Читать книгу The Pregnant Virgin - Anne Eames, Anne Eames - Страница 9

It was ten to one when Ali tossed her purse into her desk drawer and eagerly opened her novel. She tucked the book safely from view behind the tall countertop and continued where she had left off.

She knew tonight would be the night. A fire crackled in the open hearth; candles flickered on every surface. He lifted his champagne flute to hers.

“To the love of my life,” he said, his eyes burning as bright as the fire, his gaze so intense she felt weak with love and desire.

He set his glass down and took her in his arms, his eyes riveted on her mouth, his lips inching closer until—

“Darling,” Ali heard, still in a daze.

“Yes-ss,” she drawled, her eyes hooded as she slowly lifted her head.

“Brad Darling? I have an appointment?”

Ali stared at the handsome face, stunned for a moment to see the one and same man she’d been ogling in the cafeteria.

“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.

Ali watched as he began to read a stack of papers he’d brought with him, apparently not noticing her. Ali ducked behind Michelle and picked up her water glass, wishing again that maintenance would do something about the air. It was stifling.

“—so that’s why I looked for a fantasy man.”

Ali looked at Michelle, hoping she hadn’t missed much. “Fantasy man?”

Michelle laughed and pushed away her plate. “It sounds pathetic, but every store I went into I looked at picture frames hoping to find just the right model’s face behind the glass—someone who could seem real to me—the kind of man I’d be attracted to and go out with if given the chance.”

“Did you ever find one?”

Michelle smiled. “Not in a picture frame. I met Kevin on a cruise—one that left the same day I was inseminated. And as they say, the rest is history.”

Ali peeked around Michelle and caught “Darling” Brad staring at her, those damnable blue eyes boring into her, and she felt a pink tinge travel up her neck. He didn’t smile or acknowledge her in any way. Maybe he was trying to remember where he’d seen her before. Or maybe he knew exactly where and that was the problem.

“Ali? Are you okay?”

“Uh…sure. Fine.” She waved her hand in front of her face. “Just off in la-la land. I do that sometimes.”

“Overactive imagination?”

“Something like that.”

“Was that all you wanted to ask me?”

Was there anything else? Only one thing came to mind.

“I don’t mean to sound like a wuss, but did it hurt?”

“More than I had anticipated, but not too bad…and it’s over rather fast. A lot faster than the other end of the process, believe me. I’m sure you’ll hear enough of those stories when your time comes.”

When her time came. Not if. Michelle believed it would happen. Ali hoped she was right and that her sisters’ problems wouldn’t plague her, too. Over Michelle’s shoulder she saw Blue Eyes leave the room, papers under his arm, empty tray in front of him. He had a confident yet not cocky gait, and again she noticed his narrow waist, long, lean legs and sinewy arms. And he had to be smarter than the average bear in his profession. Good genes, she thought. What more could she hope for?

“Do you have a time table in mind?”

He disappeared around the corner and Ali gave Michelle her full attention. She hadn’t even told her sisters this, but Michelle had been so forthright it seemed okay to do. Besides, she’d been dying to tell someone. Who better than a trusted friend who’d been there?

Still she felt herself blush when she said, “Actually…any day now.”

Michelle reached for her hand and squeezed it. “That’s wonderful, Ali. I wish you luck. I know this is a very private matter for you, but if you ever want to talk again, I’m more than willing to meet you anytime. Just call.”

“Thank you. I will.” It was good to talk with someone outside the family who didn’t see her as a child. Even though Michelle was closer to Lynne and Barbara’s ages, she had never treated Ali as anything other than a peer.

They walked slowly to the tray deposit area and Ali was tempted to tell Michelle more—how she thought she had found the perfect fantasy father. But in the end she decided some things were better kept to one’s self.

After work, in the privacy of her apartment, Ali went to her desk and found the long list of potential donors from the Midwest data bank. Retrieving her planner from her purse, she flipped to the memo section and read Brad’s file number that she had jotted down at work. With fingers trembling she scanned the donor pages, searching for the unique number. On page five she found it. Next to it read: five-foot ten inches, 175 pounds, blue eyes—oh, yes, very blue eyes, she remembered—and black hair. Field of work: medicine.

Before she could change her mind, she raced into the kitchen and dialed the cross-town clinic. When the secretary answered the phone, Ali read her selection in a shaky voice and said to expect her later in the week, probably Thursday or Friday. She was assured all would be ready and waiting.

But it wasn’t until Saturday morning, the day of the football game, that Ali discovered the time was right. She’d tested herself twice and come up with the same results both times: she was finally ovulating. Fortunately it was only 6:00 a.m. The clinic opened at seven. There was still time to make the game if she hurried. She called and said she was on her way.

Traffic was light as she drove I75 north to Royal Oak and she was making good time. Her stomach grumbled from lack of food, but there was no way she could eat. Her heart felt as though it were racing to keep up with the speedometer.

Finally she pulled into the clinic’s parking lot, took a few calming breaths and ran through everything again—family history of fertility problems, good men were hard to find, nothing wrong with wanting a face for the baby’s father. She lingered on the last one. Michelle had felt the same way, so this wasn’t unusual. And it wasn’t as if she planned to hold the guy up for child support or anything. She didn’t want a thing from him. Just a real person behind the sterile vial.

Lastly she thought about child care. She could ask her sisters for help if she wanted to return to work, or if she didn’t, thankfully the income from her wise investments was large enough so she could stay home and be a full-time mom. The latter sounded most appealing. She closed her eyes and imagined the soft skin of her baby’s cheek against her neck, the fresh scent of baby powder…and the beautiful sky-blue eyes of the father.

Yes, this was the right thing to do. Today was the day.