Muriel Jensen - His Wife

Sophie expelled a little sigh that seemed to be one of relief. “So you’re not finding it hard to be around me?” she asked.

Sawyer had to repeat that to himself. “Hard?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “If I were any other woman, you could kiss me now and not worry about whether I’d scream or tremble or push you away.”

Her candor made him grin. “Actually, I get a lot of that anyway.”

She elbowed him in the arm. He loved the way she did that. “You do not. I hear that women love you. So do children.”

He pushed at the car door, thinking he couldn’t take too much more of this. She was studying him with a sweet look that was still mildly wary, for all her speculation on how she’d react if he kissed her.

“I have to go,” he said quickly. He got out of her car and walked around to his, only to find her standing in front of his door.

Her mind was replaying bright images of Sawyer holding her in the office, memories of how it felt when a man’s muscles were used to comfort rather than hurt.

“Sophie…” he warned.

Dear Reader,

When I began this book I thought I didn’t understand daredevils, but I created one in Sawyer Abbott anyway because I know readers love them. Life is such a gift that it seems criminal to me to risk it for anything less than saving another life.

And then it occurred to me that’s what we do when we love each other. We save each other. Love is the biggest risk a man or woman can take, and there’s no fire suit, no safety net, no 911 responder to protect you from disaster. Love is an openhearted, pull-out-all-the-stops gamble that whatever draws you to someone will grow into the stuff that lasts a lifetime.

As all writers do, I shape a character and send him or her in a certain direction, but what he or she decides to do is really up to that character. When Sawyer decided to love Sophie despite a dark secret, and to love her three creative children, I realized I knew him pretty well. And I fell in love with him myself. I hope you will, too.

Sincerely,

Muriel Jensen

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

1020—HIS BABY**

His Wife

Muriel Jensen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Thomas and Abigail Abbott: arrived on the Mayflower; raised sheep outside Plymouth

William and Deborah Abbott: built a woolen mill 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 Abbott; married a cotton heiress from Virginia

Nathan Abbott 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: now the CEO of Abbott Mills; married to Cordelia Magnolia Hyatt

Sawyer Abbott: Killian’s brother by blood; a daredevil

Campbell Abbott: half brother to Killian and Sawyer; brother to Abigail; manages the Abbott estate on Long Island

China Grant: thinks she might be the missing Abigail

Sophie Foster: mother of Gracie, Eddie and Emma Foster; the woman with whom Sawyer Abbott falls in love

Brian Girard: half brother to Killian and Sawyer

Prologue

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

Sawyer Abbott stared into the eyes of the beautiful young woman he’d found peering in the French doors to the library of his home, as he struggled to process what she’d just told him. “I think…” she’d said, “I mean…I believe I could be…your sister, Abigail.”

Sister. For so long the word had signified grief and regret and terrible guilt. But connecting any of those to this vibrant young woman with long dark hair and lively dark eyes was difficult. Although those physical characteristics would qualify her.

“I wasn’t snooping, I swear,” she went on hastily. “I was just hoping for a glimpse of one of you, some sign of a friendly face so that this wouldn’t be so…scary.”

He wanted to reply, but shock held back the words.

“I’m…China Grant, by the way. I mean…that’s been my name. But…maybe not who I really am.”

She shifted her weight and smiled a little nervously, pointing to a square box on the ground. It was the utilitarian kind, intended to hold office documents or personal papers for storage. “I, ah…there are some things in my box,” she said rapidly, “that make me think it could be me. I was adopted as a toddler and I always knew that, but I was told I came to my family through my mother’s doctor. They adopted my sister the same way. When our father died just a month ago, we were cleaning out the house and found these boxes with our names on them, and the things that must have belonged to us when we moved in. I know that probably sounds suspicious…”

She kept talking, and he finally raised a hand to stop her. She sighed, as though grateful. “Sorry,” she went on. “There’s just so much to say.”

His brain a muddle of confusion, his emotions taking him places he wasn’t sure he had the courage to explore, he nodded in agreement. If she was Abby, there was twenty-five years’ worth of things to say.

He pushed the French doors open. “Let’s go inside. Our company’s yearly staff meeting is under way here right now, but this room’s pretty quiet.”

She walked in, holding on to her box, and stopped in the middle of the room. “My goodness,” she whispered. He was used to the room, but the dark wood and leather and floor-to-ceiling shelves of books did have an awesome elegance.

He pointed her to the leather sofa and noticed a mild tremor in his hand. That tremor was beginning to take over his body.

“Wait right here,” he said. “I’ll get my brothers.”

She put the box down on the coffee table and asked hopefully, “Is my mother at home?” Then she added with a little apologetic inclination of her head, “I mean, if she is my mother.”

Her mother. That possibility was mind-bending after all these years. Chloe would be beside herself with shock and excitement. It was probably a good thing she wasn’t here until they could conclude whether or not this woman was Abby.

“She’s in Paris at the moment,” Sawyer replied. “Her aunt is very ill and she’s caring for her.”

“I see.” Clearly disappointed, she sat.

“Can I get you something?” he asked, touched by her quiet grace. “Coffee? Soft drink?”