Protecting Their Baby

“In the morning or evening?” Lisa asked.

“Morning.”

“Then we shouldn’t have a problem sharing. I bathe at night.”

“With bubble bath and scented candles, I’ll bet.” Rex suspected that she had fancy bottles everywhere.

“Soaking in the tub relaxes me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s actually kind of sexy.”

“Oh.” Lisa angled her head, making her perfectly coiffed bob tilt to one side. “Then thank you, I guess.”

“Sure.”

Neither of them said anything after that, and the room seemed to shrink even more. He could actually feel them breathing the same air. She was almost close enough to kiss.

Dear Reader,

I would like to thank all of you who take the time to send fan letters to your favorite authors.

Over the years, I’ve received some very special fan letters. In fact, I received an amazing e-mail today. A reader from England wrote to tell me about a British-based book club that read the 2008 Mills and Boon release of Always Look Twice (my 2005 Silhouette Bombshell). According to the letter, they all believe that “Agent West is the greatest hero in the history of fiction,” and some of the book club members may be working on an Agent West fan site.

I’m honored and awed that one of my heroes stirred this kind of reaction! It’s great timing, too, because Agent West plays a minor role in Protecting Their Baby. He tends to crop up now and then, reappearing as the FBI guy that he is.

And speaking of heroes, Rex Sixkiller, the male protagonist in Protecting Their Baby, was inspired by a reader of Cherokee descent who offered to let me borrow the Sixkiller name. I kept the name in the back of my mind, waiting for the right character to embody it.

That said, I love hearing from my readers. You are the reason I write.

Best,

Sheri WhiteFeather

www.millsandboon.co.uk

is a bestselling author who has won numerous awards, including readers’ and reviewer’s choice honors. She writes a variety of romance novels for Silhouette. She has become known for incorporating Native American elements into her stories. She has two grown children who are tribally enrolled members of the Muscogee Creek Nation.

Sheri is of Italian-American descent. Her great-grandparents immigrated to the United States from Italy through Ellis Island, originating from Castel di Sangro and Sicily. She lives in California and enjoys ethnic dining, shopping in vintage stores and going to art galleries and museums. Sheri loves to hear from her readers. Visit her Web site at www.SheriWhiteFeather.com.

To Lisa, my sister’s dance teacher in Oregon—

here’s to hot guys and red high heels!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

I’m screwed, Rex Sixkiller thought.

He should have known that Lisa Gordon was going to spell trouble. He’d pegged her as a good girl from the start. Then again, she had gotten dirty that night.

Yeah, with the help of extra-dirty martinis.

He stared at Lisa. She was seated across from him in his L.A. office, and he’d never been so scared in all in his thirty-six years. Yes, him. A decorated Desert Storm veteran, a licensed private investigator and a Warrior Society activist.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

She responded with a jerky nod. She looked like the good girl she was, with a blond bob and innocent blue eyes. Her long, lean, sinful body was another matter. Of course she was a dance instructor who owned her own studio, so her knockout figure was well earned. She looked the same as the night he’d met her at the bar.

She twisted her hands on her lap. “I did one of those home tests, and then I saw a doctor to confirm the results.” Another twist. Another nervous reaction.

He wished they were back at the bar. He could use a stiff belt about now. “So much for the protection, huh?”

She went clinical. “The doctor said that if a condom is used correctly, the chance of becoming pregnant is less than three percent. If used incorrectly, a twelve percent chance occurs.” Her breath hitched. “Maybe we did something wrong.”

He shook his head. He never got sloppy with a rubber, not even after a couple of drinks. Besides, Lisa had been tipsy that night, not him. “The condom probably had a defect we weren’t aware of.”

A baby-making leak, he thought. How else could his little swimmers have gotten through?

In the silence, an uncomfortable connection passed between them, a reminder of their one-night stand, of sizzling sex and an awkward morning after. In the light of day, it had become apparent they had absolutely nothing in common. He remembered how they’d politely exchanged phone numbers, with no intention of ever calling each other.

And now here she was, six weeks later, pregnant with his child.

“Are you planning to keep it?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer. Why else would she approach the father? A practical stranger? An abortion would be simpler without him.

“Yes, I’m going to have this baby.” To emphasize her point, she placed a protective hand over her still-flat stomach. Then she said, “But I did consider adoption.”