âI want you, Erin. Tell me to stop now and I will. Or tell me you want me, too.â
âI want you, Sam,â she said. âBut I donât know what you want out of this.â
He knew exactly what she meant. They were each so emotionally raw in their own ways.
âI donât know, either,â he admitted. âBut I know Iâve felt alone and empty for too long. I think you know how that feels. I think we can make that emptiness go away, for a while, together. We deserve that, donât we?â
âAnd in the morning?â she asked. âWhat then?â
âI wonât think any less of you, Erin. I havenât been able to get you out of my mind since we kissed last week. I know you felt something then, just as I did. You even said it was what was right for us at the time. And so is this.â
New-Zealand-born, to Dutch immigrant parents, YVONNE LINDSAY became an avid romance reader at the age of thirteen. Now, married to her âblind dateâ, and with two fabulous children, she remains a firm believer in the power of romance. Yvonne feels privileged to be able to bring to her readers the stories of her heart. In her spare time, when not writing, she can be found with her nose firmly in a book, reliving the power of love in all walks of life.
She can be contacted via her website: www.yvonnelindsay.com
Recent titles by the same author:
A FORBIDDEN AFFAIR
THE WAYWARD SON
THE PREGNANCY CONTRACT
Did you know these are also available as eBooks?Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
âWhat are you going to do?â
Erin looked from the worried face of her friend to the letter in her hand and shook her head. âI donât know what I can do.â
âYou have to find out more. At least then youâll be better informed if you have to fight it,â Sasha said vehemently. âWhat did that letter the other day say? That someone had come forward to say mistakes had been made at the fertility clinic? And with nothing to back up their claims? Seriously, it could just be a disgruntled employee creating trouble.â
âWell,â Erin said, waving the letter sheâd received from a San Francisco law firm out of reach of her baby sonâs grip. âClearly someone believes in it enough to follow it up. And besides, if itâs true, if the tests prove Riley isnât Jamesâs son, do I have any right to fight it?â
âYouâre his mother, arenât you? You have every right under the sun. This Party Aââ Sasha sneered over the moniker ââis no more than a donor.â
âSash, really? Thatâs a bit harsh. The man and his wife were obviously going through the clinic for the same reason James and I were. I think itâs a bit cruel to say heâs no more than a donor.â
Erin pressed a kiss onto Rileyâs head, inhaling his special baby smell and relishing anew the wonder of the life she held on her lap.
Sasha had the grace to look shamefaced. âWell, either way, youâre Rileyâs mother. No one can deny you that, and it means the odds regarding custody are firmly stacked in your favor.â
It was little comfort, Erin thought as she studied the letter again. She hoped to see something, anything, that would give her some recourse to refuse to submit Riley to a DNA test to prove exactly who his father wasâher late husband James or some stranger. She adjusted Riley on her lap as her heart constricted painfully. The whole situation was impossible. Riley had to be Jamesâs son. He just had to be. Their security hinged on it.
Mistakes like what theyâd suggested simply werenât supposed to happen. When she and James had won the IVF lottery, which had taken them from their Lake Tahoe home to San Francisco to complete the procedures that led to baby Rileyâs birth four months ago, theyâd never for one moment thought that the fertility clinic could make such a terrible mistake. Nor had either of them dreamed that the flulike symptoms James had experienced months later masked a bacterial infectionâone that led to the congestive heart failure that had taken his life within two weeks of Rileyâs birth.
She was now left to deal with this all on her own, and the reality of it threatened to overwhelm her completely. The sheet of paper in her hand trembled and she set it down on the well-used kitchen table in front of herâa table that had been used by generations of Connells. A table that could only be used by future generations of Connells, according to the terms of the estateâs trust. Sheâd thought that everything about her home was Rileyâs by right, as Jamesâs son. What if she was wrong? She smoothed the letter onto the worn surface and wished to God sheâd never gone to the post office to collect her mail todayâor ever, for that matter.
Sashaâs hand came to rest on top of hers. âDonât worry, Erin. Rileyâs your son, nothing can change that, no matter who his father is. Write back and request more information before youâll agree to any testing. Nothing in the letter you got from the lawyers acting for the clinic has even been substantiated. Itâs not as if theyâve sent you categorical proof that a mix-up happened at allâand this letter from the lawyers acting for the other guy is couched in terms of a