Paula Detmer Riggs - Daddy By Choice

Madelyn thought, thinking back to when she first met Luke. One look and she’d wanted him to be the first to make love to her. Now, watching him sleep, a shimmer of female appreciation still ran through her.

She wasn’t sure about anything when it came to Luke. She just knew he was important to her—and not just as her doctor.

His lashes fluttered as he opened his eyes, and he frowned.

“Maddy?” His voice was rusty and threaded with disbelief.

“Go to sleep, Luke,” she soothed.

“Baby?” he muttered.

“He’s fine.”

His mouth moved. “Sorry he’s not mine.”

“So am I,” she said on a suddenly shaky breath.

He smiled then. “Keep you safe, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Even from me.”

It was at that moment that she realized she still loved him.

Dear Reader,

This is a very special month here at Intimate Moments. We’re celebrating the publication of our 1000th novel, and what a book it is! Angel Meets the Badman is the latest from award-winning and bestselling Maggie Shayne, and it’s part of her ongoing miniseries, THE TEXAS BRAND. It’s a page-turner par excellence, so take it home, sit back and prepare to be enthralled.

Ruth Langan’s back, and Intimate Moments has got her. This month this historical romance star continues to win contemporary readers’ hearts with The Wildes of Wyoming—Hazard, the latest in her wonderful contemporary miniseries about the three Wilde brothers. Paula Detmer Riggs returns to MATERNITY ROW, the site of so many births—and so many happy endings—with Daddy by Choice. And look for the connected MATERNITY ROW short story, “Family by Fate,” in our new Mother’s Day collection, A Bouquet of Babies. Merline Lovelace brings readers another of the MEN OF THE BAR H in The Harder They Fall—and you’re definitely going to fall for hero Evan Henderson. Cinderella and the Spy is the latest from Sally Tyler Hayes, an author with a real knack for mixing romance and suspense in just the right proportions. And finally, there’s Safe in His Arms, a wonderful amnesia story from Christine Scott.

Enjoy them all, and we’ll see you again next month, when you can once again find some of the best and most exciting romance reading around, right here in Silhouette Intimate Moments.

Yours,

Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Senior Editor

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Annette Broadrick

A great Texas lady and a treasured friend.

discovers material for her writing in her varied life experiences. During her first five years of marriage to a naval officer, she lived in nineteen different locations on the West Coast, gaining familiarity with places as diverse as San Diego and Seattle. While working at an historical site in San Diego she wrote, directed and narrated fashion shows and became fascinated with the early history of California.

She writes romances because “I think we all need an escape from the high-tech pressures that face us every day, and I believe in happy endings. Isn’t that why we keep trying, in spite of all the roadblocks and disappointments along the way?”

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

It was hotter than hell the day Luke Jarrod returned to West Texas. Overhead the merciless sun beat down on the cab of his truck, while inside the air conditioner blasted ice from the vents.

Slouched behind the wheel, his eyes gritty from too little sleep and his shoulders stiff from too many hours driving without a break, Luke was sweating like a bridegroom with a .12-gauge shotgun at his backbone. Which was real appropriate, considerin’ he was about to become a daddy at eighteen.

It scared him some to think of his Maddy girl having a baby, her being so tiny and all. And only seventeen. Too damn young to know better, so he should have.

It had been opening day of the Whiskey Bend Stampede at the county fairgrounds when he’d first laid eyes on her. A bunch of ROTC kids from Whiskey Bend High School had been bringing in the flag, just like every other rodeo in every other town he’d seen that season. Strung tight and desperate for prize money to keep himself in tacos and his cutting horse, Cochise, in oats, he’d been standing with the more seasoned competitors in the dusty ring with his hand over his heart, watching the chicks twirling batons when his buddy Buck Mehan had dug an elbow into his ribs.

“Son,” he said, “were I ten years younger I’d be all over that little yeller-haired darlin’ in the third row, the one swishing all that glorious hair like there was no tomorrow. Man could die happy did he belong to her.”

Luke had never wanted to belong to anyone. Belonging meant obligations and responsibilities, two things he’d avoided for as long as he could remember. But one look at those slinky tanned legs and tight little butt sashaying past him, her itty-bitty skirt swishing this way and that, and he’d fallen about as hard as a man can fall without cracking wide open.

Her name was Madelyn Sue Smith, and she’d been flat-out adorable, her crazy little cat’s face lit with excitement and her eyes full of spirit. It had been high noon, and the sun had coated her honey-colored hair with shimmering gold. He’d never seen hair like hers, bunches of tousled curls all the way to her shoulders. It had been prettier than a palomino’s coat, which was just about the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. When they’d been together, he’d spent hours running his hands through all that glorious stuff.

Lord help him, he hadn’t intended to let things get out of hand. But she’d been so sweet, and her smile had taken the edge off the sadness that had plagued him from the moment his mother had abandoned him when he was only nine, taking the baby sister he adored and leaving him to cope with his father’s bitter rages.

His body stirred at the memory of the stolen hours they’d spent together in a cheap motel room near the fairgrounds. That last night he’d bought her flowers—white carnations with petals almost as silky as her skin—and made sure the sheets had been clean. She’d been a virgin, and he’d tried to be gentle.

A thousand times he’d played back that scene, the teasing flick of her tongue against his, the purr of need in her throat. The adoration and trust in her eyes when she’d told him she loved him. A thousand times these past eight months he’d taken out that memory, hoarding each flash of those river green eyes, each dimpled smile, the soft little huff of wonder when she’d explored his body for the first time. When she’d finally worked up the courage to touch him, he’d damn near come right up off the bed.

For the first time since quittin’ school at sixteen to join the junior circuit, he’d been reluctant to move on. Especially when she’d cried and clung to him like there was no tomorrow.

I’ll write every day, she’d promised between frantic kisses. And she had at first, four letters for every one of his, telling him over and over how much she missed him—and how she couldn’t wait for him to come back when the season was over with the engagement ring he’d promised.