“Would you like to come in?” Hank said
The woman standing on his front porch was downright gorgeous. And gorgeous women did not routinely come calling. Not to his door, at least.
“Hank Ballantyne,” she said.
He nodded. She was looking for him.
“I’m Natalie Lawson,” she went on. “There’s something I need to discuss with you. I just…where’s your little boy?”
She knew he had a son. Okay, then, she’d done some homework. “My housekeeper took him shopping.…But you aren’t here to talk about my son.”
“Actually, I am.”
“Oh?” He glanced at her briefcase, an uneasy feeling creeping up his spine. “Because…?”
Instead of replying, she opened her briefcase, pulled out a spiral-bound document and handed it to him. The title page read, “Final Report on Benjamin Lawson-Garcia.”
She bit on her lower lip for a moment before saying, “I’ve spent days trying to think of some way to lessen the shock. There isn’t one, though.…My Benjamin is your Robbie.”
Hank could feel the panic growing inside him. There was only one reason Natalie Lawson had come here. To get Robbie back!
Dear Reader,
Hank Ballantyne first appeared in my October 2000 Superromance novel, The Man Behind the Badge. He was the partner and best friend of that book’s hero, Travis Quinn, and long before I’d finished writing about Travis and Celeste, I’d grown to like Hank so much that I wanted to tell his story.
Initially, I had no idea what it was. All I really knew about him was that he was a single father with an adopted three-year-old son, Robbie, whom he adored. But what if…?
This is the magic phrase for writers. We take the little bit we know about our unwritten story and play “what if” in our heads.
In this case, it wasn’t long before an absolutely gut-wrenching “what if” occurred to me. What if Robbie’s “dead” birth mother suddenly appeared—very much alive and wanting her child back?
That’s what happens at the beginning of His Child or Hers? And it sets up a conflict that tears at all three characters’ emotions throughout the book.
I hope you enjoy reading about how they come to terms with an extremely difficult situation.
Warmest regards,
Dawn Stewardson
His Child or Hers?
Dawn Stewardson
To John, always
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
With special thanks to two fellow Harlequin authors for answering numerous questions during the writing of this book:
Marisa Carroll provided the medical information I needed. Illona Haus, who writes as Morgan Hayes, was (as always) my expert on homicide detectives.
They made my research considerably easier, and I sincerely appreciate their generosity.
I also want to thank Michele Billung-Meyer, for being so in tune with the psychosocial development of children—and for sharing her sense of how Robbie and Emma would react as the story unfolded.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
NOT FAR FROM Guatemala City’s main plaza, the taxi turned down a narrow street, then stopped in front of a tired old colonial building.
Her hands trembling a little, Natalie paid the driver and climbed out. As he pulled away, she stood gazing at the words carved in stone above the doorway. Orfanato de las Hermanas de Socorro.
Sisters of Mercy Orphanage. Where her baby had spent the past four months. Being cared for by strangers.
She closed her eyes, not wanting to think about all the nights she’d lain awake in her hospital bed, the ache to hold Benjamin worse than any of the pains from her injuries.
But that was over. Now she was well enough to take him home, to what was left of the town of Villa Rosa, and start rebuilding their lives.
Lives without Carlos.
Blinking back the tears suddenly stinging her eyes, she told herself she was lucky she hadn’t lost both her husband and her son in the earthquake. And lucky she’d survived.
If there’d been no plane to transport the critically injured to the capital city, she wouldn’t be alive today.
She was, though. And she was about to reclaim her son.
Brushing her hair back from her face, she started toward the front door, her excitement tinged with a trace of apprehension that she simply hadn’t been able to shake.
From the first moment she’d been lucid enough to understand what people were saying, they’d assured her Benjamin was fine, that he’d escaped with only cuts and scrapes.
Even so, she wouldn’t entirely believe it until she saw for herself. Until she held him and hugged him. Smelled his sweet baby smell and felt the soft smoothness of his skin.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped into the orphanage. It reminded her of the ancient grade school she’d attended as a child—a worn slate floor at its entrance and, beyond that, a broad staircase consisting of half a dozen stone stairs.
In