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      CHAPTER ONE

      ‘OH, STOP dithering and get it over with!’

      Putting the car back in gear, Emelia turned into the IVF clinic car park and cut the engine. In the silence that followed, she could hear her heart pounding.

      ‘Stupid,’ she muttered. ‘It’s just an admin hiccup.’ Nothing to feel so ridiculously wound up about, but she was tempted to drive away again right now.

      Except she couldn’t, because she couldn’t stand the suspense another minute. She just had to know.

      She took the keys out of the ignition and reached for her handbag. The corner of the envelope stuck out, taunting her, and she stared at it for a second before getting out of the car. There was nothing to be gained by rereading the letter. She’d nearly worn the print off looking at it, but she wished she wasn’t on her own—

      ‘Emelia?’

      ‘Sam?’ Her heart stalled at the sound of his voice, and she spun round, not really believing it—but he was there, not a figment of her imagination but the real flesh and blood Sam Hunter, walking towards her with that long, lazy stride, in a suit she’d lay odds was handmade. She’d never seen him in a suit before. He’d usually worn jeans or casual trousers, but he looked good in it. More than good—he looked even more gorgeous than she’d remembered.

      Broad shoulders, long lean legs, and those eyes—spectacular eyes the colour of slate, fringed with sinful black lashes. They had the ability to make her feel she was the sole object of his attention, the focus of his entire world, and as they locked with hers she felt a rush of emotion.

      ‘Oh, I’m so pleased to see you!’ she said fervently. ‘What on earth are you doing here? Not that I’m complaining! How are you?’

      He smiled, those eyes crinkling, the tiny dimple in his lean, masculine cheek turning her legs to mush. ‘I’m fine, thanks. And you—you’re looking…’

      ‘Pregnant?’ she said wryly, as his eyes tracked over the lush, feminine curves that had grown even curvier, and Sam gave a little grunt of laughter and drew Emelia into his arms for a quick hug. Very quick, because the firm, round swell of her baby pressing against him sent a shockwave of longing through his system that took him completely by surprise. He let her go hastily and stepped back.

      ‘I was going to say amazing, but—yeah, that, too,’ he said, struggling to remember how to speak. ‘Congratulations.’

      ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, feeling a little guilty—which was silly, because it really wasn’t her fault that his brother’s wife still wasn’t pregnant when she was. ‘So—what are you doing here? I thought Emily and Andrew were taking some time out from all this?’

      ‘Yeah, they are. “Regrouping” was the word Andrew used.’

      She scanned his face, really puzzled now; his smile was gone, and she felt her own fade as she read the troubled expression in his eyes. ‘So—why are you here, Sam?’ she asked, and then apologised, because it was none of her business. Only, without Emily and Andrew, the presence of their sperm donor was—well, unnecessary, frankly.

      ‘I’ve got an appointment to see the director,’ he said.

      Hence the suit. Her heart thudded and she felt another prickle of unease. ‘Me, too. I was supposed to come this afternoon, but I couldn’t wait that long. Sam, what on earth do you think is going on? I phoned, but they were really cagey. All they’d tell me was that it’s an administrative anomaly and he’ll explain. What’s an administrative anomaly when it’s at home?’

      He frowned, his dark brows drawing together, his firm, sculpted mouth pressing into an uncompromising line. ‘I have no idea,’ he said after a moment, ‘but I intend to find out. Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s trivial.’

      ‘So—what, then? Any ideas?’

      He gave a quiet grunt. ‘Oh, plenty, but all without foundation. They’ve written to Emily and Andrew, as well, but of course they’re away for a few more days so they haven’t got it yet. And they wouldn’t tell me anything, either, but as you say, they were cagey. The only thing I can imagine is there’s been a mix-up.’

      ‘A mix-up?’

      She stared at him for a moment, then felt the blood drain from her face. ‘This is really serious, isn’t it?’ she said unevenly. ‘Like that thing in the news a while ago about switched embryos. That was horrendous.’

      ‘Yes. I saw the media frenzy.’

      ‘I thought it must be a one-off, because it’s so tightly regulated, but—what if it’s happened here, Sam?’ she asked, her blood running cold. ‘There were only the two of us there that day, me and Emily. What if they mixed our embryos up? What if this is their baby?’ Her knees suddenly weak, she floundered to a halt as it sank in that the baby she’d thought of as hers and James’ might not be hers to keep.

      Tears scalding her eyes, she pressed her fingers to her lips, her other hand going instinctively to shield the baby. No! She couldn’t hand it over to them—but if it wasn’t hers.

      Sam studied her in concern, his eyes drawn to the slender hand splayed protectively over that gentle swell. Please, God, no, he thought. The other batch of embryos had all died before they could be implanted into Emily, but if Emelia was right, then they’d been hers, her last chance to have her late husband’s child, and when this baby was born, she’d have to hand it over to Emily and Andrew, and she’d be left with nothing. All the plans, all the joyful anticipation would be crushed with a few words.

       It’s not your baby.

      The memory scythed through Sam, and he slammed the door on it and watched as another tear spilled over her lashes and tracked down her face. Oh, Emelia.

      He lifted his hands and smoothed the tears away with his thumbs, gutted for her. ‘It may not be that,’ he offered without conviction, his fingers gentle.

      ‘It must be,’ she said, her voice expressionless with shock.