Karen Booth - The Best Man's Baby

It’s a second-chance baby!

Julia Keys has everything going for her—beauty, brains and a Hollywood career. So why does she keep ending up in Logan Brandt’s bed? The sexy former pro baseball player has wreaked havoc on her heart for years. But when their latest fling ends with a plus sign on the pregnancy test, Logan makes the case for marriage.

Julia knows the only wedding in their future is the one they’re both attending, no matter how hot the chemistry between them still burns. Can two high school sweethearts who’ve made a mess of love finally get it right...even if the baby isn’t Logan’s?

“I’m not sure I believe you when you said you didn’t feel anything earlier today. When we kissed in front of the cameras.”

Logan’s voice was low, resonating throughout her body. It wasn’t just the kiss that made her feel something. Everything about him made her feel, and that was a terrifying feeling. Leaving herself open to him eventually led to hurt. Always.

A heavy sigh escaped her lungs. “It was a kiss. It didn’t change my world,” she lied.

Logan reared back his head and brought their dance to a stop. “I don’t believe you.”

“It was hours ago. I hardly even remember it.”

“Then let me refresh your memory.”

He clutched her neck and lowered his lips to hers. His mouth drifted to her cheek, his stubble scratching her nose, then he traveled to her jaw and kissed her neck. She kept her eyes closed, luxuriating in every heavenly press of his lips, not wanting it to end.

“Tell me you don’t feel anything,” he whispered into her ear.

“I don’t feel anything.” The truth was that she was feeling everything right now. Her entire body was so alert she could probably stay awake for the next twenty-four hours.

“You said it yourself earlier today. You’re a terrible liar.”

The Best Man’s Baby

Karen Booth

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KAREN BOOTHis a Midwestern girl transplanted in the South, raised on ’80s music, Judy Blume and the films of John Hughes. She writes sexy, big-city love stories. When she takes a break from the art of romance, she’s teaching her kids about good music, honing her Southern cooking skills or sweet-talking her husband into whipping up a batch of cocktails. Find out more about Karen at www.karenbooth.net.

For Bryony Evens, my sweet and lovely friend.

May the handsome guy in the flower shop

always flirt with you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text It’s a second-chance baby! Julia Keys has everything going for her—beauty, brains and a Hollywood career. So why does she keep ending up in Logan Brandt’s bed? The sexy former pro baseball player has wreaked havoc on her heart for years. But when their latest fling ends with a plus sign on the pregnancy test, Logan makes the case for marriage. Julia knows the only wedding in their future is the one they’re both attending, no matter how hot the chemistry between them still burns. Can two high school sweethearts who’ve made a mess of love finally get it right...even if the baby isn’t Logan’s?

Introduction “I’m not sure I believe you when you said you didn’t feel anything earlier today. When we kissed in front of the cameras.” Logan’s voice was low, resonating throughout her body. It wasn’t just the kiss that made her feel something. Everything about him made her feel, and that was a terrifying feeling. Leaving herself open to him eventually led to hurt. Always. A heavy sigh escaped her lungs. “It was a kiss. It didn’t change my world,” she lied. Logan reared back his head and brought their dance to a stop. “I don’t believe you.” “It was hours ago. I hardly even remember it.” “Then let me refresh your memory.” He clutched her neck and lowered his lips to hers. His mouth drifted to her cheek, his stubble scratching her nose, then he traveled to her jaw and kissed her neck. She kept her eyes closed, luxuriating in every heavenly press of his lips, not wanting it to end. “Tell me you don’t feel anything,” he whispered into her ear. “I don’t feel anything.” The truth was that she was feeling everything right now. Her entire body was so alert she could probably stay awake for the next twenty-four hours. “You said it yourself earlier today. You’re a terrible liar.”

Title Page The Best Man’s Baby Karen Booth www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author KAREN BOOTH is a Midwestern girl transplanted in the South, raised on ’80s music, Judy Blume and the films of John Hughes. She writes sexy, big-city love stories. When she takes a break from the art of romance, she’s teaching her kids about good music, honing her Southern cooking skills or sweet-talking her husband into whipping up a batch of cocktails. Find out more about Karen at www.karenbooth.net .

Dedication For Bryony Evens, my sweet and lovely friend. May the handsome guy in the flower shop always flirt with you.

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

One

Julia Keys ducked out of the cab in front of her childhood home amid a hailstorm of camera flashes and shouts from reporters.

Where’s Derek, Julia? Is he flying in from LA for your sister’s wedding?

Is it true you and Derek are shopping for a house together?

Any chance you and Derek will tie the knot?

Ludicrous questions, and yet they kept coming. She wouldn’t date Derek, her current costar, if her life depended on it. The idea made her queasier than her first trimester morning sickness, and that was saying a lot.

Dodging reporters and lugging a week’s worth of designer clothes in a roller bag, she marched up the walk, past the rhododendron that had been in full bloom at the beginning of summer, the last time she’d been back in Wilmington. That was also the last time Logan Brandt had stomped on her heart. The very last time. Or at least that was the plan.

Her father raced down the stairs of the wraparound porch and folded her into his arms. “Y’all need to learn some manners,” he yelled to the media militia assembled at the curb.

At least the local press had enough respect to stay off private property. The same could not be said for the paparazzi in a big city like New York or Los Angeles. A film career spanning nearly a decade had left Julia a reluctant pro. Judging by the frantic phone call from her publicist that morning, when the story of her nonexistent romance first broke, the press would be arriving in waves over the next several hours.

“Sorry about that, Daddy. Don’t talk to them. They’ll go away if we don’t say anything.” She pressed a kiss to her father’s clean-shaven face. It was framed by thick, chocolate-brown hair—the same color as Julia’s, except his had gone salt-and-pepper at the temples. The few wrinkles he had showed deep concern. Of course he was worried—one daughter was getting married, and the other, according to the strangers still yammering at them, had questionable taste in men. When her real predicament—the one that would make her father a granddad—finally came to light, she could only hope he’d stay as relatively calm as he was now.

Her father ushered her inside, which was only about ten degrees cooler than the eighty-degree day. She knew better than to ask her dad to adjust the thermostat. As far as he was concerned, it was September, and therefore autumn, which meant air-conditioning was no longer needed. Never mind that summer in coastal North Carolina could stretch on until Halloween.

Her mother strolled into the living room wearing a pink sleeveless blouse and white capri pants, auburn hair back in a ponytail, pearls completing the look, as always. She wiped her hands with a checkered kitchen towel. Julia’s younger sister, Tracy, brought up the rear. Spitting image of their mother and the bride-to-be, Tracy was a fresh-faced vision in a turquoise sundress, staring down Julia as if she were evil incarnate. Julia was now liking her chances with the school of piranha masquerading as the media outside.

Mom offered a hug and a kiss. “It’s good to see you, hon. I feel so spoiled having you home for the second time in three months.”

Three months. Just enough time to get pregnant. “The high school reunion was one thing. It’s not every day my baby sister gets married.” Julia went in for a hug from her sister.

Tracy was having none of that, planting her hands on her hips. “How long are we going to pretend that Jules isn’t ruining my wedding? If y’all are going to stand around and chitchat like nothing is wrong, I’m asking Carter to fix me a stiff drink.”

It physically hurt to know that her arrival didn’t warrant a hug, but Julia couldn’t blame her sister. If the roles had been reversed, she’d be mad as a hornet about the frenzy in the front yard. “I’m sorry about the mess outside, but it’s all a stupid lie. The press has been hinting at something between Derek and me since before we even started filming. Trust me, I’m not involved with him.”

“I saw the photos. You’re practically kissing him.” Her mother’s sweet drawl teetered on practically. “Are you denying it because you’re not proud of the way he’s behaved? They said he’s been arrested for public intoxication seven times. Why would you want to be with a man like that?”

Julia shook her head, sweat already beading up on her skin. If the press could sell this contrivance of a story to her own mother, they could convince anyone. “Mom. Listen to me.” She grasped her shoulders. “I swear there’s nothing going on with Derek. Yes, it looks like a kiss. We were rehearsing a scene. I have zero interest in him. And he has no interest in me.” And he has the world’s worst breath.

“Then go outside and tell those buzzards precisely that.” Julia’s father teased back the drapes, peering outside. “We spent an awful lot of money on this wedding. I’m not about to see it ruined.”

If only her father knew the lengths to which Julia was already going to not ruin her sister’s wedding—namely keeping a pregnancy under her hat, which was absolutely killing her. Why couldn’t things be normal? Just once? If her life were normal, she’d walk into this room and tell her parents she was pregnant. Her mother would probably burst with excitement, then sport the start of a nine-month-long smile and ask a million questions. Her father would sidle up to Julia’s loving, handsome husband and congratulate him with a firm handshake and a clap on the back. But of course, things couldn’t be normal. No husband had materialized in Julia’s twenty-nine years on earth, and that was of little consequence compared to not knowing whether her ex or Logan Brandt was the baby’s father. Oops.

“You have to trust me,” Julia said. “If we say anything, they’ll just ask more questions. We should ignore them and focus on Tracy.” Please. Anything so I can stop fixating on wanting to blurt out that I have a tiny top-secret bundle of joy in my belly.

Tracy snorted and shook her head. “Focus on me.” Plopping down on the end of the couch, she broadcast her anger by aggressively flipping through a bridal magazine. “That’s rich coming from you right now.” Tracy had never been much for mincing words. Why start now?