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      Chapter One

      You never know what’s going to happen when you wake up in the morning.

      You think you do…but you don’t.

      That’s what Jack Sawyer believed now. Less than a week ago, he’d opened an innocent-looking envelope and his life changed in the blink of an eye.

      Settled at his desk on a typical Monday morning, he was sorting through a pile of mail while sipping his coffee and a letter marked “Personal & Confidential” caught his eye.

      He tore it open, read it and—bam!

      A meteor might have landed smack dab in the middle of his sleekly decorated executive office. In the middle of his sleekly decorated life.

      The letter had come from a firm called Dynamics, Inc. He couldn’t place it at first. When he finally did, he cringed.

      Dynamics, Inc. was a sperm bank where he’d impulsively made a donation two years ago. It had been a bleak, frightening moment in his life. Diagnosed with an inoperable tumor, the prognosis had been grim. Given only a few months to live, Jack faced a sad truth. For all his accomplishments and worldly success, he wondered if he’d achieved very much at all. For one thing, he’d never married and had children, a fact he deeply regretted at that moment.

      There had been plenty of lovely, marriageable women in his life and plenty of chances for commitment. Maybe too many choices. Jack didn’t know why, but something always held him back. Somehow, at the last minute, he always sidestepped walking down the aisle, claiming he wasn’t ready. Or deciding that the woman in question just wasn’t “The One.” Maybe he just didn’t want to make the changes a real commitment would demand.

      His lifestyle wasn’t suited to marriage…and maybe his temperament wasn’t either, he thought. He’d bounced around foster homes most of his childhood, some kind and some cruel.

      He’d never felt part of a real family and had never known close, loving ties. No wonder he thought relationships were hard. Work was easy and life was never boring, traveling to the world’s greatest cities, where his skills and vision as an architect were always in demand.

      But during that dark time, Jack couldn’t kid himself. No one really cared who designed a skyscraper or even a monument. Children were the real legacy. Without that bequest to the future, all his worldly accomplishments didn’t amount to much.

      Or so Jack had felt as he faced his mortality. Donating to a sperm bank seemed some small consolation. There had been some extra scrutiny, due to his medical situation, but finally, he was accepted as a donor. Jack had been thankful and relieved. If he was going to leave this world without having children the traditional way, at least his DNA—and perhaps even some portion of his spirit—would live on.

      A few weeks later, Jack happily learned he wasn’t a doomed man after all. A cloud on his MRI had caused his condition to be misdiagnosed and his tests results had been inaccurate. With luck, he would live a long life and had time enough to marry and have children if he wanted…the usual way.

      Jack sat back and had a good laugh. A sperm bank? What in the world had he been thinking?

      He contacted Dynamics, Inc. immediately and withdrew his donation. The organization told him that his genetic material was never given out and Jack was relieved to hear it.

      And that was that.

      Or so he thought.

      Now, two years later, the laboratory had written that they’d made a mistake. A recent audit revealed that Jack’s sperm had in fact been administered at least once before it was removed from the bank.

      It took Jack a few moments to consider the full implications. Once he did, he was nearly blown out of his cushy leather desk chair.

      Some unknown woman out there could have become pregnant with his “donation” and given birth to his baby!

      What did this all mean? What should he do? Could he even find out this woman’s identity and what had happened to her?

      Within seconds, Jack was on the phone to his attorneys. “Why look for trouble?” he was told. “The chances are incredibly slim, Jack. Less than one in a million.”

      Jack had to agree. But he couldn’t let it rest. He felt nagged by a strange stirring, down deep in his gut. He had to know for sure if this particular long shot had come in. The information was confidential, but the high-powered law firm that represented him was good at pulling strings and coaxing open sealed files.

      After a few days of anxious waiting, his gut instinct was validated. Jack was stunned to learn that he was indeed a father.

      Rachel Reilly was the child’s mother and the baby, a little boy born about ten months ago, she’d named Charlie. But the investigators hired by Jack’s attorneys had found out precious little more.

      Rachel Reilly was single, twenty-nine years old, a clothing designer who specialized in children’s wear. She’d been living in Manhattan and working for the same clothing company since she’d graduated college. But a few months ago, she sold her city apartment, pooled all her savings—including a small inheritance from her mother’s recent death—and bought a house in Vermont. The small village she’d chosen was just over the New York