Читать книгу Nashville Rebel - Sheri WhiteFeather - Страница 10
ОглавлениеTommy 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. “Your offspring? 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.”
She got up and strode to the other side of the room. “It was the most insane idea I’ve ever had.” She stopped and sent him a dubious look. “You’re not thinking it could be possible between us, are you?”
“I don’t know.” His mind was whirring, the gears spinning inside his head.
She stood near a bookcase packed with Western novels her dad used to read. Suddenly, she seemed so small and lost—a woman alone, missing her family.
“It’ll be okay, Soph,” he said.
She glanced up. “What will?”
“You finding the right donor and having the baby you want.” Tommy considered the possibility of getting involved. Could he become her donor for real? Since he was on the road more than he was home, he would rarely see her or the child. That would make things easier for all of them, he supposed, with her being the sole parent. But he needed to be sure that the rules wouldn’t change on down the line, that she would never ask more of him than he was capable of giving. “Let’s say for the sake of argument that you did use me. Would it be a permanent agreement, with no expectations or daddy duties from me?”
“Yes, but you being the donor isn’t going to happen. So why are we even talking about it?”
Flooded with feelings he couldn’t deny, he went over to her. “Maybe it’s supposed to be me. Maybe I’m the guy who’s meant to do it.”
She looked shocked. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Yes, I do.” He knew exactly the direction he was taking, and somewhere deep inside, it felt right. “You’ve always been there when I needed you, working day and night, devoting yourself to my career. And as much as I’m going to miss you managing my tours and being on the road with me, it would be nice to know that I participated in making your baby dreams come true.”
She looked as if she might cry. “That’s really nice, Tommy, but you’re making me feel vulnerable right now.” She backed away from him. “And I have to keep my wits about me.”
Had he already lost his? Offering himself up like that? His heart was beating triple time.
“Do you even know what being a donor entails?” she asked.
He gestured to the monitor, which had gone black. “I know as much as the guys on those websites do.”
“But this is different. We’re not strangers. In our case, there would be a lot more to consider, particularly with how entwined our lives are. I understand that you aren’t interested in playing an active role as the father. I’m good with that, too. I want to be a solo mom. But would we tell the child who you are at some point? Or would you prefer to be completely anonymous, with no one ever knowing it was you?” She set her mouth in a grim line. “I couldn’t make those types of decisions for you.”
“And I can’t make them on the spot.” He understood there was a lot at stake, legal and emotional issues that could impact the future. He wasn’t taking this lightly. “I need time to mull over the details, and once I’ve thought them through, we can discuss it further.”
“It’s just all so much.” She seemed scared, uncertain if he could handle it.
He encouraged her to give him a chance. “Why don’t we sleep on it tonight, and in the morning, we can both see how we feel?”
“Okay.” She backed herself against the bookcase. “There’s no harm in that, I guess.”
He didn’t move forward or invade her space. He kept a formal distance, even if he ached to press his body against hers. “I am sure of one thing. If I’m your donor, I don’t want to use artificial insemination. I want to make that baby the natural way.”
When her breath hitched, he knew that he’d just sent a surge of good old-fashioned lust through her blood. At least he had that in his favor.
“I don’t know, Tommy. I just don’t...”
He tried to help her relax by saying, “You don’t have to decide now. I’m not trying to rush you. But I’m not going to pretend that I don’t want to be with you, either.”
“I’m more than aware that you’ve always wanted us to be lovers. And you know that I’ve always been attracted to you, too. But this is a lot to consider.”
“Just think it over, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Before she made an attempt to fall into step with him, he added, “There’s no need to walk me out.” He knew the way to her front door.
She nodded and let him go, without another word between them.
Sophie barely slept a wink. She’d spent most of the night wondering what to do. And now, at the crack of dawn, she stood in the kitchen sipping her second cup of coffee with unanswered questions still swirling in her mind. Should she refuse Tommy’s offer and choose another donor? Would having a baby by him be too complicated or would it make the process easier? And then there was the sex. Should she give up the fight and sleep with him or keep it professional and insist on insemination?
So much uncertainty, she thought. So much she’d yet to figure out. But maybe all of her worrying and wondering would be for nothing. Maybe Tommy would revoke his offer, and the decision to use another donor would be made for her.
Preparing for that possible outcome, she retrieved her laptop and went into the dining room. Settling in for a brand-new search, she logged on to a different site from the one she and Tommy had used.
After sitting there for what seemed like forever, she glanced at the vintage cowgirl clock on the wall. Two hours had passed, and she hadn’t found anyone who seemed right. Now that the donors were in direct competition with Tommy, she couldn’t help comparing them to him.
Sophie heaved a sigh and reconsidered the musical-theater guy from the original site, but her attraction to him wasn’t strong enough. She needed someone who could hold his own against Tommy, a man who made her heart skip a beat.
Which was stupid, she knew. Before Tommy had offered to be her donor, she wasn’t concerned about being sexually attracted to the man she chose. But now that seemed to matter, somehow.
So maybe she should stop looking at donors with current profile pictures and focus on the ones who only had photos from childhood. Maybe that would solve her dilemma.
Unfortunately, it didn’t. None of the kid pics looked enough like Tommy when he was young to make her want to choose the grown-up donor.
Dang it, she thought. Tommy had doomed her, ruining her chances of accepting anyone else. But there was still a lot to consider. If she used Tommy as her donor, they needed to discuss every aspect of what the future would entail. They’d already agreed he wouldn’t play an active role as the father. But would he want to engage with the child in other ways? Or would he prefer to keep his identity hidden?
Whatever his decision, she was certain that they would always be friends. They’d know each other their entire lives. That was a bonus, particularly in a situation as sensitive as this one. Surely, between the two of them, they could make something like this work.
She could only hope that he hadn’t changed his mind. She wanted him to be the donor.
Did that mean she was ready to sleep with him, too? God help her, she honestly didn’t know.
Her phone pinged, signaling she had a text. She removed it from her shirt pocket. Tommy was up and wanted to come over now. She quickly replied to his message, as anxious as could be.
She considered changing her clothes, but decided to stay as she was, keeping it real. Her oversize men’s shirt had belonged to her grandpa, and she wore it hanging loose over a pair of floral-printed leggings. Her shoes were fuzzy green slippers she’d bought at an offbeat boutique somewhere—she couldn’t remember what city or state.
A short while later when the doorbell rang, she nearly skidded across the hardwood floor to answer it.
She flung open the door; the first thing she saw was both of her Pembroke Welsh corgis prancing on the porch. Typically, they came in and out through a doggy door in the den, but they were grinning at her as if they’d just rung the bell. Of course, it was Tommy who’d done it. He’d obviously let them into the front yard by way of a side gate.
The dogs scampered past her, but Tommy stood where he was, strikingly handsome in a simple straw Stetson. He towered over her five-foot frame. She always wished that she was taller, especially around him.
He shifted his booted feet. “How’re you doing, Sophie?”
“I’m okay.” She didn’t want to admit that she was a basket case. “Doing the best I can.”
“Me, too.” His eyebrows rose slightly. “Are you going to let me in?”
She wasn’t blocking the doorway, was she? She stepped back, realizing that she was. Struggling to get a grasp on her emotions, she led him to the living room.
He plopped onto the sofa, the leather upholstery creaking beneath his butt. “I hardly slept.”
“Me, neither.” She sat next to him, relieved that she wasn’t the only one who’d tossed and turned. But she couldn’t take any more small talk. “Are you still interested in being my donor?”
“I definitely am.” As sunlight spilled in from the windows, his eyes changed color, turning from green to brown to green again. “What about you? Do you want it to be me?”
Sophie nodded. “Yes, I do.”
“Good.” He removed his hat and tossed it on the coffee table, making his eyes more visible. But at least they’d settled on a color. “There’s a lot we have to discuss. Where do you want to start?” he asked.
With kissing you, her whirring mind answered. With tasting the sexy slant of your lips. Shaking away the traitorous thought, she said, “Let’s start with the type of donor you decided to be.”
He had a ready reply. “I want an open situation. No secrets, no lies. I don’t want to mimic my dad, having a child no one knows about. I’d prefer that everyone was aware of our arrangement, including the kid when he or she is old enough to understand.”
Sophie relaxed a little, feeling as if they were making headway. “I would’ve respected your wishes if you wanted to remain anonymous. But I agree that it would be better if everyone knew the truth.”
“If you want, we can join forces to tell the kid. When the time is right, we can explain that even though I’m not in the traditional father role, I’ll always be a family friend. With the way I travel, I won’t be around that much. But at least he or she will know who I am and that I care about his or her emotional well-being. Plus, we can share our past, that you and I grew up together. I think the child would appreciate knowing our history.” He smiled. “We can make this work. I know we can.”
Her heart warmed. “Thank you, Tommy.” She wanted to hug him for being so kind and conscientious. But she didn’t trust herself to wrap her arms around him, not while the issue of how and when they’d conceive the child hadn’t been resolved. She’d spent years keeping her desire for Tommy at bay, and she had to be careful.
He continued with his plan. “We’re going to need a legal document to seal our deal. I can ask my brother to handle it. But if you’d prefer to seek your own counsel, I understand.”
“I’m fine with Brandon representing both of us, if he’s okay with it.” He was like a brother, of sorts, to her, too. It was different with Tommy. There was absolutely nothing sisterly about her feelings for him.
Sophie frowned. Then why was she making such a fuss about sharing his bed?
Because he already had tons of women at his disposal, she warned herself, and she’d vowed to never be one of them.
Yes, but for the sake of conceiving her child, wouldn’t it behoove her to make love with him?
As her pulse beat mercilessly at her throat, she rubbed the goose bumps peppering her arm. How many times had she fantasized about climbing onto Tommy’s lap? Or sliding her hands down the front of his pants? Or making kittenish sounds in his ear? Sometimes she’d even thought about him when she was with other men, and she knew that was a terrible thing to do. Her last boyfriend had cheated on her, but in her low-down, dirty mind, she’d been unfaithful, too.
“Are you okay, Soph?”
She glanced up to find Tommy watching her. “I was just...”
He searched her gaze. “Making a decision about us?”
She nodded, struggling to keep her shameful appetite for him from running amok. “Maybe we should talk about—”
“Are you willing to sleep with me to make this happen? I don’t want to pressure you. Maybe we should—”
“I’ll sleep with you. But we’re not having a random affair.”
“I never said this was going to be random, Soph. We’ll be doing this to make a baby. Granted, I’ve always wanted you, but I’m not going to lose sight of our agenda. I’d still like for it to be romantic, though.”
She couldn’t concentrate on how romantic he wanted it to be. She was trying to hold tight to her emotions. Even with as gentle as he seemed, he was still a playboy, and she was still the woman who was supposed to know better. Deflecting the romance, she said, “There will be certain times that’ll be my best chance for conceiving.”
“And when will that be?”
“In another week or so.” Trying to alleviate the heat dashing through her veins, she presented the clinical side. “Most women ovulate in the middle of their cycle, with about five to six fertile days each month. When we’re together, I’ll use a test for accuracy.”
He furrowed his brow. Clearly, she was talking over his head. “How long do you think it’ll take?”
“For me to get pregnant? I don’t know. But on the average, most fertile couples conceive within six months.”
He tapped a finger against his mouth. “Maybe we should do it more often to be sure. When Mack and Jean were trying to have their kids, that’s what they did.”
“Mack told you that?” He was Tommy’s drummer; she mostly knew him to be a private person.
“No. But at the last party at my house, I overheard Jean talking to some of the other band wives and girlfriends about it.”
Sophie hadn’t been included in that conversation. Of course, she wasn’t one of the band wives or girlfriends, either. “You shouldn’t have been eavesdropping on them.”
“Are you kidding? I love to hear the stuff chicks yap about.” He waggled his eyebrows. “So what do you say? Should we try Mack and Jean’s method?”
The notion spun through her like a tornado. “Don’t get smart, Tommy. Not now.”
His expression became somber. “I know you’re crossing a line you never intended to cross by being with me. And you’re right—I shouldn’t be cracking jokes. But I still think my idea warrants consideration.”
“All right. I’ll think about it. I might even discuss it with my doctor, to see what he thinks is advisable.” She was trying to keep things in perspective, even if her body was hungry for his. “Also, there’s one more thing. Before we go any further, you need to see your doctor and get a sperm-count test.” She wasn’t an expert on semen analysis, but she wanted to be sure there weren’t going to be any problems in that regard. She’d already had her AMH level tested, making certain she was fertile. “The men on the donor sites are required to have above-average counts.”
“Gee, nothing like putting me under pressure.” He nudged her foot, tapping his boot against her slipper. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Because one way or another, we’re going to make a baby. And I promise we’re going to have lots of fun trying.”
She didn’t doubt that. But for now, she needed to catch her breath. She stood and moved completely away from him, letting the gravity of the agreement they’d just made sink in.
After all of these years, they would finally be together.
