Baby, Be Mine (Holiday Brides Series)

by Baird, Ginny

  BABY, BE MINE

  By

  Ginny Baird

  Published by

  Winter Wedding Press

  Copyright 2013

  Ginny Baird

  Digital Edition

  ISBN 978-0-9895892-3-9

  All Rights Reserved

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient, unless this book is a participant in a qualified lending program. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. To obtain permission to export portions of the text, please contact the author at GinnyBairdRomance@gmail.com.

  Characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination.

  Edited by Linda Ingmanson

  Cover by Dar Albert

  BABY, BE MINE

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  About the Author

  Books by Ginny Baird

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  A Note from the Author

  About the Author

  From the time that she could talk, romance author Ginny Baird was making up stories, much to the delight—and consternation—of her family and friends. By grade school, she’d turned that inclination into a talent, whereby her teacher allowed her to write and produce plays rather than write boring book reports. Ginny continued writing throughout college, where she contributed articles to her literary campus weekly, then later pursued a career managing international projects with the US State Department.

  Ginny has held an assortment of jobs, including school teacher, freelance fashion model, and greeting card writer, and has published more than ten works of fiction and optioned nine screenplays. She has additionally published short stories, nonfiction and poetry, and admits to being a true romantic at heart.

  Ginny is the author of several bestselling books, including novellas in her Holiday Brides Series. She’s a member of Romance Writers of America (RWA), the RWA Published Authors Network (PAN), and Virginia Romance Writers (VRW).

  When she’s not writing, Ginny enjoys cooking, biking, and spending time with her family in Tidewater, Virginia. She loves hearing from her readers and welcomes visitors to her website at http://www.ginnybairdromance.com.

  Books by Ginny Baird

  Holiday Brides Series

  The Christmas Catch

  The Holiday Bride

  Mistletoe in Maine

  Beach Blanket Santa

  The Holiday Brides Collection

  (Books 1 - 4)

  Baby, Be Mine

  Summer Grooms Series

  Must-Have Husband

  My Lucky Groom

  The Wedding Wish

  A Summer Grooms Selection

  (Books 1 – 3)

  A Haunted Holidays Special Edition

  The Ghost Next Door

  Other Titles

  Real Romance

  The Sometime Bride

  Santa Fe Fortune

  How to Marry a Matador

  Real Romance and The Sometime Bride

  (Gemini Edition)

  Santa Fe Fortune and How to Marry a Matador

  (Gemini Edition)

  Chapter One

  Nikki Constantino dabbed the corner of her eye with a tissue. There was so much dust in the room, her allergies were going wild. It caked on the fake flowers in the blue vase and hung heavy in the musty air. No one must have cleaned this study in years.

  The stout little man studied her kindly through horn-rimmed glasses. “I know this is hard. You and your aunt must have been close.” Snow slapped the windowpanes behind him, painting icy streaks down the glass.

  “Actually, I barely knew her.” She sniffed, and Jack draped his arm around her. He gave her shoulder a light squeeze, the silent signal between them that everything would be all right. She didn’t have to look at him to know his dark brown eyes were focused on the attorney in a way that said, Don’t sugarcoat this. Give it to us straight.

  “Nikki hasn’t seen her Great-Aunt Mallory in years.”

  “Not since I was little. Ten, I think.”

  The attorney studied the papers before him and licked his plump lips. “Uh-huh,” he said, thumbing through them. “Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh.”

  Jack loudly cleared his throat. “Isn’t there something you’re supposed to read?”

  The lawyer stared at Jack. “To Miss Constantino, yes. Frankly, not understanding your relation to the deceased, I’m not certain you should be here.”

  Nikki defensively took Jack’s hand. “He’s my best friend!”

  “Friend, huh?” the other man asked, appearing amused. “I was hoping you might say fiancé.”

  Nikki glanced quickly at Jack, noting his neck had deepened a shade. “Why on earth would you say that?”

  “Might make things less complicated.”

  Nikki would like to see how they could get more complicated. Here she sat, summoned to some tiny Midwestern town in the thick of winter, at her late great-aunt’s behest. And, she hadn’t a clue why. Her memories of Aunt Mallory were less than flattering and concerned an overbearing woman tottering on tiny heels. Her face was pasty pale from too much pressed powder; her lips were fire-engine red. She never seemed to get the color within the lines. And when she opened her mouth to speak, even her portly beagle, Duke, took refuge under the bed. Whether the meatloaf was overcooked or the thermostat set too low, Aunt Mallory could deliver a tongue-lashing bent in the direction of anyone careless enough to get in her way.

  For the first few years after Nikki’s grandma died, her mom, Emma, felt sorry for her late mother’s spinster sister and invited her to join them for holidays. The invitations abruptly stopped after Mallory threatened to stuff poor Duke and pop him in the oven as a replacement for the too dry Thanksgiving turkey. Emma surreptitiously placed Duke with an animal rescue and sent Aunt Mallory packing. It was a transgression Aunt Mallory would never forgive. Not, apparently, until her dying day. She left her niece, Emma, nothing, and she didn’t even know about Nikki’s baby brother since he’d been born after she’d broken family ties. As far as Aunt Mallory was concerned, her only other remaining heir was her grand-niece, Nikki.

  The attorney addressed Nikki as winds howled outside. Or maybe those were the cows crying. Could cows cry from relief, Nikki wondered? They were on Aunt Mallory’s dairy farm, all fifty acres of it. Nikki certainly hoped her aunt didn’t leave her that. She didn’t know the first thing about farming. Plus, she was lactose intolerant. “Do I have your permission to proceed?”

  She squeezed Jack’s hand, then released it and patted his knee. She must have patted one too many times, because Jack suddenly pinned her palm in place right against his pants leg. Nikki sometimes had a nervous habit of doing something over and over, but only when she was stressed. “Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of Jack.”

  “Very well.” He shuffled some papers. “I’ll read what she said in her handwritten note.”

  “Handwritten?” Jack interceded. “Isn’t a will supposed to be typed or something? Notarized?”

  “She had one of those. This was written after. It supersedes the other.”

  Jack sat back in his chair. “I see.”

  She was glad he’d come along. When things crowded in on Nikki, she sometimes felt driven to react quickly, a
nd not always in the best-thought-out ways. Like when her knee-jerk reaction was to refuse Mallory’s invite from the grave to come here. Jack said she shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth until she at least knew its breed. He was right, of course. There’d be no sense in refusing an inheritance sight unseen. It was just the fact it came from Aunt Mallory that made it seem unpromising. Jack was good for things like that: helping her stay charted in the right direction. She teasingly called him her compass. He didn’t seem to mind the moniker. He’d had it since the tenth grade.

  “I, Mallory Gertrude Greene…”

  “Gertrude?” Jack quipped quietly beside her. She slapped his hand with her free one. He still firmly held the other. She tried to tug it away, but he resisted.

  “Being of sound mind and body,” the attorney continued, “do hereby bequeath my entire estate—”

  “Entire estate?” Nikki asked him. “What’s that mean?”

  “I’m getting to that part. To the one relative on earth who never insulted me…”

  “That’s because I was terrified,” Nikki whispered to Jack.

  “My great-niece, Nicola Carina Constantino…”

  Nikki swallowed hard.

  “Under the following conditions…”

  “I didn’t think the deceased could set conditions,” Jack said.

  “They can do anything that they want,” the attorney answered. “Before I proceed, I need to read this stipulation.”

  “That’s different from a condition?” Nikki wanted to know.

  “It’s a footnote.” He turned the paper sideways to read something scrawled along its edge. “It says here… Important! In order to inherit, Nicola must be over the age of twenty-five. Otherwise—”

  “Yes.” Jack pumped his fist in the air, and the attorney lowered his glasses.

  “This will go a lot faster without the commentary.”

  “Sorry.” He glanced apologetically at Nikki. “It just seemed like that was a score.” She’d recently turned twenty-eight, so that wasn’t a problem.

  The man rolled his eyes and resumed reading. “Otherwise, the estate will be held in trust until such time Nicola reaches the age of twenty-five and is therefore is suitably mature to meet the aforesaid conditions. Assuming she does, she’ll be at liberty to dispense of her inheritance as she chooses.”

  Nikki’s head was spinning already.

  “That means you can sell the farm.”

  “Good.” She didn’t know much about real estate, but Jack was business minded. He could help her. But wait! What if I can’t sell quickly enough? What will become of the cows? I don’t know a thing about milking! Yikes! What if Aunt Mallory didn’t leave instructions? Will the poor cows explode? Would that make me guilty of—gasp—uddercide?

  Jack tightened his grip on her hand, sensing she was growing tense. “Breathe,” he told her quietly. He demonstrated by sucking in air.

  She inhaled a deep breath then let it go, feeling better. Thank goodness Jack was here. They both turned toward the attorney, who gaped at them.

  “How much is it worth?” Jack asked.

  The attorney raised his wrinkled brow. Nikki noticed it was flecked with age spots. “You don’t know?”

  She and Jack shook their heads. “This dairy has an arrangement with all the major distributors: grocery chains, restaurants… Biscuit Barrel…”

  “Biscuit Barrel?” Nikki asked in surprise. She and Jack had stopped at one of those on the way here from the airport. Who knew Jack’s patty melt was secretly connected?

  “That sounds big,” Jack said.

  “It is big,” the attorney answered.

  “How big is big?” Nikki wanted to know.

  “Estimated value of this farm and all your aunt’s investments? Just over two million dollars.”

  Jack choked on the words. “Did you say two…million?”

  “That’s right. With an M.”

  Bright flares of light blasted before her, and Nikki wondered if she was growing faint. It was like the Fourth of July had come in December. The attorney and Jack were still talking, but she could barely hear them for all the commotion going on in her head. This was what it must feel like to win the lottery. Crazy, exhilarating… Totally surreal! She could quit her day job! Help her mom! No wait, without working, she’d probably be bored. She could become a professional playgirl, maybe. One of those jetsetters she’d heard of. Maybe even take Jack on a vacation with her. She owed him one good trip at least, after all he’d done. And to think, just last week, she’d worried over paying her heating bill.

  “Nikki,” Jack said, “didn’t you hear any of that?”

  “What?”

  He clenched his jaw before speaking. “Condition one.”

  “No,” she said breezily, mentally sketching out an itinerary. The Bahamas? Bermuda? Maybe the Caymans? Yes. Jack would probably like that. “What’s condition one?”

  The attorney stared at her flatly. “That you marry by Valentine’s Day.”

  “Ma…marry?” she stammered. Impossible! Nikki didn’t even have a boyfriend at the moment.

  The attorney righted the hand-scrawled page. “Tie the knot. Get hitched. Ball and chain. Hook, line, and sinker, yes.”

  “She wrote that?” Jack asked in shock.

  “Every word, including that next thing about the baby.”

  “Baby?” Nikki squeaked. Now she was certain she would faint.

  The attorney shook out the page and flipped it over. “That’s condition two.”

  “Your Aunt Mallory apparently thought she could dictate not just your marriage but your entire life,” Jack said, growing indignant.

  “She does give you an extra year for the child. To produce one, I mean.”

  “Great!” Nikki chirped cheerily. “Mallory’s just the one to give family advice!”

  “Maybe she wants you to have what she didn’t,” the attorney noted astutely.

  “What makes you say that?” Jack asked.

  “It’s in her PS here. And this is to Nicola. PS: Just in case you’re wondering why I’m doing this, dear child, it’s for your own good. Life is too short to die embittered and alone. It might take a while, but you’ll understand this yourself one day. You’ll be thanking me until the cows come home.”

  “Until the cows come home?” Nikki asked weakly.

  “It’s an expression,” the lawyer said.

  Jack translated. “For a really long time.”

  “Huh?”

  “Cows are very slow creatures,” the lawyer explained. “I think she meant forever.”

  “Oh.”

  “This is crazy,” Jack said to the lawyer. “You know it is.”

  He held up his hands. “I didn’t make the rules here. I’m just the referee.”

  The fog in Nikki’s brain lifted. “Can we contest it?”

  “Sure you can.” He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Just as long as you think you can move things through the courts before that February fourteenth deadline.”

  “But that’s less than eight weeks away!”

  “What if we can’t?” Jack asked.

  “It’s a risk. You’ll have to prove that Mallory was unstable when she wrote this. I mean, more so than in her previous days. You’ll also have to find a judge who will hear your case. We’re not talking weeks now. We’re talking months. Years, more than likely. But you’re young. You’ve got plenty of time.”

  Yeah, maybe she did, but her mother didn’t. Nikki would have to talk to Jack about that. Talk to him seriously. “What becomes of the farm in that case?”

  “It gets stuck in probate.”

  “And the cows?”

  The attorney stroked his chin. “The people your aunt hired to work this farm can continue for a while but not indefinitely. Certainly not without being paid. Mallory left behind enough money to keep them on through the end of February. At that point, I think she assumed you’d either take over running the business or sell it off.”

/>   Nikki’s voice rose in panic. “But I don’t own the business.”

  “You will by February fourteenth—if you marry.”

  Jack finally released her hand and leaned forward on his elbows. “And if she doesn’t?”

  “Everything will be liquidated and absorbed by the state.”

  “What do you mean liquidated?” Nikki asked. “They won’t hurt the cows?”

  “I can’t say what will become of the cows. Perhaps another dairy will take them, or they’ll be farmed out to different ones. There are other options too. But you may not want to hear about them.”

  Nikki gasped. She was about to become responsible for uddercide. How horrifying!

  “Holy cow,” Jack said. “This is a mess.”

  The attorney handed Nikki a weighty portfolio. “I’d encourage you not to make any rash decisions until you’ve read this. In spite of what you think of it, your Aunt Mallory’s bequest to you was really quite generous.”

  Nikki nodded numbly, seeming to have lost all sense of time. “What day is it?”

  “December twenty-fifth,” Jack said.

  The attorney dismissed them with a smile. “Merry Christmas.”

  Jack stopped Nikki as she was about to lay her hand on the latch that opened the barn door. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Winds whistled around them, riffling through her layered brown hair. It fell in waves past her shoulders above her puffy white coat and was now dotted with flakes from the driving snow. She met Jack’s gaze with pretty blue eyes that had his caused his heart to skip a beat ever since high school. Not that she’d ever know he still felt that way. That was Jack’s little secret. “Positive,” she told him. “One hundred percent.” But when she shoved at the latch, it appeared to be frozen.

  Jack had to muscle in beside her to get it unstuck. “Here, let me.”

  Her hand-knit mittens with the funky patterned stitch slid out of the way just as loud mooing erupted. Nikki jumped back with a start. “What was that?”