Excerpt of Her Baby's Hero by Karen Sandler

She wanted to see him.

Jason Kerrigan tightened his grip on the wheel of his
silver Mercedes as he headed up Interstate 80 toward Reno.
Six months with no contact, then out of the blue a letter
from Ashley Rand.

Not a letter. Little more than a note: "I need to talk to
you," neatly penned, followed by her name, address and
phone number.

Surely she didn't want to rehash that night at his
apartment in Berkeley — not six months later. It might
have been a mistake on a massive scale — never mind how
incredible the sex had been — but he figured she'd said it
all when she'd walked out without a word.

The tires squealed around another tight curve. He wrestled
the car back into his lane as it hit the warning bumps.
He'd just passed the town of Marbleville and from the
Mercedes's GPS system, he knew the Hart Valley exit was
another seven miles ahead.

What could she possibly want? Was she in some kind of
financial bind and needed money? She'd never seemed
particularly impressed with his wealth, but necessity
could be a strong motivator. If it was money she wanted,
this would be a short reunion.

He didn't have time for this. He should have pressed her
harder to tell him what she wanted over the phone, saved
him the six-hour round trip. Maybe she thought he'd have a
harder time saying no to a loan face-to-face. Obviously,
she'd never sat across the table from him in a business
negotiation. Few executives in the high-tech industry
relished a confrontation with Kerrigan Technology's
youngest CEO.

As a Bay Area native, tiny little backwater towns like
Hart Valley weren't exactly his cup of tea. Too many
trees, too much dirt and likely everyone stuck their noses
in everyone else's private lives. No matter what Ashley
had to say, he wouldn't be staying long. He'd brought a
change of clothes and his computer — he didn't go anywhere
without his laptop — but he intended to finish his
business with Ashley this afternoon and get home before
his brother's bedtime at nine.

He spotted the sign for Hart Valley and pulled onto the
exit ramp. A quick glance at the directions and he turned
right, toward town. That much closer to Ashley and
clearing up whatever she thought was so important he had
to drive 170 miles to hear.

Even slowing to twenty-five, he was through the small town
of Hart Valley in less than a minute. Which meant he was
less than six minutes away from Ashley's sister's place,
according to the GPS.

It was possible she wouldn't be there. He hadn't been able
to guarantee he'd drive up this Friday
afternoon. "Tentatively," he'd said, then when he'd called
her back to confirm, he'd had to leave a message on her
cell's voice mail.

So what if she wasn't there? He couldn't see himself
sitting around at her home located in the back of beyond
waiting for her. But to turn around and return to San José
without seeing her didn't seem right, either. He'd
committed himself to this visit; he'd follow through.

Stoney Creek Road came up quicker than he expected, and he
had to hit the brakes to keep from missing the
turn.According to the GPS, 2.2 more miles, then he'd
arrive at the NJN Ranch. A knot tightened in his chest.

He slowed as the Mercedes's trip meter counted out
1.8 miles and he watched for the address. This wasn't like
the city, with houses crammed side by side, all of them
identified clearly with numbers painted on the front. The
few addresses he'd seen along Stoney Creek were scrawled
haphazardly on scraps of wood or on fence posts. They
didn't seem to go in any order, either.

Luckily, the ranch had a large wrought-iron sign over the
front entrance, the letters NJN prominent enough he
couldn't miss it. As he turned onto the gravel drive,
creeping along its bumpy surface, he saw a large, covered
arena and a barn on the hill beyond it. He parked beside a
silver hatchback and shut off the engine.

He glanced at his watch, then checked his PDA for new e-
mail. Even in the few hours he'd been gone, it had piled
up, just another reminder that this trip to indulge
whatever nonsense Ashley had to share with him pulled him
away from more important issues. Like whether Kerrigan
Technology's recovery from its financial woes would
continue or if the mistakes his late father had made would
take it under.

Dropping the PDA on the seat, he climbed out of the car
and by reflex hit the alarm button on his key chain.
Taking a look around him at a vista filled with trees and
grazing horses, he unlocked the car again.

There was a small house at the far end of the arena, an
odd octagonal structure. As he started across the parking
area toward it, a woman emerged from the front door, her
face, her movements vaguely familiar. His heart rate
accelerated, a knee-jerk response to those white-hot
moments six months ago. When he got a better look at the
woman, though, he realized it wasn't Ashley after all. Her
hair was darker than Ashley's strawberry-blond and she
wasn't as slender.

"Can I help you?" She gave him a businesslike smile as she
shook his hand. "I'm Sara Delacroix, director of the
Rescued Hearts Riding School."

A flicker of motion through the front window of the house
distracted him. Was that Ashley?

"Sir?" Sara repeated.

"Sorry." He kept his gaze on that window. "I'm Jason
Kerrigan."

Sara moved between him and the house. "What can I do for
you?" There was an edge to her tone now.

Irritation welled up in him. "She's expecting me."

"She's my sister." Sara's hazel eyes narrowed. "She never
mentioned you were coming."

"Is Ashley here?"

Silence stretched as Sara speared him with her gaze. "Just
a minute."

She strode back toward the house and gave the door a
peremptory knock before she opened it. Feminine voices
drifted toward him, then Sara stepped out and motioned to
him. As he walked toward the house, he heard Sara ask, "Do
you want me to stay?" then heard a soft no in response.

Sara gave him a dark look as she passed him, and when he
glanced at her over his shoulder, she still had her eye on
him. He ignored her, starting toward the house.

Sara had left the door slightly ajar, and he started to
push it open. He could almost see his long-dead mother
wagging a scolding finger at him. Biting back impatience,
he knocked and waited.

She had to be just inside, but several seconds dragged by
before the door finally moved. When Ashley stepped clear,
his world narrowed on that first glimpse of her face.

He'd remembered her as attractive, but her brains had
placed her above most of the gorgeous women at school who
couldn't resist the allure of his money. What he hadn't
recalled was the silkiness of that strawberry-blond hair,
how enticing her soft brown eyes were.

Then his gaze drifted down, giving in to the impulse to
take in all of her. If her face had sent his imagination
racing, his first sight of her body stopped it in his
tracks. He understood that what she'd called him up here
to discuss was far more complex than money.

Ashley Rand was obviously, noticeably, most certainly
pregnant. And if he'd learned any math at all back at
Stanford and Berkeley, the baby was his. * * *

How could she have thought she'd ever be ready to face
Jason Kerrigan again? Standing just across her threshold,
he looked even more stiff and formal and coldhearted than
she remembered back at Berkeley. His neat, gray polo shirt
and impeccably creased charcoal slacks screamed boardroom
rather than backwoods ranch. No doubt, dirt wouldn't dare
come to rest on that pristine fabric.

"Hello," she said, at a loss as to how to muster any other
greeting.

He didn't answer, his gaze fixing for a moment on her face
before it dropped again to her six-months-pregnant belly.
Under his scrutiny, a nausea kicked up that rivaled her
eight weeks of morning sickness. She had to resist the
urge to shut the door in his face.

His perfect patrician brow furrowed. "We used a condom."

She tried to smile, but her face felt too stiff. "Best-
laid plans."

His gaze locked with hers. "Why did it take so damn long
to tell me?"

"Everything about that night was a mistake. I wasn't keen
to revisit it."

His jaw worked. "I still had a right to know."

She should have called him the moment the test stick
turned blue. But sometimes she could hardly believe that
night had actually happened, that two near strangers —
barely friends — had burned for each other that way. Then,
after the ultrasound and Dr. Karpoor's startling news,
she'd needed time to wrap her mind around her predicament,
time to get past the panic. It had taken her this long to
get up the courage to call.

Even now she was reluctant to share the miracle inside
her. "How do you know it's yours?"

He didn't even blink. "It's mine."

She dug her heels in at his arrogance. "How can you be
sure? I wasn't a virgin."

He fixed her with his dark eyes. "You might as well have
been."

While she reeled at that bald assessment, he looked past
her into the house. "Can I come in?"

Again the impulse surged inside her to shut the door. If
she ignored him, maybe he'd leave, then she could pack
everything up in her bug and disappear. She certainly had
enough experience disappearing.

But things were different now. She started teaching at
Hart Valley Elementary in another week, had a classroom
full of second-graders to educate. It was what she'd
trained for these past several years at Berkeley. Not to
mention Sara and her new baby. How could she leave her
sister and nephew behind?

He put a foot up on the threshold. "We need to talk about
this, Ashley."

She imagined Jason stepping inside, the small space filled
with his presence. Back at Berkeley — until that night —
she'd never entertained the least lascivious thought about
Jason. But now memories crowded her mind, his skin against
hers, his mouth everywhere. The images overwhelmed her.
She would be an idiot to allow him into the close quarters
of her quirky octagonal house.

She needed a chance to get her head on straight again, to
reestablish Jason as the prickly, straitlaced man she
recalled from school. Anything else she might be feeling
was just hormones and not worth crediting.

Pulling the door shut behind her, she squeezed past him
onto the deck of the front porch. "Let's take a walk."

He followed her down the porch steps and toward the
pasture and paddocks where the horses dozed. As they
passed the tack room, she grabbed the brand-new bucket of
treats Sara had left there. Before she'd gone more than a
step, Jason plucked it out of her hand. "You shouldn't be
carrying anything heavy."

She tried to take it back. "It can't be more than five
pounds."

He pulled it out of her reach and read the label. "Five
point five."