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      She owed him. Big-time.

      A lot more than the glass of icy lemonade she was bringing him now. Intending to give him the drink, say her piece and leave, she called his name. But when he turned around, the only sound she uttered was a gasp.

      Nick had removed his shirt as he put together the swing set, and for the first time she saw his muscles and his broad chest. In the midday sun his pecs and six-pack abs glistened like Cortez’s gold. She stood there, her mouth agape, her mind blank. She’d wanted to tell him something, but couldn’t remember what.

      She closed her mouth and swallowed, snapping herself out of her trance. “Thanks for doing this, Nick.”

      He gave her that devastating smile. “No problem.”

      It was a problem, all right. Her girls loved Nick, so she had to risk spending a little time with him. But could she resist the temptation?

      Dear Reader,

      Welcome to my new three-book miniseries, DALLAS DUETS, about three young women who live in the same fourplex in Dallas.

      The first story is about a woman who feels rather alone in the world—that is, until she reaches out to some young children who really need a change in their lives. I was inspired to write this story because of something I’d seen on television about The Heart Gallery, an organization that enlists the help of the world’s top photographers to find homes for children who are up for adoption. You can find more information about them online.

      I hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always, I hope you appreciate my view about the importance of family, whether it’s made up of people who are related by blood, or a family of your own making.

      If you have any comments or questions, you can contact me at my Web site, www.judychristenberry.com.

      Happy reading!

      Daddy Next Door

      Judy Christenberry

      

www.millsandboon.co.uk

      ABOUT THE AUTHOR

      Judy Christenberry has been writing romances for over fifteen years because she loves happy endings as much as her readers do. A former French teacher, Judy now devotes herself to writing full-time. She hopes readers have as much fun with her stories as she does. She spends her spare time reading, watching her favorite sports teams and keeping track of her two daughters. Judy lives in Texas.

      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

      A suitcase in each hand, Nick Barry shoved open the front door to the fourplex on Yellow Rose Lane. The residential North Dallas neighborhood was exactly what he needed. A tree-lined street, freshly mowed grass and peace and quiet.

      No wonder his aunt had loved this place. Too bad she had to leave it, he thought, but at least she’d sublet it to him. Between the low rent and the amenities, it was a sweet deal.

      He was in the lobby, having used the key Aunt Grace had sent to get in the front door. Now he was trying to figure out which key unlocked his new apartment when he heard someone behind him. He looked over his shoulder but not seeing anyone, he turned back to his task.

      Simultaneously he felt something around his ankle and heard a tiny voice yelling, “I found him! I found our daddy!”

      Shock filled him as he stared at the little girl sitting on the floor with her short, thin arms wrapped around his left leg.

      He’d been a little forgetful lately, what with the change in his life, but he was pretty sure he hadn’t forgotten a child.

      “Missy? Missy, where are you?” This time it wasn’t a child’s voice, but a woman’s. And if the woman herself matched her tone, she was a beauty. The sound came from afar so he decided to encourage her to come closer.

      “Um, I think Missy is with me in the entry hall,” he yelled. He looked down at the towheaded preschooler staring up at him. “You are Missy, aren’t you?”

      She nodded brightly, not appearing at all scared.

      “Missy?”

      The woman was getting closer, but Nick called again. “She’s here with me in the lobby!”

      When the door across from his aunt’s apartment swung open, Nick knew he’d been right: the flesh and blood woman matched her voice. The blond beauty rushed out. “Missy! I told you not to come out here without me! Get back inside at once.”

      “But I found him!” Missy said indignantly, hugging his leg even tighter.

      “Who did you find?” the blonde demanded.

      Nick was finding the situation amusing until two other little girls appeared behind the adult. He’d forgotten three daughters? “Uh, I don’t think—”

      “Missy, let go of—of whoever you are!” The blonde looked at him for the first time.

      “Nick Barry.”

      “Okay. Missy, let go of Nick Barry. He is not your daddy!”

      “Whew! That’s a relief,” Nick said, grinning.

      “This is not a laughing matter!” the young woman said sternly.

      “Why can’t he be our daddy?” Missy asked, still not letting him go.

      “Because I don’t even know who he is!”

      “But we need a daddy!” Missy protested, her tone getting more indignant.

      Nick looked down at the charmer hanging on to his ankle. He set down the two suitcases he’d been carrying and then bent down and picked her up. “Sweetheart, I’m sure wherever your daddy is, he’ll come soon. I can’t believe he’d ever forget you.”

      Suddenly one of the older girls burst into tears and, sobbing, ran back into the apartment across from him.

      “Was it something I said?” Nick asked, frowning.

      The woman stepped forward and took Missy into her arms. “Why are you here?” she asked him, looking around. “And how did you get in?”

      Ah. She’d finally started asking important questions. “I’m subletting this apartment.”

      “Grace’s apartment? She can only sublet it to a relative and what happened to her? The last time I saw her she was doing fine!”

      “She’s moved into an assisted-living facility. And I’m her nephew.”

      “Okay, fine. I’ll deal with you later. Now I have to—”

      “Jennifer, the stove is exploding!” another young voice called out from inside the woman’s apartment.

      “What? Get out of the kitchen! I’m coming!”

      Seemingly without thinking,

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