Grace Green - The Baby Project

Jordan continued. “I want to be part of his life, and I want him to be a part of mine.”

“But you spend most of your time abroad!”

“No problem. I’d hire a nanny to care for him while I’m out of the country.”

“A nanny?” Mallory’s expression was outraged. “You’d leave Matthew with a stranger? No way! I’ll fight you in court if—”

“The other option,” Jordan interjected smoothly, “would be for the two of us to share custody….”

Grace Green grew up in Scotland but later immigrated to Canada with her husband and children. They settled in “Beautiful Super Natural B.C.” and Grace now lives in a house just minutes from ocean, beaches, mountains and rain forest. She makes no secret of her favorite occupation—her bumper sticker reads I’d Rather Be Writing Romance! Grace also enjoys walking the seawall, gardening, getting together with other authors…and watching her characters come to life, because she knows that once they do, they will take over and write her stories for her.

HARLEQUIN ROMANCE ®

3526—THE WEDDING PROMISE

3542—BRANNIGAN’S BABY

3586—NEW YEAR…NEW FAMILY

The Baby Project

Grace Green

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For John

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

“JORDAN CAINE is a cad!”

“Oh, he is, Angelina!” Outrage sparked in Monique’s faded blue eyes. “Leaving our dear sweet Mallory to cope on her own all these months without so much as a postcard.”

“Well, the man does appear to be an adventurer.” Eighty-year-old Emily looked anxiously at the other two over her half glasses. “But sisters, we’ve never even met Mr. Caine. Shouldn’t we give him the benefit of the doubt?”

Angelina sighed. “Emily, you can be very trying. Any man who has behaved as badly as he has doesn’t deserve—”

The front doorbell chimed, making them all start. They looked at each other meaningfully, and then with one accord set their bedtime mugs of hot milk on the coffee table.

“She’s here,” whispered Emily. “Let us have no more talk of Jordan Caine.”

All three cocked their heads and listened.

From their cosy nook in the sitting room, they heard brisk footsteps cross the hall. Then they heard the front door opening and Elsa, their landlady, say warmly, “Mallory, come away in. How was your trip? It’s almost midnight! I was beginning to worry about you.”

“I’m so sorry, Elsa. My last day of work, and so many loose ends to tidy…and then the staff surprised me with a Goodbye party and there was no way I could disappoint…”

The voices faded.

After several minutes, during which time the sisters sat tensely without talking, they heard steps approaching. Catching their breath, they turned towards the door and waited.

The door opened.

When Mallory appeared in the doorway, they sighed with pleasure at the sight of her. She looked lovely as always, in a short-skirted black suit, with an ivory shirt and stylish black pumps. Her face was pale and her features strained, but her genuine smile brought her dusky brown eyes to life.

“Hi, ladies,” she said. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

Not for the world would they have told her they had waited up to make sure she arrived safely.

“Just finishing our hot milk,” Angelina murmured.

“I’m going along to Number Five now.” Mallory raised both hands and shoved back her unruly auburn locks. “But I hope you’ll drop by and visit tomorrow.”

“Everything’s settled?” Monique asked.

“Everything’s settled.”

“So,” Emily’s tone was awed, “you’ve burned your boats.”

“Burned my boats and my bridges and everything else.” Mallory’s wry smile brought a dimple to her right cheek. “From now on, the only way to go is forward.”

“Good luck, dear,” they chorused.

“Thank you. I’m going to need it!”

With a little wave, she closed the door and walked back into the hallway.

Elsa was waiting for her, with the baby in her arms.

“He’s teething,” Elsa said as she carefully handed over the infant. “He was cranky earlier, but he’s settled now.”

Mallory felt her heart melt with love as she looked down at the sleeping child. Tenderly she ran a finger over his flushed cheeks. “Poor mite.”

“I was along at Number Five earlier and aired out all the bedding. Just pop him in his crib and with a bit of luck he’ll sleep through till morning.”

“I hope so.” Mallory stifled a huge yawn. “I’ll be out like a light myself as soon as my head hits the pillow.”

Jordan Caine slammed the door of his scarlet Lexus, slung his leather travel bag over his shoulder, and strode purposefully up the drive to Number Five Seaside Lane.

The rambling old house was beautifully silvered by moonlight, but he paid little attention to it or any of his other surroundings. This place didn’t interest him. If there was one thing he hated, it was small-town living. He planned to sleep in the house tonight; put it on the market tomorrow; and be on his way again by lunch-time…shaking the beach sand of this sea-salty little Washington resort from his size eleven boots before it had time to stick.

Sliding his key into the lock, he opened the front door and stepped inside. Moonlight streamed down through the skylight above the staircase, and in its bone-white wash, he saw that the roomy hallway was very sparsely furnished.

The only other time he’d been in this house it had been empty. As he’d discussed terms with the Seashore realtor, his voice had echoed back from the bare walls. Apart from a few sticks of furniture the house seemed just as empty now—

A creaking sound came from his left. He spun around as sharply as if it had been a gunshot.

Then frustrated by his hair-trigger reaction, he swore. He hadn’t realized his nerves were still so badly on edge….

The sound had come from the downstairs bedroom. He crossed the hall, turned the doorknob with a stealthy hand, and warily pushed the door inwards.

A low-wattage bedside lamp cast a pool of light over the empty bed, leaving most of the room in shadow—

His heart gave an erratic lurch when he saw that someone—a woman—was slumped in a rocking chair by the bed.

She was asleep; he could hear her regular breathing.

Her face was in shadow but he could see that she had a luxuriant tumble of long curly hair. She was wearing a light shirt with a dark suit; the jacket lay untidily open, the skirt had ridden halfway up her thighs. Her legs—long fantastic legs—were stretched out before her and a pair of high-heeled pumps lay askew on the carpet.

She shifted position and her head lolled sideways, towards the light, giving him a clear view of her face.