Do You Take This Baby?

by Wendy Warren

  “It’s not our anniversary.” She bopped him on the shoulder. “You boob. That’s almost a month away.”

  “That’s what I thought. So what is this?” He took the slender box she pushed at him.

  “Open it.”

  Sliding off the ribbon, he lifted the lid and—

  “No. Really?” She nodded. “Really?” he asked again, because it was completely unexpected. For three years they’d been trying, unsuccessfully, to get pregnant. Life with Gemma and their son was so rich, so full of possibilities, that his heart had broken more for her than for himself. But now—

  “What do you think?” She bit her full lower lip, brow beginning to furrow adorably with concern. “I know we’re super busy, and you need to focus on college in the fall and Cody starts preschool. And of course I’m working on this PhD, which I don’t mind postponing, but it might be wiser to simply...mmm hmm hmm mmm...” Words lost amidst his kiss, Gemma’s entire body melted when he tossed the positive pregnancy test to the side and showed his wife exactly how he felt about becoming a parent with her. Again.

  Her arms curled around his neck, and her body slid lower on the bed. “I guess you’re okay with it, then,” she murmured when he pulled back to stare at her smooth belly.

  “Our baby’s in there,” he said in wonder, loving the thought.

  She nodded. “For the next seven months.” She twirled a finger in his hair. “Have I told you lately that I’m crazy in love with you, Ethan Ladd?”

  It was the damndest thing—he began to grin at the exact moment he felt the back of his eyes start to sting.

  Gemma was carrying part of him and part of her beneath her heart. And Ethan figured he was the luckiest guy on earth, because he was going to carry their family inside his heart for the rest of his life.

  * * * * *

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  Bidding on the Bachelor

  by Kerri Carpenter

  Chapter One

  Carissa could not believe this was her life.

  She glanced around the nearly empty apartment—excuse her, the luxury condo that until recently she’d shared with her husband. Now the condo was on the market, her marriage was over, and she was left standing in a deserted room, with stacks of boxes the only thing to keep her company.

  Of course, most of those boxes didn’t even belong to her. As she’d packed up almost a decade of her life, she realized that she had very few belongings. Strange, since she’d been surrounded by mountains of items before she and Preston signed on the dotted line.

  Even now, she took a moment to peruse the neatly packed and labeled cartons.

  China—Preston’s grandmother’s.

  Jewelry—Preston’s mother’s.

  Antique desk—Preston’s father’s.

  Only the kitchen gadgets and appliances, clothes, and some old high school yearbooks belonged to her now. And she didn’t even want the yearbooks. She ran a hand over the maroon cover from her senior year. Good old Bayside, Virginia. Maybe she should move back home.

  Carissa snorted. Yeah, right. She’d vowed to never return to Bayside, a promise easily kept after her parents moved away while she was in college. Except for her aunt Val, she hadn’t stayed in touch with anyone from the town where she went to high school. Not her group of girlfriends, not her favorite teachers, not even...

  “Jasper Dumont,” she said aloud, and then sighed.

  Her fingers itched to open the yearbook and search for his picture. She knew what she would see. His blond hair and dazzling blue eyes. That handsome face and devastating grin. They’d known each other most of their lives but for one spectacular year, they’d dated. Their relationship had been amazing and fun and passionate and...she’d gone and ruined it.

  Carissa put the yearbook down. “That was a long time ago,” she whispered. Ten years. A whole decade. She hadn’t communicated with him since, but she did hope his life was going better than hers. She’d broken up with him and headed straight for college. Then she’d married Preston right after graduation and they’d made their life in Chicago.

  We made his life, she thought with another glance around the room.

  Even so, she did need to move somewhere. Chicago was far too expensive. As she’d quickly learned after they announced their separation, most of “their” friends turned out to really be “his” friends.

  Carissa wasn’t much of a crier, nor was she someone who gave in to sulking or whining. But after everything that had happened over the last year, she needed a moment. Just one moment to grieve the loss of her marriage and her life.

  Maybe the problem had been marrying so young. She’d only been twenty-two when they got engaged and twenty-three when she walked down the aisle. But in her defense, she’d dated Preston all through college at Northwestern. His family had been nice and welcoming to her, and Preston graduated with an offer to work at his father’s media company. That made him steady, reliable and stable.

  Three traits missing from her own father, who’d barely worked a day in his life, choosing to live off her mother’s inheritance instead. Well, trust funds dry up, and so did all of the promises people make to each other when they stand at the altar.

  She’d worked in the beginning. Nothing fancy and not directly tied to her business degree. But she’d put in a couple years at an event-planning firm. While Carissa thought she’d done a pretty good job, her heart hadn’t been in it completely. When Preston suggested she quit so she could help him entertain colleagues and clients, she’d jumped at his suggestion. She’d wanted to make him happy, and besides, she’d always loved planning meals, searching different grocery and specialty stores, puttering away in the kitchen. Watching a handful of ingredients turn into scrumptious meals with amazing aromas made her happy.

 
; In fact, she’d enjoyed planning and hosting dinner parties so much that she’d taken countless cooking classes. Moroccan dinners, making pies from scratch, holiday baking, Italian basics...any time she got wind of any type of lesson involving food, she made sure to be the first one in line.

  From Preston to his parents to all of the clients and friends they entertained, everyone raved about her cooking. Soon, she found herself enjoying the kitchen of their luxury condo much more than any other room. Including the bedroom.

  Especially the bedroom.

  Of course, Preston continued to adore that room. Why wouldn’t he, when he was bringing so many different women there to receive a very personal tour?

  Carissa sighed and kicked one of the boxes, cringing when she heard the indelible sound of breaking glass. She checked the label and winced. Figures she’d picked one of the few boxes that held her stuff instead of the mountains of Preston’s belongings.

  She’d signed a prenup, which entitled her to a tiny bit of money. Apparently, the fact that Preston broke their marriage vows did nothing in the way of changing the terms. Oh well. She wouldn’t want someone else’s money anyway. Carissa knew she needed to move on. Now she had to figure out how, why and where.

  She’d already decided that there was only one job she was qualified for. Caterer. Only, that seemed crazy. Who was she to start her own business? Sure, she’d cooked for two to fifty people multiple times a week over the last couple of years. And she did have her business degree. But she didn’t have any practical experience. Not to mention references. It wasn’t like she could go to Preston’s clients or family and ask for their testimonials.

  She also didn’t have a home. She had to be out of the condo by the end of the week. It was going to be tough to cook for anyone when she didn’t even have a kitchen to use.

  She took another glance around the beautiful space and let out another sigh. Preston had surprised her by buying this place. At the time, she’d thought it was romantic, that Preston was taking care of her. Now those idyllic shades from her early twenties had been lifted. Her husband’s buying a condo without so much as consulting with her on any aspect was controlling. Her opinion on the neighborhood had never been sought. Her name had never been added to the mortgage. The moment she’d taken the spare key from Preston’s hand had been the moment she’d lost the first part of her independence.

  She heard a little chirp. Her cell phone. Someone must have left a message. She’d been so engrossed in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard the phone ring.

  Digging her phone out from under a mass of Bubble Wrap, packing tape and newspapers, she saw her aunt Val’s name and number on the display. Carissa quickly held the phone to her ear to listen to the familiar and comforting sound of her favorite aunt’s raspy voice.

  Hey, gorgeous. You better not be moping in that monstrosity you call a condo. Never did like that place. Who puts marble in their bathrooms? And why do two people need four bathrooms? Anyhoo, I’m taking a little trip over the next couple of months. So if you need a place to stay, my cottage will be free.

  Carissa always thought she got her strength and her levelheadedness from Aunt Val. She wasn’t one for mushy scenes or histrionics and neither was her aunt. So she was surprised to hear her aunt’s voice soften.

  I know you have your reasons for staying away from Bayside all these years. Hell, I even understand some of them. But honey, sometimes when life kicks you in the hoo-ha, there’s no place to go but home.

  Carissa didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Since she wasn’t a crier and she didn’t feel like laughing at the moment, she put on her thinking cap.

  Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined herself returning to Bayside. Back in high school, she’d told everyone who could listen that she was meant for bigger and better things. And those things did not include the tiny Mayberry-esque town situated on the Chesapeake Bay in Virginia. To return now, divorced, humiliated, broke, lost...well, that wasn’t exactly appealing.

  She crossed the room and entered the kitchen. After pouring a rather large glass of wine, she leaned back against the quartz counter she’d always loved and considered the kitchen tools she still needed to pack.

  At almost twenty-nine years old, she’d been both married and divorced. She’d heeded her husband’s bad advice and stopped working. She may have a college diploma, but she had no professional experience or useful contacts.

  She eyed her beloved KitchenAid mixer. Cooking was the one thing she was good at. But starting a catering company in Chicago was damn near impossible on a financial level.

  Bayside, on the other hand, could be doable. Many people considered Bayside to be the Hamptons of the South. The town boasted both a healthy working class and an old-school elite who lived in sprawling mansions with immaculate lawns. And the latter group loved throwing parties.

  And people at those parties liked to eat.

  She’d grown up as part of that upper class. The money ran out just as she reached the end of high school thanks to her deadbeat and financially challenged dad. Thank God she’d been able to keep that little secret. Small towns always seemed to have the longest memories when it came to scandals. And Bayside was a town that loved its gossip.

  Carissa’s heart began beating faster. She had a free place to stay, which meant she could put what little money she had into her business. If she did well, she could acquire some much-needed references. Then, if she wanted to branch out and go to DC or down into North Carolina, she could.

  She took a big gulp of wine and then rubbed her hands together. Her aunt’s message was exactly what she needed to hear.

  Carissa still might not know the how or the why. But she finally knew the where.

  Bayside, Virginia, here I come.

  * * *

  Here I come, Jasper thought.

  After months of proposals, number-crunching, presentations, research, wining and dining, not to mention good old-fashioned face-to-face meetings, Jasper was going in for the kill. He needed Arthur Morris to agree to his terms. Since Jasper had taken over Dumont Incorporated, he’d done well. Numbers were up in all divisions, but a deal like this would really go far in persuading the board that he was the right man for the job.

  He rolled his shoulders. The fact that he still had to prove his worth stuck in his craw. But Jasper wasn’t one to dwell on the negative. The board wanted him to bring in more big deals. Game on.

  He’d come so far. Especially considering that he wasn’t supposed to be here at all. His older brother, Cam, should have been heading up the family company, but Cam had decided to buck tradition and started a construction company instead. That opened the door for Dumont child Numero Dos and Jasper had barged right through. He’d always wanted to head up the company. Unfortunately, most of his life he’d been under the impression that he would never get the chance.

  He thanked Cam every day for following his heart. His brother was happy, which made Jasper extremely happy. Because he was now at the helm of Dumont Incorporated and ready to impress everyone.

  “As you can see, Mr. Morris, Bayside would offer you everything you’re looking for.” As they walked around the waterfront, Jasper pointed out landmarks to Arthur Morris. “There’s a lot of tradition in this town. When it’s not the height of tourist season, there are still festivals, charity events and a lot of other town activities. We’ve recently built up the area to the west of the bay and put in a great park. They hold farmers’ markets on Sunday and an artisan and craft fair every Saturday that brings in people from all over the state.”

  He noticed Arthur working his jaw and jumped in before he could object. “At the same time, Bayside is an up-and-coming hot spot according to Virginia Magazine. Also, the Washington Post recently named the town one of Virginia’s best-kept secrets.”

  Jasper fanned his hands out in front of him and
made a box to highlight the site. “Putting the apartments here is a prime location, central to the town square, shopping, nightlife. Not to mention, it’s an easy jaunt to both the elementary and high school for anyone with kids.” He turned and put an arm around Arthur’s shoulders. “And then there’s this.”

  Arthur nodded. “It is one hell of a view. I’ll give you that.”

  And Jasper had timed it to make sure they got the peak sunset with its array of colors blending into the water of the bay. The docked boats were bobbing along as tourists and citizens strolled along the man-made walkway that circled a good portion of the water.

  Jasper was an expert negotiator and he knew he’d made his case. Still, after he’d learned of Arthur Morris’s love of crabs, shrimp and lobster, he added one last detail. “And the seafood is pretty out of this world, if I do say so myself.”

  Arthur turned to face him. “After the dinner we had last night, I’ll agree with that.” He patted his round belly. “Still full from it, but don’t think that will stop me from getting more before I head out of town later tonight.”

  Jasper smiled, but on the inside his emotions were having a dance party. “I thought you’d like that restaurant.” He’d also managed to arrange the best table, with the best view, and had the chef prepare a special menu just for them. That was a definite perk that came with the Dumont name.

  “Listen, kid,” Arthur began, and Jasper folded his arms in front of him, intent on the next couple of sentences. “This has been a great pitch. But honestly, it comes down to the other numbers you put together for me. After that amazing dinner, I studied every sheet cover to cover. The prices you’re offering go a long way and I think the return on investment is worth the risk.”

  Jasper nodded, reining in his excitement. He’d been working on this deal for two years and he wasn’t going to rush now.

  “So I’m saying yes,” Arthur finished after what felt like ten minutes of silence.

  “Great to hear it, sir.” Jasper shook his hand and continued to play it cool. “We’re thrilled to welcome a Morris complex to Bayside.”