Welcome to Twin Oaks—the new B and B in Cooper’s Corner. Some come for pleasure, others for passion—and one to set things straight…
Check-in: Former TV soap star Rowena Dahl wanted to be a mom, but her biological clock was ticking too fast to wait for some slowpoke Mr. Right. So she opted for the fertility clinic—and was thrilled to be pregnant. There was only one problem. She got the wrong sperm!
Checkout: Editor Alan Rand was outraged that a daytime-drama diva was having his baby. But when he arrived at Twin Oaks B and B he discovered Rowena was now a barber in quiet Cooper’s Corner. She even went to church on Sundays! Rowena was everything he hadn’t expected…and Alan wanted her as much as he wanted their child.
Kristin Gabriel
Accidental Family
Dear Reader,
I live in a village about the size of Cooper’s Corner, so I’m familiar with both the joys and the trials of small-town life! The sense of community is wonderful, and I hope the people of Cooper’s Corner become as real for you as they have for me. When a big-city boy meets a small-town girl in Accidental Family, it doesn’t take long for the whole town to discover their secret.
I hope you enjoy Alan and Rowena’s story!
All my best,
Kristin Gabriel
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
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
HE PASSED THROUGH the common room and turned the corner to the sunporch, a little surprised to find it in darkness. He reached for the light switch, but a soft, small hand came down on his with surprising power, stopping the action. He caught the scent of flowers.
Hands took a firm hold of his arm and pushed him deeper into the room and away from the door. He didn’t resist. This was too promising.
“Why, Mrs. O’Conner, you...” he began as he found himself in the dark corner between the wicker sofa and a bookshelf. But that same small hand covered his mouth.
“Don’t speak!” Colleen whispered. “You’ve accused me of being a matronly coward, and it’s my turn to rebut.”
“I didn’t...” he began, intending to remind her that he hadn’t accused her of such behavior, just suggested she might think that of herself. But he was rendered silent again by soft flesh covering his mouth.
It wasn’t her hand this time, though, but her lips.
While the fragrant darkness pulsed around him and laughter and quiet conversation came from the guest room, Colleen caught his face in her hands and kissed him with passion and ardor.
Surprise held him paralyzed, and she used it to her advantage. Her lips explored his, nudged and nipped at them until they parted, then she dipped the tip of an exploring tongue inside.
Meanwhile, her fingers went into his hair, causing a ripple of sensation along his scalp, down his spine. Her hands followed the line of his neck, across his shoulders and might have explored his back except that she didn’t seem able to reach. They went down his arms instead, then up again, her right index fingertip exploring the rim of his ear, then tracing inside. It began to ring, as though his heart was calling for help.
Every nerve ending in his body was alive and quivering.
Her kiss drew out feeling from deep inside him, and the calm with which he’d handled his sexless life all this time was suddenly smashed to smithereens.
She nipped at his bottom lip one more time, then she dropped her hands to his shoulders, as though holding him in place.
“You super male types think that if a woman doesn’t react to you,” she said, keeping her voice down, obviously in deference to the guests just beyond in the guest room, “it’s because she lacks desire. It seems to escape you that she could be as hot as you are, but simply discerning and not attracted to you. So there. Remember that kiss and try to tell yourself I’m a coward, unable to attract and hold a lover.”
She dropped her hands from him, the blissful moment suddenly and abruptly over. Or so she thought.
He saw her pale eyes in the shadows as she gave him one last, judicious look, then turned away.
He reached out blindly in the dark, caught a fistful of the back of her sweater and pulled her to him.
“If you’re so discerning,” he said softly, wrapping his arms around her as she tried to wriggle away, “I obviously mean something to you, or that kiss wouldn’t have had such impact.”
She looked momentarily at a loss, then tossed her head haughtily. “I’m just more skilled than you give me credit for.”
“You are skilled,” he granted her, “but your heartbeat’s slamming against my chest. Don’t tell me that meant nothing to you except proof of your prowess.”
“It meant there’s chemistry,” she admitted after a moment. “It’s built-in in most of us. It means nothing.”
“If that was simply chemistry,” he argued, “it was nuclear chemistry. Why are you trembling, if it means nothing?” He was going to make her admit she felt something for him if he had to keep her here all night.
* * * * *
CHAPTER TWO
ROWENA MANAGED TO keep the news of her pregnancy a secret for almost three weeks before she finally needed to confide in someone. Knowing she could trust her friend Maureen Cooper, she found herself sitting in the warm, cozy kitchen of the Twin Oaks Bed and Breakfast on a wintry Sunday evening in late January.
“So now you’ve heard the whole story,” Rowena said. “I’m pregnant and I know absolutely nothing about the father of my baby.”
“I can’t believe a reputable clinic would make that kind of mistake.” Maureen, who owned Twin Oaks with her brother, Clint, handed Rowena a mug of hot tea then sat down at the table. Three years younger than Rowena, Maureen stood close to six feet tall and wore her long chestnut hair pulled back in a simple ponytail.
“It’s taken me a while to believe it myself.” Rowena wrapped her hands around the warm mug. “In fact, I’ve been having nightmares about it.”
“You look as if you haven’t been sleeping well,” Maureen admitted. “Have you been eating?”
Rowena shrugged. “To tell you the truth, I haven’t had much of an appetite.”
Without another word, Maureen got up and walked to the pantry. A moment later she was back at the table with two plates, each holding a huge frosted roll. “No one can resist my brother’s homemade cinnamon rolls.”
Clint Cooper was an accomplished chef and locally famous in the Berkshires for his fabulous breakfast buffets at Twin Oaks.
“I can’t eat all this,” Rowena protested as Maureen set a plate and fork in front of her.
“Just eat as much as you can,” Maureen replied, sitting across the table from her. “The baby needs it as much as you do.”
A twinge of guilt jabbed Rowena as she picked up the fork. She had to eat properly, even if food did taste like sawdust in her mouth. But rather than resurrect the nausea that had haunted her for the last few weeks, the first bite of cinnamon roll melted on her tongue. “This is absolutely delic
ious.”
Maureen smiled, then dug into her own roll. “I thought you’d like it. I remember when I was pregnant with the twins, I ate just about everything in sight. I gained almost fifty pounds.”
Rowena smiled, finding it hard to picture the svelte Maureen heavy with pregnancy. A little of her anxiety lessened as she thought of Randi and Robin Cooper. The adorable three-year-olds were well-behaved and so sweet. She needed to concentrate on the baby she’d be bringing into this world and stop worrying about the man who had fathered it.
Easier said than done.
She wouldn’t be able to hide her pregnancy much longer. Right now bulky sweaters covered her expanding stomach. But soon there would be maternity clothes to buy and questions to answer as her condition became obvious. Questions she still wasn’t sure how to answer.
“Any morning sickness?” Maureen asked.
“Just a little queasiness.” She swirled her fork in the icing on her cinnamon roll. “Although I did almost faint in church this morning. Dr. Dorn was there and took me out into the narthex. He was quite concerned until I told him about my condition.”
Maureen smiled at the mention of the retired elderly doctor. “Did he ask you about the father?”
“No, although I’m sure he was curious.” She sighed, then muttered, “Aren’t we all?”
Maureen took a sip of her tea. “You don’t know anything about him?”
Rowena shook her head, the fears that had been keeping her awake at night rising once again to the surface. “Absolutely nothing. The clinic is refusing to reveal any information because of the possibility of a lawsuit.”
“Don’t they realize how unfair this is to you?” Maureen asked, indignation blazing in her green eyes. “I think you should file a lawsuit.”
“I thought about it,” Rowena admitted, “but the last thing I want is for this story to hit the newspapers. Especially if my name is revealed.” She shook her head. “I never want my child to someday discover he or she was conceived as the result of a mistake.”
Maureen nodded. “I understand. But I still think the Orr Clinic could be a little more cooperative. At least give you some kind of description of the man.”
“They claim this particular donor never filled out a profile. Which means the father of my baby could be an eighteen-year-old college student or a sixty-year-old grandfather. Any age. Any nationality. He could be a drug addict or a felon. He could be mentally unstable or have some serious genetic defect.”
Maureen held up her hand. “Whoa, slow down. You don’t have any reason to think the worst. I’ve heard that most sperm donors are medical students. Surely the clinic had a rigid screening program.”
“So Dr. Milburn said, but how can I be certain?” She took a deep breath, knowing from personal experience that even seemingly normal men could have serious problems. That was one of the reasons she’d moved to Cooper’s Corner six years ago. “I’ve already talked to my attorney, and he’s promised to push the clinic for more information.”
“Well, that’s good.”
“The point is, the father of my baby could be anyone. I’m still single because I’ve been waiting for Mr. Right to come along before I started a family. Now, instead of Mr. Right, I’m stuck with Mr. Anonymous.”
“But you didn’t know the other sperm donor, either,” Maureen gently reminded her. “Other than what you learned from his profile.”
She sighed. “I know. I must sound ridiculous. It’s just that I’ve wanted a baby for so long, and now that I’m pregnant it seems as if there are so many things to worry about.”
Maureen laughed. “Welcome to motherhood.”
Rowena gave her a wry smile. “Why didn’t anyone tell me it was going to be this much fun?”
“It will be,” Maureen promised, a soft glow in her green eyes. “The only thing you need to concentrate on for the next few months is bringing a healthy baby into the world. And the first time you hold your new baby in your arms, you’ll know it’s worth all the worry in the world.”
Tears stung Rowena’s eyes. She couldn’t let her worry overcome the miracle of the child inside her. “I have to admit I’m a little nervous. I’ve got textbooks on pregnancy and childbirth piled three feet high on my nightstand. The one I’m reading now says I should feel the baby start to move soon. But there’s so much I don’t know. So much I need to learn.”
“Most of it just comes naturally,” Maureen assured her. “The rest you’ll learn along the way. And you know that I’ll be here to help.”
“Thanks.” Rowena’s throat grew tight. Hormones had made her emotions more unsteady than usual, and tonight they were right on the surface. “That means a lot to me.”
“Does anyone else know about your pregnancy?”
She shook her head, then emitted a tight laugh. “I obviously won’t be able to keep it a secret forever.”
“Well, I won’t tell anyone,” Maureen promised. “This is your news.”
“It’s more like a tabloid story,” Rowena quipped, scraping the last bits of icing off her plate. “But you can tell Clint if you want. And make sure you tell him I have an insatiable craving for cinnamon rolls, too.”
Maureen laughed. “You got it.”
* * *
LATER THAT EVENING, Maureen stood at the front window, watching Rowena drive off into the snowy darkness. She wished there was some way she could assure her that everything would be all right. But there were no guarantees in life. She couldn’t imagine not knowing the identity of the father of her twin girls. Randi and Robin had their father’s blue-green eyes and easy smile. She and Chance had been so in love once, until he’d moved to Paris.
If only things had been different....
Maureen shook herself, refusing to indulge in the game of what if. She loved her life in Cooper’s Corner. Leaving New York and her career as a police detective had been easier than she’d imagined. Too bad she couldn’t leave all her problems behind, too.
Or rather, one particular problem.
His name was Owen Nevil and he wanted revenge. As a police detective, she’d found enough evidence to send Owen’s brother, Carl, to prison for life. Carl had threatened to make her pay for it, reminding her that only one Nevil brother was now behind bars. That threat was the reason she’d left everything behind her and moved to Massachusetts to open Twin Oaks with her brother. She’d had to protect her daughters.
Just the thought of Owen Nevil made a shiver skate up her spine. She was sure he was the one who’d sent the threatening note addressed to her at her old precinct in New York, and now her former boss, Frank Quigg, had alerted her that Owen had skipped parole. Had he found her? Was he watching Twin Oaks at this moment? Spying on her through the glass?
She stepped away from the window even as she told herself she was being foolish. There was no definite proof that Owen had been responsible for the accident she’d had in the woodshed recently. The roof had simply collapsed from the weight of the snow.
Later she had discovered that the beams had been weakened by something that left gnawing marks. Weakened enough to cause the roof to cave in. But had the marks been made by an animal...or by a man?
She thought back to November, when a stray bullet had just missed Twin Oaks guest Emma Hart before it struck her companion. Emma had been wearing Maureen’s coat and scarf at the time. Coincidence? Bad luck? Or was Owen Nevil playing games with her?
The front door opened, making her jump. But it was her brother, carrying in an armload of wood for the fireplace. He kicked the door shut behind him.
“It’s freezing out there,” he said, dropping his bundle near the hearth, then pulling off his mittens. “I sure hope that groundhog sees his shadow next week. I don’t know if I can take six more weeks of winter.”
“And I thought you were a tough guy,” she teased.
“I am,” he assured her. “I just hope all of our guests are warm enough tonight.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Maureen said dryly. “Some of them seem to be celebrating Valentine’s Day early this year. Did I tell you I found one couple necking inside the storage closet this morning?”
Clint reached out and tweaked her hair. “Is that jealousy I hear in your voice, little sister?”
She shook her head. “I’m happily single, thank you very much.”
Clint grinned. “You’d still better watch out. It’s almost February, which means Cupid will be on the loose. I read somewhere that there’s a direct correlation between Valentine’s Day and overcrowding in maternity wards nine months later.”
His words made Maureen think of Rowena, and her heart contracted for her friend. She knew what it was like to give birth alone. To see the fathers of the other babies making goofy faces outside the nursery window. At least her brother had been there for her.
Clint’s grin faded as he studied her expression. “Is something wrong?”
“No, not wrong exactly.” She reached up to brush the snowflakes out of his dark hair. “It’s Rowena. She’s going to have baby.”
He looked surprised. “How did this happen?”
She gave him a wry smile. “The usual way.”
“I didn’t even know she was seeing anyone.”
Maureen hesitated. The details of her pregnancy were up to Rowena to tell, especially since it hadn’t happened the usual way at all. “It’s complicated,” she said with a sigh. “I hope it all works out for her.”
“It will.” Clint assured her. “You’ve done all right.”
“So far,” Maureen replied, pushing her worries about Owen Nevil to the back of her mind. She just hoped she could keep them there.
* * *
ALAN WALKED INTO the Twin Oaks Bed and Breakfast late Monday afternoon, the fire blazing in the huge stone hearth a welcome respite from the bitter Massachusetts cold. During the long drive from Toronto he’d wondered what awaited him in Cooper’s Corner.
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