The Playboy's Baby

“You must be joking!” She’s sexy, successful... and PREGNANT! Title Page CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN Copyright

“You must be joking!”

“The results plainly show....”

“Stuff and nonsense!” Samantha exclaimed. “The whole idea is so ludicrous.”

“Nevertheless, you are pregnant,” the doctor continued in a firm but gentle voice. “You are expecting a baby... a January baby. That’s nice.”

“Nice...?” Samantha gasped. It wasn’t that she didn’t want a baby. It was just... well, she hadn’t even gotten around to thinking about marriage, children and all that stuff. That was part of life which, up to now, she’d always thought of as being an experience that lay ahead of her. Something to look foward to, in the future. Not when she’d just achieved the first, great success of her career. And most definitely not when her brief love affair with the baby’s father had proved so disastrously short.

But whatever happened, she definitely was going to keep her baby. Now for the One Million Dollar Question: what was she going to do about Matt?

She’s sexy, successful... and PREGNANT!

Relax and enjoy our new series of stories about spirited women and gorgeous men, whose passion results in pregnancies... sometimes unexpected! Of course, the birth of a baby is always a joyful event, and we can guarantee that our characters will become besotted moms and dads—but what happened in those nine months before?

Share the surprises, emotions, dramas and suspense as our parents-to-be come to terms with the prospect of bringing a new little life into the world.... All will discover that the business of making babies brings with it the most special love of all....

Look out next month for:

Accidental Baby by Kim Lawrence

Harlequin Presents®#2034

The Playboy’s Baby

Mary Lyons

CHAPTER ONE

‘WELL, young lady, we’re certainly all looking forward to hearing your presentation this afternoon.’

The grey-haired chairman of one of the largest corporate businesses in America smiled down at the slim blonde girl standing beside him. ‘I understand that you are intending to tell us all about the European Bond Market,’ he added with a distinct twinkle in his eye.

‘Well... er...’ Samantha Thomas cleared her throat nervously, desperately trying to think of what to say to this well-known and highly distinguished man, who quite obviously knew far more about the subject than she did.

What on earth was she doing here, in New York? she asked herself, feeling sick with nerves as she tried to control the small coffee cup and saucer from rattling in her trembling hands.

How could she have been such an idiot as to even think of agreeing to give a keynote speech at this financial seminar? Especially when she ought to have known that it would be attended by so many high-powered bankers and economists—all of whom were obviously far more intelligent and successful than she could ever hope to be.

However, as if able to read her mind, the elderly businessman gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder.

‘When you’ve been in the job as long as I have,’ he said, ‘you’ll realise that no one is so smart—or so clever—that he or she can’t learn something new, every day. So, don’t worry. I’m sure that you’ll do just fine,’ he added with an encouraging smile, before his attention was claimed by a group of corporate tax lawyers on the other side of the small ante-room.

Allowing a passing waiter to pour her another cup of strong coffee, Samantha made a determined effort to pull herself together. After all, she would never have been asked to speak at this prestigious conference if the organisers had felt she was likely to make a fool of herself. And besides, she was now in charge of her own team, in the UK pension fund department at Minerva Utilities Management, in London. Right? All the same...

Her gloomy, nervous thoughts were interrupted as she heard her name being called out by Candy, one of the assistants to the conference organiser, as she quickly wove her way towards Samantha through the crowd of people.

‘I’m so sorry that I had to rush off halfway through lunch!’ Candy exclaimed hurriedly. ‘Unfortunately, there’s been a bit of a problem with this afternoon’s seminar. The person who was supposed to be introducing your talk was taken ill late last night. So, my boss has been on the phone all morning, trying to find a replacement. However... it’s been sorted out now. And it’s all thanks to you,’ Candy added with a laugh. ‘You certainly seem to have some friends in high places!’

Feeling slightly bewildered by the rapid, breathless flow of words, Samantha struggled to make sense of what the other girl had been saying.

‘I don’t understand... What “friends in high places”? I hardly know anyone in New York.’

‘Oh, yeah? That’s not what I hear!’ Candy grinned. ‘So, what is it with you and the glamorous Mr Matthew Warner?’

‘Mr Matthew Warner?’ Sam echoed blankly, her brain in a complete daze for a moment as she stared open-mouthed at the dark-haired girl standing beside her. ‘Well... yes, I did once know someone of that name. But... but that was in England. And a very, very long time ago. I’m sorry, but I think... well, I really think you must be mistaken.’

‘Oh, really?’ Candy grinned again. ‘Well, it seems that Mr Warner certainly remembers you. In fact, he was categorically refusing to help us out until my boss faxed over your CV to his office. And then, what do you know? Hey Presto! His personal assistant phones to say that he’d be delighted to chair the meeting—and to renew his acquaintance with an old friend.’

Samantha’s head was still spinning as the other girl gave her a quick dig in the ribs.

‘Uh-huh! Look—there he is. Standing by the door, on the other side of the room,’ Candy muttered out of the side of her mouth. ‘And if you have managed to forget such a gorgeous man—I reckon you must need your head examined!’ she added with a muffled laugh. ‘Not only tall, dark, handsome and incredibly rich—but also, I hear on the grapevine, currently unattached. What more could any girl ask for in her Christmas stocking?’

‘It’s still only April—so you’ve got a long time to wait,’ Sam found herself muttering inanely as she turned to look across the room.

‘Who cares?’ Candy giggled. ‘I’d be happy to have him delivered gift-wrapped any time of the year!’

But Samantha wasn’t listening. Every ounce of her being was concentrated on focusing on the tall, dark man standing in the doorway, clearly relaxed and at ease as his gaze travelled slowly around the chattering groups of people in the small room. And then, as their eyes met, he stood very still for a moment before giving a slight nod of wry acknowledgement as he began walking slowly through the crowd towards her.

Her first, overriding thought was that someone had obviously made a bad mistake. It couldn’t possibly be the man to whom she’d lost her heart all those years ago.

For one thing, Warner was a fairly common surname. And besides, the Matthew Warner whom she’d known had been a young lecturer at Oxford University—normally clothed in scruffy jeans and a well-worn, slightly threadbare jacket, like most of his academic contemporaries. Absolutely light years away from this immaculately dressed, distinguished-looking man who was now strolling so coolly and confidently towards her.

And yet... well, maybe there was something disturbingly familiar about the tall, elegant stranger...?

As he drew nearer, Samantha was almost physically aware of the colour draining from her face. Her senses, clearly far more alert than her dazed mind, instinctively responding as she felt her stomach give a sudden, sickening lurch of fear and recognition, her pulse beginning to race out of control as he came to a halt in front of her nervous, trembling figure.

‘Hello, Sam. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?’

Samantha was rigid with shock, and it was some moments before she was able to comprehend the evidence of her own eyes and ears. And then she knew, with absolute certainty, that there was no possibility of a mistake.

While she might have been momentarily fooled by the expensive, hand-tailored dark suit, pristine white silk shirt and discreet silk tie, there was no disguising that oh, so familiar, deep, husky tone of voice.

Oh, my God! It really was Matt Warner, his green eyes beneath their heavy lids glinting with wry amusement as he gazed down at her stunned expression—the very last man in the world she had ever expected, or wanted, to see.

Well. . .certainly not here, in New York. And most definitely not now—just as she was about to give the most important speech of her life.

It simply wasn’t fair! Samantha told herself bitterly, standing silently by as Candy quickly grabbed the opportunity to introduce herself. If she’d ever hoped to meet up again with the man who’d so cruelly broken her heart—and, being only human, of course she had—she could never have devised such a disastrous scenario.

Her favourite fantasy had tended to revolve around the idea of Matt—by now reduced to begging a living outside the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden—humbly grateful for the coin idly thrown his way as she, dressed up to the nines, swept past him on the arm of a handsome, mega-rich captain of industry. It had most definitely not involved her standing here, wearing a boringly conventional, navy blue business suit, and totally paralysed with nerves. For heaven’s sake—was there no justice in this world?

‘And how long are you staying in town?’

Rapidly struggling to pull herself together, Samantha realised that she’d hardly heard a word he’d been saying.

‘I. . .er. . .I’m just here for a few d-days,’ she stuttered helplessly, her mind still in a chaotic daze.

His lips twitching with amusement at her evident confusion, Matt asked where she was staying—nodding approval at her choice of the Mark Hotel, on East Seventy-seventh Street.

‘They’ll certainly make sure that you are well looked after. So, what do you think of New York?’

‘It’s an amazing place... so alive and exciting,’ she murmured distractedly, before giving a helpless shrug of her slim shoulders. ‘I’m sorry, Matt. I don’t seem to be able to concentrate on anything just at the moment. I mean... it’s really great to see you after all these years. But unfortunately I’m just about to give a speech. In front of all these really important people. And... and I’ve never felt quite so nervous in all my life!’ she gabbled wildly, the coffee cup and saucer clattering like a pair of castanets in her nervous, shaking hands.

In what seemed the twinkling of an eye, Matthew Warner quickly took control of the situation. Smoothly dismissing Candy with a charming smile, he calmly steered Samantha towards a small bar at the end of the room, where he proceeded to order her a glass of neat brandy.

‘Are you crazy?’ she exclaimed in horror. ‘The next thing you know, I’ll be had up for being drunk in charge of a podium!’

‘Rubbish! Drink it up,” he retorted.

‘It’s all very well for you,’ she protested, ashamed to find herself weakly doing as she was told. ‘You haven’t got to stand up in a few moments’ time and make an absolute fool of yourself before some of the cleverest financial minds in New York. I just know that it’s going to be an absolute disaster!’ she added helplessly, feeling almost faint with nervous tension.

‘Nonsense!’ he told her firmly. ‘Not only were you my best and brightest pupil all those years ago. But, if your current CV is anything to go by, it looks as though you’ve been moving swiftly up the corporate ladder, and achieving considerable success in your field.’

‘Well, yes, I suppose so.’ Samantha gave an embarrassed shrug of her shoulders, ashamed to have been caught off-guard and exposing herself to ridicule—by Matt, of all people.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t just the fact that her stomach seemed to be churning around like a cement mixer out of control, which was making her feel so peculiar. The close proximity of this man, whom she hadn’t seen for such a long time, didn’t seem to be doing a damn thing for her normally calm, stable equilibrium, either. Maybe another quick glance at her speech—which she’d spent hours writing last night—would help to steady her nerves?

‘I don’t want to hear any more of this “poor little me” nonsense,’ Matt was saying, a warm smile taking the sting out of his words as she extracted the typewritten pages from her handbag. ‘And, believe me, that’s definitely a bad mistake.’

‘What?’ She glanced up at him in confusion.

‘Are those the notes for the speech you’re intending to give this afternoon?’

‘Yes. I just thought that... Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ she exclaimed as he swiftly removed the papers from her hands.

‘I take it that you do know what you’re going to be talking about?’ he drawled, leafing quickly through the closely typed pages.

‘Of course I do!’ she snapped angrily, the strong, heady fumes of the brandy beginning to flow swiftly through her veins.

‘Well, in that case, you’ll have no need of these,’ he said, ignoring her gasp of horror as he swiftly tore the white pages in half. ‘With everything you have to say clearly in your mind,’ Matt added firmly, ‘there’s absolutely no point in allowing yourself to be distracted by continually being forced to consult your notes.’

‘Oh, great! Thanks—for absolutely nothing!’ she hissed furiously. ‘So, what the hell am I supposed to do now?’

‘What you’re going to do, my dear Sam, is to walk in there and give the speech of your life,’ he drawled, taking hold of her arm and leading her slowly across the room as they followed the other guests towards the conference hall.

‘I’ll never forgive you for this,’ she ground out savagely. ‘Absolutely never!’

He gave a low, maddening chuckle of sardonic laughter. ‘Oh, yes, you will! In fact, I fully expect to receive your grateful thanks, when I take you out to dinner tonight. ’

‘In your dreams!’ she snorted with derision.

‘Well, yes...’ he murmured, turning to look at the slim figure of the girl walking beside him, his glance travelling over the shining mass of pale gold hair caught up in a knot at the crown of her head, a few tendrils escaping to frame her lightly tanned, heart-shaped face and large blue eyes. ‘Yes, I think you could be right,’ he added enigmatically.

‘However, in the meantime,’ he continued firmly, ‘all you have to do is to take a deep breath—and then sock it to ’em. Believe me, you’re going to be a great success.’

Entering her hotel bedroom, Samantha tossed her handbag on to a nearby chair, before quickly slipping off her shoes and throwing herself down on the thick mattress of the comfortable, king-sized bed.

Phew! What a day this had turned out to be, she told herself, closing her eyes and allowing the strain and tension of the past few hours to seep gradually from her exhausted mind and body.

However galling it might be, she had to admit that Matt had been quite right, after all. Without the safety-net of written notes, she’d had no choice but to stand on the dais in front of so many people and, as he’d so graphically put it, ‘sock it to ’em’.

At the start of the afternoon session, as she’d sat beside him on the dais, desperately trying to ignore her sheer terror and stage fright, it had been some moments before Samantha had begun to realise that she was indeed very lucky to have Matt chairing the meeting.

From the moment he’d risen to his feet, welcoming the delegates and making one or two glancing references to events on Wall Street—which had left her completely baffled, but produced gales of laughter from the audience—he’d had everyone relaxed, cheerful and eating out of his hand.

So much so, that, when it was time to take her place on the podium, Samantha had finally managed to get a grip on herself. Suddenly realising that she did know what she was talking about, and with everyone apparently eager to hear what she had to say, she’d found no problem in getting her message across to the assembled company.

At the close of her speech, her ears had been ringing with applause as she left the dais. Trembling with a mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration, she’d found herself totally surrounded by a crowd of people. In fact she had been so busy—both accepting congratulations and answering the many questions raised by her speech—that she’d somehow lost sight of Matt. And unfortunately, by the time she’d managed to catch her breath and look about her, he’d been nowhere to be seen.

Feeling extremely guilty, since she really did owe him an enormous vote of thanks, there had been nothing she could do about the situation, other than allow herself to be chauffeured back to her hotel.

But now, as she sat bolt upright on the bed, she was dismayed to realise that she had no way of contacting Matt. She didn’t know where he lived. She hadn’t a clue as to the name of his business—or the location of his office. Nor, come to that, had she any idea of what he was doing here, in the United States.

Bitterly ashamed of having been so preoccupied with her own problems this afternoon that she’d completely failed to show any interest in Matt’s affairs—or to enquire what had happened to him during the past eight or nine years—she wondered what on earth she could do to rectify the situation.

After spending some moments buried in thought, Samantha soon realised that the only person who could help her was Candy.

Unfortunately, a quick glance at her bedside clock told her that it was now six-thirty on a Friday night. The other girl would obviously have left her office by now. Which meant that Samantha had no way of contacting her, or the organisation which had arranged the seminar, until first thing on Monday morning. And since she, herself, was due to fly back to England on Monday evening, she would have virtually no opportunity either to see Matt again or to thank him for his kindness and support this afternoon.

Still... maybe it was just as well. After all, despite what that silly girl Candy had said about Matt being ‘unattached’, it was virtually certain that such a handsome, attractive man would be either married—or heavily involved in a current, romantic relationship.

Besides... despite her total preoccupation with her own problems, the way her nerve-ends had been tingling during their brief encounter this afternoon wasn’t exactly good news. So, it was probably best—for her own peace of mind, anyway—that they should have no more contact with one another.

Despite having given herself such very good advice, Samantha lay back on the pillows desperately trying to control a sudden cloud of dark depression. Of course, there had been other men in her life—not to mention that brief, disastrous marriage which she’d made on the rebound from her romance with Matt. However, she’d never again experienced such an intense, profound depth of emotion as she’d once felt for the man who had so unexpectedly reappeared in her life.

Pull yourself together! she told herself roughly. That had all been a very long time ago—when she’d been as green as grass, and deeply in the throes of her first love affair. Her life was very different, nowadays.

And she had so much to be thankful for: a job which she loved and a glamorous, penthouse loft apartment which—despite having cost an arm and a leg—was proving to be a splendid capital investment. She was also the proud possessor of a speedy little BMW, and was earning what her parents and two sisters regarded as a totally indecent amount of money.

So, who needed love, romance and all that heavy stuff? Especially since it would only detract from her singleminded and whole-hearted devotion to her career. Oh, yes—she was now fully in control of her own destiny.

Just as she was assuring herself that she had a totally satisfactory lifestyle—and that an attractive and sexy man was the very last thing she needed in her life, at the moment—the fax machine on the desk across the room suddenly began to clatter.

This really was a wonderful hotel, Samantha told herself as she slowly rolled off the bed. Whilst cushioning its guests in total luxury, the Mark also had the added bonus of providing what was virtually an individual office in each bedroom. As well as the fax and phone on the Chippendale-style desk, there were also plugs and ports for her laptop computer, and any other fancy gismo which she might care to use.

All of which meant that she was able to keep in constant contact with her office, back in London, through phone, fax and e-mail. Although she was surprised that her office should be contacting her, since it must be about midnight in London. What sort of crisis could have blown up at this late hour? she wondered, frowning as she removed the message from the fax machine.

But it wasn’t from her office in London. Samantha’s eyes widened as she noted the name at the top of the page. Even she, unfamiliar as she was with the financial rating of American big business, knew that Broadwood Securities Inc. was one of the largest companies in the United States. Her eyes widened even further as she noted that the letter bore the signature of one Matthew Warner: chairman and chief executive.

She gave- an incredulous whistle. Oh, wow! It looked as if Candy had been quite right, after all. Because it was now clear that Matt was definitely a big cheese on Wall Street No wonder everyone in the audience, this afternoon, had been hanging on his every word!

In fact, it was rather depressing to realise that maybe her speech hadn’t really been quite so great, after all. Since she’d been heavily endorsed by one of the prime movers and shakers of the business world, it would have been a miracle if she hadn’t been listened to with serious attention.

Well, that’s put you in your place, my girl! Samantha told herself ruefully, before belatedly reading the rest of the letter, which was brief and to the point. Reminding her of his invitation, earlier this afternoon, Matt had made arrangements to take her out to dinner at the Four Seasons, and would be picking her up from the hotel at seven-thirty this evening.

Arrogant swine! For all he knew, she could be kneedeep in invitations for this evening. And, for at least five seconds, Samantha seriously considered faxing back a message, telling him to get lost!

However, swiftly recalling her need to thank Matt for his efforts this afternoon—quite apart from the fact that she really did want to see him again—Samantha glanced down at her watch, before giving a quick yelp of dismay. She only had about three-quarters of an hour in which to not only wash and dry her long hair, but also to find something ultra-smart to wear. Because even she, who hardly knew New York, was well aware that the Four Seasons was one of the most glamorous restaurants in the city.

Just over half an hour later, Samantha was regarding herself anxiously in the huge mirror in the bathroom.

Having only packed a few suitable clothes for what was, as far as she’d been aware, nothing more than a business trip, she could only thank her lucky stars that she had, at the last minute, tossed into her suitcase this little black dress. But was it too plain and boring?

A very simple sheath of black silk crêpe, which had been a mainstay of her wardrobe for the past few years, it was hardly likely to set the world on fire! Even the single row of pearls, while emphasising her long, slim neck, couldn’t manage to make an inexpensive dress look a million dollars.

Still. . . what the heck? There was absolutely no point in worrying too much about her ensemble, since there was virtually nothing she could do about it. And if Matt thought she didn’t look smart enough—well, that was just too bad.