Her Baby's Father

“I have bad luck with men.”

How could she? She was the kind of woman most men lusted after. He raised an eyebrow and waited for her to continue. She was hedging—he knew it.

“I’m thirty,” she said.

This time there was a hopeful note in her voice, as if maybe he’d buy her answer and let her off the hook. No way. Any woman who caused this kind of internal havoc with him was going to have to suffer the same.

“Thirty is not too old to do it the old-fashioned way. How about the truth?” Something about this woman compelled him to delve deeper and deeper. To find out all of her secrets. To peel away the shells she used to protect herself and find her heart.

“I like to be in control. I hate having some man telling me what to do and where to go. And all my married friends don’t have that freedom. Plus the men I’m attracted to aren’t interested in being fathers.”

So, she wasn’t ditzy and she had spunk. Each layer he was revealing drew him deeper into her mystery. She was funny, gorgeous and successful, if her classic car was any indication—she didn’t need to be inseminated. But she’d made that choice.

He’d started his career as an investigative reporter because he loved solving puzzles and finding the commonality in the most juxtapositioned facts. He liked following a thought to its complicated conclusion and discovering the hidden desires that motivated people. These instincts had served him well while he’d worked the inner-city beat, and for the first time in his job as a life-styles writer he was hungry again, ready to delve, and dig, and expose.

He wanted to take her apart and find out how she ticked. Take away the pieces that were for show, the pieces that kept the world away, and find the true Sabrina MacFadden.

The thought propelled him to his feet. He didn’t get involved with “good” women. Sure, he dated, but it was the usual bar-scene-one-night-stand type of woman. Women who wanted a family didn’t appeal to him. He was a bachelor and planned on playing the field until he was too old to enjoy sex. Hopefully, into his eighties.

She stood as well. He tossed some bills on the table to cover the check. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Her curls swayed in the wind, and he watched as she gathered the thick mass in one hand.

He wanted her. It was sudden but had been building all afternoon. He wanted to peel away her professional suit and lay her bare on the wood deck of his boat. Nothing but the elements around her. Nothing but him and her, the sun and sea.

But he couldn’t have her. Not now, not ever. More than professional ethics played into his decision. More than civilization and the rules of dating and courtship. More than he wanted to admit.

He couldn’t have her because she was the kind of woman who wouldn’t accept the boundaries he put on relationships. And he knew with gut-deep certainty that she’d push him until she had the response she wanted. Soft words and demonstrations of affection.

“Okay, the magazine will take care of getting the paperwork going and I’ll see you next week after your consultation,” he said.

“Want to meet here again?”

“Sure,” he said. He had to get away before he suggested they go home together. Suggested he father a child for her. Suggested they get to the real heart of the matter. Uncover the reason this successful woman peered at him with such vulnerability—and why he wanted to cradle her in his arms and protect her.

“I’ll be on time,” she said, and walked away.

He watched her hips sway with each step, and despite his uncomfortable arousal, he felt alive in a way that he hadn’t in years.

The doctor’s office was cold and sterile, even though Monet prints decorated the walls. Nerves and anxious tension settled over her, making her stomach roil. Today was just a preliminary examination, but on her next visit she’d be inseminated. God, she was excited and scared. She was so close to her dream come true.

It was impossible to feel comfortable when you were perched on the edge of a padded table in a paper robe. She glanced around the room, and her gaze fell on the cutaway diagram of a woman’s internal organs. Ugh, she didn’t need to see what was in there, as long as they worked the way they should.

Lately she’d had doubts about the process, about whether this decision was the right one, especially after meeting Reese Howard a week ago. Never before had she felt an instant attraction to a man. In fact, she’d believed lust at first sight was a myth.

But something about Reese’s midnight eyes had cut straight to her soul. He’d seen past the excuses she’d given everyone else about wanting a baby and forced her to reveal…the heart.

He’d demanded it and she’d given it willingly. He was a dangerous man—for her. He asked for things that she’d always wanted to give, answers no one else had been willing to hear. Talking with him had been a joy, really a joy. To share herself and not see that glazed-over look in his eyes had shown her that there was more to men than she’d believed.

Stop thinking about him!

She gazed at a poster of the growth stages of a fetus. Sabrina studied the drawings and her fears started to evaporate. Soon she’d cradle life in her womb. Soon she’d be a part of history, not the written-down kind that was told and retold, but the living kind. The part that survived in spite of politics and social trends. The honest part of life that continued no matter what.

Her doctor entered and after a quick exam told her to change and come into his office. She knew why. There was a lot of insurance paperwork to be done. She dressed quickly and wondered if Reese would be waiting for her. Of course, she knew they’d already planned to meet across the street, but would he show up?

She’d dreamed about him last night, and it had been years since any “real” man had played a part in her dreams. Hollywood heartthrobs had drifted in and out of her dreamscape, but never a man she knew. Reese Howard hadn’t drifted quietly through her imagination. He’d forced his way in and taken over completely.

She met Dr. Hyde in his office and filled out the final paperwork. He talked to her again about the process and allayed a few of her fears about what information he’d be giving the magazine. Her medical history was her own, and there was information she didn’t want to share. Past mistakes that would bring into question her current decision.

She left his office and hurried across the street. Though it was summer, a cool breeze filled the air, and she tugged her lightweight sweater closer to her body. Quelling the excitement pulsing through her veins, she reminded herself that Reese Howard wouldn’t be in her life if she hadn’t decided to go to a sperm bank.

He was waiting at the same patio table where they’d sat last time. He wore an aviator-style leather jacket and faded jeans.

“Late again,” he said.

Smiling ruefully, she nodded. Punctuality was her cross to bear. She never made it anywhere on time no matter how hard she tried. She’d even set her watch fifteen minutes early for a few months, but that hadn’t helped. So she’d stopped wearing one altogether.

He stood and pulled out her chair. The smells of the wind and the sea clung to him. She wanted to somehow get closer to him. To sit on his lap and tell him all her fears and secrets, which she couldn’t do.

Because he was going to record her secrets and then tell them to the world. You agreed to this, she reminded herself. Taking a deep breath, she willed away the nervous butterflies, the doubts pounding her like the endless cycle of the waves against the shore, eroding slowly what nature had created at the beginning of time.

Was she fit to be a mother?

He sat with his back to the bay this time, and his sunglasses lay on the table next to his notepad. He didn’t look like a reporter, she thought.

“Sorry about being late, again. But Dr. Hyde needed me to fill out a few extra forms this visit.”

“For insurance.”

“Yes,” she said. A waiter approached and Sabrina ordered herbal tea before Reese could order for her. He lifted one eyebrow in question, but she ignored him. The waiter left and she toyed with the ring her parents had given her on her twenty-fifth birthday. A pretty emerald heart set in white gold.

“You seem a little pale,” he said.

Damn, she’d hoped he wouldn’t notice. “Must be from ordering for myself. All the pressure.”

His mouth crinkled, and she thought he’d laugh but he didn’t. “Next time I’ll order for you.”

She’d always enjoyed banter, and now she’d found a safe partner to do it with. And the escape she’d been seeking from her own doubts. “That’s okay, I think I better start getting used to it. After all, I’m almost thirty.”

He paused, leaned across the table and gestured for her to come closer. She did.

“It might be too late to teach an old dog a new trick,” he said softly.

“Who are you calling an old dog?” she demanded.

He laughed out loud this time, and she’d never seen anything more beautiful. Laughter actually changed this man’s visage from almost uncivilized to enchanting.

He shrugged. “No one. It’s a saying.”

“Not a nice one,” she said. But she wasn’t offended. He’d made her forget her worries for a few minutes. It wasn’t her hopes for a baby that woke her up nights in a sweat, but her past. The agreement she’d made with the magazine that sometimes she wished she hadn’t.