LITMIR.BIZ

      Chapter One

      “Congratulations,” the doctor said. “You’re pregnant.”

      “I’m what?” Sitting on the edge of the examining table, CeCe Carradigne wished that, by some miracle, she would suddenly see that another woman had slipped in to the examining room and was now hearing the happy news.

      A married woman. A woman who wanted children.

      There was, however, no one else in the well-appointed examining room. Just unmarried CeCe, who didn’t have a maternal instinct in her body, and Dr. Elizabeth Loesser, known to her patients as Dr. Beth.

      “I take it this pregnancy wasn’t planned,” the doctor said.

      “That’s an understatement.” CeCe struggled to maintain her composure. It was no use. “How did this happen?” she wailed. “Wait. Don’t answer that.”

      Dr. Beth smiled. “I’m sure you know the facts of life, Miss Carradigne…or should I call you Princess?”

      “I wish people would forget about that royalty business,” CeCe said. “I haven’t felt like a princess since my father died.”

      “A pregnancy is something to be welcomed, especially when the mother is in good health, as you are,” her physician continued. “Of course, if you want to consider adoption, I’d be happy to make a referral.”

      A Carradigne, give up a baby for adoption? The tabloids would splash the story across every newsstand in America. Royal Baby to Be Given Away.

      The paparazzi were the bane of CeCe’s life. Even without an adoption to ignite their interest, she shuddered to think what they would do if they learned of her out-of-wedlock condition. “Princess Pregnant, But Where’s the Prince?” they’d trumpet.

      Not to mention the snide remarks that would pass among the executives who reported to her at DeLacey Shipping. They’d already nicknamed her “the barracuda” after she reorganized their departments to increase efficiency.

      “I’m afraid adoption is unacceptable,” she said. “Just give me the vitamins and the prenatal pamphlets.”

      “I’ll send in the nurse with some information,” said the doctor. “You don’t have to go through this alone, you know. I’m sure the father will take responsibility.”

      “The father?” CeCe repeated. Oh, heavens. She’d been so stunned by the news that until this moment she hadn’t given any thought to Shane O’Connell. “As far as I’m concerned, he’s out of the picture.”

      “Oh, dear.” Judging by Dr. Beth’s expression, she assumed the man was married.

      “‘Oh, dear’ is right.” CeCe decided there was no need to fill in the blanks.

      Blast Shane O’Connell! How like that ruffian to try to stamp a claim on her.

      Well, she had nothing in common with the other women he dated, judging by their descriptions in Krissy Katwell’s Manhattan Chronicle gossip column. CeCe Carradigne didn’t hang on anyone’s arm or gaze adoringly into any man’s eyes.

      No, all she’d done was to jump impulsively into bed with that dark-haired, dark-eyed stallion, she thought sarcastically.

      It had been an amazing experience, though. The memory of Shane’s lean hips and probing mouth stirred flames deep within CeCe.

      Annoyed at herself, she finished the conversation with the doctor, only half paying attention. All she could think was, What am I going to do?

      After meeting with the nurse and scheduling her next appointment, CeCe called to summon her driver from a nearby parking garage. Her briefcase stuffed with vitamins and pamphlets, she marched out through the waiting room with the sense of running a gauntlet.

      Heads turned as the waiting patients followed her progress, and she could hear the buzz of conversation even before the door closed. “Isn’t that Cecelia Carradigne?” “She really does look like a princess, doesn’t she?” “It isn’t fair to be so rich and so…”

      It wasn’t fair, all right. It wasn’t fair that CeCe Carradigne, who never quite lived up to her mother’s expectations, should find herself in this mess.

      Pregnant! And by Shane O’Connell, of all men!

      It had been CeCe’s idea to forge an alliance between his package delivery service and DeLacey Shipping, to better compete for international shipping contracts. Although their business interests dovetailed, the negotiations had proved tempestuous.

      Both of them were hard-driving, no-holds-barred people, she supposed. Whenever they found themselves in the same room, they clashed. Except for one night.

      She and Shane had agreed to meet at his apartment, which was more private than the two-story penthouse unit she shared with her mother, one of her sisters and assorted staff. CeCe hadn’t even considered the implications of spending an evening alone with a man at his place, because she didn’t think of Shane O’Connell as a man. He was more of an unavoidable irritant.

      They’d talked business, quarreling as usual while sharing a few drinks. Suddenly, they were all over each other. What on earth had happened?

      They’d both been hideously embarrassed afterward. At least, she had. She’d fled with the briefest of goodbyes.

      When she realized they’d forgotten to use contraception, CeCe had persuaded herself that nothing would result from a single encounter. Half of New York was pursuing infertility treatments, it seemed. Why should she be any different?

      When her period failed to arrive on time, she’d rationalized. Hard work and excuses had kept her fears at bay for a few weeks. Then she’d made this doctor’s appointment.

      There was no more room for doubt. She was carrying Shane O’Connell’s child.

      CeCe descended in the elevator, uncomfortably aware that people were staring at her here, too. The problem with standing five foot eight and having blond hair and green eyes was that people immediately noticed you, and it didn’t take long for them to connect you to the photographs that ran far too often in the newspapers.

      CeCe wished she were an anonymous shipping executive whose problems concerned no one but herself. She also wished, more than anything, that she hadn’t spent that night at Shane’s apartment.

      Outside, traffic jammed the street and pedestrians scurried by, bundled against the February chill. Cold nipped at CeCe’s legs through the front opening in her long coat.

      She would have preferred to wear pantsuits in winter, but her mother insisted that skirts were more ladylike. And what Charlotte wanted, Charlotte got.

      From

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