Anne Haven - Because Of The Baby

She’d never heard her friend’s voice sound so husky before, not even when he was sick with the flu. It was sexy husky, we-just-made-love-all-night-long husky. It made her shiver.

He pulled on her arm, urging her down. His hand encircling her wrist felt warm. “Stay. Stay here, Mel. Come back.”

“I…” She didn’t want to get into this now. She didn’t want a scene. She’d wanted to disappear quietly.

“Stay,” he repeated.

He pulled harder. She went. It happened so smoothly, so seamlessly. He turned her onto her side, facing outward, and curled his big, warm body around hers, spoon style. He clamped an arm around her waist. He buried his face in the back of her neck, nuzzling her there, kissing her nape.

“Your hair…” Kyle inhaled deeply. “Smells like gardenia. Mmm. Melissa. I just want to hold you,” he said drowsily.

The words undid her. Without her conscious volition, her eyelids fluttered shut. And then contentment seeped through her limbs.

She couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to. It felt too good.

But even as she let herself drift back to sleep, part of her knew this was wrong. Terribly.

Kyle. Oh, Kyle. What have we done?

Dear Reader,

Kyle and Melissa, the hero and heroine of this book, have known each other several years when their relationship changes suddenly and irrevocably. I’ve always had a soft spot for stories like theirs, stories about close friends who fall in love—with a little help from external circumstances.

Maybe the two people have been in love all along but for various reasons haven’t been able to admit it. Or maybe an unexpected situation forces them to see each other in a new light. Regardless, the developing romance between longtime friends can be particularly complex.

True, “love at first sight” is very powerful. But there’s also something powerful about really knowing the other person before you fall in love—knowing his or her strengths and weaknesses and having more access to the inner layers of his or her personality. Within that context, a couple’s interactions take on new—and sometimes richer—meanings.

In Melissa and Kyle’s story I’ve tried to capture some of that emotional depth. This book is very different in tone from anything else I’ve written (including my new Harlequin American Romance novel). I hope you enjoy my efforts!

Anne Haven

Because of the Baby

Anne Haven

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Ruth—with boundless gratitude for your

hard work and support

PROLOGUE

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

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

Midsummer

MELISSA LOPEZ AWOKE in the unfamiliar bed with the unfamiliar weight of an arm slung over her rib cage. Long white muslin curtains billowed in from an open window nearby. Bright morning sunshine poured into the room, making her squint. She gazed straight above her, blinking as her eyes adjusted.

High ceiling with exposed ductwork and a bumpy, texturized white finish that looked like cottage cheese.

Not her ceiling.

Oh, God. Oh, good God Almighty. Kyle’s ceiling. Kyle’s bed. Kyle’s big, tanned, muscular arm draped over her naked torso.

A crisp white sheet covered them. Melissa felt the warmth from his body all along her right side. His bent knee rested against her leg, the curling hairs tickling her skin. She sensed his head on the pillow beside her, heard the even cadence of his breath and became aware of its caress against her ear and neck.

Slowly she turned her head. Kyle Davenport lay asleep on his side, facing her. His long, dark lashes rested peacefully against his cheeks.

His lips were full and slightly darker than usual and a day’s beard growth shadowed his jaw. He had short hair, a faintly crooked nose, high cheekbones and a strong, attractive chin. He looked like himself—though she wasn’t used to this vantage point.

She swallowed. The vantage point of lying next to him. In bed.

Again she thought, Oh, God.

Images flashed in her mind. His apartment at night. The whisper of clothing as it slid off their skin. Warm, wet, breathless kisses. Hands exploring. His and hers.

She’d never touched him before. Never like last night. She’d only looked—looked and tried not to see his masculine beauty. Tried not to want.

I don’t believe what we did.

She’d needed him last night. After what had happened in the E.R. she’d been desperate. A small child and his mother had come in, fresh from a car accident. The boy had looked so much like Melissa’s brother. Same age. Similar injuries. And this boy had died, too. Melissa hadn’t been able to save him. Informing his mother—

Usually she was able to maintain a doctor’s professional distance. Last night she hadn’t.

So, when her shift at the E.R. had ended, she’d turned to Kyle. She’d needed the solace he could give her and she hadn’t cared about anything else.

But they should not have become lovers. She and Kyle couldn’t be romantically involved. They had a very good, very comfortable friendship—and this was a sure way to mess it up. She valued their relationship too much to let it degenerate into another of Kyle’s light, temporary affairs.

Panic shot through her.

She had to get away.

Her pulse hammering, Melissa raised a hand to his arm. He didn’t stir as she painstakingly eased his arm off her torso and inched away from him, pausing once when the mattress creaked. She lowered a leg over the side of the bed.

Kyle caught her wrist as she started to rise. “Don’t go,” he murmured.

She’d never heard his voice so husky before, not even when he was sick with the flu. It was sexy husky, we-just-made-love-all-night-long husky. It made her shiver.

He pulled on her arm, urging her down. His hand, encircling her wrist, felt warm. “Stay. Stay here, Mel. Come back.”

“I…” She didn’t want to get into this now. She didn’t want a scene. She’d wanted to disappear quietly.

“Stay,” he repeated.

He pulled harder. She went. It happened so smoothly, so seamlessly. He turned her onto her side, facing outward, and curled his big, warm body around hers, spoon style. He clamped an arm around her waist. He buried his face in the back of her neck, nuzzling her there, kissing her nape.

“Your hair…” Kyle inhaled deeply. “Smells like gardenia. Mmm. Melissa. I just want to hold you,” he said drowsily.

The words undid her. Without her conscious volition, her eyelids fluttered shut. And then contentment seeped through her limbs.

She couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to. It felt too good.

But even as she let herself drift back to sleep, part of her knew this was wrong. Terribly.

Kyle. Oh, Kyle. What have we done?

October

KYLE DAVENPORT STARED at the pasty-faced, middle-aged man in front of him. They sat in the makeshift conference corner of his office, on a pair of scuffed metal folding chairs pulled up to a Formica-topped table salvaged from a diner. Boxes of medical supplies and free samples lined the shelves on the wall beside them.

Kyle clasped his hands on the tabletop. As the clinic’s director he usually spent more time on his administrative duties than he did interacting with patients, but he welcomed the chance to do so. Even when, like today, he had to play the heavy.