Jared incredulously. “That’s what our son said?”

“His very words.” Jared paced the cedar deck. “Look, don’t get me wrong,” he said. “I’m all for getting along—for Tyler’s sake,” he felt compelled to add.

“Of course. Tyler needs to understand that… marriage is out of the question.”

Somehow, hearing what he had already surmised didn’t cheer Jared as much as it should. Though she was right, of course. There was no way. There couldn’t be. “Right.”

“We need to show Tyler how it is between us.”

“Uh-huh.” Though outwardly attentive, and conceding that what she said made perfect sense, Jared once again found himself listening with only half a mind. The other half, and all of his body, kept straying into forbidden territory.

He watched April’s lips move as she spoke and all he could think of was how much he wanted to kiss her.

Dear Reader,

Love is always in the air at Silhouette Romance. But this month, it might take a while for the characters of May’s stunning lineup to figure that out! Here’s what some of them have to say:

“I’ve just found out the birth mother of my son is back in town. What’s a protective single dad to do?”—FABULOUS FATHER Jared O’Neal in Anne Peters’s My Baby, Your Son

“What was I thinking, inviting a perfect—albeit beautiful—stranger to stay at my house?”—member of THE SINGLE DADDY CLUB, Reece Newton, from Beauty and the Bachelor Dad by Donna Clayton

“I’ve got one last chance to keep my ranch but it means agreeing to marry a man I hardly know!”—Rose Murdock from The Rancher’s Bride by Stella Bagwell, part of her TWINS ON THE DOORSTEP miniseries

“Would you believe my little white lie of a fiancé just showed up—and he’s better than I ever imagined!” —Ellen Rhoades, one of our SURPRISE BRIDES in Myrna Mackenzie’s The Secret Groom

“I will not allow my search for a bride to be waylaid by that attractive, but totally unsuitable, redhead again!”—sexy rancher Rafe McMasters in Cowboy Seeks Perfect Wife by Linda Lewis

“We know Sabrina would be the perfect mom for us—we just have to convince Dad to marry her!”—the precocious twins from Gayle Kaye’s Daddyhood

Happy Reading!

Melissa Senate

Senior Editor

Please address questions and book requests to: Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269 Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

www.millsandboon.co.uk

shares her Pacific Northwest home with her husband, Manfred, and their aged dog, Adrienne. Anne treasures her family and friends, her private times, her creativity and, last but by no means least, her readers.

Dear Reader,

I wasn’t even twenty-one the first time I held Tyler. It had only been seven months since April told me she was pregnant, seven months since I panicked and she’d left, seven months to get used to the idea of fatherhood. But I hadn’t thought about it because though I knew I had fathered a child, I could pretend it hadn’t really happened because April was gone. I didn’t see the baby grow inside of her, didn’t feel his first kick, didn’t bond with him the way other expectant fathers get a chance to do.

All of which made the reality of fatherhood, of actually holding in my arms the life I’d helped to create, more overwhelming and powerful than I have words to describe. I was thrilled, I was awed, I was scared. And, just like that, I grew up.

He, not I, became my reason for being. His happiness, not mine, came first Selflessness, I learned, is part of fatherhood. But so is jealousy, I came to find out when April reappeared on the scene. And fear, fear of loss.

It took me a while to realize that fatherhood combined with motherhood results in parenthood. And that since parenthood is the natural order of things, there can be no losses, only wins.

Fatherhood—I guess it made a man out of me.

Regards,

Jared O’Neal

New York City

“Excuse me, Miz Bingham…”

“Yes?” With a sigh, April turned her attention from the stunning view of Central Park in June to the shriveled- potato features of Spuds Miller, her twin brother Marcus’s portly factotum. “Is the limo here?”

“No, ma’am.” The old man extended a bulky manila envelope. “This just came for you by messenger.”

“Oh?” April accepted the package without enthusiasm. One of the drawbacks of being a renowned concert pianist was being inundated with a barrage of musical scores from struggling composers and wannabes. Usually, though, there were people around to intercept them. “Where’s my mother?”

“Miz Rhinegold and Mr. Marcus are in the den, having one of their…uh, discussions.”

“I see.” April grimaced. “And here I thought we’d for once be able to make an uneventful getaway.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

With an inward smile at the old man’s pointedly non- committal attitude, April glanced down at the envelope. “‘Harper and Tymes, Attorneys At Law,’” she read, and asked Spuds with a frown, “Isn’t that the firm that handled Aunt Marje’s will?”

“I believe so, yes.” Much more than a servant, Spuds Miller was up on everything that concerned the Bingham family, but believed in keeping a low profile. “A Mr. Cur- tis, I believe.”

“Exactly.” Puzzled, April tore open the envelope. Let- ting it drift to the floor, she stared at the leather-bound volume in her hands. The initials M.B.S. were stenciled on the front in faded gold.

“Marjorie Bingham Smythe.” A small catch roughened her voice. “Oh, Spuds, I can’t count the times I’ve watched my aunt write in this journal.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Spuds bent to retrieve the discarded en- velope, peered inside and extracted a folded sheet of vel- lum. “It appears there’s a letter to go with it.”

“Thank you.” One-handedly, April shook it open. In an undertone she read, “Darling April, by the time this reaches you, I’ll be dead and buried. Cliff House and the rest of my estate will have been settled, divided equally between Marcus and you. I’ve kept aside this diary for your eyes only….”

April’s voice faltered. In silence she rapidly scanned the few lines that followed and looked up. “I need to sit down.”

She groped for the nearest chair. Spuds rushed to pull it close. “Shall I—”

“No,” April interrupted with an emphatic shake of the head. “Just leave me. Please, I—”

“Of course.” Ever discreet, Spuds was already on his way. “Not to worry.”

Her gaze once again on the letter, April made no reply. From its pages, she read with eyes gone gritty and with the blood pounding in her ears, you will learn that a terrible secret has been kept from you, a secret I find I cannot bear to take with me to the grave. Darling April, your baby, your son, is alive….

Capstan, WA. One week later…

April hadn’t meant to stop at the school. She was on her way to Cliff House, which was to be her home for the next several months, at least. But driving by the school yard she’d noticed the Little League baseball game in progress and something had urged her to pull over and watch.

Nostalgia? Yes, but something else, too. Something less definable but more compelling. Something that had her threading her fingers through the chain-link fence and straining to see.

Just to the left of her, a scattering of spectating friends and family dotted the bleachers behind the backstop. Shouts of encouragement and advice for the batter blended with the twhack of the ball connecting with the catcher’s mitt and the umpire’s gravel-voiced call. “Steeerike!”

It was all so familiar, so very much like those other ball games during those other summers a decade and more ago, that April half expected to see her brother Mark in the dugout and Jared O’Neal winding up for the pitch. Why, even the blue-and-white uniforms of the Capstan Gulls hadn’t changed.