Table of Contents
Cover Page
Excerpt
Dear Reader
Title Page
Dedication
Books by Marie Ferrarella
About the Author
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
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Copyright
“Can I call you Mommy now?”
little Katie asked hopefully. “Cause you married my daddy yesterday, so that makes you my new mommy.”
Courtney could only stare dumbly at John Gabriel’s bright-eyed four-year-old daughter.
John placed a hand on the child’s shoulder. “Honey, I really don’t think—”
But something warm was stirring within Courtney, filling her heart.
Mommy. Someone wanted to call her Mommy.
She placed her hand on Katie’s other shoulder.
And then her eyes met John Gabriel’s.
And she had the distinct impression that they were waging a private, primal tug-of-war.
Dear Reader,
Fall is to be savored for all its breathtaking glory—and a spectacular October lineup awaits at Special Edition!
For years, readers have treasured Tracy Sinclair’s captivating romances…and October commemorates her fiftieth Silhouette book! To help celebrate this wonderful author’s crowning achievement, be sure to check out The Princess Gets Engaged— an enthralling romance that finds American tourist Megan Delaney in a royal mess when she masquerades as a princess and falls hopelessly in love with the charming Prince Nicholas.
This month’s THAT’S MY BABY! title is by Lois Faye Dyer. He’s Got His Daddy’s Eyes is a poignant reunion story about hope, the enduring power of love and how one little boy works wonders on two broken hearts.
Nonstop romance continues as three veteran authors deliver enchanting stories. Check out award-winning author Marie Ferrarella’s adorable tale about mismatched lovers when a blue-blooded heroine hastily marries a blue-collar carpenter in Wanted: Husband, Will Train. And what’s an amnesiac triplet to do when she washes up on shore and right into the arms of a brooding billionaire? Find out in The Mysterious Stranger, when Susan Mallery’s engaging TRIPLE TROUBLE series splashes to a finish! Reader favorite Arlene James serves up a tender story about unexpected love in The Knight, The Waitress and the Toddler— book four in our FROM BUD TO BLOSSOM promo series.
Finally, October’s WOMAN TO WATCH is debut author Lisette Belisle, who unfolds an endearing romance between an innocent country girl and a gruff drifter in Just Jessie.
I hope you enjoy these books, and all of the stories to come!
Sincerely,
Tara Gavin, Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
Wanted: Husband, Will Train
To Dr. Darel Benvenuti and Linda.
Thank you for setting me straight and putting me on the right path.
Books by Marie Ferrarella
Slhouette Special Edition
It Happened One Night #597
A Girl’s Best Friend #652
Blessing in Disguise #675
Someone To Talk To #703
World’s Greatest Dad #767
Family Matters #832
She Got Her Man #843
Baby in the Middle #892
Husband: Some Assembly Required #931
Brooding Angel #963
†Baby’s First Christmas #997
Christmas Bride #1069
Wanted: Husband, Will Train #1132
Silhouette Intimate Moments
*Holding Out for a Hero #496
*Htroes Great and Small #501
*Christmas Every Day #538
Callaghan’s Way #601
*Caitlin’s Guardian Angel #661
†Happy New Year—Baby! #686
The Amnesiac Bride #787
Serena McKee’s Back in Town #808
Silhouette Yours Truly
‡ The 71b., 20z. Valenline
Let’s Get Mommy Married
Traci on the Spol
Mommy and the Policeman Next Door
‡Baby’s Choice
†The Baby of the Month Club
*Those Sinclairs
Silhouette Desire
†Husband: Optional #988
Silhouette Romance
The Gift #588
Five-Alarm Affair #613
Heart to Heart #612
Mother for Hire #686
Borrowed Baby #730
Her Special Angel #744
Starbuck #766
Man Trouble #815
The Taming of the Teen #839
Father Goose #869
Babies on His Mind #920
The Right Man #932
In Her Own Backyard #947
Her Man Friday #959
Aunt Connie’s Wedding #984
‡Caution: Baby Ahead #1007
‡Mother on the Wing # 1026
‡Baby Times Two #1037
Father in the Making #1078
The Women in Joe Sullivan’s Life #1096
†Do You Take This #1145
Your Baby or Mine? #1216
Silhouette Books
Silhouette Christmas Stories 1992
“The Night Santa Claus Returned”
Fortune’s Children
Forgotten Honeymoon
Books by Marle Ferrarella writing as Marle Nicole
Silhouette Desire
Tried and True #112
Buyer Beware #142
Through Laughter and Tears #161
Grand Theft: Heart #182
A Woman of Integrity #197
Country Blue #224
Last Year’s Hunk #274
Foxy Lady #315
Chocolate Dreams #346
No Laughing Matter #382
Silhouette Romance
Man Undercover #373
Please Stand By #394
Mine by Write #411
Getting Physical #440
MARIE FERRARELLA
lives in Southern California. She describes herself as the tired mother of two overenergetic children and the contented wife of one wonderful man. The RITA Award-winning author is thrilled to be following her dream of writing full-time.
Chapter One
“Will you be my mommy?”
The soft, melodious voice startled her. She’d thought she was alone. There was no reason to think otherwise. After all, this was her backyard, and her property. Courtney Tamberlaine raised her eyes from the page of the mystery book that she’d found only mildly diverting and looked at the source of the question.
There was a little girl standing before her with hair the color of wheat in the early-morning sunlight and eyes the color of the sky. A little girl of about four or five.
A little girl she didn’t know.
Courtney shut her book and swung her legs off the chaise longue. Shading her eyes from the glare of the sun bouncing off the pool, she regarded the child in stunned silence. Who was she and how had she gotten in here?
“Excuse me?”
Suddenly shy, the child dug her hands
into the pockets of her pink flower-print overalls. She rocked a little on the balls of her sneakered feet. For the first time, Courtney noticed her complexion. The little girl was incredibly fair. Fair enough to remind Courtney of the chinadoll collection she’d owned when she was younger.
“Will you be my mommy?” the child patiently repeated. Shyness gave way to a smile. The small, pink curve seemed to light up everything around her. “You look just like her.”
And the little girl didn’t look like anyone Courtney knew. “Who are you?”
As far as she was aware, none of the staff had any relatives around that age and there was no way she could have just wandered in off the street. The security alarms along the black wrought-iron fencing would have announced her long before she reached poolside.
“Katie.” A deep male voice rumbled behind Courtney. It was stern, though clearly tempered with affection.
Rather than looking embarrassed or frightened, the little girl gave a wide smile as her eyes darted toward the man calling her name.
Just how many people were there wandering around here who she wasn’t aware of?
Annoyed, Courtney turned around to see a man walking toward them. A blond, bare-chested, sweaty, bronzed god of a man wearing jeans that were slung low from the weight of a tool belt he had strapped to his hips. For a long moment, all Courtney could do was stare. He looked like every woman’s fantasy come true.
Who was that?
Obviously unconcerned about who she was, he gave her a short, polite nod as he took the child’s hand in his. Unaccustomed to being so lightly dismissed, Courtney straightened.
“I’m sorry, she shouldn’t be here,” the man said, looking down into the small upturned face. There was nothing but patience and love in his eyes. “Katie, what did I tell you about bothering people while I’m working?”
“You said not to.” The small face remained undaunted by the gentle reprimand. “But look, Daddy. She looks like Mommy.”
Courtney’s eyes slid along the lean, muscular torso. His skin, darkened from toiling in the open, gleamed with the sheen of hard labor. Courtney realized that she was holding her breath and exhaled slowly. Mommy, whoever she was, was a very lucky woman.
Something—she couldn’t quite put her finger on what—flashed through his eyes as they flickered over her at the child’s behest. In the middle of the warmest day in July in recent California history, Courtney felt a chill wrap itself around her.
“No, she doesn’t look like Mommy.” His manner was patient. It was evident that he cared for the little girl a great deal. But the words themselves were ground out.
Maybe Mommy wasn’t all that lucky at that, Courtney amended.
“But the picture, Daddy,” Katie insisted, unwilling to be put off so easily. Confused, she looked up at her father. “She looks like the picture in your big white book.”
Entertaining though all this was, Courtney still didn’t have an answer to her question. Who were these people and what were they doing on her property?
Courtney rose slowly from her lounge chair, tugging at the slim string of her bikini to move it back into place. She tucked her book under her arm. Aware of the impression she generated, she watched the man’s face and noted with pleasure that an appreciative glint lit the man’s eyes, though his expression never changed.
As his eyes met hers, he turned abruptly and began to walk off, his daughter’s hand securely held in his. Courtney watched the hilt of the hammer attached to his belt swing rhythmically against his hip like a metronome moving in slow time.
She blinked, astounded that they could just come and go like this.
“Wait a minute,” Courtney called after them. “Just who are you?”
The man stopped and turned around, still holding his daughter’s hand, though she seemed eager to run back to her for a closer look.
“My name’s John Gabriel. I was hired by someone named Sloan to renovate the guest house. This is my daughter, Katie.”
“Oh.” With deliberate, measured steps, Courtney crossed to where they were standing. Gabriel, she noted, bemused, kept his eyes on her face.
She vaguely recalled asking Sloan to see about getting the guest house a face-lift. Confident in the man’s competence, she’d left the details entirely in the old butler’s hands. She wondered if the man Sloan hired worked half as well as he looked.
“That means you’re actually working for me.” Courtney put out her hand. “I’m Courtney Tamberlaine. This is my house.”
John took the hand she offered and shook it. “House” was hardly an adequate word for the place. It was more like a museum, he thought. Far too big to be thought of as comfortable or a home, at least as far as his tastes ran. But the spacious design was architecturally pleasing and he could admire the structure without actually liking what had been done with it.
“Nice place,” he allowed. The woman was still holding his hand. He was aware of the gleeful look in Katie’s eyes. Though it gladdened his heart to see his daughter happy, he didn’t want the wrong impression flowering in her young mind. “I’m being paid by the hour.”
Courtney inclined her head. Another man in this situation would have said something witty in an attempt to impress her. Maybe he wasn’t capable of witty. Maybe what she saw was all there was. A gorgeous outer shell with no interesting matter inside.
She withdrew her hand. “Then I’d better let you work.” Turning, Courtney began to walk away, confident that he was watching her.
But when she glanced over her shoulder, she saw that Gabriel was busy shepherding his daughter back toward the guest house. He wasn’t even looking in her direction. Mildly miffed, Courtney shrugged and pulled open the French doors. She’d had enough of sun for one day, anyway.
With a toss of her head that was meant to totally blot out the existence of the annoying laborer, she was halfway across the family room before she was aware that there was someone in the room with her.
“So, is that what they’re wearing, or should I say not wearing, on the Riviera these days?”
Courtney didn’t have to look. The voice was all too familiar, ingrained in her brain with a multitude of memories that dated back to the earliest ones of her childhood.
Throwing open her arms, she crossed to her oldest friend. “Mandy! When did you get in?” Courtney hadn’t expected her to be back for another week at the very least.
Engulfed in the embrace, Miranda Calhoun returned it with feeling. “This morning.” She sighed dramatically for effect. “The flight from Athens was an absolute endurance test.”
Courtney reached for the short green robe she’d left on the back of the sofa. “In first class?” She slipped her arms through the sleeves as she laughed. “Yeah, I’ll just bet.”
Mandy arranged herself on the sofa, spreading out her wide, ice blue skirt. It showed off her tan. “What first class? I flew in Louis’s jet. It was Louis who was the endurance test.” Brown eyes just a shade darker than her hair snapped with a joke that was not to remain a secret for long. “He wants to marry me.”
Men always wanted to marry Mandy. She was as diminutive as Courtney was statuesque. It gave her a waiflike quality that made men want to take care of her. The appearance belied an iron independent streak that was a mile wide.
Courtney leaned against the arm of the sofa. She knew the answer even before she asked, but allowed Mandy her moment. “And?”
“And?” Tidy brows drew together. “What am I, crazy? I don’t want to be the third Mrs. Norville when I finally get married. I don’t want to be the third any thing.” She smoothed out a wave in her skirt. “When I get married, I want to be the first Mrs. Something-or other.” Tilting her head like a robin pondering the best strategy to use to coax a worm from its hole, she studied her best friend’s face. “Speaking of married—”
Courtney rose abruptly from her perch, a warning look in her eyes. “Don’t start.”
The tone told her everything. Mandy couldn’t believe it. “You
mean you haven’t begun yet?”
Courtney carelessly shrugged her shoulders beneath the robe. A strap dipped down and she pushed it back into place. “Begun what?”
Mandy waved her hands vaguely in the air, like a sorcerer conjuring up a spell. For lack of a better word, she retorted, “Proceedings.”
“Proceedings,” Courtney repeated. A small smile curved the corners of her mouth. Proceedings. A euphemism for wedding arrangements. “A little difficult without a husband-to-be in the picture.”
Mandy shook her head. “Well, you’d better reframe your picture, Courtney, or you’re going to be out on the street corner, selling flowers in—what, thirty days?”
Courtney thought of the date on her calendar. “Twenty-eight, but who’s counting?”
“You should be. Hell, Court, talk about being in denial. Anyone else would have already lined up the hall by now.” Mandy frowned. “Why do you think your father did that, anyway?”
It had been something he had threatened to do all along, but Courtney hadn’t really believed he would. Not until he’d died and the will had been read. Even now, she couldn’t believe that there wasn’t a way around it. Her father wouldn’t have backed her against the wall like that. She’d always felt that there had to be some loophole somewhere, if only she could appeal to their family lawyer.
“I think Dad believed he was teaching me something about values.” Courtney shrugged the matter away. She didn’t really want to discuss it. “I don’t know. All I do know is that that clause is ridiculous and there’s no way Edwin Parsons is going to hold me to it.” Her eyes met Mandy’s, which were filled with skepticism. “He can’t. He’s a family friend.” Her friend, in a manner of speaking, although the bonds of friendship had been forged between the thin, humorless man and her father.