The Pregnant Bride by Catherine Spencer

Author:Catherine Spencer [Spencer, Catherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Harlequin Mills & Boon Ltd
Published: 2011-11-01T00:00:00+00:00

The next week sped by, so crammed with things to do that Jenna had no choice but to leave the running of the day-care center to Irene and two part-time assistants.

“We need to find a house away from downtown,” Edmund insisted, the day after the dinner debacle with her parents. “Neither your place nor mine has room for a child.”

“But the baby isn’t due for another six months,” Jenna said.

“I’m thinking of Molly. I can hardly make a case for having her live with us if we don’t even have a bedroom for her.”

For three days, they shopped exhaustively, and pored over their shortlist each evening. By the Wednesday, they’d settled on an acre property tucked at the end of a quiet cul de sac in South Surrey, with a view of the ocean and a swimming pool. As an added bonus, there was also a playhouse sure to keep a little girl and her dolls happily entertained when the weather was fine.

On the Thursday, Edmund hired a crew to paint the house, a lovely sprawling rancher with four bedrooms, four bathrooms, a games room, self-contained nanny’s quarters above the triple garage, and enough special features that Jenna worried out loud, “Can we afford all this?”

Edmund looked up from the landscape catalog he’d been studying, a smile lurking in his eyes. “Your mother might have me pegged as nothing more than a guy who ekes out a living recycling other people’s junk, but I thought you’d have figured out by now that I amount to more than that.”

“I haven’t drawn any conclusions,” she told him. “You said you were gainfully employed and I took your word on it.”

“You mean, it wouldn’t bother you if I spent my days grubbing around in overalls and wading hip deep in demolition sites?”

“I almost married the heir apparent to a financial empire and look where it got me, Edmund. He might have worn custom-tailored suits and had money to burn, but when it came down to the crunch, I couldn’t count on him. So, no, it wouldn’t bother me one bit how you dress for work, as long as you’re doing what you want to do, and as long as I know you’ll be there when I need you, just as I will be for you.”

He looked at her thoughtfully for a minute, then dropped the catalog on the table and fished his car keys out of his pocket. “We’ve got an appointment in an hour with a friend of mine who imports carpets, but let’s leave early. There’s something I want to show you, first.”

He took her to a section of Main Street lined with smart antique establishments, and parked outside a shop with a discreet EJD Limited sign engraved on a brass plate above the door.

“Yours?” she said, astonished.

“Mine,” he replied, ushering her inside.

She might well have stepped back in time to another era. Floored in foot-wide boards of ancient fir worn to smoothness by the passing of many feet, steeped in

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