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      “I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to speak to me again.”

      “Jen.” Matt couldn’t stand to see her so upset. “I’m not about to stop speaking to you. This isn’t about me.”

      “Actually, yes, it kind of is. I told you my ex’s father asked me who my fiancé was. I had to come up with someone. Quick.” She snapped her fingers in rapid succession. “I barely had a second to catch my breath, much less think before I spoke.”

      “Y-yes…?”

      “I just told him the first name I thought of.”

      “Which was…?”

      Matt’s phone rang, much to his irritation. His inclination had been to ignore it, but he couldn’t very well do that if it might be for Jen. He’d barely answered when his father’s voice boomed, “Just what are you thinking, getting a girl in trouble, planning a shotgun wedding and not even letting your own father know about it?”

      A Pregnant Proposal

      Elizabeth Harbison

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MILLS & BOON

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      To my Paige and Jack, and to the man who is a hero to us all, John.

      Books by Elizabeth Harbison

      Silhouette Romance

      A Groom for Maggie #1239

      Wife Without a Past #1258

      Two Brothers and a Bride #1286

      True Love Ranch #1323

      *Emma and the Earl #1410

      *Plain Jane Marries the Boss #1416

      *Annie and the Prince #1423

      *His Secret Heir #1528

      A Pregnant Proposal #1553

      ELIZABETH HARBISON

      has been an avid reader for as long as she can remember. After devouring the Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden series in grade school, she moved on to the suspense of Mary Stewart, Dorothy Eden and Daphne du Maurier, just to name a few. From there is was a natural progression to writing, although early efforts have been securely hidden away in the back of a closet.

      After authoring three cookbooks, Elizabeth turned her hand to writing romances and hasn’t looked back. Her second book for Silhouette Romance, Wife Without a Past, was a 1998 finalist for the Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA Award in the “Best Traditional Romance” category.

      Elizabeth lives in Maryland with her husband, John, daughter, Mary Paige, and son, Jack, as well as two dogs, Bailey and Zuzu. She loves to hear from readers and you can write to her c/o Box 1636, Germantown, MD 20875.

      KANE HALEY

      Note to self: Who’s having my baby?

      Trudy—hopeless romantic, office gossip, can’t keep a secret. If it’s not her, she might know who it is!

      Lauren Connor—dates a lot, trying out new looks to impress her boss, was out sick with stomach flu. Hmm…

      Sharon Davies—recently trapped in an elevator with a major client, blushes whenever he’s around, looking a little green lately. Could she be carrying my baby?

      Leila—makes eyes at me. Is it more than a crush?

      Maggie Steward—my personal assistant, wants children, clock is ticking. She would never go to a sperm bank!

      Julia Parker—worries that her endometriosis could make her infertile. No man in her life. Definite sperm bank material!

      Jennifer Martin—eight months pregnant. Is it her late fiancé’s baby? Is it mine?

      WHEN THE LIGHTS WENT OUT…

      A PREGNANT PROPOSAL

      THE MAKEOVER TAKEOVER

      LAST CHANCE FOR BABY

      SHE’S HAVING MY BABY!

      KANE HALEY, INC.

      CHICAGO, IL

      Contents

       Prologue

       Chapter One

       Chapter Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Epilogue

      Prologue

      “I’m sorry.” Jennifer Martin dabbed at her teary eyes with a tissue and tried to hold back a sob. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

      “You don’t know what’s wrong?” her friend, Susan Bane, repeated incredulously. “Five weeks ago your fiancé died during a tête-à-tête in the Caribbean—with a married woman, no less—and you don’t know why you’re upset?”

      Jen blew her nose and tried to get comfortable on the stiff leather couch Philip had insisted was more “elegant” than the cozy down one she’d preferred. It was one more thing to be irritated with him about, and that irritation with a dead man was one more thing to feel guilty about. Lately that was the way her emotions chased each other around; first anger, then sadness, then guilt.

      “Okay,” Jen said, taking a bottle of antacids off the side table and popping one of them into her mouth. It tasted chalky and disgusting, but she forced it down. “Obviously I have things to be upset about, but lately I’ve

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