The Stud

by Barbara Delinsky

  "But a nice height for a woman. Would it bother you to have a daughter who's petite?"

  "What about a son who's petite?" he tossed off as he left the dock for the beach.

  "A son would inherit your height. " She trotted a little to keep up, but she was hampered by the sharpness of the pebbles. "The only reason my height would be a problem was if we were actually lovers, but we're not. Everything would be done in the doctor's office. " She hobbled over a particularly prickly stretch, then hurried to catch up. "I have no physical deformities, nor do my ancestors for three generations back. If my parents' plane hadn't crashed, they would have lived into their eighties as their parents did before them. " He was lengthening the distance between them. She raised her voice to be heard. "I have perfect eyesight perfect hearing, I can carry a tune and I played volleyball and tennis in high school. "

  "I saw you Charleston, " Spencer called back.

  She trotted two steps and limped on the third. "That's what I'm trying to tell you! I'm athletic!"

  "So why can't you keep up with me now?"

  Stopping dead in her tracks, she shouted, "Because I may be athletic, but the soles of my feet aren't made of leather! I haven't trained walking over beds of nails like you have! You have my shoes, Spencer!"

  With little more than the toss of his dark head, he yelled, "Good! Then you won't go far until I get back!"

  Jenna looked after him in exasperation, but that gave way to admiration as she watched him stride on. He was a striking figure. His limbs were long, lean but strong, and he moved with masculine grace and fluidity. She saw him stop and face the water. He lowered his head in thought. He glanced back at her.

  For the longest time, she held his gaze, feeling its force even across dozens of yards of shoreline. Then, needing a respite, she retreated to the boardwalk to wait. He joined her there several minutes later, but before he could say a word, she resumed her argument. Though her voice was quieter, it held no less conviction.

  "There are other reasons why, if you had to have a child, I'd be a perfect mother for it. I'm smart— between you and me, the child wouldn't lack for brains. I'm patient, compassionate and even-tempered. "

  "You're also the head of a demanding corporation. How in the hell are you going to mother a child with all that work? Are you going to leave the poor kid with a nanny all day?"

  Jenna was offended and let it show. "Not on your life. I'm not having a baby just to add it to my resume. I'm having it because I want to mother it, and I can afford to do that precisely because I am the head of a demanding corporation. I have a support staff that's capable of handling the day-to-day running of things, and I already have an office set up at home with phones and a fax. If I want to work, I can do it while the baby naps, and if I don't want to work, I don't have to. For that matter, if I feel like setting up a crib at McCue's, I will. I'm the boss—I can do what I want. I don't plan to hire a nanny at all, because I won't be needing one. I'll hire sitters sometimes, because there may be important meetings I'll want to attend and also because I think it's healthy for me and the baby. But I'll be its primary caretaker. Me, and no one else. "

  Fixing her eyes on his, she offered what she felt was her most powerful point. "I'll make a great mother because I want this baby so much. I'm not a teenager riding on a whim. I'm a mature woman who has thought out every angle. I can afford to have this baby. I can afford to give it every advantage in the world. And I can handle single parenthood. It may not be easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is. The important thing is that I want this baby. "

  He nudged her shoulder to get her moving back in the direction of the steps to the lawn, but the pace he set was a comfortable one. Jenna dared to hope that he was beginning to see the merits of the plan.

  "I take it you discussed this with Caroline. "

  "I have no family, and she's my closest friend, " Jenna said. "She's known for years that I wanted a baby. When I first started considering artificial insemination, I discussed it with her. Then, when it occurred to me that you would be an ideal donor, I bounced the idea off her. She agrees that it's good. "

  "She would. Do my parents know anything about it?"

  "Oh, no. I won't say anything to them. It's not their decision to make. It's yours and mine. " She looked up at him. His profile was strong, made more so by his brooding expression. "My arguments are good, Spencer. You know they are. "

  "They only go so far. They totally ignore several pertinent matters. "

  "Like what?" Jenna asked in surprise. She was sure she'd covered everything. For the past few months, she had thought of nothing but this.

  "The moral considerations on my part I'm not looking to have a child, but if I were to agree to help you out there would be a child of mine, flesh of my flesh, alive in the world. It's fine and dandy for you to say that you don't want me around, but don't you think I'd wonder about the child? Don't you think I'd feel some kind of responsibility toward it?"

  "I'm absolving you of responsibility. I'll have papers drawn up to that effect, if you'd like. "

  "You're missing the point The point is me—" he jabbed his chest with the side of one loafer "—inside me. I'm not a block of wood. One of the reasons I don't want to have children is that I'm not a good candidate for fatherhood. My work takes me all over the world. I'm never in one place longer than several months at a stretch. I go where I want, when I want, and I like it that way. If I had kids, I'd feel guilty doing that. "

  "There'd be no need for guilt. The ground rules here would be different. You could do your part and then forget about it. "

  "Come off it, Jenna, " he snapped, and quickened his pace. "What about illness? What if the child developed something? Don't you think I'd feel anything? What if, God forbid, it needed a transplant of some sort? Do you think I could ignore that? And then there's the practical matter of getting you pregnant in the first place! Your doctor may have a standard procedure for this, but, according to what you say, that standard procedure requires that I be here at the time you're ovulating. Correct?"

  "Yes, " she said, working to keep up with him.

  "Well, what if I'm not? You want fresh sperm, but what if I'm halfway around the world. "

  "Florida isn't halfway around the world. You said you'd be in the Keys for a while. "

  He stopped and scowled at her. "Did you set me up for that? Did you deliberately get me to tell you that to strengthen your argument?"

  "No, I—"

  "Your argument isn't strengthened at all. " He set off again. "I'd have to be here to donate fresh sperm at the very time you're ovulating, which means dropping everything I'm doing to sit in a little room and whistle a happy tune. And what happens if it doesn't take? What happens if you don't get pregnant the first time? Does your doctor's standard procedure guarantee results?"

  "Of course not, " Jenna said, climbing the steps to the lawn only slightly behind him. "It may take a while. "

  "A while? Two months, three, four?"

  "Maybe. "

  "And I'm supposed to fly up here each time and do my little thing?"

  "I'm asking you a favor, Spencer. A favor. "

  "Hey, you guys!" Caroline called, coming at them across the lawn at the same time that they cleared the steps. "We were beginning to think you drowned. "

  Spencer sputtered out a mocking sound, but he didn't push his sister away when she slipped an arm around his waist. That didn't mean she was fully escaping his wrath. Gruffly he said, "Did you honestly think I'd go for this, Caroline?"

  Caroline shot a worried look at Jenna, who had come to a halt on her other side. "He's mad?"

  "Not mad, " Jenna murmured. "He just needs more convincing. "

  Rising instantly to the cause, Caroline told Spencer, "I think it's a wonderful idea. Mom and Dad aren't the only ones who want you to have a child. I do, too. I miss you when you're gone, and you're gone all the time. If I had a little Spencer to be an aunt to, I'd be in heaven. If my best friend was my niece or nephew's mot
her, I'd be in seventh heaven. "

  "Yeah, and you think our parents would leave it at that? They'd be demanding that I marry Jenna and give the baby our name. "

  "That's out of the question, " Jenna said with such force that both pairs of Smith eyes flew to hers. She looked straight at Spencer. "From the start, I told you I didn't want to get married, and I mean it. I'm not looking for a husband—I'm not looking for in-laws— I'm not looking for an aunt or grandparents for my child. I'm not looking for money, and I'm not looking for a name. My baby will be a McCue. So, much as I love them, if your parents start pushing for marriage, I'll fight them even harder than you will. "

  "You will?" Caroline asked with blatant disappointment.

  "I told you I would, Caroline. From the very beginning, from the very first time I mentioned this to you, that was one of the ground rules. I don't— want—to get—married. All I want is a baby. "

  "Which brings us back to the point I was trying to make, " Spencer said. "What if you don't conceive right away? I can't be running back here month after month to fill little jars with—"

  Caroline interrupted. "Uh, I think I hear Annie calling. " Dropping away from Spencer, she leaned close to Jenna. "Love your hair ribbon. It looks slightly Milan. An Armani derivative, maybe?" With a wink, she was off.

  Jenna gently released the necktie and handed it back to Spencer. "The wind isn't bad up here. Thanks. "

  "You should have left it on. It looked risque. But then—" his eyes touched hers "—you're not the risque type. You're straight-laced and conservative and proper. I can't believe you're thinking of having a child out of wedlock. "

  "What an outdated expression. "

  "It describes what you're doing. "

  "Lots of women are doing it"

  "Women in prominent positions like yours?"

  "Some. "

  "It's very daring. "

  She didn't blink. "Okay, so I'm daring. "

  "I wouldn't have thought that of you. "

  "Most people wouldn't, but I really don't care. I want a child. I'm willing to be daring to get it. Will you help?"

  He grimaced. "Hell, Jenna, you don't know what you're asking. "

  "I do. I—"

  She was interrupted by Spencer's father, who hailed them as he crossed the lawn toward his son. "Come see the Watsons, Spence. They've been asking for you all afternoon, and they have to leave soon. " He threw an arm around Spencer's shoulder, which was level with his. Spencer had clearly inherited his blue eyes from his father, but Joe's blue, like his hair, had paled with age. "They weren't here the last time you were home, and they may not be here the next. How 'bout it?"

  "Sure, " Spencer said.

  Jenna shot him a look that said "Coward. "

  He regarded her with deliberate poise. "Want to come see the Watsons with me?"

  Jenna had seen the Watsons earlier, which was more than enough for her. They were well advanced in age and profoundly hard of hearing. Conversations with them were exercises in futility. The most one could do was to smile, nod or laugh in response to whatever they chose to say, and since most of what they chose to say was based on their warped perception of what the rest of the world had to say, the encounter was often painful. Jenna could just imagine their seeing her with Spencer and drawing the kind of conclusion that she didn't want. Worse, she could imagine them airing that conclusion in the loud voices for which they were known.

  "Thanks, " she said with a sweet smile, "but I think I'll go comb my hair. It's a mess. "

  "Join us when you're done, " the elder Smith invited. "You look good beside Spence. "

  Dying a little inside, Jenna turned away, but not fast enough to miss the scowl Spencer sent her. She hadn't taken more than two steps before she realized he still had her shoes. When she turned back, he was taking them from his pockets. He separated himself from his father long enough to return them.

  "He smells something, " he muttered.

  "Not from me. "

  "Did Caroline talk?"

  "She promised she wouldn't. "

  "If he starts pushing, I'm outta here. "

  "If he starts pushing, tell him to mind his own business. "

  Spencer snorted, shoved the shoes into her hands and turned back to his father. Without further ado, Jenna went on toward the house, but it wasn't until she was upstairs, leaning back against the door in the privacy of the bathroom adjoining Caroline's childhood bedroom, that she put a hand to her heart, closed her eyes and wondered where she stood.

  He hadn't said yes.

  He hadn't said no.

  She slipped the hand to her belly, where it rested ever so lightly. Oh, how she wanted a baby. The longing was an ache deep inside, a tingle of anticipation, a shimmer of excitement. She pictured her womb, pictured an embryo forming in the vaguest of human shapes, pictured that embryo evolving into a fetus. Her breasts seemed to swell at the thought, then her heart when she imagined that fetus becoming a ready-to-be-bom child.

  If she had to, she would use the sperm bank. But the warmth inside her took on a special glow when she thought of her child being Spencer's.

  Chapter 3

  At two in the morning, Jenna's phone rang. Though she hadn't been sleeping, the sound was jarring in the stillness of night. Her heart pounded as she reached across the magazines that lay beside her in bed and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

  "Did I wake you?"

  The low voice was male and distinctive, and did nothing to calm her pulse. She pressed a hand to her breast. "No. I was reading. " After the briefest of hesitations, she asked, "Where are you?"

  "In Newport. At the house. "

  Jenna was in her own house, across the Seekonk River from him in Little Compton. "We all assumed you'd flown back to Florida. " That would have been a typically Spencer thing to do. "I waited in Newport on the slim chance that you hadn't and would come back and talk with me. When everyone else went to bed, I ran out of an excuse to stay. " She hadn't wanted to give the elder Smiths the slightest cause for speculation about something going on between Spencer and her.

  "I was visiting a friend, " he said. "I hadn't seen him for years. Someone at the party told me he'd been sick. We've been talking all this time. "

  "You don't have to explain. "

  "No, but I want to. I'm not heartless. I could see that what you asked me this afternoon means a lot to you. I wouldn't have left without giving you some kind of answer. "

  Jenna held her breath.

  "The problem, " he went on, "is that I don't have enough information to give you any kind of answer. "

  Her hopes rose. "Then you're considering it?"

  "Not seriously. I still think the whole thing's absurd. "

  She thought back over the years to some of the stories that had filtered back to Rhode Island from wherever Spencer was. "You do absurd things all the time. "

  "I do daring things all the time, " he corrected, "and I only do them after I've researched them inside and out. "

  He hadn't said no. He hadn't said no. "I've researched this inside and out, " she told him. "Ask me anything. Go ahead. I'll tell you whatever you want to know. "

  "I want to know more about you and why you want to do this. "

  "I want a baby. It's as simple as that. "

  "But why do you want a baby?"

  Jenna didn't know what to say. She thought the answer was obvious.

  Spencer must have taken her silence as criticism of the question, because he said, "I have a right to know. After all, you're suggesting that you be the mother of my child, and you're saying you'd be its primary caretaker. So whereas donating my sperm would be the beginning and end of my role in this endeavor, yours would be more far-reaching. If being a mother has become an obsession with you, the child will suffer. I wouldn't want to be party to the creation of a child that would be raised by an obsessive woman. "

  "I'm not obsessive. I've never been obsessive. " Strong-willed, perhaps. Stubborn or determined or dedicated.
But never obsessive.

  "Then tell me why you want this baby. "

  She pushed up against the headboard, shifting to get the pillows more comfortably arranged. She pulled the white comforter to her waist, grasped the white sheet a bit higher. She settled the phone more securely against her ear.

  "Well?" he prodded.

  "I'm organizing my thoughts. I've wanted a baby for so long, and there are so many reasons why. Are you comfortable? This could take a while. "

  "The organizing?"

  "The telling. "

  "I'm comfortable. "

  "Are you in the den?" She pictured the room. It was on the ground floor of the Smiths' house and was paneled in mahogany. Large, heavy-handed oils hung on the walls between books and electronic gadgets. It was a dark room, a man's room. She could see Spencer there.

  "I'm in my bedroom. "

  That was a different story. She had more trouble picturing him there. The room was exactly as it had been when he had graduated from college, with banners on the walls and trophies on the shelves. It was a boy's room, but Spencer had left boyhood far behind. He was forty-one, with a harsh scar to attest to the dangers he'd met and a mature and imposing body to match.

  "No comment?" he asked.

  "No. "

  "Want to know what I'm wearing?"

  "No. "

  "That's good, because I'd be hard put to come up with a respectable answer. "

  He was testing her, she knew. He was trying to see if she was squeamish, which would matter if she had a son. "You're not wearing anything?" she asked nonchalantly. "Aren't you cold?" Her cheeks weren't. Thought of Spencer sprawled naked on his bed heated them, and the thought wouldn't seem to fade.

  "Are you cold?" he asked in a low, silky voice.

  "I'm wearing clothes. "

  "At two in the morning?"

  "A nightgown. I'm always cold. "

  "You need a man to warm you. "

  The statement was a sexist one. She might have taken offense if she hadn't been so sure of her feelings. "I have a goose-down comforter. I pull it up when I'm cold and throw it aside when I'm not I drop my dry cleaning on it and pile my books on it, and I've been known to stamp around on it when I'm cleaning the dust off the ceiling fan. It takes whatever abuse I heap on it, and it doesn't complain. It's more indulgent and less demanding than any man would be. "