Susan Crosby - Bound By The Baby

Of meeting an attractive man at a casino: 1:1

Of having one impulsive night with said attractive man: 5:1

Of falling for your brand-new lover: 10:1

Of becoming pregnant from your one-night stand: 100:1

Of his tracking you down clear across the country: 10,000:1

Of his turning out to be a millionaire: 500,000:1

Of his offering to marry you: 1,000,000:1

Of his actually falling in love: ?????????:1

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For the Gilroy connection—

a great place to write a book. Thanks so much.

For Elizabeth Bevarly, Maureen Child,

Anna DePalo, Susan Mallery and Christie Ridgway—five talented and generous women.

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

Chapter Fourteen

Coming Next Month

January 2, Sterling Palace Hotel and Casino,

Atlantic City, New Jersey

Devlin Campbell had been taking up space at a blackjack table for two hours. By rights he should be down thousands of dollars, since his head wasn’t in the game but on a letter he’d jammed into his inside coat pocket that morning. It took a lot to shake Dev up, but the one-page document typed on a California law firm’s letterhead had shaken him to the core, the repercussions still resonating. It was impossible to forget the letter, so he’d settled instead on ignoring it as best he could.

He swigged his fourth Scotch and water, then glanced at the woman standing at his shoulder, observing him silently. Even before he’d gotten himself semidrunk, she’d been easy on the eyes. Her hair was long, light brown and shiny, her body curvy and tempting, but her smile didn’t reach her beautiful blue eyes. Oddly, her sadness drew him as much as the physical attraction. He didn’t know her name, only that she’d brought him luck since he’d first laid eyes on her more than an hour ago.

He’d been in the hole a few hundred dollars when he’d spotted her walking toward his table. He had gone on full alert, everything about her appealing to him, calling to him. She’d stopped to talk to a passing employee, who had pointed toward someplace in the distance. She’d glanced in that direction then straight at him and seemed to freeze in place. Her eyes widened. For long, increasingly fascinating seconds, neither looked away. The dealer drew him back into the game, and he won the hand.

When he looked toward her again, she was gone, only to pass by him at that very moment, within reach.

“Wait,” he said, his hand on her arm, the contact sizzling. “You’re my good luck charm.”

Amazingly, she waited. When she tried to walk away several times over the next hour, he implored her to stay, although more with his eyes than his words. He dubbed her Ms. Fortune, hoping to make her laugh, but the sadness in her eyes only deepened.

And yet she stayed, even as a small crowd gathered, curious, as his winning streak continued and his bets became more daring. A pit boss watched. Security people milled.

They scrutinized Dev’s every move, but he wasn’t cheating. Wasn’t counting cards, either, although he was proficient at it. He and numbers had a remarkable affinity. However, no one could count cards at the big casinos anymore, their systems too refined for cheaters to prosper. But this time he didn’t care whether he won or lost, didn’t have the mental wherewithal to do anything more than play the game.

Yet all he did was win.

Dev jiggled the ice cubes in his otherwise empty glass, then set it down as the next hand was dealt. He lifted the corners—a jack and a five—the kind of hand any sensible person would’ve stayed on, letting the dealer’s hand determine the outcome, but Dev took a hit. Odds were he would be dealt a face card, putting him well over twenty-one.

He drew a six. Twenty-one. It was that kind of night.

As conversation buzzed around him, Ms. Fortune leaned close. “I really have to go,” she said. “Congratulations.”

He turned his head. Their noses almost touched. “Have dinner with me.”

She pulled back. “I can’t,” she said quietly.

She left. He would’ve had to stop her by force, something he was tempted to do, but instead he watched her disappear into the crowd, wondering what her story was, wishing he could get his hands on that incredible body.

The thrill of the game gone for him, he scooped up his winnings, was accompanied to the cashier and cashed out. Now what? He couldn’t drive home to Philadelphia, not with four Scotch and waters in him.

He could get a room, order room service and face the contents of the letter, and the memories….

He hesitated, a rarity for him. He usually dealt with situations head-on and quickly. But this was going to require some soul searching, and he wasn’t comfortable with that. Damn you, Hunter.

Dev found the front desk, got himself a room on the twenty-fifth floor and headed to the elevator banks. When a bell pinged he moved to stand in front of the arriving elevator. The doors opened. Ms. Fortune stood there.

More than a coincidence, he thought. Fate.

She didn’t make a move to exit. He entered, pushed the button for his floor. The doors closed behind him.

A tight, hot ball formed inside his chest at the pain he saw in her eyes. “Who broke your heart?” he asked.

Her eyes filled instantly with tears.

“Let me fix it,” he said softly.

Wordlessly he moved closer, put his arms around her and gently pulled her close. She resisted, then she pressed her face into his shoulder and slid her arms around him, squeezing tight, a small sob escaping. He brushed his lips to her temple.

All too soon the doors opened.

“Come with me,” he said into her ear. “Stay with me tonight.”

After a moment she nodded then stepped away.

He reached for her hand. “What’s your name?” he asked, holding the door, preventing it from closing.

“Nicole.”

“I’m Devlin.”

Hand in hand, they walked down the hall.

May 1, Sterling Palace Hotel and Casino,

Stateline, Nevada

Where was Ms. Fortune when he needed her?

Devlin Campbell studied his surroundings, his equilibrium challenged by the garish neon lights and incessant slot-machine noise. This time he couldn’t win at the blackjack table, not one hand. He wasn’t superstitious, wasn’t blaming his losses on his former lucky charm not being at his side. He knew it was, instead, that sly culprit, jet lag.

And so instead of focusing on the cards, he found himself watching the people milling around, even though there was no reason to continually search the casino for her…Ms. Fortune. Nicole. After all, he’d met her on the other side of the country, ships passing in the night—or more appropriately in this case, ports in a storm, finding comfort and refuge in each other’s arms for reasons neither of them had confided. He hadn’t experienced another night like it, before or since, although he’d gone back twice, hoping…

Yeah, jet lag. With the three-hour time difference in Philadelphia, he’d already put in a full day. Not to mention the fourteen-hour days he’d been working the past month in preparation for this trip.

Dev watched the dealer dispense the cards, then turn up a king for himself. Dev looked at his hand—seven and five.

He didn’t know why he’d come to the casino in the first place. The refrigerator at the lodge where he was supposed to stay had been stocked by an attractive, efficient young woman named Mary, who’d met him with a key dangling off an ornate keychain. He could’ve heated up one of the meals from a local restaurant she’d thoughtfully provided, then gone to bed. Instead he hadn’t even unpacked, hadn’t taken time to tour the spectacular log house.