Just A Little Bit Pregnant

Just A Little Bit Pregnant
Eileen Wilks

I'M WHAT?!The doctor had confirmed it - Jacy James was two months pregnant. Her torrid, twelve-hour affair with Tom Rasmussin had apparently left her more than just satisfied. Trouble was, the father-to-be had run off while the tousled sheets were still hot. Now Jacy had to tell him the news… .Detective Tom Rasmussin hadn't been able to get Jacy or that searing night of passion out of his mind. So when he learned he was going to be a daddy, well, marriage seemed the right thing to do. But the proud woman turned him down flat. And now this determined bachelor had to convince Jacy that one night of passion could mean a lifetime of happiness… .

“We Need To Talk,” Tom Rasmussin Said. (#u8cd83c44-65f9-583f-b12c-ed3e69c66e8c)Letter to Reader (#u21028e7a-236b-5f66-ba1f-80bf3ba14c28)Title Page (#u31733513-d0d5-582b-847f-89bf2f4d0c2d)About the Author (#uaa38eb86-b8fa-501d-b56a-cdb8233e4625)Dedication (#u482e6412-ac68-5c18-8efa-d87a3c0c3092)Chapter One (#u044f1ee1-6226-533d-9a07-95bda88f63c1)Chapter Two (#u4a1005d4-6db6-5e79-a7fc-64e835136cee)Chapter Three (#u8e7cb2cc-a76f-5cb9-b229-c8be6fb5fcf5)Chapter Four (#u4bd1c826-2298-5f5c-b72f-e2c4f1c1ff06)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)Teaser chapter (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

“We Need To Talk,” Tom Rasmussin Said.

Jacy James walked toward him. His gaze slid to her belly. It looked flat still. He had a sudden, visceral memory of her. Oh, yes, he did want her, wanted to touch her one more time, wanted the thrill and insanity of losing himself in her. He’d never experienced fire like hers before that night, their one night together.

She damned sure didn’t look like a mother-to-be. But she was carrying his baby.

He took a ragged breath, fighting back the welling emotion. “I want to do the right thing, Jacy.”

“Good. That’s good.” She even smiled.

“You want to also, don’t you?”

“Of course.” The smile tilted into a frown.

“All right, then, will you marry me?”

Dear Reader,

Where do you read Silhouette Desire? Sitting in your favorite chair? How about standing in line at the market or swinging in the sunporch hammock? Or do you hold out the entire day, waiting for all your distractions to dissolve around you, only to open a Desire novel once you’re in a relaxing bath or resting against your softest pillow...? Wherever you indulge in Silhouette Desire, we know you do so with anticipation, and that’s why we bring you the absolute best in romance fiction.

This month, look forward to talented Jennifer Greene’s

A Baby in His In-Box, where a sexy tutor gives March’s

MAN OF THE MONTH private lessons on sudden fatherhood. And in the second adorable tale of Elizabeth Bevarly’s BLAME IT ON BOB series, Beauty and the Brain, a lady discovers she’s still starry-eyed over her secret high school crush. Next, Susan Crosby takes readers on The Great Wife Search in Bride Candidate #9.

And don’t miss a single kiss delivered by these delectable men: a roguish rancher in Amy J. Fetzer’s The Unlikely Bodyguard; the strong, silent corporate hunk in the latest book in the RIGHT BRIDE, WRONG GROOM series, Switched at the Altar, by Metsy Hingle; and Eileen Wilks’s mouthwatering honorable Texas hero in Just a Little Bit Pregnant.

So, no matter where you read, I know what you’ll be reading—all six of March’s irresistible Silhouette Desire love stories!

Regards,

Melissa Senate

Senior Editor

Silhouette Desire

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.- 3010 Walden Ave., PO. Box 1325, Buffalo. NY 14269

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

Just a Little Bit Pregnant

Eileen Wilks

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

EILEEN WILKS

is a fifth-generation Texan. Her great-great-grandmother came to Texas in a covered wagon shortly after the end of the Civil War—excuse us; the War Between the States. But she’s not a full-blooded Texan. Right after another war, her Texan father fell for a Yankee woman. This obviously mismatched pair proceeded to travel to nine cities in three countries in the first twenty years of their marriage, raising two kids and innumerable dogs and cats along the way. For the next twenty years they stayed put, back home in Texas again—and still together.

Eileen figures her professional career matches her nomadic upbringing, since she tried everything from drafting to a brief stint as a ranch hand—raising two children and any number of cats and dogs along the way. Not until she started writing did she “stay put,” because that’s when she knew she’d come home. Readers can write to Eileen at P.O. Box 4612, Midland, TX 79704-4612.

This book is for my friend Gayle,

whose support has meant so much to me.

It’s also for the people of Houston,

a wonderful, sprawling megalopolis of a city

as vital as it is varied.

I hope they will overlook the small liberties

I’ve taken with my fictional version of their city.

One

The woman sitting across from Dr. Nordstrom didn’t fit in his pleasant pastel office.

He’d redecorated after buying the practice last winter. Studies had shown that patients found white cold and clinical, so the decorator had used pale peach for the walls, with muted blues and greens for the carpet and accents—colors intended to soothe anxious patients.

Dr. Nordstrom doubted that Jacinta Caitlin James’s presence had ever soothed anyone. Particularly anyone male.

She was too vivid, for one thing, in her crimson top and her gauzy skirt splashed with tropical flowers. She was too exotic, with her Gypsy’s hair, her tip-tilted eyes and full breasts.

She was also suddenly too pale. Much too pale.

“Ms. James?” he said. “Ms. James, are you all right?”

Jacy’s name echoed hollowly in her ears, as if the doctor were calling her from the other end of a long tunnel. “I’m fine,” she said automatically. In defiance of the darkness lapping at the edges of her vision, she pushed to her feet.

“Please sit down, put your head between—”

“I’m fine,” she repeated as she waited for the dizziness to pass.

Over the years Jacy had been called a lot of things, from persistent to pigheaded. Any number of cops, crooks and politicians had referred to her as “that damned reporter,” but even her detractors agreed she was as compulsively truthful in print as she was passionate about lost causes and underdogs. Her co-workers at the Houston Sentinel had nicknamed her “Outlaw” in honor of her comfortable relationship with chaos, and her boss had once, in a fit of good humor, been heard to call her the best investigative journalist in the state.