Falling for the Pregnant Heiress Read online

  A pregnant heiress, a bachelor billionaire...

  ...an unlikely family?

  In this Manhattan Babies story, Trent Sigmund’s discovered Sabrina McCallan’s shocking secret: she’s pregnant! As she is his best friend’s sister, Trent’s compelled to help her. But offering Sabrina his private jet to track down her errant ex wasn’t supposed to become a whirlwind trip of Europe... And it certainly wasn’t supposed to awaken an attraction that makes him long to take this unexpected chance and build it into the perfect family!

  Manhattan Babies

  Three wealthy New York siblings go from boardroom to baby!

  The McCallans are one of the richest families in New York.

  Elder brother Jacob, rebel Seth and free-spirited Sabrina know all about family ties and the responsibilities that come with running a business.

  But now they’re all about to have their lives turned upside down by three tiny surprises!

  Read Jake’s story in Carrying the Billionaire’s Baby

  Discover Seth’s story in A Diamond for the Single Mom

  And find out Sabrina’s story in Falling for the Pregnant Heiress

  All available now!

  Dear Reader,

  When I came up with the concept for the Manhattan Babies series, I was instantly in love with the idea of stories that took place in gorgeous New York City. But as I wrote Jake’s and Seth’s stories, their baby sister, Sabrina, intrigued me.

  Wealthy, doted on by her parents, Sabrina had it all, including a father who wanted her to be perfect. When the story begins, she is doing a very good job of living up to his expectations...even though he’s been dead two years. It was long past time to move on, but she couldn’t seem to.

  I hadn’t intended to pair her with Trent. But when her story started at her brother Seth’s wedding, she and Trent gravitated together. And why not? They both had an unexpected story. Neither was what he or she seemed to be. There’s nothing better than discovering your characters have secrets and, in some respects, live a lie.

  At the same time, they were funny. They’d both lived through enough that they’d already learned there isn’t much laughter can’t cure.

  So, settle in with a cup of cocoa for this one. You’re really going to love Sabrina and Trent.

  Susan Meier

  Falling for the Pregnant Heiress

  Susan Meier

  Susan Meier is the author of over fifty books for Harlequin. The Tycoon’s Secret Daughter was a Romance Writers of America RITA® Award finalist, and Nanny for the Millionaire’s Twins won the Book Buyers Best Award and was a finalist in the National Readers’ Choice Awards. Susan is married and has three children. One of eleven children herself, she loves to write about the complexity of families and totally believes in the power of love.

  Books by Susan Meier

  Harlequin Romance

  Manhattan Babies

  Carrying the Billionaire’s Baby

  A Diamond for the Single Mom

  The Princes of Xaviera

  Pregnant with a Royal Baby!

  Wedded for His Royal Duty

  The Vineyards of Calanetti

  A Bride for the Italian Boss

  Daring to Trust the Boss

  The Twelve Dates of Christmas

  Her Brooding Italian Boss

  A Mistletoe Kiss with the Boss

  The Boss’s Fake Fiancée

  The Spanish Millionaire’s Runaway Bride

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

  Join Harlequin My Rewards today and earn a FREE ebook!

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  To my bowling buddies on the Tuesday afternoon league. We may not always bowl well, but we laugh a lot!

  Praise for

  Susan Meier

  “Meier sucked me into this remarkable love story from the first page and I could not put it down...a captivating love story.”

  —Goodreads on A Mistletoe Kiss with the Boss

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  EXCERPT FROM ONE NIGHT IN PROVENCE BY BARBARA WALLACE

  CHAPTER ONE

  ANYONE WHO LOOKED at Sabrina McCallan usually did a double take. With her blond hair, blue eyes and nicely kept curves, she was physically perfect. Add impeccable manners, poise, charm, grace and intelligence, and Trent “Ziggy” Sigmund thought the woman was class in Chanel.

  Until today.

  As a bridesmaid in her brother Seth’s August wedding, standing by a church pew, waiting for her turn in the after-ceremony pictures, she seemed frazzled. Nervous. Plus, a strand of yellow hair had sprung from her up-do and she hadn’t tucked it back in.

  Which was why Trent couldn’t stop staring at her.

  Sabrina’s partner in Seth and Harper’s wedding, Trent was supposed to be aware of where Sabrina was when their names were called for the pictures, and her fidgeting confused him. He wasn’t staring because he was attracted to her. She wasn’t his type. She was perfect, flawless, and he liked things a little messy. Not a disaster. But wild hair on a pillow, sleepy eyes, torn jeans and scruffy tennis shoes were more his speed.

  Still, something was up with Sabrina and he had responsibilities as her partner in the wedding, more as her brother’s best friend. He and Seth had lived together in a run-down apartment, both earning their living as waiters, as they finished school. They’d shared spare change and food, knew the bus and subway schedules like the backs of their hands and played wingman when one or the other spotted a girl they liked. Though Seth had dropped out of his family for a time, the second McCallan son still knew “people” and that had helped Trent get his first job, which had resulted in his learning the right things at the right time to develop his genius, strike out on his own and become rich.

  In some ways they were like brothers. In other ways they were closer than brothers. Trent would be a fool if he didn’t realize he owed Seth. And Trent wasn’t a fool.

  Which was why Seth’s little sister’s fidgeting was like a red alert alarm. The groom, Seth, was too busy to notice. Even Jake, Seth and Sabrina’s older brother, was busy with his toddler and pregnant wife. Only Trent had time to see the McCallan daughter was off her game today.

  When his name and Sabrina’s were called for their picture, Trent sauntered across the church aisle to stunning Sabrina. Her pale purple dress highlighted her blue eyes. Her yellow hair would have been perfection, except for that one wayward strand, which to Trent’s way of thinking, actually made her more beautiful.

  He offered his arm. The way he and Sabrina had grown up might have been worlds apart, but twelve years of knowing a McCallan had taught him how a gentleman behaved.

  “Ready for pics?”

  Sabrina smiled politely as she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Yes.”

  He nearly told her she looked elegant and feminine in the simple lilac dress Harper had chosen for her bridesmaids, but he figured she’d probably heard that thirty or forty times
already today.

  They walked to the space the photographer pointed out, stood by Seth and Harper and smiled as the middle-aged man snapped a picture. He took at least a hundred more shots with Seth and Harper and the members of their bridal party, Harper’s parents, Seth’s mom Maureen, Seth’s brother Jake and his wife, Avery, and then a few final shots of everyone—a big mob of men in tuxes, women in gowns and little girls in dresses with so much tulle and ruffles, Trent wondered how they could stay upright.

  Seth’s mom and Harper’s parents said their goodbyes. Harper’s parents were taking Harper’s daughter, Crystal, home for a nap before the reception. Seth’s mom was going home for a nap herself. Jake and Avery’s nanny hustled Abby to their Upper East Side condo for some quiet time. The rest of the wedding party took limos to Seth and Harper’s penthouse for a few pre-reception drinks.

  Thanking everyone for joining him in the celebration of the happiest day of his life, Seth popped the cork on the first bottle of champagne, then servants scurried over to open more champagne, fill glasses and distribute them for a toast.

  Leaning against the bar, Trent kept his attention on Sabrina. She took a glass of champagne, happily raised it when best man Jake made a toast, then pretended to sip.

  Trent’s eyes narrowed. She had absolutely pretended to sip. Three toasts later, she still had a full glass of champagne.

  The bride and groom mingled through the small crowd. Waiters brought out trays of hors d’oeuvres. Seth told stories of his misspent youth, and with Harper by his side, he spoke fondly of her deceased husband, Clark, the third roommate in the trio of Clark, Seth and Ziggy, who now preferred to be called Trent. Trent joined him in one final story. Then the conversation drifted to more current topics, and before Trent knew it, it was time to go to the Waldorf Astoria for the reception.

  He had to hunt for Sabrina. When he found her, she looked to have gotten lost in the shuffle. A woman who ran a nonprofit that helped startups turn into corporations did not get lost in any shuffles.

  He added her obvious confusion to her not drinking and came up with a conclusion so startling it almost made him whistle—the way his stepfather always had when he realized something outlandish, something farfetched, something so out of the realm of reality that only a physical gesture or a reverently whispered “Wow” would do.

  * * *

  Sabrina held up as well as she could through the small party at Seth and Harper’s. When Ziggy found her—again—to ride with her to the reception, she wanted to throttle him. She needed some alone time to figure things out and her brother’s best friend, her groomsman partner, always seemed to be two feet away.

  She’d think he’d suddenly gotten a thing for her, but she knew better. If the wild-haired waifs he dated were anything to go by, she wasn’t his type. But he wasn’t her type, either. He was good-looking enough. His black hair curled into sexy ringlets on his collar. His heavy-lidded dark eyes never missed a thing. But he was scruffy. He liked things like dimly lit jazz bars and kicking back with a beer by the lake. Any lake. She was pretty sure he owned houses on three of them.

  Then there was his name. She’d never get used to calling him Trent. First, because her brother had called him Ziggy for at least a decade. Second, because to her the name Ziggy fit the laid-back billionaire much more than Trent.

  And nobody really wanted to be dating a guy named Ziggy, let alone a high-profile professional woman. She ran a respectable nonprofit. Her public persona determined whether she got contributions and grants to assist the hundreds of people who came to her with ideas every year.

  Trent helped her into one of the black limos that had pulled up to the curb in front of Seth and Harper’s building.

  She smiled politely. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  The driver closed the door behind them, walked to the front of the long car and took his seat behind the steering wheel.

  Trent pushed the button that raised the glass between passengers and the driver. “Are you okay?”

  “What? Yes! I’m fine.”

  “Nothing you want to tell me?”

  She gave him the side eye. “Of course not.”

  “I’m just saying you look like a woman who might need a shoulder to cry on or maybe somebody to offer advice.”

  She fought the urge to close her eyes and kept her poise strictly intact. He couldn’t know that she was pregnant. She’d only found out that morning. One stupid week of loneliness had her flying off to Paris to Pierre—with whom she’d made the mutual decision to break up the month before—and spending a reckless weekend that resulted in a child.

  She’d sensed a bit of regret on Pierre’s part when she’d left to return to New York, but not enough for him to call her. Which was for the best. As a woman who didn’t believe in love, she’d accepted Pierre’s romantic advances four years ago because she knew there was no danger that anything would come of their affair. A gorgeous, passionate artist, Pierre was a lot of fun and they spoke the language of art. They both lived and breathed art. But Pierre was the product of a marriage more dysfunctional than Sabrina’s parents’ marriage had been, and he’d decided to make up for his parents’ neglect by giving himself everything he wanted. He’d also taken a solemn vow never to marry or have kids. Which was okay because they weren’t long-term anything. They had a safe, long-distance relationship, with no possibility of things getting messy with talk of love.

  And now that she was pregnant?

  Well...

  They’d broken up. He didn’t want to be a father. She’d never wanted him in her life permanently. Nothing had changed.

  At least she didn’t think so. But that was the problem. There hadn’t yet been time to think this through. She hadn’t had two quiet minutes since she’d seen the stick turn blue, and her nerves were beginning to fray. Part of her wanted to enjoy her brother’s big day and celebrate. The other part wanted to go home and cry. Except—

  She didn’t know if she wanted to cry out of fear or happiness. She’d always wanted to be a mom. She’d envisioned herself having as close of a relationship with her child as she’d had with her mom, guiding her little boy or girl into a wonderful, fulfilling life, choosing good schools, taking her baby to the park, maybe even getting a dog—

  She’d just always thought it would be sometime in the future.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Okay. Keep your secrets.”

  An arrow plunged into her heart, scaring her to death at the way he’d made secret plural. Secrets. Being pregnant wasn’t her only secret. She also painted. Temperamental, brilliant Pierre was one of a handful of people who knew Sabrina McCallan was the reclusive artist Sally McMillan. She’d taken a pseudonym because as Sabrina McCallan she was New York high society. Her one and only showing had been mobbed by people buying her paintings to win favor with her now-deceased tycoon father.

  She’d been on the verge of quitting painting altogether when her mother had suggested a pseudonym. And it worked. She didn’t go to her showings, didn’t schmooze or pander to the public. Her art stood on its own.

  Still, Ziggy couldn’t know that. Seth, Jake, Avery and Harper all knew the stakes. Seth would not have spilled her secret. None of them would.

  Ziggy was bluffing.

  “Maybe I should ask you if you need some counseling.”

  He laughed.

  She lifted one eyebrow. “Afraid your business won’t stand up to the scrutiny of a professional?”

  “Honey, my business wouldn’t stand up to anybody’s scrutiny. I have a couple simple formulas. I read five newspapers a day and a few dozen blogs. Once I get all the information I need in my head, I grab a fishing pole and go to the lake, or I slip off to Spain and let it all sink in. After a few days I might make a move, or I might not.”

  “That’s really not a business.”

  “D
idn’t I just say that?”

  The train of limos arrived at the Waldorf. Doormen scurried out to release the passengers and escort the bridal party into the hotel. When Sabrina and Ziggy arrived at the four-story, two-tiered ballroom, the place was lit with dim purple lights that made the space shimmer romantically. Long, rectangular tables outlined the room, while round, more intimate tables filled the area beside the open dance floor.

  Sabrina murmured, “This is lovely.”

  Ziggy looked around. “Your family does know how to throw a party.”

  His casual way of looking at things hit her all the wrong ways. “We aren’t throwing a party. We’re celebrating a marriage.”

  “Potayto, potahto.”

  “It’s not the same thing! A party can be four guys and a beer bong. We’re celebrating my brother and his wife finding love.”

  He faced her with a goofy smile, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief. “You’re a romantic.”

  She almost laughed. Her? A romantic? She was exactly the opposite. She was a woman who believed romance and the mythical concept of “love” only caused problems—especially for women. She would never let herself be so vulnerable as to fall in love.

  “I’m not a romantic. You know as well as anyone that our family had a rough time.” A dad who couldn’t be faithful and a mom with three kids who lived in fear of his temper. “I never thought either of my brothers would get married.”

  Ziggy nodded. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

  She straightened to her full five feet six inches—five-nine with heels—and still she only came up to about his nose. Odd that she’d notice that with so much on her mind. “You’re damned right, I’m right. Now, if you’ll excuse me, don’t follow me to the ladies’ room.”

  He laughed.

  She strode away, feeling more like herself than she had all day. There was nothing like righting a wrong to get her blood flowing. Having her spunk back helped her to weed through some of the confusion in her brain.

 
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