“What’s Your Name?”
J.T. asked the woman who’d arrived on his doorstep in the middle of a blizzard.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
J.T. strained to hear the words. “How’d you get here?”
“I guess my car skidded off the road and into a ditch. I walked from there. My head hurts.”
“I’ll call the doctor right away. You’re going to have to trust me,” he added.
“I’m also…pregnant.”
J.T.’s eyes zoomed in on her very large belly. She’d walked half a mile in a snowstorm in her condition? His gaze slid up to her face. Shock spread fast and far inside him.
He knew her. The very pregnant woman without a memory was Gina Banning, a part of his past that he’d almost laid to rest….
Dear Reader,
Silhouette is celebrating its 20th anniversary throughout 2000! So, to usher in the first summer of the millennium, why not indulge yourself with six powerful, passionate, provocative love stories from Silhouette Desire?
Jackie Merritt returns to Desire with a MAN OF THE MONTH who’s Tough To Tame. Enjoy the sparks that fly between a rugged ranch manager and the feisty lady who turns his world upside down! Another wonderful romance from RITA Award winner Caroline Cross is in store for you this month with The Rancher and the Nanny, in which a rags-to-riches hero learns trust and love from the riches-to-rags woman who cares for his secret child.
Watch for Meagan McKinney’s The Cowboy Meets His Match—an octogenarian matchmaker sets up an ice-princess heiress with a virile rodeo star. The Desire theme promotion THE BABY BANK, about sperm-bank client heroines who find love unexpectedly, concludes with Susan Crosby’s The Baby Gift. Wonderful newcomer Sheri WhiteFeather offers another irresistible Native American hero with Cheyenne Dad. And Kate Little’s hero reunites with his lost love in a marriage of convenience to save her from financial ruin in The Determined Groom.
So come join in the celebration and start your summer off on the supersensual side—by reading all six of these tantalizing Desire books!
Enjoy!
Joan Marlow Golan
Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire
The Baby Gift
Susan Crosby
For Debbie Swanson, who so graciously shares her
daughter with me, with love and admiration for the
amazing person you are.
And for Melissa Jeglinski once again.
My stalwart editor. You’re simply the best.
SUSAN CROSBY
believes in the value of setting goals, but also in the magic of making wishes. Ascribing to the theory that the “harder you work, the luckier you get,” she has been fortunate enough to receive Romantic Times Magazine’s Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best Silhouette Desire of the Year, as well as being a finalist for the Romance Writers of America RITA Award. Her books appear regularly on the bestseller lists.
Susan earned a B.A. in English while raising her sons, now grown. She and her husband live in the central valley of California, the land of wine grapes, asparagus and almonds. Her checkered past includes jobs as a synchronized swimming instructor, personnel interviewer at a toy factory and trucking company manager, but her current occupation as a writer is her all-time favorite. Readers are welcome to write to her at P.O. Box 1836, Lodi, CA 95241.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
One
Police Chief J.T. Ryker couldn’t sleep. He supposed it was the quiet that had awakened him, a sense of something being different. His heart wasn’t thundering from the old nightmare but from an indefinable sensation—like holding your breath and listening hard, anticipation building and building until it just had to explode.
J.T. no longer questioned gut feelings. He climbed out of bed and looked out the window. Three hours ago he’d overseen the town’s less-raucous-than-usual New Year’s Eve celebration that ended at precisely midnight when snow began to fall.
What filled his sight now was a blizzard.
He ignored his uniform in favor of warmer clothes, then headed out the door with Deputy, the beagle he’d inherited with the job. He carried the dog through the snow until they reached Main Street, then Deputy led the way, happy for a middle-of-the-night trek through town. Protected by a wooden awning, they patrolled their little corner of the world, making sure it was safe.
The dog’s nails clip-clip-clipped along the wood-plank walkway of downtown. Accustomed to his owner’s routine, the beagle stopped at the first shop and pressed his nose to the glass door. J.T. turned the handle and sighed. Mrs. Foley had left the front door to her fabric, craft and ladies’ undergarments shop unlocked again, even though he’d reminded her at midnight. Three doors down, in Aaron Taylor’s hardware and auto parts store, no telltale red beam flashed. Aaron hadn’t activated the security alarm—again.
J.T. tried to educate them, but they remained blissfully stubborn about potential dangers, no matter how farfetched the possibility. The biggest crime they’d seen recently was a spate of graffiti vandalism, and that hard-boiled perpetrator had been identified by his mother, who’d recognized his handwriting and dragged him in to accept his punishment.
It was a far cry from J.T.’s nine years on the L.A.P.D. A year’s worth of crime in this mountain community wouldn’t fill a week’s log in the smallest L.A. substation. It suited J.T. just fine, especially since he was the only paid police officer, as well as the fire chief and all-around public servant. In a town of 514 residents, with houses scattered over miles of varying terrain, he never had a dull moment. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a day off. In September, maybe?
Hunching against the wind, he stuck his hands deeper in his jacket pockets. “A little trip to the tropics sound good to you?” he asked the dog trotting beside him. “Want to get out of that dumb-looking sweater and into a pair of swim trunks?”
Deputy barked once—J.T. always took that as a yes—then the dog went still as a post, his ears pricked up. After a couple of seconds he charged off.
J.T. looked ahead and spotted a heap in front of his office. Old John, he supposed. Too drunk to know he could die of hypothermia on a night like this. Too drunk to pick up the phone hanging by the office door, a direct line to J.T. at home.
Deputy’s tail wagged like a metronome at top speed, his rear end moving almost as fast. A woman’s soft laughter drifted with the wind as J.T. neared his office.
“I’m awake, dog. Stop licking my face.”
Her