Читать книгу Surrogate and Wife - Emily McKay - Страница 9

Standing outside Jake’s apartment, waiting for him to answer the door, Kate was practically shaking in her boots. Or she would have been if she’d been wearing boots. As it was, she was merely shaking in her sensible, size-nine black pumps.

“Can we talk?” she blurted out when the door finally opened.

Jake stared at her blankly for a long moment.

Long enough for her to be reminded how handsome he was. How purely masculine. Of course, it didn’t help matters that he was bare-chested.

But the thing that really got to her, that actually made her heart stop beating for a second, was how the sheer size of him made her feel feminine. Delicate. Almost frail, even.

She was a solid five-nine, barefoot. No one made her feel delicate.

No one except Jake.

She didn’t like the feeling one bit. And she couldn’t help wishing that Beth and Stewart had picked some other man to be the donor. Someone who didn’t make her feel so distinctly at a disadvantage. Preferably someone who didn’t make her feel anything.

Someone who didn’t look as if he’d just tumbled out of bed.

“Oh, God,” she muttered, finally breaking the silence. “You’re not alone.” The naked chest, the disheveled hair, the sleepy stupor. She’d have put it all together sooner if she hadn’t been so distracted by the…well, the naked chest and disheveled hair. Mortification spread through her and she spun on her heel to leave. “I’ll come back another time. Or better yet, just forget I ever came here.”

But before she could make it even a few steps, he grabbed her by the arm.

“Oh, no, you don’t. You got me out of bed. You might as well say whatever it is you came here to say.”

“I…”

He pulled her into the apartment, not roughly, but with enough force to remind her—again—how much stronger he was. Toeing the door shut, he wheeled her around to face him.

“I, um…” she began again, only to have all thoughts evaporate the instant she realized how close she was to his bare chest.

“What’s wrong? You look…sick, or something.”

Or something, indeed. “I’m a little faint,” she lied, pulling her arm from his grasp. “I’ve been having dizzy spells lately.” Which wasn’t entirely untrue. He did make her head spin.

He reached for her arm again, carefully steering her to the nearby leather sofa. “You should sit. Can I get you something to drink? Water? No, wait, milk. Can I get you a glass of milk?”

Great. Here she was wrestling with this unexpected attraction to him, and he wanted to make sure she was properly hydrated. Just great.

“No, nothing. Look, I’m sorry I interrupted your…evening. I should have called first.”

“You didn’t interrupt anything. I was asleep.” He smiled wryly as he grabbed a flannel shirt that had been left dangling over the back of a chair. He slipped into the shirt, buttoning enough for modesty, but not enough to block the occasional glimpse of his muscles. “Alone.”

“Oh. I see.” Except she wasn’t sure she did. It was Friday night. And it was only nine-thirty.

He must have noticed her looking at her watch because he explained, “I have to be at the firehouse pretty early in the morning.”

“Oh. Then I’m sorry I—”

“Why don’t you stop apologizing and go back to the part where you said we need to talk.”

He lowered himself into the club chair beside the sofa. Again he seemed entirely too close.

“I…um…” The words caught in her throat, trapped there by a giggle rising to the surface. This was absurd, but so was the question she couldn’t see a way out of asking. So finally she just said, “Will you marry me?”

Jake froze, his expression blank for the second time this evening. Then shock registered, and his voice rose sharply as he asked, “What?”

“I need to get married.” Then she added in a rush, “And you did offer to help out with the pregnancy. You said you’d do anything you could.”

“I meant I’d help with your laundry. I didn’t think you’d want to get married.”

“You said you would help.”

“Sure, but married? You want to get married?”

“It’d be a marriage in name only,” she reassured him. “Just until after the baby is born. Maybe not even that long.”

“Let me see if I’ve got this right. Four days ago you didn’t even want me to do your grocery shopping, and now you want to get married?”

“Yes. Well, not exactly.” She frowned, trying to sort through the logic of her proposal. “See, here’s the thing. There’s a slight chance that if I have this baby out of wedlock, I’ll be fired.”

She watched his expression carefully, looking for any hint of his emotions, but he remained stoic. After several seconds he asked, “How slight?”

“Slight-ish.”

“Can you give it to me in a percentage?”

“Maybe forty…” She paused, then added honestly. “Ninety percent.”

For another several seconds, he stared at her, then he sprang to his feet and marched to the kitchen. She heard him open and close the refrigerator door. A minute later he reappeared with a bottle of beer, half of which was already gone, as if he’d had to take several fortifying gulps before facing her again.

He rested his shoulder against the doorway to the kitchen and leveled his gaze at her. “So there’s a ‘slight’ ninety percent chance you’ll get fired when you have this baby and you didn’t think to mention it until now?”

“I didn’t think it wasn’t an issue before Beth and Stew got pregnant.” As briefly as she could, she explained about Hatcher’s bid for a seat on the Texas Supreme Court and his moral-values campaign. “So you see, being a surrogate mother for your sister who can’t get pregnant could be considered noble. Claiming to be a surrogate for your sister who’s already noticeably more pregnant than you is definitely suspicious.”

He eyed her doubtfully. “You really think anyone will even notice that you and Beth are pregnant at the same time?”

“Yes, I do. Beth and Stew know a lot of people. Half the town shops in their health food store. Trust me, people are going to notice she’s pregnant.”

“So, you just have to explain the situation. Most people will believe you.”

She sighed. “You’re right, of course. Most people will. But Hatcher doesn’t have to convince ‘most people’ in order to get me fired.”

“Do you have some kind of morality clause or something in your contract?”

“I’m an associate district judge,” she explained. “We’re appointed by the district judges. We don’t have contracts.”

“This Judge Hatcher can just fire you on a whim? His decision doesn’t have to be based on your performance? That’s bull.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Even under the circumstances, she couldn’t help being a little amused by his vehement reaction. “Of course, it’s not his decision alone. There are eight district judges total. They’d have to vote on it. All Hatcher really has to do is call a press conference questioning my morality. A public outcry from a few concerned citizens would be enough. He only needs a simple majority to vote me out of office. That’s just four other people.”

“And you think he can convince them?”

“I think it’s possible. He doesn’t even have to convince them that what I’ve done is wrong. He just has to convince them that supporting me could risk their reputations. With reelections right around the corner, how many judges do you think will stand against him?”

Jake didn’t answer, but the clenching of his jaw muscle said it all. The situation pissed him off almost as much as it did her.

“He’ll have to convince the other district judges that I’m morally unfit to preside over a court of law, but—” she shrugged “—Williamson County is one of the most conservative counties in the state, maybe even the country. If there’s anywhere being labeled an unwed mother could cost me my job, it’s here.”

He didn’t argue with her, which only confirmed that she was right. The simple truth was that people held judges to a higher standard of behavior. And Kate, for one, expected no less.

“I still don’t see how our getting married will help things. You think people will notice that you and Beth are pregnant at the same time, but not notice six months from now when we get divorced and they adopt your child? You don’t think anyone will question your morality then?”

“That’s just it,” she countered. “By the time I have the baby in November, the elections will be over. Regardless of the outcome, Hatcher could no longer use me as a pawn in his or anyone else’s campaign.” She sensed she’d almost swayed him, so she added, “It’d only be until November.”

After a long moment of studying her, he shook his head ruefully. “Look, the situation sucks, but—”

She stood. “You said you would help.”

“I know I did, but—”

She crossed the room until she was standing right in front of him. “You said you would do anything you could to help out.”

“I know. And you said you didn’t trust me to stick around.”

“So prove me wrong.” She met his gaze head-on. As disturbing as it was to stare into his eyes at this range, she didn’t let herself blink.

“What makes you think I’ll make an even halfway decent husband?”

“I don’t need you to be a decent husband. I just need a ceremony and a ring.”

He chuckled. “Lowered your standards a bit, have you?”

“Don’t make this harder than it is.”

If possible, his smile broadened. Apparently whatever panic he’d initially felt had dissipated. “Why shouldn’t I? You certainly made my initial offer to help difficult.”

Only Jake could find humor in this situation. “I was surprised,” she said through gritted teeth. “That’s all.”

“‘Are you insane?’ I believe those were your words.”

Hearing him parrot her words back to her, she felt ashamed by how badly she’d treated him. Yet he didn’t seem hurt. Didn’t even seem angry. If anything, he seemed amused.

“Don’t you take anything seriously?” she asked, suddenly feeling peevish.

“Very little.”

“Not even insults to your mental stability?”

He just shrugged. “I’ve heard a lot worse than anything you can come up with, Katie.”

She spun on her heel, needing to put distance between them. “This is never going to work. You’re not the crazy one. I am.”

But before she could make a move, he was beside her, his hand on her shoulder, easing her back to her spot on the sofa. “Hey, calm down. I was just teasing.”

“Well, stop. This isn’t the time or the place. What we’re talking about is very serious.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so.” She desperately wanted to jump to her feet and pace. But doing so would probably mean being touched by him again. Since she wasn’t willing to risk that, she scooted to the far corner of the sofa, then crossed her legs to keep herself from tapping her foot. “If we’re going to do this, we need to be as businesslike about this as possible. We need rules. Boundaries.”

Shirts that buttoned all the way up, she thought, wisely keeping it to herself.

“Gee, you’re just suckin’ all the fun right out of this.”

If his amused expression was an indication, she hadn’t sucked any of the fun out of it for him.

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are. That’s what makes it so damn cute.”

“Cute?” She wasn’t cute. No one called her cute. She was a judge, for goodness’ sake. Judges weren’t cute. She was pretty sure that edict had been written into the Texas Constitution.

“Now, don’t get all huffy on me,” he said in his most placating tone.

“I am not getting huffy.”

“Sure you are.”

“No, I’m—” She sucked in a deep breath. “This is exactly why we need boundaries.”

“This?” he asked archly.

“This.” She waved her hand back and forth between them. “If any kind of arrangement between us is going to work, we can’t have this kind of flirtatious banter.”

He raised an eyebrow, studying her with obvious humor. “Flirtatious banter? So you think I’m flirting with you?”

Despite his teasing manner, there was a spark of intensity deep in his gaze that unsettled her even more than his flirting.

Boundaries, she reminded herself. Get back to setting boundaries.

“I think you’ll flirt with any woman within earshot.” He didn’t seem insulted by the observation. Or perhaps he just didn’t see it as an insult. “But I don’t want you to flirt with me. It would lend too much intimacy to the marriage.”

“‘Too much intimacy to the marriage.’ Now there’s a phrase you don’t hear very often.”

“And while we’re on the subject…” She felt her throat beginning to tighten, and paused just long enough to clear it. Discreetly, she hoped. “I’m sure you’ll agree there should be absolutely no…intimacy between us.”

His lips twitched as if he was barely containing his laughter. “No intimacy? You mean like no flirting? You already covered that.”

“No, I mean no intimacy.” She felt her cheeks begin to burn. Damn it, why should this discussion embarrass her? She was a grown woman, for goodness sake. “No physical intimacy.”

She’d forced herself to say the words without hesitating or stuttering. But she couldn’t force her mind not to stumble over the images automatically produced. The two of them together, lying naked in a tangle of sheets.

Her reaction surprised her. She didn’t want Jake Morgan. She couldn’t want him. Not in their present situation. Not ever.

The only thing that surprised her more than her reaction was the flash of corresponding heat she saw in his gaze.

In an instant it was gone. Replaced by a teasing twinkle in his eye and a cocksure grin on his lips.

“So you think I won’t be able to resist you? You think once we’re living together, we’ll both cave to temptation unless we set up all these rules beforehand?”

“Certainly not. It just seemed wise to— Wait a minute, what do you mean once we’re living together?”

“Well, there’s no point in us getting married if people aren’t going to see us living together, right? I was thinking your place, ’cause I assume it’s bigger, but if you want to bunk down here, be my guest. But I’ve got to warn you, in your condition, I don’t really think you should be sleeping on the sofa, and there’s only one bed. I may be willing to give up my social life for this, but I’m not willing to give up my bed.”

Her mind reeled as he babbled on about the comforts of his bed. He wanted them to live together? How could she possibly maintain her equilibrium—her emotional distance—with him living under her roof?

“No. Absolutely not.” She shook her head, hoping she sounded very judicial, hoping her tone brooked no argument. “Cohabitation has disaster written all over it.”

Either he didn’t pick up on her no-one-argues-with-the-judge attitude, or he just didn’t care. Because he said, just as firmly, “No, if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right. If we’re legally married, but don’t live together, that’s way too suspicious. Hatcher—or someone else—will figure out something’s wrong.”

“You’re right, of course.” She sighed with resignation. “So what now?”

“We’ll need to have a real ceremony,” he said. It doesn’t have to be in a church if you don’t want it to, but we’ll both have to invite some friends. Preferably friends from work, so that plenty of people will know. We’ll need a story for how we met and why we’re getting married so quickly. We can mention the baby if you want, but we don’t want it to look like that’s the only reason we’re getting married.”

“Not the only reason? You can’t expect people to believe we’re actually in love.”

“That’s exactly what I expect them to believe. For this to work, we need to make people believe it.”