Long-Lost Mom. Jill Shalvis

put it off for too long now, simply because he hated to admit that he didn’t know what to do. Turning to his family was out of the question.

      Ten years ago, when Jenna had gotten pregnant, his family had surprised and shocked him by refusing to believe Sara was his child.

      Though Stone tried to tell them the truth, they turned a deaf ear. Jenna’s trouble, they’d said.

      Look at the scandal, they’d said.

      You’re a fool, they’d said.

      Stubbornly he’d stood by Jenna, knowing the truth.

      Sara was his child.

      Though Jenna had put on a tough front, she’d let Stone see past her wild ways. She’d shown the real Jenna to him, and Stone had loved that frightened, uncertain, self-conscious Jenna with all his heart.

      She’d been a virgin the night she and Stone had first made love, and though they’d used protection, somehow she’d gotten pregnant—with his child.

      Stone’s family refused to listen to reason. They were wealthy, disdainful of scandal of any kind, and though he’d once thought of them as loving giving people, the truth was, they were snobs. It’d been a huge shock and major disappointment to Stone, but they’d stood firm. If he kept the baby, he’d be disowned. Stone had loved Jenna, loved their unborn baby, but even if he hadn’t, he wanted to be responsible for his actions. He’d kept his baby, for he could do nothing else.

      And he ended up with no family, no Jenna, no money. Just Sara. Somehow they’d made it, and God, he didn’t want to remember those first months, how nightmarish they’d been, but he’d done it. They’d done it.

      He and Sara were a family now, and it rankled like hell that he, after all this time, needed his parents.

      They didn’t need him in return. They had Richard, and Stone knew his brother had never married. He’d never had any kids.

      Which meant Sara was the only grandchild his parents had.

      How could they ignore that?

      How could they ignore her?

      Stone continued to listen with half an ear as his client rambled on about the product he was buying, watching with detached interest out his window as two doors down from him, a moving truck pulled up.

      A new neighbor.

      The back of the truck opened, and two beefy men started to unload. An oak desk and chair. An elaborate computer system. An expensive-looking couch and matching chairs. A huge bulletin board, filing cabinet.

      And Cindy Beatty.