The Millionaire's Secret Baby. Crystal Green
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There was no easy way out.
Telling him about the pregnancy would clearly lead to him knowing about Emmylou Brown, and that would lead to absolute heartbreak.
But not telling him just wasn’t right.
That’s how she found herself in the San Antonio parking structure of his office building.
Emmy knew he’d be here…. The question was, would she get out of the car when he arrived?
He emerged from the elevator.
Do it now, she thought, forcing herself to step outside to intercept him.
“Deston.”
Dear Reader,
Spring might be just around the corner, but it’s not too late to curl up by the fire with this month’s lineup of six heartwarming stories. Start off with Three Down the Aisle, the first book in bestselling author Sherryl Woods’s new miniseries, THE ROSE COTTAGE SISTERS. When a woman returns to her childhood haven, the last thing she expects is to fall in love! And make sure to come back in April for the next book in this delightful new series.
Will a sexy single dad find All He Ever Wanted in a search-and-rescue worker who saves his son? Find out in Allison Leigh’s latest book in our MONTANA MAVERICKS: GOLD RUSH GROOMS miniseries. The Fortunes of Texas are back, and you can read the first three stories in the brand-new miniseries THE FORTUNES OF TEXAS: REUNION, only in Silhouette Special Edition. The continuity launches with Her Good Fortune by Marie Ferrarella. Can a straitlaced CEO make it work with a feisty country girl who’s taken the big city by storm? Next, don’t miss the latest book in Susan Mallery’s DESERT ROGUES ongoing miniseries, The Sheik & the Bride Who Said No. When two former lovers reunite, passion flares again. But can they forgive each other for past mistakes? Be sure to read the next book in Judy Duarte’s miniseries, BAYSIDE BACHELORS. A fireman discovers his ex-lover’s child is Their Secret Son, but can they be a family once again? And pick up Crystal Green’s The Millionaire’s Secret Baby. When a ranch chef lands her childhood crush—and tycoon—can she keep her identity hidden, or will he discover her secrets?
Enjoy, and be sure to come back next month for six compelling new novels, from Silhouette Special Edition.
All the best,
Gail Chasan
Senior Editor
The Millionaire’s Secret Baby
Crystal Green
To the energetic, enthusiastic, and consistently inspirational
people of www.eHarlequin.com! From the Daily Online Serial to the Teahouse to the Bat Cave to the Hollywood Boards: You all give me a great reason to write. Special thanks to Beverly “Gazpacho” for Emmy’s Scalloped Tomatoes with Pearl Onions recipe. There will be many happy tummies because of you!
CRYSTAL GREEN
lives in San Diego, California, where she writes for Silhouette Special Edition, Silhouette Bombshell and Harlequin Blaze. When she isn’t penning romances, she loves to read, overanalyze movies, pet her parents’ Maltese dog, fence, do yoga and fantasize about being a really good cook.
Whenever possible, Crystal loves to travel. Her favorite souvenirs include journals—the pages reflecting everything from taking tea in London’s Leicester Square to wandering the neon-lit streets of Tokyo.
She’d love to hear from her readers at: 8895 Towne Centre Drive, Suite 105-178, San Diego, CA 92122-5542.
And don’t forget to visit her Web site at http://www.crystal-green.com!
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
“You’re going to get burned, darlin’.”
At first, Emmylou Brown thought the voice—a rough drawl scratching along the low, smooth edges of Texas Hill Country—was just part of the blank sleep she’d drifted into.
Disoriented, she opened her eyes and stared at the endless blue sky. The limestone ridge overlooking the swimming hole abraded her bare back, and her head swam from the heat of the sun.
The voice continued, tinged with wry amusement. “You might want to turn over. The weather’s got some scorch to it.”
Okay, this was no figment of her imagination.
She settled herself up on her elbows, glanced in the direction of the voice. Caught her breath.
The man sat on top of a chestnut quarterhorse, forearm propped on his saddle horn as he inspected her lazily. Scuffed boots with the heels hinged in stirrups, faded jeans stretching the length of his legs, a denim shirt covering wide shoulders and a powerful chest, a Stetson tipped over his cocked brow. Pure cowboy.
Except Emmy knew better.
She gulped, unable to say a word, a ridiculous attraction from years past freezing her in place.
Deston Rhodes.
Did he know who she was, even though they hadn’t been on the ranch at the same time in twelve years?
Her stomach somersaulted, scrambling itself into a mishmash of jubilation. His attention warmed her through and through. She’d fantasized about him since childhood: Deston, sweeping her into his arms like she was a blessed princess, him murmuring, “I always did have my eye on you, Emmylou.”
But as he grinned at her, she realized what he must really be seeing.
A pint-sized twenty-four-year-old waif in frayed jean shorts, the ones she’d torn the legs off of when they’d become too holey to wear in public. A girl wearing a too-tight, worn hankie top purchased from a last-chance sale in a San Antonio mall seven years ago—before she’d left Wycliffe, Texas, to expand her culinary horizons.
She sat up, crossing her arms over her clothes. But she couldn’t hold back a vulnerably hopeful smile. The boss’s son had finally taken note of her, had finally seen past her dull sheen of poverty. Hallelujah!
It was almost too much to wish for.
His horse shifted, and Deston moved with the disruption, his thigh muscles flexing as he controlled the animal without much effort.
“They told me you were somewhere on the property, and it’d be polite to reintroduce myself,” he said. “I’m Deston. The grown-up version, that is.”
So he did recognize her.
He waited, obviously expecting her to return the greeting.
But she was still tongue-tied. The Deston Rhodes was talking to Emmy as if they’d been pals, as if she wasn’t the daughter of the late Nigel Brown, Mr. Rhodes’s personal butler, or as if she wasn’t the girl who’d