Page 1 of Baby Bodyguard

Prologue

“What doyou mean I’m too old to havesixchildren?” Sami Fontaine demanded. “I’m still in my twenties. Ihave plenty of time.”

Rosie—Sami’s sometime housekeeper and all-the-time best friend—had the unmitigated gall to snort. “Give it up, sweetie. I’ve known you for years now. Ever since you rescued me from that awful maid’s job next door. You’re the same age I am. That means you’ve left the big three-oh behind and are rapidly sliding into a solid over-the-hill thirty-one.”

Sami scowled. “Not until next week.”

Rosie leaned back against the couch cushions and rested her teacup and saucer on top of her heavily pregnant belly. “Be reasonable. Having six kids is a huge stretch.” She ticked off on her fingers. “You don’t have a husband. You don’t even have a boyfriend. Assuming you find the love of your life within the nextyear and marry, you’ll be pushing thirty-two before you have your first kid.”

“So?”

“Do the math. Are you planning on having a baby a year?”

Sami’s jaw inched out. “Maybe.”

Rosie gave another of her annoying little snorts. “Not a chance. You know full well it’s not healthy for you or your children. Look at my relatives. Carmela and Daria have six childrenbetweenthem and they barely have a brain cell to rub together. Those kids run them ragged. You watch.” She patted her belly. “As soon as I have junior, here, Iwon’t have a brain, either.”

“But they’re such sweet kids,” Sami said wistfully.

“I adore them to pieces, too. But it takes four adult women to keep six kids in line. What does that tell you?”

Sami shot her friend a mischievous grin. “That we’re rotten disciplinarians?”

“You’re getting off track.”

“I excel at that.”

“We’ve all noticed.” Rosie took a quick sip of tea, her expression growing serious. “Let’s figure this out logically.”

“Let’s not. You know how I hate logical people.” Sami made a face. “They’re so… logical.”

“You mean sensible.”

“Even worse,” Sami said with a shudder.

“Honey, if you’re going to have a baby, you don’t have much choice. You must be sensible.”

Sami released her breath in a gusty sigh. “All right, hit me. How am I not being sensible?”

“If you space your pregnancies two years apart, you’re talking about twelve years. That’s pushing it age-wise, Sami. Do the math,” she instructed again.

“I’ve never been particularly good at calculations.”

“No, you’ve never been particularly good at facing facts. Why, you’d be popping out that sixth one when you’re in your forties! Do you realize how old that’ll make you when your youngest graduates from high school? Assuming you survive that long with your sanity intact. And assuming all your parts haven’t already atrophied.”

“Atrophied!”

Rosie swept her hand through the air, the teacup rattling in its saucer. “Hey, you snooze, you lose. When’s the last time you gave everything a good shakedown? Run your engine at full throttle?”

“I’ve throttled plenty,” Sami insisted. “In fact, I’m thinking about throttling you right this very minute.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it. You’re afraid of marriage. Admit it.”

“Fine. I’ll admit it. I’m petrified of marriage.”

“And we both know why.” Rosie threw her a sympathetic look. “But it’s a little tough to have kids without a father. Ask Daria. So unless you find a way past your aversion, Isuggest you reconsider having babies anytime soon.”

Sami drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair. “I hate being told no.”

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