Second Chance Mom

It’s the reunion she didn’t expect

Rachel Bishop’s reckless past is back to haunt her. Her sister’s death has made her the guardian of a sullen teen and has brought her home to the secrets she’d run from—starting with Matt Johnston. Matt was the good guy who’d cracked her rebel-rousing teenage veneer. Now the handsome high school coach could destroy her hope of peacefully raising Chastity, the baby she secretly gave up to her sister years ago. To protect Matt and their daughter, Rachel must lie to them...but the heart won’t be ignored. If Rachel wants a second chance at family and with Matt, she must take a risk on love.

Matt yanked up the armrest between them and turned in his seat.

“Talk to me, Rachel,” he said. “Like you used to.”

“Can we just go?”

Her ragged breath filled the otherwise silent cab. She needed comfort, and that was all he was offering when he hooked an arm around her shoulders and pulled her body across the seat.

“It’ll be okay. You and Chastity will have each other to lean on.”

She tilted her head up. Worry clouded her brown eyes. “What if I fail her? What do I know about being a mother? Or teenagers? I had all these fantasies about how great we’d get along, but...it’s not going too well.”

“You need to be her parent not her friend. You’ll find your feet. We survivors always do.” Hope-filled eyes met his. And held. His pulse thumped in his ears and his groin. He should push Rachel away, but he couldn’t. Why did she affect him like no other woman?

Only one way to find out.

He pulled her closer. Her lips parted on a gasp a split second before he covered them. Then it happened. That shooting star sensation he hadn’t experienced since Rachel had kissed him fourteen years ago...

Dear Reader,

What would you do if you had a chance for a “do-over” on the biggest regret from your past? Would you be willing to give up the good parts of your present life to erase that one bad decision?

Rachel and Matt’s story is the fruit from my writer’s brain which grew that idea. It led to more questions, such as how could something wrong also be right, and is it ever okay to tell a lie? Writers (especially me!) can spend hours debating issues like this.

Second Chance Mom is one of those stories that’s been slugging it out in my brain for a while. I only wish I’d had more pages! I feel as if I’ve only scraped the surface of Rachel, Matt and Chastity’s story. It will be interesting to hear what you think.

Emilie Rose

Second Chance Mom

Emilie Rose

www.millsandboon.co.uk

USA TODAY bestselling author and two-time RITA® Award finalist EMILIE ROSE lives in North Carolina with her own romance hero. Writing is her third career. She’s managed a medical office and a home day care—neither offered half as much satisfaction as plotting happy endings. Her hobbies include gardening, fishing, cooking and traveling to find her next book setting. Visit her website, emilierose.com, or email her at EmilieRoseAuthor@aol.com.

To my readers: without you,

I could not have lived my dream for 36 books.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

RACHEL BISHOP RETRACED the path to the detention officer’s classroom that she’d taken dozens of times nearly fifteen years ago. Her anxiety level increased with each step, even though she wasn’t the one in trouble. This time.

She’d faced down inner-city thugs, armed militants and deadly diseases: none of which had terrified her as much as the huge responsibility waiting inside room 127.

A second chance at parenthood. Was she up to it?

She had to be. Moments ago she’d signed papers accepting full custody of Chastity. She’d failed the child once before. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—this time.

Her knees locked in front of the closed classroom door. She blotted clammy palms on her pants and endeavored to subdue her rampant nerves. It said a lot about the conforming citizens of Johnstonville that their combination middle and high school only needed one room for the troublemakers. The school had changed little since she’d left. Would prune-faced Miss Gentry still be sitting behind the desk wearing her perpetual scowl?

Time to find out. Rachel pushed the door. It yielded with a sucking whoosh. Through the six-inch gap Rachel saw the old maid wasn’t in the front of the room. Instead, Matt Johnston, the last person she wanted or expected to see, occupied the teacher’s chair. Rachel froze, her automatic fight-or-flight response engaging. Every instinct screamed run. But she couldn’t.

She had loved Matt with all the passion her seventeen-year-old heart could contain, then she’d wronged him unforgivably. She wasn’t ready—would never be ready—to face him.

In seconds, her adrenaline-sharpened focus registered that his hair was darker than the sun-bleached blond she’d run her fingers through. But then his mesmerizing, make-her-forget-her-own-name blue eyes swung her way, and her stomach dropped as if she’d flown into an air pocket.

A roar filled her ears, and dizziness swamped her. She wanted to blame her reaction on jet lag, but her racing pulse said otherwise. It was fear. Not of Matt. But of everything he embodied. He represented her greatest failure. One that had nearly destroyed her. Afraid she’d fold into a heap on the floor, she gripped the door frame tighter and forced air into her constricted chest.

“May I help you?”

His familiar deep voice sent a fresh wave of panic through her. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled to attention. Matt didn’t know. He couldn’t. Her secret was safe. Hope had been the only one who’d known the truth, and her sister would never have told anyone—doing so would have damaged her saintly reputation.

Matt’s politely curious expression turned into annoyance when Rachel didn’t respond. He rose and crossed the room, blocking her entry by gripping the door in one big, familiar hand—one that had touched her intimately and taught her so much about pleasure. His defensive position displayed the added breadth of the chest and shoulders on which she’d once relished resting her cheek. That combined with the golden late-day stubble on his square chin magnified his masculinity and made him far more handsome than the twenty-one-year-old college boy he’d been back then.

But his crisply pressed shirt and pants told her one facet of his personality hadn’t changed. Matt had always been a little too polished and perfect. His neatness had challenged her, and she’d loved mussing his thick, perfectly combed hair and yanking his shirttail from his pants to run her hands over his muscles.

Her fingertips tingled. She fisted her hands and shoved them into her pants pockets to keep them out of trouble. Matt hadn’t been the man for her then. He wasn’t now—never could be. She should have left him alone all those years ago. But she’d been too self-destructive to be smart.

That was then. She’d learned a lot of painful lessons since.

“May I help you?” he repeated in a firmer tone.

“Hello, Matt.” Her voice came out as little more than a whisper. Before she could clear her throat and try again, his eyes narrowed. Then he recoiled in recognition. That stung.

“Rachel?” His gaze flashed over her like wildfire, igniting dormant cells like a match to a dry savanna. When his eyes returned to hers she saw his surprise and understood it.

He might look the same—only better—but she bore little resemblance to the mischief-making teen she’d been. Her loose cotton shirt and wrinkled khakis were a far cry from the formfitting clothing she’d once worn to entice him, and these days she adorned her face with nothing more than sunscreen.

She touched a hand to her hair. Most of it was still in the haphazard knot she’d twisted it into before beginning her exhausting trek, but bits and pieces had escaped. After four different airports and three time zones, she probably looked a mess. A touch of her old vanity made her wish she’d spruced up before entering the building.

“Yeah. Long time no see.” Her feigned nonchalance sounded believable. To her anyway. She leaned to look past him and into the classroom where the office secretary had said Rachel’s dau—niece was supposed to be, but the solid block that was Matt obscured her view. She heard a buzz of whispers. Was Chastity’s one of them? Excitement fizzed through Rachel’s veins.

Distrust flickered in Matt’s eyes. Could she blame him? No. She’d earned it.

“We’ll talk outside.” He turned to the class. “Get back to work on those essays.” He moved forward, forcing Rachel to retreat, then he closed the door between them and the students.

His scowl could scare small children. “It’s about time you showed up.”

“I came as soon as I could.”

“Hope’s funeral was weeks ago.” Anger and condemnation tinged his quiet words and flattened those sexy lips.

Irritation washed over her. Instead of asking why she’d missed her only sibling’s funeral, Matt seemed to be passing judgment on her like everyone else in this unforgiving town had always done. No one had ever bothered to ask why Rachel had rebelled. They’d only condemned her for it. At one time Matt had been the exception, but now he seemed to have boarded the censure train with everyone else.

Reining in her temper, she glanced down the hall and fought for calm. The eerie silence of a school after hours surrounded them. The corridor seemed private and intimate. Fertile ground for trouble.

She met Matt’s disapproving gaze but decided not to waste her breath with explanations. “I’m here now. Is Chastity in there?”

“Yes. She’s striking out at everyone who tries to help with her grief and stirring up all kinds of trouble. Her schoolwork and behavior have suffered.”

“And the answer to her pain is to send her to detention?”

Matt’s lips curled downward. “The staff has been as helpful and patient as possible, but she cussed out a substitute teacher. That left us with no options except detention or expulsion.”

“Who’d she curse at? And what unfeeling sonofabitch would punish a grieving kid?”

His frown deepened grooves beside his mouth—grooves he hadn’t had when she’d kissed every inch of his face. “Me. I cut her some slack, but I can’t allow her to undermine my authority with my students.” His eyes narrowed. “Acting out to get attention is something you should understand all too well. It’s no surprise you’d make excuses for her. Or that you’d show up here days late.”

Guilt over her past behavior heated her chest, neck and cheeks, yet chilled her at the same time. She hugged her middle. Only Matt had understood that her rebellion had been a cry for her parents’ attention, but they’d been too busy saving the world to help one confused teenager. Rachel would have given anything to have them pay half as much attention to her as they had to strangers. Instead, they’d dumped her on her older sister. But Hope had been no substitute for her mother or her father.

Rachel squashed the memories. “I was in a flood-ravaged village in a third world country with minimal communication and access to the outside. I didn’t get the message about Hope until six days after her...passing. I came as soon as I could.”

She didn’t bother telling him that she’d had to wait for a rare supply flight because the countryside surrounding them had been controlled by rebels, and crossing by land was too dangerous. He wouldn’t want to hear it. Wouldn’t care.

Matt folded his arms across his impressive chest and narrowed his eyes. “Really.”

His skepticism sobered her. Matt had known her when deceiving people had been her MO.

“I was working, Matt.” She hated defending herself. There hadn’t been a need to do so since she’d left this narrow-minded town. Her dedication and the quality of her work spoke for itself. “I faxed Hope’s lawyer my power of attorney, so she wouldn’t have to lie in the morgue until I could get here.”

She’d seen too many morgues. The idea of her sister lying in one had been unbearable.

Matt’s expression hardened. “How considerate of you. Chastity needed you sooner. She’s struggling and afraid.”

That made two of them. “I’m here for her now. I’ll take her back home with me, and we’ll...we’ll get through this together.”

She had no idea how she’d fit a teenager into her life. She always threw herself into her work, exhausting herself each day so she could sleep at night. Suppressing one’s needs was a common fault in her profession, and she was as guilty of it as most. Maybe more so since she had a past she wished she could forget.

A gaggle of chattering cheerleaders rounded the corner. They snapped to attention when they spotted Matt, then eyed him as they sashayed past, but he seemed blind to their flirtatious smiles.

Rachel watched them, her heart heavy with the unjustness of life. That old song was right. The good were the only ones who died young. When Rachel had irritated her parents to the point they could barely stand the sight of her, Hope had generously offered Rachel a home so she could attend normal American school for her senior year. Rachel had jumped at the chance to escape the vagabond life of near poverty in which she’d lived in the mission villages. Hope had bailed Rachel out of countless disasters, culminating in relocating to anonymous Atlanta to help Rachel hide the shameful consequences of a teenage pregnancy. Hope had taken her kindness even further by adopting Rachel’s daughter when Rachel had voiced her fears of relinquishing her baby girl to strangers.

And then there were their missionary parents who’d devoted their lives to bringing goodness and religion to the world. They’d died for their cause in some dirty village because they lacked basic medical care. If it hadn’t been for Hope, Rachel would have died with them.

Of all the good people in her family, only she, the bad seed, lived on, and she was hardly qualified to raise an impressionable teen. But from the moment she’d looked into the eyes of her newborn baby girl she’d sworn to do whatever was best for the child—no matter the personal costs. And the cost had been living with the knowledge that she hadn’t been good enough for her own daughter.

The girls in their flipping short skirts disappeared around the corner, and Rachel’s gaze returned to Matt, only to find him observing her with frowning intensity. He rubbed a finger across his upper lip, drawing her attention to his mouth and flooding her with memories that did crazy things to her equilibrium. She jerked her gaze back to his. Remembering his kisses, how he’d listened and how special he’d made her feel, would get her nowhere good.

“Chastity’s had enough disruption in her life. There’s only five weeks left before summer break. Let her finish out the school year here. She just lost her mother. Yanking her away from her friends, home and support network would be too traumatic. Or did you even consider her welfare?”

The unjustness of his question hit Rachel like a hard slap. Rachel had always, always put Chastity’s well-being first. But the thought of staying in judgmental Johnstonville and having to prove to these people that she wasn’t the selfish brat she’d once been was unthinkable.

But the biggest risk in staying was having Matt uncover the truth or having Chastity tainted by her birth mother’s reputation if others discovered her secret. Both possibilities flat-out terrified her. The longer she lingered here, the greater the probability of discovery and disaster.

Sweat trickled down her spine. “We can’t stay.”

“It’s better for Chastity to come to terms with her mother’s death here in familiar surroundings. Give her a chance to find her feet and say her goodbyes.”

“Matt, I have to get back to my job.”

“What about Chastity? As much as you hated your childhood, are you going to subject her to the same nomadic lifestyle by hauling her all over the globe and back to...wherever you were?”

Never. “That was a one-time assignment. I live and work in Atlanta. She’s always loved it there.”

“Who’ll watch her when you’re at work? She’s too old for day care. Are you going to leave her home alone when she’s emotionally vulnerable? That’s a recipe for disaster.”

Rachel’s stomach sank. She worked two to three twenty-four hour shifts per week, then volunteered at the local clinic or picked up an eight-hour shift at the hospital on her days off. She was rarely at home. But leaving a teen home alone definitely wasn’t an option—especially not in her neighborhood. What would she do with Chastity? Rachel had chosen to live in the inner city and help those who didn’t get even basic medical care. Her volunteer work within the community bought her protection, but she couldn’t guarantee it would extend to Chastity. Her apartment was no place for a young girl. She’d never willingly expose Chastity to the seamier side of life that she experienced daily or send her to the tough school near the apartment. As much as Rachel hated to leave her neighbors, she’d have to move.

“I haven’t hammered out all the details.”

“You need a plan before you pack her up and move.”

True. Instantly becoming a mother to the child she’d given birth to thirteen years ago terrified her—probably more now than it had then when she’d been less equipped but naively eager to try. Back then Hope had convinced her that a baby needed a parent who was stable and reliable. Rachel hadn’t been either.

Could she be now?

Yes, damn it. Yes. She didn’t know how, but she would be.

“Cut me some slack. I just lost my sister. I haven’t had time to think. By the time I’ve packed up Hope’s house and put it on the market, I’ll have a plan for Chastity.”

Her thoughts reeled over the long to-do list. Dealing with Hope’s estate was only the tip of the iceberg, according to the lawyer she’d met with before coming to school.

Matt’s concern for Chastity’s welfare sounded genuine, even though he had no idea the girl shared his DNA. That only confirmed what Hope had said all those years ago—that Matt was too good for Rachel. Back then he’d been a star quarterback with a future in the NFL after college. Rachel had been self-destructive and in trouble more often than not. She and a baby would have held him back.

Staring into his disapproving face, she truly believed she’d done the right thing when she’d severed the connection between the all-American boy and the black sheep of the Bishop family. No matter how many second thoughts she’d had, neither Matt nor Chastity had deserved being tied to the self-centered twit she’d been back then. Corrupting a truly good person, as her parents had reminded her often, was a sin. Yet no matter how hard Rachel worked to make amends for her mistakes, she could never change the fact that she’d robbed Matt and his wonderful family of the opportunity to know his child.

Did he have others? She surreptitiously glanced at his left hand. No ring. But that didn’t mean anything. And neither did the relief coursing through her. His marital status meant nothing to her. Nothing.

“Does Chastity have any family on her father’s side? We wanted to notify them but couldn’t find a name or number in Hope’s paperwork.”

Matt’s question jerked her back to the present with heart-thumping alarm. Her otherwise virtuous sister had lied to cover Rachel’s mistake, and Rachel didn’t know all the details of the story Hope had concocted. Best to say as little as possible.

“No.”

“You’re all she has?”

“Yes. My parents died before Chastity was born.” Losing them and relinquishing her baby in the same year had seemed just punishment for her misdeeds. She was alone in the world now, except for the daughter she couldn’t rightfully claim. Grief blossomed, but she crushed the bud.

“I’m sorry about your folks.”

She’d been a total disappointment to them. “Thanks.”

The door whooshed open a sliver and a dark-haired girl’s overly made-up face appeared in the gap. Recognition hit Rachel with the force of a tsunami. Shock followed. Chastity had grown up. The round-faced child Rachel had known was gone, replaced by a young woman with heavily painted brown eyes and overly teased hair.

“Aunt Rachel?”

Chastity’s sullen face resembled the one Rachel had seen in her own mirror when she’d been a student here. The haunted look in the girl’s eyes tore at Rachel’s heart. Empathy and love swelled within her. Her mouth dried. Nodding, she devoured the sight of the lanky teenager squeezing past Matt.

“Hello, Chastity.” She opened her arms.

Chastity hesitated, and it felt as if an elephant settled on Rachel’s chest. She bit her lip to stymie the sob building inside her. Then the girl launched forward. The impact of her body against Rachel’s nearly knocked her over. Rachel hugged her. It felt so good to hold her again. It had been so long. Five years too long. She squeezed tighter, never wanted to let go. She inhaled a shaky breath and choked on heavy perfume. That brought a smile to her lips. She and Chastity had so much in common.

It had been the hugs Rachel had missed the most since Hope had ended their visits. The unconditional love had been a close second. Chastity had actually loved her when it had seemed no one else did. Happy tears burned paths down her cheeks. She rocked gently and stroked Chastity’s tangled hair.

Chastity jerked away abruptly, swiping her eyes and smearing blue mascara across her cheekbones. She sniffed and tried to look cool, as if she hadn’t nearly broken Rachel’s ribs or soaked her shirt. “Glad you came.”

“Me, too.” Rachel had to force the words past her constricted throat.

“I didn’t think you would. I would’ve been okay if you hadn’t.” Chastity’s voice wobbled, and her chin tipped up in false bravado. She wore an expression that said the world had done her dirty, and she was fully prepared for it to do so again.

Rachel had been that same defensive girl. She dabbed her own cheeks and hoped Matt didn’t notice. “Fat chance of me not coming, kiddo. I’m sorry it took so long to get here. I was out in the wild with unreliable generators and intermittent electricity, radios instead of phones, and no internet.”

Chastity shuddered dramatically. “That’s roughing it.”

Then Rachel realized she now stood eye to eye with the child—one who’d developed hollows in her cheeks and curves in her breasts. The gap-toothed eight-year-old she remembered was on the brink of womanhood.

“Chastity, you’ve grown a foot.”

Chastity grinned. “Yep.” Then she leaned forward. “Thanks for the bras,” she whispered. “Mom said I was too young for one.” She glanced over her shoulder as if to make sure Matt hadn’t overheard.

“You’re welcome.” Those emails had kept Rachel going, and being allowed to order and ship occasional gifts to Chastity had helped her feel connected.