Chapter 4

The watch on Jen’s wrist vibrated. She rolled over, groping at the bedside table for the digital thermometer. According to the midwife, she had to take her temperature before getting out of bed, sitting up, or even talking. 

The mattress bounced as Freckles leapt down, ran to the door, and whined.

“I know,” she mumbled. “You need to go out.” Still bleary-eyed, it took her a few moments to enter her temperature.

After she’d gotten up and let Freckles outside, she headed for the kitchen. She set her laptop on the counter, and pulled up the ovulation tracker. The app on her watch synced with her phone and her computer—beautiful thing, technology. Her inconsistent periods made establishing a pattern difficult, but by tracking her temperature and other bodily functions over six months, the app would have enough data to predict when ovulation would occur. Right down to the precise moment she should introduce sperm to egg. If everything worked out with Logan, as she hoped it would, she could try to get pregnant as early as next week.

She let Freckles in through the sliding door and put the dog’s bowl on the floor—a cup of high-protein dog food recommended by the vet—before going to the refrigerator to get her organic yogurt. With what was left of her water, she washed down a prenatal vitamin, along with Chasteberry, an herb that helped normalize the functioning of the ovaries. Staying fit, eating the right things, she was doing everything she could to prepare her body for carrying a healthy fetus to term.

Her smartphone buzzed and she grabbed it, hoping it was Logan.

Her assistant’s name appeared instead.

Darn.

“Morning, Amanda,” she said cheerfully.

“Hey Jen, I thought you were coming in early so we can prepare for that pitch.

Double darn. She’d totally forgotten.

“I’m sorry. I have to work from home today. I’ll send you a list of what we need, and if you could gather it—”

“No problem. Oh, almost forgot. You got another invite to a baby shower. What’s that, the fourth this year? They’re putting something in the water, I swear.”

“Maybe I should try drinking from the fountain instead of bringing in bottled spring water.” Making a joke about the office fecundity was better than letting the news get her down.

Amanda laughed. “Do you want me to pick up something for Carrie? I think she’s having twins. Girls.”

“No, I’ll get the gifts.” Jen didn’t add that buying presents for pregnant co-workers helped her combat the tendency to be jealous and resentful.  “Just send me an email about where she’s registered.”

“Will do.”

“Thanks a million.” Jen pulled up her reminders and entered a note to buy baby gifts and purchase her assistant a gift card to a favorite restaurant. A well-deserved thank-you, even if it wasn’t nearly enough.

Her watch lit up. Once she’d downed a cup of coffee, she’d change out of the oversized sweatshirt—her favorite pajamas—into her exercise clothes, and afterwards, a hot shower. Going through her routine would calm her nerves. She wouldn’t be so worried if Logan hadn’t gone quiet on the way back from the restaurant. After they pulled into her driveway, he said an awkward goodbye and agreed to talk about her request later.

He might turn her down.

She’d offered him a lot of money, and he admitted he needed money for school.

Maybe she should’ve offered more. Fertility treatments averaged five grand a pop, and In Vitro Fertilization was a whopping twenty grand. There were organizations where men donated free sperm. Ugh. She wasn’t playing Russian roulette. Why take a chance when she could secure a donor to her liking?

She’d researched everything and watched close to a hundred videos on DIY insemination. The midwife had offered to come over and help. Doing this at home would be far less stressful than going to a cold medical facility.

Her phone trilled with a special ring indicating it was her mother. She debated responding with a message that she couldn’t talk, but then her mother would call back and berate her for not calling more often and she’d feel guilty.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, honey. I’m surprised I caught you. I usually get your voice mail.”

Jen refused to pick up the guilt. She carried too much around to take on more. “You almost missed me today. I’ll be on my way to work in a minute.” Not a lie, exactly. She’d be working on something in a minute. “What’s up?”

“Did your father happen to mention that he went in for a stress test?”

Stress test? Didn’t doctors order those when they suspected heart problems? Jen swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. “No, he didn’t say anything.”

“I wouldn’t know about it, except his secretary called to get your new address, and she ‘accidentally’ happened to mention he was at the doctor, so of course, I had to ask.”

“What were the results?”

“You know he wouldn’t tell me, even if I asked.”

Her mother was right, her father wouldn’t tell anyone, and he would be appalled to find out that either of them knew anything. She wanted to kiss Abby for letting the news accidentally slip. Otherwise, they wouldn’t hear a thing—until he dropped dead. “I’ve been after Dad for years to start exercising and stop eating red meat.”

“He won’t listen to you. He doesn’t listen to anybody.”

Jen closed her eyes and sighed. She didn’t have time to listen to her mother complain about how cold and distant her father was, and how he’d never learned to show affection. Her mother hadn’t done much better, but now that she was in therapy, she seemed to think she could psychoanalyze the rest of them.

“Thanks for letting me know about dad. I’ll give him a call.” She spoke with her father on the phone less than they exchanged emails, but if she waited for him to make the first move, it might be too late. After her conversation with Logan, her parents’ health had been on her mind. Seeing the grief on his face when he talked about his mother and grandfather had, quite frankly, shaken her. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m healthier than ever. I’ve taken up hula, which relieves stress. You should try it. I’m sure there must be places there that teach it.”

Hula? Seriously? Jen rolled her eyes. She liked yoga just fine, and it didn’t require a grass skirt. “I’ll look it up, Mom.”

“You should take better care of yourself, and not work so hard.”

That was rich, coming from one of her Type-A parents.  “Need I remind you, Dad’s picture is next to the definition of workaholic in the dictionary, and you were at clients’ beck and call when you had your interior decorating business?”

“What are you saying? That I wasn’t there for you?”

Jen frowned. What in her voice implied rebuke? As much as she’d longed for her parents’ attention growing up, as an adult she’d moved past being wounded. “No, I’m saying I learned my work ethic from you and Dad.”

“I hope we taught you more than that.”

Her ultra-confident mother sounded uncertain, as if she wanted reassurance. This conversation had taken a strange turn. Possibly, her mother felt a twinge of guilt about being distracted while her daughter was growing up, or had woken today with an indefinable sense of loss. Time was something neither of them could get back. 

Jen had no idea what to say. Replaying if only wouldn’t change the past. She’d withdrawn emotionally years ago, when her parents hadn’t been there for her at a time she most needed their love and support. Intense psychotherapy had helped her work through her anger and resentment, but she hadn’t been able to overcome all the issues she’d spent a lifetime developing.

For the sake of her yet-to-be-conceived baby, she had to try to build a bridge. Her mother and father would be her child’s only grandparents, and they wouldn’t be around forever. “Mom, what are you doing for Christmas?”

“Aren’t you coming out here?”

“I’ve just started a new job, so I don’t have much vacation time, not enough to fly to Hawaii. Why don’t you come here? Spend Christmas with me? I’ve got lots of room, and I’d love to show you the new house.”

“Oh...” Her mother’s disappointed sigh came through loud and clear. “I was counting on you flying out here. I’m in charge of the bridge club party the week before Christmas, and I’m hosting a big New Year’s bash for my book club.”

“Then fly out Christmas Eve. Just stay a few days.”

“What about your father? He might decide to come down to see you Christmas Eve.”

“I doubt it.” Her father hadn’t mentioned his plans, but he’d worked too many Christmas Eves to count. Even though he’d supposedly retired, he still kept busy with his investments.

“Let me think about it,” her mother replied. That meant no, she wanted it her way.

Jen wasn’t up to arguing.

Freckles went wild, barking. As the dog raced toward the sliding glass doors leading out to the patio, she turned to look.

Logan waved from the other side of the glass.

Thank God! She hadn’t scared him off.

He grinned and gave her a thumbs-up.

Her heart leapt to her throat. Oh my God, did that mean yes? Yes, he’d do it? She caught herself just before throwing a fist punch into the air, and fumbled with the phone.

“Jen? Jen, are you there?” Her mother’s voice sounded faint.

She put the phone to her ear.  “Sorry, I can’t talk now. Somebody’s at the back door.”

“Who is it?”

How could she answer and avoid getting into another pointless argument? Her mother had made it clear she didn’t approve, and had told her find a husband first. Her ovaries would wither while she waited for the right man to show up, and she wasn’t sure she had the temperament to put up with him if he did. 

The thought occurred to her that before this week, she’d never considered a man like Logan.

This morning, he’d shed his Western button-down for a gray Dallas Cowboys T-shirt, which revealed more of his impressive physique. She bet he honed those lean muscles working at his family’s ranch, rather than on equipment in a gym.

“Looks like a cowboy,” she answered, finally.

Freckles darted back and forth, baying, and at the same time, wagging her tail.  She knew her new boyfriend was at the door and was eager to greet him.

“Did you say cowboy?”

“Gotta go, Mom. Love you.” There, she said it first. Jen ended the call before her mother could feel awkward about responding in kind.

As she reached for the lock, she yelled at the dog. “Sit!”

Freckles tried. Her backside touched the marble floor for about two seconds, before she jumped up again. She panted so hard her tongue hung out. Her sleek body trembled with excitement. Jen knew exactly how she felt.

She pulled open the door. “Come in, but watch out, you might get attacked.”

Logan flashed another grin. “Best offer I’ve had all year.”

His arm brushed hers as he stepped inside. Her body hummed with energy, the way she usually felt after a workout, not before, and the current was different, like DC instead of AC. Even the air shimmered with sexual awareness.

While Freckles greeted her new best friend, Jen shut the door, using both hands because they were shaking. She just needed to get coffee, food...sex. Oh, hell no. Crawling into bed with Logan Hardt would screw up what had to be a business arrangement, strictly business.

She ventured meeting his impossibly blue eyes, which delivered another shock to her system and set off a rapid fluttering in her chest. He held her gaze long enough to confirm the intense attraction wasn’t one-sided.

Switching to defense mode, she turned her attention to the dog, pulling Freckles away from clawing at Logan’s jeans. Trying to tear them off? She and the dog were on the same wavelength. “Get down.”

“Sit.” Logan’s command, delivered in a low, but firm, voice had a miraculous effect.

Freckles dropped to her haunches—and remained seated.

“Why, you! You’re making me look like a bad mommy.” Jen bit her lip. Wrong thing to say, as it implied she lacked parenting skills. If she didn’t pull herself together, she would mess this up long before she got Logan’s signature on a contract.

She made her way to the counter and pulled open a drawer with individual coffee pods arranged by strength and flavor. “You drink coffee?”

“Does a duck swim?”

Jen threw an amused glance over her shoulder. “Depends on the duck’s mood, I suppose.” 

“This duck is in the mood.” The teasing glint in Logan’s eyes sent a shiver through her. “For coffee,” he added, with a straight face. “Strong as you got.”

She took down two mugs from the cabinet above the coffee maker. “French roast all right?”

“Fine with me.” Logan squatted down to pet the dog.

Freckles trembled at his touch. She’d never behaved this love struck, though it shouldn’t be surprising. Logan seemed to have that effect on females. The combination of rugged handsomeness and gentle strength acted as a powerful aphrodisiac.

He’d offered to make a list of his previous relationships. Joking, of course...or maybe not. He hadn’t followed through, probably because the list would be a mile long.

“Do you take anything in your coffee?”

“Milk.”

“That’s the way I like it too.”

“Wow, three things we have in common. We’re up early, we like our girls sweet, and our coffee strong.” His voice came from behind her. He was so close if she turned she could put her arms around him.

Bad idea. This had to be a business arrangement or it wouldn’t work. Actually, they had little in common.

“I think girls should be strong and coffee sweet.” She added a spoonful of sugar to her mug. “So...have you given some thought to my offer?”

The coffeemaker hissed, releasing the last of the steam.

“Thought about it all night.”

Jen poured a dollop of milk into both cups, trying to keep her hands from trembling. “And?”

“I’ll do it.”

The vise squeezing her heart released. She hadn’t realized—or maybe she had—how much she wanted him to say yes. Normally, she relied on facts, not emotions, which were notoriously misleading. For some reason, she trusted her gut instincts about Logan.

Calm down. Additional facts were needed before she could be certain. “Can you go downtown for the blood test today?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll get whatever doctors’ records you want. Transcripts. Resume. We’ve got a family history online, if you’d like to read it.”

Was he mocking her?

No, he appeared serious. She responded with equal seriousness. “Yes, I’d be interested. I think it’s a good idea to know as much as possible about the donor.” She chose the word donor rather than father. Thinking of Logan as her baby’s father made it too personal.

She offered him the coffee mug. He cupped her hands, trapping them against the warm ceramic, and gazed into her eyes, too deeply for her comfort. “I agree. We ought to get to know each other. I’m curious too.”

His touch warmed more than her hands, so she couldn’t blame the hot coffee. Her lungs constricted, making it hard to breathe. No, she couldn’t let this attraction fool her into thinking of him as anything other than a donor, or this wouldn’t work. There could be no loose ends and no regrets when he left.

She pushed the mug into his hands. “What are you curious about?”

“You.”

Whether he was genuinely interested or just trying to get into her pants, she wouldn’t let him close enough to find out.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything you’re willing to tell me.”

“I’m financially stable, have a Master’s degree, and if you’d like, I can provide character references.”

“Why are you so touchy? It’s not an unreasonable request.”

“I’m not touchy. I just don’t understand why you feel the need to know everything.”

“Because you’ll be the mother of our child.”

Jen’s knees gave way. She had to grab the counter for support. He made it sound like they would be raising a baby together. He couldn’t be serious, or if he was, he hadn’t thought through the complications, which were terrifying to imagine—turmoil, uncertainty, and rejection when he got around to getting married and starting his own family. He had to let go of the idea that he could insinuate himself into her life and play daddy whenever it was convenient. She’d grown up in a dysfunctional home and wouldn’t let anyone put her child through that kind of heartbreak.

“My child, you mean. You agree to waive your rights, all your rights, or this deal is off.”

Some raw emotion flashed in his eyes, only for an instant. Hurt? He didn’t know her well enough to be emotionally invested. He was pissed off because she wouldn’t go along with whatever game he was playing, which she could figure out if he wouldn’t stand so close. At least he was frowning now, instead of giving her those puppy dog eyes.

“I didn’t mislead you about this arrangement,” she reminded him.

“Waiving my rights doesn’t mean walking away without a thought. I won’t sleep well at night if I don’t feel comfortable with whoever’s raising a child I helped make.”

“This isn’t a child you’re giving up for adoption. It’s spermatozoa—” Jen sealed her lips. Too late, the crude remark had escaped. She knew she was being unfair. Blame it on fear.

Still planted directly in front of her, Logan took a leisurely sip of his coffee. “You’ve got your conditions. I’ve got mine.”

Conditions? What more did he want from her? Based on the hard set of his jaw, if she didn’t give a little, she would lose him—as a donor. That’s all she needed from him. Nothing more. He was making this more difficult than it needed to be.

She practiced deep breathing. Anxiety would spiral into panic if she didn’t get it under control. Freaking out was the last thing she needed right now.

Logan took a step back, as if sensing her need for more space.

Jen circled behind the breakfast bar. Putting a slab of granite between them should help her think more clearly. “How long is this list of conditions?”

“It’s a short one. First, go out on a date with me this coming weekend. Second...we make a baby the old-fashioned way.”