Rebecca Winters: The Baby Dilemma

“We do! I do!”

“I never intended there to be a ‘for worse’ in our marriage.” His voice grated. “This afternoon I had a visitor. It was a woman I rescued from an avalanche, months before I met you.”

Kellie didn’t need to hear another word to feel as if she’d been dropped from a high building.

“She must have had a good reason to visit a married man at the end of his workday.” Kellie couldn’t keep the tremor out of her voice.

“All I know is, she’s eight months pregnant and claims it’s my child.”

Rebecca Winters, an American writer and mother of four, was excited about the new millennium because it meant another new beginning. Having said goodbye to the classroom where she taught French and Spanish, she is now free to spend more time with her family, to travel and to write the Harlequin Romance ®novels she loves so dearly.

Readers are invited to visit Rebecca’s Web site at www.rebeccawinters-author.com

Look out for The Tycoon’s Proposition

by Rebecca Winters

on-sale December (#3729)

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To Jo—someone who believed in my writing, cheered me on, let me explore to my heart’s content and guided me to greater heights. I will always be grateful.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

September 29

To My Darling Philippe—

In honor of that unforgettable moment in the meadow below Mount Rainier when you proposed to me.

These gold cuff links contain the tiniest petals of the wildflowers you gathered for me. They’re very precious because they represent your love. No woman ever felt more loved by her husband than I do. Happy one month anniversary, sweetheart.

Kellie

Putting her pen aside, Kellie Madsen Didier slid the card inside the envelope and taped it to the present she’d wrapped in black with red, green and gold foil ribbon. It had required painstaking work to arrange the petals in a design which would fit beneath the oval glass overlays trimmed in gold. But the result had pleased her.

Philippe would be walking through the door of their elegant Neuchâtel penthouse apartment any second. The windows gave out on a magnificent view of Lake Neuchâtel, one of Switzerland’s most beautiful scenic sights. Truly he’d brought her home to paradise.

She hurried out of the bedroom to the living room where she’d wheeled in the tea cart for a special dinner.

It was set with their best lace cloth, china, crystal and silver. In the cut crystal vase she’d placed a bouquet of fall flowers backed by an ornate candelabra. She put his gift next to his goblet, then rushed to the kitchen to finish up last minute preparations.

As soon as he’d left for the office that morning, she’d laid her French studies aside to work on a fabulous gourmet meal. After cooking and cleaning most of the day, she’d stopped long enough to shower and wash her hair.

Now that it was dry, it fell over one shoulder, partially hiding the capped sleeve of her new figure-hugging black crepe dress. Philippe had often remarked that with her green eyes and long caramel hair streaked by natural blond highlights, she looked stunning in black.

Wearing dainty black high heels to add a few inches to her five-foot-six frame, she hoped to dazzle him all over again tonight.

She glanced at her watch. Seven-thirty. He was almost a half hour later than he said he’d be when he’d called her that afternoon. It wasn’t like him not to phone again if he’d been detained by a client.

Earlier in the week he’d told her the ambassador from La Côte D’Ivoire had been in to order a fleet of limousines. Maybe there’d been a glitch during shipment from the Didier luxury automanufacturing plant in Paris.

Philippe could still be in the process of ironing out any number of problems. He was meticulous about his work. However until she heard his key in the lock, she didn’t want to light the candles.

Kellie went back to the kitchen to check on everything. Ten minutes slipped by, then another ten. Starting to get worried, she rang him on his cell phone, but she reached his voice mail asking the caller to leave a message.

Growing more anxious she phoned his personal secretary, Marcel, at home. The other man told her he’d last seen Philippe at his desk talking long distance to New York when they’d waved good-night to each other.

Marcel suggested her husband might be discussing something with the night security guard or the custodial staff before he left the showroom office. He urged her not to become alarmed. There could be a dozen reasons why he was late. Perhaps he was entertaining a businessman.

She thanked Marcel and hung up, but she was not reassured. Philippe would have asked her to join him if he’d planned to take a buyer out to dinner.

One of his good friends and climbing buddies, Roger, had dropped by night before last. Was it possible he hadn’t gone back to Zermatt and was still in Neuchâtel? When they got talking about their favorite subject, they forgot anyone else was in the room.

She ran to the study to look up Roger’s number. Before she could find it on the card Philippe kept at the side of his desk, the phone rang.

Pouncing on the receiver, she put it to her ear. “Hello?”

“Madame Didier?” came a serious sounding voice.

A sense of foreboding set her on the verge of panic. Her mouth went dry. “Yes? This is she.”

“I’m calling from the emergency room at Vaudois Hospital. Your husband is going to be fine, but he was in an automobile accident and is asking for you.”

Oh Dear God.

“I’ll be right there!” she cried.

After hanging up, she rang for a taxi.

Kellie could have taken the new little sports car Philippe had bought her for a wedding present. It was sitting in the apartment garage. But she didn’t know the location of the hospital, and didn’t want to worry about finding a place to park. In truth, she was shaking so hard she didn’t know if she’d be able to drive.

Another dash through the rooms to get her purse and turn off the oven, then she left the apartment on a run. Too impatient to wait for the lift, she hurried down the four flights of stairs to the main floor in her high heels and rushed outside, oblivious to the nip in the air.

When she saw a taxi turn the corner, she ran out to the street and waved him down. After climbing in she said, “The Vaudois Hospital, please, monsieur.”

“Oui, madame.”

She hugged her arms to her waist anxiously. If he’d sustained serious injuries, the person on the phone wouldn’t have said Philippe was all right. Still, she wouldn’t be able to breathe normally again until she could hold him and see him with her own eyes.