Free Return of the Secret Heir by Rachel Bailey Page A

buzzed him into the foyer and before he could knock, she opened the door.
    â€œGood morning, JT.”
    â€œMorning.” He edged past her and deposited the bags on her kitchen counter. “These are for you.”
    She reached for one and peeped in. It was full of pill bottles and packets—large ones, small ones, brightly colored, some in pastels, many with pictures of a pregnant woman on the front. She looked up at him with an arched eyebrow.
    He shrugged muscled shoulders. “The woman at the drug store said you should have these.”
    â€œ All of these? There must be thirty different vitamins and supplements in there.” She felt queasy thinking about swallowing that many pills.
    A frown line appeared on his forehead above the aviators he hadn’t removed. “I’m not sure. I just took anything she said was important for pregnant women.”
    A smile crept across her face, imagining JT at the store, totally out of his depth but still trying to do the right thing by his baby. “Thank you. That was sweet.”
    â€œIt’s part of my responsibility. I told you I’d take it seriously.” He headed for the door. “I have to go back to the car for the rest.”
    â€œ More pills?”
    â€œNo,” he called over his shoulder, “breakfast.”
    â€œRight,” she said to the empty room and sat down on a stool to look through the bags of supplements. She had work in her briefcase that she’d brought home for the weekend, but the events unfolding in her apartment were too bizarre not to have her full attention.
    Within five minutes he’d covered her kitchen counter with eight bags of groceries and heaven knew what else. She might have been indignant…if she could stop thinking how good those broad shoulders that tapered to narrow hips looked in her small kitchen. She swallowed and refocused on the grocery store that now resided on her counter.
    â€œHow many people are coming for breakfast, JT?”
    He threw his keys and sunglasses on her dining table and went back to his bags. “I read some websites overnight. They say you need a healthy breakfast.”
    He unloaded a brand-new juicer onto the bench.
    â€œI have a juicer in the cupboard,” she pointed out, unable to keep the wry amusement from her voice.
    He glanced up. “I wasn’t sure. You need as much sleep as you can get, so I couldn’t ring late last night to check.”
    She’d probably been awake—she’d spent much of the night staring at the ceiling and worrying about the baby, and listening to her body to see if she felt different now that she knew she was pregnant. Although…
    Vitamins and supplements. Groceries. A new juicer. Internet research. “Did you sleep last night?”
    â€œA couple of hours,” he said, placing an assortment of fruits and vegetables in her sink before washing them all thoroughly. Winston came over from his place on the window seat to join her watching the commotion. “Sorry, Winnie, but I don’t think he’s catering to cats this time.”
    JT lifted his head, his dark-lashed eyes trained on her. “That reminds me. Ever heard of toxoplasmosis?”
    â€œShould I have?”
    â€œIt’s a parasite carried by cats.” He stacked the washed fruit and vegetables on the bench, and reached for the juicer. “And it can be harmful to pregnant women.”
    â€œYou’re not suggesting I get rid of Winston?” she said, looking over at the innocent bundle of fur who’d been with her for eight years. She couldn’t imagine being without his soft, purring presence in her life.
    JT squirted detergent into the sink and turned on the hot tap. “No, but to be on the safe side, I’ll clean his litter box from now on.”
    She let out a sigh of relief that the solution was so simple. “He doesn’t have a litter box. He has a cat door to the courtyard at the