The Pregnant Virgin

“Y-yes. Of course,” she said, slamming her book closed and reaching for the top folder on the stack next to her. But when she glanced up again he flashed her his toothy smile and she could have sworn the air conditioning had stopped working.

Quickly she looked away and skimmed the contents of his file. “I see you’ve done all the preliminary work. Looks like everything’s in order.” Keeping her head down, she opened her appointment book. “How often do you plan to come?”

“Excuse me?”

“Once a week? Once a month?”

“Oh.”

She heard him exhale and she thought he must be nervous. Not unusual. Especially for first-timers.

“Uh—” he tapped on the counter “—let’s say once a week.”

Eyes still down, she asked, “Is this day and time good for you?”

“Yes, yes. Fine.”

“If you’ll have a seat, someone will be with you shortly.”

Out of the corner of her eye she watched as he passed her desk. His jeans were worn and tight, and she decided she liked this look better than the scrubs, although both packages were spectacular.

Damn. Why was she playing this game? After all, she was critical of guys who leered after women simply for their looks. Besides, she would never go out with someone who worked at the hospital. Especially not a doctor who probably thought he was God.

Aha! Now it all made sense. He was here in hopes of making little Gods—his contribution to mankind.

She pushed out of her chair and stuck the folder labeled “Darling, Brad” in the rack beside the closed door, admonishing herself for such shallow musings. Hopefully the technician would come out soon and usher the guy away.

But for some reason there was a delay and she heard Doctor Boy approach a while later. He stopped at the side of her desk and flashed her his Brad Pitt dimpled smile.

“Sorry to bother you. Any idea how much longer? I have to get back to work.”

If his hair was blond he could double for her favorite actor, she mused, his question taking a beat to register. “Um…let me go find out what the holdup is.” She stood, but he didn’t back up, giving her little room to navigate. She stared at a dark tuft of chest hair peeking above the second button of his light blue shirt and waited for him to move. He stood there riveted and she let her eyes drift up to his.

Big mistake.

Too blue. Too intense.

The door to the back opened and they both turned toward it.

“Darling?” the technician asked.

“Yes,” he said, then smiled at Ali one last time before he walked away.

Ali heaved a sigh and sat down. The book caught her eye, and she immediately grabbed it and opened the desk drawer. With one last look at the bare-chested hero on the cover, she shoved it into her purse. Maybe her sister had been right. At the very least, this wasn’t the best place to read a romance novel.

Fortunately the phone rang, then other clients arrived, and Ali suddenly found herself very busy.

But when “Darling, Brad” sheepishly passed her desk a while later and headed for the exit, her gaze followed him.

And in that instant a seed of an idea began to take root.

Brad walked briskly around the exterior of the sprawling complex, muttering under his breath. What had gotten into him back there? Flirting with her like that. The last thing he needed was a personal relationship with someone who worked at the sperm bank he planned to visit every week.

Real discreet, guy. Real discreet.

He yanked open a back door and strode inside. So what if she’s a knockout and built like a brick—

Forget it. Forget her.

He picked up his pace to the lounge and his locker. She could be the star of “Baywatch” with a Mensa IQ and it wouldn’t matter. He didn’t have time for a social life. At least not until his residency was over, and even then he would be hard-pressed to foot the tab for dinner and a movie.

With no one in sight he quickly changed back into his aqua scrubs, trying not to dwell on how long it would take him to repay one hundred and twenty thousand dollars in student loans.

Still, as the day progressed, Brad’s worries about money were replaced by the image of the woman in the clinic. He would see a patient with blond hair and it would remind him of hers—long, thick and silky-looking. He wondered what it would feel like and how she would look with it mussed and falling in her face. Sometimes he’d catch himself and redirect his thoughts. Other times he’d simply smile and go with the flow.

When things slowed around midnight, he found an empty bed and settled in for a short nap. As usual the day had been long and grueling and he was beat. With a weary sigh he closed his eyes. And there she was again.

Ali called Michelle Singleton, a computer consultant who had helped her get the position at the clinic. She’d met Michelle at her previous job where the team of arrogant doctors had used Michelle’s services. When Michelle gave notice that she wouldn’t be working for them any longer, Ali asked Michelle’s help in getting her out, too. A close friendship had been developing ever since.

As luck would have it, Michelle was free for lunch and she agreed to meet Ali in the cafeteria.

Ali arrived a few minutes early and staked out the same table she’d used with her sister the day before, except this time she sat on the opposite side. She tried to lie to herself as to why she did this, but she knew the truth. People were creatures of habit. Maybe that handsome creature would sit at his same table, too, and this way she wouldn’t have to crane her neck to watch him.

Michelle placed her tray on the table a moment later and sat down. “How’s the new job going?”

“Great. I owe you one.”

The table behind Michelle remained empty and the women ate and made small talk until Ali finally worked up enough courage to broach the reason for getting together.

“There’s something personal I’d like to ask you, but if you’d rather not discuss it, I’ll understand.”

Michelle wiped her mouth with her napkin and sat back. “I can’t imagine what would be so private, but fire away.”

“Your insemination,” Ali said, not beating around the bush. Michelle had confided her own trip to the clinic a few years ago. Now Ali wanted more details.

“Oh, that.” Michelle leaned forward and lowered her voice. “No problem. What do you want to know?”

Before Ali answered the question she said that her mind was made up to do it and that she’d already been to another clinic for a complete physical and work-up.

“Good idea. If I had to do it over I wouldn’t have used the hospital’s clinic, either. Too much breach of confidentiality risk.” Michelle whispered, “So this is why you were so interested in that job! Smart girl—learning all about things first. But do I detect a little reservation in your voice?”

“It’s going to sound silly—”

“No, go ahead.”

“The father. Didn’t it bother you that you didn’t even have a face or—” Brad Darling sat down at the table behind Michelle and Ali stopped midsentence.

“Yes, it did,” Michelle said.