Baby Makes Three

Baby Makes Three
Molly O'Keefe

Baby Makes Three

Molly O’Keefe

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Table of Contents

Cover (#u5511372b-9865-5d19-bb17-1ee7cb8fee8c)

Title Page (#u6a61f3d3-9de3-50ef-b970-cb2a1b5cb886)

About the Author (#u05acc13c-9fd1-5d9b-8f46-4e699c83945e)

Dedication (#uac8e5796-079d-5e1f-9422-8f4cc3530be3)

CHAPTER ONE (#u41eca3d3-0542-5d94-b221-dc53afaad319)

CHAPTER TWO (#u8859faec-b833-5ce6-9d03-4dcd9a4ac090)

CHAPTER THREE (#u26e7fffa-31e4-5e77-94b9-4635740c4331)

CHAPTER FOUR (#ucb371ca6-9643-5624-9481-fe43e09a32b2)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELEVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Molly O’Keefe has written eleven books for the Superromance, Flipside and Duets lines. When she isn’t writing happily ever after she can usually be found in the park acting as referee between her beleaguered border collie and her one-year-old son. She lives in Toronto, Canada, with her husband, son, dog and the largest heap of dirty laundry in North America.

To Aunt Cherie and Uncle Earl

Sometimes, with family, you just get lucky.

And we are very lucky.

CHAPTER ONE

OUT OF THE CORNER of his eye, Gabe Mitchell saw his father, Patrick, spit a mouthful of seaweed-wrapped tofu into his napkin like a five-year-old.

Gabe kicked him under the table, appalled but envious.

“So?” Melissa-something-or-other, the chef responsible for the foul-tasting vegan spa cuisine, asked. “Was I right, or what?”

“Or what,” Patrick muttered, balling his napkin up beside his plate.

“You were right,” Gabe said and pushed his own mouthful of bitter mush into his cheek away from his taste buds. “This is really something.”

“Well?” She smiled broadly like a cat with her eye on the canary. “When do I start?”

Patrick laughed, but quickly coughed to cover it, so Gabe didn’t bother kicking him again.

He managed to swallow the mess in his mouth, took a huge sip of the unsweetened berry smoothie to wash it down and was appalled to discover she’d somehow made berries taste bad, too.

He’d interviewed and auditioned five chefs and this one really was the bottom of a very dark, very deep barrel.

“Well—” he smiled and lied through his teeth “—I have a few more interviews this week, so I will have to get back to you.”

The girl looked disappointed and a little meanspirited, which wasn’t going to help her get the job. “You know,” she said, “it’s not going to be easy to find someone willing to live out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“I understand that,” he said graciously, even though it was getting hard not to throw her out on her scrawny butt.

“And it’s a brand-new inn.” She shrugged. “It’s not like you have the credentials to get a—”

“Well, then.” He stood up and interrupted the little shit’s defeating diatribe before she got to the part about how he was ugly and his father dressed him funny. “Why don’t you gather your equipment and I’ll call you if—”

“And that’s another thing.” Now she was really getting snotty. What was it about vegans, he wondered, that made them so touchy? “Your kitchen is a disaster—”

“You know how building projects can be.” Patrick stood, his silver hair and dashing smile gleaming in the sunlight. “One minute shambles, the next state of the art.”

“You must be in the shambles part,” Melissa said.

“Very true, but I can guarantee within the week state-of-the-art.” His blue eyes twinkled as though he was letting Melissa in on a secret. It was times such as these that Gabe fully realized the compliment people gave him when they said he was a chip off the old block.