A Baby...Maybe? & How to Hunt a Husband

by Bonnie Tucker

  Barbara came up behind Rex and whispered in his ear, “Batting under five hundred, are you?”

  “Not for long,” he murmured, massaging Cara’s hand, taking great pleasure in watching her blush. Not many women blushed anymore.

  He had an idea for tonight that she was sure to agree to. He’d entice her to dinner and a walk in the park. Maybe a few kisses, or more, before the evening ended. If it ended at all. Hey, they were old friends by now, having seen each other twice. Only, instead of coyly flirting as he had expected, she said, “What a surprise to see you again so soon.”

  She leaned a little closer, all that gold stuff around her neck and wrist clinking like mad, and he knew she was trembling at the very sight of him, trembling with desire, which was a much more positive sign than her words would indicate.

  Maybe she’d said “Oh, no” because she’d realized just how much he’d seen last night, and the idea that she’d been so exposed to him, when she hadn’t intended to be, embarrassed her. He wasn’t embarrassed though. All he had to do was look at her beautiful hair, gorgeous face and luscious body, and it was enough to make him have a wet dream right here in the middle of his place of business.

  After expending all that energy trying to find out her name with absolutely no luck, it was an act of Providence that Cara and his mystery lady were the same person. That she had come to him. He tried his best to smile in a friendly, professional manner because, after all, he was at work, even if the work he wanted to do was on her. He had a feeling his smile bordered on a leer of appreciation and lustful longings.

  “I’m serious, why are you here?” she asked, her voice soft, shaky.

  “I’m here because you’re here,” he said.

  Why did she look so surprised to see him? He didn’t get it. “Come on, Kate or Tony must have told you where to find me. You made an appointment.”

  “With you?”

  “Who do you think?”

  They both knew the sexual energy between them was enough to light a fire. He had to ask, in a low voice, “Why do you sound so shocked to see me?” Because he knew she must have known where he was. “Is it for the benefit of the people in the room?”

  “Yes,” she breathed. Then she said much more firmly, “No,” in the same breath. “You’re my chicken cowboy.” Her gold things jangled even louder. “You’re my tree-climbing Romeo.” That firm voice got a little fainter.

  “I’m the doctor,” Rex corrected her, feeling his smile slip a little. This was not right. Not right at all. “I’m not a chicken cowboy. Have nothing to do with poultry.” He was a cattleman all the way and proud of it. “This is exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

  “You’re the doctor?” Taking one step back, she covered her mouth with her hand, but he still heard another, “Oh, no,” even if it was muffled.

  Damn. That was the third time. Maybe the fourth. Who was counting? What was wrong with the woman? Her attitude was downright emasculating. Rex glanced at the old boys sitting in the lobby. He didn’t need to look at Barbara—he heard her snickering.

  Ted had woken up enough to say, “That’s the gal he climbed the tree for?” Six others confirmed, still sitting where they always sat, each under the champion-bull picture he felt best evoked his own personality. Only now, instead of leaning back against the wall, which was their way, they were leaning forward. While their eyesight may not be as good as it once was, their hearing was another matter. They were craning their ears to hear what was being said. Ted, being the tallest and the one who did things his own way, gave the others a scornful look and he pulled out his hearing aid. The others might be too vain to wear one, but Ted clearly wasn’t going to miss a thing.

  “You’re the doctor who does the sperm?” She pointed a gold-coin-bearing arm at him, then swung it to the wall where Noble’s Sperm Bank Association declared what the business was all about. “Rex Noble?”

  “That’s me.”

  “I see.” If her voice got any fainter it would fade completely away.

  “Purty hair, young lady,” Tigger called out. “Reminds me of Beulah’s. You remember Beulah, don’t you, Arthur? The old chestnut mare I had. Beulah’s tail had the same red in it as that young’un’s.” He used his pointer finger to circle the air. “See the way red kinda sparks through the brown with the sun comin’ through the window like it is?”

  “Shut up, Tigger. She ain’t no horse,” Arthur growled.

  That’s for sure, Rex thought, but Tigger had it right about the lady’s hair. While she was wearing a very conservative sweater and skirt, the gold coins hanging around her neck, wrist and ears, coupled with that long, silky-looking hair that reached below her waist—the hair that felt like silk when he wove it through his fingers last night—spoke volumes about the wild streak he knew now she had, even if for the most part it was buried inside her. Because if she knew she had a wild streak, she would never have said, “Oh, no.” She would just have screamed, “Oh, yes!”

  Even imagining her saying “Oh, yes” was enough to intrigue Rex to no end. Not to mention the desire he had to run his fingers through her hair once again. This lady was a breath of fresh air after the few Georgiana Rodgers–type of ranching women who frequented his business.

  “Let me ask you a question. Why didn’t Kate want me to know your name? Why did Rosey want to keep your name a secret? It’s just a name. Is there something going on here that I’m not aware of?”

  She turned away from him for a moment and glanced at the men sitting in the lobby. Rex followed her gaze. He almost laughed at the old coots as they scooted their chairs away from the wall, getting closer to the action. When they saw the lady watching them, all movement stopped. Some of the guys looked at the ceiling, humming; Harry pretended to clean his fingernails.

  “I really don’t know. I was thinking the same thing yesterday, and the only thing I could come up with was that a, you’re married, or b, you’re a serial killer.”

  “He’s a killer all right, sweetie,” the pink-haired lady chimed in. “He kills them with kindness. And rumor has it, he’s a good kisser, too.” She walked over to Cara and held out her hand. “I’m Barbara. I’m the office manager.” She turned to Rex, as if daring him to deny it.

  “You can call yourself what you want, Barbara, there’s no raise in it for you.”

  “I’m Cara, from Erie.”

  “I don’t know where Erie is. Is it near Dallas?”

  “No.” Cara laughed. “It’s in Pennsylvania.”

  “That’s too far away. They talk funny over there, you know, east of the Mississippi, no one can understand them.” She leaned forward and said confidentially, “That’s why there’s so much crime up there in the East.”

  “There’s no crime here?” Cara asked.

  “Oh, just semen rustling, nothing we can’t take care of with a few shotguns.”

  Rex put his arm around Barbara and pulled her away. “You’re scaring her. Leave the poor girl alone.”

  “What’s on the floor there?” Barbara moved toward a shiny gold object by the door. She came back and handed Cara one of the gold coins from her bracelet. “Be careful about these, honey. Don’t want you to lose something so pretty.”

  After thanking her profusely, Cara confessed that she hadn’t felt the coin drop. “That worries me.”

  “Don’t wear them then, until you get them fixed,” Rex said.

  “I have to. They bring me luck. And anyway, I have a feeling, with the cost of what I’m going to do, I’m probably going to have to turn the coins over to you for payment.”

  “We’ll talk about it.”

  “There’s something else. Kate and Tony.” Cara fidgeted with the bracelet, then looked up at him, dead serious. “They have no idea I’m here at your clinic today. Do you understand my being here is a secret?”

  “I’m a doctor. It’s unethical for me to tell anyone about anything that goes on between a client and me.”

  “What about them?” She tilted her head in
the direction of LuLu’s benefactors who were in the process of moving toward them once again.

  “Get back!” he ordered.

  The clip-clop-clunk of boot heels and chair legs again stopped.

  “Ah, Doc,” Ted whined.

  “This is a private conversation.”

  There were more grumblings as they scraped back toward the wall. “It’s harder going in reverse,” Jasper complained.

  Spindly wooden legs stalled in the grout. Chairs with old bones seated on them dipped precariously backward. “We ain’t gonna tell no one no how,” Arthur shouted to the lady.

  “No one will know your secret,” Rex promised, looking at the other men. He then whispered so only she could hear, “They’re hard-of-hearing.” Then shouted, “Right, boys?”

  They nodded. “We’re crazy about pickled herring,” Arthur agreed, speaking for the group.

  Rex winked at her. “Believe me now?”

  “Thank heavens.” The look of relief that came over her face was priceless.

  “Okay then. You’re here and you don’t want anyone to know you’re here.”

  She smiled. “That’s right. Thank you, Dr. Rex Noble.”

  Rex, however, was happy again. With the woman of his dreams standing right there in front of him with no food in her hands, and the memory of her wrapped in a sheet burning in his mind, he saw nothing but a lot of possibilities ahead.

  He said, “So, how can I help you?”

  Cara moved another step closer. Her long hair peeked out from behind her as it waved from side to side. The gold coins around her neck clanged against each other. That high-pitched noise, plus the brightness of the gold, caught the attention of the old men who had started scraping their chairs closer again. At least they all stayed in their chairs. All except Arthur. He got up and approached her. First, he leaned his craggy face close to her ear and touched the coins dangling from the lobe. When he was satisfied with the earring, he lifted her right hand and looked at the bracelet hanging loosely from her wrist. Before Rex realized what Arthur had in mind and could stop him, Arthur nabbed a coin from her necklace, trapped it between his teeth and bit down. She gasped and he let go.

  Arthur didn’t apologize. What he did do was hand down his verdict. “You got yourself a right fine dowry hangin’ round your neck, li’l lady.”

  “I haven’t thought of these as a dowry.” She touched the necklace. “Why, my grandma, may she rest in peace, would flip over in her grave if she thought I’d ever use these coins for monetary advancement.”

  “You’re not married, then?” Arthur asked, sliding a glance toward Rex.

  She got a strangely defensive look on her face, Rex thought, as she said, “No.” Arthur blew out air and grunted some unintelligible words, but “good catch” and “fine baby-carrying loins” were among the ones Rex understood. Judging from Cara’s red cheeks, so did she, but for some reason Rex couldn’t fathom, the statements seemed to please her. She was blushing, but she actually looked sort of relieved.

  “Sit down,” Rex ordered Arthur. “Behave.”

  “I’m goin’, but I’m not promising nothin’ else.” He did an about-face, going back to his chair. When he had his butt seated once again, he leaned forward, like the rest of the old men, elbows on knees, chins supported by the palms of their hands, and watched Cara and Rex with great intensity. Not one of those geezers so much as blinked.

  CARA KNEW, deep in her heart, there was no reason on earth to be embarrassed about having an artificial-insemination conversation with a doctor. Only, that was before she found out the doctor was her cowboy, her very own Romeo.

  She had done her research. She knew she would ask intelligent questions. Except now she was all flustered, so she doubted anything she said would sound intelligent.

  What worried her most was giving the impression of being desperate, as if this was the only way she could have a baby. Some people might take that to mean that no man found her desirable or marriageable. She was afraid she would sound lonely and needy, as if she thought a baby would fill her life because there wasn’t a man to do it.

  None of that was been true, but how could she explain without sounding as if it were all true?

  She knew she had to bite the bullet and keep going. She would pretend Rex was ugly and old and undesirable. It would be hard to do. She wondered if he ever conducted interviews where the woman kept her eyes closed. If she had hers closed, she might be able to get through the process without jumping out of the chair, wrapping her arms around him and begging him to donate to her cause.

  She was trying hard to think of the words she needed to get the conversation about sperm and eggs rolling, when his blue eyes captured her gaze and all rational thought momentarily left her. Without him saying a word, she was drawn toward him, as if his eyes had some kind of magnetic force impossible to resist. Which they did.

  “Come here with me,” he said, and she followed him to the reception desk. The desktop was neat and orderly, nothing that looked out of place except for some girlie magazine called Proliferation. Whether the doctor saw her looking and was embarrassed by being caught reading that kind of rag, or whether he was only straightening the desk, she couldn’t know, but he pushed the magazine aside and put another piece of paper across the top. She could still read most of the big bold letters on the cover though. The title of the lead story, as much as she could see, said, “Ustling A Profitable Business.”

  All right, so she’d admit she was a tiny bit disappointed. But, well, it wasn’t as if Cara didn’t know men were flawed. She’d been subjected to Erie’s less than finest over the last month. She should be used to it by now.

  Not that the doctor’s liking pornography mattered anyway. She was here today, not on a personal matter, but on business, strictly business. Although as far as sperm went, when she looked at him, she wanted to get downright personal.

  “Are you okay?” He sounded concerned.

  “Why?”

  “Your breathing seems forced.”

  She put her hands in front of her, palms facing toward him. The bracelet tinkled. “I’m fine. I promise.”

  “I hope we can help you.” His grin was warm and friendly.

  Not we, you, she thought as she slowly lifted her gaze from the desk and looked up at him.

  “I’m sure you can help me,” she said. I’ve been waiting for someone like you my whole life. Oh, Mama, if you could see me now. On second thought, she wanted to keep her mother out of this. “But I have a lot of questions.”

  “I’m here to answer every one of them.”

  She knew she couldn’t keep staring at his face, his beautiful, handsome face, so she looked around the room. The men in the lobby were all talking about her and the fact that the doctor had climbed a tree to see her last night. She picked out those words very easily.

  Some of the men were chewing gum. Some were chewing their toothless gums. They still held on to their little cups. Then one of them spit into the receptacle. Oh, God. That’s gross. Unsanitary. “I don’t want that one’s.” She pointed.

  “That one’s what?”

  “You know what. In fact, I don’t want any of theirs.” She stared at the candidates for fatherhood by proxy.

  Some had balding heads, others wore sweaty cowboy hats, so who knew if there was hair under those hats. She noticed a few with hair growing out of their ears. And chewing tobacco. Filthy, dirty habit.

  They couldn’t possibly be a sampling of the men who donated sperm to the Noble Sperm bank. Could they? She had to ask. “I gather these gentlemen are donors.” Her hand swept the air, pointing randomly at the waiting room and its occupants.

  “Every one of them,” the doctor replied with such obvious pride and affection that it took her back. “I wouldn’t have a business if not for them.”

  That was a little bit discouraging. She didn’t want them. She wanted Dr. Noble. He was so handsome. So downright sexy in his jeans that fit over muscled legs, and those legs, she knew, c
ould perform miracles. She’d seen him climb a tree, after all.

  He was everything a girl dreamed a man could be, and then some. One glance into the waiting room and she also knew that one day he, too, would be old, potbellied and bald, with hair growing out of his ears.

  She had to wonder if the sperm stock from the Noble Sperm Bank was old and decrepit, like the men in the waiting room. If so, was it hard to find donors that were young and handsome like the doctor himself?

  Rex handed her a clipboard. A form was there to fill out and a pen hung from a string tied to the clip. “Do you know what your needs are? We stock many different varieties, and all come from championship lineage.”

  Cara made a sudden, surprising and totally out-of-character decision to go straight to the point. So she put on her best smile. “My needs are very simple, Doctor.” Then, without taking a breath, not wanting to lose her courage, “I want your sperm.”

  7

  SINCE “I WANT your sperm” was the boldest, the most outrageous statement Cara had ever made in her entire life as a good girl, she was braced for a little reaction from Rex. A positive one like, “All right. Let’s go for it,” or a negative one like, “I’m going to wash your mouth out with soap,” which is what her mother would have said. What she didn’t expect was for Rex to level those gorgeous blue eyes at her and say with a perfectly serious face, “That’s why everybody comes here. For my semen. Or eggs.”

  She gasped. “You make eggs too?” This she hadn’t counted on. He didn’t look like a half-male, half-female type. If she were forced to describe him in twenty-five words or fewer, she’d just say, “pure male,” and save herself twenty-three words.

  His eyes twinkled a little and his mouth quirked at one corner. “Sure. Raw or hard-boiled. Maybe scrambled. You want over easy, you’re in trouble.”

  Cara heaved a sigh of relief and smiled back. He was joking. He was talking about breakfast. “Thanks anyway,” she said. “I’ll handle my own eggs.”