The Baby Bargain

“I like you,” he said finally. “Your coworkers like you. I’d go so far as to say they respect your opinion. That says something.”

“And did you charm one of my respectful coworkers into giving you my address?”

“Not at all. I charmed one of them into letting me look at the company files.”

Surprised by his honesty, she let herself relax. “You’re unrepentant.”

“I’m determined. I’d like to talk to you about my plan for the Children’s Connection campaign.”

“Isn’t it the same one you showed us in the meeting?” She covered her mouth. “I apologize. I didn’t mean for that to sound rude. I just mean I already saw it, and I…”

“Don’t like it. Right.”

When her cheeks reddened, he nodded and set his glass on the table between them. “This is why I want to talk to you again. I like you. I don’t want you to say something you’ll feel awful about. You see, I have a theory. You don’t like my ideas…yet. But you do like me. And right now you’re thinking to yourself, ‘Eden, just give the guy a chance.’” He leaned toward her, smiling. “Am I right or am I right?”

Chapter Three

Eden felt a little moustache of nervous perspiration break out above her upper lip. Damn, he was good. And, she had to admit that when he leaned forward like that, his gaze focused as if she were the only person in the world, it was easy to forget he was here for one reason and one reason only: to make his own life easier by persuading her to support him.

“Actually,” she demurred, shooting him an apologetic look, “I feel bad any time I have to tell a potentially hurtful truth. Why, once, I saw a neighbor’s big old tomcat chasing a sweet little marmalade tabby and it was not the first time, let me tell you. I marched right across the street and knocked on that neighbor’s door and said, ‘Ma’am, your tomcat is behaving like the neighborhood bully. You’d better put a stop to it at once or he won’t have any friends at all.’ I felt awful then, too, but it had to be said.”

Finished, she sat back, a butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth smile on her face. To his credit, LJ’s eyes sparked in appreciation. He nodded. “Well, it was just a theory.” Speaking more sincerely, he said, “I’m a public relations and marketing expert, Eden. I know what I’m doing. I can put the Children’s Connection back in the community’s good graces. And I can do it quickly. But it’s going to be more difficult if one of the organization’s favorite employees bad-mouths my ideas.”

Modest, too, she thought wryly. “I don’t doubt you know more about ad campaigns and promotions than I do, Mr. Logan.”

“LJ.”

“But I know about prospective parents. I won’t restate all my objections to your approach, except to say again, since you’re here, that I don’t think we can establish credibility by looking as if we don’t understand or are afraid to acknowledge reality. By that, I mean the reality of our troubles at the Connection and the reality of being a parent. Especially a single parent.”

“I see.” He mulled her words over. When he spoke again, she had to admit he didn’t sound defensive at all. “Putting aside the problems at the Children’s Connection for a moment,” he said, “let’s talk about the second part of your objection. You think my commercial showed disregard for the rigors of parenting by making life seem good, enjoyable. Do you enjoy your life, Eden?”

“Of course I do. That’s not the point.”

“How long have you been a single parent?”

“As long as I’ve been a mother, Mr. Logan.”

“LJ.”

“And, I work with mothers-to-be every day. When I say they don’t want to be fed a lot of hearts-and-flowers malarkey, I know what I’m talking about.” Because that sounded harsh, she added, “If you don’t mind my saying so.”

“Not a bit.” A beat passed. “Did you become a single parent intentionally or did Liam’s father leave?”

Eden simply stared at her visitor. She might live in the Northwest now, but she’d been born in the South, where that question would surely be considered too personal. “I’m terribly sorry, but that information is not your business, Mr. Logan—”

“LJ—”

“Mr. Logan. Because after all, I barely know you.”

“Hmm. That’s true.” He let a frown crease his handsome face. “On the other hand, you thought you knew me well enough this afternoon to discredit my work.” He tilted his head, thinking, then decided aloud, “Yep. I earned the right to at least one personal question.”

He managed to engender a perfectly nasty coil of guilt that zinged through her middle.

She gave him the slit-eyed look that worked great on Liberty’s cat when it looked as if it was going to jump onto the dining table, a place it had no business going. “I don’t like the way you worked that out. This afternoon was not personal. At all. I know the needs of our clients, because I understand their concerns. I was speaking from that vantage point.”

Uncrossing his considerably long legs, LJ Logan planted his expensively shod feet squarely on her porch and rested his elbows on his knees. “Want to know what my vantage point is? Are you interested in my motivation?”

His voice remained low and almost melodious, but challenge lit his blue eyes. He was intelligent, energetic. Opinionated. But perhaps not as arrogant as she’d believed earlier. Perhaps. As they locked gazes, she was fairly certain she saw a request in his eyes, rather than a demand.

“Yes, I’m interested in your motivation.”

A flicker of surprise yielded to a smile. “I don’t believe in resting on my laurels, Eden. I study the most current research in my field, and it tells me consumers—people— give their trust and their money to the businesses they believe will make them feel good. Doesn’t matter what kind of business we’re talking about. Everyone wants someone to make his or her choices, his or her life easier. Yes, the woman in the commercial looked happy, healthy—”

“With a great hairdresser.”

“She looked good, because advertising works when it makes the consumer believe you have what they want.”

“Studies tell you this?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I don’t know about your studies. I’m a doula. I coach women through labor and I run the new single moms’ group at the Children’s Connection. The women I work with are worried about fluctuating hormones and how to find trustworthy, affordable child care on a single person’s income. They’re mighty concerned about having to go back to work on four hours of sleep a night. Their challenges will not be appeased by a thirty-second sound bite, and I would hate to have them assume we don’t understand their struggles. Or that we think their journeys will be smooth sailing once they choose our clinic. That’s a lie.”

The edge of LJ’s smile twitched with the effort to maintain it. “I’m not suggesting we lie to anyone. But we’re not going to draw new clients to the Children’s Connection by enumerating all the gory details of parenthood.”

The gory details?

Why hadn’t the Logans hired someone who understood the desire for children? Someone who valued family? LJ’s blood connection to the other Logans was not reason enough to put all their fates—those of their past, current and future clients, too—into his hands.

“I was drawn by the center’s forthrightness,” she told him. “Even forthrightness about the mistakes that have been made.”

“Kidnappings? Mix-ups in the sperm bank? Rumors of a black-market baby ring?” Emphatically, he shook his head. “The public doesn’t need to be reminded about those matters. They’re thinking about them already. That’s why I’m here—to make them think about something else.”

“The Children’s Connection took responsibility wherever they were culpable. The way to calm doubts is to address allegations, not gloss over them.”

They both sat on the edge of their seats now leaning over their legs. Eden enjoyed the opportunity to say exactly what she thought to this supremely confident businessman. He didn’t seem to mind mixing it up with her, either.

“Fine. I understand your point of view, Eden, but—and I don’t mean this in a condescending way—you’re an employee who uses the day care center. The need for additional comfort and positive imaging will be far greater for single women who come to the center to find…” He frowned, losing momentum as he searched for a word. “When they need, uhh…”

Eden frowned, not knowing at first what LJ was trying to say. “Single women who need…?” She shook her head.

And then she understood.

“Oh, my God. Sperm?” She started to smile. “Are you trying to say ‘sperm’? ‘A single woman who comes to the center to find a sperm donor’? It’s okay. I know that word.”

“Obviously.” Handsomely flushing because he hadn’t said it, LJ straightened then leaned back in the chair. “You won’t tell me how long you’ve been single, you refuse to use my first name, but you can say ‘sperm’ three times in two sentences?”

Eden tilted her head, pondering the thought. “It is ironic, isn’t it?” She picked up her glass and swirled the iced tea. “Then again, I do work in a clinic that offers alternative insemination. A man’s contributions to the process isn’t something we romanticize.”