The Baby Project

“This baby is my only connection to my sister.”

Jordan continued. “I want to be part of his life, and I want him to be a part of mine.”

“But you spend most of your time abroad!”

“No problem. I’d hire a nanny to care for him while I’m out of the country.”

“A nanny?” Mallory’s expression was outraged. “You’d leave Matthew with a stranger? No way! I’ll fight you in court if—”

“The other option,” Jordan interjected smoothly, “would be for the two of us to share custody….”

Grace Green grew up in Scotland but later immigrated to Canada with her husband and children. They settled in “Beautiful Super Natural B.C.” and Grace now lives in a house just minutes from ocean, beaches, mountains and rain forest. She makes no secret of her favorite occupation—her bumper sticker reads I’d Rather Be Writing Romance! Grace also enjoys walking the seawall, gardening, getting together with other authors…and watching her characters come to life, because she knows that once they do, they will take over and write her stories for her.

Books by Grace Green

HARLEQUIN ROMANCE®

3526—THE WEDDING PROMISE

3542—BRANNIGAN’S BABY

3586—NEW YEAR…NEW FAMILY

The Baby Project

Grace Green

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For John

CONTENTS

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 ONE

“JORDAN CAINE is a cad!”

“Oh, he is, Angelina!” Outrage sparked in Monique’s faded blue eyes. “Leaving our dear sweet Mallory to cope on her own all these months without so much as a postcard.”

“Well, the man does appear to be an adventurer.” Eighty-year-old Emily looked anxiously at the other two over her half glasses. “But sisters, we’ve never even met Mr. Caine. Shouldn’t we give him the benefit of the doubt?”

Angelina sighed. “Emily, you can be very trying. Any man who has behaved as badly as he has doesn’t deserve—”

The front doorbell chimed, making them all start. They looked at each other meaningfully, and then with one accord set their bedtime mugs of hot milk on the coffee table.

“She’s here,” whispered Emily. “Let us have no more talk of Jordan Caine.”

All three cocked their heads and listened.

From their cosy nook in the sitting room, they heard brisk footsteps cross the hall. Then they heard the front door opening and Elsa, their landlady, say warmly, “Mallory, come away in. How was your trip? It’s almost midnight! I was beginning to worry about you.”

“I’m so sorry, Elsa. My last day of work, and so many loose ends to tidy…and then the staff surprised me with a Goodbye party and there was no way I could disappoint…”

The voices faded.

After several minutes, during which time the sisters sat tensely without talking, they heard steps approaching. Catching their breath, they turned towards the door and waited.

The door opened.

When Mallory appeared in the doorway, they sighed with pleasure at the sight of her. She looked lovely as always, in a short-skirted black suit, with an ivory shirt and stylish black pumps. Her face was pale and her features strained, but her genuine smile brought her dusky brown eyes to life.

“Hi, ladies,” she said. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

Not for the world would they have told her they had waited up to make sure she arrived safely.

“Just finishing our hot milk,” Angelina murmured.

“I’m going along to Number Five now.” Mallory raised both hands and shoved back her unruly auburn locks. “But I hope you’ll drop by and visit tomorrow.”

“Everything’s settled?” Monique asked.

“Everything’s settled.”

“So,” Emily’s tone was awed, “you’ve burned your boats.”

“Burned my boats and my bridges and everything else.” Mallory’s wry smile brought a dimple to her right cheek. “From now on, the only way to go is forward.”

“Good luck, dear,” they chorused.

“Thank you. I’m going to need it!”

With a little wave, she closed the door and walked back into the hallway.

Elsa was waiting for her, with the baby in her arms.

“He’s teething,” Elsa said as she carefully handed over the infant. “He was cranky earlier, but he’s settled now.”

Mallory felt her heart melt with love as she looked down at the sleeping child. Tenderly she ran a finger over his flushed cheeks. “Poor mite.”

“I was along at Number Five earlier and aired out all the bedding. Just pop him in his crib and with a bit of luck he’ll sleep through till morning.”

“I hope so.” Mallory stifled a huge yawn. “I’ll be out like a light myself as soon as my head hits the pillow.”

Jordan Caine slammed the door of his scarlet Lexus, slung his leather travel bag over his shoulder, and strode purposefully up the drive to Number Five Seaside Lane.

The rambling old house was beautifully silvered by moonlight, but he paid little attention to it or any of his other surroundings. This place didn’t interest him. If there was one thing he hated, it was small-town living. He planned to sleep in the house tonight; put it on the market tomorrow; and be on his way again by lunch-time…shaking the beach sand of this sea-salty little Washington resort from his size eleven boots before it had time to stick.

Sliding his key into the lock, he opened the front door and stepped inside. Moonlight streamed down through the skylight above the staircase, and in its bone-white wash, he saw that the roomy hallway was very sparsely furnished.

The only other time he’d been in this house it had been empty. As he’d discussed terms with the Seashore realtor, his voice had echoed back from the bare walls. Apart from a few sticks of furniture the house seemed just as empty now—

A creaking sound came from his left. He spun around as sharply as if it had been a gunshot.

Then frustrated by his hair-trigger reaction, he swore. He hadn’t realized his nerves were still so badly on edge….

The sound had come from the downstairs bedroom. He crossed the hall, turned the doorknob with a stealthy hand, and warily pushed the door inwards.

A low-wattage bedside lamp cast a pool of light over the empty bed, leaving most of the room in shadow—

His heart gave an erratic lurch when he saw that someone—a woman—was slumped in a rocking chair by the bed.

She was asleep; he could hear her regular breathing.

Her face was in shadow but he could see that she had a luxuriant tumble of long curly hair. She was wearing a light shirt with a dark suit; the jacket lay untidily open, the skirt had ridden halfway up her thighs. Her legs—long fantastic legs—were stretched out before her and a pair of high-heeled pumps lay askew on the carpet.

She shifted position and her head lolled sideways, towards the light, giving him a clear view of her face.

His first thought was: “Wow, what a stunner!”

His second thought was a shocked and furious: “It’s that Madison woman!”

What the hell was she doing here? Clenching his hands into fists, he glared at her. He felt an overwhelming urge to grab her by the shoulders, shake her from her sleep, and demand that she explain what she was doing in his house.

His scowl deepened as his gaze flicked to the framed photograph sitting on the bedside table. He recognized it as one of the pictures taken on his sister’s wedding day.

Even as grief tore at him afresh, he felt the old anger rise to block it out. He wanted to smash the picture against the wall—the picture of his sister Janine and that man, looking besottedly at each other. To their right, Mallory Madison, maid of honour, her eyes bright with joy. To their left, Jordan Caine, best man, his happy expression an utter travesty. He’d put on an Oscar-calibre performance that day, in order not to spoil his sister’s wedding.

A wedding that would never have taken place if Mallory Madison hadn’t given the couple her full support, over his own strenuous objections to the marriage.

For that, he would never forgive her.

But it would be a huge mistake to waken her now and confront her—after his recent harrowing ordeal, his emotions were far too volatile. Better to wait till he’d had a good night’s sleep and was more in control of himself.

After giving her one last black glower, he left the room and made his way wearily up the stairs.

There were four bedrooms on this level, and when he opened the door to the first, he found it was furnished with a single bed and a small dresser. The room was obviously not currently in use—it was bare of personal items and the air was stale. He would make it his. Just for the night.

Tossing down his travel bag, he crossed impatiently to the window and pushed it open. Outside, moonlight spangled the jet-black ocean; stars winked down from an indigo sky. And summer scents swept in on the ocean breeze, invoking a poignancy that caught him unawares and made his throat ache.

Irritably, he tugged the curtains shut. And turning away, he crossed to the bed. Stripping to his jeans, he crashed on top of the covers. And within seconds, he was fast asleep.

Mallory awoke at dawn.

And she realized, to her dismay, that she had fallen asleep in the rocking chair, where she’d sat down for a moment after she’d settled Matthew in his crib. She must have been even more exhausted than she’d thought!

Getting up, she stretched to iron out the kinks in her muscles, and then, with an anticipatory smile, she tiptoed over to the crib in the far corner of the room.

Matthew was still asleep. And as always, her heart turned to mush when she looked at the nine-month-old baby. She couldn’t have loved him more if he’d been her own…

And once Jordan Caine had relinquished any claim to the child—as he undoubtedly would, since he’d shown no interest in him till this date—she could legally make him her own.

The problem was she hadn’t the faintest idea where the man was—all her efforts to contact him had been in vain. She hadn’t spoken to him for months—not since the day his sister and Tom had died in a train crash and she’d called to tell him. She knew, of course, how he felt about Tom but she’d believed he truly cared for Janine and she found it unforgivable that he hadn’t come home for her funeral.

The thought lingered sourly as she padded through to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. But as she looked around the big homey room and pictured her new life at Number Five with Matthew, her spirits rose again.

Humming under her breath, she slipped off her rumpled suit jacket and slung it over the back of Matthew’s high chair. While she waited for the coffee to drip, she cut two slices of whole-wheat bread and popped them in the toaster.

Still humming, she pulled back the yellow-and-white gingham curtains. But as she did, two things impinged on her senses and froze the breath in her throat:

She saw a racy scarlet Lexus sitting in the drive…

And she heard a floorboard squeak behind her.

She whirled around. And shock slammed through her when she saw a dark-bearded stranger looming in the kitchen doorway. His hair was black and shaggy; his hands were fisted; and his gray eyes were fixed on her with a ferocious intensity that could only mean murder.

She lunged for the bread knife and clutching the handle with both hands, held it out in front of her, the tip of the razor-sharp blade pointed directly at him.

“I don’t know who you are,” she said in a shrill voice. “And I don’t know what you want, but get out! Right now!”

The stranger raised a cynical eyebrow. “Why, Mallory, dear!” Sarcasm reverberated in his husky baritone voice. “Is that any way to greet your brother-inlaw?”

“Brother-in-law?” The knife trembled in her fingers. “What are you talking about? I don’t have a—”

“Strictly speaking, no. But since your brother was married to my sister, I guess that’s the closest I can come to describing our…relationship.”

Mallory struggled to catch her breath. She gawked disbelievingly, trying to verify his claim, trying to recognize the man behind the black stubbled beard.

She’d met Janine’s brother only once, on the day of the wedding, but then he’d been clean-shaven and elegant and—she’d had to admit it—devastatingly attractive in a black tux. He’d looked like a movie star. This man was scruffy and edgy and wearing nothing but an old pair of blue jeans. He looked like a prisoner on the run.

The man she remembered had been tall and solidly built. This man was tall, but he didn’t have a spare ounce of flesh on his darkly tanned body. He was lean and hard and—

“Oh, it’s me,” he drawled. “Or are you staring because you get your jollies out of looking at a man’s half-naked torso?”

She wrenched her gaze from his powerfully muscled chest and opened her mouth to let fly with a scathing retort, only to have the angry words dry up in her throat. He’d raked back his hair, revealing an inch-long white scar on his forehead. A scar she recognized.

This was indeed Jordan Caine. As she assimilated the fact, she felt faint with relief. For months she’d tried desperately to get in touch with this man so she could put her plans in motion. Now—oh, joy!—he was here.

Controlling a rush of euphoria, she set the knife on the counter. “How did you get into the house?”

“I have a key. Which was just as well—I doubt you’d have heard me if I’d rung the bell, you were out like a light. By the way, you’ll be glad to know you don’t snore.”

She stared at him. “What? How do you know—”

“I arrived in the early hours but before I went upstairs I heard a movement in that bedroom so I checked it out. You were sound asleep in a creaky old rocking chair.”

“You mean…you slept here?”

“Of course.”

Her mind boggled at the absolute gall of the man—walking into the house like that, as if he owned it! With an effort, she held onto her temper. “What do you want?”

“Right now,” he said with a mocking smile, “what I want is coffee. Did you happen to make enough for—”

The toast popped up and to her astonishment, he whirled towards the sound, his body taut. The spring-loaded reaction made her blink. She’d sensed the man was on edge but this was ridiculous. Curiosity burned inside her—

But when he turned to her again, his eyes had a diamond-hard glitter. A warning glitter. Mind your own business. He didn’t say the words; he didn’t need to.

She swallowed back her half-formed questions. “I didn’t make enough coffee for two, but help yourself. I’ll put on another pot when I’ve had my shower.”

“And we’ll talk. You have a bit of explaining to do.”

“I have a bit of explaining to do?” She glowered at him. “You’ve got to be kidding! You’re the one who—”

“Could you pass me a mug?”

Lips compressed, she reached into the cupboard. He stepped over and held out his hand. As he took the mug, she caught a hint of his musky male scent. It was earthy as a dark forest, erotic as an intimate caress. She felt an unfamiliar tingling sensation deep down inside her…a sensation that was as unsettling as it was unwelcome.

She drew back sharply, but not before she’d seen his mouth slant in a knowing smile.

“I guess,” he murmured maliciously as he poured his coffee, “you’re not used to having a half-naked male around in the morning. Sorry if I’m disturbing you—”

“On the contrary,” she retorted with a haughty tilt of her chin, “I’m quite used to having a half-naked male around in the morning—and not only in the kitchen, but in my bed!”

She whirled away from him and stalked out of the kitchen, her cheeks burning. But even as she hurried to the bedroom, she heard his mocking laughter follow her.

The sooner she got rid of him the better, she decided angrily—though she must be careful not to antagonize him. He could so easily put obstacles in the way of her becoming Matthew’s legal guardian, and that was to be avoided at all costs. No, on the surface she’d have to be nice to Jordan Caine. It would be a very small price to pay in the end.

She closed the bedroom door and tiptoed over to check on Matthew. He was still asleep, thank goodness. She hoped he wouldn’t waken till after she and his uncle had had their talk. She didn’t want to be distracted during what was going to be the most important conversation of her life.

“Right, let’s have that talk.” Jordan leaned back against the countertop, watching Ms. Madison through narrowed eyes as she made a fresh pot of coffee. Earlier, touslehaired and terrified, with yesterday’s lipstick and mascara smudged—and with a scalpel-sharp bread knife pointed directly at his heart!—she’d looked sexy as hell. Now, in a demure green T-shirt and perky shorts, with her hair neatly scooped up in a topknot and her face scrubbed clean, she looked even sexier. Too bad she was a redhead; the situation could have been interesting. “For starters, what are you doing here?”

“That’s exactly what I was going to ask you.” Taking toast from the toaster, she crossed to the table. “But okay, I’ll go first. I’ve moved in. As of last night.”

He did a double take. “Moved in?”

She buttered the toast. “I plan on living here.” She reached for the marmalade. “For the foreseeable future.”

“In this house? Are we talking about the same place? Number Five Seaside Lane?”

She turned to him, her brown eyes faintly surprised. “Yes. Do you have a problem with that?”

He paused for a moment, and then faking an encouraging tone that set his teeth on edge, he said, “Tell me more about these plans of yours. As I recall, you had a job in Seattle…?”

His nonthreatening manner had its desired effect; he could see her relax, could see he’d put her off-guard.

“That’s right,” she said. And added impulsively, “I have to admit that the last several months haven’t been easy. I’ve driven here every Friday after work, gone back to Seattle every Sunday night. It’s been awful, not being with Matthew through the week. I’ve missed him so much—but now we can be together all the time and I’m so happy about that. You’ll get to meet him in a minute,” she added with a smile. “He’s still asleep, but he should be wakening soon.”

She’d brought a lover here? Jordan stared at her incredulously. “He slept in this house last night?”

“Mmm.”

“He wasn’t in your bed!”

“I don’t let him into my bed every night—only when he’s whiny.”

“Whiny?” Good grief, what kind of a wimp was the guy!

“Look, I’m not expecting you to get involved with him. In fact, I’m assuming you won’t want to and I’d actually prefer that you didn’t. But it would be nice if you could send him a postcard once in a while when you’re abroad—”

“Are you out of your mind? I want nothing to do with him. I don’t even want to see him!”

His vehemence obviously jolted her; but at the same time he saw an expression of relief in her eyes.

“Then that will make everything easier for me,” she said. “I was afraid that if you once held him in your arms you might fall in love with him and want him for yourself.”

“What the hell do you—”

“I’m sorry, but try to see it from my point of view. I’ve been trying to contact you for months so we could straighten everything out but when I didn’t hear from you, I decided to forge on with my own plans on the assumption that you wanted nothing to do with the situation. You can’t blame me, since you didn’t even bother to come home for the funeral! And since you told me at the wedding that you’d never forgive me for supporting Tom and Janine when they wanted to marry, I figured I’d never see you again.”

“My sister was barely eighteen,” he snapped. “Your brother got her pregnant when she was little more than a child herself. He was twenty-four, and took advantage of a girl who was immature and—”

“They married because they were in love.”

“There’s no point in discussing this now. It’s water under the bridge. But you’re right about one thing. I’ll never forgive you for the part you played—”

“I don’t want your forgiveness. Nor do I need it. As for Tom, you never did understand him. You didn’t take the time to get to know him and if you had, you’d have learned what a fine and decent man he was.”

“No decent man would have—” He sliced his hand down in a dismissive gesture. “We’re only rehashing what we said on their wedding day. Let’s get back on track. Tell me about these plans of yours…to live in this house.”

Before answering, she poured her coffee and set the yellow ceramic mug on the table. When she spoke, it was quietly.

“Tom and Janine had signed the lease for a year and on their death it still had several months to run so I took over the payments. The lease came up for renewal last month and I signed the contract for another year at the same rate.” She toyed abstractedly with her thin gold necklace. “It’s a beautiful house, I can’t imagine why the owner lets it out so cheaply. I asked the woman at the Realty Management company but she didn’t know. All she could tell me was that the arrangements had been made through the owner’s lawyer.”

“Well, that all sounds fine and dandy.” Jordan’s lips thinned. “But ‘there’s many a slip ’twixt the cup and the lip’! And I see one little obstacle in your way.”

A frown crinkled her creamy skin into a neat little V between her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“Sit down,” he said, “and drink your coffee before it gets cold. I’m going up to have my shower. When I come back down again…I have something to tell you.”

Mallory stared after him as he left the kitchen. What on earth did he mean: an obstacle? It had sounded ominous, yet she had everything under control…didn’t she? The house was hers for at least the next eleven months, and Matthew would be hers forever—his uncle had made it more than plain that he had no interest in the child.

She sat down and drank her coffee. She usually loved that first kick of it the morning, but today it had no effect.

She couldn’t shake a dreadful feeling of foreboding.

She was still trying, without success, to figure out what Jordan Caine could possibly be going to tell her, when she heard the sound of a vehicle chugging up the drive.

Getting up, she looked out the window, over the garden fence, and saw a truck parking behind the Lexus. On the panel, it said AB Movers, the company she’d hired to cart her belongings from Seattle.

Well, at least, she reflected dryly as she hurried to open the front door, something was going according to plan!

CHAPTER TWO

JORDAN HALTED abruptly on the landing. When he’d come upstairs earlier, the front hall had been empty except for a D-shaped phone table and a spindly chair beside it. Now it was crammed with boxes and furniture and all sorts of other paraphernalia…and in the midst of the chaos stood Mallory.

“What the devil’s going on?” he called down.

She looked up. “My things have arrived from Seattle.”

Her things? Dammit, this was an added complication and one he didn’t need. He fought to contain his intense frustration as he glowered at the cardboard boxes…and the several bookcases, the chairs, the pine desk…an oil painting, a dozen potted plants, a set of wicker furniture—

Two men in beige overalls appeared in the doorway, their name tags proclaiming them to be Archie and Rock. Archie and Rock were carrying a teal-blue sofa.