Muriel Jensen - His Baby

Cordie had a horrible feeling that she understood what Killian meant, but she had to be sure. “You said you didn’t want to reconcile.”

“That’s right,” he told her.

She folded her arms so he wouldn’t see her hands tremble. “You’ll keep me until the birth, then take the baby away from me?”

“We’ll work out a deal.”

Without thinking twice, she struck him hard on the shoulder. “You don’t deal over a baby.” To herself she added, This isn’t part of the plan. You’re supposed to invite me back into your life! “I’m not giving up my claim to the baby,” Killian said unequivocally.

“It’s mine!”

“It’s ours. And trying to pretend I don’t figure in his life isn’t going to work.”

She was suddenly aware that her plot had a serious pitfall. Killian was going to fight her for the baby. And he had an army of lawyers. “You’re hateful,” she said in a heartfelt whisper.

He gave her a brief nod, as though it was of no consequence. “I gathered you felt that way when you slept with Brian.”

Dear Reader,

The Hamptons on Long Island, New York, have always held a fascination for me. My only experience with the area is what I’ve seen at the movies or in decorating magazines. I love the notion of a sprawling, beachy house decorated in shabby chic and fronted by lawn and sea grass that meanders to the ocean. I can visualize Japanese lanterns, smell clam boils and barbecues, and hear music and laughter.

Of course, my writer’s mind has to populate this place. I decided upon three brothers who’ve inherited the family wealth and business, but still bear guilt over a little sister who went missing twenty-five years earlier.

In my imagination, this sunny upscale place became Losthampton, and I created Killian, Sawyer and Campbell Abbott to live there with various members of their household and staff. Over the course of this series they will attract three strong, wise women who help them heal, and make their lives more interesting—and surprising—along the way.

Thank you for wanting to know them.

Best wishes!

Muriel

P.O. Box 1168

Astoria, Oregon 97103

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

866—FATHER FOUND

882—DADDY TO BE DETERMINED

953—JACKPOT BABY *

965—THAT SUMMER IN MAINE

His Baby

Muriel Jensen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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THOMAS and ABIGAIL ABBOTT (arrived on the Mayflower; raised sheep outside of Plymouth)

WILLIAM and DEBORAH ABBOTT (built a woolenmill in the early nineteenth century)

JACOB and BEATRICE ABBOTT (ran the mill and fell behind the competition when they failed to modernize)

JAMES and ELIZA ABBOTT (Jacob’s eldest son and grandfather of Killian, Sawyer and Campbell; married a cotton heiress from Virginia)

NATHAN and SUSANNAH STEWART ABBOTT (parents of Killian and Sawyer; Nathan diversified to boost the business and married Susannah, the daughter of a Texas oilman who owned Bluebonnet Knoll)

NATHAN ABBOTT and CHLOE MARCEAU (parents of Campbell and Abigail; renamed Bluebonnet Knoll and made it Shepherd’s Knoll)

KILLIAN ABBOTT is married to CORDELIA MAGNOLIA HYATT

His brothers are SAWYER and CAMPBELL

His sister, ABIGAIL, is still missing

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

Epilogue

Killian Abbott strode to the small bar behind his desk while Jack Eagan went on with his report. Jack was new, but proving to be the most competent human resources director Abbott Mills, Inc., had ever employed, so Killian listened with only one ear while he poured coffee and wondered what to do about the small chain of Florida clothing stores—Florida Shops—his stepmother wanted him to buy.

The investment wasn’t a big one, just a couple of million dollars, but the acquisition would make Chloe happy because the owner was a friend of hers. Still, the purchase was a distraction he’d prefer not to deal with right now with a divorce in the works and the November Corporation always looking for a break in the wall to attempt a takeover of Abbott Mills.

“Productivity is up eleven percent in the mills, and sales are up more than twenty percent in the stores. We think the new gyms are responsible for some of that. Morale’s up, injuries and accidents are down, and—” Jack, who’d stood when Killian had, stopped talking as Killian handed him a mug of coffee. “Mr. Abbott,” he said with an air of distress. He was older and conscientious and had come to Abbott Mills with a long history of managing household staffs in England. “I wish you wouldn’t wait on me, sir. It makes me nervous.”

Killian pointed him back into his chair and sat on the edge of his desk with his own cup. “It makes me nervous when you stand every time I do. I’m not titled gentry, Jack, just your employer. And you don’t have to call me ‘sir.”’

“Yes, sir.” At Killian’s frown, Jack closed his eyes and groaned. “Even after two years at Southern Massachusetts University, studying business and psychology, I’m having trouble getting the drift of American ways.”

“Just relax.”

“Yes, sir.”

Letting that issue drop for now, Killian indicated the file from which Jack read. “Go on. Productivity and morale are up. Good.” Adding an exercise room to every Abbott Mills store and all other factories the corporation owned had been a good idea. “Injuries and absenteeism are down. I like that.”

Jack held his cup uncomfortably and searched for his place in his notes with his index finger. “Mrs. Hamilton reports that the new cleaning firm we hired for the Dartmouth store is working out very well, as is the new buyer for women’s wear, who came on board last month.”

“All good news,” Killian observed with a smile. “There now, that wasn’t so bad.”

Jack smiled with relief. Killian liked reports given in person rather than dry written reports read at board meetings, and this was Jack’s first. Tall and thickly built, the man had the posture of a marine at fifty-six. When Killian had interviewed him, wanting the right man for the job, he’d asked him why he’d left England after almost a lifetime.

Jack had replied that he’d been widowed, and his only son had died in his teens in a riding accident. “I felt old and aimless,” he’d admitted candidly, “and thought I needed new surroundings.

“I’m here to stay,” he’d said. “You’ll notice on my references that I was with the duke of Burrage for twelve years, until he lost the house to taxes. Then I spent twenty-two years in the service of Lord Dunnsford. I like to put down roots.”

Killian had hired him. He, too, favored roots.

That had been almost three months ago, and he now considered it the smartest move he’d ever made as CEO of Abbott Mills.