Baby, You're Mine

“Doc? Has Someone Staked A Claim On You?”

Elizabeth blinked at him in confusion. “What?”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“There was,” she said quietly, then sighed and turned back to meet his gaze. “But not any longer.”

Relief washed through Woodrow in waves. Pushing off the porch, he stood and drew her up to stand opposite him. “Good. Because I sure wouldn’t want someone to come gunning for me.”

“Why would anyone come—”

Before she could finish the question, he slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her hips to him. As her gaze met his, he saw the passion that smoked her eyes, as well as the wonder. “Doc?”

“Yes?”

“Last night I slept with you. Held you. I can’t do that tonight. Not without making love with you.”

Dear Reader,

Thank you for choosing Silhouette Desire—where passion is guaranteed in every read. Things sure are heating up with our continuing series DYNASTIES: THE BARONES. Eileen Wilks’s With Private Eyes is a powerful romance that helps set the stage for the daring conclusion next month. And if it’s more continuing stories that you want—we have them. TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB: THE STOLEN BABY launches this month with Sara Orwig’s Entangled with a Texan.

The wonderful Peggy Moreland is on hand to dish up her share of Texas humor and heat with Baby, You’re Mine, the next installment of her TANNERS OF TEXAS series. Be sure to catch Peggy’s Silhouette Single Title, Tanner’s Millions, on sale January 2004. Award-winning author Jennifer Greene marks her much-anticipated return to Silhouette Desire with Wild in the Field, the first book in her series THE SCENT OF LAVENDER.

Also for your enjoyment this month, we offer Katherine Garbera’s second book in the KING OF HEARTS series. Cinderella’s Christmas Affair is a fabulous “it could happen to you” plot guaranteed to leave her fans extremely satisfied. And rounding out our selection of delectable stories is Awakening Beauty by Amy J. Fetzer, a steamy, sensational tale.

More passion to you!

Melissa Jeglinski

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

Baby, You’re Mine

Peggy Moreland

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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PEGGY MORELAND

published her first romance with Silhouette in 1989 and continues to delight readers with stories set in her home state of Texas. Winner of the National Readers’ Choice Award, a nominee for the Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Award and a two-time finalist for the prestigious RITA® Award, Peggy has frequently appeared on the USA TODAY and Waldenbooks’s bestseller lists. When not writing, you can usually find Peggy outside, tending the cattle, goats and other critters on the ranch she shares with her husband. You may write to Peggy at P.O. Box 1099, Florence, TX 76527-1099, or e-mail her at [e-mail].

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Epilogue

One

Cantankerous. That’s what polite folks called Woodrow Tanner. Less courteous ones used a riper, more colorful word, one not often used in the presence of women or within hearing distance of the preacher. But Woodrow didn’t give a tinker’s damn what people called him and less what they thought of him as a person. He did as he damn well pleased and to hell with anyone who disapproved.

He owned seven hundred and fifty acres of prime ranch land southwest of Tanner’s Crossing and lived in a log house he’d built dead-center in the property. He’d placed it there for the sole purpose of putting as much distance as possible from himself and his neighbors. Other than a blue-heeler dog that insisted on sleeping at the foot of his bed, he lived alone and planned to keep it that way. His biggest beefs in life—and the ones sure to put him in a bad mood—were large crowds, big cities and traffic jams that consisted of anything more than a couple of farm trucks trapped behind a slow-moving tractor. Since he was currently crawling at a snail’s pace down Dallas, Texas’s Central Expressway, his normal cantankerous mood was registering on the dangerous side of the scale.

If his brother Ace had been within grabbing distance, he would’ve gladly blacked one of his eyes, maybe even bloodied his nose, for sending him on this wild goose chase. Not that Woodrow had willingly accepted the assignment. He’d cussed and kicked aplenty, demanding that one of the other Tanner brothers make the trip instead. But Ace had sworn that Woodrow was the only one available, claiming that Ry couldn’t spare the time from his surgical practice, and Rory was out of town, buying the next season’s goods for his chain of country western stores. Ace hadn’t offered an excuse for Whit and Woodrow hadn’t bothered to ask for one. Whit’s stepbrother status exempted him from most family obligations, an immunity that Woodrow resented more than a little.

So, in the end, it was Woodrow who was elected to travel to Dallas to take care of a little family business.

But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Ahead, he saw his exit and bullied his dually truck into the far right lane. Once free of the expressway and the cars clogging it, he relaxed a little and checked his directions again. Two more rights and a left and he was pulling into a parking space in front of a modern, five-story building. He shuddered at all the metal and glass towering before him. Personally he preferred natural materials. Stone. Wood. Brick was all right if used to construct a commercial building, such as a post office or a bank. But anything beyond those three materials, he considered a defamation to the landscape, an eyesore, something better suited for someplace like, say…Mars.

With his mood growing darker by the minute, he climbed from his truck and headed for the building’s entrance. Once inside, he checked the directory, then took the elevator to the fifth floor. He found the door marked Elizabeth Montgomery, Pediatrician, and pushed it open. Without a glance to either side, he strode straight for the reception window and rapped his knuckles against the glass.

A woman glanced up from her work, then higher, until her gaze met his. Her eyes widened and her jaw sagged. Woodrow was accustomed to the reaction. The Tanner men were known for their size and their looks and generally created a stir with women, intended or not.

Slowly the woman stood and rolled back the window. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah. I need to see Dr. Montgomery.”

She leaned to peer around him, as if she expected to find someone hiding behind him. Someone decidedly smaller. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No. This is personal.”

Her brows drew together. “Is the doctor expecting you?”

“No.”

“If you’ll give me your name, I’ll tell her you’re here.”

“Woodrow Tanner.”

She took a step back, her wide-eyed gaze fixed on his. “Wait just a minute. I’ll be right back.”

Woodrow watched her whirl and all but run down the hall. At the end, she rapped sharply on a door, then opened it and slipped inside. Scowling, he braced his wide hands on the countertop and drummed his fingers while he waited.

Moments later, the woman reappeared. She paused to fluff her hair and tug down the hem of her uniform’s top, before starting back down the hallway toward him. He couldn’t help but notice the swing she’d added to her hips’ movement on the return trip.

When she reached the reception desk, she leaned close to the window. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice having turned sultry on the return trip, “but Dr. Montgomery’s schedule is full today.” She lifted a hand to toy with the top button of her uniform’s top and batted her eyes at him. “But if you’d like, I can make an appointment for you to see her.”

Unless he was mistaken—and he could be, since he was a little out of practice—the woman was flirting with him. Another day, another place and he might’ve flirted right back. But, as it was, nothing, not even a hand-engraved invitation for a quick roll in the hay, could persuade him to spend another minute longer than necessary in Dallas, Texas.

“What time do y’all lock up for the day?” he asked.

Her smile brightened a notch or two. “Four o’clock.”

It was obvious she thought he was asking the question to find out what time she’d be free. He didn’t bother to set her straight. He figured any misunderstanding was hers to deal with, not his.

He glanced at his watch and noted that it was half past three. “I’ll wait.”

She fluttered a hand toward the waiting room. “Just have a seat over there. Can I get you something to drink?”

Already turning away, Woodrow shook his head, sure that the offer didn’t include a shot of whiskey.

And whiskey was what he needed right now.

Wedged in a chair better suited for one of the seven dwarfs, Woodrow considered passing the time by thumbing through one of the magazines scattered across the coffee table. But a closer inspection revealed titles like Good Housekeeping, Working Mother and Ladies Home Journal, and nothing, not even the threat of a hot branding iron on the hip, could persuade him to touch a one of them. Resigned to boredom, he tilted his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Two breaths later, he was asleep.

“You’ll need to call the lab and check on the results for the Carter baby. They promised to have it by Monday at four.”

Woodrow snapped up his head, blinked. A woman was standing in the doorway that separated the waiting area from the examining rooms. She had her hand braced against the door to hold it open and was talking to the receptionist, giving what sounded like last-minute instructions.

Must be the doc, he decided, noting the white lab coat, the stethoscope clasped around her throat like a necklace. Fully awake now, he narrowed his eyes and studied her profile.

She didn’t look like a doctor, he decided. She looked more like somebody’s spinster aunt. The horn-rimmed glasses were his first clue. The bun she’d swept her blond hair up in was the second. But then she turned her back fully to him and exposed the nape of a long graceful neck, and he was suddenly struck by the strongest urge to have his mouth there. Little wisps of hair curled against porcelain-smooth skin shades lighter than his own. Halfway between the collar of the lab coat she wore and the base of her hair-line lay a tiny patch of pinker flesh.

A birthmark? he wondered. Nerves? A heat rash?

Whatever it was, it was on that spot that he wanted to center his mouth.

“Dr. Silsby will be taking my calls,” he heard the doc say, and made himself focus on the conversation again. “I’ve left the number where I can be reached on my desk, in the event of an emergency. And, of course, I’ll have my pager with me.”

Woodrow straightened, his gut clenching. The doc was leaving town? He glanced at the receptionist, and she shot him a surreptitious wink. Knowing he’d best slip out before the receptionist boogered up his one chance of catching the doctor, he eased to his feet and slipped out the door. At the bank of elevators, he paused, hoping to corner the doc there on her way down.

Seconds later he heard the office door open and stole a glance that way. The doc was walking toward him, her head bent as she dug through a purse that hung from a slim shoulder.

He punched the Down button and the door opened. He slapped a hand against it and stepped to the side. “Going down?” he asked.

She glanced up, startled, as if unaware of his presence until that moment. “Why…yes. Thank you.”

She pulled a key ring from her purse, then let the bag fall to swing at her side as she slipped past him. Woodrow released the door and stepped in after her. “First floor?”

“Yes, please,” she replied, then shifted her gaze to watch the panel of lights that would mark their descent.

He punched the button, then moved to stand beside her. She took a discreet step to the side, keeping a safe distance from him. Cautious, he decided. Probably wise, since she lived in a big city like Dallas. As the car slowly descended, her scent drifted his way. That clean, sterile scent associated with doctors’ offices and, beneath it, just a hint of something floral, more feminine.

When they reached the first floor, he placed a hand against the door and stepped back, permitting her to exit first.

Averting her gaze, she murmured, “Thank you,” and swept past him.

He caught up with her in two strides, then slowed and matched his step to hers. “Are you Dr. Elizabeth Montgomery?”

She tightened her fingers on her purse strap, but she didn’t look his way or slow. “Yes.”

They reached the front entrance and Woodrow held the door open for her. Again, she murmured her thanks and swept past him, without making eye contact.

Frustrated, he strode after her. “If you’ve got a minute, I’d like to talk to you.”

“I’m sorry. I’m running rather late, as it is.”

She reached a car, a Mercedes, and fumbled with the automated lock on her key ring. He noticed that her fingers were shaking.

“I’m not a mugger,” he said, hoping to put her fears at rest. “I just want to ask you a few questions.”

She managed to unlock the door and slip inside. “As I said, I’m running late. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Woodrow caught the door before she could shut it in his face. “About your sister,” he added pointedly.

She looked at him then, her blue eyes sharpening behind the horn-rimmed glasses. “You know my sister?”

He stepped around the door and braced a hand along its top. “No. Not personally.”

She gulped and turned her face away to stare through the windshield, her skin paler now, the knuckles on the hand she gripped the steering wheel with a pearly white. “I haven’t seen her in years. She—” She clamped her lips together and angled her head, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Did she send you? Is she in trouble again?”

Woodrow blew out a long breath, unsure how best to proceed. “No. Well,” he amended, frowning, “I wouldn’t call it trouble exactly.”

“If it’s money she wants,” she told him coolly, “you can tell her she can come and ask for it herself.”

“No, ma’am,” he said, growing more uncomfortable by the minute. “She doesn’t need your money.”

“Well, what does she want?” she snapped impatiently. “That’s usually why she contacts me.”

“Well…she…she…” He scowled, trying to think of a gentler way to deliver the news. Unable to think of anything, other than the bald truth, he muttered glumly, “Ma’am, your sister is dead.”

The blood drained from her face. “Dead? My sister is dead?”

His expression grim, he gave his chin a jerk. “Yeah. A little over a month ago.”

She pressed her fingers against her lips. “Dead,” she said again.

Woodrow saw that her chin was trembling, watched the slow swell of tears in her eyes. “Yeah. You see, Star, she—”

She whipped her head around. “Star? My sister’s name isn’t Star. It’s Renee. Renee Montgomery.” Weak with relief, she dropped her forehead against the steering wheel. “Oh, thank God. For a minute there, I thought Renee was—” She stopped midsentence, then jerked up her head and pressed her lips tightly together. “I’m sorry,” she said as she pushed the key into the ignition. “Obviously, you’ve made a mistake. Now, I really must be going.”

When she reached for the door again, Woodrow blocked her way. “Wait.” He dug the picture Ace had given him from his pocket and held it out. “Is this your sister?”

She pushed his hand away without so much as a glance. “I’m sorry. Really I am. But obviously you’ve made a mistake. My sister’s name is Renee, not Star.”

He thrust the picture in front of her face. “Just take a look.”

She gave him an impatient look, then snatched the picture from his hand and held it at arm’s length in order to better see it. Woodrow watched her facial muscles go slack, saw the tremble that began in her fingers.

She shook her head. “I don’t understand.” She turned to look at him, her eyes round with disbelief. “Where did you get this?”

“Maggie Dean. Maggie Tanner now, since she and my brother Ace got married. She worked with Star.”

“Not Star,” she told him and lifted the picture to look at it again. She placed a hand at the base of her throat and rubbed. “Renee. Renee Montgomery.”

Woodrow hunkered down beside the car, putting himself on her level. “Look,” he said quietly. “I know this has probably come as a shock, and I’m sorry that I had to dump this on you so unexpectedly, but there’s more.”

“More?” she repeated, then laughed, the sound hollow and empty to his ears. “What more could you possibly have to tell me, other than my sister is dead?”

Woodrow shifted on the balls of his feet, knowing he had to handle this carefully. Not for himself so much as for Ace and Maggie. “Well,” he began. “You see, Star, I mean Renee,” he corrected. “Well, she had a baby.”

She stared. “A baby?”

He nodded. “Yeah. A girl.”

“But…where is she?”

“With Ace and Maggie. Before Renee died, she made Maggie promise that she’d give the baby to the baby’s father.”

“Ace is the father of my sister’s child?”

Woodrow blew out a long breath. This was getting tougher, instead of easier. “No. Not Ace. Ace’s father. Our father,” he clarified, scowling. “Buck Tanner. He fathered the kid.”

She pressed two fingers to her temple, as if pushing back a headache. “But why does Ace have the baby and not your father?”

“Because my father’s dead. Heart attack. Just a couple of days after Renee died.”

She leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. “I can’t believe this,” she whispered. “Any of it.”

“It’s the truth,” Woodrow assured her. “Every last word. I swear.”

She sat there as still as death, not saying a word. Knowing it was now or never, he scooted closer. “We’re still wrangling with all the legal stuff. Ace hired a private detective to track down Renee’s family, which is how we found out about you. Ace and Maggie, they want to adopt the baby. That’s why I’m here. To get your approval.”

She dropped her chin, shaking her head. “No.” She gulped. “I can’t talk about this right now. It’s too much to absorb. Too fast. I need time to think.” She covered her face with her hands. “Oh, God. Renee.”

Though time was the last thing Woodrow wanted to give her, he pushed to his feet. “I’ll be staying in town overnight.” He fished a gas receipt from his pocket and scrawled a number on the back. “Here’s my cell phone number,” he said, and tossed the paper onto her lap. “Give me a call, when you’re ready to talk.”

Still numb from learning of her sister’s death, that evening Elizabeth stood before her breakfast room window, her arms hugged around her waist. Beyond the glass a hummingbird flitted from bloom to bloom in the garden, seeking nectar, while two squirrels played chase along the top rail of her wrought-iron fence. Behind her, Ted Scott, her fiancé, sat at her kitchen table. Though she couldn’t see his face, she sensed his disapproval. It pressed down on her shoulders like a heavy cloak, adding to the sorrow already weighing her down.

“I know you’re upset,” he said, in a obvious struggle for patience. “I can understand that. But it would be ridiculous for us to cancel our trip now. Not after all the plans we’ve made. Besides, it isn’t as if you have a funeral to arrange or anything. That’s all been done.”

Tears swelled in Elizabeth’s eyes at the mention of the funeral. She’d lost her sister and hadn’t even been allowed at the funeral to mourn her passing. Didn’t even know where Renee had been buried or who had made the arrangements.

Oh, God, she wanted to cry so badly. Wanted to empty her heart and soul of all the grief and regrets that choked her. She squeezed her eyes shut and silently willed Ted to come to her. To wrap his arms around her and just hold her. Comfort her. Just once she wanted him to respond to her emotional needs, instead of stifling them.

When he remained at the table, she pushed back the disappointment and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I need to stay here. Decide what to do.”

“About the baby?”

She nodded, still unable to believe that Renee, little more than a baby herself, had been a mother.

And Elizabeth was an aunt.

“Surely you aren’t considering adopting this child?” he said in dismay. “Why, it could be deformed, retarded! You told me yourself that Renee had taken drugs.”

His callous words scraped across her heart, opening wounds scarred by the past. Slowly she turned to face him, her face white, her eyes fierce. “Do you think that matters to me, Ted? I have a niece. A niece. That baby is all the family I have left in the world. I won’t just sign away whatever rights I may have to her and pretend she never existed.”

Immediately contrite, he rose and crossed to slip his arms around her waist. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth,” he murmured against her hair. “I wasn’t thinking. Of course, you feel a responsibility for the baby. That’s only natural. But you mustn’t do anything rash. It wouldn’t be wise. You’re in shock, I’m sure. A week away will help. It’ll give you the time to adjust to your loss, to put things in proper perspective.”

She buried her face in the curve of his neck, clinging to him, desperate for his comfort, his understanding. But as tight as she clung, she felt nothing from him. No warmth. No understanding. Certainly no comfort. Just the stiffness of his starched collar chafing against her skin, the rigidness of his body where it touched hers.

Disheartened, she shook her head. “I can’t go with you, Ted. Not now.”

He dropped his arms from around her so quickly, she stumbled, off balance.

“Fine.” He plucked his suit jacket from the back of the kitchen chair. “But if you think I’m going to stay here and hold your hand while you cry over a sister whom you haven’t seen or spoken to in years, then you’re mistaken. I’m going to Europe, with or without you.”

“Then you’ll want to take this with you.” Tears burning her eyes, Elizabeth twisted her engagement ring from her finger and held it out to him.

He looked at the ring then back at her. His eyes turned cold, unforgiving. Snatching the ring from her hand, he rammed it into his pocket and spun for the door.

Elizabeth released the breath she’d been holding when the door slammed behind him. Crossing to it, she spun the lock, then turned her back to the door and buried her face in her hands.

“Yeah,” Woodrow said wearily. “I’m still in Dallas.” Holding the cell phone to his ear, he moved to the window in his hotel room to look down at the traffic below. Almost seven o’clock and the streets were still jammed with cars. Wondering why any one would choose to live such a rat-race existence, he warned his brother, “But not for much longer.”

“Did you talk to her?”

Woodrow frowned and turned from the window. “Yeah. I talked to her. Didn’t get very far, though.”