The Billionaire's Borrowed Baby

“Tell me, Hattie. What do you want?”

She lifted her chin. She was tall for a woman, and he could see the shades of chocolate and cognac in her pupils. She licked her lips. Their long separation vanished like mist, and suddenly he was assaulted with a barrage of memories, both good and bad.

The soft, quick kiss he brushed across her cheek surprised them both. He was so close, he could smell cherry lipgloss. Some things never changed. “Hattie?”

She closed her eyes when he kissed her, but her lashes lifted and her cloudy gaze cleared. Astonishment flashed across her expressive features, followed by chagrin and what appeared to be resignation.

After a long, silent pause, she wrinkled her nose and sighed. “I need you to marry me.”

Dear Reader,

I am married to a man who much prefers the mountains to the beach but who also loves Key West! We have made several trips down to the jewel-like islands that make up the tip of Florida, sometimes flying straight in and sometimes landing in Ft. Lauderdale and renting a car to drive down the Keys.

When I began to think of a fun destination that met certain requirements for Luc and Hattie’s unconventional honeymoon, I knew that Key West would be a perfect locale. It has everything—fabulous weather, a colourful, original ambience, loads of history (everything from pirates to Hemingway), and undoubtedly—romance!

Two people who have joined forces for the sake of a child may try fooling themselves into thinking the marriage is in name only. But beneath a tropical moon, surrounded by scented breezes and centuries of swashbuckling adventure, Luc and Hattie can’t resist revisiting the love they once shared.

Happy reading,

Janice

JANICE MAYNARD came to writing early in life. When her short story The Princess and the Robbers won a red ribbon in her primary school arts fair, Janice was hooked. She holds a BA from Emory and Henry College and an MA from East Tennessee State University. In 2002 Janice left a fifteen-year career as an elementary teacher to pursue writing full-time. Her first love is creating sexy, character-driven, contemporary romance. She has written for Kensington and NAL, and now is so very happy to also be part of the Harlequin family—a lifelong dream, by the way!

Janice and her husband live in beautiful east Tennessee in the shadow of the Great Smoky Mountains. She loves to travel and enjoys using those experiences as settings for books.

Hearing from readers is one of the best perks of the job! Visit her website at www.janicemaynard.com or e-mail her at [email protected]. And of course, don’t forget Facebook, www.facebook.com/JaniceMaynardReaderPage. Find her on Twitter @janicemaynard.

The Billionaire’s

Borrowed Baby

Janice Maynard

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For the next generation: Anastasia, Ainsley, Allie,

Sydney, Olivia, Dakota and Samuel Ellis.

It was a hot, beautiful Georgia morning, but all Hattie Parker noticed was the taste of desperation and panic.

“I need to speak to Mr. Cavallo, please. Mr. Luc Cavallo,” she clarified quickly. “It’s urgent.”

The thirtysomething administrative assistant with the ice-blue suit and matching pale, chilly eyes looked down her perfect nose. “Do you have an appointment?”

Hattie clenched her teeth. The woman had an expensive leather date book open in front of her. Clearly, she knew Hattie was an interloper and clearly she was doing her best to be intimidating.

Hattie juggled the baby on her hip and managed a smile. “Tell him it’s Hattie Parker. I don’t have an appointment, but I’m sure Luc will see me if you let him know I’m here.”

Actually, that was a bald-faced lie. She had no clue if Luc would see her or not. At one time in her life he had been Prince Charming, willing and eager to do anything she wanted, to give her everything she desired.

Today, he might very well show her the door, but she was hoping he would remember some of the good times and at least hear her out. They hadn’t parted on the best of terms. But since every other option she had considered, legal or not, had gone bust, it was Luc or no one. And she wasn’t leaving without a fight.

The woman’s expression didn’t change. She was sheer perfection from her ash-blond chignon to her exquisitely made-up face to her expensive French manicure. With disdain, she examined Hattie’s disheveled blond hair, discount store khaki skirt and pink cotton blouse. Even without the drool marks at the shoulder, the outfit wasn’t going to win any fashion awards. It was hard to maintain a neat appearance when the little one grabbed handfuls of hair at regular intervals.

Hattie’s legs felt like spaghetti. The stoic security guard in the lobby had insisted that she park her stroller before entering the elevator. Seven-month-old Deedee weighed a ton, and Hattie was scared and exhausted, at the end of her rope. The last six weeks had been hell.

She took a deep breath. “Either you let me see Mr. Cavallo, or I’m going to pitch the biggest hissy fit Atlanta has seen since Scarlett O’Hara swished her skirts through the red Georgia dust.” Hattie’s chin trembled right at the end, but she refused to let this supercilious woman defeat her.