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

by Bonnie Tucker

  “Fine with me. Seriously, though—” and he did look very serious all of a sudden “—you wouldn’t believe how many people think they ought to be cooked first in case they’re carrying the E. coli virus.”

  “I’m certain that my eggs aren’t carrying an E. coli virus,” Cara said firmly. It had never occurred to her she might have to have her eggs cooked first, nor did she have any intention of cooking them. “You’re talking about artificially inserted eggs, aren’t you?” she asked hopefully. “Not the ones that appear naturally.”

  “Well, yes.” A puzzled looked crossed his face before he said, “I only mentioned it because many clients who want semen also want eggs. I wanted you to be aware we’re a full-service operation here.”

  Of course. It was beginning to make sense to her. Some women not only didn’t have semen handy, but also couldn’t make their own eggs. How sad. “I should have realized that.”

  “You’re a first-timer. You can’t be expected to know everything. But, let me tell you, we do whatever it takes to make a client happy.”

  She doubted that included a personal donation—without the cup. However, he did touch her arm, and where his fingers touched, she burned. He must feel it, too. He had to feel it. Right this minute she felt hot enough to cook her own eggs. “As far as I know, I’m not having a problem with eggs. So we won’t have to worry about whether they have to be cooked or not. Although I would certainly trust your judgment if I did have a problem,” she added, to let him know how much trust she had in him. It was also important to her that he know she was in great physical shape, a good candidate despite her marital nonstatus.

  “That’s good.” He nodded in a very friendly, professional way.

  That wasn’t good. She wanted him to get personal. She wanted him to feel the fire. She wanted him the way he was last night. Only not in the tree. She wanted him on the balcony with her. Under her sheet, not looking at her in the sheet.

  With a lot of discipline, Cara, who didn’t want to look anywhere else except at him, made herself drag her gaze away from Rex Noble and look around the lobby again—not a great view after Rex. She didn’t want to think about these old guys as possible father material for her unborn—unmade—child. If her donor were one of the old guys, she might want her eggs cooked after all, just to be safe.

  Rex was so colorful in his red plaid shirt, the sleeves folded above his elbows, his faded blue jeans, his beautiful blue eyes and his dark brown hair. By contrast the lobby area could only be described as sterile with its dove-gray tile and grout. The walls were gray, too, and blended so well with the tile that she would be hard pressed to tell where the floor ended and the walls began.

  Hanging on the walls, where she would have expected to see paintings of pregnant women or mothers nursing their babies or even bouncing babies on mothers’ laps, anything to indicate the success of the Noble Sperm Bank—instead she saw oil paintings of cattle.

  The paintings were lovely. She could never dispute that they weren’t. Cows nursing calves, others of big bulls similar to the one on the billboard that Cara had driven over to see that morning. And what a bull that was!

  The old men were now sitting together in the middle of the lobby. When she arrived at the clinic, they’d been seated exactly two chairs apart from each other and each sat beneath a picture of a bull, not a cow.

  “They’re fixtures,” Rex said, nodding toward the men.

  And yet not quite fixed. Cara slowly moved her gaze back to him. “Are they here all the time?”

  “Every day.”

  “Don’t they work?”

  “They work at being here.”

  Everything was so different in Texas. Or maybe it was just Pegleg. Maybe the cow pictures were part of a subliminal message to women because cows produced milk and milk and babies went together. As for the bull pictures…well, every man would want to be built like a bull, especially like the one on the billboard. So the pictures must symbolize fertility. And fertility was the name of the business after all.

  “Take the application with you, and you can fill it out in a private room.” He smiled at her, that killer smile. “You can ask me anything you want, I’ll do my best to answer everything.”

  Once they were in a private room, how could she possibly pour out her hopes and dreams to this man? He was all mixed up inside her. She wanted him, she wanted his vital bodily fluids, but she also felt an urgent need to kiss him senseless and have her way with him. Correction, he wasn’t mixed up. She was.

  The bottom line, though, was that she wanted a baby, and how could a man, even a doctor, understand the depth of her longing for a child? She must have had this longing for years but had suppressed it, she realized. The whole idea started to take form and come alive when she saw the billboards and realized there might be a possibility of doing this without marriage.

  “This is a very difficult decision,” she told him.

  “I’m here to help with anything I can,” he said. “I know this business like I know the south forty.”

  She didn’t know what he meant by the south forty, but when he said he would help any way he could, she immediately thought a cupful of the doctor would be the best possible thing he could do to help. She’d even be willing to help with the collecting. The thought of the collecting process, her touching him, bringing him to point that he spilled over with joy made her throat dry up, her skin feel clammy. It made tiny tingles zigzag right through her.

  Meanwhile, the old men in the lobby were all holding their cups kind of outstretched, looking expectantly at her. No, that would be totally out of the question. She wasn’t an equal-opportunity collection processor.

  The doctor was grinning. Oh, that grin of his. She wanted to melt her lips right on top of it. “I have a lot of questions. My not being married might make the semen process unattainable.”

  He looked puzzled. “I can’t imagine why,” he said slowly, gazing at her with a thoughtful look on his face. “I don’t have a problem with it. Not at all.”

  “She wants your semen, Doc. Quit talkin’ so much and go give it to her. Then take the lady out to eat so you won’t have to be climbin’ trees.”

  “Don’t take the first male you see,” Barbara added, pointing out to the lobby. “Choose carefully.”

  It looked as if she was pointing to the pictures, but she couldn’t be. She had to be pointing to the men.

  Clyde scraped his chair forward, too, holding out his cup, positively beaming. “You betcha she does. We’ve got the best. Which one do you think she’ll take?”

  “There’s a lot of choices,” Jasper said.

  Cara glared at Rex. “I thought you said they were hard-of-hearing,” she hissed.

  “They are. They just get excited at the thought of a sale.”

  “You’re not funny.” Cara’s hands were clenched so tight the knuckles turned white. She shook, not from fear but from anger. “I have been open with you and they’re making fun of me.”

  “Cara.” He did something totally unprofessional, and something she desperately craved. He wrapped both arms around her, and she almost sank her breasts into his chest. She needed to get that close, or closer. “That’s what we’re here for. To provide semen. That’s our business.” His voice was soothing, a typical doctor voice talking to a distraught patient.

  “Those old men?”

  “An integral part of the business.”

  “That’s disgusting.” She pushed out of his arms. “Exploiting old men like that. They need to be retired from service. The products they produce can’t possibly be as healthy as young ones.”

  “Money is money,” Rex argued, “and they have every right to participate, every right to make a profit. Or don’t you believe in free enterprise?”

  “You’re being patronizing again.”

  “No, I’m not. Come on, let’s go into the conference room, I’ll explain the process, and you can ask me as a many questions as you want.”

  She nodded. She had
nothing to lose. Staring back at the lobby, she doubted right now, with those as her choices, she’d gain a lot either.

  “I understand. I want to help you any way I can. I want to make it an enjoyable experience. One you’ll remember always. Since this is your first time, it should be all the more special.” He draped an arm around her shoulders and looked back at the lobby. “We’re going to talk about her options,” he threw back to the men. “In private.”

  “You don’t know how hard this whole thing is for me. To have come to this decision to use artificial insemination. It’s not an easy decision to make,” she told him as they walked down a long hallway toward his office.

  “People use this method for all kinds of reasons. It shouldn’t be a hard decision to make, though. We do provide the best product.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked, turning her head to glance again at the men in the lobby. Okay, maybe he was just as delusional about his business as her mother was about the business of getting a daughter married. It was possible. More’s the pity.

  He stopped in front of a closed door. The wall was glass, and inside she could see a long wood conference table with at least twelve big leather chairs surrounding it.

  Rex opened the door, stretching out his arm, holding it open for her. He stood so tall, with shoulders the size of ten football fields and tanned, muscular, pumped-up biceps that were so steely-looking they seemed to call out to her to touch them, feel them, have them wrap his arms around her and protect her for life.

  For life. That could only mean marriage. That’s not what she wanted. She wanted a baby and that was it. She knew she’d consider having it the old-fashioned way if he’d agree. They could have fun. It could be a noncommitment kind of thing. What was the difference anyway, whether it was shot through some kind of injector, or whether he personally injected her. She sighed, and he asked what was wrong.

  “Nothing,” she said. “Just thinking. Big step, that’s all.”

  He nodded. Two long, thick fingers, gently rough, grazed under her chin as he applied gentle pressure to lift her face so she could gaze into his eyes. “I’m sure it is, Cara. I know there are breeders who feel the begetting and the begotting should only be done one way, the old-fashioned way, whether you’re talking cattle or humans. But sometimes the old-fashioned way doesn’t work, and that’s where the Noble Sperm Bank Association comes in. We provide the service when nature, for whatever reason, doesn’t.”

  Not that she didn’t love the feel of his fingers on her chin, not that she didn’t find gazing into his eyes a dizzying experience, but what went through her head was, “Why is he talking about cattle?”

  Suddenly she knew. The evidence ticked by like a movie in her head. The bull and cow billboards. The ancient cowboys in the lobby sitting under pictures of bulls. The magazine Proliferation.

  She whispered, “May I look at pictures of your donors?”

  He gave a soft, sexy chuckle. “Now, if that isn’t just like a woman. She wants to see what they look like, not the stats.” He turned away from her, went to a bookshelf and pulled a huge, leather-bound volume out. “Here they are, but I’m going to cut to the chase. The donor you want is LuLu.”

  “Lulu?” Cara felt she was seriously in danger of fainting.

  With a flourish, Rex flipped the book open and gestured toward the picture on the page. There he was, Rex’s prize donor, bigger than life in every sense of the word.

  “That is a bull,” Cara said. “I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

  8

  CARA KNEW she was in a situation of her own making. It wasn’t as if Dr. Rex Noble had been hiding what it was his company did or the services he provided. The cow and bull billboards right there on the freeway had stated in no uncertain terms exactly what their services were, for heaven’s sake. She felt so foolish. She was a gullible dreamer who had seen only what she wanted to see and had missed the obvious.

  Now she could only hope her facial expression said, Bull sperm is exactly the kind of sperm I’ve been looking for all my life. But gazing at the beauty of his face only rammed home the intensity of what it was she really wanted. And this wasn’t the place she’d get that.

  She wished he were ugly. Then she wouldn’t care what he thought about her and her mix-up. Instead, he was to die for. And she had a funny feeling he knew it. He could have sold not only sperm but anything he wanted to sell with those chiseled features of his.

  As far as Cara was concerned, he could have been selling cat food with recipes on how to cook it. She’d have been right there in line to buy enough cans to fill her basket, and she’d not only cook it, she’d eat it with a smile. All Rex would have had to say was, “Ooh, this is good, baby, give it a try.”

  When she’d walked through the door, she’d thought she’d be able to go to a picture book and find some man who had the looks and personality that she liked and that she’d want to pass on to her child. And she had, but his sperm wasn’t for sale. That meant she would have to win it honestly.

  How? First, by assuring him she wasn’t the flake that she no doubt appeared to be.

  “Here’s what I had in mind,” she said, and paused for inspiration.

  “Yes?”

  Rex. Great name. Rhymed with sex. She let out a breath and wished she could start peeling off her clothes, she was that hot. When she tried to speak, it came out as a squeak, so she cleared her throat and tried again. This time it was a little better. “I really like it in Pegleg. I’ve visited here before, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “I came several months ago to see Tony. And Kate. Both of them.”

  “Tony’s quite a guy.” He held up a Donetti’s Irish Pub and Sushi Bar matchbook for her to see. “Kate, too. Even if they did keep your name a secret.”

  “That’s what friends are for.” She smiled at him, and her brain finally leaped into action.

  Her smile nearly made Rex start unbuckling his belt, but that would have been jumping the gun. Cara was coming on to him, which was fine. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been coming on to her from the moment he climbed the tree. He was glad she found him attractive. He returned her smile. “Friends that are loyal. Loyalty means a lot.”

  “They’re great,” she practically gushed, leaning forward, allowing him to see the plump tops of pink breasts. He had seen more last night, but last night she wasn’t aware of what she had revealed. Right now, she was showing her assets on purpose, and he liked that. Liked it a lot.

  Man, she was pretty. She had scooted a little closer to the conference table. He followed suit, leaning over, coming a little closer to her, too. He could breathe in her soft, spicy floral perfume, something he hadn’t smelled on any other woman before. Made him want to put his lips along the silky skin of her neck and inhale her sweet scent.

  As fast as his common sense had left him, it returned. He leaned back in his chair and away from her magical spell. She looked a little confused, as if it took her a minute to register that he wasn’t falling for her charms. Only she’d be wrong. He had fallen for her, head over heels, the moment he’d stood up in front of Mama Jo’s covered in chicken and seen her standing there. He was afraid that he’d rip off her clothes and take her on the conference table. That wasn’t the way he wanted it to be. He wanted to get to know her, to win her over with his personality and charm. But she didn’t know it yet. He watched her expressions go from flirtatious to confused, to what he thought looked like hurt. He didn’t want her hurting.

  She slowly pulled away from the table, leaving nothing behind but that spicy scent, and settled back into her own chair, ramrod straight.

  “I haven’t eaten at Tony’s restaurant yet,” she said, her voice low and husky, “but I’m told the food is wonderful. He raises the beef himself, feeds it some kind of special food he mixes himself.”

  “I know all about it. Who do you think gave him his first cow and bull to breed?”

  “You?”

  “Yes. He breeds Angus.
My LuLu is a Galloway. Those are pictures of Galloways out in the lobby.”

  “I had a baby rabbit that had the same markings.”

  “They’re something. Look around the room here. The result of fine breeding and championship stock.”

  “They’re amazing.” She glanced at the wall to her left. Hung from chair-rail height to the ceiling were blue ribbons, trophies, plaques and a pair of stuffed bull’s balls. She turned away when she realized what they were, her face heating. Maybe she wasn’t as sophisticated as she had thought. “I’m impressed.”

  “It’s a top honor,” Rex said, the pride in his voice as large as the bull’s stuffed organs.

  “I think I was talking about the trophies.”

  Rex glanced at the trophy in question. “That’s what I was talking about, too.”

  Okay, so they both were lying. What else was new? She fanned the corner of the catalog. “I’d like one, you know.”

  “A bull?”

  “I was thinking of a sweet little cow. Like the one on the milk cartons. Or on your billboard. That’s why I’m here.” She leaned forward again, but this time it looked natural, as if she was really excited about her plan, although the pose still gave him a mind-boggling view of her breasts. “I’d like to pick out a really nice cow, then inseminate her with sperm from your prize bull—” She hesitated.

  “LuLu,” he prompted her.

  “LuLu. And then my cow would have her own beautiful little calf.” The woman’s eyes actually went all misty.

  Rex blinked. This cock-and-bull—or cow-and-bull—story sounded pretty fishy to him. “Where would you put it?”

  “On my farm. I want to buy a farm like Tony’s, only smaller, I mean really, really smaller.” For a second, Rex could glimpse a bit of worry mixed in with her enthusiasm.

  “We call Tony’s farm a ranch,” he said.

  She tilted her head slightly. “I thought a ranch was for horses.”

  “Cattle, too. At least here in Texas. And I’m guessing, and it’s only a guess, mind you, in Pennsylvania, too.”