LITMIR.BIZ

      “I’ve decided to have a baby.”

      Caleb swore, and Laurel saw that he’d poured wine on the counter.

      “You didn’t just tell me you’re pregnant.”

      “No. I told you I’m going to get pregnant.”

      His eyes narrowed. “That usually requires a woman and a man.”

      “You know I can’t… I don’t want…”

      What she thought was anger faded from his face. “I know. So you’re—what?—planning to find a donor?”

      “I already have.” She busied herself dumping noodles into the now boiling water. “You know Matt Baker?”

      Caleb’s tone was careful, controlled. “Why him?”

      It was the last thing she’d expected him to ask. “He’s a friend. And smart. He’s nice. Healthy…”

      “Did you consider asking me?”

      From somewhere she found the courage to whisper, “What would you have said if I had asked?”

      Dear Reader,

      Let’s say your best friend is a guy. You want to have a baby. He’s smart, nice, has good genes. Why would asking him to father your baby change your relationship at all? I mean, hey—you’ve been friends forever.

      Done laughing? After all, having a baby changed your relationship with your husband, right? But in my heroine’s defense, she turns to her best friend because of a whole lot of complicated fears and needs. He feels safe to her. Of course, he isn’t at all.

      First Comes Baby drew together several themes that seem to preoccupy me as a writer: the aftereffects of traumatic life events, the powerful need to have a child and the emotional vulnerability pregnancy brings. Best of all, I finally had a chance to write about the transformation of friendship into passionate love, a process that proved easy— Caleb is one of my all-time-favorite heroes.

      I hope you fall in love with him, too!

      Best,

      Janice

      First Comes Baby

       Janice Kay Johnson

      ABOUT THE AUTHOR

      Janice Kay Johnson is the author of nearly sixty books for adults and children. She has been a finalist for the Romance Writers of America RITA^® Award for four of her Harlequin Superromance novels. A former librarian, she lives north of Seattle, Washington, and is an active volunteer at and board member of Purrfect Pals, a no-kill cat shelter. When not fostering kittens or writing, she gardens, quilts, reads and e-mails her two daughters, who are both in Southern California.

      Dedicated with love to Mom,

       my best friend and constant support

      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 ONE

      LAUREL WOODALL had been sure that asking a man to father her baby—without any sexual privileges—had to be the hardest thing she’d ever done.

      But no. That conversation paled in comparison to this one.

      Asking said man’s wife whether it was okay with her was definitely worse.

      The two sat across their dining room table from Laurel, their chairs placed so close together that their shoulders touched. After dinner, they’d sent the kids to do homework, take baths and get ready for bed. Sheila and Laurel had cleared the dirty dishes and loaded the dishwasher, chatting in the way of two people determined to pretend they didn’t feel at all uncomfortable with each other, even though that was a flat-out lie on both their parts. Then they’d poured coffee and returned to the table.

      Laurel took a deep breath, clasped her hands in her lap and said, “Well, I assume Matt told you what I wanted to talk about.”

      Sheila, a freckle-faced redhead, nodded.

      “Um…how do you feel about it?”

      It. Great word. It could sum up anything from a brightly wrapped package to a great big favor. Like the donation of sperm, the fathering of a baby. But it, little tiny word that it was, implied the request was nothing special.

      Beside his wife, Matt all but quivered like a tuning fork. He must know what she thought, but not necessarily what she’d say.

      “I have a few questions.”

      “Of course.” Laurel smiled as if they were talking about vacation plans, not something so desperately vital to her.

      “Would your child know Matt was his father?”

      “That would be entirely up to you. I was hoping that he—or she—would.” Secretly, she wanted a girl. “That we could be pretty matter-of-fact. I could say, ‘I wasn’t married and I wanted a child, so I asked one of my best friends if he would be your daddy.’ There are plenty of other alternative families around.”

      “That means our children would have to know, too.”

      “Yes, I suppose so. But you could explain the circumstances to them the same way.”

      “Are you expecting Matt to take any real role as father?”

      “Again, that would be up to him, and to you, of course. If he was around, a friendly uncle kind of figure, that would be great. Am I expecting him to want joint custody or every other weekend? No.”

      “Wow.” Sheila looked into her coffee cup as if for answers.

      Wrong beverage. No tea leaves there.

      Laurel leaned forward. “What if I were sitting here tonight telling you I’m pregnant? Wouldn’t you gather my baby into your family, the way you always have me? If I were asking you to be godparents…”

      “I wouldn’t hesitate,” Sheila admitted. “But…this is different.”

      “I asked Matt because I know him. I’m comfortable with him. And…well, honestly, because your kids are so fantastic.”

      It was the right thing to say. Sheila’s face softened.

      Matt puffed out his chest. “I’m a proven stud.”

      His wife elbowed him. “They are fantastic, aren’t they? Although I’m inclined to think I’m more responsible than he is.”

      They grinned at each other, as in love, Laurel suspected, as they’d been on their wedding day. That was another reason she’d asked them. Their marriage was solid, their relationship trusting. Sheila wouldn’t wonder even for a second if there was anything funny going on between her husband and Laurel.

      She sighed then. “I’m sure most of my hesitation is based on some kind of atavistic response. You know. He’s my man, and I don’t want to share his genes. But another part of me knows that’s

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