It Started with a Pregnancy

by Christy Jeffries

  It isn’t puppy love.

  But when one night leads to babies on the way, is a forever family far behind?

  Animal rescue director Rebekah Taylor isn’t a pet person—or the family type. But now she’s pregnant and a newbie parent to an adventure-loving stray dog nobody can catch. Kind of like Grant Whitaker, the fancy-free tech consultant who’s not your typical daddy-to-be. Except this dude’s sticking around. Can Grant persuade Rebekah to trust in him and the future they’ve started creating together?

  “So you’re saying dating me wouldn’t be aboveboard?”

  “First of all, we’re not dating.”

  Grant tried to ignore the pang of disappointment Rebekah’s words brought him despite the fact that he’d told himself the same thing the past several weeks. “Okay, obviously we’re not dating. I think we both made it pretty clear that night that we weren’t in the market for a serious relationship. However, with circumstances being what they are—” he managed a pointed look at her still-flat stomach behind the lap belt “—don’t you think people are going to eventually find out that you’re pregnant?”

  Just then a loud yip sounded from somewhere in the back of the car. Grant and Rebekah nearly butted foreheads as they whipped their necks around quickly. A mangy animal with long, gray fur covering its eyes poked its head up from the storage area in the very rear of the car.

  “What in the hell kind of animal is that?”

  “I think it’s that stray dog that everyone has been trying to catch.”

  * * *

  FUREVER YOURS: Finding forever homes—

  and hearts!—has never been so easy

  Dear Reader,

  I was so excited to participate in the first Furever Yours series stories for Harlequin Special Edition. I’m one of those people who gets teary-eyed every time I go to an animal shelter, so a story about a pet rescue makes me want to run out and adopt all the animals.

  In It Started with a Pregnancy, secondary characters Bunny and Birdie Whitaker reminded me of our longtime family friend Patty. Patty loves dogs, cats, baby bunnies, wild birds, you name it. We joke that she provides her local veterinarian with so much business, they should name a wing after her.

  But Patty doesn’t stop with animals. She has the ability to make every single person with whom she interacts feel important. As a kid, I adored Patty so much, I even tried to dress like her, usually in a matching pink tracksuit and headband. Going to her house for our girls-only slumber parties always made me feel so special—even when Tootser, her crotchety schnauzer, constantly growled at me. I swear, Tootser had to be the meanest dog who ever lived and yet he was her baby.

  But even dogs like Tootser need a home and their own Bunny/Birdie/Patty to love them. I’m hoping that It Started with a Pregnancy, as well as the first five books in the Furever Yours series, brings more awareness to all the wonderful animals out there looking for their forever homes.

  For more information on my other Harlequin Special Edition books, visit my website at christyjeffries.com, or chat with me on Twitter, @christyjeffries. You can also find me on Facebook and Instagram. I’d love to hear from you.

  Enjoy,

  Christy Jeffries

  Facebook.com/AuthorChristyJeffries

  Instagram.com/Christy_Jeffries/

  It Started with a Pregnancy

  Christy Jeffries

  Christy Jeffries graduated from the University of California, Irvine, with a degree in criminology, and received her Juris Doctor from California Western School of Law. But drafting court documents and working in law enforcement was merely an apprenticeship for her current career in the dynamic field of mommyhood and romance writing. She lives in Southern California with her patient husband, two energetic sons and one sassy grandmother. Follow her online at christyjeffries.com.

  Books by Christy Jeffries

  Harlequin Special Edition

  Sugar Falls, Idaho

  A Marine for His Mom

  Waking Up Wed

  From Dare to Due Date

  The Matchmaking Twins

  The Makeover Prescription

  A Family Under the Stars

  The Firefighter’s Christmas Reunion

  The SEAL’s Secret Daughter

  American Heroes

  A Proposal for the Officer

  Montana Mavericks

  The Maverick’s Bridal Bargain

  Montana Mavericks: The Lonelyhearts Ranch

  The Maverick’s Christmas to Remember

  Visit the Author Profile page at www.Harlequin.com.

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  To Patty Kawano Barberio. Thank you for taking a young and sometimes smart-mouthed girl under your wing and being a bonus role model. You showed me how to shop for jewelry, how to play blackjack, how to travel independently and how to love dogs again. Most importantly, you showed me how to be kind to others. You are the heart of my hearts.

  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

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Excerpt from Having the Soldier’s Baby by Tara Taylor Quinn

  Chapter One

  Rebekah Taylor stared at the pregnancy test in her hand. How could it be positive? They’d used protection, one of the condoms she’d gotten as a gag gift from a friend’s bachelorette party a couple of years ago. Sure, the thing had been an embarrassing shade of glittery pink, but it should have worked in the heat of the moment.

  Except it hadn’t.

  Had the condom expired? Rebekah glanced at the reflection of her wide, panic-filled eyes in the mirrored medicine cabinet. Every six months she methodically went through all her kitchen and bathroom cupboards and threw out everything that was even close to its expiration date.

  How had she missed something as important as this? Sighing, she slouched lower on the toilet seat. Probably because she’d hidden the little heart-shaped box in a back corner of her nightstand drawer, where it was out of sight and out of mind. It probably would’ve stayed in its hiding spot indefinitely if she hadn’t been so desperate.

  And so lonely.

  Although, at least she’d had a condom to start with, unlike the carefree Grant Whitaker, who’d come to her house unprepared for a one-night stand eight weeks ago. Not that either one of them had been expecting things to get physical that night.

  In fact, Rebekah hadn’t been able to stand the guy the first few times he’d visited Spring Forest, North Carolina. Flying in from Florida in his board shorts and T-shirts and flip-flops every couple of months, he looked more like a surf instructor than any kind of business professional.

  And the weird thing was, for such a relaxed-looking guy, he’d always watched Rebekah like a hawk. She was the director of Furever Paws, his elderly aunts’ nonprofit organization, yet he constantly kept his eye on her—as though he expected she would stuff her pockets full of dog biscuits and sneak them into the puppy kennels if his back was turned. Of course, he was pretty much lik
e that with everyone who worked at the shelter. Everyone who wasn’t family, at least. The guy was undoubtedly protective of his relatives.

  “Nobody would mistake you for being a part of the Whitaker family,” she told her reflection. As a biracial woman with an African American mother and an Irish American father, Rebekah’s deep bronze skin and black, springy curls were a stark contrast to Grant’s lighter, sun-kissed complexion and wavy blond hair. Would their baby favor one of them over the other? Or would their child be blessed with the best of both gene sets. “Stop it!” she commanded herself. She’d barely known about the pregnancy for three minutes and already she was letting her emotions overrule her logic.

  Maybe that first test was just a dud. Rebekah frantically tore open another package, this time from the manufacturer that promised a plus sign instead of two striped lines. Ten minutes later, though, the result was the same.

  She would’ve sunk to her knees right there in her brand-new townhome and curled herself into a little ball if she’d thought it would help. But grown women with mortgages and MBAs and lead positions at nonprofits didn’t break down and cry every time something went wrong.

  They examined the problem, researched solutions and made lists of what to do next. Taking out a pad of paper she wrote down, 1. Make doctor appointment. She got as far as writing the number 2 on her to-do list, but then couldn’t think of what she should do next.

  Tell Grant?

  A tremor shook through her at the thought of how that conversation might go. The man would probably react in one of two ways. He might say, “Right on,” and then eventually forget about her and their kid because they didn’t fit with his bachelor lifestyle. Or he might accuse her of getting pregnant on purpose to trap him—just like Trey once had.

  There really wasn’t any sense in doing anything until she’d confirmed things with the doctor. Crumpling the list in her hand, she tossed it into the wastebasket, right on top of the pink-and-blue boxes.

  Walking to the kitchen, she flipped on her coffee machine out of habit before remembering that pregnant women were supposed to limit their caffeine intake. A tic started at her temple and Rebekah wondered how she could possibly give up coffee for nine whole months.

  Wait. Longer if she decided to breastfeed.

  Her cell phone pinged behind her and she turned and swiped the screen, looking at the text message her mom had just sent.

  Did we book my class’s field trip for the first or second Tuesday of September?

  Rebekah pinched the bridge of her nose. Her mother was a first-grade teacher and had been begging Rebekah to set up a tour of the pet rescue for a bunch of six-year-olds. Thank goodness she didn’t have to deal with that headache today.

  Mom, it’s scheduled for the eighth. I put it in the online calendar I set up for you last week.

  Dimples, you know I’m never going to use that calendar thingy. It’s too complicated. Plus, your dad accidentally deleted the app off my phone when he was trying to reset our wi-fi password.

  Before Rebekah could respond, another message popped up on her screen. This time from her dad.

  Hey there, Dimples. Your mom screwed up our wi-fi password again and I can’t find the paper where you wrote down all our log-in codes. Any chance you can come up this weekend and reset things for us?

  Rebekah was convinced that her parents purposely remained technologically challenged because it gave them the perfect excuse to summon their dutiful daughter home for long weekend visits. Normally, she didn’t mind the thirty-minute trips to Raleigh, but Rebekah wasn’t quite ready to face them yet.

  After typing a detailed response to her father, including a description of where she’d filed their log-in information and an online link to a video giving them a step-by-step tutorial on how to change their password, Rebekah found the number for a local obstetrician with excellent ratings and took a deep breath before placing her call.

  A male receptionist answered and Rebekah had to clear her throat several times before finally getting the words out. “I think I might be pregnant and I’d like to schedule an appointment with Dr. Singh.”

  “Congratulations,” the deep masculine voice replied and Rebekah took solace in the fact that at least there was one man in this world who was happy about her revelation. “How far along are you?”

  “Um, I’m thinking eight weeks,” she offered, going off the app on her phone that tracked her cycle. She could organize everything else in her life to a T, but much to her frustration, she’d never been very regular when it came to her periods.

  “And do you know the date of conception?”

  Embarrassment threaded through the lower half of her torso, squeezing around her stomach. Of course she knew the exact date of conception. She even remembered the spicy lettuce wraps and the blackberry mojitos that had been on special during that fateful happy hour. It had only been one night of weakness. Yet apparently, one night was all it took. Instead of admitting as much to the receptionist, she simply told him the date.

  “Usually Dr. Singh doesn’t see her patients until they’re closer to twelve weeks. I can put you on the books for October.”

  Rebekah clenched her jaw so tightly, her back molars vibrated. It was currently the end of August and there was no way she could wait that long without knowing for sure. She hated to even think about the last time she’d found herself in a similar situation, let alone use it as an excuse to garner special treatment. However, she needed to take action, she needed to be in control of the situation this time. “Actually, I have a history of ectopic pregnancy, so I’m sure the doctor will want to see me sooner.”

  “Of course,” he replied, and she heard him tapping on a keyboard. “In that case, the soonest we can get you in will be next Thursday.”

  He listed the appointment openings, and after finding one that worked for her schedule, Rebekah wrote down the time in her day planner. Then she mumbled her thanks and disconnected the call so she could also program the appointment into the calendar app on her smartphone.

  Getting into the shower, she made a firm decision to put the whole thing out of her mind until next week.

  That vow lasted a whole forty-five minutes—when her teal blue Fiat was idling at the intersection near a large chain drugstore. She glanced at the clock on her dashboard and wasn’t surprised to see she had plenty of time to swing inside, grab some prenatal vitamins and still get to work half an hour early.

  When she came out of the pharmacy, she walked over to Great American Bakery, because she couldn’t very well take the vitamin on an empty stomach. Besides, if she couldn’t have coffee, then a warm chocolate croissant would be the next best thing to settle her nerves. No, not her nerves. She refused to be nervous. This uneasy feeling in her tummy was simply due to hunger. Or the pregnancy cravings she’d only heard about but never experienced.

  Climbing back into her car, she realized that she’d surely get crumbs and chocolate all over her brand-new silk blouse. Many of the people employed at Furever Paws wore much more functional clothes for working with animals, but Rebekah had a lunch with a potential donor this afternoon and then a city council meeting tonight. Her bosses, Bunny and Birdie Whitaker, were going to request a zoning ordinance to allow for a cell tower on their farm, which adjoined the pet rescue’s learning center. The tower would provide the sisters some much-needed financial revenue, and it would provide the town’s new development of Kingdom Creek some better wireless service.

  Not everyone in the suburban town was happy with how quickly their little city was blossoming, though, so she was expecting to confront some annoyed townspeople tonight.

  By the time she pulled into her parking spot at work, her stomach was growling and her temples were pounding from the beginnings of a headache—probably due to a lack of caffeine. Grabbing the bags containing the vitamins and the croissant, she tried to shove both in her already full tote.

/>   It wasn’t like her to pick up a breakfast treat and not bring in a box to share with everyone else at work. However, she didn’t necessarily feel very social this morning and just wanted to sneak into her private office and hide behind a mountain of paperwork and a closed door.

  Many of Rebekah’s coworkers were more focused on the rescue center’s animals than on the humans who worked there. So hopefully nobody would notice that her entire world was threatening to topple off its axis. She checked her reflection in the rearview mirror, assuring herself that there was no sign of a pregnancy glow or anything else that might give away her secret before she was ready to disclose it.

  Thankfully, it would be easy enough to avoid Grant until she was able to confirm that her pregnancy was real—and had worked out the best way to tell him. She’d already managed to avoid him since their night together, although it helped that he lived in another state. The last contact she’d had from him was the note with his cell number that he’d left the morning he sneaked out of her townhouse.

  Not wanting the temptation, she’d immediately thrown the number away without programming it into her own phone. As amazing as he’d made her feel that night, there was no way she could allow a repeat performance of their one-night stand. And even now, there still might not be a reason for her to call him. Her pregnancy wasn’t confirmed yet—not officially. Her father had made his career on giving people advice and was especially fond of the phrase, Don’t borrow tomorrow’s problems today. Rebekah repeated those words in her mind.

  Balancing her purse and tote bag on one shoulder, Rebekah grabbed her other two bags and used the thick wedge heel of her espadrille sandal to close the car door behind her.

  She took a deep breath before heading toward the entrance and then froze at the sound of the unmistakable deep voice coming from behind her. “Looks like the early bird definitely gets the worm all to himself this morning.”

  Grant Whitaker was unfolding his long, athletic frame from some nondescript rental car she hadn’t even noticed in the parking lot. Right this second, he didn’t look so much like an early bird as he did a hawk. Wait. That meant that she would be the worm in this scenario. Although, she couldn’t deny that she was currently trying to slink on by without drawing his deep blue gaze and giving herself away.