A Baby for the Bachelor. Victoria Pade
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“I’m sorry if I brought up bad memories tonight,” Noah said.
“It’s OK.” Marti assured.
He smiled. “Great date, huh?”
“You do know how to show a girl a good time.”
Noah tilted her face ever so slightly upward as he leaned in and met her mouth with his. Her arms went around him. His hand moved from her face to cradle the back of her head as his mouth opened even wider over hers. His tongue plundered and claimed and made her his, kissing her until nothing existed but the two of them and that kiss that drew her in, absorbed her and breathed new life into her all at once.
Available in July 2010
from Mills & Boon® Special Moments™
From Friends to Forever by Karen Templeton & The Family He Wanted by Karen Sandler
Baby By Surprise by Karen Rose Smith & Daddy by Surprise by Debra Salonen
A Kid to the Rescue by Susan Gable & Then Comes Baby by Helen Brenna
The Sheikh and the Bought Bride by Susan Mallery
A Cold Creek Homecoming by RaeAnne Thayne
A Baby for the Bachelor by Victoria Pade
The Baby Album by Roz Denny Fox
A Baby for the
Bachelor
BY
Victoria Pade
Victoria Pade is a native of Colorado, where she continues to live and work. Her passion – besides writing – is chocolate, which she indulges in frequently and in every form. She loves romance novels and romantic movies – the more lighthearted the better – but she likes a good, juicy mystery now and then, too.
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Chapter One
“Wake up, Marti. I think we’re close and I need guidance.”
Marti Grayson opened her eyes at the sound of her brother’s voice and sat up from her slump against the inside of his car door.
“Sorry. I wasn’t much company, was I?”
“None,” Ry said good-naturedly. “You fell asleep two miles from Missoula and you’ve been out ever since.”
“That’s been happening a lot lately. I’m told it comes with the territory—pregnancy hormones or something,” she said before focusing her attention outside of the vehicle. “Northbridge?” she asked.
“That’s what the sign said. But you tell me, you’re the one who’s been here before.”
“For one night, three weeks ago. I got in late that Monday afternoon and left Tuesday morning.”
Still, as Ry drove down Main Street in the small Montana town she recognized it as the street she’d driven in—and out—on.
“Take a right when you get to South Street,” she instructed. “Gram’s house is the last one before South Street goes out into farm- and ranchland. The driveway veers up a steep hill to the house.”
In mid-April their elderly grandmother had escaped her nurse and surprised everyone by making her way to Northbridge. Theresa Hobbs Grayson had been born and raised there. The three grandchildren who made sure she was cared for in her mentally and emotionally unstable state hadn’t known about the town or the house before that. But because Theresa was determined to remain there now, her grandchildren—Marti, Ry and the third triplet, Wyatt—were accommodating her.
Wyatt had been the first to come to Northbridge after Theresa was discovered in the old abandoned house. The plan had been for Marti, Ry and Wyatt to rotate spending time there with Theresa. But when Marti had arrived to relieve Wyatt, Wyatt had suddenly decided he wasn’t leaving. He was going to relocate permanently in order to marry the local social worker who had been Theresa’s case manager with Human Services.
Marti had needed to do a fast turnaround to get back to Missoula and the headquarters of Home-Max—the chain of large home-improvement stores owned by the Gray sons. She’d had to take over for Wyatt there and so had not seen anything of Northbridge except what she’d driven through.
Now Wyatt was about to marry Neily Pratt and so both Marti and Ry were making the trip.
Ry had followed her directions and the house came into view in the distance. “Is that it?” he asked.
“That’s it,” Marti confirmed.
“It’s a lot bigger than I thought,” he said of the stately stone house that stood a tall two stories.
“I told you it was,” Marti said. “The inside is goodsized, too, but barely livable.”
“Who’s that?” Ry interjected as they got closer. “Not Wyatt.”
The house had a wide covered porch that ran the entire front and wrapped around one side to stretch all the way to the rear. Near the corner of the wraparound there was a man hanging a wooden bench seat that hung from chains.
His back was to them but Marti couldn’t help noticing that it was quite a back—he was wearing jeans and a white T-shirt so tight it might as well have been painted on his V-shaped torso and shoulders that were a mile wide and extremely well muscled.
“That must be the contractor Wyatt hired to work on the place,” Marti said, taking in what was undeniably an impressive view—especially when she factored in the narrow waist, tight rear end and long, thick legs.
“Noah Perry—isn’t that his name?” she went on. “I never got a chance to meet him.