Julianna Morris - Daddy Woke Up Married

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Carol Duncan, for all your support and advice.

To Micki and Peg, for your words of encouragement when

I really needed them. And a special thanks to Cathleen,

for your enthusiasm and help as an editor.

has an offbeat sense of humor, which frequently gets her into trouble. She is often accused of being curious about everything…her interests ranging from oceanography and photography to traveling, antiquing, walking on the beach and reading science fiction. Choosing a college major was extremely difficult, but after many changes she earned a bachelor’s degree in environmental science.

Julianna’s writing is supervised by a cat named Gandalf, who sits on the computer monitor and criticizes each keystroke. Ultimately, she would like a home overlooking the ocean, where she can write to her heart’s content—and Gandalf’s malcontent. She’d like to share that home with her own romantic hero, someone with a warm, sexy smile, lots of patience and an offbeat sense of humor to match her own. Oh, yes…and he has to like cats.

Dear Reader,

A recent acquaintance of mine freezes when babies are mentioned. He literally seems paralyzed by the thought of an unpredictable little human who can scream and make a dirty diaper at the same time. Poor guy, he doesn’t know what he’s missing.

These unpredictable little humans are precious gifts. Each one is different, and unique, and a miracle in his or her own right. They will walk into the future with the lessons of life and love imparted by parents, teachers, friends and even strangers. They are frightening and wonderful.

And babies are fun! They laugh and play with their toes. They fingerpaint with strained peas and carrots. Each day they grow a little more, expanding their world, and getting into mischief. I remember countless times my nephews and nieces did something “naughty,” and I’d be laughing so hard, I couldn’t scold them.

Someday when I hold my own bundle of joy, I know I’ll be overwhelmed, terrified and deliriously happy. They are a huge responsibility, and a remarkable privilege— truly creations of the heart. As for the dirty diapers? They’re a small price to pay.

Best wishes…

“Is it safe up there?”

“Define safe. ”

Emily put her hands on her hips and glared at the man perched on her roof. He looked like an actor in a Coke commercial—faded jeans, no shirt, and sweat gleaming on his pectoral muscles. Not to mention brown hair, brown eyes and a smile that had cut swaths through feminine hearts from Seattle to Singapore. If she hadn’t grown up with Nick Carleton treating her like his baby sister, she might have thought he was sexy. Instead, she mostly thought he was aggravating.

“That isn’t funny. You know exactly what I mean.”

Nick grinned to himself. He could always count on Emily to get huffy when he teased her. She was a nice kid, though she drove him crazy half the time—it only seemed fair to do the same to her. “Guilty conscience? As I recall, you ordered me to fix your leaky roof. And me on vacation, no less.”

“Would you prefer me to fix it myself?” she asked sweetly. She shooed her cat, GeeZee, away from the ladder and put her foot on the bottom rung. “I’ll come up now.”

Damn. He scowled into her mischievous blue eyes. “You get on that ladder and I’ll paddle your bottom.”

“I’m so-o-o scared.”

“Brat,” Nick muttered.

“I heard that.” Emily stepped back and grinned. Nick was a dear, even if he had the mentality of a Neanderthal. When he’d learned the details of her first marriage, he’d wanted to rip Kevin’s heart out and stuff it down his throat. Emily had been tempted to let him. The muscles in her jaw tightened for an instant as she thought about Kevin.

“Hey, kid. Something wrong?”

Emily relaxed at the gentle tone in Nick’s voice, then shook her head. Kevin wasn’t a part of her life anymore; she didn’t have to think about him. “I’m fine.”

“Sure? You aren’t…er…yourself right now.”

Her nose wrinkled. “You worry too much.” She patted her rounded stomach. She hadn’t begun wearing real maternity clothes around the house—relying on roomy summer knits—but her pregnancy was unquestionably showing. “I’m only going to have a baby.”

“I remember. Perfectly, ” Nick said distinctly.

She smothered a laugh at his red-faced expression. Nick’s reaction had been typically male when she’d confided her desire for a baby, and her decision to have one through the medical alternative to sex. He’d stomped out of the house with his sense of propriety offended. Several hours later he’d returned with an outrageous proposal… he’d donate the sperm, and in return would get to play a role in his child’s life. But he’d had one con dition—they had to get married, at least until after the baby arrived.

At first she’d thought it was a ridiculous idea. But after a lengthy argument, it began to make sense. Nick was a perennial bachelor, with a job that took him out of the country on a regular basis. He’d probably never get married and have children. This way he could be a father without having to face any of those things, which as a man, he was naturally averse to…commitment and dirty diapers.

A platonic marriage—with separate residences—fit Nick’s overly protective attitude toward her and seemed perfect for them both.

Even so, Emily knew he’d found his participation in the artificial insemination procedure terribly embarrassing, and she was grateful she’d succeeded in getting pregnant on their first trip to the doctor’s office.

“Don’t think about it,” she advised him. “Besides, you were the one who insisted on being the father.”

“That’s not the point. Say, did you know that if you lean way over like this, you can see the harbor from here?”

Emily rolled her eyes at the blatant change of subject. “I can see Crockett Harbor from the front, why do I care about the back?” She added in a muttered undertone, “Chicken.”

“I heard that.”

“Fine. If the feathers fit…?”

“You—”

Nick’s protest ended abruptly as his foot skidded against a loose piece of roofing material. Unbalanced by leaning “way over like this,” he tumbled over the edge.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The ladder tottered and crashed, a shower of shingles flew across the yard in a frenzied arc, and GeeZee gave out a screeching howl before flying under the hydrangea bush.

Emily didn’t scream…not quite. But she gasped and rushed to where Nick lay tangled with the ladder.

“Nick?”

Nothing, not even a groan. But the single drop of blood trickling down his forehead convinced her this wasn’t one of his usual gags.

“Lord,” she muttered and raced into the house. She grabbed the phone and dialed for emergency services. “Hello?” she said breathlessly into the receiver. “My…er…husband just fell off the roof.” It felt strange saying Nick was her husband, but much easier than going into a lengthy explanation—that they were only married on paper.