Janice Maynard - His Heir, Her Secret
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“You’re carrying my baby. You will be my bride.”
For two glorious weeks, Cate Everett shared the bed of Brody Stewart, a man she’d just met and never expected to see again. Fast forward four months, and the seductive Scotsman is back in town...with the solution to Cate’s baby-to-be dilemma. But if she becomes Brody’s bride, will she be living a loveless sham? Or will he throw his heart into the bargain?
USA TODAY bestselling author JANICE MAYNARD loved books and writing even as a child. But it took multiple rejections before she sold her first manuscript. Since 2002, she has written over forty-five books and novellas. Janice lives in east Tennessee with her husband, Charles. They love hiking, traveling and spending time with family.
You can connect with Janice at
www.janicemaynard.com Twitter.com/janicemaynard Facebook.com/janicemaynardreaderpageand Instagram.com/janicemaynard.
Also by Janice Maynard
A Not-So-Innocent Seduction Baby for Keeps
Christmas in the Billionaire’s Bed
Twins on the Way
Second Chance with the Billionaire
How to Sleep with the Boss
For Baby’s Sake
His Heir, Her Secret
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk
His Heir, Her Secret
Janice Maynard
www.millsandboon.co.uk
ISBN: 978-1-474-07649-4
HIS HEIR, HER SECRET
© 2018 Janice Maynard
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk
Version: 2020-03-02
MILLS & BOON
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For all of my friends who have ever fantasized about owning a quaint bookstore in a charming small town...this one’s for you...
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
About the Author
Booklist
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Epilogue
Extract
About the Publisher
One
The Scotsman was back. Heart pounding, hands sweating, Cate Everett leaned over her old-fashioned, nicked-up porcelain sink and eased the curtain aside with one finger. From the vantage point of her upstairs apartment, she had a perfect view of the comings and goings across the street.
Brody Stewart. The man she hadn’t seen in four months and believed she would never see again. Brody Stewart. Six feet and more of broad shoulders, sinewy muscles and a rough-velvet brogue of a voice that could shuck the panties off a girl before she knew what was happening. The Scotsman was back.
She wasn’t ready. Dear Lord, she wasn’t ready.
Her freshly brewed cup of tea sat cooling on the table behind her. The late February day had been icy and drear, a perfect match for the mood that had plagued her since climbing out of bed at dawn. She’d thought the comforting drink would cheer her up.
Instead, a clatter of slamming doors and deep male voices had distracted her...driven her to the window. And now she knew. The Scotsman was back.
In all fairness, Cate had never seen disaster coming four months ago. When a man’s grandmother introduces you to her grandson, a woman usually thinks the guy can’t get his own dates.
Only in this case, it wasn’t true. Brody Stewart could have any woman he wanted with one twinkle of his long-lashed, indigo-blue eyes. She still remembered the tiny lines that crinkled at the corners of those gorgeous eyes when he smiled. Brody smiled a lot.
Oh, jeez . Her legs wobbled in sync with the drunken butterflies in her stomach. She needed to sit down. She needed to drink her tea. But she couldn’t tear herself away from the window.
On the street below, a tiny, gray-haired lady gave orders to two remarkably similar men. Brody was one. The other must be Duncan, his younger brother. Suitcases came out of the trunk of a rental car. Hugs were exchanged. Snowflakes danced on the breeze.
None of the three people she spied on seemed to notice the cold. Perhaps because they hailed from the Scottish Highlands...a place where winter winds scoured the moors, and bloodlines went as far back as the hearty stock of warring clans and beyond.
Cate wiped damp palms on her faded jeans. She needed to focus. Voyeurism and dithering weren’t going to accomplish a thing. Besides, she had a shop to run.
Forcing herself to step back and abandon her intense fascination with the tableau on the street, she cradled her teacup in two trembling hands, drank most of the cold liquid and set the delicate china aside before making her way downstairs. Lunch break, such as it was, was over.
For five years she had found solace and pride in her charmingly eccentric bookshop, Dog-Eared Pages. The little store with the uneven hardwood floors and the rows of antique bookshelves held a place of honor on the main street of Candlewick, North Carolina. From the spring solstice until almost Thanksgiving, tourists came and went, bringing dollars and life to the region.
Tucked away in the Blue Ridge Mountains an hour from Asheville, Candlewick hearkened back to a simpler time. Neighbors knew each other’s business, crime was rare and the quality of life made up for the lack of first-run movie theaters and big-name restaurants.
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