You're My Baby

You're My Baby
Laura Abbot

There's one test that a single woman doesn't want to come out positiveFor Pam Carver, trouble comes in the form of a home pregnancy kit. She wants her baby, but with the father completely out of the picture, she's all on her own. Then her friend and colleague Grant Gilbert makes her an incredible offer. Marriage for one year.Pam needs a father for her baby. Grant needs help with his estranged son. Marriage in name only is a good idea. But it isn't easy trying to fool your family and friends into thinking you're in love. It's even harder trying to convince your spouse that you're not in love–especially when you actually are.

Dear Reader,

I’m very excited about this book, which revisits Class Act’s Keystone School. When I finished Class Act (Harlequin Superromance #803) I hated to walk away and leave Pam Carver, the attractive head of the English department, without her own happily-ever-after romance.

Bless her heart, she’d been looking in all the wrong places. Sometimes, you know, love is right under our noses, and if we’re very, very lucky, we get to marry our best friends. So it is for Pam.

And so it was for me. Larry was my CPA, my fellow church member and my sounding board at a difficult time in my life. In short, he was my friend. I can pinpoint the exact moment in our relationship when I looked at him and something went “zap.” My “friend” had morphed into something more—much more. And nothing was ever the same. Only better!

Like Grant Gilbert, the hero of this story, Larry welcomed my family without reservations—including my three children. I don’t want to spoil the ending of the book for you, but Andy, Grant’s teenage son, has truths to tell about the meaning of family—truths Larry and I learned through living them.

With best wishes,

Laura Abbot

P.S. Readers’ comments are important to me. Write to me at P.O. Box 2105, Eureka Springs, AR 72632 or e-mail me at LauraAbbot@msn.com. And don’t forget to check out these Web sites: www.eHarlequin.com and www.superauthors.com.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A Kansas City native, Laura graduated from Kansas State University with a bachelor’s degree in English literature, later studying at the graduate level at the University of Central Oklahoma. She spent twenty-five years as a high school English teacher in Kansas and Oklahoma, finishing her career as the advanced placement senior English teacher and dean of Faculty at an independent college preparatory school in Oklahoma City. Along the way, she and husband Larry reared five children—her two daughters and one son, his daughter, and his orphaned nephew. In the mid-seventies, Larry and Laura discovered Beaver Lake in northwest Arkansas and began working on a plan to move there permanently. Their dream was realized in 1992 when Laura took early retirement and the couple built a home overlooking the lake near Eureka Springs, Arkansas. It was then that Laura began pursuing her own dream—nurtured since grade school—of writing fiction. She sold her first novel to Harlequin Superromance

in 1994 and has been happily writing for the line ever since. Between entertaining the couple’s children and thirteen grandchildren, curling up in the hammock with a good book, and spinning stories that always end happily, Laura says life doesn’t get any better.

You’re My Baby

Laura Abbot

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

With respect, affection and appreciation,

this book is dedicated to my editor, Laura Shin,

whose discerning eye, steady editorial hand

and understanding heart have challenged me to

reach beyond my self-imposed limitations.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

YOU THOUGHT you were so careful? So smart? That things like this only happen to other people?

Pam Carver slumped against the bathroom counter. With effort, she swallowed an onslaught of nausea, then studied the white-faced, big-eyed image staring back at her from the mirror. A stranger.

She could maybe have found comfort in the familiar reflection of a thirty-plus, rosy-skinned redhead, with hazel-green eyes and laugh lines. She knew that woman. Good old Ms. Carver, popular spinster English teacher. Spinster. She’d grown to hate the prudish, spitlike quality of the word. It sounded like a woman who didn’t want a man and had never known one. Certainly not in the Biblical sense.

A ragged snort escaped the stranger’s mouth. Pam leaned closer, mocking the shocked reflection in the glass. “Well, think again, sweetie. Condoms aren’t foolproof.” Her voice, unnaturally loud, reverberated off the ceramic-tile walls. “I wonder, is ‘pregnant spinster’ an oxymoron?”

A fat tear oozed out of the left eye of the figure in the mirror. Pam swiveled, grabbing the cardboard remnants of the EPT kit, and in slow motion sank onto the plush bath mat.

A baby. Oh, God, a baby. Just when she’d about given up hope of ever being a mother. This was not at all the way it was supposed to happen. She was supposed to be married to a man who adored her, who wanted children as much as she did, who would cherish this new life growing within her.

But that could never be. Not with Steven. Nor, in fairness, could she blame him. From the beginning, he’d been totally honest with her, and they’d both agreed there could be no follow-up to their summer together. She had accepted her responsibility in the matter, just as he had. He was a fine man. He would’ve been a fine father. A happily-ever-after love. In another time. Another place.

Yet every nerve in her body urged her to pick up the phone. To tell him. But that was not an option. All he had ever asked of her was that she respect his situation.

No, she couldn’t betray his trust. His right to know about her pregnancy was far outweighed by the devastation the truth would cause.

Even if it meant her child would be fatherless.

Even if that reality left her heart in tatters.

Fumbling in the pocket of her robe, she located a crumpled tissue, wiped her nose, sniffled a few times, then shakily got to her feet.

Now the woman in the mirror cradled her abdomen, the regret and fear in her face turning to resolve. Child support wasn’t the issue. She was capable of taking care of the baby, and she would. “I didn’t mean for it to be this way, my sweet little one. I’m all you’ve got. And that’ll have to do. Somehow.”