Читать книгу Who Will Father My Baby? - Donna Clayton, Donna Clayton - Страница 11

The steak had been grilled to perfection. The baked potato was light and fluffy, drizzled with the perfect amount of rich butter. The salad was crisp and cool, the homemade balsamic vinaigrette making it utterly…perfect.

And so was Dane Buchanan. Just as perfect as she had recalled him being.

During her drive to Oak Flat, Lacy had worried that her memory of the man might somehow have been glorified by the passing years, that she’d made him larger than life in her mind. But she’d discovered over dinner that he was as honest, intelligent, hardworking and down-to-earth as she remembered. And there simply wasn’t a more perfect physical specimen of a man to be found, she was sure.

His face was leaner, more honed than she remembered. The smile lines bracketing his mouth, fanning out from his eyes, gave him a remarkable appeal even her wildest imaginings had failed to conjure. His thick thatch of coal-black hair was shiny and Lacy found herself wanting to comb her fingers through the hints of silver at his temples. The years had transformed him physically into quite a man. Quite a man, indeed.

But what hadn’t changed one iota were his eyes. She’d been fascinated by his smoky-gray gaze twenty years ago. Enthralled by the curiosity that had danced there, the vigorous light that flashed and caught her up in the energy that had seemed to pulse from him back then.

Those sooty orbs still ignited with uncontainable liveliness as she coerced him to tell her about his day-to-day life breeding and raising Angus cattle. He had a wonderful way of expressing the joy he found in what seemed the most mundane of chores. And she found herself just as swept away by him, just as mesmerized by his joie de vivre now as she had been when they’d attended college together. She listened in wonder as he described the spring calving season and all the sleepless anxiety and miracle of new life that came with it. And summer hay cultivation had kept him busy from sunup to sundown until just recently. He made the mowing, raking and baling sound almost fun, although she imagined it had to be hot, rigorous work.

A couple of times he’d tried to inquire about the reason behind her arrival, but she’d successfully parried his questions. She wasn’t quite ready to blurt out her motivation for coming to see him. Not just yet.

Not only did she feel unprepared, but she also continued to be overwhelmed with desperation. The feeling kept rolling over her in a wavelike fashion. The anxiety welling in her brought a dread she wasn’t used to. She was a successful businesswoman. And she hadn’t gotten that way feeling apprehensive or fearful. She’d landed at the top by identifying terrific opportunities when they presented themselves…and by taking full advantage of those opportunities.

Dane Buchanan was the opportunity of a lifetime, in her estimation. But she couldn’t allow this chance to slip from her grasp by shocking him with her request too soon. She needed to ease into this. Garnering his trust, renewing their friendship, had to come first. She had every intention of doing this right.

The other men she’d approached about fathering a child for her had been people she had known as friends, or through friends or her business. And those associations had helped her to make her plea, given her an opening, a place to start. But the connection she had with Dane was twenty years old. And she didn’t even know how well he remembered their times together. How would the poor man react to having some stranger from his past marching into his home out of the blue, asking him for a sample of his sperm?

If she couldn’t fathom the scenario herself, how in the world would he?

She needed to take her time. Ease into this.

However, the words that would incite his sympathy in her plight as well as obtain his help had better come to her. Fast. Because, her mind warned, you don’t have a whole lot in the way of time. You can only stall the man for so long.

And as proof that the thought was nothing but dead on, he chose that moment to lean toward her, level a direct gaze on her face and ask, “So what was it that made you look me up after all these years, Lacy?”

Renewed panic swelled inside her. Frantically, she did what she could to tamp it down. But she could do nothing to quell the deep maternal yearning that plagued her soul. Her success here was more important to her than any business venture she’d ever strived for, any success she’d ever achieved.

Lacy literally blanched at the thought. She knew how intense, how terribly profound, her longing was to become a mother…to birth, to hold, to care for, to raise, to love a child of her own. She’d described it to her friends as being marrow-deep. But the fear pulsing through her at this moment, the chill the thought of failure brought, made her recognize that filling this hole in her, satisfying her mothering instinct, was more important than anything she’d ever needed or done or accomplished in her whole life. In that instant, she realized she’d never be complete without a child.

She also realized the extreme anguish she faced…if Dane were to refuse her request.

His gray gaze had darkened with concern as he reached across the table, his work-roughened palm warm, almost comforting, as it slid over top her hand.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “You’ve gone quite pale.”

The physical contact made her blink, and she forced her eyes to remain open as she battled the wave upon wave of energy that coursed up her arm—over every inch of her skin—as her body reacted to his touch.

Her lips were cottony dry, and she moistened them. She had no idea how long she’d been silent…or how long she’d been wrapped up in her own desperation.

“I’m all right.” She picked up her glass of water, noticing the slight tremble of her fingers, and took a gulp. “You must think I’m crazy,” she said after setting down the glass. “Coming here unannounced. After so much time.”

“I don’t think that at all.” He relaxed against the back of the kitchen chair. “I will admit to being curious. I mean, it has been a lot of years.”

She paused a moment, her mind going completely blank. How could she ever explain herself to him? He was going to hear what she had in mind, and he’d go screaming and running into the night. When they had sat down at the table to eat, rain had begun to ping against the kitchen windowpane, but Lacy doubted the weather would stop the man from fleeing the situation should he decide to do so.

Dane was sure to react adversely to her idea. All the other men had, hadn’t they?

She wanted to give herself a swift kick. She wouldn’t get anywhere thinking such negative thoughts.

With her eyes glued to the window, she murmured, “You see, I’ve been searching for the perfect man—”

His loud groan cut her words to the quick.

“You’re not a journalist, are you?” he asked, suspicion varnishing his tone until it was sharp and burnished. “Twice over the years, I’ve had reporters hunt me down about that stupid article that was written about me during college. And I don’t mind telling you, both times I’ve refused to be interviewed.”

The subject of their conversation had twisted out of shape so suddenly that Lacy was taken off guard.

“No,” she assured him. “I’m not here to do a story on you.”

He looked visibly relieved. “That whole thing was such a crock. I can’t believe that idiot reporter printed that story back then.” Almost to himself, he said, “That silly article nearly kept Helen from marrying me.”

“Well, I thought it was a wonderful article,” Lacy told him. She couldn’t have stopped the words from tumbling off her tongue even if she’d wanted to. “Very flattering.”

“Too flattering,” he spat out. “The adulation was so overdone that the whole piece bordered on obsequious. It was downright obnoxious with its sugary depiction of me and my life. If I’d have been diabetic, I’d have gone into insulin shock.”

The venom that oozed from his words, his expression, his whole body stance, took her completely by surprise. Although she couldn’t say why, his strong reaction annoyed her.

“But it was all true, wasn’t it?” She blurted out the question, sure that she knew the answer already. “Every fact in that article was correct.”

He refused to relent. “Come on, Lacy. The Perfect Man? No one is perfect. Especially me.” His face screwed up as if he’d bit into something bitter. “The whole mess made me look damn pompous. I was relieved that the magazine hit the stands so late in the school year. I was never so glad to be away from a place as I was that university. That town. I’m not a conceited person, Lacy. And I hated being made to look like one.”

She fingered the linen napkin draped across her lap. “It never dawned on me that you might feel that way about it. In fact, all these years I never imagined that you’d be anything but proud of the title.”

Dane shook his head. “You have no idea how that title nearly ruined all my plans.”

As soon as Lacy heard the statement, she remembered how, when she’d made her final blatant attempt to encourage him to ask her out, he’d stressed to her his intent to carry out a certain plan he had for his life. She’d wondered about it at the time, but he’d kept his statements vague and she never did discover exactly what that plan involved.

“I arrived home after graduation,” he continued, “to find my fiancée waving that magazine at me and insisting that our getting married was a mistake. It took me six months to convince Helen otherwise.” Under his breath he added, “I’ve never been a violent man, but if that reporter had been within reach, I’d have beaten the daylights out of him more than once.”

“You were engaged back then?” Surprise was evident in her tone, and she was terribly relieved that it masked the hurt that welled up in her.

His gray eyes averted from her face as he nodded silently, awkwardness seeming to settle on his broad shoulders.

The news was like a bolt from the blue—a bolt that burned and ripped at the very heart of her. “When you took me out? When we…”

Kissed was the word teetering on her tongue, but it petered out before actually forming. She felt stunned. Wounded.

“No.” His answer was emphatic, his gaze conveying a steeling assurance as he shook his head. “Not when I took you out. But directly after.”

For a moment, he looked as if he had more to say on the subject. But the moment passed, and he remained silent.

She remembered his disappearance after their date, surmised that this had been the time when their paths had veered from one another. What she’d wanted to do was ask, once he’d returned to campus, why he hadn’t told her that he’d been spoken for. That he was in love with another woman. No wonder he hadn’t nibbled any of the bait she’d tossed out at him. He’d been a fish that had already been caught. She felt embarrassed by the way she’d practically thrown herself at him all those years ago.

His words sunk into the chaos of her thoughts. It took me six months to convince Helen….

Why a man like Dane Buchanan would have to convince a woman to marry him was beyond Lacy.

“So we’ve ruled out the profession of writer,” he said, reaching up to lazily scratch a spot on his chin. “What do you do for a living? You were such a go-getter, I knew you’d reach the top of whatever ladder you chose to climb.”

She thanked her lucky stars that he seemed to have forgotten his original question regarding the purpose behind her showing up on his doorstep. Being no fool, she jumped on his question with both feet.

“I own an Internet consulting business,” she told him. “Lacy Webs. We snare customers for you.” She grinned as she recited the familiar words. “Our jingle. And, of course, our logo depicts a tiny spider in a frilly web.”

He nodded, his eyes lighting with sincere interest.

“I worked for a computer firm for a few years. Then, I started building Internet sites for friends on the World Wide Web.” She reached up and toyed with her small diamond stud earring. Finally, she shrugged. “My business just took off. Before I knew it, I had landed my first corporate account. My parttime, ‘for fun’ job turned into an instant career. I create commercial sites. For businesses offering services or selling merchandise online. Bank sites have sort of become my specialty. Although I’ve had my fingers in everything—hospitals, universities, retail chains. You name it.” Her smile brimmed with satisfaction. “I’ve got more clients than I can handle, and I’ve been forced to increase my staff every year for the past five years. It’s been great.”

“Well, that’s wonderful,” he said, his words soft and genuine. “Like I said, I knew you’d go far. In whatever field you chose. I just knew it.”

His praise made her flush with delight.

The reaction was funny, really. As well as surprising. She’d never felt the need for someone else’s approval or admiration. Knowing her business was a success, and that she’d walked every step of the way on her own, that had always been enough for her. It might be silly, but hearing his good opinion of her made her feel, well, it made her feel…worthy.

The commendation he gave her not only felt nice, it revealed something to her as well. He’d thought about her. Maybe not often, but she’d been on his mind enough for him to decide these things about her. That idea thrilled the dickens out of her!

She didn’t have time to stop and wonder why.

His slate eyes twinkled merrily as he leaned toward her again. “So, you never said what it was that made you think of me after nearly twenty years.”

“I didn’t, did I?” There it was again. That whirlwind of nerves churning in her belly. “W-well,” she began, “as I said, I—I was looking for the perfect man…”

His handsome face pinched with something akin to physical pain. “And I already told you, he doesn’t exist.”

Emitting a weak laugh, she had to admit, “When I began my search for him, you hadn’t yet come to mind, actually.”

He looked surprised. As well as put in his place. She hadn’t meant the remark in that vein, but he’d taken it that way just the same, she could tell.

“You see…” She reached up and smoothed her thumb over the shiny handle of the spoon sitting by her plate. “I’m working on…well, on this project. And I’ve been hunting for the perfect man…to…um, help me…reach my goal.”

Dane remained silent and still, just waiting, and listening as she haltingly stuttered through her explanation. The intensity of his focus made her all the more nervous.

“I’d gone through every single male on my list,” she continued. “And I was feeling pretty frustrated, too.” Her chuckle was dusty dry. “It was kind of funny, really, how I finally came to the conclusion that you might be able to help me. I’d been thinking about you—”

And having these incredible dreams about you. But she didn’t dare reveal that bit of information.

“—more and more often lately. And when Sharon…she’s my assistant…suggested that surely there was a perfect man out there to fa—” she caught herself in the nick of time, changing the word slightly “—f-for my project. Those words…the perfect man…finally helped me to connect my subconscious thoughts of you with…well, with a possible answer to…th-this project I’m working on.”

From his expression, it was clear he wasn’t feeling much more enlightened than he’d been a moment before. Why would he be when her clarification had been so darned convoluted and muddled?

“Lacy, I hate to tell you this, but I don’t know squat about the Internet.” He shook his head. “I do have a computer. To keep the accounting records straight. But I’ve never logged on to the Internet, let alone surfed it, so I don’t know how I could be of any help to you—”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with the Internet, or computers for that matter.” She stopped long enough to moisten her lips. “It has nothing to do with my business at all.” Adrenaline surged through her. Unwittingly, her chin dipped, and without even realizing it, she gazed up at him quite timidly. “Dane, th-this is…this is—” her throat convulsed in a swallow “—well, it’s personal.”

He watched her even more closely now. Then, without a word, he placed his elbows on the table, rested his chin on his laced fingers. It was a sign, she was sure. His way of indicating that he was paying strict attention to what she was about to say.

Thunder rumbled across the sky overhead. The rain beat harder against the glass. Lacy took those as signs, too. Ominous ones.

“There’s no other way to say this,” she began, “other than just…spitting it out.” Anxiety prickled over her skin like a thorn-encrusted sweater, thoroughly flushing her with an uncomfortable heat.

This case of uncontrollable nerves was overwhelming as well as frustrating. She knew in her heart she wasn’t a shy woman. She was bold. She was daring. Confident. But so much was riding on his reaction to the request she was about to make. He could so easily dash all her hopes with one small no.

But she wouldn’t receive an answer, negative or affirmative, if she didn’t explain her need to him. Pressing her lips together, she took a careful breath. She swallowed. And then she forced herself to reveal, “I want a baby.”

Clearly, he tried to control his reaction. But she saw his spine stiffen, his eyes widen the merest fraction. A dozen different thoughts were crashing around in his head. She could see that by the astonishment raging in his eyes. He looked as though he was about to speak. But in the end he didn’t. His forehead puckered and his head gave a slow, almost imperceptible shake.

“It’s an overwhelming idea, I know.”

“Overwhelming.” He repeated the word, gazing off into a far corner of the room. When his gray eyes found her again, they were clouded with a myriad of thoughts and emotions. “Lacy, let me get this straight. You’re asking me—”

“To father my child,” she finished for him.

His chest deflated as he exhaled. His dark head shook yet again. “I know I’m not stupid. I guessed your meaning immediately, but having it spelled out doesn’t make it any more believable, Lacy. Or understandable.” His face expressed a mixture of shock and bewilderment. His shoulders lifted as he said, “I have to ask. Why me?”

“Because you’re—”

Perfect, she’d nearly said. But she stopped herself, knowing now how much he had detested the description when it had been used years ago.

“—right.” She left it at that. She whispered, “You’re also my last chance.”

“Oh, now…” He shoved his way out of the chair and paced to the counter, where he turned and stared at her. “Don’t do that. Don’t use guilt. That’s not right. Or fair. I haven’t seen you in—”

“I know. I know.” She lifted her hand, palm out, hoping to appease him. Putting him on the defensive would do nothing to help her cause. “I was wrong to say that. I’m sorry.”

His arms crossed protectively over his chest, his shoulders seemed to tighten, his whole body seemed to shrink from her. From the whole idea she was asking him to consider.

“This is crazy. Total lunacy.”

She didn’t know if he was speaking the words to her or to himself, so softly were they uttered.

“Dane, I’m thirty-eight,” she explained. “Time is running out for me. My biological clock is ticking away. I’m surprised you can’t hear it from where you’re standing. Lord knows, I can hear it. Every moment of every day. My chances of having a healthy baby are dwindling with each month that passes.”

She could practically see the thoughts spinning in his mind.

Suddenly he blurted, “You’re a beautiful woman. Obviously successful. Why aren’t you married?” His gaze narrowed suddenly. “You do like men, don’t you? I mean, you prefer them?”

Lacy nearly laughed at his insinuation. But she didn’t dare. She was certain he found nothing even remotely funny about this situation. Come to think of it, neither did she.

“Yes, Dane,” she answered him quietly. “I like men. I prefer them.”

“So—” his hands flew up in the air and his tone rose “—why aren’t you married? Why aren’t you going about this in the regular, normal manner?”

She sighed. Hadn’t she been asked this same question over and over?

“I was married,” she quietly admitted. “It didn’t work out. Richard and I…”

She let the sentence trail. Dane wasn’t interested in what had happened between her and her husband. He was only interested in an answer to his question.

“I’d have loved to go about this in the conventional way.” She paused, the wistfulness in her tone startling her. However, she was too intent on explaining her circumstance to dwell on what it might mean.

She continued, “But that just didn’t happen for me.” As an aside, she softly offered, “To tell you the honest truth, I think my success has a lot to do with the way I’ve been forced to go about this.”

Before she could say more, he blurted, “Lacy, you don’t even know me. Nearly twenty years have gone by since we went to college together. Twenty years! How do you know I haven’t turned out to be a bad person? Why, for all you know, I could be a violent drunk. A brute. A derelict. Or a—”

“But you’re not,” she cut him off. “Are you? You’re none of those things. You’re an honest, hardworking man. When we were acquainted in college, I knew you were intelligent, you were talented, you were energetic. A high achiever. I felt, then, that you could have reached the moon, if that’s what you decided you wanted to do.” Stubbornly, she tipped up her chin. “And just as leopards don’t change their spots, a man’s DNA doesn’t change, either.”

Her bravado had returned. The realization made her nearly giddy with joy and relief. That odd bout of shyness may have hindered her for a while, may have made raising the issue a little more difficult, but now that the topic was out in the open her fighting instincts had better rise to the surface or she was going to come away from this empty-handed.

Empty-handed. Glancing down at her bare and vacant arms, she was deluged with desperation at the thought of never holding a sweet baby. But she pushed the anxiety aside. Now wasn’t the time for hopelessness. Now was the time for ultimate persuasion.

“Those great traits I knew you had—” she looked him directly in the eyes “—the traits I know you still have…I want them. For my child.”

She refused to act apologetic about what she would like for her son or daughter. Who didn’t want a child who was creative and smart and talented and ambitious? Surely he would understand her feelings.

“But, but…” Obviously agitated, he turned away from her, raking his fingers through his hair. Then he faced her again, total incomprehension plain in his eyes. “How can you ask this of a total stranger?”

She sat for a moment, wanting—no, willing—the quiet, the stillness, to become noticeable. She must make him understand her feelings. The importance of this had to be made undeniably clear.

The seconds ticked by, but she didn’t take her gaze from his. Finally, she unashamedly admitted, “Because I’m that desperate.”