Christyne Butler - Having Adam's Baby

Words of praise for Mills & Boon ®from New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling authors

“When I started writing for Mills & Boon, I was delighted by the length of the books, which allowed the freedom to create, and develop more within each character and their romance. I have always been a fan of Mills & Boon! I hope to write for it for many years to come. Long live Mills & Boon!”

—Diana Palmer

“My career began in Mills & Boon. I remember my excitement when they were introduced, because the stories were so rich and different, and every month when the books came out I beat a path to the bookstore to get every one of them. Here’s to you, Mills & Boon; live long, and prosper!”

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“I owe a great deal to Mills & Boon for allowing me to grow as a writer. Mills & Boon did that, not only for me but for countless other authors. It continues to offer compelling stories, with heroes and heroines readers love—and authors they’ve come to trust.”

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“Mills & Boon books always touch my heart. They are wonderful stories with the perfect happy ending.”

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CHRISTYNE BUTLERfell in love with romance novels while serving in the United States Navy and started writing her own stories six years ago. She considers selling to Mills & Boon ®Cherish ™a dream come true and enjoys writing contemporary romances full of life, love, a hint of laughter and perhaps a dash of danger, too. And there has to be a happily-ever-after or she’s just not satisfied.

She lives with her family in central Massachusetts and loves to hear from her readers at chris@christynebutler.com. Or visit her website at www.christynebutler.com.

Having Adam’s Baby

Christyne Butler

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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“How could I not love a series devoted to my favorite

things—complex families and deep friendships? I’m

so proud to have been a part of this wonderful

tradition at Mills & Boon.”

—Sherryl Woods

Fay Coggen was sick and tired of being sick and tired.

Eating healthier would help. More tofu-laced salads, less Chinese takeout. Her thirty-five-year-old body would thank her later. The heavy lifting required at her florist shop toned her arms and shoulders, but her backside would be better served if she did more at night than read or work on crossword puzzles, two favorite pastimes that kept her butt planted firmly on the couch.

Getting a decent night’s sleep would probably work wonders, too. After eighteen months, she still wasn’t used to sleeping alone. Even though she’d been on her own for longer than that, in more ways than she could count.

Still, more rest would help her kick this nagging cold she’d had for the last two months. With the busy Fourth of July holiday and the one-year anniversary of Scott’s death just a few weeks away, she needed all the energy she could get.

All reasons why she was sitting in her doctor’s office on this sunny June afternoon.

As far as medical facilities went, this one was pretty nice. Pale-yellow-and-white gingham wallpaper covered three walls. The fourth boasted a large bay window that looked out onto a lush lawn, stately rows of green hedges and a wooden bench surrounded by a carpet of red and purple impatiens beneath a shady tree.

And despite the fact she and Liz were friends, Fay could honestly say she’d hated every moment she’d spent here.

“So sorry to have kept you waiting.” Liz’s lilting voice filled the air as she hustled into the room and closed the door behind her. “I wanted to double-check the test results myself.”

Her friend sat in the matching chair across from Fay, instead of taking her seat behind her desk. Fay smiled. “Over a simple case of the flu? Things must be pretty slow around here. So what are the doctor’s orders? Lots of rest and orange juice?”

Liz crossed one ankle over the other with a natural grace. “We haven’t had a chance to visit in a while. How are you feeling, Fay?”

“Other than wishing for a week where I could do nothing but sleep, I’m fine. Like I told your nurse, the dizziness comes and goes, and it’d be nice to eat something more substantial than soup and crackers. The news predicted a terrible flu season that would carry on into spring. They weren’t kidding.”

“I’m talking about how you’re doing emotionally.” The older woman glanced pointedly at Fay’s lap. “I notice you haven’t gone back to wearing your wedding rings.”

Fay clenched her battle-scarred florist hands, her thumb and forefinger automatically rubbing at the indentation on her left hand that was almost gone. “I told you that I decided to take them off back around Christmas.”

“Understandable. Scott had been gone for six months by then.”

Understandable after she’d discovered the lies and secrets her late husband had left in the wake of his death last summer. After fifteen years of marriage, she’d thought neither of them had the ability to surprise each other anymore.

She’d been wrong and trying to recover ever since.

“You said you were wearing them on a chain around your neck instead.” Liz’s gaze moved over the open collar of Fay’s blouse. “I see that’s gone now, too.”

Yes, the chain and her rings were buried in the bottom of her jewelry box, along with her husband’s dog tags.

Ever since that night two months ago.

Ever since Adam Murphy.

“Are you involved with anyone?” Liz asked.

“What?” Her friend’s question jolted Fay from her thoughts. “No, of course not. Just because I decided—That doesn’t mean I’m—” Fay realized she was babbling and paused, fought for a controlled breath and then continued. “Dating isn’t something I’m even thinking about.”

“I know things have been difficult, but it’s okay to move on. Next month will make it a year since Scott died. Finding someone new to spend time with, maybe even thinking about falling—”

“Liz, between trying to hold on to my business and sorting out the colossal mess Scott’s creative financing left me, my life’s been nothing but chaos for the last year. Believe me, I’m working hard at moving on.”

“I meant with a man.”

Fay let loose a bark of laughter that wasn’t close to being humorous. “I know what you meant, but no.”

“Sweetie, then this is going to be a shock.” Liz placed the folder she was holding in her lap and reached out, laying a comforting hand on her arm. “You don’t have the flu. You’re pregnant.”

Her friend’s words echoed in Fay’s ears, each time becoming more muted and garbled.

She hadn’t heard her friend correctly.

There was no way she’d heard correctly.

“You must be wrong.” Fay shook her head. “I only have one working ovary, remember? An ovary that works at a reduced capacity making it impossible for me to get preg—” She bit off the word, unable to say it aloud. “You said so yourself.”