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Celebration's Baby
Nancy Robards Thompson


First comes baby, then comes…marriage? Two best friends discover the secret to true love in the latest installment of Nancy Robards Thompson's miniseries, Celebrations, Inc.!How? Well, she knew how… But Bia Anderson couldn't believe her uncharacteristic fling with a celebrity resulted in a baby. Her newspaper job was hectic, she'd just discovered her birth mother…and now this! Just when she thought it couldn't get crazier, the paparazzi descended on little Celebration, Texas. She needed help….Enter Aiden Woods. "I'll be your fake fiancé and your baby daddy." The pretend proposal wasn't just to throw off the media. Aiden had always been her BFF…and he wanted more. Still, the timing was never right. Well, it was now or never. But with Bia's hormones raging, could Aiden prove that everything she wanted was right in front of her?







“Hi, honey, I’m home!”

Aiden heard her laugh and followed it to the nursery, where she stood on a ladder. “Be careful.” He extended a hand to help her down. Good thing, because she faltered and fell into him. “See, this is why you need me,” he said, catching her.

He pulled her closer and lowered his head toward her, hesitating, giving her a chance to object.

Their first kiss had been for the tabloid reporter. This kiss wasn’t for show. This one had been a long time coming.

Need coursed through him, unlike any he’d ever felt. Never in his long history of women, each of whom was supposed to be the antidote for Bia. But there was no antidote.

There had always been obstacles between them—physical distance, engagements, his marriage and their jobs. Till now.

Enough was enough. This time he was claiming what was his.

* * *

Celebrations, Inc:

Let’s get this party started!


Celebration’s

Baby

Nancy Robards Thompson






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Award-winning author NANCY ROBARDS THOMPSON is a sister, wife and mother who has lived the majority of her life south of the Mason-Dixon line. As the oldest sibling, she reveled in her ability to make her brother laugh at inappropriate moments, and she soon learned she could get away with it by proclaiming, “What? I wasn’t doing anything.” It’s no wonder that upon graduating from college with a degree in journalism, she discovered that reporting “just the facts” bored her silly. Since she hung up her press pass to write novels full-time, critics have deemed her books “funny, smart and observant.” She loves chocolate, champagne, cats and art (though not necessarily in that order). When she’s not writing, she enjoys spending time with her family, reading, hiking and doing yoga.








This book is dedicated with love to good friends who are steadfast and true.


Contents

Chapter One (#u6a64e9b8-9269-5e39-a4a6-9387271688e4)

Chapter Two (#ua9fcf90b-11a5-528b-9735-01a089dd014e)

Chapter Three (#u1a95d2d1-fb23-517b-9615-08fdb93506c2)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One

Being in charge had its perks. Today, Bia Anderson fully intended to cash in. After all, there was chocolate involved.

She lifted her chin a little higher as she walked up the petunia-lined path to the old bungalow located at the end of Main Street in downtown Celebration—the new home of Maya’s Chocolates.

Nicole Harrison, a staff writer for the Dallas Journal of Business and Development, where Bia was the editor in chief, hadn’t hidden her disappointment that morning. Bia had assigned her to the catch-a-greased-pig contest at the grand opening of the Piggly Wiggly over in Kenansville rather than the interview for the Maya’s Chocolates business profile.

It wasn’t the first time she and Nicole had butted heads, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. But that came with the territory. In the two months since Bia had taken the reins as editor of the paper, making tough calls that sometimes disappointed the staff hadn’t gotten easier, but she just had to suck it up and do what she thought was best.

So what if they all thought she was hard as nails, lacking empathy and compassion?

What would they think when they found out she was going to be a mother? The wall immediately went up, and she told herself she didn’t care what they’d say or do or how they’d smirk when they learned she was pregnant by People’s reigning “Sexiest Man Alive,” Hugh Newman. The thought knocked the air out of her. And not in a good way; it was more like a sucker punch to the gut. Reflexively, her hand went to her belly.

She’d done the pregnancy test last night, finally pulling her head out of the sand after being two months late. She still hadn’t quite wrapped her mind around the reality of it—although the unexpected pregnancy did explain why she’d been craving chocolate to the point of insanity.

At first, she’d blamed the cravings on the stress of the Hugh Newman debacle: a five-day lapse of judgment that had ended abruptly when the paparazzi started inquiring into the identity of the woman with the auburn hair in the blue sundress, with whom Newman had been seen canoodling in Celebration, Texas.

Canoodling? Did anyone even use that word anymore?

He’d been in town doing location research—soaking up local color for his next movie. Also, he had accepted an invitation to emcee the annual Doctor’s Charity Ball, which benefited the new pediatric surgical wing at Celebration Memorial Hospital. Bia had gotten an up-close-and-personal tutorial of why Hugh had been named Mr. Sexy when she’d had lunch with him to interview him for the paper (and you can bet Nicole Harrison hadn’t been happy that Bia had claimed that assignment). Five minutes into the interview, Hugh Newman had charmed the pants off her. Okay, so maybe it had been more like an hour. God, she wasn’t that easy.

Bia stepped onto the porch and tried the door. It was locked. So she knocked and waited for Maya to let her in.

Truth be told, Bia wasn’t easy at all.

At twenty-eight years old, she’d only had two lovers. Her first had been Duane, as part of a six-year relationship that had ended in a broken engagement; the other was Hugh, an impetuous mistake she’d known wouldn’t last. And, of course, it hadn’t.

She just hadn’t expected to walk away with such a personal memento of their time together.

Dammit, she’d simply wanted one taste of sexy. One taste—and she had been prepared to walk away. But one night became five and then the media had gotten wind of the affair and suddenly the entire world was dying to know the identity of the woman with the auburn hair in the blue sundress. Overnight, Bia had gone from relative obscurity to the top of XYZ Celebrity News’s most-stalked list.

She did a hasty scan of the area looking for skulking media-types. It was a beautiful day. Shoppers were wandering in and out of places like On a Roll Bakery, Three Sisters dress shop, Dolce Vita Gourmet Grocery and Barbara’s Beauty Salon. But the area was all clear of lurking XYZ minions. Oh, they were gone now, thank God. The paparazzi had lost interest when Hugh’s camp had explained that the redhead in the blue sundress was simply his tour guide.

Nothing to see here, folks. Just a tour guide.

Liar, liar, sexy pants on fire.

At least they hadn’t called her an escort.

What had really burned was when Hugh’s people had offered to pay her to keep her mouth shut. She didn’t want his money. But she did want her privacy back. That’s the only reason she’d agreed to play along with the tour guide charade. Still, she told them to pass along the message that Hugh could keep his money and the insult it implied.

Within hours of explaining Bia away, Hugh and his longtime on-again, off-again starlet girlfriend, Kristin Capistrano, announced that they were, indeed, on again. How lovely for them. Then the tabloids developed instant amnesia about the “tour guide” and were all ablaze with the news that they had a “liftoff” and that “Hugh-stin” certainly did not have a problem. The pair proclaimed they were deeply in love and—surprise surprise—that Kristin would be costarring with Hugh in the movie that was filming in Celebration, Texas. The one for which he’d been soaking up the local color when he’d met Bia.

Bia’s mouth went dry as she thought of the scandal it would cause if anyone found out the sexiest man alive was her baby daddy.

She clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms. As far as she was concerned, Hugh Newman was dead to her. But the blue line on the pregnancy test had resurrected him.

Now she wasn’t sure what to do... Except that, ready or not, she was going to have a baby—and she was going to keep it.

There was no question about that. Bia was adopted, and she’d often wondered why her birth mother had chosen to give her up rather than trying to make it work. Her mother and father—the ones who had adopted her—had been good people. At least her father had been. She hadn’t really known her adoptive mother. She’d passed away when Bia was five, leaving her adoptive father to raise her.

The strong, silent type, he’d never been much of a talker. He’d bristled the handful of times she’d asked about her birth mother. So she hadn’t pressed it.

Her dad had passed away last year, and now more than ever she wished she knew more about her roots. Maybe it was time to start digging. She’d need to know...for her child’s sake. Health history and all that.

Bia rapped on the door again, shifting her weight from one foot to another. Across the street, a friend of her father’s called to her and waved. She waved back.

Thank God her father wasn’t alive to see what a mess she’d made of things. She sighed.

It had just happened. When she’d sat down to interview Hugh, she’d been the picture of professionalism. At first she’d been immune to his notorious charms. Then he’d started putting the moves on her. Heavy-duty flirting. With her.

Hugh Newman had been flirting with her.

That was all it had taken for her resolve to melt like pure cane sugar in hot-brewed tea.

They’d used protection. Every single time.

That’s the part she couldn’t quite comprehend. How this could have happened when she’d been so careful?

Thinking about it made her feel nauseated.

She gave herself a mental shake.

She’d made her choices. Now she’d have to live with the consequences. Still, if she could just have one do-over in life, she’d turn back the clock two months and stay the heck away from Mr. Sexy. She’d let Nicole be Hugh Newman’s tour guide.

She knocked on the door yet again, this time a little harder. Where the heck was Maya?

Above Bia’s head hung a weathered, hand-painted wooden sign that boasted, Maya’s Chocolates—Happily Ever After Starts Here. It swayed and squeaked on the lazy breeze of the warm May afternoon. The words, written in gray-blue calligraphy on a whitewashed background, were underlined by a fancy, scrolling arrow that pointed toward the door.

Happily Ever After. Right here, huh?

Nice thought.

She tried the door again, this time giving it a firmer tug and then a push, but it was locked tight as a tick. She shaded her eyes and peered in the glass front door. No one was in the showroom. All the fixtures seemed to be in place, but they looked empty.

Hmm, that was curious.

The store’s grand opening was scheduled for next week. Bia thought that a good bit of the merchandise would be in place by now.

Had Maya forgotten their appointment? If they didn’t let her in to start the interview soon, Bia couldn’t promise that anyone was going to have a happily ever after. Bia glanced at her cell phone to check the time. Okay, so she was a couple of minutes early, but it was warm outside. She was feeling a little dizzy and beads of perspiration were forming underneath her silk blouse and starting to run down the crevice of her back.

Certain foods and smells—like coffee and the noxious traffic fumes wafting up from Main Street—made her feel ill. That, along with the chocolate cravings and, of course, the missed periods, were what had finally sent her to Dallas to purchase the in-home test. She couldn’t purchase it in the local drugstore. Word would get around faster than if it had been aired on XYZ.

She blinked away the thought and refocused on the mental list of interview questions she would ask Maya...if she ever answered the door.

Bia was just about to dial Maya’s phone number when, through the panes of glass on the front door, she saw the woman hurrying toward her in a flurry of long red spiral curls and flouncing green scarf and skirt. She was wiping her hands on a dish towel, which she flung over her shoulder as she opened the door with a breathless greeting.

“Bonjour! You’re here!” Maya’s lyrical accented voice rang out and mingled with the sounds of chirping birds and traffic. “I hope you have not been waiting long. I was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on a surprise just for you. Come in! Come in, cher! Please, come in.”

A surprise? For me?

“I hope it’s chocolate,” Bia said.

“But of course it is.” Maya smiled as she held open the door for Bia and motioned her inside. A cool gust of air that smelled like rich dark chocolate greeted her and took the edge off her queasiness. Bia breathed in deeply.

“Well, then, in that case, you’re forgiven.” Bia grinned. “I have been dreaming of your chocolate since the Doctor’s Ball. It was the first time I’d tasted it. In fact, for the past several weeks, I’ve been craving chocolate like crazy, but the over-the-counter stuff just isn’t doing it for me. I think you’ve spoiled me for all other sweets. I just learned that Baldoon’s Pub offers your Irish cream truffles on their dessert menu.”

“Indeed they do,” Maya said over her shoulder as Bia followed her into the house. “I like to hear that I’ve spoiled you for other chocolate. You might say that’s the theme of my business plan.”

The front room was set up as a shop with a refrigerated glass case in the center of the space. Like the shelving fixtures, the case was empty, Bia noted with chagrin. But it was surrounded by lovely silver-veined marble counters that housed a cash register and supplies to wrap purchases. Even if there was a decided dearth of chocolate, the place looked fresh and clean and light with its white paint, whitewashed wooden floors and yards of silver tulle draped elegantly across the ceiling. The look created an ethereal cloudlike effect.

Again, Bia breathed in the delicious aroma of chocolate, and her stomach growled. Since the cases and shelves were empty, she had to wonder if she was imagining the scent. Or had Maya piped it in for effect?

“Where’s the chocolate?” Bia finally asked. “Don’t you make all your goods on the premises? If so, how are you going to fill the cases and shelves before the grand opening?”

Maya glanced around the room. “I suppose it does look rather empty in here, doesn’t it?” She sighed and went behind the wrap stand. “Alas, the increased demand for chocolate has forced me to be less hands-on with the manufacturing process. I still make some special made-to-order candy—like this batch I made especially for you this morning.”

She presented a three-tiered glass-and-silver dessert plate brimming with confections in various shapes and colors. Bia’s mouth watered at the sight.

“I thought I smelled chocolate in the air. But then I worried that I’d simply imagined it.”

Maya laughed. “It is a lovely fragrance, isn’t it? Some say the mere smell of chocolate causes a woman’s body to release hormones that simulate the feeling of falling in love.”

“Ha! All of the feelings and none of the heartache,” Bia said. “Sounds like the perfect relationship. I just wish chocolate didn’t love me back so much. It tends to stay with me. You know, right here.” She patted her left hip.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, you are reed-thin. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Gosh, makes chocolates, gives compliments...I think you and I could be good friends.”

Maya’s eyes shone. “I certainly hope so.”

“You will have chocolate for the grand opening, won’t you?” Bia asked.

Maya nodded. “Of course. I was fortunate enough to find a stateside manufacturer who was able to duplicate my family recipe in bulk, the one my grandmother used to start the business three generations ago. The candy for the shelves and case will be delivered the day before we open. That way it will be as fresh as can be. We’ll have to work extra hard to get everything in place, but it will be worth it.”

Maya gestured toward the plate. “But please, don’t let me detain you. Help yourself.”

Reverently, Bia approached the manna. She paused to give the illusion of self-control, so that it didn’t look as if she was about to bury her face in all that deliciousness. But then she found herself genuinely appreciating the sheer artistry of Maya’s offering.

Yes, this definitely could be the start of a beautiful friendship.

Maya placed a silver cocktail napkin on the counter next to Bia. She also produced a small crystal pitcher of water, a matching glass and a plate containing bread, crackers and apple slices.

“What is this?” Bia asked.

“These are the palate cleansers for the chocolate tasting,” Maya said. “To fully discern the differences between the chocolates, you must cleanse your palate between each tasting.”

Oh. Bia suddenly felt a little out of her element. “You treat chocolate like some people treat wine?”

“Pourquoi pas?” Maya asked.

“You’re right. Why not?”

“May I recommend that you start with the chocolates on the first tier? It has a lower percentage of cocoa and a milder taste. The chocolate on the upper tier will overpower those on the bottom. I suggest you let the chocolate melt on your tongue rather than chewing it, and in between different bites, enjoy a bit of apple or bread washed down by the water. That way you will taste all the nuances of each piece.”

Maya gestured to the plate and gave Bia a few more tips on how to proceed: to observe the chocolate, to smell it and to break it, feeling the way the pieces of solid chocolate snapped, before finally tasting it. Those were all indicators of good quality.

Finally, she said, “That is enough instruction. Please enjoy.”

Bia started to choose a chocolate from the bottom, but she paused. “Will there be a quiz when I’m finished?”

Maya laughed her perfect, crystal laugh. Bia breathed in deeply, savoring the mélange of scents from the plate. For the first time in a long time, a sense of peace and well-being washed over her.

“Only questions about which are your favorites,” Maya answered.

“It’s all gorgeous. I’m sure they will all be delicious.”

First, she selected what looked like a classic chocolate truffle dusted with cocoa powder. She bit into it, and flavor exploded on her tongue. She closed her eyes and had to make a conscious effort not to let a moan escape.

Oh, Maya was wrong. This chocolate didn’t simulate love; it was better. Way better. Better than kissing. Better than sex.

Oh, my God, I’m in public and I’m making virtual love to a French truffle. And I don’t care.

She opened her eyes, and her gaze automatically found the dessert plate. She was tempted to pluck up another piece—a handful—even before she had finished the first. Somehow she managed to restrain herself.

She popped the rest of the first truffle into her mouth. She had the same urge to moan over the chocolate. It was too good. So she quit fighting and gave in to the unadulterated pleasure.

Finally, after blissfully indulging in several pieces from each level, Bia forced herself to take a step back. She had to put some space between herself and her vice. If she didn’t, she was going to eat too much. Although, with the lingering flavors of chocolate, orange, cinnamon and cloves teasing her taste buds, that seemed unlikely. With one last wistful glance at the candy, she said, “That was delicious, Maya. I wish I could say I’d eaten myself sick, but I think I may want more later.”

“And you say that like it’s a bad thing?”

The two laughed like old friends.

“Your decor looks exquisite. Who did your decorating?”

Maya beamed. “Thank you. I did it myself. I tried to give the front of the house a similar feel to my shop in St. Michel. Similar, but maybe a touch more modern. More American. I wanted it to feel like home, since I will be spending a great deal of time here.”

“Let’s see,” Bia said, flipping through her reporter’s notebook, searching for the brief bio she’d gathered on Maya. “You’re from St. Michel in Europe. Are you moving to Celebration?”

Maya stopped, considering the question. “I will be here for the time being. Because my heart is telling me Celebration is where I belong right now, especially while I am getting the new location off the ground. I must make sure it does well.”

Bia jotted down more notes and anecdotes for use in her story. “Who is looking after your St. Michel shop while you’re away?”

“I have promoted my assistant, Grace, to the managerial position. If anyone knows the shop as well as I do, Grace does. I trust that the place is in good hands.”

Maya paused again, as if weighing her words. “As you can imagine, the Celebration location will need much tender loving care while I get the business off the ground.”

Bia nodded. “I’m curious, though. Why in the world did you choose Celebration, Texas, as the location of your first U.S. retail store? I mean, no offense to this town. It’s a great place. It’s my home. But of all the places in the world...why Celebration?”

Maya’s eyes shone as she regarded Bia, and for the first time Bia noticed that the older woman’s eyes were a gorgeous shade of hazel infused with intriguing flecks of amber and green, accentuated by the color of her skirt. The same mossy color was also echoed in the silk scarf that she had artfully arranged around her neck. Leave it to the French, Bia mused. They could create something enchanted out of a yard of silk and a bolt of tulle.

Maya’s hair was magical, too. Bia’s hair, when left to its natural devices, was almost as curly as Maya’s. But Bia straightened hers since it never wanted to do the same thing twice. A few months ago, she’d opted for a keratin treatment so she wouldn’t have to fight with it during the humid days of summer. It was only May, but the oppressive damp-heat days were already bearing down on them, as if someone were misting the entire town with a gigantic vaporizer. At this rate, by the time August rolled around, humidity would hang in the air like a billowing stratus cloud. Thanks to the magic of keratin, at least Bia’s hair was armed and ready to take on the summer...and the pregnancy.

Oh...the pregnancy.

She swallowed hard and blinked away the thought.

“Why Celebration?” Bia urged.

She looked up from her notepad and caught Maya staring at her with an odd expression. In an instant the look was gone, replaced by Maya’s placid, Madonna-like smile.

“I have...friends here. Do you know Pepper Meriweather, A. J. Sherwood-Antonelli and Caroline Coopersmith?” Maya asked.

“I know Caroline. Her husband, Drew Montgomery, is my boss.”

Maya gave a quick flick of her wrist. “Of course he is. Well, I met Caroline, A.J. and Pepper through a mutual friend who went to school with them. This was a few years ago, before any of them were married. They’d come to St. Michel to help another friend. Margeaux Broussard? Do you know her?”

Bia shook her head and continued to furiously scribble notes as Maya talked.

“Anyhow,” Maya continued, “the girls had come to St. Michel with Margeaux to help her make amends with her father, from whom she’d been estranged for the better part of her life. Once they’d accomplished that mission, they returned to Celebration, luring my good friend Sydney James away from St. Michel with the promise of a job with Texas Star Energy right here in Celebration.”

Bia raised her head and looked at Maya. She knew Sydney pretty well, since the woman had just married Miles Mercer. Miles was good friends with Bia’s best friend, Aiden Woods. The four of them got together a lot. Bia would’ve called it double dating if she and Aiden had been a couple, but they weren’t. She’d known him since kindergarten and cared too much about him to ruin their relationship by dating him.

“Texas Star Energy, huh?” Bia said.

Maya nodded and quirked a brow that seemed to indicate she knew all about the scandalous demise of the corrupt energy empire. Bia had been the reporter who had broken the story that had started the conglomerate’s unraveling. In fact, her investigative reporting and subsequent awards had helped her clinch the editorship of the paper after Drew Montgomery had decided to give up editing to focus more on the publishing end of the paper. But Texas Star was in the past. It was a can of worms Bia didn’t want to reopen.

“So, you followed your friends to Celebration?”

“Oh, mais non. It’s a little more complicated.” Maya pursed her lips. “At first, I visited them. I attended each of their weddings. In fact, some might say that I even had a hand in bringing each of them together with their soul mates.”

“You introduced them?”

Maya gave a noncommittal one-shoulder shrug. How very French her gestures were. But wait...hadn’t Drew met Caroline at a wedding...? Yes. It had been Caroline’s sister’s wedding. It had been right around the time that everything was coming to a head at Texas Star.

“Technically, non. I didn’t physically introduce them. It’s another complicated story, really.”

“You’re full of complicated stories, aren’t you? If you’d care to expound, I’m here to listen.... That’s what I do.”

Maya studied her as if she was deciding whether she would take Bia up on the offer of a listening ear.

“Well, I do love to talk.” Maya laughed, an infectious sound that made Bia smile.

“Over the years, the girls—Pepper, A.J. and Caroline—have become very dear to me. So, I’ve always looked out for them, and that’s how I had a hand in bringing them together with their soul mates.”

Again, Bia paused and looked up at the woman. Soul mates. There was that word again. Bia filed soul mates in the same category as happily ever after. She wasn’t sure she believed there was such a thing, especially after being left at the altar by the man who should’ve been her soul mate if there was such a thing. Nope, in her book, love was an urban legend. People talked about it. Some even claimed to have experienced it, but real love—the kind that grafted your soul to another person’s for better or worse, the type that could withstand bleached-blonde strippers and the relentless paparazzi—had managed to elude Bia her entire life.

Actually, she’d read somewhere that soul mates weren’t always lovers. Sometimes they were parent and child, sometimes best friends. If that were true, the closest thing to a soul mate she’d ever had was Aiden. Their relationship had survived some pretty treacherous hurdles. It had actually transcended sex. That’s probably why it worked. They hadn’t ruined things by getting physical.

God knew there had been plenty of times Bia had been tempted to give in to his charm. The guy was gorgeous—in a more rugged and down-to-earth way than Hugh’s pretty-boy looks. Women found Aiden irresistible. Since college, he’d had a constant rotation of babes. None of them serious.

Then he’d gotten married. It had lasted two years before they’d called it quits and he’d reverted back to his freewheeling ways.

He wouldn’t talk about what had happened. All he would say was that he hadn’t cheated. “It just didn’t work out.”

His smorgasbord of women had been the main reason Bia had kept Aiden in the friend zone. Well, that and the fact that he’d thrown the bachelor party that ended with the stripper that had broken up her engagement.

Still, despite all Aiden’s faults, Duane and Hugh were long gone, and Aiden was still there.

She put her hand on her stomach. And he would be the first person she told about the baby.

“...and I came to Celebration to see each one of them say I do,” Maya continued. “Each time I visited, I was drawn to this town. As time went on and I visited more, I knew there was a reason I was supposed to be here.”

For a moment, Maya looked wistful. Bia studied her, taking a mental snapshot and hoping she could somehow convey Maya’s mood in the article.

“Would you care to elaborate?”

A warm smile reclaimed Maya’s delicate features. “At home, in St. Michel, I’m known as un marieur.”

“I beg your pardon,” said Bia.

“A matchmaker. I am a third-generation chocolatier by trade, but matchmaking, you might say, is my passion. Some people believe my chocolate is magical.”

Bia stopped writing and looked up. The cinnamon and clove from the last piece of chocolate still lingered on the back of her tongue.

“So, you’re telling me your chocolate is enchanted? What? Do you sprinkle in love potions or something?”

“I would claim nothing of the sort. My chocolate is all natural. Everything is on the label, except for a few proprietary blends.”

“The love potions?”

Maya raked her hands through her hair. “Oh, I should not have said that. Please don’t print that in the profile.”

“Why not? It will probably drive business through the roof. Everyone wants love.”

Well, almost everyone.

As if confirming Bia’s thoughts, Maya did her one-shoulder French shrug.

“What?” Bia asked. “You don’t believe that?”

“I do believe there is someone for everyone. You, for instance. You’ve had your share of setbacks, but there’s someone for you. In fact, you’ve already met him.”

Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. If she was going to start asking about the Hugh Newman debacle, Bia would shut that down very quickly. Instead of waiting to get caught in the pickle, she turned the tables.

“Is there someone special in your life?”

Maya paused and drew in a slow, thoughtful breath.

Ha. It’s not so comfortable to be on the receiving end of the dating game rapid-fire, is it?

“Alas, even though my intuition is generally good when it comes to pairing up others, it doesn’t work so well for me personally.”

“So, does this intuitive gift of yours carry over into other areas? Would you go as far as saying you have the gift of second sight?”

Maya laughed. “If I had the second sight, I would’ve already won the lottery. I wouldn’t be agonizing over rollout budgets and marketing campaigns. But that’s strictly off the record, oui?”

“Fair enough,” said Bia. “Back to the business of chocolate. I understand this is the first of two new Maya’s Chocolates that you’re opening stateside. Where will the other location be?”

“I want to get the one here in Celebration off the ground, and then I’ll look into opening another, possibly in New York. However, it’s important that I ensure the fiscal health of the current locations. Especially the one in St. Michel. That’s where my grandmother started the business. It has been a fixture in downtown St. Michel for three generations. All of the recipes have been passed down through the years from mother to daughter.”

“And will you continue the tradition?”

Maya nodded.

“Do you have children?”

For a fraction of a second, Bia thought she saw a shade of sadness color Maya’s eyes.

“Come with me,” Maya said. “I want to show you something.”

The woman led the way to the kitchen, which was hidden behind a double-layered curtain made of silver gossamer backed by heavy white satin. When Maya parted the drapes, allowing Bia her first glimpse behind the scenes, Bia half expected she would glimpse the great and powerful Oz or some other secret to which mere mortals weren’t privy. If they were, wouldn’t every chocoholic have her own in-home chocolatier?

But when Bia stepped over the threshold, she didn’t see anything that looked extraordinary. In fact, the kitchen, with its sterile stainless-steel countertops and run-of-the-mill industrial sink, refrigerator and gas range, looked quite...ordinary. Well, with the exception of the gleaming copper pots hanging on a rack over the sink, and the adorable pink-and-black box that was festively tied with a ribbon and waiting on the counter. Bia eyed the package.

It looked like a box of Maya’s famous chocolate.

For her to take home? She had to bite her tongue to keep from asking the question out loud.

As if Maya had read her mind, she picked up the package and handed it to Bia. “This is for you.”

“Ah, thank you,” Bia said.

She gestured around the kitchen with a motion of her hand. “So this is where the magic happens?”

Pride straightened Maya’s already admirable posture. “Oui. My mother and grandmother passed on those copper pots over there. That’s what I wanted to show you. The recipes are proprietary, guarded jealously and handed down through the generations with the copper pots and the family Bible, from mother to daughter to granddaughter.”

She walked over and took down one of the three gleaming vessels, running the pads of her manicured fingers lovingly over its shiny surface. “My grandmother gave them to my mother, and, in turn, my mother gave them to me. Everything in this shop is brand-new, but I brought these with me as a symbol of the past, to remind me of the importance of family. I use them to make special smaller batches. Personal chocolates. Like those you sampled earlier and the box you will take home.”

“Thank you,” Bia said.

But the burning question, the one that Maya had quite deftly skirted, was the one about children. While Bia hated to assume, she couldn’t bring herself to press Maya for an answer. Wasn’t it obvious? If Maya had an heir, she would’ve said so. Judging by the look on her face when Bia had originally asked the question, she knew she’d struck a nerve. No, it was definitely better not to go there.

“Your grandmother founded the business? She named it Maya’s Chocolates?”

“She did.”

“So, you were named after the family business?”

“No, I was named after my grandmother. Her name was also Maya.”

A bittersweet taste caught in the back of Bia’s throat, replacing the cinnamon and cloves. How lucky Maya was to be so connected to her past. It was a luxury that might not be afforded to Bia, unless she chose to go out searching for the woman who’d given her up all those years ago. Would it really be worth it? Walking into someone’s life, disrupting—or possibly upending—the world to which they’d become accustomed?

If an attempted reconnection ended in rejection, maybe it would be better to leave well enough alone. She’d had a happy childhood with a father who’d done his darnedest to give her the best life he was capable of giving. Maybe there was something wrong with wanting any more than that.

She put her hand on her stomach. If Bia could get blind health records from the adoption agency, maybe it would serve everyone best to look forward rather than backward.

“Do you have extended family who will carry on the Maya’s Chocolates tradition in the future?”

“That remains to be seen.”

There was that look again. Bia glimpsed it before Maya turned away to hang up the copper pot.

She was just about to ask Maya to clarify the remains to be seen comment, when a patch of cold sweat erupted on the back of Bia’s neck. She tugged at the neckline of her dress. Good grief, it felt as if someone had turned up the heat in the kitchen at least twenty degrees. A dizzying wave of nausea passed over her, and she grabbed on to the edge of the counter to steady herself.

Maya reached out and touched Bia’s arm. “Are you all right? Let me get you some water and a chair so you can sit down.”

Maya pulled over a wrought-iron chair from a small glass-topped table for two that stood in the corner of the kitchen. Bia had been so busy ogling the box of chocolates she hadn’t noticed the dining set until now. Shaking, she lowered herself onto the seat. What the heck was wrong with her? She’d heard of morning sickness, but it was midafternoon. This was ridiculous. She’d just have to power through. She had so much to do she didn’t have time for the indulgence of a sick day. As she’d done since she’d first felt the symptoms, she made the choice to buck up and push through.

Mind over matter. She always managed to feel better when she decided not to think about how she felt, not to give in.

Maya returned with some ice water. Bia gratefully accepted it and took a sip. She pressed the cool glass to her forehead. It helped.

How embarrassing was this? She took a deep breath and reminded herself she just needed to tie up loose ends for the article and then she could leave. She might even work from home for the rest of the day as she wrote the story.

“Thank you, Maya. I’m sorry about the interruption. I’m just feeling a little light-headed.”

Maya walked over and put a cool hand on Bia’s cheek. The breach of personal space was a little startling, but at the same time, it was sort of touching.

“No fever,” Maya said. “Here, give me your hand.”

Bia hesitated for a moment, then complied. Maya held Bia’s hand. If the hand on the cheek had been a little weird, this made Bia want to squirm. But the thought of moving caused a new wave of nausea to crest.

“Any chance you could be pregnant?” Maya asked with the same casual tone she might use if she were asking if Bia had ever tasted chocolate-dipped bacon.

Bia jerked her hand away from Maya’s and tried to stand up, but the rush of blood to her head landed her right back on the chair—hard.

“That’s a very personal question,” Bia insisted as alarms sounded in her head: Maya and her intuition. But what audacity for the woman to even suggest something like that to someone she barely knew?

Bia stood, this time more carefully. “I need to go.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Maya said. “Please know everything is going to be okay. You have to believe that—”

“I’m just under the weather,” Bia said, a little too irritably. “It’s nothing to be alarmed about.”

Bia turned to leave but dropped her notebook as she tried to hitch her purse up on her shoulder.

Maya swooped down and retrieved the notebook before Bia could reach it. “Bia, I’m sorry.” Maya handed it to her. Bia took it with a quick jerk of the hand. “Really. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll have Nicole Harrison call you if we need anything else for the article.”

Maya nodded solemnly. “Please forgive me if I have overstepped my bounds. But I have to say this. Please know you and the baby are going to be okay. Hugh Newman may be the father of your child, but there is another man who will love you and your baby the way you deserve to be loved. And that’s not all.”

“Oh, yes it is,” Bia said, backing away.

“Your family cares about you deeply and will rally around you during your pregnancy. You have absolutely nothing to fear.”

Okay, this is the last straw. Who does this woman think she is bringing my family into this, as she spouts her woo-woo nonsense pretending like she knows what’s going on? She obviously has no idea what she’s talking about.

But if so, how did she know Bia was pregnant and that Hugh was the father? Conjecture? A lucky guess?

“This is none of your business,” Bia said. “I’d appreciate it if you’d stop with the advice.”

Maya’s face turned scarlet. As Bia passed through the curtains into the front of the shop, Maya said, “Bia, I’m sorry. I would never say or do anything to hurt you. Not on purpose.”

Bia stopped and whirled around, looking Maya in the eyes. “Hurt me? You don’t even know me. So please stop talking like you do. Stay out of my business, okay? Stay out of mine, and I will certainly stay out of yours.”


Chapter Two

“I’m pregnant, Aiden.”

Aiden Woods sat at Bia’s kitchen table across from her, weighing his words before he spoke. He was inclined to make a joke—something about not being ready to be a father or that pregnancy was impossible since they’d never had sex.

Ha-ha?

Nope. Not funny.

For once in his life the filter of good sense kicked in before he stuck his foot in his mouth. Besides, one look at Bia’s ashen face told him she wasn’t joking.

“B?”

She didn’t sleep around. So he had a pretty good idea who the father was. Hugh Newman, the bastard. He wouldn’t wish the guy on anyone, much less someone he cared about.

“Are you sure?” The question sounded absurd to his own ears. But what else was he supposed to say? I’m sorry? Tough break? Princess, I tried to warn you that Hugh Newman was a horse’s ass with a pretty face, but did you listen? No, you didn’t.

“Yes, I’m quite sure. Three pregnancy tests don’t lie.” Her eyes welled up with tears.

Damn. Not the tears. Aiden fumbled for a minute. Then he reached across the table and took her hand. As the waterworks began to roll, she held on like he was her life preserver.

“God, I am so stupid, Aiden. How could I have gotten myself into this mess? How could I have let this happen?”

“Hey, hey, it’s going to be okay.” He got up and went around to her side of the table and slid onto the built-in banquette, putting his arm around her. She cried on his shoulder for a solid five minutes.

When Bia had called him at nine-thirty that morning asking if he was free, if he could get away because she needed to talk to him about something important, he’d left the taping of Catering to Dallas, the reality television show that he produced, in the capable hands of the show’s director, Miles Mercer, and met Bia. No wonder she hadn’t wanted to meet him for coffee at the diner as he’d initially suggested. She wasn’t a drama queen, so when she’d asked—and Bia never asked, not something like this—he knew it was important, but he’d never imagined a bomb like this.

Damn.

“Does Hugh know?” he asked, handing her a paper napkin from the holder on the table.

Bia wiped her eyes.

“No. You’re the only person I’ve told. Well, you know and Maya LeBlanc guessed.”

“Who is Maya LeBlanc?”

“She owns the new chocolate shop that’s opening downtown. When I interviewed her yesterday, she took one look at me and asked me if I was pregnant.”

Aiden squinted at her. “How the hell did she guess something like that?”

“I wasn’t feeling well. I had a sinking spell and almost passed out. She must’ve put two and two together. Really, it wasn’t such a stretch. Kind of personal of her to ask, but she did. Of course, that was after we’d been talking about her being highly intuitive. Maybe she was trying to prove a point about her intuition. I don’t know.”

“Did she guess who the father is?”

Bia flinched. “Absolutely not.” She wrung her hands. “Well, sort of. But I didn’t confirm that she was right. Come to think of it, though, I didn’t even confirm that I was pregnant.”

“But she knew it was Hugh? What is this woman, psychic or something?”

Bia inclined her head to the side and pierced him with impatient eyes. “If you think about it, after all the press Hugh and I got, that isn’t such a stretch.”

“Is she the one who tipped off the press back in March?”

Bia blinked. “Maya? I can’t imagine that she would do something like that. I mean, what would she stand to gain?”

Aiden shrugged. “Someone tipped them off. We don’t know who. It sure seems like she’s fishing.”

“Well, if the press finds out that I’m pregnant, we’ll know who told them.”

Aiden nodded. “When are you going to tell Hugh?”

Bia took a deep breath, held it for a minute and then let it out audibly. She propped her elbow on the table and rested her forehead in her palms.

“You’re going to tell him, aren’t you?”

She didn’t look up.

“Bia, you have to tell him.”

“I don’t have to do anything, Aiden. I can’t even think right now. My head feels like it is about to explode.”

“I understand,” Aiden said. “But he’s the father. He deserves to know.”

She gave a little growl. “I didn’t ask you to come here to lecture me.”

That was his cue to back off. A woman he’d gone out with a couple of times had told him that sometimes women didn’t want men to solve their problems; they just wanted them to listen. Seemed kind of ridiculous when a perfectly good solution to the problem was right there in front of them.

“I get that, but come on, B. If I got a woman pregnant, I’d want to know. It’s as much his child as it is yours.”

She rolled her eyes, which looked emerald green through the tears.

“You and Hugh Newman are two completely different animals, Aiden. I didn’t tell you this, but—” She grimaced and shook her head as if she could take back the bait.

“You didn’t tell me what?”

She grabbed another napkin and blew her nose. “This is so embarrassing....” She closed her eyes for a moment, as if gathering her courage. “In the midst of the media frenzy, when the press was going crazy, making me out to be some sort of mystery girlfriend, Hugh’s people offered to pay me to keep quiet.”

Aiden shrugged. “That’s not so out of character for him.”

“No, you don’t get it. He didn’t call me. He had his people do it. Somehow, I don’t think he will be very happy to hear from me now.”

Aiden balled his fists. He’d worked with the guy years ago when he was in Hollywood. Aiden had been a production assistant on one of his movies in the early days. The guy was a jackass, out for no one but himself.

“Well, if you call him and he ignores you, you’ve done your duty. Once you let him know, it’s off your shoulders. But, B, if he wants to be part of the baby’s life, you have to let him. A kid can change a guy. Give him a chance. If he wants nothing to do with the baby, you’re free to walk away.”

He couldn’t believe he was defending Hugh Newman.

“God, you’re bossy,” she said through a fresh stream of tears.

“But you know I’m right.”

She nodded. Then squeezed her eyes shut as she put her head on his shoulder and sobbed again.

“Hey, it’s not that bad. I’m here for you. I know it’s a shock, but you’re strong. You can do this.”

Once again, he slid his arm around her shoulder and she nestled into him as if she belonged there. His heart twisted, but he ignored it and lowered his head so that it rested on hers. Her hair smelled like coconut and something floral that made him breathe in a little deeper.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, until she pulled away. She reached for another napkin, wiped her eyes and blew her nose again. “You’re right. I have to call him. The sooner I do it, the sooner it’s over.”

But she just sat there and didn’t get up to get her phone.

“You have his number, right?”

She nodded. “Well, I have a number for him. I haven’t talked to him in two months, since everything erupted. You know, it’s funny, the other day I almost deleted his number, but I didn’t.”

“Why not? Were you harboring hopes of a second chance?”

She made a disgusted tsking sound and gave his arm a little shove. “Hardly. I didn’t delete it because I got tied up with something else. I’ve been too busy at the paper since then to give him a second thought. I certainly haven’t been pining over him, Aiden.”

“Good to know,” he said.

“Why is that good to know?”

“Because I don’t want to see you get hurt again, B. I mean, you have to let him know about the child, but I don’t want you to harbor any expectations. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“He didn’t hurt me.”

He studied her for a minute, doing his best to read her, but she’d put the wall up. She was good at that, shutting out people and situations so that they didn’t get under her skin. This was only the second time he’d seen her cry. The other time was when she’d broken up with Duane. He would’ve held her then, too, but she’d blamed him for hiring the stripper that Duane had slept with two nights before their wedding. It took some time for their friendship to heal, but she’d finally acknowledged that if it hadn’t happened then, it would’ve likely been someone else. Better to find out before the wedding than after they’d been married for a few years.

Aiden hated that he’d played a part in anything that had hurt Bia. But he knew Duane didn’t love her the way she deserved to be loved. He had made his decision and he’d suffered the consequences.

“What do you think Hugh will say when I tell him?” she asked, her voice sounding unusually small.

That was a no-win question. The Hugh he knew was probably the last person who wanted a kid, especially with someone who couldn’t advance his career. Bia was salt of the earth, the tenacious girl-next-door type. A woman any normal guy would fall over himself to be with. She was smart, funny and loyal to those she cared about. And he’d realized too late that he’d loved her all his life.

“I think what’s more important is what you’re going to say. How you pose it to him sets the tone for his response.”

She opened her mouth but closed it again, sitting back against the banquette and sighing. “I don’t know what to say.” She threw up her hands and let them fall into her lap.

“Tell him the truth. Cut-and-dry.”

“Hi, Hugh. It’s Bia Anderson. Remember me? No? Well, I was your Celebration, Texas, tour guide. Yeah, right, that one. The one your people offered to pay to be quiet. Funny thing, I’m pregnant. Yeah, that’s right. You and I are going to be parents. Isn’t that great news? I’m sure that’s changed your mind about me—makes me so much more attractive, doesn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve got nothing, Aiden.”

He didn’t know what to say. Usually, Bia had no problem saying what was on her mind. That’s what made her a good reporter and had gotten her the top job at the paper. It was a rare circumstance that she was hesitant to make a call or speak her mind.

Of course Bia didn’t know what to say. She didn’t play contrived Hollywood games, which was one of the many things that Aiden loved about her. It was why this was so hard for her.

“Let’s think about this,” he said. “He’ll probably be shocked. Be prepared for that. He might need some time to digest things before he’s able to wrap his mind around it.”

Bia chewed her thumbnail.

“And there’s always Kristin. If he’s really in love with her, this is going to make things pretty rocky for them. If he told her the tour guide story, she’ll probably be pretty upset.”

Bia snorted. “Heaven forbid we upset Kristin Capistrano.”

Aiden held up his hands. “Hey, I’m just trying to help.”

“I know you are. I’m sorry.”

“There’s always the possibility that they’re not in love,” he offered. “At least not with each other. They’re filming a movie together in a few weeks. The relationship is good press. Just watch. But be prepared. He may want to keep things quiet about the baby until after the premiere. Don’t be surprised.”

Bia blanched. “That could be a year.”

Aiden touched her arm. It was warm and soft. Her skin broke out into goose flesh on contact. He tried not to read anything into that. Instead, he reminded himself that she was pregnant. With another man’s child. Somehow, that just made him feel more protective of her.

“But if he’s any sort of human being, he will man-up in due time.”

They sat quietly for a moment. The only sound in the kitchen was the hum of the refrigerator and the faint tick of the old-fashioned red enamel rooster clock that hung over the banquette.

“I know I’ve already told you this, but my dad did a great job raising me. Still, I always felt as if I were missing out because I didn’t have two parents. A kid deserves two parents.”

“You’re preaching to the choir,” Aiden said. “Your dad was more of a father to me than my own.”

Aiden’s dad had left the family when Aiden was nine years old. The age where every boy needs a father figure most. Aiden had spent more time at the Andersons’ house hanging out with Bia’s dad, Hank, than at his own. Hank had taught him how to throw a football, taken him fishing and taught him how to drive a car with a manual transmission.

“If Hugh wants to be part of the baby’s life—or even better, if he wants to make a life with us—I’d be willing to consider it.”

Aiden had to grit his teeth to keep from telling her not to count on it. Because Aiden knew if he said it, he’d be the bad guy. The jerk. No, he’d just keep quiet and let Hugh speak for himself. Maybe the guy would surprise everyone. Fat chance, but stranger things had happened.

“So, you’d be willing to make that sacrifice, huh? Living with the sexiest man alive? Wow, you’re such a martyr, Princess. Such a martyr.”

She rolled her eyes at him. Then she nestled into the crook between his arm and shoulder, that place where she fit so well.

“What’s next, after you call Hugh?”

“I have a doctor’s appointment Thursday.”

“What time?”

“Why?”

“I’ll go with you.”

“You don’t have to do that, Aiden.”

“I know, but I want to. I’ll be there for you, for moral support.

* * *

Cell phone in hand, Bia went into the bedroom and shut the door. Aiden was waiting in the kitchen. He’d said he understood that she needed to be alone when she made the call.

She wondered if he was standing guard, making sure she actually went through with it. She eyed the window, contemplating crawling out of it. But she knew that although she might be able to run away now, she’d never be able to escape the truth. She might as well make the call while Aiden was there. Besides, he would know if she chickened out. He had this uncanny way of reading her.

After what had happened with Maya yesterday, she wondered if she was too much of an open book or too transparent, but that had never been the case before. In fact, if anything, most people accused her of being too closed, too prickly. Maya’s correct guess that Bia was pregnant had been a fluke. That’s all there was to it. She would just need to make sure Maya didn’t say anything to anyone else. She would go talk to her again later that week.

But right now, first things first. She needed to make the call.

Her hand was shaking as she picked up the phone and pulled up Hugh’s number in her contacts. She wanted to laugh at the irony—how many women would pay to have Hugh Newman’s private number, to hear his voice over the line? But this was a call that she dreaded more than any she’d ever placed.

She stared at her phone screen for a moment, at the ten-digit number and the small thumbnail photo of Hugh’s face in the top left-hand corner of the page.

Her finger hovered over the call button, but she was paralyzed. She couldn’t press it.

Maybe she should send him a certified letter?

Right.

That was the big chicken’s way out. She didn’t know what address to send it to, and, even if she did, she had no guarantee he would be the one to open it—certified letter or not. The rules that applied to the little people didn’t always hold true for people like Hugh and his set.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” she muttered under her breath. “Just call and get it over with.”

Her shaking finger came down hard on the call button. She held the phone to her ear before she could change her mind. For a few seconds, there was no sound and she was just about ready to pull the phone back and make sure she’d actually dialed the number. But before she could, she heard the ring, distant and tinny.

Bia paced the length of the room as the phone rang...four times before an automated attendant picked up. A generic, robotic voice informed her, “The person at this number is not available. Please leave your name and number after the tone.”

Not even a promise that the person would call back at his convenience. But the one thing that robo-attendant did get right was that Hugh was not available—not physically or emotionally.

Bia hung up. No way was she going to leave such a personal message on his voice mail. For that matter, she didn’t even know if the number still belonged to him.

She slumped down on the bed and stared at the phone’s flat black screen.

Now what?

She should’ve known that he wouldn’t pick up. Why would he? It wasn’t as if he’d been waiting for her to call. She half expected to get a call back from his assistant, the one who had offered to pay her off—

That gave her an idea.

She brought up her call log and scrolled through it. Sure enough, there was the assistant’s California number. What if she called him and asked him to have Hugh call her back? That it was a matter of great importance... Yeah, but there was no way she would make it past the guard dog without revealing what the call was about.

Wait a minute.... She stood up. Recently the paper had run a story on a phone app that manufactured disposable cell phone numbers, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember the name of the company. She hadn’t written the story. She’d edited it and probably seventy-five other articles since then. Still, she knew how she could find it. She called up the phone’s browser and typed “how to disguise your cell number.” The first link at the top of the list was for the company the paper had profiled.

She downloaded the app, got a disposable number with a California area code and dialed Hugh again.

Miracle of miracles, he picked up on the second ring.

“Hugh Newman.”

It was now or never.

“Hugh, this is Bia Anderson. From Celebration, Texas.”

There was complete silence on the other end of the line.

“Please don’t hang up. I don’t want anything from you, but I do have to tell you that I’m pregnant and you’re the father.”

She heard him exhale. At least he was still there. He’d gotten the message.

“This is a bad time.” His voice was heavy with annoyance. “I’ll call you back.”


Chapter Three

The message was waiting for Maya when she logged into the Facebook page she had set up for Maya’s Chocolates.



Hello, Maya! I’m so happy to learn that you are opening a shop in the United States. I had the pleasure of tasting your chocolate almost thirty years ago when I was in St. Michel. And sure if it hasn’t been haunting me ever since. I will be in the Dallas area next week and I will stop in and say hello. Charles Jordan



While she wasn’t inundated with fan mail, she did get a piece now and again. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the message. Except for the line, And sure if it hasn’t been haunting me ever since. Something about the turn of those words had been haunting her.

They called to mind a man she had known long ago. Actually, it was about twenty-nine or thirty years ago that Ian had been in her life. Huh. Another coincidence. But he’d disappeared just as fast as he’d appeared and swept her off her feet.

The memory weighed heavily on her heart.

Maya clicked on Charles Jordan’s name, eager to see if she could find any more information on his profile page. But he didn’t have a photo of himself for his profile picture. Instead, he had a generic picture of a snowcapped mountain range.

The page had been created a couple of years ago, but there hadn’t been much activity. There were no other pictures and his list of friends was not open for the public to view.

Maya grappled with an uneasy feeling. Mr. Jordan’s words, And sure if it hasn’t been haunting me ever since, rang in her mind. In her head, she’d heard them in Ian’s voice. They were as clear as if he’d spoken them an hour ago.

Ian Brannigan. Her Irishman. Her love.

He’d simply left one day, never called and never come back. For a long time, she had been so numb she could barely function. Then she had gotten angry. That’s when she’d called his family in Dublin for contact information. Even though several years had passed by that point, Maya had been ready for an explanation. That’s when the real heartbreak started. His mother had delivered the sad news that Ian was dead. He’d died in an accident on his way home from France.

That’s why he’d never called. That’s why the future she’d hoped they would have together never happened. That’s why she’d never been able to fall in love with anyone else.

Ian had taken the largest part of her heart with him on that cold October day. And the rest of it had died nine months later when the nurse took their baby girl from her arms and whisked her away.

She was barely eighteen years old. She wasn’t married, and the baby’s father had obviously abandoned them. Or at least that’s what everyone had thought then. But he hadn’t abandoned them. It was both crushing and vindicating to learn that Ian hadn’t abandoned them. He hadn’t even known that she was carrying his child when he’d kissed her goodbye that last time.

However, that didn’t change the fact that Maya was an unwed teenage mother, a disgrace to her family.

Her mother and grandmother made arrangements for her to go away for a while. She was allowed to come back after the baby was born. That way no one would ever be the wiser, the family name would be saved and they could hold their heads up high.

Maya knew that she could hope all she wanted to, but this Charles Jordan, no matter the imagined similarities, was not her Ian Brannigan.

Once again, Maya clicked on the message balloon icon and reread Charles Jordan’s message. She was just about to type a quick reply when she heard a knock at the front door.

She wasn’t expecting anyone, but she made her way from the kitchen to the front of the store to see who was calling. To her surprise, it was Bia.

Things had ended on such a horrific note the other day that Maya quite honestly thought it would be a very long time before she heard from Bia again.

She gave a friendly wave to test the waters. To her relief, Bia waved back, even if she wasn’t smiling. The wave had to be a good sign. At least she hoped it was. She would find out soon enough, she thought, as she opened the door and greeted Bia with the warmest American greeting she could muster. She didn’t give her the customary French greeting, a kiss on each cheek. She had a feeling she needed to tread lightly.

“Hello!” Maya said. “I am so happy to see you. I wasn’t expecting you after what happened yesterday. I’m so sorry, Bia. But I’m so glad you’ve come back.”

Interesting, Maya pondered. First, I’m thinking of Ian, and now Bia shows up. Perhaps the universe is trying to tell me something.

But given this second chance and how easily Bia was frightened off yesterday, Maya was determined to take things slowly. She would build the relationship before she broke the news.

* * *

“I’m sorry I overreacted yesterday,” Bia said. “But I have to ask—and I need an honest answer—how did you know I’m pregnant?”

Maya shrugged. “Intuition, I suppose.”

“So, it was a lucky guess,” Bia replied.

“If that’s what you would prefer to call it. Shall we go into the kitchen where we can sit down and talk? I’ll make you a cup of hot chocolate. You need your calcium.”

Bia held her ground. “First, I need your word that you will not tell a soul about this. If you think the media went crazy when they thought Hugh and I were seeing each other, this will blow up in both of our faces. Especially after he lied about the nature of our...acquaintance.”

Maya’s brow creased in a look of what seemed to be genuine concern. “Of course you have my word. This is a very private matter. I want you to know that I am here for you. I promise I will not do anything to put you or your baby in emotional jeopardy.”

“I need to ask you something, and, again, you must give me an honest answer.”

Maya nodded. “Please. Anything.”

“Have you ever said anything to the press about my previous relationship with Hugh Newman?”

Maya recoiled and looked genuinely shocked by the question. A good sign, as far as Bia was concerned. Still, she had to look Maya in the eyes as she asked. Just as Maya had a sixth sense about people, Bia could intuit when people were lying. Bia’s gut was telling her that Maya was telling the truth.

Maya put her right hand over her heart. “I swear to you. I have not said one word. I did see the two of you together at the Doctor’s Ball, but I would never gossip about you. I would swear this on my mother’s and grandmother’s graves.”

“Thank you, Maya. I believe you. And I believe that you will keep your word about not talking to a soul other than me about my current situation.”

Maya held up her right hand. “I solemnly swear. Now, let’s have some hot chocolate. Yes?”

Maya’s version of hot chocolate was like nothing Bia had ever tasted before. It was nearly as thick as melted chocolate and tasted so good it curled Bia’s toes.

Le chocolat chaud, Maya called it.

Bia called it divine. She had to pace herself to keep from gulping it. To that end, she tried to employ some of the tasting principles that Maya had taught her yesterday. She sipped the drink and let the warm liquid flow over her tongue.

“Umm, is that cinnamon I taste?”

Maya nodded.

“There’s something else I can’t quite identify....” Bia closed her eyes and rolled the liquid around on her palate.

“I added a tiny dash of cayenne and a few flecks of fleur de sel.”

“Salt and pepper,” Bia noted wryly.

Maya laughed her laugh that seemed to set Bia at ease, and the world seemed a little brighter. Bia didn’t have many close girlfriends. She’d always related better to guys. She simply didn’t enjoy the drama that always seemed to go hand in hand with women. On occasion, Bia had been accused of being too direct—one of the qualities that made her a good reporter, of course. But Maya hadn’t been offended by Bia’s head-on approach. Come to think of it, Maya had been pretty direct herself yesterday.

At least they understood each other.

“Have you had a chance to think about what you’re going to do?” Maya asked.

“About?”

“The baby, of course.”

“I’m having this baby. I’m twenty-eight years old. I can handle it. I was adopted. Actually, I just found out a few months ago, just before my adoptive father passed away. I had a good childhood despite my adoptive mother dying when I was five. Her husband—my father—never remarried. So, essentially, I grew up without a mother. My father was very good to me, but I can’t help but wonder lately why my birth mother didn’t want me. I have no information about her. I’m not sure whether I should go digging or not.”

“I’m sure she would be thrilled to connect with you,” Maya said. “At least you’ll never know until you try.”

“What? Is that your intuition speaking? I can’t be sure that she would be thrilled. I mean, she gave me up. For all I know, she might have a family of her own. They might not know about me. I might be that unwelcome surprise from her past popping up at the most inopportune time.”

“But you can’t be certain of that, either. For all you know, you could be missing out on a second chance at family.”

Bia shrugged. “But there’s no way to know that for certain.”

“There’s no way to know that you won’t walk out of here and get hit by a car, but the likelihood of disaster is slim. What I’m saying is, if you are open to having your birth mother in your life— Are you?”

Bia nodded.

“Good, then keep an open mind. I think it would be especially important to meet her now that you have a little one on the way. For that matter, have you talked to the father?”

Bia grimaced. “I spoke to Hugh briefly. Told him the situation. He told me it wasn’t a good time to talk and that he would call me back. But he hasn’t. I don’t really expect him to.”

Thoughtfully, Maya ran her finger around the rim of her demitasse cup. “At the risk of—how do you say it—sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong? Hugh Newman may be the father of your child, but he is not the right man for you.”

“Story of my life,” Bia murmured.

“Make no mistake, there is someone out there for you. He is already in your life. You simply must learn to see what is right in front of you.”

* * *

Thursday afternoon, Aiden was leaning against his car, which was parked in the lot of Bia’s doctor, waiting for her to arrive.

When she finally did, she got out of her car and said, “Aiden, you’re here? I told you not to come.”

Her words said one thing, but the way she said them confirmed that he’d been right to not let her face her first doctor’s appointment alone.

“I thought you might want some moral support.”

She smiled. “I’m a big girl, Aiden. I can handle this.” Then she hugged him and whispered, “Thanks for being here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He put his arm around her as they walked from the parking lot into the lobby. To the untrained eye, they probably looked like a happy couple eager to get the lowdown on their first child. He could play that role, especially if Hugh wasn’t going to.

“Have you heard from Hugh?”

She stiffened, pulled away ever so slightly. “No. But he knows. And he knows how to reach me and where to find me.”

“Ball’s in his court, then,” Aiden said as he opened the office door and stood back so Bia could enter.

Two other women, both obviously further along in their pregnancies than Bia, waited. Both had men with them, and Aiden was instantly reassured that he’d made the right decision to come along. No doubt Bia would’ve soldiered through on her own, but she shouldn’t have to face this alone.

“I’m going to go sign in,” she said. “Go ahead and sit down and I’ll be right back...with mountains of paperwork, no doubt.”

He sat down in a chair across from one of the couples. The woman looked as if she were smuggling a basketball under her dress. Aiden looked away, trying to imagine what Bia would look like that far along. She’d be gorgeous.

“Is this your first child?” the woman asked.

“Uhh...” Obviously, she’d caught him staring. But she didn’t seem annoyed or put off. Her husband was reading the newspaper and didn’t seem to notice that Aiden had been scoping out his wife’s belly. Good thing.

Rather than dive headlong into an explanation, he simply said, “Yes. It is.” After all, he hadn’t been party to another pregnancy before. She hadn’t asked him if he was the father.

“Congratulations to you and your wife.” She beamed at him and clasped her hands over her belly. “You have some exciting months ahead of you. Years actually. Kids will change your life.”

Yep. So I’ve heard.

He nodded. Pondering the thought of Bia as his wife as she walked toward him, clipboard in hand. She stirred in him a feeling that was equal parts primal lust and Cro-Magnon protective. He’d always been attracted to her. Hell, if he were honest with himself, he’d admit that he’d always been in love with Bia Anderson.

He just hadn’t been able to admit it to himself until his roommate Duane had taken an interest in her at that party their freshman year of college. He couldn’t remember who threw the party or what the occasion was, but he would never forget what she looked like standing there kissing Duane. At that moment, something inside him shifted and snapped into place. By the time he finally woke up and realized what had been under his nose all his life, she was off-limits. So, Aiden had settled for a friendship because it was better to have her in his life under restricted terms than not at all.

Duane never had treated her right. He used to think Aiden was joking when he said things like, “Too bad you saw her first, man,” and “If you don’t treat her right, I’m going to take her away from you.” They would all laugh and then Aiden would try to get interested in some other girl. Inevitably, those relationships never worked out. Bia thought he was the world’s biggest player. And he would laugh it off and say, “None of them compare to you.”

And she thought he was joking.

He’d come here, taken the Catering to Dallas gig, to be near her. Things had been going well between them. The best way to describe them was platonic with chemistry. They were solid, and he wanted to take things slowly, let the relationship develop naturally. And then Hugh Newman came to town, proving it had been a dumb idea to take things slowly. It had been a grave miscalculation to not move at the speed of Hugh.

As Bia sat down in the chair next to him, the nurse called back the woman who had been talking to him—Sandra something...he hadn’t caught her last name.

“Good luck, you two,” she said as she and her husband walked toward the waiting nurse. “This truly is the beginning of the happiest time of your lives.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Nice talking to you.”

“Making friends, already?” Bia murmured. “You are such a flirt.”

“I wasn’t flirting,” he said. “I was just being cordial. They think we’re married.”

Bia rolled her eyes at him. “Obviously they don’t know who they’re dealing with. You, with your commitment allergy. I’m surprised that you didn’t run screaming for the door after she said that.”

“That hurts, B. Like a stab right through the heart. You know I’m committed to you. You’re the only woman in the world for me.”

She made a tsking sound and gave his arm a little shove and muttered, “Spare me.” Then she refocused on her paperwork, but she was smiling as she wrote. He noticed that she had left the spot on the form that asked for the name of the child’s father blank. He thought about asking her what, if anything, she was going to tell the doctor, but he decided to wait until after the appointment.

“Obviously, we make a good couple,” he said. “We fooled them.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to the grand illusion. When a man and a woman come to an OB-GYN office together, they’re usually involved. We just happen to be part of the slim minority who aren’t.”

“We should stop pretending and get married, Bia.”

She didn’t look up from her paperwork, but she laughed. “Says he who is allergic to monogamy. Don’t joke about marriage, Aiden. Some things are sacred.”

“Who says I’m joking?”

This time she pierced him with an exasperated look. “Settle down and quit distracting me. I have to finish filling out this paperwork before they call me back.” She started writing again. “Besides, you don’t have a ring. You can’t propose to a woman without a ring.”

He pretended to pat down his pockets, looking for a ring. “Touché. You got me there.”

She did have him. Heart and soul. He’d never realized just how deep his feelings for her ran until recently. If only he could tell her without the comedy routine. Easier said than done.

A few minutes later, the nurse called Bia back.

Aiden followed her to the door. “I haven’t finished my paperwork,” she said.

“That’s not a problem,” the nurse said. “Maybe your husband could finish filling it out for you while we’re getting you ready to see the doctor?”

“He’s not my husband,” Bia said.

The nurse smiled, and she looked from Bia to Aiden. “Well, okay. Do you want him to come back with you?”

She asked the question as if he would be entering a restricted-access area.

“Oh...” Bia glanced at Aiden and then back to the nurse. “I guess he can wait out here. Would you mind, Aiden?”

“Probably a good idea.” The nurse smiled at him and took a step closer. “The first visit is always the longest. The doctor will want to go over the genetic history of your family and that of the baby’s father. It will take a while, but if you’d like to wait, let’s get you something to drink—would you like coffee? A soda?”

He felt Bia pull away from him emotionally. She had a strange look on her face, and he wasn’t sure why. Probably just nerves. This was suddenly becoming very real, and she wanted to go back there alone.

“Aiden, I’m fine. Why don’t you go back to work? There’s no sense in you waiting.”

“I don’t mind. You might need me.”

She softened, but the wall was still in place. That same wall that kept him a safe, platonic distance away. “It was so sweet of you to come. But really, I’m fine. Please go.”

* * *

The nurse left Bia standing there while she fetched coffee for Aiden.

How utterly unprofessional. If the woman hadn’t been wielding needles—once she’d made sure Aiden was comfortable—Bia might have schooled her on the meaning of a proper time and a place for everything. When a woman was walking through the door for her first obstetric appointment, it definitely wasn’t the time or the place for the nurse to flirt with the man who had accompanied the pregnant woman. Just because he wasn’t her husband didn’t mean he was fair game.




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