Holly Jacobs - Unexpected Gifts

“I have a long weekend for the holiday,” Zac said.

“I’ve got to check in at the market tomorrow morning, but the rest of the day is mine. What if I come pick you up and take you to lunch?”

“Zac, you must have better things to do,” Eli insisted.

“You say that every time I ask to spend time with you. Since my sister is convinced we can talk without actually speaking, just like my parents can, want to guess what I’m saying without saying?”

Eli tried to look serious, but all she could do was laugh. That seemed to be a common theme with Zac. They talked, they enjoyed each other’s company and they both laughed a lot.

“Okay, tomorrow for lunch.” She opened the car door.

Before she got out, Zac leaned over and kissed her cheek. It was light, platonic even, and yet she felt a bit breathless in a way that had nothing to do with the blast of cold air that flooded the car.

“Uh, well, thanks for a lovely day, Zac. I’d really best get going.”

And in his eyes, without him saying a word, she could see that he knew his light kiss on the cheek had flustered her, and that he was pleased.

She brushed a fingertip over the spot.

What was she going to do about Zac Keller?

Dear Reader,

This year is Harlequin’s 60th Anniversary! Being part of the Harlequin family always was and is a dream of mine.

As my youngest child got older, I realized that one day soon she would go to school…and I’d need to go back to work. The question was, what did I want to do? This very quiet little whisper niggled around the edges of my mind…I’d like to write. And so I started writing. And submitting. And being rejected. In January of 2000 I was ready to admit defeat. I told my husband it was time to go look for a job. He told me no. We were fine financially and he was positive I’d sell to Harlequin Books. I just had to keep trying, and he was willing to do whatever it took to help. (Is it any wonder I write romance, with him as an example of what a hero should be?)

Two months later a woman called and introduced herself as Kathryn Lye…and bought my first Harlequin book, I Waxed My Legs for This? Three months after that, Allison Lyons from Silhouette Romance bought Do You Hear What I Hear? Nine years later this book, my twenty-eighth romance for Harlequin, is hitting the shelves and I’m struck by the fact that I am living my dream. That’s such a rare and wonderful thing.

So many dreams don’t live up to their hype, but my dream of working with Harlequin Books has been so much more than I ever imagined it could be. I’ve encountered the most amazing people, traveled all over the country and met so many truly lovely readers and other writers. I am so lucky.

So happy anniversary, Harlequin! May your stories of love keep touching the hearts of readers for years and years to come!

Holly Jacobs

In 2000, Holly Jacobs sold her first book to Harlequin Enterprises. She’s since sold more than twenty-five novels to the publisher. Her romances have won numerous awards and made the Waldenbooks bestseller list. In 2005, Holly won a prestigious Career Achievement Award from Romantic Times BOOKreviews. In her nonwriting life Holly is married to a police captain, and together they have four children. Visit Holly at www.HollyJacobs.com, or you can snail-mail her at P.O. Box 11102, Erie, PA 16514–1102.

For all the amazing teachers who work in the

Erie School District’s Teen Parenting Program,

especially Jeanne Bender, Mary Fuhrmann,

Connie Sementilli and Bonnie Sobeck. Thanks

for letting me be a part of the amazing work

you do. You have touched so many students’

lives, and the ripple effects from your work

will be felt for years to come.

And for Sharon Lorei, who was an

“Eli Cartwright” sort of teacher in my life.

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

EPILOGUE

“There’s no way to cheat nature.”

—Pregnancy, Childbirth and Parenting for Teens, by Mary Jeanne Lorei

ARIEL MAYORS KNEW that, until recently, she’d been teacher’s pet. A favorite. The student who could do no wrong.

She’d cultivated that status with the same care that a gardener used looking after prized orchids. By the time Ariel had reached her senior year of high school she’d practically perfected the art of perfect. She was always the first one to raise her hand, the first one to volunteer and almost always the best student in class.

Popularity was a game that she didn’t just play with the teachers, she played it with fellow students as well.

To garner the girls’ admiration she made sure she never poached boyfriends, that she always offered a shoulder in any cry-worthy moment and that she was never without an extra Tampax in her purse for those time-of-the-month emergencies.

She’d discovered the basic truth that once you’d borrowed a tampon from someone, it was hard to hate them.

Ariel was a cheerleader, which provided her a readymade social group, and also meant she was one of the girls all the boys wanted to date. She knew this part of her popularity didn’t stem from any planning of hers. Biology had blessed her with blond hair and a long, lithe body. But she’d worked at the rest—worked on knowing what clothes to wear, how to apply makeup flawlessly. She worked at knowing when to laugh, when to draw closer, when to pull back.

Well, she thought, she’d known when to pull back until that one night in Charlie Markowski’s Lumina van.

She stood in front of Ms. Cartwright’s desk. Her teacher wasn’t beautiful, but there was something appealing about her averageness. Brown shoulder-length hair, blue eyes. A little shorter than Ariel’s five feet, six inches. Ms. Cartwright was the kind of person who was so normal-looking she could easily get lost in a crowd in a way Ariel never could. That was, until she smiled. Then Ms. Cartwright was beautiful. Ariel wasn’t sure how that worked, she just knew it did. She wanted to be like Ms. Cartwright someday. Calm, collected—a woman in charge of her own destiny. Someone who got more beautiful when they smiled.

Only Ms. Cartwright wasn’t smiling today.

“Ariel,” Ms. Cartwright said, disappointment right there in that one word and echoing so fiercely in her favorite teacher’s expression.

Ariel had disappointed so many people in the last few weeks. She’d worked so hard to please this one woman, and now, she’d disappointed her, too.

“Ariel, Mrs. Brown came to see me. She says she found this in your book.” Ms. Cartwright slid the small piece of paper across the desk. “Is this crib note yours?”

“Yes,” Ariel whispered.

“Pardon?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have an explanation?”

“I worked at the restaurant last night and planned on studying during my break but Dale, the dork manager at Barney’s, wouldn’t give me one. We had a bus come in and…” She simply shrugged. What more was there to say? She’d done it—she’d cheated. She could add that to her growing list of descriptions.

Cheerleader.

Student council rep.

Straight A student.

Pregnant teen.