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There was a possibility that this child was his…
Ryan’s first step was to convince Delaney to do the DNA test. The doors of his heart seemed to be opening, and Ryan had no idea how or why they were doing that. Or if he could even close them again. He took a few steps closer toward Delaney and stopped. It was best to keep some physical distance between them since he wasn’t doing great in the emotional distance department.
“I got some news. The New Hope Clinic was located in the hospital where my son died.” Thankfully he’d managed to lay that out without too much emotion in his voice.
Still holding her son, Delaney made a sound of contemplation. “It doesn’t prove anything.”
Ryan turned his head in the baby’s direction and just like that, their gazes connected. His hair was blond. He kicked his chubby legs and grinned.
Ryan’s breath froze in his lungs. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Because he knew…
Peekaboo Baby
Delores Fossen
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Imagine a family tree that includes Texas cowboys, Choctaw and Cherokee Indians, a Louisiana pirate and a Scottish rebel who battled side by side with William Wallace. With ancestors like that, it’s easy to understand why Texas author and former U.S. Air Force captain Delores Fossen feels as if she was genetically predisposed to writing romances. Along the way to fulfilling her DNA destiny, Delores married an Air Force Top Gun who just happens to be of Viking descent. With all those romantic bases covered, she doesn’t have to look too far for inspiration.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Delaney Nash—Could the donor embryo she used to give birth to her son, Patrick, be the cloned son of her enemy, Ryan McCall? Now, to keep her son safe, Delaney has to turn to this man she fears could ultimately claim her child, and her heart.
Ryan McCall—Desperate for a second chance to raise his son, Ryan is willing to do whatever it takes to keep Delaney and their baby safe. But risking his heart is something he never expected.
Patrick Nash—The child Delaney always desperately wanted and the son Ryan thought he’d lost. But will Ryan lose Patrick again, this time to a killer?
Dr. Emmett Montgomery—Director of the New Hope fertility clinic and the man who possibly wants to cover up what happened with Delaney’s donor embryo.
Richard Nash—Delaney’s father. Is he so obsessed with getting revenge against Ryan and Delaney that he’s willing to commit murder?
Dr. Bryson Keyes—Delaney’s doctor. He possibly performed illegal cloning experiments that resulted in Patrick’s birth. Now he might want to eliminate any evidence of those experiments, including Ryan, Delaney and Patrick.
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 Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter One
San Antonio, Texas
Looking through her rain-spattered windshield, Delaney Nash spotted Dr. Bryson Keyes in the doorway of the private entrance of the New Hope clinic.
Finally.
Soon she’d get answers about what had possibly happened to her son. If Dr. Keyes or one of his associates had done something to harm him…
But she couldn’t even finish that thought.
Her baby had to be all right.
He just had to be.
Delaney blinked back the tears she’d been fighting and watched as Dr. Keyes popped open his oversize charcoal-gray umbrella. Ducking his head against the gusty April wind, he stepped out into the rain and walked toward his car in his personalized space of the parking lot. No doubt his daily routine. Except there was nothing routine about today.
The doctor hadn’t changed much in the thirteen months since she’d last seen him. The same lanky build. The same receding orangy-red hair. Of course, now there was something disturbing about him. But before the questions, before the allegations, Dr. Bryson Keyes had simply been the fertility specialist who’d given her a son, Patrick.
A miracle.
Now, she had to wonder if that miracle was about to become a nightmare.
Delaney got out of her own car, hurrying, and under the meager cover of her own umbrella, she followed Dr. Keyes across the parking lot. The wind and drizzle picked up speed and spit at her, splattering her caramel-colored skirt and probably ruining it in the process. It didn’t matter. Besides, it was a small price to pay to rid her of the questions and doubts that had been tormenting her for the past forty-eight hours.
The thought of the possible answers to those questions knotted her stomach. Again. It caused her heart to slam hard against her chest, and it robbed her of her already too-thin breath. Delaney choked back the worst-case scenarios that kept racing through her head and instead used her determined stride to eat up the distance between Dr. Keyes and her.
Her footsteps, or maybe something else, alerted him, because his head whipped up, and he spun around to face her. His entire body seemed to go stiff, and his watery blue eyes widened with what appeared to be a combination of recognition and concern.
“Ms. Nash,” he said, his words muted because of the relentless slapping of rain on their umbrellas.
“Dr. Keyes.” It took Delaney several moments to tamp down the emotion just so she could speak. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for the past two days.”
He slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and extracted his keys. He checked his watch and gave an impatient glance around the parking lot. “I’ve been busy, and unfortunately I don’t have time to see you now. You can call my office and make an appointment.”
And with that cool, attempted dismissal, the doctor turned to leave. But that wasn’t going to happen. Not until she’d gotten what she came for. Delaney latched on to his arm and held on as if he were her last hope.
Which unfortunately wasn’t too far from the truth.
“I’ve already tried to make an appointment. Several times. Your office claimed you were booked solid,” Delaney accused. “And I don’t think it’s my imagination that you’re trying to avoid me. Guess what? It won’t work.”
He didn’t deny the part about avoiding her. Nor did he offer any polite excuse for why he hadn’t responded to the dozen or so frantic messages she’d left with his secretary and answering service. What he did do was look again uneasily around the parking lot.
“This isn’t a good place