The Pregnant Virgin. Anne Eames
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was his eyes—so blue that even at a distance she couldn’t miss them. He brushed a stray lock of jet-black hair off his forehead, then opened a napkin across his lap.
She was still watching when a second man joined the table. He said something as he sat down and the first man laughed aloud, dimples showing on either side of his drop-dead gorgeous smile.
“Well, well,” Lynne said, bringing Ali’s attention back to their own table. “You’re not immune, after all.” Then she chuckled. “Honestly, Ali, if you could see yourself. Sometimes I think you read too many of those romance novels.” She pointed to Ali’s book. “I can’t tell you how many times I catch you with this faraway dreamy look on your face.”
Ali hid behind her iced tea, feeling heat travel up her neck. What was the matter with her? Sitting here gawking at a total stranger. She set the glass down and said, “So…what’s new with my favorite niece? Tell me everything.”
Lynne smiled smugly before answering the question.
Ali knew she’d dodged a bullet this time, but she also knew that sooner or later The Search would crop up again.
“You’re what!”
“Keep your voice down.” Brad Darling glanced around the cafeteria, grateful no one seemed to have noticed his friend’s overreaction.
“You heard me right.” He pushed the stubborn stray hair off his forehead a second time.
“But why would you do…that?” Craig talked around the side of his juice glass as if he feared a lipreader at the next table.
Brad chuckled softly. “Because it’s quick, easy, and pays really well, that’s why. We weren’t all born with a silver spoon in our mouth like you, Craig.”
“How many times have you…done it?” Craig asked. “For science, I mean,” he added with a rueful smile.
“Actually, today will be my first. There’s a fertility clinic in the professional wing next door. I’m going as soon as I finish this sandwich.” He took a healthy bite and wondered if he’d been wise to confide in his friend. Confidentiality didn’t concern him, yet the questions were bound to come. And they did.
“Aren’t you afraid someone will recognize you?”
“For Pete’s sake,” he said, wiping his face with a napkin. “You make it sound like I’m about to commit adultery.”
“But you’ve got a reputation to maintain. You are a doctor—”
“Just barely.”
“Okay, so we’re lowly residents. Still—”
“Look, I’m sure as hell not going over there wearing scrubs or a white jacket with my name on the breast pocket. I’ll change first, go outside, then come in the separate entrance to the clinic. If someone sees me—” he shrugged “—they see me. But I don’t plan to advertise.”
Craig laughed. “Good thing. I can hear the jokes already. ‘Did ya hear about Brad’s trips to the sperm bank? Yeah, I hear he’s making money hand over fist’.”
“Very funny,” Brad said, taking the last bite of his corned beef on rye before standing. “I gotta run. Catch ya later.”
“I’d say ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do’ but—”
“I won’t,” Brad said, picking up his tray. “Since I’m getting paid for it.” He left Craig laughing and shaking his head as he strode out.
Brad wished he felt as self-assured and laid-back about the subject as he sounded. In truth, his sandwich was lodged in his chest and he could feel beads of perspiration forming on his brow. This wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d made out.
Craig was right about one thing, though. The hospital grapevine would eat this one up if it got wind of it. He’d just have to be careful and make sure no one saw him.
Two
It was ten to one when Ali tossed her purse into her desk drawer and eagerly opened her novel. She tucked the book safely from view behind the tall countertop and continued where she had left off.
She knew tonight would be the night. A fire crackled in the open hearth; candles flickered on every surface. He lifted his champagne flute to hers.
“To the love of my life,” he said, his eyes burning as bright as the fire, his gaze so intense she felt weak with love and desire.
He set his glass down and took her in his arms, his eyes riveted on her mouth, his lips inching closer until—
“Darling,” Ali heard, still in a daze.
“Yes-ss,” she drawled, her eyes hooded as she slowly lifted her head.
“Brad Darling? I have an appointment?”
Ali stared at the handsome face, stunned for a moment to see the one and same man she’d been ogling in the cafeteria.
“Y-yes. Of course,” she said, slamming her book closed and reaching for the top folder on the stack next to her. But when she glanced up again he flashed her his toothy smile and she could have sworn the air conditioning had stopped working.
Quickly she looked away and skimmed the contents of his file. “I see you’ve done all the preliminary work. Looks like everything’s in order.” Keeping her head down, she opened her appointment book. “How often do you plan to come?”
“Excuse me?”
“Once a week? Once a month?”
“Oh.”
She heard him exhale and she thought he must be nervous. Not unusual. Especially for first-timers.
“Uh—” he tapped on the counter “—let’s say once a week.”
Eyes still down, she asked, “Is this day and time good for you?”
“Yes, yes. Fine.”
“If you’ll have a seat, someone will be with you shortly.”
Out of the corner of her eye she watched as he passed her desk. His jeans were worn and tight, and she decided she liked this look better than the scrubs, although both packages were spectacular.
Damn. Why was she playing this game? After all, she was critical of guys who leered after women simply for their looks. Besides, she would never go out with someone who worked at the hospital. Especially not a doctor who probably thought he was God.
Aha! Now it all made sense. He was here in hopes of making little Gods—his contribution to mankind.
She pushed out of her chair and stuck the folder labeled “Darling, Brad” in the rack beside the closed door, admonishing herself for such shallow musings. Hopefully the technician would come out soon and usher the guy away.
But for some reason there was a delay and she heard Doctor Boy approach a while later. He stopped at the side of her desk and flashed her his Brad Pitt dimpled smile.
“Sorry to bother you. Any idea how much longer? I have to get back to work.”
If his hair was blond he could double for her favorite actor, she mused, his question taking a beat to register. “Um…let me go find out what the holdup is.” She stood, but he didn’t back up, giving her little room to navigate. She stared at a dark tuft of chest hair peeking above the second button of his light blue shirt and waited for him to move. He stood there riveted and she let her eyes drift up to his.
Big mistake.
Too blue. Too intense.
The door to the back opened and they both turned toward it.
“Darling?” the technician asked.
“Yes,” he said, then smiled at Ali one last time before he walked away.