Anybody's Dad

Anybody's Dad
Amy J. Fetzer

CONGRATULATIONS, YOU'RE A… FATHER?!Tessa Lightfoot refused to share her long-awaited child with a total stranger, much less marry the man! True, Chase Madison had gotten her pregnant - courtesy of his unwitting sperm-bank deposit. And his tender touch did stir Tessa's blossoming body. But medical technology and a marriage license weren't enough to create a real family.Nothing was going to come between Chase and fatherhood - not even stubborn Tessa! Tessa carried his baby in her belly. And while he regretted that he hadn't put it there the old-fashioned way, he planned to change that the next time around!

“What Were You Going To Tell My Son When He Asked About His Father?” (#u56222af6-f007-5f1b-ab58-71994c8341e8)Letter to Reader (#u0e3a543e-7e98-53bb-ac52-b08cffcb7f86)Title Page (#u6d562528-8ace-5d1c-ace6-dd9911b1d51d)About the Author (#uf48aff72-290b-56f9-bd78-f7baee257e2c)Dedication (#u3e2042fd-281e-5bf9-9ffd-d60b7d09d215)Chapter One (#u6acc39ec-0867-569b-90d7-3f9bacf8a9a5)Chapter Two (#u8673262c-6152-5b68-9379-7d784b40ccd3)Chapter Three (#uce952d26-4fa9-562b-8aee-9aca137061ee)Chapter Four (#ufe280958-97b8-52d0-9cb5-82b2d983e603)Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

“What Were You Going To Tell My Son When He Asked About His Father?”

Tessa moved her shoulders restlessly as she poked at her food. “I’d decide when it was appropriate. And if she was old enough to understand, I’d tell the truth.”

Chase leaned close, hemming in the air, the moment. The man was so close Tessa could see the black flecks in his eyes.

“The truth? That he was made in a doctor’s office and not a bedroom? That his father was some man he’ll never know?”

His tone was intimate, husky and Tessa swallowed nervously. “That can’t be helped.”

“Yes, it can.”

“How—?” Her eyes widened instantly at the look of intent on his face. “Oh, no!” She shook her head, looking scared. “Don’t—” she wiped her lips “—don’t say it!”

“Many me....”

Dear Reader,

This month we have some special treats in store for you, beginning with Nobody’s Princess, another terrific MAN OF THE MONTH from award-winning writer Jennifer Greene. Our heroine believes she’s just another run-of-the-mill kind of gal...but naturally our hero knows better. And he sets out to prove to her that he is her handsome prince...and she is his princess!

Joan Elliott Pickart’s irresistible Bishop brothers are back in Texas Glory, the next installment of her FAMILY MEN series. And Amy Fetzer brings us her first contemporary romance, a romantic romp concerning parenthood—with a twist—in Anybody’s Dad. Peggy Moreland’s heroes are always something special, as you’ll see in A Little Texas Two-Step, the latest in her TROUBLE IN TEXAS series.

And if you’re looking for fun and frolic—and a high dose of sensuality—don’t miss Patty Salier’s latest, The Honeymoon House. If emotional and dramatic is more your cup of tea, then you’ll love Kelly Jamison’s Unexpected Father.

As always, there is something for everyone here at Silhouette Desire, where you’ll find the very best contemporary romance.

Enjoy!

Senior Editor

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

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Canadian: P.O. Box 609. Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

Amy Fetzer

Anybody’s Dad

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

AMY FETZER was born in New England and raised all over the world. She uses her experiences, along with bits and pieces of the diverse people she’s met, in creating the characters and settings for her novels. “Nobody’s safe,” she says. “There are heroes and heroines right in front of us, if we just take the time to look.” Married nineteen years to a U.S. Marine and the mother of two sons, Amy covets the moments when she can curl up with a cup of cappuccino and a good book. Published previously in historical and time-travel novels and novellas, she happily steps into contemporary category romance with her first Desire for Silhouette Books, Anybody’s Dad.

For my agent,

Irene Goodman

Thanks for tearing off my blinders and

seeing this one coming before I did.

One

“It’s too late, Chase.”

“What do you mean?” he said into the phone, an edge to his voice. Lawyers had an annoying habit of dragging out the details, especially for their friends.

“The procedure took. Six months ago.”

“What! You mean there’s a woman walking around with my baby inside her and I’ve never laid eyes on her?”

“That about sums it up.”

Chase Madison shielded his eyes from the sun blasting through his office window and rubbed his temples. Janis had done this. He just knew it. “God, if Janis wasn’t already dead, I’d kill her.”

“Oh, it gets better.”

Chase closed his eyes, tamping down his temper. “Let’s have it.”

“She believes you’re nothing but a sperm donor.” Something nasty twisted inside Chase just then. “And she isn’t going to let you near this child, nor give you the time of day.”

“We’ll just see about that.”

Chase hung up the phone and sank into the nearest chair, cradling his aching head in his hands. A sperm donor. Wonderful. If his marriage alone wasn’t the grand joke of the century, now he felt as if Janis were taking digs from the grave. Chase wasn’t mourning her. He’d done that briefly months ago, after the accident, with whatever little feeling he had left for her. Now he felt only anger and resentment. She’d used her job at the fertility clinic to get back at him. She’d had access, and God knows she’d had motivation. But this, he thought, was beyond even her. This was vicious.

It always came back to kids. He wanted them. She couldn’t have any. It hadn’t mattered to him at the time. He just wanted to be a father. Anybody’s father. He wanted to feel the sweet energy kids gave, their fascination for discovery, wanted to love them and feel loved. With secret dreams of his own son, he’d convinced Janis to go the adoption route—a seven-year wait for a newborn. But it was Janis, as administrator for the clinic, who’d introduced the possibility of a surrogate mother.

Chase hadn’t liked the idea of a strange woman having his child by artificial insemination. Even the sound of it was clinically impersonal. And he couldn’t imagine a woman going through pregnancy and childbirth only to relinquish her rights to her baby. But Janis had convinced him it was reasonable. Persuaded him with the fact that the child would at least have Chase’s blood in his veins.

You let her convince you, his conscience niggled. He’d wanted a child that badly, yet still he’d dragged his heels. He remembered the humiliation of entering a little sterilized room, staring at the specimen cup in his hand, the leather office couch, the stack of video tapes on the TV/VCR. Then he’d dragged Janis in with him. She was very accommodating about assisting him, as he recalled.

Two weeks later his world fell apart. Or at least what he thought was his marriage. Hell. It had been over before that, he knew. Just as he knew having children was the wrong reason to hold a marriage together. Yet he’d felt cheated out of something precious and wonderful when he’d found the birth control pills tucked in the glove box of her car when he’d taken it to the shop. Janis wasn’t infertile. She’d just never wanted children. Never wanted her career or her figure or her life interrupted. Let the baby machines do it, she’d said, unaware that he’d heard her bitter comments until he stepped around the edge of her office door. Oh, she’d stumbled through an explanation, but in that moment, he’d seen her for what she truly was. Selfish, heartless, a lousy example of impending motherhood. He’d told her to dump their files, their marriage and his donation.

Obviously she hadn’t. He’d known she was bitter, but this? Manipulating files and specimens? Why?

For a baby.

His baby.

An incredible warmth crept into his chest, seeping out to his limbs. Chase sagged back into the leather chair and savored the feeling, knowing it wouldn’t last, wouldn’t stay. Had she intentionally allowed the surrogate-intended sperm to go to a woman who thought she was selecting only genes and chromosomes from a bank? Was she bitter enough to see the child he longed for created, only to keep the baby from his grasp? He hated to think anyone was that horrible.