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Bernadette Y. Connor

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Inherited
by Bernadette Y. Connor   

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Books by Bernadette Y. Connor
· Damaged!
· Pearl and Angela
· THE PARCEL EXPRESS MURDERS
· Sasha's New Beginning
                >> View all

Category: 

Romance

Publisher:  BEE-CON BOOKS ISBN-10:  0971583838 Type: 
Pages: 

390

Copyright:  August 13, 2004 ISBN-13:  9780971583849
Fiction

Handsome bachelor inherits newborn identical twins. He does not know who the mother is, or if in fact they are his.

Amazon
BEE-CON BOOKS

Derrick Dawes is an Adonis who lives comfortably and enjoys his bachelorhood.  He dates beautiful, professional women who are as dedicated to their careers as he is to his.  After a night of cavorting with the sultry Cassandra, Derrick ignores the ringing telephone until all of his early morning rituals are completed.  When Derrick does decide to listen to the many messages on his answering machine, his world flips onto its side.

The hospital administrator has left several messages informing Derrick that his wife has left the hospital without their newborn identical twins.  Of course, Derrick is sure there is some mistake . . . he has no wife and babies.  He smiles as he returns the call until he is told the only valid information on the infants' birth certificates is his, and if he does not come down to the hospital to get them he will be charged with abandonment.  DNA will free him, if the babies are not his in three months without the mother's contribution.  If he signs anything, he is acknowledging paternity.

With no idea who the mother of the twins is, Derrick as Daddy is a comedy of errors until he meets and falls in love with their nurse and angers an old girlfriend who makes his life a living hell.  His family pitches in and helps him with the infants, but they make it clear that the babies are his responsibility and he lives up to it.  Through it all, Derrick searches for the mother of the twins.  The real mother shows up in time to rescue Derrick and the babies from the court system.


Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE





In the muted lighting of the bedroom, Derrick leaned back on the cool, thick, brass rails of his headboard and watched Cassandra dress. Derrick was thoroughly mesmerized by the sight of her taut, voluptuous body's fluid motion. Her smooth, deep copper skin teased the lights by casting shadows in the most provocative places. Cassandra had somehow evolved the simple act of dressing into a carefully choreographed dance of sensuality; the way she flicked her hair, or gave a seductive glance over her shoulder as she lovingly stroked her stocking covered leg. Soft jazz from the stereo served as her accompaniment.

Inwardly, Derrick wrestled with his rule of never dating a woman more than three times. He truly enjoyed Cassandra's company. If only she had not uttered one of the many bachelor threatening latch phrases, “I love you,” Derrick might have dared to extend her stay in his life. The mere thought of belonging to any one woman made Derrick uncomfortable. After all, there were so many beautiful women to choose from. How could a man simply select one and never be attracted to any of the others ever again? How? In Derrick's estimation, it could not be done without acupuncture, hypnosis, or a witch doctor's long-winded, incomprehensible chanting and a good dusting.

The telephone rang as Cassandra sat in Derrick's wing chair pretending to comb her hair. Derrick knew she wouldn't comb it with abandon because three quarters of those heavily highlighted, shoulder length locks were masterfully weaved. Derrick never answered the ringing telephone. As a matter of fact, he acted as if he never heard it.

Turning to the café-au-lait Adonis of her dreams, Cassandra smiled sweetly and asked, "Are you going to answer that?"

The coolest of casual smiles caressed Derrick's full, intricately sculptured lips when he responded, "If I answer, I'll be distracted."

"Distracted from what?"

"You."

Cassandra gave a nonchalant wave and said, "Please, Derrick. You just don't want me to know, for a fact, that you're seeing other women. In case you think I haven't noticed you never answer any of my questions, I have."

Feigning his trademark ignorance, Derrick asked innocently, "What questions?"

Standing and smoothing the tantalizingly form fitting dress over her luscious body, Cassandra asked sarcastically, "Why don't I see you more often? Why haven't you returned my calls this week? Where have you been?"

Derrick bit his bottom lip briefly, folded his hands in his naked lap and replied, "I didn't answer those questions because I knew I didn't have an answer that would satisfy you."

"What kind of crap are you trying to peddle now, Derrick?"

"If I say to you I have work to do, I was visiting my mother, or I like to spend time alone; what would your response be?"

With crisp confidence, Cassandra responded, "Bullshit."

"Exactly as I thought, sweetheart. I have options. Waste a lot of time defending my bullshit arguing with you, or allowing you to form your own opinions and enjoying the time I spend with you. I prefer the latter."

Cassandra slowly strolled over to the bed. Like a predatory lioness, she draped herself over the length of Derrick's nude body and licked his lips. He didn't move. She purred, "While your reasoning escapes me, I must admit I prefer the latter, too." The long, hot kiss that followed threatened to rekindle the earlier fire of the night.

Of course, Derrick had no complaints. After all, he was at home and had absolutely no place to go. It was Saturday. Cassandra could stay as long as she wanted and Derrick was willing to play any game she thought of.

Eventually, Cassandra pulled her mouth away from Derrick's and gave his lip a promising nibble. With a great sigh, she said, "I wish I could stay, sweetheart, but I've got to serve the good citizens of our fair city early in the morning. I'm the relief dispatcher this weekend. Would you like to take me to brunch afterwards? We could spend the rest of the day together."

Derrick meant it when he said, "I would love to." He also meant it when he added, "But I can't."

Sullenly, Cassandra asked, "Why not, Derrick Dawes?"

"Sunday is always a busy day for me, Cassandra. I have to get ready for the work week and visit my parents."

"I could hang out while you get ready for the work week and go with you to visit your parents."

"I don't think so, Cassandra. Not tomorrow. Maybe some other day."

Frustrated tears burned Cassandra's eyes when she asked with agitation, "Why not?"

This was the part of relationships Derrick despised. The never-ending string of "whys." If he could find a woman who never asked why, he would marry her in a flash.

Still Derrick didn't want to hurt Cassandra's feelings, and God knows he didn't want her to start crying. Weeping women put knots in his stomach. So he took the conversation to a place where he thought he might be able to get out of it rationally.
"Do you really think our relationship is strong enough to drag families into it already, Cassandra?"

Blinking once, Cassandra answered emphatically, "Yes. I would take you to meet my family right this minute."

Never caught off guard on this subject, Derrick asked in succession, "What would you tell them about me, Cassandra? What's my occupation? Where do I work? How do you know? What are my likes? Dislikes? What's my favorite food? Color?"

Stuttering, she replied, "You didn't ask me any of those questions last night, or two weeks ago. Why are you asking them now?"

Smiling comfortably, Derrick said, "Because you're trying to make this into something more than it is. We're still in the enjoying each other's company stage of the game. I don't know the answers to many of those questions about you either."

Seething, Cassandra asked, "Are you saying this is purely a sex thing for you?"

"No. But I am saying we haven't progressed beyond that point yet. We've been to dinner three times. Slept together three times. How many conversations have we shared? Honestly? What pertinent questions have you asked me? What’s transpired between us that points toward family meetings? Before taking a woman home to my mother, I'd like to know a little more than what she prefers sexually, Cassandra. And honestly, that's the gist of what I know about you."

Without another comment, Cassandra snapped her purse closed and strolled out of the room. Derrick got up, slid into his teal and navy terry cloth robe, picked up his keys and followed her. She had already descended the stairs and was standing at the door. Derrick knew the dead bolt was the only thing keeping her there.

As he approached, Derrick said softly, "I really don't want you to go away upset, Cassandra. You have your way of looking at things and I have mine. Maybe we should discuss them."

Unemotionally, Cassandra responded, "If you want to discuss life, Derrick, surf the net. If you want to live life, give me a call. Good night."
She stepped away from the door, clearing the way for him to unlock it.

Tilting his head in resignation, Derrick found the door key and put it in the lock. He hesitated momentarily. Holding onto Cassandra crossed his mind again. His attraction to her was slightly more than physical and he knew it.

Cassandra's conversations lacked disciplined structure, but there was something endearing about her empty and breathless chatter. The very traits that made Cassandra delightful company had condemned the relationship. She had slept with Derrick without knowing anything about him. There was no intelligent, in depth suspicious female inquisition. Derrick knew that Cassandra would have just as readily accepted him telling her he was the American Ambassador to Saigon as she would have been to hear he was an electrical engineer. What he did for a living did not matter to her.
Cassandra had chosen Derrick for the same reason he had chosen hershe simply liked what she saw.

Standing there looking down at this magnificently packaged vessel of unlimited, uninhibited pleasure made the greater part of Derrick shout, "Open the damn door! Now!" And, as always, Derrick listened to the greater part of himself. He opened the door and silently watched Cassandra walk out of his life, the way so many others had.




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