Tick Tock Goes The Baby Clock

Tick Tock Goes The Baby Clock Julianna Morris After thirty-two chaste, lonely years, Annie James longed for a man in her bed and a baby in her arms. And now that her biological clock was ticking loudly, she was hoping her pal Max Hunter could help her land a husband.But from their first "practice" good-night kiss, Annie found herself falling maddeningly in love with Max–the most marriage-res/sfanf man in town!Marriage was out of the question for Max Hunter. Now he just had to convince sweet, lovable Annie that she'd make some lucky man a perfect bride just as she was. And if he could just let her out of his arms long enough, he might remember why that man couldn't be him! “I just wondered…what should I do about good-night kisses?” “What?” Max replied with a scowl. “A good-night kiss,” Annie repeated. “How soon is it all right to kiss your date?” “Don’t think so much about it,” Max advised brusquely. “A first kiss isn’t such a big deal anymore…. Let it be spontaneous.” “Oh. Like this, you mean?” An impish smile curved Annie’s mouth. She threw her arms around his neck and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. As kisses went, it was one of the most innocent he’d ever received, but it hiked up Max’s temperature more than he’d thought possible. Suddenly he didn’t want Annie trying any of those innocent kisses on any man but him! Dear Reader, I hope the long hot summer puts you in the mood for romance—Silhouette Romance, that is! Because we’ve got a month chock-full of exciting stories. And be sure to check out just how Silhouette can make you a star! Elizabeth Harbison returns with her CINDERELLA BRIDES miniseries. In His Secret Heir, an English earl discovers the American student he’d once known had left with more than his heart.…And Teresa Southwick’s Crazy for Lovin’You begins a new series set in DESTINY, TEXAS. Filled with emotion, romance and a touch of intrigue, these stories are sure to captivate you! Cara Colter’s THE WEDDING LEGACY begins with Husband by Inheritance. An heiress gains a new home—complete with the perfect husband. Only, he doesn’t know it yet! And Patricia Thayer’s THE TEXAS BROTHERHOOD comes to a triumphant conclusion when Travis Comes Home. Lively, high-spirited Julianna Morris shows a woman’s determination to become a mother with Tick Tock Goes the Baby Clock and Roxann Delaney gives us A Saddle Made for Two. We’ve also got a special treat in store for you! Next month, look for Marie Ferrarella’s The Inheritance, a spin-off from the MAITLAND MATERNITY series. This title is specially packaged with the introduction to the new Mills & Boon continuity series, TRUEBLOOD, TEXAS. But The Inheritance then leads back into Silhouette Romance, so be sure to catch the opening act. Happy Reading! Mary-Theresa Hussey Senior Editor Tick Tock Goes the Baby Clock Julianna Morris www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) To Carol R., Joan, Debbie R. and Brenda—friends like you make each day better. Books by Julianna Morris Silhouette Romance Baby Talk #1097 Family of Three #1178 Daddy Woke up Married #1252 Dr. Dad #1278 The Marriage Stampede #1375 * (#litres_trial_promo)Callie, Get Your Groom #1436 * (#litres_trial_promo)Hannah Gets a Husband #1448 * (#litres_trial_promo)Jodie’s Mail-Order Man #1460 Meeting Megan Again #1502 Tick Tock Goes the Baby Clock #1531 JULIANNA MORRIS has an offbeat sense of humor, which frequently gets her into trouble. She is often accused of being curious about everything…her interests ranging from oceanography and photography to traveling, antiquing, walking on the beach and reading science fiction. Julianna loves cats of all shapes and sizes, and last year she was adopted by a feline companion named Merlin. Like his namesake, Merlin is an alchemist—she says he can transform the house into a disaster area in no time flat. And since he shares the premises with a writer, it’s interesting to note that he’s particularly fond of knocking books onto the floor. Julianna happily reports meeting Mr. Right. Together they are working on a new dream of building a shoreline home in the Great Lakes area. Contents Chapter One (#uf97ada3c-82cc-524f-8848-ca2f1f621eb1) Chapter Two (#u89a45efe-34a7-5ef3-b912-f3ffdcd8f56a) Chapter Three (#ud071d7da-3198-541c-88bc-4e2076423704) Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo) Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter One A car pulled into the parking area of the store, and Annie James’s eyes widened as she recognized the driver. “Max Hunter,” she breathed. A quiver of awareness went through her body, no matter how hard she tried to stop it. Okay, so it was Max. She still lived next door to his grandmother, so there was nothing remarkable about seeing him, especially now that he’d moved back to California. “Nothing,” she assured herself. He might be the most attractive man she’d ever known and sent tingles down her spine with his smile, but they were just friends. Max helped an elegantly clad woman from his BMW, and Annie bit her lip. It was a good thing she’d accepted that Max was Max and that he preferred sophisticated city women, not small-town girls more comfortable in T-shirts than silk blouses. She just wasn’t his type. Problem was, she didn’t seem to be any man’s type. “Stop that, Barnard.” Annie absently pulled a ledger book away from the large brown rabbit chewing on the corner. His velvety nose twitched, and he hopped until he could sink his teeth into the paper again. “Silly thing.” Annie stroked his soft fur and sighed. The usual Saturday bustle of a farm-supply store revolved around her, and here she was, talking to a rabbit. She had to get a life. Preferably a life that included a gold ring, a baby on the way and a honest-to-goodness man in her bed every night. There was just one tiny drawback to that idea—she didn’t have the slightest idea how to carry it out. It wasn’t a new thought. Having grown up with a widowed father and being firmly planted in all the local boys’ minds as a “nice” girl, she didn’t have much experience with the opposite sex. If she wanted to break out of that mold and get herself a husband, she needed an advisor—someone to get her through the rough spots. Sort of a romantic guidance counselor. She looked out the window again, an idea creeping into her mind. Actually, Max was perfect for the job. If anyone could advise her about men and what appealed to them it was Max Hunter. And since he lived in the city, he’d know about the hot spots where single people shopped, and stuff. Somewhere in the back of Annie’s mind she knew there was a risk to the idea, but she needed to make a change, and Max seemed heaven-sent. “Problem, boss? You’re kinda distracted.” Annie looked up at her teenage warehouseman and gave her head a determined shake. “Nope. Did you get Mr. Zankowski taken care of, Darnell?” “Yup. If he was any happier he might even crack a smile.” Mr. Zankowski was a notoriously dour safflower farmer. Rumor had it he’d smiled once when Dwight D. Eisenhower was elected president, but Annie wasn’t sure she believed the story. “Great wheels.” Darnell was staring out at the parking lot. “Man, I’ll never have wheels like that on minimum wage.” “You’re a teenager. You aren’t supposed to have wheels like that.” She pulled the ledger away from the rabbit a second time and tossed it in a drawer. “You’ve been talking to Mom. Do you know she makes me save half my paycheck for college? The half before taxes?” “It’s because she loves you.” Even as Annie said the words, a pang went through her. If she didn’t do something soon, she might never have her own son or daughter. It was all good and fine to be an honorary aunt to most of the kids in town, but it wasn’t the same. Darnell headed back toward the warehouse with a last, longing glance through the window. The bell over the door tinkled, and Annie looked up. “How charming,” a woman drawled. “It’s so rustic.” Her tone wasn’t complimentary. “You could have stayed in the car,” Max said. Annie’s spirits lifted. Max really was perfect. He was perfect even when everyone else in high school was struggling with bad hair and worse skin. He had dark-toned skin and jet-black hair—courtesy of his Native American grandfather—a sexy smile and the brooding expression of a loner…unless you looked closely and saw the twinkle in his dark eyes. On top of everything else, he was six foot two, with the physique of an athlete. In other words, be-still-my-heart gorgeous. Her heart might still flutter over Max, but it was safer and smarter to ignore those feelings. And, when all was said and done, they’d remained pals while the rest of his girlfriends had gone the way of the Dodo bird. She didn’t want someone that handsome, anyway. Men like Max were too complicated, too interested in a fast-paced glitzy life. Give her someone like the new schoolteacher in town and she’d be happy. “Hey, Annie.” She stood and leaned against the timeworn front counter. “Hey, Max. What are you doing here?” “Er, looking at some property with a client. Miss Blakely has decided to build a summer home out on the delta and wants me to design it.” He rolled his eyes and gave her a private wink. “Then she got thirsty and I remembered you had a soda machine here at the store.” “Darling, I told you…please call me Buffy.” The woman slid her arm into Max’s with a proprietary look on her face, and a pained expression replaced his smile. Annie choked. Buffy Blakely? Well, she supposed it took all kinds. “The machine is in the back,” Annie said. “Do you need some quarters?” She punched a button on the ancient cash register and the door shot open. With the ease of long practice she let it bounce against her tummy, preventing it from flying across the room. “You don’t have that fixed yet?” Max looked surprised, and she remembered earlier days when she hadn’t caught the drawer in time and they’d spent the next half hour chasing quarters and nickels. Once she’d bumped into him under the desk, and she could have sworn he was about to kiss her, but it turned out she was mistaken. “No.” Annie wrinkled her nose at the faint disapproval in his eyes. “They say it’s unfixable.” She patted the ornate brass and polished wood of the cash register. She didn’t care about the quirky drawer, she liked the old thing. It had character. Why did everyone want to get rid of lovely old things and replace them with new things that didn’t have any history? “Max. Must this take so long? It’s so dusty in here,” Buffy said, obviously miffed at being ignored. “Why don’t you wait in the car?” he suggested, removing his arm from her grasp and handing her the key ring. “I haven’t seen Annie for over a month. I’d like to catch up on local news.” Buffy pocketed the keys with a tight smile. “Thanks, but I’ll wait.” “Swell.” Max turned back to Annie. “Grandmother mentioned how terrific you’ve been helping out while she had the flu, and all. I didn’t know she was sick.” “Oh…” Annie said, flustered. “You’ve been so busy since you moved back from Boston, she didn’t want to bother you. And I was happy to help, you know that.” That’s Annie, Max thought fondly. A doer. The kind of woman who rolled up her sleeves and wasn’t afraid of getting her hands dirty. She was just as kind-hearted as the day he’d moved in with his grandmother. Two years younger than him, but she’d always seemed even younger with her sweet face and earnest eyes. If the rest of Mitchellton was like Annie, then it wouldn’t be so bad. But it was just a forgotten little town on the Sacramento River delta—thirty years behind the rest of the world, moving at its own relentlessly slow pace. Mitchellton never changed; it was less than twenty-five miles from the state capital of Sacramento, but it might as well be a thousand for all it cared. “Grace says your new architectural firm is doing great,” Annie murmured. “She’s so proud. She said you’ve also won several awards.” “I’m doing all right.” Max frowned. “I’ve been trying to convince Grandmother to move into Sacramento, but she keeps refusing.” “She likes Mitchellton.” “But I’d get her a condo with all the latest amenities. And she’d be so much closer to the best doctors and a first-rate hospital.” Annie sighed. “This is where Grace’s friends are, Max. You know that.” “Max, I’m really thirsty,” Buffy said through gritted teeth. At the moment Max didn’t care if she was on the moon, much less thirsty, but he sighed and pinned a polite smile on his face. Some commissions weren’t worth the time and trouble, and this one was definitely headed in that direction. “Of course. We’ll get something out of the machine.” He caught Annie covering her mouth with her hand in a blatant attempt not to laugh and gave her a mock glare. Damn, it was good to see her, especially with someone like Buffy the Architect Slayer in tow. In her quest for the “ideal” summer house Buffy Blakely had gone through four architects. Max suspected the previous four had all been single and in the thirty-something age range. Buffy wasn’t subtle about wanting more from the relationship than a house design—she wanted to get married. Marriage. Max shook his head and shuddered. Marriage was out. His mother and father had nine divorces under their combined belts, and he’d lost track of how many stepsiblings he’d had between them. He supposed you could argue they were optimistic to keep trying, but it wasn’t for him. You didn’t have to get your hand slammed in a car door to know it wouldn’t feel good. “Max.” Buffy’s tone had reached a higher pitch than he’d ever heard before, and he sighed. With Buffy following close on his heel, he threaded his way between displays of gardening tools and vegetable seeds. In the back of the store was an ancient soda pop machine. It was the old-fashioned kind where you pulled the bottle out by the neck and the next one rolled into place. Max stopped in front of it and took his wallet from his pocket. “That’s it?” Buffy stared at the ancient soda dispenser as if “it” were about to attack her. “Yeah.” He dropped money into the slot. “Do you want cola, or lemon-lime? And I think there’s orange, too.” She didn’t say anything, just stared at him stonily, so Max selected a lemon-lime, popped the cap off and handed it to her. He knew she expected designer water or some other trendy drink, but this was Mitchellton, and he doubted they’d ever heard of designer water. “Annie, do you want one?” he called. “My treat.” “Sure. Anything is fine.” Still ignoring Buffy and her frozen face, Max got another lemon-lime and brought it to Annie. She smiled a thank-you and took a long swallow, tipping her head back. Max watched idly, thinking it was a very graceful gesture, simple and uncomplicated. Like Mitchellton, Annie hadn’t changed much. Her face had the same sweetheart shape, dominated by big blue eyes and framed by reddish brown hair. Her smile was just as contagious as always and made you feel good just looking at it. She was as slim as ever, too, but she usually wore baggy clothing that concealed everything but the taut curve of her breasts. Odd that she’d never gotten married. Mitchellton was a marrying kind of place, and in her way Annie was quite pretty. And, if her bust was any indication, she had a figure that would make most men ecstatic in bed. “Is something wrong, Max?” Annie’s puzzled voice sent a jolt through him and he swallowed uncomfortably. Where had that come from? He was definitely being affected by the hot sunshine outside and the annoying presence of Buffy Blakely. Friends did not have licentious thoughts about another friend, especially when the friend was someone like Annie. She was like a kid sister, for Pete’s sake. “I was just thinking,” Max said lamely. As long as she didn’t ask what he’d been thinking about, he was okay. He certainly didn’t want to embarrass her. Annie would probably turn beet-red if she thought anyone was looking at her chest. “Oh, right. You know, there’s something I’ve been thinking about, too, and…uh, I thought you’d be a good person to…discuss it with,” she stuttered. Max looked at her and wondered what could possibly make Annie so tongue-tied. He was about to ask, when a look of horror crossed her face. “No, Tigger. Stop. Come here,” she cried. Max followed the direction of Annie’s dismayed gaze and saw a large tiger-striped cat walking toward Buffy. He didn’t understand at first, then he saw something was hanging from the feline’s mouth. With a pleased “marooow,” Tigger dropped his gift right on Buffy’s sandal-clad foot. Time seemed frozen for a second, with three humans and a cat staring at a dazed mouse reclining on fine Italian leather. All at once Buffy screamed and kicked out in a move that would have made the coach of the Green Bay Packers proud. The mouse flew across the room and landed on a padded dog bed. It blinked a couple of times, looked around cautiously and made a beeline for a hole in the wall. Tigger followed in hot pursuit. “Well…that was exciting,” Max murmured. “Exciting?” Buffy glared. “I’ll probably get some horrible disease from that disgusting little rodent.” If the truth be told, Max was more worried about the mouse. It couldn’t be healthy coming into such close contact with Buffy. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.” “What do you know about it? Don’t just stand there, get a doctor. Get some disinfectant.” One of Max’s eyebrows shot upward. She sounded like Lucy in a Charlie Brown cartoon, screaming about dog cooties, and it was getting harder and harder to keep from laughing. He cast a glance at Annie, who stood with one hand covering her mouth and her eyes opened impossibly wide. She was plainly sharing his trouble in keeping a straight face. “I think I have some iodine,” she said. That did it. Max couldn’t have kept from laughing any more than he could have stopped breathing. “You…you monster. I’m suing. I’m suing this revolting store and this entire pathetic town,” Buffy screeched, her carefully modulated voice turning into a cracked soprano. “And you, Mr. Maxwell Hunter, can go to hell.” Turning on her well-shod heel, she stalked out of the store, down the steps and climbed into the driver’s seat of his BMW. The motor roared into life, and she peeled out of the parking lot, leaving a strip of rubber on the asphalt. Tarnation. Max winced. That car was his baby. The first real indulgence of his success, and Buffy was treating it like a vehicle in a stock-car rally. “Do you think she’s actually going to sue?” Annie asked. She bit her lip worriedly. “Naw.” He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. She hates looking ridiculous.” “I don’t know, she seemed really angry. Maybe she won’t care how it looks.” Max leaned forward and tugged a lock of Annie’s hair. “You’re forgetting one little thing—Buffy just stole my BMW. An alleged mouse attack doesn’t stack up to grand theft auto.” For a man whose car had just been taken and who’d probably lost a big design commission, Annie didn’t think Max seemed too upset. Still, maybe now wasn’t the best time to spring her little scheme on him. She’d take him home and feed him a meal. Then she’d drive him back to Sacramento and they could make plans on the way. If he agreed. On the other hand, she might just wimp out and never say anything at all. No. Annie set her jaw stubbornly. She’d spent her entire thirty-two years in a romantic black hole. If she didn’t do something about it now, her life would never change. The thought sent a quaking sensation through her stomach. It wasn’t that things were so bad, they were just…nothing. And now she had a deadline from the doctor to worry about. “Do you want to make out a report to the sheriff?” she asked, picking up the receiver to the phone. “I don’t suppose you want to see Buffy on the most-wanted list, but you could get it on the record.” Max grinned. “Why not? I’ll give them an unofficial report on the unlikely chance Buffy decides to make trouble.” Annie dialed the number and handed the receiver to him. Their tiny little county boasted a sheriff and a part-time deputy—crime wasn’t exactly a problem around Mitchellton. The delta islands were a lost corner of the world; folks tended to forget they even existed. She listened while Max said hello to the deputy and explained the circumstances of his missing car, saying he wanted the authorities to know what had happened “just in case.” Newell didn’t ask for details about the “just in case” part of Max’s statement, which was exactly what Annie could have predicted. Unlike his newly elected and dedicated boss, Newell wasn’t the most ambitious deputy in the world. He was happy to go along with anything that meant he could remain in the office with his feet on the desk. When Max was finished, Annie took the phone and glanced at him from under her lashes. “I’ll close the store and take you over to Grace’s house,” she murmured. “And I’ll even fix dinner to make up for the trouble.” “Buffy is the one who made trouble,” he said. “And don’t close early for me. I’d appreciate the ride, but you shouldn’t lose business because you’re doing me a favor.” “That’s all right. I don’t get very many customers on Saturday afternoon.” Annie walked to the door of the warehouse adjoining the store, where Darnell was stacking fifty-pound sacks of fertilizer along one wall. “I’m closing early,” she called. “You can go, too.” Darnell’s face brightened. “I’ve got a date tonight. Do I still get paid for the same time?” “Yes.” The teenager let out a happy whoop, and in the space of sixty seconds he had the loading dock closed and was on his bike, pedaling furiously down the road. “I used to get that excited about date night,” Max said as Annie emptied the cash register and counted the money. “Remember what it was like?” he asked, a rueful smile on his mouth. Annie pressed her lips together. Sooner or later she would have to discuss her lack of romantic experience with Max, but she would rather it was later than sooner. Besides, he knew she’d never dated during high school. She’d watched him go out with one girl after another, but Friday and Saturday nights had always meant something different for her. “It was great,” Max continued, seeming not to notice she hadn’t answered his question. “Nothing to worry about except school exams and an excess of hormones. Those were the days.” “Not…really.” Max winced, hearing the strain in Annie’s voice. He guessed happy times were scarce in Annie’s memories—her father had gotten sick during that period, and she’d taken care of him for several agonizing years before his death. “Sorry, Annie. I forgot. You didn’t have that much fun in high school, did you?” Her shoulders lifted in a barely perceptible shrug. “It doesn’t matter.” “It matters. I guess most of us would rather forget what childhood was really like,” he said soberly. “Mentally skip the bad parts.” “You always said things got better…after you came to live with Grace.” “That’s for sure. A little dull, but much better than before.” Max rubbed his jaw. In the end he’d almost turned into a normal kid, thanks to Grace Hunter. She’d been a calm, safe anchor in the middle of his parents’ volatile, ever-changing relationships. “If you can’t provide a decent home for my grandson, I’m taking him to live with me,” Grace had declared when he was eleven years old. They hadn’t argued for long. He’d reached an age where he was a royal pain, full of resentment and a know-it-all-attitude. It was probably a relief when Grace hauled him off to Mitchellton. Annie wrote some figures in a ledger book, then put the money she’d counted into a cloth bag and stuffed it into a hidden safe. Max frowned. “Should you do that?” he asked. “Just leave it here? We can go by the night deposit at the credit union.” She shook her head. “We didn’t have many cash sales today—never do on Saturdays. It’ll be fine over the weekend.” He didn’t like it, though he knew she must have been doing the same thing for years. Things were different in the city. You had to be a lot more careful. But still… “Besides, I have to be back here by seven on Monday, and I’ll need cash for the day,” Annie said. She wrote Closed Early on a piece of paper and taped it on the window. “There’s a load of hay being delivered.” Max swallowed another protest. Annie was such a small thing, she barely came to his chin. She might be strong for her size, but that didn’t mean she could handle bales of hay or other heavy lifting. A farm supply store wasn’t the kind of place you expected a woman to operate, but she’d taken over after her father’s death and kept the business going. He looked around the store, seeing the racks of seeds, pet food and supplies, garden implements and a myriad of other items. Except for the pet supplies, it wasn’t much different from twenty years ago. For that matter, the business probably hadn’t changed in the past fifty years. “There now, Barnard. We’re going home,” Annie said, reaching down and picking up a large brown rabbit from the desk. She tucked the creature under an arm and fished a small set of keys from her jeans pocket. “Ready?” she asked. Max looked from the twitching nose of the rabbit to Annie’s sweet face. Only Annie James would bring a pet rabbit to work with her. “What about Tigger?” “Tigger lives here in the store. He’s responsible for keeping rats and mice from invading the warehouse.” Max grinned. “Yeah. And he doesn’t do a bad job running off annoying customers, either.” Annie looked guiltily embarrassed, and he had a sudden urge to give her a hug. She worried too much about things. But then, she’d had to grow up quickly when her father got sick, so he supposed it was understandable. “It’s okay, kiddo,” he assured softly. “Buffy was a major pain in the behind. I owe Tigger a treat for getting rid of her.” She smiled. “Get him some catnip. It makes him goofy.” Max grimaced as he followed her out the door. He was the goofy one, thinking about hugging Annie, because he had the sneaking suspicion that his desire to hug her had less to do with comfort than it did with wondering how she’d feel in his arms. Chapter Two “That was delicious, Annie,” said Grace Hunter as she neatly folded her napkin. “I haven’t eaten this much in a month,” Max groaned, spooning a last bite of rhubarb cobbler into his mouth. “I sure missed your cooking in Boston, Annie.” Annie smiled shyly. “Thank Grace, she taught me.” “Thanks, Grandma,” Max said. He eyed the remains of the cobbler in the baking dish and wondered if he could find room for a second helping, then decided it was impossible. There was nothing sophisticated about Annie’s cooking, but it was good. On top of everything else, it was filled with fresh-picked produce out of her own garden—from cherry tomatoes to the herbs she’d used to season the zucchini and roasted chicken. “I’m a little tired. Maybe I’ll go home and watch that documentary about Japan,” Grace murmured. “Will you stay and help Annie with the dishes, Max?” “That’s a good idea,” he said, giving her a kiss. Normally Grace had boundless energy, and a worried frown creased Max’s forehead as he watched her slowly cross the yard and go into the house next door. “It’s okay,” Annie said quietly. “She’s still getting over the flu.” “Are you sure? She’s always been so indestructible. I’ve never seen her this tired.” Annie nodded. “She’s sixty-seven, Max. It takes her longer to recover. The doctor says she’ll probably live to be a hundred, but to remember she isn’t a kid any longer.” “You’ve talked to him?” “Oh, yes. We’ve had a number of conversations.” There was a note of steel in Annie’s voice, and Max grinned. She was protective of the people she loved. No doubt she’d put the doctor on the spot more than once. It had been a pleasant, lazy afternoon of visiting and working around the two houses. Annie had offered to take him into Sacramento, but he’d suggested they wait until the next day so he could spend more time with Grace. Lately he’d barely had time to think, much less visit Mitchellton as often as he ought to. His grandmother called it the price of success. If he wasn’t spending fourteen hours a day working on a design, he was on a plane heading for Boston, or Paris or somewhere else in the world to inspect one of his projects. It was important to see the buildings go up, to consult with the contractors and make any necessary adjustments. And he loved it. Always busy, always on the go. A far cry from Mitchellton where the sum total of weekly excitement was going to church on Sundays and attending the Friday-night high school football game. Max helped as Annie rinsed dishes and put leftovers in the refrigerator. There was an odd tension about her, and his brow drew together in a frown. “I see you painted in here,” he murmured, noting the pale-blue walls that once were a tired yellow. “After Christmas. It was getting pretty bad.” Annie rubbed her palms across her thighs in a nervous gesture. She’d been edgy for hours, and Max remembered she’d mentioned having something to discuss. Obviously, it was something that made her self-conscious, and he wondered what it might be. Since she’d already reassured him about his grandmother’s health, it probably wasn’t about Grace. “Let’s take a walk,” he suggested. “I haven’t been down on the old levee for years.” “Oh…okay.” Annie waited in the yard while he went into Grace’s house to say they would be gone for a while. When he came out, they followed an overgrown path toward the river. Along this section of the river the road wasn’t built on the levee, so there was a wide place on the top for easy walking. Annie loved this time of the day, when the sun rested gold and mellow above the horizon and the world seemed to be holding its breath. It was still hot, but in the endless moments before sunset, the heat resonated through your body and no longer seemed an imposition. You were part of the land, knowing the evening would soon cool, but in the meantime your senses were tuned to each call of a katydid and the lazy swish of the river. “I keep forgetting how beautiful it is here,” Max commented after a long silence. “Maybe because you couldn’t wait to leave.” As soon as the words were out, Annie winced. Lord, she had a big mouth. Max looked at her. He wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t seem angry. “And you were only interested in staying. That was the biggest difference between us.” “It’s a good place, Max. A wonderful place to raise children and make a life.” “I guess. But you’ve never had kids.” She should have expected him to say something like that, but it still caught her off guard. “No, I didn’t.” Despite her best efforts, the words came out sounding choked. “Annie, what’s wrong? You’ve been tense all afternoon.” She took a deep breath. It was the time to ask, but she was having second thoughts about asking Max to help her. He was too busy with his architectural firm and his city life. Anyway, how could he understand? No one understood. Girls in small towns were just as experienced and sexually aware as the ones in big towns. But somehow Annie had just gotten left behind. She dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands and tried to decide what was more important—her pride or the need to change her life. “Come on, Annie. You can talk to me. We used to talk about everything.” Yeah, right, she thought, rolling her eyes. She adored Max, but there were times when he had the sensitivity of a brick. He didn’t like talking about personal stuff, which was something she’d always respected. Over the years keeping things on a breezy, comfortable level with him had become second nature. “Whatever it is, just say it,” he encouraged. “Maybe I can help.” Annie wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. She might as well jump right in before she totally lost her nerve. “Well…actually, you might be some help. I, er, wondered if you’d…that is, I wondered if you’d kind of advise me about…attracting a man.” Max stared, and it looked as if his face was turning red beneath his naturally tanned skin. But she couldn’t be sure. One of the great blessings of Max’s Native American blood—next to his incredible good looks—was that no one could really tell if he was embarrassed enough to blush. “You want me to…what?” She took a deep breath and tried to sound very practical and reasonable. “Advise me. You know, tell me the right clothes to wear. Teach me about what kind of makeup and perfume men prefer. I could ask one of my friends, but I figure you could save time by avoiding ideas that aren’t right. Maybe we could even do a…a practice date. Or something. Of course I’d pay for everything.” Max didn’t say anything, just kept staring. “Okay. We wouldn’t have to do the date thing,” Annie said hastily. “But the clothes and stuff would help. And maybe teaching me the right things to say.” “What the hell for?” Annoyance flashed through her chest, strengthening her resolve. Why did most women want to attract a man? “I want to get married.” “Jeez.” Max raked his fingers through his hair, looking more frustrated than she’d ever seen him. “Every woman I know wants to get married. They’re batty about the subject. Did you all join a club?” For the first time in her life, Annie understood why a woman would slap a man’s face—it was because of his incredible denseness and stupidity. “Forget it,” she snapped. “Now, wait—” “No. I’m not waiting any longer. I can’t.” Turning on her heel, Annie stomped down the levee. Men were insufferable. Maybe she shouldn’t think about getting married. Maybe she should adopt a child. Adoption was possible. Single women were able to adopt children these days, though it was still harder than if you were married. And that was plenty hard enough. Yet deep in Annie’s heart she knew adoption wasn’t what she wanted. Maybe it was selfish, but she wanted to have a baby. Life was a miracle, whether it was a baby chick breaking out of its shell, or a baby growing inside her womb. And if she didn’t do something about it now she’d never be a part of that miracle. “Annie. Stop.” Her stride faltered. In the distance was a spreading oak tree. It grew in the rich loam of delta soil, drinking river water through its long roots, surviving even the worst of droughts. She’d cried and dreamed under that tree her entire life, and she didn’t want to share it with Max, not today. “Wait.” Max caught her arm, dragging her around to a halt. “All right, I’m sorry I overreacted. Let’s talk about this.” “There’s nothing to talk about.” “Obviously, there is.” They faced each other, both angry in their own way. Distantly Annie remembered what she should have remembered before, that Max didn’t trust marriage. He saw his parents as two people who’d spent their lives choosing and discarding spouses with less regard than most people use to buy and sell a car. But he blamed marriage for his mother and father’s mistakes, not their failure to choose well. “Just forget it,” Annie said after a long moment. She tore her gaze away from Max and stared at the river. It was a green body of water that seemed to move tranquilly through the wide channel. But it wasn’t tranquil, it was a deep, strong river with currents that were deadly if you weren’t careful. A lot like life, her father used to say. “Annie…” Max murmured helplessly. “It just shocked me, especially that part about attracting a man.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry the idea of me being attractive is so shocking.” “Dammit. That’s not what I meant. I’ve always thought you were pretty.” “What a wonderful affirmation of my sexual appeal.” “Will you stop twisting my words?” He reached down and grabbed a rock, flinging it as hard and fast as he could out into the river. The humor, usually so evident in his face, was missing, leaving only darkness. Annie sighed. This really wasn’t Max’s fault. And she wasn’t so much angry, she was scared. The doctor said she only had a few months to make a decision about having a family. She’d always thought that someday she’d meet the perfect man and they’d start a family—like fate or karma unwinding into its proper place. But that ideal “someday” didn’t have time limits, and she did. “I don’t get it,” Max said, making a visible attempt at calmness. “You’re an attractive woman. You must have had plenty of chances to get married.” Annie pushed her fingers inside the pockets of her jeans and shrugged. “Mitchellton is a farm community. People get married young around here. With Dad being sick and all, I never…dated much. Then later most of the guys in our class were already married or gone.” She’d almost said never dated, but wasn’t willing to admit that much to Max. It wouldn’t be easy admitting to anyone that you were a thirty-two-year-old virgin with the dating record of a nun, but it seemed worse saying it to Max. He probably had women lined up at his door, drooling at the thought of meeting him. “Okay.” Max didn’t look convinced, but at least he didn’t seem quite so astonished. “But this idea about me…advising you. I don’t know what I could tell you.” “Like I said, about clothes and makeup and stuff. You’re a man, so you know what guys find attractive.” Max tried to think of a gentle way to say no. He couldn’t help Annie, not the way she wanted. But when he opened his mouth, the words died in his throat. In the depths of her blue eyes was a lingering unhappiness. It reminded him, too much, of the days when she’d finally realized her father was going to die—that no matter how hard she worked, how many tempting meals she cooked for him or how long she prayed at church, he wasn’t going to get better. Max hadn’t been able to help Annie then, but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t try now. “What’s wrong, Annie? Why the big rush?” She swallowed, the muscles working in her throat, and he almost reached out to touch her. Instead he gathered his fingers into fists, waiting. “Uh…well, I have a condition that needs surgery.” It wasn’t what he expected, and a sick sensation slammed through his stomach. “Are you going to be all right?” Annie nodded. “I’m fine, Max. I have cysts on my ovaries. They aren’t serious, at least not at the moment. But if I’m ever going to have children, I have to do something about it. Now. I can’t wait.” Max closed his eyes, unsure if it was relief or rage flooding his veins. Annie didn’t deserve this. Of all the people he knew, she was the nicest. She was sweet and generous. Despite losing her father so young, she had a quick smile and never did anything to hurt another person. “Is it safe, waiting?” he asked awkwardly. Annie’s life was more important than her ability to have children, though he doubted she’d agree. Her shoulders lifted, then dropped. “The doctor says it’s all right for now, but I can’t wait forever. I’ve been given a specific time frame to work with. Because after…after the surgery I might not be able to conceive.” Max could see how much the admission cost Annie. “I see. That’s why there’s a time limit.” “I don’t know if you can understand how important this is,” Annie said hesitantly. “You’ve never been interested in becoming a father, so it probably doesn’t make sense to you.” “No, it doesn’t,” he said honestly. Max didn’t have anything against children, but from what he’d seen, they complicated the dubious institution of marriage even more. “But try me.” Annie rubbed her arms, a distant expression on her face. “I have a good life here in Mitchellton. I’m an honorary aunt to half the kids in town. I’m an honorary member of the PTA. I’ve stood in as a Lamaze coach for my friends when their husbands couldn’t handle it. I’ve even been an honorary ‘sweetheart’ for the men’s group at church.” She stopped, and Max ached at what she’d said…and what she hadn’t said. She was “honorary” everything. A stand-in. It wasn’t enough, not for a woman like Annie. “And when you go home…?” he whispered. “I’m by myself. Except for my rabbit.” Annie gave him a smile, yet her voice shook. “I always thought there was plenty of time for things to change, but it turns out there isn’t.” “The right guy wouldn’t care if you couldn’t have children,” Max said. Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “I care. I don’t think I could marry someone, knowing he might never be a father because of me.” Max wanted to argue the point, but he didn’t know what to say, and it seemed hypocritical in light of his own feelings on the subject. “There’s an alternative, of course,” Annie continued. She looked uncomfortable and he frowned. “My doctor discussed it with me on my last visit. You see, I could have a child without going through the usual…process.” “The usual process?” Max repeated, then suddenly realized what she meant. An alternative—as in getting pregnant in a fertility clinic and bypassing the father’s immediate role in conceiving the baby. “No. I don’t like that alternative,” he said immediately. “Neither do I.” She sighed and kicked a tuft of grass. “And what does your doctor mean, discussing something like that? He’s way out of line,” Max continued, annoyed. Annie chuckled and patted his arm. “She’s just ensuring I know my choices. And I’m surprised at you. Artificial insemination is a very modern process. Why are you so shocked? You’re the one who lives in the city.” “I’m not shocked.” Except he was. The idea of Annie going to a sperm bank tied his guts in a knot. Not that she wouldn’t be beautiful pregnant. Max had a brief, startling picture in his mind of how Annie would look, her tummy round with a child. Heat crawled through him, which shocked him even more. Annie was…Annie. A friend. A terrific friend. She helped his grandmother and reminded him of less complicated times. He could always count on her kindness and sense of humor. But even when he’d been a teenager with rampaging hormones, he’d never thought of her as a woman, except maybe in passing. “…and it’s too dangerous.” Max realized he’d missed Annie’s last statement. “What’s that again?” She scowled. “I said I considered just going out to a bar and trying to seduce someone. But it doesn’t feel right, and I don’t know anything about seducing a man.” “So you need my help…in seducing some guy so you can get pregnant.” Max’s jaw hardened. There was no way he’d let Annie sleep with a stranger. Even if he had to follow her to a singles bar every night, she wasn’t going home with anyone. And he’d punch any guy who tried to get lucky. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t too thrilled to think of Annie sleeping with anyone—but a stranger was definitely out. “Max.” Annie fixed him with a stern gaze. “You aren’t listening. I want to fall in love. I want my child to have a mother and a father. Sheesh. I asked you to help me find a husband, not do anything questionable. Believe it or not, a lot of men want to get married and have a family. It isn’t that unusual.” “Oh. Yeah, right.” The shock of it all was getting to him, turning his normally clear thinking into chaos. “It isn’t as if I’m trying to trap a man,” she said. “Or be underhanded. I just need help getting started. And it’s perfect timing—there’s a new teacher at the school. He was hired just to teach summer school, but the school board’s already asked him to stay and be the coach next year. He’s single and he obviously loves kids.” Max crossed his arms over his chest. “So you’re in love with the schoolteacher.” “No, but we have a lot in common, and he seems very nice—he’s already coaching the football team on his own time. And there’s also the new sheriff,” Annie said. “He hasn’t been here long, and he’s single, but I don’t know how he feels about starting a family.” “Hell, you’ve got this all thought out. What do you need me for?” Max demanded. He didn’t enjoy hearing about these other men, not in the slightest. Her mouth tightened. “Because I don’t know the first thing about dating, even if they did ask me out. And why would they ask? I don’t know anything about clothes or looking attractive.” “You are attractive.” “Max, look at me,” she said insistently. “Really look. Then try to tell me how great I look.” He looked, seeing the way the setting sun turned Annie’s hair into a shining cinnamon halo around her face. A faint breeze off the river blew against her shirt, outlining the slim, curving lines of her body. A pink, healthy glow brightened her face, and her eyes were defined by naturally dark lashes. More than anything she had a mouth that begged to be kissed. Really kissed. The kind of kiss that lasted and lasted because you couldn’t bear to give up the taste. Personally Max thought any guy blind enough to miss Annie’s essential beauty didn’t deserve to go out with her, much less kiss her like that. All at once he shook his head to clear it. What was he thinking? The heat must have gotten to his brains, not to mention his better judgment. “You see what I’m talking about, don’t you?” she asked. “I could try to change my image by myself, but I’m afraid I’ll look ridiculous and waste a lot of time. That’s why I asked for your help. And it’s not like I asked you to find me a husband, or even introduce me to anyone. I can do that on my own.” I hope, Annie added silently. She had flutters in her stomach, butterflies that wouldn’t go away. For a couple of weeks after the doctor had delivered the bad news, she’d been numb. In shock and wanting to deny it was true. But during the past few days she’d realized she would have to take matters into her own hands. Fate obviously wasn’t cooperating with biological reality. “It’s getting late,” she murmured. “We should go back.” It wasn’t that late, but Annie wanted to escape Max’s stunned scrutiny. In hindsight she knew talking to him had been a mistake. From what she’d heard, men didn’t understand a woman’s desire to have a baby. And he was so antimarriage. As for the other part—not understanding her lack of feminine confidence—that was also to be expected. Men complained that women’s liberation had complicated things for them, that they didn’t know how to act around a woman. But it was worse for women. Especially women raised with traditional values. Of course, it wouldn’t kill her to ask the new schoolteacher out on a date. Rejection wasn’t a fatal condition. She might even be willing to ask him out if she could do something about the way she looked. Annie glanced down, the corners of her mouth drooping. Her jeans were too big; she knew that. And the shirt wasn’t right, either. They were convenient for the kind of work she did at the store, nothing else. She’d gone into Sacramento the previous weekend, to a fancy boutique, but the saleswomen were so condescending she’d become annoyed and left without buying anything. A pheasant suddenly burst out of the undergrowth, its wings beating noisily as it flew low to the earth. The rich colors of his feathers were bronzed by the setting sun. The natural world had it easy, Annie decided. They didn’t have to buy clothing or worry how they looked. Nature decked them out and did a glorious job of it. In some cases nature did a glorious job with humans, too. Like with Max. From head to toe Max Hunter was about as perfect as a man could get. A lot of men started to go soft in their thirties, but not Max. He was tall, with strong shoulders and a flat stomach—every inch of his body was balanced power and masculine grace. His face was too masculine to be beautiful, but with his high, carved cheekbones and eyes so dark they were nearly black…just looking at him made a woman breathless. She sneaked a peek at him. He seemed very distant and far away, and she bit her lip. Their friendship was more important than getting his help. Long rays of light lit the garden as they approached the two houses. It was on the extreme edge of Mitchellton, more out in the country than in town. Still silent, Max walked her to the back door. Annie put her hand on the knob, then looked back over her shoulder. “Forget what I said, Max. I’ll manage by myself. I shouldn’t have said anything to you about my…situation. Just knock on the door when you want to drive into Sacramento. I’ll be around all day.” “What about church? Aren’t you going tomorrow?” She swallowed. The children were putting on a special biblical play in the morning, in place of the regular service. They’d worked on the drama for weeks, but she didn’t think she could get through it without crying. Right now all those sweet young faces were a reminder of everything she might never have. “No,” she said huskily. “I don’t expect to attend. I’ve got things to do here at the house.” Max took a deep breath, wanting to say something, anything to fix what seemed unfixable, but Annie quickly slipped inside the house and just as quickly closed the door. He should have said something else, he realized. Or hugged her, the way he’d wanted to earlier. He should have found a way to comfort her. But he’d blown it, letting his ego get in the way of being a friend. With a sigh Max returned to his grandmother’s house and went out to the old sleeping porch. Grace kept a chaise lounge there, to sleep on during the occasional nights when the delta remained hot and humid. She wouldn’t let him put air-conditioning in the house, saying she preferred the old swamp cooler. And in truth, on most summer days the house caught a breeze from the river, making it livable. He lay down on the chaise and put his hands behind his head. It was monotonously quiet away from the city. No traffic or other mechanical sounds, no energy, just the call of crickets and the underlying rhythm of the river in the distance. Max closed his eyes, but he couldn’t escape the memory of Annie standing on the levee, highlighted by the sunset. And he couldn’t forget the longing in her voice. In the end his own feelings weren’t important—he didn’t have to share her dreams to care about them. He would help Annie the best way he could and accept the consequences. Chapter Three “How did you sleep?” The question, coming out of the pink shadows of dawn, startled Annie, and she spun around. “Fine, Max.” It was a lie, but there were certain polite lies you told to protect other people’s feelings…and yourself. He had on the same shirt and slacks he was wearing the night before, which wasn’t surprising since he hadn’t planned on staying over at Grace’s. What did surprise her was seeing him at dawn, especially dawn during the summer. Max was not a morning person. While he might have changed since moving away from Mitchellton, she doubted it. “What are you doing up in the middle of the night?” he asked. The “middle of the night” convinced Annie that Max was just as antimorning as always. “It’s morning,” she said. “You know, birds singing, sun rising, the world waking up.” “Mmm. Waking up implies you’ve gone to sleep.” “I see.” Annie cast a swift glance at Max and saw that he was just as solemn as when she’d left him the evening before. She’d spent a few sleepless hours herself, trying to decide what she should do about Max. He was a friend, and she wanted to keep that friendship, but part of her was angry and frustrated. Just this once, why couldn’t he understand? Wanting a baby wasn’t like saying she wanted to fly to the moon. It was a goal that millions of women set every month, and she wasn’t any different from them. You should consider starting your family within the next six to nine months.… The doctor’s reminder echoed in Annie’s mind, reminding her that things were different for her. In the first place, she didn’t have a husband. In the second, she wasn’t the least bit experienced with men. And last, she might not be able to get pregnant if she didn’t work quickly. Still, it wasn’t Max’s problem, and she ought to apologize. “Annie—” “Max—” She stopped at the same moment he did. “Go ahead,” she murmured. “No. You…go.” They’d never been this awkward with each other, and she felt worse than ever. She should have realized a man would see things differently. Even more, she should have realized that Max hadn’t changed. “I’m sorry about last night,” she said quickly, determined to get it out. “I shouldn’t have asked you to help. I wasn’t being fair.” “You just surprised me, that’s all.” Surprised was an understatement, Max thought wryly. He’d never thought a great deal about Annie’s romantic life. When the guys at high school were making noises about her, he’d made threats about treating her like a lady, but that was the extent of his involvement. Annie was just…Annie. And in less than twenty-four hours he’d had more uncomfortable thoughts about her than in all the time they’d known each other. Well, except for that one time. Max rubbed his chin, remembering. They’d been chasing spilled change from the cash register, and her cheeks had been pink and damp from the heat. She’d seemed so breathless and elemental that he’d had a brief surge of lust before regaining his senses. Odd, he hadn’t thought about that day in years, but it still was crystal clear in his memory. Annie leaned over and moved one of the hoses she used to water the garden. The sun was higher on the horizon, spilling more light into the yard with each passing minute, and Max groaned silently. She’d put on the shorts she used for working in the garden. They were old and stained, the cotton faded and shrunk from being laundered, and he’d seen her wearing them a hundred times…but never quite this way. Never with his body humming with awareness. Really, Annie had very nice long legs and a tight, sexy bottom that was just right to fill a man’s hands. Damn. Max gritted his teeth. “If you want, I can take you into Sacramento right now,” Annie offered as she straightened and shook drops of water from her hands. With an effort he loosened his jaw enough to speak. “That’s all right. We can wait until later.” “Aren’t you worried what Miss Blakely might do to your car?” Max shrugged. “Not really. Buffy is a spoiled brat, but she isn’t stupid. She’ll probably leave it at my condo or the office and express me the keys. She might even drive back to Mitchellton and look for me.” “Oh.” Annie drifted deeper into the garden, and Max could almost feel it growing, embracing her as she moved within it. Ever since he’d moved next door there had been a garden in back of the two homes. At first it was Grace’s no-nonsense vegetables, with young Annie helping to tend the orderly rows of tomatoes, carrots and spinach. Now the garden spilled across both yards and was uniquely Annie’s. Riotous flowers filled every nook and cranny with a cheerful explosion of color. Trellises covered by climbing roses and wisteria sectioned areas of the yard, including a small area Annie had designed to reflect the beauty and style of a formal Japanese garden. He’d helped with that part, installing a water system that included a water lily pond and several small fountains. “Are you hoping she’ll come looking for you?” Annie asked after a few minutes. “Buffy, I mean.” Max frowned at the peculiar note in her voice. “No. Why?” “She’s very attractive.” “I hadn’t noticed.” Annie turned and looked at him. “Really?” she asked dryly. A grin tugged at his mouth. “Okay. I noticed it in the beginning, but the more Buffy talks, the less attractive she becomes.” “Men don’t like talkative women?” “Not when they talk like Buffy,” Max said lightly, yet Annie’s question had reminded him of her so-called plan. She wanted advice on catching herself a husband. Apparently even meaningless scraps of information were important to her, like a teasing remark. He cleared his throat. “About last night—you’re still planning to go manhunting, aren’t you?” Annie rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t have put it in such a crass way, but yes, I still want to find a husband. I don’t have any choice, Max. If I’m going to get married and have a baby, it has to be soon.” “Then I’ll help…any way I can.” He could feel the fires of doom licking at his heels, but there wasn’t anything else he could do. Annie was his friend, and friends looked out for each other. She could get into a lot of trouble if she wasn’t careful. “That’s all right. You don’t have to—” “Yes, I do,” Max said, more sharply than he’d intended. “I was wrong to get so upset when you asked. Cripes, I insisted you confide in me, then acted like a jerk when you did.” A smile hovered on her lips, and he knew she wanted to agree. He had acted like a jerk. A typical knee-jerk male, as his grandmother would say. Grace wasn’t a man-hater by any stretch of the imagination, but she had pithy things to say about human folly. Which raised another question…did Grace know about Annie’s problem? And what would she think of the solution? As soon as the thought formed in his mind, Max sighed. He couldn’t escape the conviction that Annie was making a huge mistake and he was making an even bigger mistake getting involved. “Annie, does my grandmother know about all of this?” She shook her head. “I didn’t want to worry her.” Max plucked a snow pea from a vine and ate the sweet, crunchy pod before answering. “Suddenly transforming yourself might make her worry even more.” Annie rinsed her feet in the water flowing from the garden hose. “Grace can take it. Besides, she’s been encouraging me to make some changes, and we’ve talked about the sheriff and stuff. I’m sure she’ll approve of anything I decide to do.” His eyebrows shot upward. If his grandmother was getting into the act, why did Annie need his help? Yet even as the thought formed, Max rejected it. Grace Hunter had been an attractive, stylish woman of her day, but she wasn’t interested in modern fashion or social customs. “What kind of changes?” he murmured. “To start dating. She seems to think I’ve been turning down all the eligible men pounding down my door.” Though she said the words lightly, Max sensed a wealth of regret behind Annie’s statement. Like most women, she wanted to be beautiful and desirable. And she was beautiful…she just didn’t know it. Now it was worse because of her medical condition. What was it she’d said—that after surgery she probably wouldn’t be able to conceive? Somewhere, beneath all his discomfort with the idea of babies and marriage, Max began to understand Annie’s uncertainty. Her identity as a woman was being threatened. It didn’t matter that the ability to bear a child didn’t make her any more or less of a woman, it was the way she felt. “So,” he said. “Have you changed your mind about going to church? Grandmother said there was a special program today. She’s looking forward to it.” Annie shook her head. “No. But you and Grace come over for lunch after you get back.” She headed for the house, and Max took a deep breath. If only Annie could have asked him for something easy…like remodeling the house or putting in another lily pond. He still wasn’t sure how Annie thought he could help with her crazy scheme, but the whole thing was bound to have more than its share of uncomfortable moments. Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/julianna-morris/tick-tock-goes-the-baby-clock/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. 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