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“Exactly.”
They exchanged a look—a look wrought with understanding and empathy. They’d been friends for years and Jamie had never known how much they actually had in common.
“I had no idea it was happening to you, too,” she whispered. She felt as though she was deprived of oxygen. Everything in the kitchen seemed to fade from view. Everything except Rich. If anything, his dark good looks came into sharper focus. As she had a thousand times before, Jamie acknowledged how very handsome Rich Manning was. But there was much more there, more than she’d ever noticed. This was a man of character and strength. A man of substance. He looked older; the years had marked their passage. There were wrinkles on his forehead and shadows beneath his eyes. The well-defined angles of his cheeks as well as the lines bracketing his mouth only made his face more masculine, more appealing.
The silence between them stretched to embarrassing lengths. It was Jamie who pulled her eyes away first. With a weak smile, she picked up her fork and managed to swallow a bite of her dinner.
“This turned out well, didn’t it?” she said in a casual voice.
“Excellent.” He seemed equally intent on putting their conversation back on an even keel. He attacked his dinner as though he’d entered a speed-eating competition.
They chatted for several more minutes, teased each other, exchanged the banter that was so familiar to them. Rich insisted on helping her clean up, but as soon as the last dish was put away, he made his excuses and left.
Jamie felt weak afterward. As weak and trembly as the first time she’d stood on the high dive. The feeling wasn’t any more comfortable now than it had been all those years ago.
Hard though he tried over the next few days, Rich couldn’t forget the look he’d shared with Jamie at her kitchen table on Tuesday evening. He’d tried to define it, decipher its meaning. It was the kind of look longtime lovers exchanged. The kind he’d witnessed between Taylor and Russ, as though they didn’t need words to say what was in their hearts.
But he and Jamie had never been lovers. To the best of his knowledge, they’d never even kissed. Really kissed. A peck on the cheek now and then. A friendly hug, perhaps. That was it. Their relationship had always been strictly platonic. It was the way they’d both wanted it. Anything else would have destroyed the special closeness they shared.
Rich shook his head in an effort to banish the disturbing thoughts that had taken up residence there. Until Tuesday, he’d seen Jamie as ordinary. Not anymore.
Still, nothing had changed, not really. At least nothing he could put his finger on. Jamie Warren was the same person she’d always been.
Not so, he corrected. Her eyes had been different.
To think he’d once believed her eyes were an average shade of brown. He’d never seen eyes the precise color of Jamie’s. They were a blend of green and brown; some would call it hazel, he supposed. That night they’d been more green, reminiscent of the mist rising off a moss-covered forest floor….
But it wasn’t her eyes that had intrigued him. It was something more profound than that. Something more baffling, too.
His musing was interrupted by the phone. Rich grabbed the television remote and muted the volume. He didn’t know why he’d bothered to turn it on—from habit, he guessed. For the past hour he hadn’t heard a single word of the local or national news. He’d been too busy analyzing what had happened between him and Jamie.
“Hello,” he answered briskly. Pamela sometimes phoned him, and he braced himself in case it was her.
“Hi,” came the soft feminine voice he recognized immediately as Jamie’s.
“Hi, yourself.” He felt a bit ill at ease, which he’d never experienced with her. It was as though they hadn’t found their stride with each other yet, which made no sense. Perhaps he was taking his cue from Jamie. She didn’t sound quite like herself; she sounded tense, as if it had taken some courage to call him.
“I was just thinking about you.” He probably shouldn’t have admitted that, but it had slipped out.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, I was going to give you a call later and find out how the appointment with the adoption agency went.”
She paused, and he heard her take a deep breath. “Actually, that’s the reason I’m calling you. Are you busy?”
“Not really. What do you have in mind?”
“Would it be all right if I came by for a few minutes? There’s something I need to talk over with you.”
“Sure, you’re welcome anytime.” He glanced around the apartment to see what kind of shape it was in. Not bad. Not especially good, either, but he’d have time to pick up the newspapers and straighten the cushions.
As it turned out, he had time to wipe down the kitchen counter, as well, and stick his dirty dishes in the dishwasher. The best meal he’d had in weeks had been the chicken potpie at Jamie’s place. He didn’t remember her being such an accomplished cook. She certainly seemed full of surprises lately.
Jamie arrived about ten minutes after her phone call. She wore jeans and the same pink sweater she’d had on the night they went to the movies. He was about to tell her how nice she looked, but stopped himself. Curiously, his heart stopped, too. Just a little.
“That didn’t take long,” he said instead.
“No … But we only live four or five miles from each other.”
“Yeah.” He led the way to the sofa and sat down, resting one ankle on the opposite knee and draping his arm along the back. “So, what’s up?”
Jamie sat down, too, but he noticed that she sat on the very edge of the cushion and rubbed her hands nervously down her arms. He wondered if she was cold.
That prompted him to say, “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“Please,” she said eagerly.
Rich couldn’t shake the impression that she was interested in the coffee more as a delaying tactic than out of any real desire for something to warm her.
He made a pot of coffee, and a few minutes later, brought two steaming mugs into the living room. He had to look around for coasters, but once he found them, he sat down on the recliner across from her and resumed his relaxed pose.
“How’d the appointment with the adoption agency go?” he asked, when she didn’t immediately launch into her reason for the visit. She hadn’t really answered his question earlier.
Her hands cradled the mug and she stared into its depths. “Not very well, I’m afraid. Naturally, the agency prefers to place newborns with established families. Besides, the waiting list is years long, and I don’t feel I have all that time to wait.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.” Rich could feel her disappointment.
“If I’m going to have a child, I want to be young enough to enjoy her.”
“Her?”
“Or him,” she amended quickly, briefly glancing his way.
“So what’s next?”
For a long time she didn’t say anything. Rich might have grown impatient with anyone else, but he found himself more tolerant with Jamie. He watched the emotions move across her face and tried to read her thoughts. It was impossible to know what she had on her mind, but whatever it was seemed to burden her.
“You’re going to think I’m a candidate for intensive counseling when I tell you this.”
“Try me.”
“I … I’ve made an appointment with my gynecologist. I want to discuss the possibility of being artificially inseminated.”
Rich was relieved that his mouth wasn’t full of coffee, otherwise he would’ve choked to death. “You’re going to do what?”
Jamie stood abruptly and walked around the back of his recliner. She braced her hands against the sides as she stood behind him. “I know it sounds crazy, but I plan to have a child, and if I can’t adopt, this was the best idea I could come up with.”
“What about checking with another adoption agency?”
“I did. Five others, and the story’s the same. If I want an infant, it’ll mean years on a waiting list. Two of the agencies wouldn’t even talk to me. The others tried to persuade me to become a foster parent with the hope of adopting at some point in the distant future. I want a baby. Is that so wrong?”
“No,” he assured her gently.
“I’m nearly thirty-two years old, and my biological clock is ticking. Not so loud it keeps me awake nights, but loud enough. If I’m going to do this, it’s got to be soon.” Jamie’s eyes filled with tears, but she was too proud and too stubborn to let them fall. Her gaze met his without wavering. Did she regret being honest because it forced her to reveal her deepest secrets?
“What about the father?” he mumured.
“I … I’m not sure. I’ve read everything I could find on the subject, which isn’t all that much. I understand there’s a sperm bank in our area. I don’t know what else to tell you, since I haven’t been to the doctor yet. I’ll have more answers once I’ve had a chance to talk it over with him.”
“I see.” Rich could hardly believe they were even having this discussion. “You’re positive you want to go through with this?” The minute he asked, he knew he’d made a mistake.
Steely determination shone from Jamie’s eyes. “I’m going to do this, Rich, so don’t try to talk me out of it.”
Her warning wasn’t necessary; he was well aware that any attempt to dissuade her would be pointless. “Are you worried about what people might say?” he asked. “Is that what’s bothering you?”
She shrugged. “A little. The biggest hurdle will be my mother, but I’m not too worried. It’s my life. Besides, she’s been after me to have children for years. Of course, she’d prefer it if I were married, but I’ve decided against that.” Her eyes met his again. She seemed nervous, edgy. Rich couldn’t remember Jamie being either. Until tonight.
“Something’s troubling you.”
She closed her eyes and nodded. “You’re just about the best friend I have.”
“I’m honored.”
“I have several close girlfriends. I’ve been a maid of honor twice and a bridesmaid three times. But when I found out about Tony, it was you I turned to. You’re the one I felt I could wake up in the middle of the night.”
“I feel the same way about you.”
Her smile was genuine, if a little shaky. “That pleases me more than you know. We’re good friends.”
“Good friends,” Rich echoed. Good enough for him to hand over two fifty-yard-line play-off tickets on the off-chance she might find happiness with Bill Hastings. He’d done it without pause, too.
“I’d do just about anything for you,” she said, eyeing him closely.
Rich didn’t know why he felt that was a leading statement, but he did. The door was wide open for him to echo the sentiment. “You’re special to me, too. Do you mind telling me exactly where this conversation is heading?”
Jamie came around the chair and sat on the sofa again. She leaned forward and rubbed her palms together, as though she was outside in below-freezing temperatures. She seemed more sure of herself now.
“You’re such a handsome guy.”
Rich frowned. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“You come from a wonderful family.”
That was true enough. “So?”
“You’re tall. What I wouldn’t give for an extra two inches.”
“Jamie, what the hell are you talking about?”
She stood up, still rubbing her palms. Once more she positioned herself behind his recliner. “I … I was having dinner when it dawned on me exactly what I’d decided to undertake. I want a child and because I do, I’m willing to be subjected to heaven knows what kinds of medical procedures. I don’t care. It’s a small sacrifice, and I’m amenable to whatever it takes. The only aspect of this entire scenario that disturbs me is giving birth to a stranger’s child. A man I’ve never met, never even seen. Then it came to me. There’s one person, a man I admire and trust above all others. It didn’t make sense to go through all this and have a stranger’s baby when … when there’s already someone in my life who’s tall, dark and handsome. Someone with excellent chromosomes who might be willing to contribute to this project.”
“What are you saying?” Maybe she didn’t mean what he thought she meant. Maybe this was all a dream and he’d wake in the morning and have a good laugh. Maybe Jamie wasn’t wrong about the counseling. There seemed to be a hundred maybes in this. Rich didn’t like the answer to a single one of them.
Jamie looked into his eyes and smiled, the softest, sweetest smile he’d ever seen. “I’m asking you to be the sperm donor for my baby.”
Three
“Naturally, I don’t expect you to make a decision tonight,” Jamie added, walking around the recliner and sitting down again. She leaned back and crossed her legs, striking a relaxed pose.
Rich frowned. She sounded so casual, so comfortable with the idea. Mentioning it had obviously demanded courage, but now that her baby plan was out in the open, she seemed completely at ease.
But Rich wasn’t. His thoughts were in chaos.
“I … don’t know … what to say,” he stammered.
“I’m sure the whole thing comes as a shock,” she said. “I wish there was some way I could’ve led up to it with a little more tact, but I couldn’t think how to say it other than flat out. I didn’t want there to be any room for misunderstanding between us.”
Rich was standing now, although he couldn’t remember getting to his feet. “No … this is the best way.” He paced back and forth in front of the coffee table. “A baby,” he muttered, needing to hear himself say it aloud. He was trying to assimilate exactly what it was Jamie had suggested. He paused, waiting to be overwhelmed by objections, but apparently he was too numb to think clearly. Not a single protest occurred to him. Not one.
Questions. There were plenty of those. A few doubts and a whole lot of shock, but no real opposition. Although he’d thought there would be. Should be.
“Our baby,” she said, her smile serene—as if she was already pregnant and counting the days before their child’s birth.
Her attitude, the calm way she was watching him, unnerved Rich more than anything. He stalked into the kitchen, emptied his coffee mug and then refilled it. When he returned, he saw that Jamie was studying him closely.
“Say something.” Her confidence seemed to be shaken, and for his own peace of mind, Rich was relieved to see it. She’d been taking this in stride a little too easily.
“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted bluntly.
“It sounds preposterous to you, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” he nearly shouted. Preposterous was putting it mildly. She was talking about creating a new life, one that would link them forever.
“Why?”
“Why?” He couldn’t believe she’d even ask such a thing. “You want me to father your child. A baby—any baby—is a huge responsibility and—”
“But that responsibility would be mine,” she said quickly, interrupting him. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t ask for any support, financially or emotionally.”
That didn’t sit well with Rich, either. He put down his coffee, sank into the chair again and leaned forward, pressing his elbows to his knees. He needed to think but couldn’t seem to form a single coherent thought. “Let me see if I understand this correctly,” he said after a moment. “You don’t want anything from me other than a … biological contribution. I’d father your child, and that’s all.”
“For this to work, you’d—we’d both need to separate ourselves emotionally from the procedure. The baby would technically be yours, but only because of his or her genetic makeup. For all intents and purposes, the pregnancy and the child shouldn’t be any different than if I’d gone to a sperm bank.”
“In other words all you really want from me is my genes.”
“Yes,” she said, nodding emphatically. Her eyes briefly met his, and she appeared to have immediate second thoughts. “I know I’m making it all seem so callous, but that’s not my intention. There’s no one I trust more than you, no one else I feel comfortable approaching with this idea. If the doctor were to line up ten guys—ten strangers—and ask me to choose one of them to father my baby, I’d pick you instead. Knowing you and trusting you means so much to me. We’ve been friends since high school and that adds a whole other dimension to this.”
“I don’t know….”
