1

Sheri O’Connor stood in the doorway of her twins’ bedroom and watched the two peacefully sleeping. A huge swell of love filled her soul while tears of thankfulness flooded her eyes. No one could love their babies more.

Seeing that she was a surrogate mom, it wasn’t supposed to have ended this way. The precious little ones were to have been her gift to a woman she loved like a sister and the man who adored her. Sadly, things change.

Exhausted, Sheri tiptoed forward to cover the two angels huddled close together in the same crib. She kissed her fingers then touched them to their silky hair. They had taken a while to settle this afternoon. It must be the heat. With the back of her hand, Sheri swiped at her dampened forehead. In Washington, DC, when it was hot, it scorched.

A doorbell broke the silence and made her wince, then grin. Oh no! Not Charly again. Her neighbor was a worrywart about her and the children. Her help had gotten Sheri through the bad times and now they were very close, but she had promised to stay away so Sheri could catch up on some much-needed sleep.

Again the doorbell pealed; this time followed by an impatient knock. Moving quickly to the front entrance, Sheri wrenched the door open.

The tanned, good-looking man leaning against the doorjamb wasn’t Charly. This mysterious male reached well over six feet, and looked to be pure trouble. His head, held at a cocky angle, and especially his cold gray eyes affected Sheri. Maybe tiredness made her unusually grumpy, but she wanted her bed and this man looked like he had a mission.

Her bare feet, naked legs, and rounded belly still recovering from recently giving birth received a laser-like scan. From his scowl, he either didn’t like her clothes or her looks. She noticed his full lips curl slightly as his eyes skimmed her mess of hair, which had escaped the confines of her clip and now hung in total disarray over her bare shoulders.

Not one to dress fancy at home, Sheri nonetheless wished she’d chosen something other than the low-cut, thin cotton blouse with the frills that directed one’s eye to the protruding breasts below. The favored blouse never worn outside the apartment for that exact reason was her sheerest and therefore the coolest one she owned. Sheri straightened her shoulders, refusing to be intimidated.

“Can I help you?” Her voice sounded huskier than normal. Tiredness did that to her.

He eased upright and asked. “Are you Sheri O’Connor, Mary-Anne Rivera’s friend and her surrogate mother?” His voice vibrated with fake courtesy, a strong accent and a mesmerizing quality that might fool a fool.

Sheri was no fool.

“Yes.” The name of her deceased friend, spoken by a stranger, pierced her, forcing her to brace herself. Stepping back, she folded her arms across her stomach, this time to conceal her shaky reaction. She cocked her head, copying his style.

“Miss O’Connor, may we go inside and talk? You look ready to collapse, and I wouldn’t want to upset the mother of my brother’s baby. Come.” He clasped her arm with one hand and beckoned behind her with the other. An emotion, very like pain, registered in his expression. It beguiled her for several seconds, until big city rules of safety kicked finally in.

She wrenched her arm away from his grasp and stood her ground. “Your brother’s baby? What’s your name, and why are you here?”

***

Apprehension attacked Sheri. Before he spoke, she clasped her hands to stop them from trembling

“My name is Miguel Rivera. I am Felipe’s brother.” Taking advantage of her momentary speechlessness, the man moved forward into her space, forcing her to back up, and then grabbing his small bag, he closed the door behind them. Before she could react, his elegantly shaped fingers reached into the expensive, brown leather jacket, to the inside pocket, and he pulled out his wallet. He showed her his identification, aiming it close for her scrutiny. His ID security license from the federal government surprised her.

“Trust me. I’m here to help you. May I call you Sheri?” When he spoke in the low tone and turned his head slightly, for the first time, she spotted a similarity in his facial structure to Mary-Anne’s husband. Contrary to Felipe, who’d always been fastidiously groomed, this man appeared thin, bordering on gaunt, making her wonder if he’d been sick recently. His black hair reached his shoulders with the flowing waves pushed to the back of his head, as if he’d finger forced them away from his face. A scruffy beard hinted that he’d come straight from the airport, as did the overnight case settled on the floor by his feet.

Upon closer inspection, she realized she should have known right away that he was a relative of Felipe’s. Not only were their slanted eyes the same smoky-gray, and covered by thick, perfectly shaped eyebrows, but her careful scrutiny revealed their general appearance and strong features were similar also. The way he wore his expensive clothes should have been another indication, although Felipe favored suits whereas his brother’s style looked to be more casual.

”Yes, of course.” Inwardly she scolded herself and then stopped after a few seconds. She couldn’t be blamed for not recognizing Miguel as Felipe’s relative. Even though she’d known Felipe had a brother, one he talked of quite often and had obviously adored, she’d never met him before and his cold emotionless demeanor separated the two brothers by a wide chasm. Felipe had defined South American charm and graciousness. He’d smiled more than any other man she’d ever known, whereas this man—he intimidated.

Resentment pushed past her control. “Good of you to appear now, four months after your brother and Mary-Anne were killed.” Where had he been when she’d sent the news of their death in a car accident? Or when the shock had started her labor pains, and she’d had to face the birth of his brother’s babies alone?

“You’re right to be annoyed. I should have been here, Sheri. And I would have if at all possible.”

Sheri recognized his acute frustration and stopped her recriminations. Don’t be so judgmental. He’s here now. Give the man a chance to explain.

Why did her instinctive fairness always have to override the very few occasions when nastiness kicked in? Because she was a pushover, that’s why. The guy did look exhausted, and ill, and the visible misery trapped deep in his eyes coaxed her sympathy. Okay, she’d listen. If he doesn’t have a good excuse, she decided, then I’ll boot his spiffy ass outta here.

“Come with me where it’s a bit cooler,” she said, her voice softened considerably. She led him to an airless crowded living room where a wobbly ceiling fan twirled, hummed and intermittently groaned.

Tucked in the corner of the small space nestled a playpen and other baby paraphernalia. A quilted baby seat sat on the floor and on every piece of mismatched furniture, some sort of evidence that babies lived in the apartment could be seen.

She motioned for him to sit on her sofa while she folded into the thrift-store, ivory-colored rocker. Light filtered through the white sheers and intensified the pale green walls. The room sparkled from her ministrations of the night before when, sleepless and brimming with an overabundance of energy, she’d cleaned. Now she felt glad she hadn’t just vegged out and watched one of her pre-recorded TV shows.

Sheri’s days and nights seemed to be reversed due to all the feedings she had to manage, and many times her way to deal with the latest heat wave was either to read, work, or watch some brain-dulling program. Her low-budget place looked its grungy best, but she had to admit that today extreme weariness ended up being the ultimate price.

“Can I get you a glass of iced tea?” She motioned towards her dewy glass full of ice and golden-brown liquid set on the small coffee table.

“No. Thank you. I’ve come as quickly as I could to see—”

Unconsciously her hand lifted, palm towards him. “My friend and your brother were killed over four months ago.” She emphasized the words brother and months.

Miguel’s large frame seemed to shrink right in front of her eyes. Both hands lifted to his hair as he threaded his fingers through the wild mass. Finally, he looked up. “Yes, you are right. My mother and I were out of the country. We didn’t know anything about Felipe until yesterday morning when we returned to Santiago. I’m sorrier than I can ever put into words, but our absence was unavoidable.” He hesitated and added words that softened her heart. “And unforgivable. We will have to deal with our guilt. I understand you did everything possible to find us. I regret you could not, and that you were forced to carry on with the funeral arrangements alone—especially when you had your own grief to deal with, and a small baby to look after.”

“Not one small baby. Two. A boy called Rafael and a girl, Carrie-Anne.”

“Two? How wonderful!” He smiled for the first time since he’d arrived. Sheri, shocked by the difference white teeth and curved lips made, felt the ice further melt around her attitude. Now the resemblance to Felipe became undeniable.

Not a person to hold grudges, and hating to be at odds with anyone, Sheri smiled as well. Because she couldn’t shake off feelings of depression once the babies were born, the doctor explained to her that many mothers underwent slight personality changes after delivery. No one could blame her for having the occasional meltdown. Especially since, she’d given birth to surrogate twins and buried their parents within the same week.

After their return from the hospital, she’d struggled to stay positive and keep things going. Without the help of her neighbor Charly, she didn’t know how she could have managed.

A cleared throat recaptured her attention and she raised anguished eyes. “Sorry. For a moment you looked so like your brother that it brought back memories.”

“Memories of Felipe?”

“Yes and Mary-Anne. She and I met in kindergarten and were closer than sisters. We grew up next door to each other and shared all our secrets. She wanted nothing more than to stay home and be a wife and mother and I wanted to travel the world.” She sighed and smiled. “Funny thing the way life throws out unexpected hurdles. Mary-Anne left our small town in Canada to move to New York to pursue her job, while I remained to look after my father.”

He returned her smile and surprisingly, her heavy spirits seemed less weighty. “But you live here in DC now?”

“Yes. After my father passed away, I had nothing left to keep me home.”

“No husbands or boyfriends to hold you there?”

Angry disgust replaced the soft look on her face, and his reactive frown made her aware that he’d seen her change. In a clipped voice, she cut him off from the subject. “I left no one behind who mattered.”

“I see.” He nodded, his attention riveted.

“Mary-Anne begged me to come and live here so we could be near to each other. Once I arrived, she found me this apartment and I settled in.”

“She was an editor, wasn’t she? Worked for one of the big publishing companies in New York?”

“Yes, but after she met and married Felipe, they sanctioned her moving here to Washington so she could be near him. It was either move her or lose her. They gave her their blessings and a company laptop. I guess they had no choice. She would have quit because she loved him more than anything.” Emotion welled and filled her with sadness. In a husky tone, she added, “The only strain in their relationship was her overwhelming need to give Felipe children. Ironic isn’t it? He owned half of an In Vitro clinic, spent his days helping others get pregnant, and then finds his own wife can’t conceive.”

“Therefore, she hired you to help them—”

Did he sneer?

She cut him off. “No. I offered my services, and they both gratefully accepted my gift of love.”

Seeming to realize that he’d overstepped, he backed off and added. “So he mentioned when he called home to tell us the happy news.”

He’d put Sheri’s hackles up, and she felt the bitchiness return. She stood, hinting his time had run out. Then looking down she added, “Mary-Anne’s requests were clear about her remains, and because I knew nothing of Felipe’s wishes, I treated him the same. I buried some of his ashes with his wife, but I also saved some to send to his beloved Chile as soon as I could contact your family. I hope that meets with your approval?” Sheri stared at Miguel. She noticed his hands tremble as he rubbed at the beard darkening the lower part of his face. The little sign of weakness in such a strong man affected her more than anything else had in a long time. She moved over and sat on the sofa near him, then reached out involuntarily to touch his shoulder.

A grim expression replaced the fleeting vulnerability. “That was very considerate of you. My mother will be pleased to have some part of him placed where she can visit often.” He kept his eyes lowered.

“It’s what Mary-Anne would have wanted,” Sheri said. “She loved him so very much and felt extreme affection for you and your mother when they visited Chile on their honeymoon.”

“And we thank you,” Miguel said gently. “Now, I’ve come with a proposition.” He spoke the words in a low voice, which caught her attention. In seconds, his face altered, a steely look replaced the sadness.

She shivered with apprehension and eased away from him.

“Whatever amount my brother offered to pay you for having a baby for him and Mary-Anne, I will double. No, change that. I’ll pay you whatever you want. As the uncle, I claim the right to adopt the babies, and take them home with me to Chile, to live with their grandmother.”

***End of Preview***