The Pregnancy Plan

Will they…?

Won’t they…?

Can they…?

The possibility of parenthood: for some couples it’s a seemingly impossible dream.

For others, it’s an unexpected surprise….

Or perhaps it’s a planned pregnancy that brings a husband and wife closer together…or turns their marriage upside down?

One thing is for sure, life will never be the same when they find themselves having a baby…maybe!

This emotionally compelling miniseries from Harlequin Romance® will warm your heart and bring a tear to your eye….

Their Doorstep Baby (#3718)

by Barbara Hannay

Grace Green grew up in Scotland but later emigrated 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®

3622—THE BABY PROJECT

3658—TWINS INCLUDED!

3706—THE NANNY’S SECRET*

The Pregnancy Plan

Grace Green

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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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

SHE came to him in the garden, on a morning gray with fog.

“The decision is yours, darling.” Tears shimmered in her eyes. “But you must make it soon.” Her voice caught. “This waiting…it’s breaking my heart…”

Dermid ached to hold her, to comfort her, but even as he reached for her, she began to slip away.

“Wait!” he called, panicking. “Alice, wait!”

But she was already disappearing into the mist, the loose sleeves of her cloud-white dress billowing out behind her like angel wings floating her heavenward.

“Alice!” he cried again and tried to follow her, but the mist snaked wet tendrils around him, binding him—

“Dad!” A shake on his arm, a child’s low urgent voice. “Dad!”

He groaned, and jerked from his nightmare, he came slowly, blearily…gratefully…awake.

Jack stood by the bed, in his unironed flannel pyjamas, his brown hair tufted, his hazel eyes anxious—far too anxious, Dermid thought with a pang of guilt—for a boy who had yet to celebrate his fifth birthday.

Leaning up on one elbow, clearing the rust of sleep from his throat, he said, “Sorry, son. Did I wake you?”

“You were shouting really loud. Was it bad?”

“It’s been worse.”

“But the same old nightmare?”

“Yup, same old one. And no, don’t ask, I’m not going to tell you what it’s about. Someday I will, when you’re old enough to handle it.” Dermid swung his long legs over the edge of the bed. “But right now—”

“But right now it would give me nightmares, too.”

“You got it.”

Dermid stood, and setting a firm hand on his son’s shoulders, walked him to the window. “Now enough about nightmares. Will you just look at that morning out there?” The sun, an explosion of fire atop Vancouver Island’s snowcapped Mountain Range, promised an unusually dazzling late-May day. “It’s going to be a scorcher.”

“Too bad we have to spend half of it on the ferry!”

“Don’t you want to go over to the Lower Mainland to see your new cousin being christened?”

“I’d rather stay here on the ranch and help Arthur look after the animals.”

“I’m not much of a party man myself, son, but we have to make the effort when it comes to family occasions.”

They weren’t really his family, only by marriage. They were Alice’s family. But he was fond of them all. Except for Lacey. Lacey left him cold…because Lacey, herself, was cold. Superficial. Useless. Oh, she was decorative, he wasn’t denying that, but useless. A pretty ornament. That was all. A bauble. She was Alice’s sister, but as unlike Alice as two women could have been.

Alice. He’d wanted to shut himself away from the outside world after she died, but for Jack’s sake he couldn’t. And for Jack’s sake, he’d remained in close contact with his in-laws these past three years, although being with them only refreshed his grief and made it more difficult to put the past behind him. Not that he had a hope in hell of putting the past behind him until he found the courage to end the situation that was bedeviling him—

“Dad, do we have to go?”

“Yeah.” Dermid stared out over the gardens below—Alice’s gardens, once lovingly cared for as he himself had been and now—like himself!—sadly abandoned. “I need to talk to your uncle Jordan about something.”

“Couldn’t you do that over the phone?”

Dermid lifted his gaze beyond the gardens, to the pastures beyond. Over seventy acres, home to his herd of alpacas and llamas. “No, this is something really important, something I have to discuss face-to-face.”

“You make it sound like a matter of life or death!”

But Jack had lost interest in the conversation as a lanky figure loped into view from the main barn.

“There’s Arthur, I’m gonna get dressed and go help him muck out the shelters.”

As Jack dashed away, his earlier comment echoed in Dermid’s head and he felt a wave of despair.

Little did his son know how accurately he had assessed the situation, for the dilemma facing him truly was a matter of life or death.

And the decision he had to make—the one that had been giving him nightmares now for so very many months—was surely the cruelest that any man could ever have to face.

“Lacey, thank goodness you’re here!”

Lacey Maxwell switched off the engine of her silver convertible. Taking the key from the ignition, she looked questioningly at her sister-in-law Felicity who had run down Deerhaven’s front steps and was hurrying to the car.

Felicity came to a breathless stop just as Lacey was about to drop her keys into her gray leather bag.

“Don’t put those away, Lace!”

“No?” Lacey paused, her slender crimson-tipped fingers splayed over the bag.

“I need to ask you a favor. Dermid called from the ferry a while ago to say there had been a long delay at Departure Bay so to save time he’d left the car at Nanaimo and he and Jack were on their way over as foot passengers. Jordan said he’d pick him up at Horseshoe Bay but he’s been detained at the office so—”

“So you want me to do the honors.”

“Would you, Lacey? I’d go myself, but it’s time for the baby’s feed and—”

“Say no more. It’ll be my pleasure.”

“You’re a godsend!” Flicking back her blond braid, Felicity glanced at her watch. “If you leave right now, you’ll be there just as the ferry docks.”

Lacey slipped her key into the ignition. “This is going to be fun. It’ll make the laird beholden to me and he won’t like that one little bit!”

“Lacey…”

“Mmm?” Lacey’s smile was mischievous.

“Don’t be too hard on him, will you?”

“I’ll try my best, but he really does bring out the worst in me! Male chauvinists always do, and he’s the most flagrant offender I’ve ever come across.”

Felicity chuckled, a melodious infectious sound that made Lacey chuckle, too.

And as she spun her convertible away down the driveway, she thought—as she so often did—how lucky her brother Jordan was to have found such a perfect mate.

His first marriage had been a disaster. His wife Marla had been a hard and selfish woman who had for many years been unfaithful to him. After her death, Jordan had met and fallen deeply in love with Felicity, who had not only been his daughter Mandy’s caregiver since infancy, she’d been more of a mother to Mandy than Marla had ever been. And after their marriage, Felicity had gone on to produce two darling boys, Todd and Andrew, and a baby girl, Verity, who was going to be the star of today’s christening party.

It was going to be a lovely family get-together, Lacey mused as she raced the car along the Sea to Sky Highway toward the ferry terminal at Horseshoe Bay; the only fly in the ointment being, of course, Dermid Andrew McTaggart.

And of course he wasn’t really family. Only by marriage. His family—his parents and two brothers and a slew of other relatives—lived in Scotland. And as far as Lacey was concerned, that was where he should have stayed, with the rest of his clan!

He had never liked her.

She had been prepared to like him, as she’d have been prepared to like any man her sister had loved because she herself had adored Alice. But the blinkered Scot hadn’t given her a chance. As far as he was concerned, models were vain empty creatures and he had no time for them.

And she certainly hadn’t been about to grovel for his approval. She was neither vain nor empty but she had more than her fair share of pride. And if there was ever to be an end to the cold war between her and Dermid McTaggart, he would have to make the first move.

And the earth, she thought with a dry smile, was more likely to move first!

“I thought Uncle Jordan was going to meet us.” Jack looked around anxiously. “Where is he?”

The village of Horseshoe Bay on this blistering hot day was jammed with tourists, buses, cabs, vehicles of all sorts. Holidaymakers thronged the sidewalks, window-shopping—looking at jade jewelry, carved totem poles, Vancouver sweatshirts. Others licked ice-cream cones and wandered aimlessly, enjoying the sea breeze and the spectacular view—the yachts bobbing in the marina; the vast white B.C. Ferry; the shimmering blue ocean.

“Your uncle’s probably driving around trying to find a parking spot. We’d best stand right here, and wait for him. He’ll—”

“Hello, Dermid.”

The voice came from behind him, but he’d have recognized it anywhere. Light, feminine, flippant. Challenging.

He turned, and there she was. His sparring partner. Stunning as ever, in a crisp white shirt and icy-blue linen slacks. And looking, amid the throng of perspiring sun-baked tourists, as cool as an iced drink in the desert.

“Lacey.” His tone was faintly mocking. “Are you our chauffeur?”

“Jordan sends his apologies, he couldn’t get away.” She shifted her attention to Jack, who was gazing up at her with the expression of a lovesick swain. “Jack, it’s great to see you.”

“You, too, Aunt Lacey!”

“I’ve got something for you, darling. A present. I got it in France when I was there last week…”

Dermid felt a sense of irritation as he watched them chat.

She had a way with men, no doubt about it. And with boys. She never talked down to Jack, never had; she always treated him like an adult. And he, poor sod, had been mad about her from the time his newborn eyes could focus, and he could see that sheet of ink-black hair, those green cat-eyes and that impossibly flawless creamy skin. Soon the poor kid would be old enough to notice the endless legs, the seductive walk, the sexy rear end, the—

“Well, Dermid, shall we go?” She swung away toward the street, the movement sending a drift of her perfume into his space. To follow her, he had to walk through the mingled scent of gardenia petals and enough musk to make a red-blooded male howl at the moon!

“I’m parked over here.” With self-assurance in every elegant step, she led the way into the parking lot. And stopped by her silver convertible, which had the top down.

“Your car is so cool, Aunt Lacey!” Jack’s eyes glowed with excitement. “Can I sit in front with you?”

“I don’t see why not,” she said gaily. “If your father doesn’t mind?”

“Do you, Dad?”

“No,” he growled.

And within seconds they were on their way out of the parking lot and on their way up to the high-way…the driver’s hair flying out behind her with a life of its own.

She and Jack talked to each other nonstop. Occasionally she’d call over her shoulder, “Are you okay back there?” and he’d answer with a curt “Yes!”

Once he caught a glimpse of her in the rearview mirror, looking at him. For just a second, their eyes locked, before she quickly fixed hers on the road again; but in that fleeting exchange he thought he detected not only vulnerability, but a look of wistful wisdom.

And he knew only too well that he must have been mistaken, for Lacey Maxwell was neither vulnerable nor wistful nor wise.

What she was, was a beautiful bore.

But she’d done him a favor by coming to pick him up…and although given a choice he’d rather have walked, he was now beholden to her.

And the sooner he paid that debt, the happier he’d be.

So when they approached the next exit, he leaned forward and yelled, into the streaming ribbons of her black hair, “Could you stop by at the Caulfeild mall?”

She nodded. And putting out her signal, drove onto the exit ramp.

The shopping center was just minutes from the highway, and as soon as she’d parked, he jumped out.

“I’ll be right back.”

He’d intended buying flowers, but at the last moment he changed his mind and bought a box of Belgian chocolates instead. The woman could do with a bit of beef on her!

When he walked back toward the car, he could see she and Jack were talking. They didn’t notice him approach, but he could hear Jack’s eager voice from twenty feet away.

“…and me and my dad aren’t big on family parties, and I told him I’d have rather stayed home and mucked about on the ranch than come over here and act gaga over some baby—”

He broke off as he noticed his father.

“Oh, hi, Dad. I was just telling Aunt Lacey that—”

“Yeah, I heard.”

Lacey looked up at him, her expression amused. “Your son and I are on the same wavelength when it comes to babies—we agree they’re no fun to be around till they’re toilet-trained and able to have a decent conversation.”

“Aunt Lacey thinks they’re messy and noisy and need attention 24-7…24-7, Dad. Aunt Lacey says that means twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”

“In other words, a full-time job.” Dermid got into the back seat. And added, as Lacey turned around in her seat to look at him, “A bit more exhausting, I’d imagine, and certainly more fulfilling, than spending an hour or two, here or there, leaning against a coconut palm and getting your picture taken for some glossy magazine! How would you describe your job, Lacey? Maybe a 3-2?”

Her green eyes, which had been twinkling with laughter, now clouded over. And he got the sense that he’d doused whatever joy she’d been feeling in the day.

Lips compressed, she turned from him, flicked the key in the ignition, and set the car in motion.

Jack appeared to have noticed the clashing vibrations, for he sank, obviously subdued, back in his seat.

And neither he, nor his aunt, spoke one more word to him or to each other for the rest of the journey.

Deerhaven, the Maxwell’s five-bedroom home, stood high on the slopes of West Vancouver. With a panoramic view of the ocean, it sat in parklike grounds, with a swimming pool, a white-painted cabana, and a play area for the children.

Lacey had her own condo a few minutes away, but every chance she got, she visited Deerhaven. Over the years, Felicity had become her closest friend…but there was one secret Lacey kept from Felicity, and it concerned Dermid.

Felicity thought highly of her brother-in-law, and both she and Jordan considered the ongoing thrust-and-parry between him and Lacey to be harmless. What neither of them knew was that in recent months, Dermid’s put-downs had become more cutting.

And Lacey was afraid that if she wasn’t careful she’d let her guard down and he’d see that he was drawing blood.

Today’s snide comment had been particularly hurtful.

“How would you describe your job, Lacey? Maybe 3-2?”

At his sarcastic comment, all her joy in the day had faded. And she’d felt a surge of resentment. He considered a model’s life to be one of glamour and ease; little did he know that sometimes she was so exhausted she almost fell apart. Not only was she constantly traveling, the shoots themselves were extremely stressful, as were the fashion shows in Milan, Paris, London…

Stifling a sigh, she pushed all her negative thoughts aside as she drew her car to a halt in front of Deerhaven. She was not going to let Dermid’s unpleasant jabs dampen her mood; she had planned to have a good time at today’s party and that was exactly what she was going to do.

Jack opened his seat belt buckle. “Dad, can I go around the back and see if my cousins are out there?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

He and Lacey walked toward the front door together. When they reached the stoop, he turned and looked out over the ocean.

“Some view,” he murmured, almost to himself.

Lacey followed his gaze, and saw that seven freighters sat waiting to be loaded with grain, and dozens of yachts dotted the waters, while a few speedboats raced around.

“Yes, it’s fabulous.”

Lacey glanced up at him, and as she did, she could—as always—easily see why her sister had fallen in love with him. With his dark auburn hair, rugged features, and sexy mouth, Dermid McTaggart really was a very attractive man.

It was too bad he didn’t have a personality to match!

Lacey had her own key to Deerhaven, and taking it out, she unlocked the door. He followed her into the foyer.

From upstairs came the fretty cry of a baby.

Lacey moved over to the foot of the stairs. “Fliss, we’re here!”

A few seconds later, Felicity appeared on the landing. She beamed down at them.

“Hi, Dermid, delighted you could make it. Where’s Jack?”

“He went round the back to look for his cousins.”

“Good, they’re playing there with Shauna—my baby-sitter from next door. Jordan called, he’s on his way home. I’m just going to put Verity down for a nap and we’ll have a drink before lunch. We’ve loads of time, the christening’s not till two-thirty.”

“Anything I can do to help?” Lacey asked.

“You’re such a whizz at setting the table, would you mind…?”

“Not at all.”

“And Dermid, could you take Andrew’s high chair from the kitchen and set it up in the dining room?”

“Sure.”

As Felicity went back to the nursery, Dermid ambled off and Lacey went into the dining room.

She set the table, using Felicity’s best linen and silver and crystal, and then taking white linen napkins from the drawer, she fashioned them into intricate swans and set them in the glasses by each place mat, smiling to herself as she stood back to admire her handiwork.

She detested housecleaning and she couldn’t cook but there was no denying she could set a mean table.

Dermid, on the other hand, hadn’t even managed to bring through the high chair!

As she made her way to the kitchen to take him to task, she heard Jordan’s voice.

“…yes of course we can talk about it,” he was saying.

“Later,” Dermid said. “After the party’s over. It’s private, Jordan, and personal. A family matter.”

“But if it has to do with Alice, as you said, shouldn’t Lacey be involved, too?”

“No!” Dermid’s tone was sharp. “She’s the last person whose input I’d want on this. Jordan, I’ve struggled with this situation for far too long and I have to make a decision. At least, I’ve made my decision, and what I need from you is support—”

Lacey became aware of footsteps running down the stairs. And realizing, with dismay, that she’d been eavesdropping, she hurried back to the foyer and arrived there just as Felicity reached the foot of the stairs.

“You’ve set the table?” her sister-in-law asked.

“Mmm. Come along and see my swans!”

But though she managed to put on a cheerful face, Lacey felt edgy and upset.

What was going on in her brother-in-law’s life that required him to ask Jordan for support?

It was clear he didn’t want her to know anything about it. And that made her furious. She was a Maxwell, too, and if it was a family matter concerning Alice, then Dermid McTaggart had no business trying to shut her out!

One way or another, she promised herself, she would get to the bottom of it!

CHAPTER TWO

THE christening took place outdoors at Deerhaven, the sunken rose garden made a perfect setting and Jordan and Felicity looked blissfully happy.

“I think,” the minister said later in the afternoon, before he left, “that everything went off rather well.” His eyes twinkled. “Baby Verity is blessed with a remarkable pair of lungs.”

Jordan laughed, saying “She may well be a budding opera singer!” as he walked the minister into the house from the patio, where the adults had enjoyed champagne and tea and a slice of Felicity’s delicious homemade white-chocolate christening cake after the ceremony.

Felicity had gone upstairs to put the baby down for a nap and the other children were having a picnic in the play area…which left Dermid alone on the patio with Lacey.

He noticed that though she’d taken an active part in the conversation while the minister was present, now she lay back in her cushioned lounger and closed her eyes.

Shutting him out.

And he could hardly blame her. Ever since she’d picked him up at the ferry, some perverse impulse had driven him to snipe at her. That comment he’d made, about her job being a “3-2” had been totally uncalled for. So what if she lived an easy glamorous life, one that was shallow and useless? Just because he despised that kind of nonproductive existence was no excuse for taking potshots at her. But what had impelled him into goading her further today had been the fact that she hadn’t responded with her usual acerbity. And what satisfaction was there in needling someone who refused to be needled!

She looked, right now, totally oblivious to him. She also looked as if she were posing for some fashion spread. Elegance personified.

But her silk dress, which she’d changed into before the ceremony—black with a pattern of tiny white flowers—probably cost more than one of his prize alpacas!

“I can see,” she drawled, “by the derisive curl of your lip, that you’re thinking a nasty thought about me.”

She’d barely raised her eyelids but he could detect a challenging glitter from beneath the coal-dark lashes.

She tilted her head, provocatively. “Go ahead,” she said. “Spit it out. It can’t be good for you, to keep all that poison bubbling inside.”