Who Will Father My Baby?. Donna Clayton
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drizzled with the perfect amount of rich butter. The salad was crisp and cool, the homemade balsamic vinaigrette making it utterly…perfect.
And so was Dane Buchanan. Just as perfect as she had recalled him being.
During her drive to Oak Flat, Lacy had worried that her memory of the man might somehow have been glorified by the passing years, that she’d made him larger than life in her mind. But she’d discovered over dinner that he was as honest, intelligent, hardworking and down-to-earth as she remembered. And there simply wasn’t a more perfect physical specimen of a man to be found, she was sure.
His face was leaner, more honed than she remembered. The smile lines bracketing his mouth, fanning out from his eyes, gave him a remarkable appeal even her wildest imaginings had failed to conjure. His thick thatch of coal-black hair was shiny and Lacy found herself wanting to comb her fingers through the hints of silver at his temples. The years had transformed him physically into quite a man. Quite a man, indeed.
But what hadn’t changed one iota were his eyes. She’d been fascinated by his smoky-gray gaze twenty years ago. Enthralled by the curiosity that had danced there, the vigorous light that flashed and caught her up in the energy that had seemed to pulse from him back then.
Those sooty orbs still ignited with uncontainable liveliness as she coerced him to tell her about his day-to-day life breeding and raising Angus cattle. He had a wonderful way of expressing the joy he found in what seemed the most mundane of chores. And she found herself just as swept away by him, just as mesmerized by his joie de vivre now as she had been when they’d attended college together. She listened in wonder as he described the spring calving season and all the sleepless anxiety and miracle of new life that came with it. And summer hay cultivation had kept him busy from sunup to sundown until just recently. He made the mowing, raking and baling sound almost fun, although she imagined it had to be hot, rigorous work.
A couple of times he’d tried to inquire about the reason behind her arrival, but she’d successfully parried his questions. She wasn’t quite ready to blurt out her motivation for coming to see him. Not just yet.
Not only did she feel unprepared, but she also continued to be overwhelmed with desperation. The feeling kept rolling over her in a wavelike fashion. The anxiety welling in her brought a dread she wasn’t used to. She was a successful businesswoman. And she hadn’t gotten that way feeling apprehensive or fearful. She’d landed at the top by identifying terrific opportunities when they presented themselves…and by taking full advantage of those opportunities.
Dane Buchanan was the opportunity of a lifetime, in her estimation. But she couldn’t allow this chance to slip from her grasp by shocking him with her request too soon. She needed to ease into this. Garnering his trust, renewing their friendship, had to come first. She had every intention of doing this right.
The other men she’d approached about fathering a child for her had been people she had known as friends, or through friends or her business. And those associations had helped her to make her plea, given her an opening, a place to start. But the connection she had with Dane was twenty years old. And she didn’t even know how well he remembered their times together. How would the poor man react to having some stranger from his past marching into his home out of the blue, asking him for a sample of his sperm?
If she couldn’t fathom the scenario herself, how in the world would he?
She needed to take her time. Ease into this.
However, the words that would incite his sympathy in her plight as well as obtain his help had better come to her. Fast. Because, her mind warned, you don’t have a whole lot in the way of time. You can only stall the man for so long.
And as proof that the thought was nothing but dead on, he chose that moment to lean toward her, level a direct gaze on her face and ask, “So what was it that made you look me up after all these years, Lacy?”
Renewed panic swelled inside her. Frantically, she did what she could to tamp it down. But she could do nothing to quell the deep maternal yearning that plagued her soul. Her success here was more important to her than any business venture she’d ever strived for, any success she’d ever achieved.
Lacy literally blanched at the thought. She knew how intense, how terribly profound, her longing was to become a mother…to birth, to hold, to care for, to raise, to love a child of her own. She’d described it to her friends as being marrow-deep. But the fear pulsing through her at this moment, the chill the thought of failure brought, made her recognize that filling this hole in her, satisfying her mothering instinct, was more important than anything she’d ever needed or done or accomplished in her whole life. In that instant, she realized she’d never be complete without a child.
She also realized the extreme anguish she faced…if Dane were to refuse her request.
His gray gaze had darkened with concern as he reached across the table, his work-roughened palm warm, almost comforting, as it slid over top her hand.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “You’ve gone quite pale.”
The physical contact made her blink, and she forced her eyes to remain open as she battled the wave upon wave of energy that coursed up her arm—over every inch of her skin—as her body reacted to his touch.
Her lips were cottony dry, and she moistened them. She had no idea how long she’d been silent…or how long she’d been wrapped up in her own desperation.
“I’m all right.” She picked up her glass of water, noticing the slight tremble of her fingers, and took a gulp. “You must think I’m crazy,” she said after setting down the glass. “Coming here unannounced. After so much time.”
“I don’t think that at all.” He relaxed against the back of the kitchen chair. “I will admit to being curious. I mean, it has been a lot of years.”
She paused a moment, her mind going completely blank. How could she ever explain herself to him? He was going to hear what she had in mind, and he’d go screaming and running into the night. When they had sat down at the table to eat, rain had begun to ping against the kitchen windowpane, but Lacy doubted the weather would stop the man from fleeing the situation should he decide to do so.
Dane was sure to react adversely to her idea. All the other men had, hadn’t they?
She wanted to give herself a swift kick. She wouldn’t get anywhere thinking such negative thoughts.
With her eyes glued to the window, she murmured, “You see, I’ve been searching for the perfect man—”
His loud groan cut her words to the quick.
“You’re not a journalist, are you?” he asked, suspicion varnishing his tone until it was sharp and burnished. “Twice over the years, I’ve had reporters hunt me down about that stupid article that was written about me during college. And I don’t mind telling you, both times I’ve refused to be interviewed.”
The subject of their conversation had twisted out of shape so suddenly that Lacy was taken off guard.
“No,” she assured him. “I’m not here to do a story on you.”
He looked visibly relieved. “That whole thing was such a crock. I can’t believe that idiot reporter printed that story back then.” Almost to himself, he said, “That silly article nearly kept Helen from marrying me.”
“Well, I thought it was a wonderful article,” Lacy told him. She couldn’t have stopped the words from tumbling off her tongue even if she’d wanted to. “Very flattering.”
“Too flattering,” he spat out. “The adulation was so overdone that the whole piece bordered on obsequious. It was downright obnoxious with its sugary depiction of me and my life. If I’d have been diabetic, I’d have gone into insulin shock.”
The venom that oozed from his words, his expression, his whole body stance, took her completely by surprise. Although she couldn’t say why, his strong reaction annoyed her.
“But it was all true,