The plane’s engine roared to life.
“You can do anything you want.” Lee’s voice glided along his senses. “Long as you don’t touch the controls.”
Pinching his eyes shut, he folded his arms, tried not to clutch the fabric of his suit coat.
Perspiration dampened his forehead. His stomach whirled.
“I’m right beside you,” Lee said into the headphones when the plane began to move.
He listened to her voice while she gave their coordinates to the Seattle tower, and the plane skimmed the ocean, lifted, buzzed into the sky.
He listened to the tone of her words more than their meaning. That assured tone. The quiet, steady tone.
And when he bit the inside of his cheek, he felt her fingers curve around his forearm. “You’ll be okay with me.”
And in that heartbeat, Rogan believed her.
He really did.
MILLS & BOON
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Dear Reader,
In this second installment of my HOME TO FIREWOOD ISLAND miniseries, I wanted to write about a woman working in a predominantly male field. So I made my heroine a pilot, though not just any pilot. She flies single-prop seaplanes across mountains, canyons and forests…and lands on rivers, lakes, fjords and inlets.
And Baby Makes Four is her story. However, Lee Tait—eldest of the three sisters on Firewood Island—has come to a roadblock in her life. She must piece together her past with a man who could tear apart her future—or chance losing every dream. Will she take the ultimate risk?
Warm wishes,
Mary
PS—Their Secret Child (Addie’s story and first in the series) is available at online bookstores. Details about Kat—the third sister—are on my Web site at www.maryjforbes.com.
And Baby Makes Four
Mary J. Forbes
MARY J. FORBES
Her rural prairie roots granted Mary J. Forbes a deep love of nature and small towns, a love that’s often reflected in the settings of her books. Today, she lives with her family in the Pacific Northwest where she also teaches school, nurtures her garden and walks or jogs in any weather. Readers can contact Mary at www.maryjforbes.com.
With many thanks to my editor, Susan Litman
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
Epilogue
Chapter One
The man stood watching her in the early-April twilight.
Had he been alone, Lee Tait might have worried. This was, after all, the third time in as many days he stopped to observe her tinker on the Cessna 206 seaplane docked at the end of the boardwalk that curved within Burnt Bend’s tiny cove. As before, the child accompanied him, a boy of perhaps six or seven whose dusty blond hair caught the sun’s setting rays. His eyes, Lee noted, were plate-round with curiosity.
Still, the guy’s presence—yet again—couldn’t stop the cold sluice of adrenaline down her torso. What did he want? Why didn’t he continue along the shoreline path, which extended from the marina and wended past a smattering of cottages before looping back into the village, a distance of a quarter mile?
Why stop each time to stare at her for five minutes, and then turn around?
He stood in the fading light, rangy as a mountain climber, attired in gray cords, brown boat shoes and a black pullover. Except for a pair of gym shoes, the child emulated the dress code.
Obviously, father and son.
Two peas in a pod, her mother would say—if Lee explained the strange visitations to Charmaine. Which she would not.
The boy murmured something and, while low and indistinct, she heard the man’s quiet response drift down the wooden dock.
Trying to avoid the duo, she opened the seaplane’s door, stepped on the pontoon and hopped inside for a final check before tomorrow’s flight across the Puget Sound.
Last fall, she had signed a year’s contract with the Burnt Bend post office to courier expedited mail and parcels to the mainland. The daily service ensured a steady paycheck, while weekend visitors and tourists to the region kept her fledgling charter company viable. One day soon—when she could afford rising fuel costs—she hoped to include a scheduled weekday passenger service.
Lee winced at the thought. Cutting into Lucien Duvall’s passengers-only ferry service would not make the old guy happy.
Hopefully, when the time came, they’d be able to work something out.
Scanning for forgotten items left by passengers, she thought how the Cessna was the only good thing to come from her ex-husband. She hadn’t selected the best of his Abner Air fleet out of spite, or because he’d impregnated that cocktail waitress three years ago.
