Nashville Rebel

“Yes, let’s do it,” she said, finally managing to rid her jumbled mind of the idea of having his child. “Let’s go through the sites tonight.” She needed to find a donor, a stranger.

And she was going to make sure it was someone who looked nothing like Tommy, someone who didn’t have the slightest thing in common with him.

Two (#uf9bd4316-f001-59ce-892c-5f52e976c1df)

Tommy sat next to Sophie at the computer desk in her home office, where they’d been for the past hour. She scrolled the donor search catalogs she’d bookmarked.

He could barely believe this was happening. Not just her wanting a baby, but the fact she was resigning as his tour manager. She was supposed to be a permanent fixture on the road, a constant he could count on. Sure, she would be an asset to his business management team. But that wasn’t the same as her managing his tours. Life on the road was the soul of his existence, what he loved most about his job, and Sophie had always been part of it.

He studied her profile and the way her unruly hair framed her face, with one strand falling farther forward than the rest. He’d always been fascinated with her hair. When they were kids, she’d kept it short. She was just the cutest thing back then, following him everywhere he went. He wished that she was still trailing after him, instead of bailing out to have a baby.

So far, her donor search wasn’t going well. She rejected one guy after the next. But Tommy didn’t mind. He hoped that she might forget the whole idea, anyway.

With a sigh, she reached for one of the cookies he’d brought, dunked it in her milk and took a gooey bite. She kept dunking and eating until it was gone.

A second later, she licked the lingering mess from her lips, making him hungry to kiss her. Of course, that wasn’t anything new. He’d been longing to taste that pouty mouth of hers since they were teenagers. If he thought he could haul her off to bed, he would strip her bare this very instant. Some people believed that sex between friends would complicate matters, but Tommy wasn’t of that mind-set. Of course he had to consider Sophie’s feelings, and he understood that being friends with benefits wasn’t her style. She’d made that clear a long time ago.

He leaned closer to get a whiff of her perfume. She always smelled so sweet and good.

She shot him a wary frown. “What are you doing?”

He lied like a schoolboy. “You’re blocking my view.” Earlier she’d attached a large monitor, mouse and keyboard to her laptop to make their joint effort easier; he could see just fine.

“Sorry.” She rolled aside her chair, obviously trying to make room for him. “Is that better?”

He nodded and made a show of looking at the screen, where her latest rejection, a surfer-type dude, offered his best smile. “Why are they all so young?”

“This particular bank only accepts donors in their mid-to-late twenties.”

“And you’re okay with that?” He didn’t like the idea one bit. “It’s as if you’re robbing the cradle or something.”

She shook her head. “What about you and those fine young groupies who worship at your feet? At least I’m only looking at these guys for—”

“How smart and handsome and virile they are,” he interjected. As much as he hated to admit it, he was getting envious of the donors. It almost seemed as if she was searching for a lover. “Maybe you really should send in some pictures of me. You can dredge some up from when I was in my twenties.” He paused for effect. “If you’re lucky, there might be a match.”

She sat back in her chair, giving him a disapproving look. “Gee, could you be any more conceited?”

“Don’t act like you don’t think I’m hot because I know you do.” He grabbed the mouse and changed her search criteria, putting in physical features that matched his. He didn’t care if he was annoying her. By now, she should be used to his pesky personality. “Let’s see who pops up.”

She turned away. “Do whatever you want, but I’m not interested.”

“Yeah, right.” He didn’t believe that for a second. Sooner or later, she would sneak a curious peek.

He delved into his task. There were a variety of donors with his body type, as well as hair, skin and eye coloring. Not all of them had pictures available. He focused on the ones who did.

While he searched, Sophie wolfed down two more cookies. She was still avoiding looking at the screen. It didn’t matter, anyway. He couldn’t find anyone who fit the bill.

“Never mind,” he said. “They’re all dorks.”

“Really?” She slanted him a sideways glance. “Every last one of them?”

He gestured to the monitor. “Take a gander for yourself.”

“All right, I will.” She settled back into place. “What about him?” She clicked on a candidate Tommy hadn’t given a second thought to—a guy with longish hair and a one-sided grin.

He scrutinized the picture, wondering what the hell she was thinking. “He doesn’t look like me.”

“His smile does. His hair would, too, if he cut it and styled it like yours.” She read the profile. “Oh, and get this? He performs in musical theater.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Oh, right. That’s all you need, for your baby to come out singing show tunes.”

She laughed. “Now who’s being a dork?”

“I’m serious, Soph. A son or daughter with his genes could turn you into a stage mom. And if you think touring with me is tough, just think of how grueling your kid’s Broadway ambitions are going to be. You need to steer clear of Mr. Musical Theater.”

She called him out. “You sound jealous.”

“Of that guy? My offspring would be way cooler than his.”

She gaped at him. “Youroffspring? I can’t believe you just said that.”

He hated that his chest had turned tight as he defended the remark. “I was just goofing around, trying to get your goat.”

“Well, knock it off.” Her voice quavered. Even her hands shook. “You’re supposed to be helping me find a donor, but you’re only making it harder.”

He’d never seen her so worked up. This baby thing was messing with her emotions. With his, too, dammit. “So take Mr. Musical Theater and be done with it.”

“I don’t want him.” She clicked away from the guy’s profile. “I don’t want anyone who has your smile. Or anything else that reminds me of you. I already...”

“You already what?” He prodded her to finish what she obviously didn’t want to say.

She pushed her hair away from her face. “Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

He wasn’t about to let up. His stubborn streak was stronger than hers. “You better tell me. If you don’t, I’m going to stay here day and night, bugging you for an answer.”

“Why can’t you just drop it?”

“Because I don’t like seeing you this way.” He wanted the old Sophie back, the woman who didn’t freak out about everything.

She fell silent, and he waited for her to respond. Communication had never been a problem for them before.

Finally, she grimaced and said, “Earlier, when I was at your house, I had this crazy notion about you being the donor. It actually crossed my mind.”

“Really?” He should have panicked, but somehow he didn’t. If anything, he felt weirdly, wonderfully flattered.

She squinted at him. “Don’t sit there looking so smug, not after telling me how cool your offspring would be.”

“Sorry.” He tried to seem less macho, even if he was still feeling his masculine oats. “I shouldn’t have pushed it that far, but you were right about me being jealous. I don’t like you searching for the perfect guy.” He shrugged, still playing down his machismo. “I’m honored that you thought of me, though.”