“I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to speak to me again.”
“Jen.” Matt couldn’t stand to see her so upset. “I’m not about to stop speaking to you. This isn’t about me.”
“Actually, yes, it kind of is. I told you my ex’s father asked me who my fiancé was. I had to come up with someone. Quick.” She snapped her fingers in rapid succession. “I barely had a second to catch my breath, much less think before I spoke.”
“Y-yes…?”
“I just told him the first name I thought of.”
“Which was…?”
Matt’s phone rang, much to his irritation. His inclination had been to ignore it, but he couldn’t very well do that if it might be for Jen. He’d barely answered when his father’s voice boomed, “Just what are you thinking, getting a girl in trouble, planning a shotgun wedding and not even letting your own father know about it?”
A Pregnant Proposal
Elizabeth Harbison
To my Paige and Jack, and to the man who is a hero to us all, John.
Books by Elizabeth Harbison
Silhouette Romance
A Groom for Maggie #1239
Wife Without a Past #1258
Two Brothers and a Bride #1286
True Love Ranch #1323
*Emma and the Earl #1410
*Plain Jane Marries the Boss #1416
*Annie and the Prince #1423
*His Secret Heir #1528
A Pregnant Proposal #1553
ELIZABETH HARBISON
has been an avid reader for as long as she can remember. After devouring the Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden series in grade school, she moved on to the suspense of Mary Stewart, Dorothy Eden and Daphne du Maurier, just to name a few. From there is was a natural progression to writing, although early efforts have been securely hidden away in the back of a closet.
After authoring three cookbooks, Elizabeth turned her hand to writing romances and hasn’t looked back. Her second book for Silhouette Romance, Wife Without a Past, was a 1998 finalist for the Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA Award in the “Best Traditional Romance” category.
Elizabeth lives in Maryland with her husband, John, daughter, Mary Paige, and son, Jack, as well as two dogs, Bailey and Zuzu. She loves to hear from readers and you can write to her c/o Box 1636, Germantown, MD 20875.
KANE HALEY
Note to self: Who’s having my baby?
Trudy—hopeless romantic, office gossip, can’t keep a secret. If it’s not her, she might know who it is!
Lauren Connor—dates a lot, trying out new looks to impress her boss, was out sick with stomach flu. Hmm…
Sharon Davies—recently trapped in an elevator with a major client, blushes whenever he’s around, looking a little green lately. Could she be carrying my baby?
Leila—makes eyes at me. Is it more than a crush?
Maggie Steward—my personal assistant, wants children, clock is ticking. She would never go to a sperm bank!
Julia Parker—worries that her endometriosis could make her infertile. No man in her life. Definite sperm bank material!
Jennifer Martin—eight months pregnant. Is it her late fiancé’s baby? Is it mine?
WHEN THE LIGHTS WENT OUT…
A PREGNANT PROPOSAL
THE MAKEOVER TAKEOVER
LAST CHANCE FOR BABY
SHE’S HAVING MY BABY!
KANE HALEY, INC.
CHICAGO, IL
Contents
Prologue
“I’m sorry.” Jennifer Martin dabbed at her teary eyes with a tissue and tried to hold back a sob. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“You don’t know what’s wrong?” her friend, Susan Bane, repeated incredulously. “Five weeks ago your fiancé died during a tête-à-tête in the Caribbean—with a married woman, no less—and you don’t know why you’re upset?”
Jen blew her nose and tried to get comfortable on the stiff leather couch Philip had insisted was more “elegant” than the cozy down one she’d preferred. It was one more thing to be irritated with him about, and that irritation with a dead man was one more thing to feel guilty about. Lately that was the way her emotions chased each other around; first anger, then sadness, then guilt.
“Okay,” Jen said, taking a bottle of antacids off the side table and popping one of them into her mouth. It tasted chalky and disgusting, but she forced it down. “Obviously I have things to be upset about, but lately I’ve been just sobbing at the drop of a hat and it’s never for one clear reason. It seems to be getting worse, not better.”
Susan leaned over from her chair and patted Jen’s forearm, concern etched in her features. “Honey, I had no idea it was still so bad. Do you want me to stay here with you for a few days?”
Jen managed a smile. “Thanks, but I don’t think it would make much difference. Besides, the kids need you at home.” She blew her nose. “I’ll just wait it out and hope it gets better.”
“Have you thought about getting professional help?”
Jen waved the idea away with her hand.
Susan persisted. “All right, then, maybe just some straight