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“Beginnings”

GINA WILKINS

is a bestselling and award-winning author who has written more than fifty books for Harlequin and Silhouette Books. She credits her successful career in romance to her long, happy marriage and her three “extraordinary” children.

A lifelong resident of central Arkansas, Ms. Wilkins sold her first book to Harlequin in 1987 and has been writing full-time since. She has appeared on the Waldenbooks, B. Dalton and USA Today bestseller lists. She is a three-time recipient of the Maggie Award for Excellence, sponsored by Georgia Romance Writers, and has won several awards from the reviewers of Romantic Times Magazine.

Contents

Chapter One (#u4da32286-0b45-5470-afc1-8a01e4969835)

Chapter Two (#u48dd6314-824c-5656-b2fc-87b92eb6380a)

Chapter Three (#u4c42d854-62a4-56c6-af10-67f63255a5ab)

Chapter Four (#u61bf9e1e-e3c5-5607-a67c-729fd8faae43)

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)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One

“And so, by using PCR and RFLP DNA methodology, the probability of paternity can be established to greater than 99.9 percent. It’s virtually fail proof.”

Realizing that Lydia McKinley had paused expectantly after an almost fifteen-minute mini lecture, Scott Pearson nodded somberly, hoping he looked as if he’d been paying close attention to her words. “Fascinating.”

She set her coffee cup on the restaurant table and wrinkled her nose, her pretty oval face softening with the expression. “I gave you too much information, didn’t I? I’m afraid I have a tendency to answer simple questions in far greater detail than necessary. My sister claims to be afraid to even ask passing questions about my work.”

Scott shook his head. “Actually, I’ve found your discussions of DNA testing both valuable and very interesting. You have a real knack for making a complex subject relatively easy to understand. I bet you’re popular with your students.”

“Not all of them. There are those who consider me a real terror.”

“Probably the ones who want a passing grade for very little effort.”

She laughed softly. “Exactly. How did you ever guess?”

He lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. “You don’t strike me as the type to let anyone slide by without demonstrating knowledge of the material.”

“‘Hardnose McKinley.’” She sighed in rueful resignation. “I’ve heard it muttered in the hallways, along with a few variations.”

“I doubt you let a few whiners bother you that much. You probably concentrate more on the students who really want to learn.”

Her rare, full smile brightened her dark blue eyes and reminded Scott that Professor Lydia McKinley was as attractive as she was brilliant—a fact he’d noticed with increasing regularity during the ten months or so he’d known her. They’d met in the parking lot of the apartment complex in which they were neighbors. Lydia had spilled a box of student essays, and Scott had helped her gather them before a threatening rainstorm could ruin them. Upon learning that Lydia was a microbiologist who taught university classes that included discussions of forensic DNA, Scott, an ambitious young attorney in a prestigious Dallas law firm, had asked if she would answer some of his questions about DNA. She had graciously agreed.

Since that meeting, they had gotten together three or four times for impromptu DNA lessons whenever Scott called her with questions. He always insisted on treating her to dinner during their talks since she refused any other form of compensation for her time and expertise. Their relationship was friendly, comfortable and rather impersonal. Their conversations tended to be more scientific than social. The few times Scott had wandered into personal territory, Lydia had quickly guided him back to business.

Usually quite confident around women, Scott sometimes found himself feeling a bit awkward with Lydia. Having spent a lot of time with competent, intelligent women, he wasn’t intimidated by her exactly, but he sometimes found himself wondering what she was thinking. She was very good at hiding her feelings behind a pleasantly serene expression.

He really knew very little about her, he mused, studying her across the table as a server set their desserts in front of them. He’d always considered himself pretty good at drawing people out, but Lydia was a definite challenge. He liked her, but he simply didn’t know what made her tick. Yet.

She picked up her dessert fork and glanced at him, catching his eye. “Is something wrong, Scott? You’ve been a bit distracted this evening.”

Smiling apologetically, Scott shook his head. “Sorry. I’m afraid it’s been a long day. You mentioned that you have a sister?”

“Yes. Larissa.”

“Is she older or younger than you?”

“Two years older.” Lydia wrinkled her nose again in a manner that Scott found appealing. “And she never lets me forget it. She’s been bossing me around all my life.”

He grinned. “Then you should be able to understand why a half-hour telephone conversation with my sister was all I needed to top off an already stressful day. She’s decided my life needs changing and she’s the only one qualified to arrange it.”

“Oh, that does sound familiar,” Lydia agreed with a soft groan. “Larissa’s gotten so pushy lately that I’ve been ducking her calls—which I hate doing because I’m really extremely fond of her.”

“Same here. I’m crazy about Heather, but she’s fully earned her nickname of Heather the Hun.”

Lydia laughed softly at the nickname. “How much older is she?”

“Four minutes,” Scott answered glumly.

Her eyebrows rose. “Twins?”

He nodded.

“Interesting. I wouldn’t have thought a twin would consider herself an older sibling, even with a four-minute birth advantage.”

“‘Advantage’ is the right word. Although with Heather’s personality, it probably wouldn’t have mattered if I’d been the firstborn. She’d still want to tell me what to do.”

Lydia swallowed a bite of cheesecake and reached for her coffee cup. “Somehow I don’t see you as the type to let your sister give you orders.”