Delores Fossen - Covert Conception

Natalie carefully studied his reaction. It was too similar to what her own reaction had been when she’d learned about her test results. She’d expected…what? An explanation that would cause all of this to make sense? However, it was obvious that Rick didn’t have any answers.

“How did this happen?” he amended.

She’d already asked herself that. At least a dozen times. And she knew that Rick was not a part of this—he wasn’t the sort of man that required drugging or any coercion to get a woman into bed. She didn’t know how it happened and her only clue was that surveillance video.

“I don’t know what happened. I need answers and that’s why I am here—because I am pregnant with our child….”

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To Rickey. I can never thank you enough.

Imagine a family tree that includes Texas cowboys, Choctaw and Cherokee Indians, a Louisiana pirate and a Scottish rebel who battled side by side with William Wallace. With ancestors like that, it’s easy to understand why Texas author and former U.S. Air Force captain Delores Fossen feels as if she was genetically predisposed to writing romances. Along the way to fulfilling her DNA destiny, Delores married an air force top gun who just happens to be of Viking descent. With all those romantic bases covered, she doesn’t have to look too far for inspiration.

Natalie Sinclair—Someone drugged her and her nemesis, Rick Gravari, so they’d have sex. Now, pregnant with Rick’s child, someone wants them both dead and Rick is her only hope. Can they overcome a bitter past and work together to save their child?

Rick Gravari—He’s more comfortable building custom motorcycles than he is in Natalie’s high-society world. But he’ll do whatever it takes to keep Natalie and his baby safe…even if that means moving in with the very woman he’s sworn to resist.

Dr. Claude Benjamin—Creator of the Cyrene Project, a plan to produce genetically superior babies. Can the doctor have changed his mind about continuing his research, and does he now want to eliminate them all?

Dr. Isabella Henderson—She also worked on the Cyrene Project, but now vehemently objects to it.

Carlton Gravari—How far will Rick’s uncle go to put an end to the Cyrene Project?

Macy Sinclair—Is Natalie’s flamboyant mother covering for someone, or is she too the victim of the Cyrene Project?

Troy Jackson—A product of the Cyrene Project, he holds a grudge against Rick and Natalie.

Brandon Steven—He has answers that Rick and Natalie need, but he’s not willing to share.

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 Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

San Antonio, Texas

“You’re pregnant, Natalie.”

Natalie Sinclair blinked, stared at her sister, Kitt, and then waited because she was certain that Kitt was about to deliver the punch line of a silly joke.

But the punch line didn’t come.

Judging from Kitt’s expression, she was serious. However, Natalie was serious, too, and she knew for a fact there was no way she could be carrying a child.

“I haven’t had sex in over a year,” Natalie admitted. Though her sister no doubt already knew that. And it was the realization of the no doubt that caused any remaining amusement to vanish.

Pulling in her breath, Natalie set her teacup aside, the delicate bone china rattling against the saucer. Some of the Irish blend splashed onto a pair of entwined hand-painted yellow roses.

“Dr. Benjamin did the pregnancy test,” Kitt continued, her voice shaky and thin. “He called when you were in the meeting with the antique broker, and when I pressed him about what was wrong with you, he finally told me. You don’t have the flu, and you’re not anemic—”

“Stop right there. I can’t be pregnant.” Natalie waited for Kitt to agree to that, but her sister made no such acknowledgement. In fact, nothing about Kitt’s ultra-solemn expression changed. “But you think I am?”

Kitt nodded.

Okay. This obviously wasn’t some joke. Besides, Kitt wasn’t a joking kind of person. Still, there was no way this could be true.

No way.

Natalie shook her head. “The test is wrong.”

Kitt did some head-shaking of her own. “The doctor used your blood and urine samples to repeat it. Not once. But twice. And then he repeated it again at my request. All three times, the tests were positive. Based on the physical he gave you and those test results, Dr. Benjamin thinks you’re about four weeks pregnant.”

Forcing herself to remain calm and think this through, Natalie snapped her fingers in rapid succession. “I’ve heard about this sort of thing. They’re false-positive results. They have to be.”

Natalie was well aware that she sounded desperate.

And she was.

What was going on here?

Kitt didn’t respond to her false-positive theory. Instead, her sister turned the computer monitor around to face Natalie and typed in something on the keyboard. “You remember a couple of months ago I had surveillance cameras installed throughout the house?”

“Of course, I remember. Some items were missing, and we thought someone on the staff might be stealing from us. The surveillance tapes proved it.” And Natalie wasn’t pleased about this seemingly mundane topic when they had something not so mundane to clear up.

“I didn’t have the cameras removed after the problem was resolved,” Kitt continued. “I figured the extra security wouldn’t hurt.”

Impatient, Natalie huffed. “Is this leading somewhere, Kitt?”

“Unfortunately, yes. After I finished my conversation with Dr. Benjamin, I went back through the surveillance tapes for the past four weeks. I found something.”

Oh.

That nearly stopped Natalie’s heart.

“Explain something,” Natalie insisted.

Kitt typed in a code on the keyboard, and Natalie instantly recognized the video feed that appeared on the screen. Nearly a month earlier.

The night of her surprise twenty-ninth birthday party.

Though Natalie was familiar with the scene, it wasn’t an entirely pleasant memory. She’d arrived back in San Antonio from a week-long antique-buying trip in Ireland and had stopped by Dr. Benjamin’s office because she was sick. The diagnosis was an upper respiratory infection. The doctor had done some lab tests and given her prescription meds. By the time she made it home, she had been exhausted, ready to fall face-first into bed. Only instead of bed, she’d discovered that her mother had assembled three dozen or so of her close and not-so-close friends for a surprise birthday celebration.