The mistake that changed their lives… Yesterday John Carter and Lily Grayson were strangers. Now, following an IVF mix-up, their genes are bound together for ever—only someone else is carrying their child! John's only thought is to get his baby back… until he realises that Lily is the person he truly needs to complete his life…The Most Precious Bundle of AllTears, triumphs and a tiny miracle
The Most Precious Bundle of All
Tears, triumphs and a tiny miracle
An IVF mix-up turns two couple’s dreams
of parenthood into a nightmare.
But through the tests, tears and triumphs
they find unexpected love…and realise that
happy endings come in all shapes and sizes!
Fighting to keep the baby she’s always
wanted, Olivia turns to dashing doctor
David for love and support in
HER MOTHERHOOD WISH by Anne Fraser
Meet John and Lily. Discovering they’ve
made a baby turns these strangers’ worlds
upside down—but not nearly as much as
when they start falling in love!
A BOND BETWEEN STRANGERS by Scarlet Wilson
Both titles are available now
Dear Reader
I was absolutely delighted to be asked to write a linked duet with fellow author Anne Fraser. After much brainstorming and lots of e-mails this was the story we finally agreed on.
The story is about a wrongly implanted embryo, and is told from the point of view of the father. John Carter created embryos with an egg donor for use in his marriage. But his marriage is long since over and, due to legal issues, he expects to receive a letter from the clinic telling him that his embryos have been destroyed. Instead he receives a letter telling him that his embryo was mistakenly implanted into another woman some months before!
Lily Grayson became an egg donor after learning some family history and to help fund herself through college. Having a gorgeous man accost her at an airfield and ask for help to get his baby back is the last thing she expects!
The outcomes aren’t straightforward either—which gave us lots of leeway with this story. How do both couples get a happy-ever-after from a story like this?
You can let us know if you think we succeeded!
Feel free to contact me via my website: www.scarlet-wilson.com
Many thanks
Scarlet Wilson wrote her first story aged eight and has never stopped. Her family have fond memories of
She trained and worked as a nurse and health visitor, and now currently works in public health. For her, finding medical romances was a match made in heaven. She is delighted to find herself among the authors she has read for many years.
Scarlet lives on the West Coast of Scotland with her fiancé and their two sons.
A Bond
Between
Strangers
Praise forScarlet Wilson:
‘Stirring, emotional and wonderfully absorbing,
IT STARTED WITH A PREGNANCY is an
impressive debut novel from a fabulous new voice
in category romance: Scarlet Wilson!’
JOHN CARTER’S feet thudded along the pavement in rapid, regular beats. The early morning sun was beating down on his back, trickles of sweat pooling around the waistband of his shorts. He rounded the corner of his street, slowing to a stop outside his house.
He leaned forward, taking slow, practised breaths as his heart continued thudding against his chest. He’d been running this same route along the San Francisco Bay area for the last two years, but it didn’t seem to get any easier.
He grabbed his water bottle from his waistband and took a slug. Right now he was wishing it contained anything but water. The flag on the mailbox was up. The mailman had been early today.
John took a few moments to stretch out his aching limbs. His hamstring twitched again. Damn. He’d agreed to play five-a-side soccer tonight with some English colleagues. The last thing he needed was a pulled hamstring.
He reached into the mailbox and pulled out the barrage of catalogues and envelopes. A frown creased his face and he walked up towards his porch. He sat on the decking outside as he sorted through the mail, glancing at his watch. In another fifteen minutes’ time he’d have had a quick shower and be at work, ready to spend most of the day in the operating theatre. There wasn’t even any point going into the kitchen. The fridge was virtually empty and so were his cupboards. He’d discovered as much when he’d got home late last night, starving after spending hours in the office. He didn’t even have any coffee left. No matter how much he tried to avoid it, he was really going to have to do a grocery shop some time soon.
He flicked past the usual array of catalogues containing clothes, make-up, candles, jewellery—or the latest ‘diet’ miracle—all addressed to his ex-wife, Tabitha Carter.
Without blinking an eye, he tossed them all into his nearby rubbish bin. It wasn’t as if she’d come looking for them. Wherever Tabitha had ended up, doubtless she’d re-sent for them all. Two years on, many tears and tantrums later, his divorce attorney still hadn’t tracked the woman down—though thankfully he had managed to acquire her signature.
The only thing she wanted from him these days were the alimony cheques.
His fingers stopped their automatic trawl through the mail. The usual bills and free offers were ignored. One envelope was different from the rest. Bulkier. Heavier-quality paper, premium bonded. And although there was no emblem, he’d recognise their mail anywhere.
This was it. The final nail in the coffin of his disastrous marriage.
He sighed and looked out over the family-friendly cul-de-sac where they’d lived. Tabitha had never fitted in here. She’d hated the fact that everyone’s kids played out in the front yards. She’d hated little people trooping in and out of their home in a search for cookies or someone to fix their bikes.
This was the perfect family home.
Just not for them.
The initial fertility tests had created more toddler-sized tantrums than he’d ever seen. The discovery that Tabitha didn’t have any viable eggs had taken her months to recover from. The selection of an egg donor had almost resulted in their first major fallout. The first round of IVF had been fraught with difficulties—mainly because Tabitha hadn’t followed any of the instructions she’d been given.
The second round of IVF had resulted in an ectopic pregnancy. At this point Tabitha had refused to tolerate any more treatment.
And by this stage John had been inclined to agree. The cracks in their marriage had migrated into a fully fledged San Andreas fault.
Tabitha’s leaving hadn’t really had an impact on him. Emptying the joint bank account and driving off in his new car hadn’t created more than a few minor inconveniences. It had also gave him free rein to buy the Ducati motorbike he’d really wanted.
He’d just been happy she’d left the house intact.
But the thought of never having kids, never having the family that he’d always wanted, cut him deeper than he could ever have imagined.
There was still time. He still had some chance of meeting someone new, someone who might want to settle down and have kids. But at his age, thirty-nine, the chances seemed to be reducing every day. It had been three years since they’d tried IVF—two years since Tabitha had left. And in two years? He hadn’t had one date that had remotely interested him. Too young, too old. Too career orientated, and the best one—the women who were only interested in him because he was a doctor.
Just like Tabitha. Once bitten, twice shy.
He turned the letter over in his hands.
This was it. His final dealings with the clinic. The letter telling him that the remaining viable embryos had been destroyed.
And for now his hopes of fatherhood would have to be put to one side.
He tore open the envelope, pulled out the letter and scanned the page.
He gave a jolt. As if a bolt of electricity had just ran through his body. He stood up, his body on autopilot, his eyes never leaving the page as he tried to take in the words. ‘…our sincerest apologies…never in our clinic’s history…wrongly implanted…numerous messages.’
He marched into his house. Sure enough. The answering-machine was blinking. He hadn’t looked at it in the last three days—work had been crazy. Sixteen messages. He didn’t even need to listen to them. He started stripping off his running gear as he strode into the shower. Work was the last place he would be today.
Somewhere out there—someone was carrying his baby.
LILY GRAYSON carried out her safety checks one last time. It didn’t matter that she was jumping with a fully qualified instructor. It didn’t matter that this airfield and accompanying flying school had an impeccable record. It didn’t matter that a fully qualified rigger would have already packed her chute. It didn’t matter that she was almost fully qualified herself.
Lily always checked her own parachutes—main and reserve—herself. Period. For an adrenaline junkie like Lily it was all part of the build up to the event. Part of the rush.
She gave a little smile as she glanced down at her new bright purple flight suit, complete with pink writing on the back, ‘Here Comes Lily’. No one could miss her.
She was fed up with wearing the ugly khaki regulation suits. This was her third jump for charity—her twentieth for herself—so she’d decided the investment was worth it. She pulled on her matching helmet and wandered over to where the newbies stood. They were hanging onto instructor Ryan’s every word as if their lives depended on it—which, in fact, it probably did. Their knees were trembling so much the sound was almost audible.
She couldn’t remember ever feeling like that. Why be scared? This was one of the most exhilarating things in the world. The feeling when you jumped out into nothing, the smack of the air hitting your cheeks, streaming through the tiny hairs sticking out the back of your helmet. The whoosh when you pulled the cord and you were suspended in mid-air and the ground was rushing up to meet you.
The palms of her hands itched. She couldn’t wait to get up there.
‘Hi, stranger. You again. What charity did you hoodwink this time to get a free jump?’
Dan, one of the other jump instructors, flung an easy arm around her shoulders. His six-foot-five frame dwarfed her five feet five.
She shot him a grin. ‘I’ll have you know I’m about to raise over seven thousand dollars for a leading children’s cancer charity. They were very keen when I offered to jump for them.’ A glint appeared in her eye. This was definitely a two-way street. She got to do the thing she loved and the cancer charity got to make money. She wished she’d thought of this years ago.
‘I just need another five minutes with these guys.’ Dan waved his arm towards the nervous participants.
Lily gave a nod. The hangar was hot today and she unbuttoned the top of the flight suit and wriggled her arms out, tying it at her waist. The bright pink T-shirt she wore matched the writing on her suit and the jump shoes on her feet. She wandered over to the open hangar doors and stood looking out over the airfield.
There were several planes being prepared and she gave a smile as one of the pilots gave her a wave. That was what she liked about this place. All friends. No drama. Just a warm welcome whenever you arrived.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a motorbike speeding along the country road. He was going far too fast. But, then, he was obviously experienced, hugging the corners and dipping down towards the road.
She saw his helmet rise as if looking for the turn-off then, sure enough, he signalled and moved into the airfield. She shook her head. She’d no idea who he was, but there was no way Dan would let anyone jump without the full briefing. Evel Knievel would have to wait for the next jump.
* * *
Carter felt his heart pounding in his chest. Almost two weeks on and his world had collapsed around him. His wayward ex-wife couldn’t be found.
He’d spent exorbitant amounts of money hiring an attorney and a private detective. The attorney was dealing with all the legal aspects from the clinic as Carter was too angry to speak to them right now. The private detective? So far, he’d been to Los Angeles and Las Vegas and found nothing.
Not even his ex-wife’s bank would help. They wouldn’t even tell him how she was accessing his money.
His attorney was an old friend from college and had made a new suggestion. It was probably for the best that Tabitha couldn’t be found—she would be horrified by what had happened, and she probably wasn’t a poster girl for motherhood.
But Carter and Tabitha had spent a long time selecting their egg donor from the hundreds of women on file with the clinic. He’d seen her picture, knew what age she was, knew she had an Ivy League education and knew she lived locally. How hard could it be to find her?
And so he’d put his private detective to work again. To track down his egg donor. And he’d found her. Lily Grayson, twenty-seven. Trained at University of Pennsylvania and working as a nurse in one of the other San Francisco hospitals. And today she was here, doing a jump for one of the charities.
He swung his leg over the bike and stretched his back, pulling off his helmet and looking around him. How hard could she be to find? He’d been here before. He’d done a few jumps from here—another of his thrill factors. Maybe he’d find someone who knew her?
He could see a number of figures around one of the hangars and moved swiftly in that direction. A woman was leaning against the hangar door, her bright purple flight suit around her waist, her pink helmet in her hand.
He glanced quickly at his photo. No, she was definitely a blonde. The woman he was looking for was a brunette. Pity.
She sat her helmet at her feet and folded her arms across her chest, covering his view of her well-shaped body. ‘Well, lucky me,’ came the sassy voice as she raised her eyes skyward. ‘Someone up there has definitely been listening to my requests. A big, solid, dark-haired leather-clad biker, all to myself.’
He could see the smile dancing around her lips. And he could smell her perfume, but it wasn’t spicy like her, it was light and floral, a scent he recognised from his garden—honeysuckle.
‘And who might you be looking for?’ she continued. There was a twinkle in her brown eyes and for a second he almost wished they were green. Like the photo in his pocket.
It was the first time in a long time he’d felt inclined to flirt.
He sighed, then gave her a smile anyway. ‘I’m looking for a beautiful woman, but unfortunately she’s a brunette, not a blonde.’ He gave a nod at her blonde hair.
‘Damn! I thought blondes were meant to have more fun?’
Curiosity piqued him. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Now, why would I tell my name to a man who prefers brunettes?’ She was as sharp as a whip. ‘What’s your name, stranger?’
He liked her. For the first time in a long time he actually liked a woman. ‘John Carter. But my friends just call me Carter.’
‘Then I guess I should just call you John.’ Her answer came as quick as a flash. She stuck her hand out towards him and looked over her shoulder. ‘Here, at this airfield, they call me Dynamo.’
Their hands met, the electricity between them so loud it practically crackled. She was slim without being skinny, but with enough curves to make you look twice.
Carter gave a wider smile, ‘I wonder why….’ His voice trailed off then he fixed his eyes on her again. ‘Dynamo seems appropriate.’
She looked over to the car park. ‘How long have you had your bike?’
He shrugged. ‘A couple of years. I’d wanted one for quite a while and when the opportunity arose, I grabbed it with both hands.’ He looked back at his bike. ‘Probably time to trade it in for a newer version.’
Her brow puckered. ‘I like the colour scheme. It’s even nicer than my baby.’ She pointed to the other end of the car park where her silver and red Ducati was parked.
He gave a little start of surprise. ‘Looks like we’re a matching pair.’ His eyes met hers.
She looked up and down his tall frame. ‘Most of the bikers I meet in San Francisco are the long-haired, hairy type. Either that or they’re gay. Where did you spring from?’
He snorted with laughter. Her sassy attitude and spark was beginning to draw him in. Make him lose focus and forget the reason he was there. To find the donor. To win back his child.
He straightened his shoulders. ‘Nice to meet you, Dynamo, but I’d better be going.’ He strode off into the hangar.
‘Hey, John,’ she shouted after him, pausing whilst he turned back round. ‘I think you should reconsider your decision. You’re cutting out almost half of the female population, restricting yourself to brunettes.’ A twinkle appeared in her eyes, ‘Plus you didn’t ask if I was a natural blonde.’ And with that she stuck her helmet back on her head and headed out onto the airstrip.
He gave her a smile, holding back his laughter at the pointed use of his first name. Who on earth was she? He walked further into the hangar to the group of nervous-looking jumpers, all standing in their regulation flight suits next to their carefully packed parachutes. ‘Hey, Dan, I was wondering if you could help me find someone?’ Dan was leaning downwards, looking at someone’s ankle, and Carter gave him a slap on the shoulder.
Dan didn’t miss a beat. ‘Perfect. Carter, take a look at this for me. This man’s been bothered with his ankle this week and developed a limp—I don’t think it’s wise for him to jump at the moment.’
Carter fell to his knees and stripped the ankle of the thick woollen sock protecting it. The dark purple bruises made him sit back. He gave a wry smile, ‘I don’t even need to touch that.’ He shook his head. ‘There’s no way you can jump with an ankle like that. Your ankles take all the impact when you land. You could do some serious damage.’
The man looked panicked. ‘But I’m about to raise three thousand dollars for the charity. If I don’t do it, the charity won’t get the money.’
Dan looked from one to the other. ‘Does it have to be you that does the jump or does it just have to be someone?’
The man blinked. ‘Eh….someone, I think.’ He held his hands up. ‘But there’s no extra people around and we’re due to take off in ten minutes. Where on earth will you find a replacement?’
Dan’s face broke into a wild smile. ‘Easiest thing in the world. Meet Carter. High-flying doc. Done more jumps than I could count. I’m sure he’ll fill in for you—won’t you, Carter?’
Carter hesitated—obviously for a fraction too long because Dan slid an arm around his shoulders. ‘It’s for charity.’ He tapped him on the chest. ‘And I know you, you wouldn’t want the charity to lose money because they didn’t have enough people to do their jump.’
Carter sighed. ‘I’ll do it on one condition.’
Dan raised his eyebrows, ‘And what’s that?’
‘You help me find this girl—Lily Grayson. Someone at the hospital where she works told me she was doing a jump here today.’ He’d pulled the crumpled photograph from his pocket. It was already looking dog-eared. He’d printed it from his computer off the clinic’s website.
Dan’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why are you looking for Lily? Has she done something wrong?’ Almost immediately Carter sensed the vibe. The protective vibe. He’d be wise not to say too much if he was looking for help.
‘No—nothing’s wrong. She’s done something really good. I just wanted to thank her.’ Not strictly true, but it was the best he could do at short notice.
Dan looked over Carter’s leather-clad figure. ‘Better get changed, then. Lily’s up in the next jump—you can thank her then.’ He pointed in the direction of the lockers, ‘Take one of my suits, they’ll fit you fine. But be quick, we need to be ready to go in five minutes.’
Carter strode over to the lockers, stripping off his leather jacket and unfastening his trousers. He found alternative clothes in Dan’s locker and pulled them on before donning the red flight suit and matching helmet. He glanced back around the room. There were several women there. But all had their helmets hiding their hair and faces. Hopefully Dan would point Lily out once they got in the plane.
He spent the next few minutes checking his parachute and signing his paperwork. Since he’d done it so many times before it was all routine to him. He caught sight of the purple-suited figure scrambling onto the plane ahead of him. What was that writing on her back?
He moved through the crowd until he was closer to Dan. ‘Which one’s Lily?’ he asked as they stepped into the aircraft.
The rest of the party was all sitting along the sides of the plane, ready for take-off. Dan looked up. ‘Far end. Purple flight suit, pink helmet. This is her twentieth jump.’
The engine and propeller started up, filling the back of the aircraft with noise. Carter felt a lump in his throat. She was Lily?
The one woman he’d met in the past year that he’d had even the vaguest connection with? It seemed unreal.
Worse than that, it was a disaster. She was as much a daredevil as he was. Twenty jumps? She’d almost matched his record. Plus, a matching Ducati.
He groaned. This wasn’t what he’d hoped for. Worse than that, this wasn’t what his attorney had hoped for.
When they hadn’t been able to find Tabitha, the attorney had suggested trying another tactic. They needed to build a case for Carter to keep the baby that some other woman was currently carrying.
The genetics might be obvious. But some judges took pity on the poor woman implanted with the wrong baby and the possible risks to her health. This woman wasn’t a willing surrogate. This woman had thought she was getting a baby of her own.
In a way, it was lucky they’d only found out at around the twenty-eight-week mark. By that point she had been visibly pregnant and it had been too late for termination—no matter what the reason.
Carter needed to build a case for himself. He needed to prove he could be an able parent. And with no current partner, that could be difficult. Sometimes judges, rightly or wrongly, didn’t look favourably on male, single parents. So his attorney had suggested he find the egg donor.
It shouldn’t be too hard—he’d already seen her photograph and knew her most basic details via the clinic database. But he only had a few days to do it. The newspapers had already got a whiff of the story and any day now it was going to be front-page news. So he had to find her quickly. All he had to do was persuade her to side with him in court. Maybe even pretend to have a vested interest in this baby.
What sort of woman would give up their eggs? What woman would choose to be an egg donor? There had to be a good reason for it and Carter hoped he could find it.
He glanced down the plane towards Lily. Now he understood the comment about ‘being a natural blonde’—she wasn’t. But that didn’t explain her eye colour. In the clinic photograph her eyes were green. But today they were definitely brown.
Something twisted inside his gut. Could she have lied about something like that? Her eye colour had been one of the reasons that they’d picked her—that, and her Ivy League education. Eye colour had been important because Tabitha had green eyes too so it meant a closer match to them.
Carter felt the plane beginning to circle. Dan stood up and walked along the plane, giving everyone a number. The first-timers were going to go first. Some of them were tandem-jumping with an instructor, so Carter edged up the bench out of their way.
He found himself next to Lily and she unsuspectingly gave him another wide grin. ‘I didn’t know you were a fellow jumper.’ She smiled. ‘I thought you came to find a woman.’
‘I did.’ He looked at her closely. Was she wearing contacts? Brown ones?
Lily shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. This light-hearted flirtation suddenly felt different. Maybe it was being stuck in the back of a plane with a virtual stranger who was looking at her oddly. But something about this was making her uneasy.
She bit her lip. ‘Then who is she?’
Carter fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the rumpled photograph. ‘She’s Lily Grayson.’ He pushed her shoulders forward a little to read the writing across her back. ‘“Here Comes Lily”—I take it that means you.’
Lily took the photograph from his hands, staring at the person on the paper. She recognised the photograph immediately and knew exactly where it had come from. In the photograph she looked different, her hair was brown with curls. ‘That seems like years ago,’ she murmured.
‘More than three years, to be precise.’
She jerked at the edge to his words. He was sitting so close to her. It was hard to hear in the back of the aircraft and his lips were brushing her ear. Nothing about this felt right.
Her stomach started to churn. This had to be about egg donation. It was the only place she’d used that photograph. Was something wrong? Had a baby been born with some horrible disease from an egg she’d donated?
‘What’s with the eye colour?’ he asked.
She frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘In your profile you said you had green eyes. But today…’ he leaned right in so their noses were almost touching ‘…your eyes are definitely brown.’
She drew backwards and wrinkled her nose, shaking her head. ‘Who are you—the eye-colour police?’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I didn’t think the green eyes went well with my new blonde look, so I changed them.’
She looked at his stunned face. ‘What? You haven’t heard of coloured contacts? Or, did you think I’d lied in my clinic application?’
She stared at his serious face and leaned backwards. All of this was making her uncomfortable. As far as she knew, she didn’t have any genetic disorder than would cause problems for a baby. So why on earth would he be looking for her? And more importantly, why did he have to be so darned handsome? ‘What exactly do you want, Mr Carter?’
‘I’m looking for someone to help me.’
‘Help you do what?’
‘I want you to help me get my baby back.’
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