Elley Arden - Baby by Design

Closing her eyes, Trish let the warmth from his hand sink in. “I love you, too.”

Maybe she drifted off, because the next thing she knew, Tony’s voice startled her.

“Why don’t you settle in and get some rest? I’ll take it from here.”

When Trish opened her eyes he was scooping the baby into his arms and lifting her off the bed.

“But there’s a mess downstairs.” She struggled to keep her eyes open.

“Not anymore.” He grinned.

“You cleaned it all?”

“With help. Even the kids, under the direction of Vin, which was like watching a drill sergeant.”

Trish chuckled, and leaning forward, snatched a pillow from the end of the bed. “Okay, but just a couple hours. She’s going to need to eat.”

Tony walked to her side, cradling the baby in one hand, dragging the down comforter over Trish’s body with the other. “Sleep tight, beautiful,” he said, and then he leaned over, placing a kiss on her forehead.

“And as for you,” he said to Angelina as he straightened. “We’ve got important things to do…like finish off the birthday cake.”

Trish shook her head against the pillow. “She’s too young for that.”

“But Daddy’s not.” He winked.

Standing there, holding his baby girl, Tony was more striking than he’d ever been. It was hard for Trish to believe she once planned a life without him. Not long ago, all she wanted was a baby who shared her same blood and mysterious genetic code, someone who would fill the loneliness.

Thanks to Tony, Trish got that—and more—because she got him too.

She blew him a kiss as he left the room, and then relaxed her head deeper into the pillow. She’d always imagined a baby would be the key to love like she’d never known, but she was wrong. Angelina was the result of that love.

Tony was the key.

Elley Arden is a born and bred Pennsylvanian who has lived as far west as Utah and as far north as Wisconsin. She drinks wine like it’s water (a slight exaggeration), prefers a night at the ballpark to a night on the town, and believes almond English toffee is the key to happiness. Elley writes provocative, contemporary, series romance for Crimson Romance. For a complete list of Elley’s books visit http://www.elleyarden.com.

Alice shoved her feet into rhinestone-studded pumps, checked her teeth for smudges of red lipstick and dashed out the door onto the porch. She had exactly twenty minutes to get to church. Digging into her late mother’s beaded clutch, Alice cursed her missing keys and walked as she rummaged, wishing a chat with the mail lady hadn’t put her behind schedule.

Ruff. Mouse ran a zigzag pattern across the front yard, brushing filthy fur against her toile skirt.

“Stop it. You’re dirty.” Alice waved the dog away, but he brushed by again, causing her to stumble and step in a pile of …

“Crap!” She threw her handbag to the ground and stared at the clump of brown on the tip of her shoe. “Are you serious?” She tossed her head back and roared at the cloudless sky. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Stomping her way back to the porch, she kicked off the shoe and scraped the toe in the too-tall grass. Dog doo smashed between the rhinestones. Alice growled, dropped the shoe to the ground and limped into the house, heading straight for her only other pair of remotely matching heels … character shoes. Wearing beige stage shoes wasn’t the fashion statement she hoped to be making today, but she didn’t have a choice. She was already late, and the only place to buy shoes in Harmony Falls was the thrift store, which was closed for the congressman’s wedding.

These were the moments when Alice missed her mother most. She kissed fingertips and pressed them to Mama’s face, smiling at Alice from behind dusty glass. “Tough day, Mama. Wish you were here.”

With a frown, Alice hastily fastened the shoes, leaving too much slack. At least the whole day hadn’t been a bust. Shirley had delivered mail early on account of the wedding, and in her hand was a letter from the Arts Foundation. Alice’s application was a finalist, which put her one step closer to opening an honest-to-God theatre in Harmony Falls. No more The Sound of Music in the park pavilion. No more Peter Pan in the church social hall. No more Poor Little Alice Cramer, the girl with impossible dreams.

She sighed and then smiled, determined not to let the bad parts of the day drown out the good.

Ten minutes remained, and Alice still had no idea where to find her keys. For all she knew, Mouse stole them again so he could chew on her lucky rabbit’s foot. When she rolled her eyes, she noticed her brother’s keys hanging on the hook by the door where he’d left them when he rode off with a group of deadbeat friends. Her nose crinkled. Charlie’s car smelled like cigarettes and was littered with trash, but it would get her to the church faster than walking.

Snagging the metal off the hook, Alice tiptoed through the grass (careful not to step in anything questionable) and scooped her purse from the front yard before plopping into the driver’s seat of Charlie’s car.

“Ouch!” She dug a hand underneath yards of scratchy skirt and pulled out a tiara. The glistening crown was pretty. A bit odd, too. And it definitely wasn’t hers. She tossed the headpiece into the backseat and shook her head. How Charlie managed to get any woman into this car willingly was beyond Alice. She kicked aside empty paper cups, shut the ashtray, rolled down the windows and pressed pedal to the floor all the way to church.

Making it with a few minutes to spare, Alice paused at the back of the sanctuary, smiling down the lily-lined aisle at the smoking hot man standing before the altar. His tuxedo was tailored, his shoulders were back and his hair was impeccably groomed. He’d worn the same lift to his blond bangs since high school. Back then, the fashionable hair blended with city-bought clothes to make him look even more privileged than he was. Now, almost fifteen years and two professional titles later, the flip of his bangs made her smile, because she recognized it for what it was — who he was — a predictable, responsible, creature of habit.

Alice sighed, smoothed a hand over the snug bodice of her dress and tried to remember a time when she didn’t love Justin Mitchell.

He saw her then, and she dug deep into her theatrical bag of tricks to smile with a sincerity that would charm sight-challenged ladies in a theatre’s back row. He bought it, smiled back, and Alice imagined the fine lines crinkling around his green eyes. The breath she tried to take stuck in her too-small throat, and she remembered she needed to walk, needed to move, needed to take her place. This wasn’t the time for longing or regrets. This was a wedding.

The man she loved was getting married.

But he wasn’t marrying her.

Alice released the misery with a shake of her head and then scanned the noisy crowd for friendly faces. Ken and Carole Flemming sat three pews from the altar, three pews too close to the fire, with an empty space between them where Kory should be. Today of all days, Alice missed her best friend, but resident doctors didn’t get time off for non-family weddings — even if those weddings featured small-town royalty.

Sucking a mouthful of air, Alice took a step down the aisle. Although she preferred Mrs. Flemming’s quiet smile to the rambunctious fawning of just about everyone else in town, for once in her life the attention that went along with a walk down the center aisle wasn’t appealing. Alice chose relative anonymity in the back of the church instead.

She slid into the pew and studied the groomsmen, imagining her brother in the mix. Aside from Will and Mark Mitchell, Charlie knew Justin longest; he deserved to be up there, too. She closed her eyes and pictured Charlie cleaned up, with his bow tie tilted and his boutonniere hanging off his lapel. But when she opened her eyes, he wasn’t there. Congressman Mitchell couldn’t take the risk. Bonds of childhood friendship were no match for the potential embarrassment of having a drunk at the front of the church.

Alice’s stomach clenched as she wondered if Charlie was sober today — wherever he was. If not, she prayed he stayed safe and out of too much trouble. She’d been praying for that a lot lately. And she’d keeping praying and hoping it wasn’t too late, that Charlie wouldn’t end up like their father.

The thoughts tugged acid into Alice’s throat, and she held a hand to her mouth. Dropping her shoulders on a heavy exhale, her head followed. Too much emotion for one day. A loose piece of silver thread hung from the bottom of her skirt, and she felt tears that had nothing to do with the thread.

If it weren’t for the false eyelashes and extra coats of mascara, she’d have allowed herself a good cry. Justin was getting married, and although she knew this day would come, the finality hit hard.

She sniffed, dabbed beneath her eyes with her knuckles and lifted her head, smile firmly in place. The church teemed with people who had every reason to celebrate. Congressman Justin Mitchell, chief financial officer of Mitchell Company, Inc., was making good on his late father’s promise to bring life to this dying town. His congressional term set the stage for tax breaks and corporate-friendly zoning, and his arranged marriage would align the two most powerful families in the state. It didn’t hurt that as a wedding present, the bride’s uncle promised his new plastics plant to Harmony Falls.