Her Baby's Father. Katherine Garbera
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level was so high she could almost smell it. He was a man’s man. The kind of guy who could walk into a roughhouse-roadside bar and feel at home.
His touch at her elbow when they’d crossed the street had burned through her thin summer suit jacket. For a minute she’d forgotten why she’d given up on men. But the answer rushed back. There was no mythical Mr. Right waiting out there for her. Just good-looking guys ready for a “good time” and then goodbye. Reese Howard would be no different, she reminded herself firmly.
“Do you like latte?”
“Yes,” she said. She’d become addicted to caffeine early in life when her maternal grandparents had fixed her “sweet coffee” in a demitasse.
He ordered fancy coffee for both of them, in a way that annoyed her. But she let it go because surely she’d annoyed him by being late. He probably needed to reestablish his position of control. Having worked with men throughout her career, she was used to the way they tried to hoard power and had learned to fight the big battles and let go of the little ones.
He propped his elbow on the table and watched her. It unnerved her. She wished she could see his eyes. Was he really looking at her? The mirrored shades showed her nothing but herself.
The woman looking back at her wasn’t one she embraced. It was a breezy day. Her hair seemed to have a will of its own, which dictated that it writhe around her head like Medusa’s snakes. Concerned that he’d give her a bad report to his boss, she tried unobtrusively to tame her hair with her hands.
Worry never solved anything. Calm down.
But she couldn’t. So much rode on the outcome of their initial meeting. What if he went back to his editors and told them to find a different woman for the artificial insemination article? She’d have to find a way to pay for it herself, and money was tight right now because she was saving to buy a house on Mount Tam. And banks liked to see money in your account before they lent you more money.
The only thing she owned of real value was the classic car her father had purchased for her the year she’d been born. And after his death two years ago she’d promised herself to never sell it. She would in an extreme emergency, but right now there was another option. An option that would bring her lifelong dream of being a mother to fruition.
She glanced out over the bay and remembered why she’d started making sacrifices. She had always wanted a large family, but her parents had been in their late forties when she’d been born and they hadn’t been able to have any more children. She missed her mom and dad, craving the bond of family the way some people craved money and others coveted power.
She craved children because a large hole in the center of her soul couldn’t be filled by work or dating. She needed to nurture a small being, to pass on the stories and skills she’d learned from her parents and leave behind a small piece of herself. And she wanted to start on her family before she was too old to enjoy a child.
Her failed marriage had proved the only way she’d have a family was to go out and create one herself. She needed the stability. She missed the love and caring. She wanted to be able to accomplish something meaningful before she died. She’d had one of her closest friends die last year from cancer. Sabrina felt everything happened for a reason. Marcia’s death had convinced Sabrina it was time to make changes. She wasn’t going to live forever.
The sun beat down on the back of her head, and despite an occasional breeze, she was hot. The sea air smelled sweet and she wished she were on the beach. Maybe holding hands with her faceless dream man. The one who always showed up in her fantasies but never in real life.
She wanted every detail of this interview to be perfect. Hopefully, the reporter would be so impressed by her, that he would make his editor understand why it was so important she have a child. She must make up for the ground she’d lost by being late. The magazine hadn’t paid for anything yet—this interview would be the deciding factor.
Once their lattes arrived, Reese removed a narrow pad from his back pocket. “Tell me about your decision to have a child by yourself.”
He removed his sunglasses, and she found herself staring into eyes the color of the darkest night. They had to be brown, she thought, but they were so dark they seemed black. The lines of his face showed signs of hard living and time in the sun. She’d always been attracted to outdoorsy men. Reese Howard was rugged and drop-dead gorgeous—and he’d been eyeing her when she’d walked up to him.
“I’m lonely,” she said at last, thinking of this past solitary Christmas. All of her friends spent the time with family, and though Kayla had insisted she’d be welcome with her family, Sabrina simply couldn’t spend the holiday with her friend.
It would have demonstrated to Kayla and the world what Sabrina didn’t have. It was then that she’d made her decision to have a child. The idea had been in her mind for months, but sitting in front of the gaily decorated Christmas tree by herself had focused her resolution.
He didn’t write that down. He set a ratty-looking pen on the table and leaned forward, bracing his weight on his folded arms. The breeze kicked up again and ruffled the hair that brushed the back of his collar. He needed a haircut, she thought.
“Lonely how?” he asked, his voice raspy. The kind of voice her faceless dream lover had. The sexy tone made her shiver inside her coat and she rubbed her arms to dispel the sensation.
She began to feel more at ease and practically forgot that this wasn’t a casual meeting between friends, but a business interview. He made her feel as if she were the only woman in the world. What she had to say was important to him, she realized. “I have no family. Everyone at work has a family, some are close-knit, some complain about family members, and I have no one.”
He narrowed his eyes and looked out over the bay. Sailboats, wind surfers and water skiers peppered the water. “Are you an orphan?”
“Not really. But my parents died a few years ago.” She let the memory of her dad play through her mind. He’d often smelled sweetly of pipe tobacco, and his embrace had always engulfed her, making her feel cherished and safe in a way she hadn’t in a long time. And she missed her mom’s smile and warm understanding. She wanted one last hug from them, but knew, of course, she could never have it.
She longed to be a little person’s security blanket. The one thing that made a child feel safe in the middle of the night when scary monsters came to call. And later in life, when the teenage social scene left heartbreak, she wanted to soothe the hurt. She wanted to feel as if she was making a difference in someone’s life the way her parents had in hers. But more important, she wanted to share the joy of living with someone else. With family.
“I’m sorry,” he said. And she saw in his eyes that he really was. For an instant their gazes met and she felt that same current charge through her. Something shocking and unexpected, like a stream of warm water in the cool Pacific Ocean.
“Thanks. I still miss them,” she said. Tears burned the backs of her eyes but didn’t fall. She blinked several times and looked away.
“My dad is gone, too,” he said.
“What about your mom?” she asked, though it wasn’t her interview.
“She died giving birth to me,” he said in a way that didn’t encourage further questions.
She glanced back at him and was compelled to touch him. Taking his hand in hers, she rubbed her thumb over his knuckles. He stared at her for a long minute before finally turning away.
Sabrina looked down at their hands, startled again by his size. His hands were tanned where hers were pale. His skin callused where hers was smooth. His touch comforting where her life had been lacking for so long.
She pulled her hand from his slowly, reluctant to stop touching him. Shoving her hands in her lap, she forced herself to be more businesslike. No matter how comfortable she felt with him, he wasn’t her friend. He wasn’t her soul mate no matter how much his deep eyes made him seem so. He wasn’t anything more to her than a stranger.