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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter One

No man should be forced to endure a baby shower.

Tate Sumner fingered the irregularly shaped piece of cardboard in his pocket. He’d been ordered to mingle until he found the guest whose puzzle piece linked with his, and then they were supposed to mimic the way the pieces fit together with their bodies. Leave it to his matchmaking sister Sandy to turn her baby shower, traditionally a females-only affair, into a dating service. Ha, ha. Hilarious. Not. At thirty-four, he sometimes felt out of sync-too young for marriage and all it entailed, but too old for singles games.

In the last hour he’d worked his way through the crowd without a match and without enthusiasm, although he had to admit, there’d been a few amusing tussles as the mostly single, twenty-something guests linked up. No doubt the free-flowing alcoholic beverages had loosened their inhibitions.

He didn’t overindulge anymore. The hell-raising and skirt-chasing days he’d once enjoyed had come to an abrupt end after a building collapse landed him in the hospital last year, making him realize how short life was. Before that life-changing event, he’d have let one of the blond twins beside him convince him to go home with her tonight. He subtly checked his watch and then shot another glance at the front door. No offense to Tia or Leah, but he’d rather catch the second half of the Braves game.

The doorbell rang. His sister unearthed herself from a pile of torn pastel wrapping paper and waddled to answer as fast as her due-any-day-now pregnant belly would allow. And then she screamed and launched herself at the poor victim on her welcome mat.

His sister dragged the visitor into view, and Tate nearly dropped the glass of spiked lemonade someone had forced into his hand. Faith King. He hadn’t seen her since his youngest sister Sandy had married Faith’s brother, David, two years ago. Faith’s strawberry blond hair hung in a smooth, glossy curtain curling just below her jawline. He missed the tangles he’d created during their passionate night after the rehearsal dinner.

Desire kicked him in the gut. They’d torched the sheets that night, so he hadn’t understood the deep freeze Faith had treated him to the next day at the wedding and reception. Sure, he’d expected a little morning-after awkwardness since they’d fallen into bed without the usual get-to-know-you dance, but he’d hoped they’d fill in the gaps during the remainder of the weekend. It hadn’t happened.

Faith had avoided him as if he’d exposed her to something contagious.

And then, in a fit of wounded pride, he’d had a pint too much champagne at the reception, danced with every female present and shot off his mouth with a lousy toast. Yeah, he’d been a real prize. A prize idiot.