As they drew apart and slowly walked back to the house, Holly looked up at him, her eyes aglow with the joy of the truth that filled her heart every day.
Finally she had her very own family.
Finally her life was complete.
THE EXECUTIVE’S
SURPRISE BABY
Catherine Mann
About the Author
CATHERINE MANN
writes contemporary military romances, a natural fit, since she’s married to her very own USAF research source. Catherine graduated with a BA in Fine Arts: Theatre from the College of Charleston, and she received her master’s degree in Theatre from UNC Greensboro. Now a RITA ® Award winner, Catherine finds following her aviator husband around the world with four children, a beagle and a tabby in tow offers her endless inspiration for new plots. Learn more about her work, as well as her adventures in military life, by visiting her Web site: www.catherinemann.com. Or contact her at P.O. Box 41433, Dayton, OH 45441.
To the marvelously talented authors of the first five Garrison stories: Roxanne St. Claire, Sara Orwig, Anna DePalo, Brenda Jackson and Emilie Rose. I thoroughly enjoyed working with you all on this project!
And to my critique partner, Joanne Rock. Many, many thanks for your help that made it possible for me to meet my deadline.
I couldn’t have done it without your fabulous insights— and the sugar jolt from that bag of Jelly Bellies you sent during my final dash to the finish line!
Prologue
July, five months ago
Brooke Garrison ordered her first taste of alcohol at twenty-eight years old.
She reached across the polished teak wood for the glass of wine from the aging bartender at the Garrison Grand Hotel lounge. Her hand shook after the emotional toll of the day, hearing her father’s will read, learning of his secret life. At least she didn’t have to worry about getting carded even if she had been younger since her family owned the place.
“Thank you,” she said, surreptitiously reading the older man’s name tag, “Donald.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Garrison.” He slid an extra napkin her way as smoothly as the pianist slipped into his next song. “And please accept my condolences about your father. He will be missed.”
By more people than she had realized. “We all appreciate the kind words. Thank you again.”
“Of course. Let me know if you need anything else.”
Anything else? She would like to erase this whole horrible day and start over. Or at least stop thinking about it, much less talking. She’d already ignored four voice messages from her brother Parker’s receptionist.
Tentatively, Brooke sipped the wine, wincing. She watched the candle’s flame through the chardonnay’s swirl. Somewhere in that glass were the answers to what stole her mother away from her. To what had driven her father to lead a secret second life in the years before he’d died.
Her alcoholic mother’s bitter words after the reading of John Garrison’s will this morning echoed over and over again through Brooke’s head. “The cheating son of a bitch. I’m glad he’s dead.”
What a hell of a way to learn there weren’t five Garrison offspring—but six. In addition to three brothers and an identical twin sister, Brooke had an illegitimate half sister living in the Bahamas, a sister her father had never told them about while he was alive. Instead, he’d chosen to share the news in his will while handing over a sizable chunk of the Garrison empire to Cassie Sinclair—the newly discovered sibling.
Not that Brooke cared about the money. The betrayal, however, burned.
Conversations and clinking glasses of happier people swelled around her while she sipped. She wanted none of the revelry, even made a point of carefully avoiding eye contact with a couple of men attempting to snag her attention.
Brooke raised the long-stemmed crystal to her mouth again. She knew the wine was as top-notch as the fresh flowers and linens around her. Her taste buds, however, registered nothing. She was too numb with grief.
She’d always blamed her mother for her father’s frequent business trips. The drinking must have driven her wonderful daddy away. Now she couldn’t help but wonder if her father’s behavior had somehow contributed to her mother’s unhappiness.
And how could she untangle it all in the middle of mourning the loss of such a huge figure in her life? The hotel blared reminders of his presence. She could see her father’s imprint on each multi-domed chandelier in the bar, on every towering column.
Brooke circled a finger around the top of her half-full glass, an indulgence she never allowed herself because of her mother’s addiction.
Tonight wasn’t normal.
Her eyes hooked on the looming columns in the spacious hall outside the bar—the evening turning further beyond normal than she ever could have anticipated.