Theyll do anything for the babys sake! Only from New York Times bestselling author Barbara Dunlop!
He came to the United States to find his adversary, not fall for a tempting stranger. Yet millionaire Brody Calder can tell Kate Dunhern needs his help. Shes desperate to know her orphaned niece is in a loving home. But baby Annabelle is actually in the hands of Brodys enemy.
Though their motives are different, their goal is the same: take down the babys nefarious father and get Annabelle safely into Kates arms. It means playing a risky gameone where pretend passions could reveal real feelings both unexpected...and dangerous.
How does lying look?
What was the matter with her? She sounded like a fool, and she didnt seem to be able to stop it. I mean to you. How can you tell?
Lack of eye contact. He moved closer. A tense, closed expression, halting speech, hesitation.
He certainly didnt look tense. He looked powerful, in control and way too sexy.
Take now, he said, leaning ever so slightly forward. Your expression is open. Youre not nervous. Its like youre inviting me in. Like you want me to see your innermost thoughts, he continued.
She definitely didnt want that.
Like youre thinking of physical contact... He brushed her fingers, gently holding the tips of hers with the tips of his. He drew in a deep breath. Wouldnt be a bad thing.
She felt a warmth rise over her wrist, up the inside of her arm and through to her chest. She didnt want him to let go.
* * *
One Baby, Two Secrets is part of Mills & Boon Desires #1 bestselling series, Billionaires and Babies: Powerful men...wrapped around their babies little fingers.
One Baby, Two Secrets
Barbara Dunlop
www.millsandboon.co.uk
New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author BARBARA DUNLOP has written more than forty novels for Mills & Boon, including the acclaimed Chicago Sons series for Mills & Boon. Her sexy, lighthearted stories regularly hit bestseller lists. Barbara is a three-time finalist for the Romance Writers of Americas RITA® award.
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To my husband.
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
Introduction
Title Page
About the Author
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Epilogue
Extract
Copyright
One
Stale cigarette smoke warred with sharp memories as Kate Dunhern stood in the doorway of her mothers tattered third-floor walk-up in south central Los Angeles.
Darling, her mother Chloe cried, pulling her into a bony embrace.
Chloes hair was cut spiky short, her tank top crisp with colored sequins, and the scent of Vendi Dark Mist wafted in an invisible cloud around her. The floor seemed to shift momentarily, and Kate was transported back to her childhood.
I didnt think youd come, Chloe singsonged, rocking Kate back and forth in her arms.
Of course I came, Kate said, firming her stance and waiting for the embrace to end.
Its been terrible on us all, Chloe said with a sniff, finally pulling back and giving Kate space to breathe.
I cant believe shes gone. An image of her sister, Francie, formed in Kates mind.
She saw Francie as a teenager, grinning as they dug into a bowl of ice cream with colored sprinkles. The memory was good. But it was followed swiftly by the memory of Francie shouting that she hated Chloe before storming out of the apartment and slamming the door.
Not that Kate blamed Francie for bailing. Chloe had never been a candidate for mother of the year.
She had loved her daughters when the mood struck her and ignored them when it didnt. Shed criticized them when she was in a bad mood, which was most of the time. She claimed they had cramped her style, ruined her figure and kept her home with their snotty-nosed whining when shed rather be out with an eligible man. In Chloes mind, the only thing between her and happily ever after with some handsome, wealthy Prince Charming had been the anchor of Kate and Francie.
Kate had followed Francies lead, leaving for Seattle with her best friend, Nadia Ivanova, as soon as theyd graduated high school. She and Nadia had supported each other through teachers college, and shed never looked back, at least not until now. Not until Francie had been killed in a car accident.
She was drinking, you know, Chloe said, closing the apartment door and crossing the worn braided rug on high heels.
I read the news article. Kate was the last person to defend Francies actions, but she bristled at the critical tone in her mothers voice.
Chloe lifted a glass of orange juice from the small, chipped dining table. She should have known better.
Even if ice cubes hadnt clinked against the glass as she drank, Kate would have guessed the juice was laced with vodka.
Because of the great example you set for us? The sarcastic question rang silent in Kates mind.
When is her service? she asked instead.
Chloe waved a dismissive hand. She didnt want a service.
It doesnt have to be big or fancy, Kate said.
They were anything but a close-knit family, but they were Francies only family. They needed to say goodbye.
The body was already cremated.
What? When? Kates knees went unexpectedly weak, the finality of her sisters death suddenly hitting home.
She was never going to see Francie again. Visions of her sister bloomed in earnest now, at eight years old, reading The Jolly Green Frog to Kate on their shared mattress in the back bedroom, the time shed tried to bake peanut butter cookies and nearly lit the kitchen on fire, the two of them on the floor in front of the television, watching a thoroughly inappropriate late-night crime drama with Chloe passed out on the sofa.
Kate moved now to touch that sofa, that same old burgundy brocade sofa. She lowered herself to the saggy cushion.
Why would you do that? she asked her mother, her throat tight.
It wasnt me, Chloe said.
The hospital decided to cremate her?
Had Chloe pleaded poverty? Was cremation the default decision for patients who died without the means to pay for a funeral? Chloe should have come to Kate. Kate didnt have a lot of money, but she could have buried her own sister.
Quentin decided to cremate her. He said it was what she wanted. He can afford anything he wants without blinking an eye, so I expect he was telling the truth. Chloe took a large swallow of the orange juice drink.
Quentin? Kate prompted.
Francies boyfriend, Annabelles father.
Who is Annabelle?
Chloe blinked at Kate for a moment. Francies baby.
Kate was glad to be sitting down. Francie... Her voice failed her before she could finish the sentence. She cleared her throat and tried again. Francie has a baby?
You didnt know?
How would I know? Kate hadnt spoken to either her mother or her sister in nearly seven years. Is the baby all right? Where is she? Kate found herself glancing around the apartment, wondering if her niece might be sleeping in the bedroom.
Chloe obviously guessed the direction of Kates thoughts and drew back in what looked like alarm. Shes not here. Shes where she belongs, with her father, Quentin Roo.
* * *
As he had for nearly a month now, Brody Calder pretended to be amused by Quentin Roos crude, misogynistic remarks. The mans current target was swimsuit model Vera Redmond, who was clad in a clingy black sheath of a minidress, sipping a crimson martini across the crowded pool deck of Quentins Hollywood Hills mansion.
Could bounce a quarter off it, Quentin stated with a low, meaningful chuckle.
I have, said Rex Markel, causing Quentin to laugh harder.
Brody smiled at the joke, wishing he was someplace else, quite frankly anywhere else on this Saturday night. But his family had put their faith in him, and that faith had put their fortune at risk. Brody had made a bad calculation, and now it was up to him to set things right.
He was standing, while Quentin and Rex lounged in padded rattan chairs on the second level of the multitiered pool deck. Light spilled from the great room, its sliding glass walls wide open in the still August night as guests moved inside and out. Quentin liked to party, and the massive profits from his gaming company, Beast Blue Designs, ensured he had the means.
Did you catch her baby owl tattoo? Brody asked Rex, putting on the cocky confidence of the rock concert promoter he was pretending to be.
Rex looked surprised, causing Brody to suspect he hadnt bounced a quarter off or anywhere near the former Miss Ventura Countys rear end.
Brody had caught a glimpse of the tattoo last Wednesday morning. It seemed Vera liked string bikinis and sunrise swims, while Brody had been the only punctual arrival at breakfast that day. It was all quite innocent, but he wasnt about to mess with his street cred by explaining the circumstance.
Quentin raised his highball in a toast. Rock on, Brody.
I do my best, Brody drawled.
Take a seat, Quentin invited.
While Rex frowned at him, Brody eased onto another of the rattan chairs. Music from the extensive sound system throbbed around them. A few guests splashed in the pool, while others clustered around the bar and the dessert buffet.
Well, hello there, gorgeous, Rex drawled, sitting up straight, prompting Brody to follow the direction of his gaze.
A new woman had appeared on the pool deck, leggy and tanned in sparkly four-inch heels. Her dress was a skintight wrap of hot, shimmering pink. Her short blond hair flowed sleekly around her face, purple highlights framing her thick-lashed, wide blue eyes. She wore sparkling earrings and chunky bangles. And when her bright red lips curved into a sultry smile, Brody felt the impact right down to his bones.
Who is she? he asked, before remembering to play it cool.
Kate Dunhern, Quentin answered.
Francies sister? Rex asked with clear surprise.
It seems thats the little sister, said Quentin, a thoughtful thread running through his tone as he perused the woman with obvious curiosity.
Whos Francie? Brody asked, cataloging the women hed met since striking up his acquaintance with Quentin. He didnt recall anyone named Francie.
My baby-mama, said Quentin.
The revelation surprised Brody. You have a child?
Annabelle.
Quentin had a daughter. Brody couldnt imagine how his research had overlooked that fact.
How old is she? he asked, looking to fill in the blanks while trying to imagine Quentin as a father.
Quentin glanced to Rex, as if he didnt know his own daughters age.
Around six months, Rex answered.
I had no idea, Brody said.
Why would you? Rex asked, his smirk of superiority clearly intended to remind Brody he was a newcomer to this social circle, while Rex had known Quentin since junior high.
She died last week, Quentin said in a matter-of-fact tone.
A sick feeling invaded Brodys stomach. Your baby died?
Francie died, said Rex.
Brody was relieved, but then he was immediately sorry for Francie, and he was appalled by Quentins apparently callous attitude toward the mother of his child. Not that he should have been surprised. Aside from the extravagant spending, what he knew so far was that Quentin Roo was cold, calculating and self-centered in just about every aspect of his life.