by Susan Gable
The muscle on the side of her jaw twitched. She dug in her purse again, slapped a checkbook on the counter. “I’ll pay you. The clinic paid, right?”
“You’re joking, right?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
No. She didn’t. And he wasn’t sure how to take that. “Money isn’t the point. It wasn’t the point then.” He sighed. “I’m sorry.”
She slid from the stool and stalked the length of the kitchen, stopping at the back door. She leaned her head against the edge of the frame. Her shoulders slumped.
Ah, hell. He left his own chair, went to stand behind her. “You’re not crying, are you?” he murmured. “’Cause there’s no crying in the kitchen.”
“No,” she snapped. “I’m not crying.”
“Why is this so important to you? What’s the big need for a full biological sibling?”
Her blue eyes, a shade darker than his own, were red-rimmed, but no tears fell as she turned abruptly to face him.
“My child’s life is at stake. And I will do whatever it takes to save h—uh, my child. Whatever it takes.”
Finn’s chest tightened. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Severe aplastic anemia,” she said. “What’s that?”
“It’s a blood disorder. Her body doesn’t make enough new blood cells.”
“That’s serious?”
“It’s often fatal. Treatment can help control it for a while, but the only chance my child has for a cure is a bone marrow transplant—”
The room tilted around him with those three words.
“—and there’s no match in the database. We need a matching sibling.”
“Shitdamnhell.” He raked his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”
She pressed her lips tightly together, gave a quick jerk of her head. Her eyes filled again.
He’d always been a sucker for a strong woman’s tears. The determined way she struggled for control tied his guts into knots.
He pulled her against his chest.
She stiffened for a moment, then leaned into him. Finn wrapped his arms around her, stroking her silky hair. Vanilla. She smelled of vanilla.
Something deep inside him warmed. A primitive need to protect, to help this woman who, despite her protests to the contrary, had given birth to his child. “I’m so, so sorry.”
She rested her head against his shoulder.
He held her for a few moments. When she eased back, he let her go.
He crossed the kitchen to rummage in the cabinet beneath the island. Pulling out the bottle of Bailey’s, he dumped a liberal dose into his mug. He turned it toward hers as she joined him. “You probably need this more than I do.”
She waved him off. “Need it, yes. But…” Her mouth twitched. “I’m hoping to get pregnant soon, so none for me. Coffee is already pushing it.” She picked up her mug, took a long drink.
“How do you get this anemia thing?”
“The doctors aren’t sure.”
“Is it genetic?”
“Sometimes.”
He put the bottle away, the tremors returning to his hands with a vengeance. His worst nightmare had come true. His child was out there, sick, with a disease his DNA may have transmitted. Of course, he hadn’t known at the time. His brother Ian’s bout with leukemia had occurred after Finn had donated his sperm. After the diagnosis, he’d begun to worry. What if? Now, what if was standing in his kitchen. She wasn’t a nutcase, after all. Just a desperate mother trying to save her child’s life.
He knew a thing or three about determined mothers, having watched his own with Ian. Every single sibling, eleven of them in all, had been tested. Derek and Kyle had matched. Kyle’s age, only thirteen at the time, had led to Derek being designated the donor for Ian.
Except Ian hadn’t survived long enough for the transplant. Double pneumonia, in conjunction with his weakened immune system, had cut his fight short.
Which meant Finn—and the rest of the clan—didn’t match Amelia’s child, either, since they were all listed in the Bone Marrow registry as a result of the tests.
“What if the new baby doesn’t match?”
“They prescreen the embryos before they implant them. They’ll match.”
“Oh.” He settled back onto the stool and waited for her to do the same, then leaned across the island to clasp her hand. Her fingers were cold and clammy despite having been wrapped around the cup of hot java. He gave them a quick squeeze. “Okay. Tell me the whole story.”
“There’s nothing more to tell. I need you to help save my child. Will you?”
Anger surged through him. “What kind of a man do you take me for?”
She freed her hand from his grasp. “Mr. Hawkins—”
He glared at her.
“Finn. I have no clue what type of man you are. Hopefully, you’re not the kind who can turn his back on someone who needs you.” She glanced down.
“You’re not used to asking for help.” He could see it in the proud way she held her head, her shoulders.
“No. But I’ll beg if I have to.”
“You don’t have to.”
Her face jerked up. “Really? You’ll do it?”
She wasn’t asking him to be a father. Amelia’s emphatic references to “her child” drove that fact home. Not that he wanted to be a dad at this point in his life.
He had enough to handle right now, getting the restaurant ready to open without adding a family-size side dish of complications.
But if the only way to save one child was to create another… Did he have a choice?
“Yeah, I’ll do it.”
TEN MINUTES LATER, Finn found himself upstairs, in the bathroom attached to his bedroom, warily eyeing the specimen cup he’d unwrapped and set on the counter. He paced the small space—one and a half steps one way, one and a half back. Sinking to perch on the edge of the bathtub, he scrubbed his palm over his face.
Think dirty thoughts. Imagine naked women.But the only image that came to mind was the troubled blue eyes of the woman who waited in his kitchen, and the only thoughts were of his unknown, unnamed, sick child. He didn’t even know the gender!
He stared down at his zipped fly. “Hell, at least the clinic provided magazines.”
He could always raid Hayden’s room. No doubt his younger brother, who’d moved to the new place with him following Greg’s engagement, had a Playboy or two stashed somewhere. Hayden insisted Playboy was classier than surfing the Internet.
Thank God Hayden, known within the family, not always affectionately, as Jabber Jaw, had already left for work.
That train of thought wasn’t helping Finn, either.
What he needed was inspiration. Motivation.
He smiled wryly.
His best inspiration always had been found in the kitchen.
CHAPTER TWO
“HOW’S THE WEATHER in Boston, Mom?”
Cell phone pressed to her ear, Amelia stared out the kitchen’s back window, through the enclosed porch at the stunning view of Lake Erie. “Nice. Sunny. A bit warmer than home.” Home was Caribou, Maine, located as far north as you could get on the eastern coast of the States. She’d left New York City when Jordan was an infant for a more wholesome, healthy environment in which to raise her child. So much for healthy.“Uh-huh. And how’s the chiropractic conference?”
“Same as usual. Kind of boring, but necessary.”
Her daughter snorted. “Mom, you suck at lying.”
Amelia’s chest tightened. “What? Why would you say that? Accusing your own mother of—”
“Google. According to the Internet, it’s raining in Boston this morning. And there’s no chiropractic conference there right now. Where are you?”
“I— I’m taking that computer away from you!” She’d bought Jordan the mini laptop, complete with all the bells and whistles including built-in Wi-Fi, for her thirteenth birthday. Supposedly to let her do things while they waited in medical offices, or on occasion, in the hos
pital. She hadn’t figured her daughter would use it to spy on her. Kids.
“Mom, you never lie to me, not even about the scary medical stuff. What’s going on?”
Amelia fumbled for something to tell her.
“Ohmigod. You found him, didn’t you? You found my father.”
Amelia clenched her teeth before answering, repeating something she’d told Jordan umpteen hundred times. “He is not your father. He’s the sperm donor responsible for half your DNA.”
“Whatever, Mom. Not the point. What’s he look like? Do I look like him? Is he on board with the plan? Where are you?”
Door hinges squeaked. Amelia turned to see the man in question coming out the back staircase he’d climbed twenty minutes earlier. Only now he wore a form-hugging white T-shirt and clutched the cup.
She needed to get that, Jordan’s lifeline, to the Erie Bayfront Fertility Clinic, which had agreed—at a price, of course—to process it for her and ship it to the clinic she was using in Portland, Maine.
“Mom?”
“Gotta run, babe. I’ll call you later.”
“Mom! Mom! Take a picture and send it to me!”
Amelia snapped the phone closed and flicked the ringer off, crossing to meet Finn by the island. She shoved her cell into her purse and reached for the container. “Now that’s what I call service. Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
“What?”
He shook his head, then inclined it in the direction of her hand.
The cup was still empty. “You changed your mind?”
“No.” Faint pink flushed his cheeks, highlighting his rough morning stubble. He narrowed his eyes, appraising her. His attention slid from her face to linger slightly lower. Beneath the cream turtleneck, her breasts tightened in response.
The corner of his mouth twitched, and his gaze dropped still lower. The visual caress glided over her waist and hips…. She tried to speak, but had to unglue her tongue from the roof of her suddenly dry mouth first. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
His attention snapped back to her face. That slow grin appeared, along with his dimple. “I want to kiss you.”
The temperature in the room shot up, as if all his ovens were running full blast with the doors open. She took a step back. “I…”
He advanced on her. “I’ve given you a child. You’ve asked for another one. I don’t think a kiss is too much to ask in return, do you?”
“A kiss?”
“I need…”
“Need?” she prompted when he fell silent.
His gaze flickered to the object still clutched in her hand. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Need. A little inspiration… I can’t… Aw, crap. Forget it.”
The color in his face deepened as he glanced at the floor, all smugness gone. “Oh. Oh.” Adorable. He needed her help. Being in his arms earlier had been awkward, but the idea of kissing him appealed to her. She didn’t plan to stick around to see if he was a toad or a prince. It didn’t matter. Just a kiss… “I agree.”
His head snapped up. “With what?”
“A kiss isn’t too much to ask in return.”
“Um…” His Adam’s apple jerked as he swallowed hard. “Okay, good.” He took another deliberate step in her direction, cat-and-mouse style.
Her stomach somersaulted as she inched away. His eyes smoldered and the sexy, smug smile returned.
Apparently she was a sucker for Finn Hawkins’s smile.
By the time her back bumped into the tight corner by the sink, her knees were wobbling and her skin tingled. She set the container down. He planted his hands on the countertop, one on each side of her, stopping short of making body-to-body contact. He dipped his head forward, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling deeply. “Mmm. You smell delicious, Amelia.” She shivered.
He ran the tip of his tongue along the curve of her ear. “Last chance to change your mind,” he murmured.
Hell would have to freeze over before she’d deny herself his kiss. “Last chance to change your mind,” she countered.
A soft chuckle shook his lean, muscled frame as he eased against her.
Every nerve fired to attention. She lifted her chin and closed her eyes.
He brushed his lips over hers, a tentative touch, then hovered. “Arabica coffee.” He connected again, this time nibbling on her lower lip. “Bailey’s.”
She surged forward, initiating something far less hesitant, her tongue seeking entrance.
Which he denied. He trailed his mouth along her jawline, then nipped her earlobe. “Not so fast,” he murmured. “A kiss…a woman…is like a fine meal. Meant to be savored.”
“Mmm. Sometimes devouring a fine meal is better.”
He laughed, pulling back. “I think I could like you, Amelia No-Last-Name.”
She opened her eyes and grinned. “I think I could like you, too, Finn Hawkins. Now, about that kiss…” She clenched his T-shirt in both hands.
He pressed against her, reaching up to grip the back of her neck, and proceeded to kiss her. Thoroughly. Very, very thoroughly. Mint masked the lingering flavor of coffee. His mouth…his body…was warm, inviting. It had been way too long since she’d indulged herself, known the bliss of melting into a man.
Sometimes men had their uses.
Like now. She’d never see him again, so why not enjoy this “conception” at least a little?
Her pulse kicked up, and she slid her fingers down his chest, then gripped his belt loops, yanking him even closer. She arched her back, pressing her breasts against his cotton shirt.
“Take your shirt off,” she whispered. “I want to touch you.”
He groaned against her lips, grinding his arousal into her hip. He drew back to look at her. “You sure about that?”
“I can take the heat. Can you?” She popped the button on his jeans.
His eyes widened.
With a slow grin that mirrored the ones he’d been shooting her since she’d appeared on his front porch, she drew down his zipper, millimeter by millimeter. “Amelia—”
“You’re still wearing your shirt.” What he wasn’t wearing was anything under his jeans. She took him in her hand. Batteries not needed, for sure. Oh, yes. This was what she’d been missing. A warm, responsive, human connection.
He bucked, cursing a blue streak and yanking the T-shirt over his head. She let the fingers of her other hand wander the hard planes of his chest and ridged six-pack, the softness of his dark hair contrasting with the firm muscles beneath.
Rational thought fled as he reached under her turtleneck, skimming his palm up her stomach to caress her breast through her satin bra.
An unknown number of breath-stealing moments later, her shirt ended up bunched around her neck, her bra was unfastened, and Finn’s mouth—his warm, eager mouth—made the room spin as he feasted on her breasts. One of his hands slipped inside her low-rise jeans, inside her panties…and then inside her.
Damn. She moaned softly.
Finn struggled for control as Amelia stroked him. The woman’s response had shocked the hell out of him. He’d worried that asking for a kiss was too pushy. This…this had rocketed way past his meager hope, right into fantasy territory. With his thumb he caressed her, making her tremble and gasp.
“Amelia,” he groaned as her hand quickened its exquisite tempo. “I’m close.”
“Me, too,” she panted. “Please, Finn…”
Oh, hell, he’d warned her. No stopping now. He stroked her faster, harder, wholly focused on pushing her over the edge. When she gasped his name and pulsed in pleasure against his fingers, fire streaked up his spine, through his stomach…and he surrendered to pleasure.
She purred with contentment.
The afterglow lasted less than a minute.
“Oh, my God!” Amelia cried. “Oh, my God!”
Finn forced his eyes open, disentangling himself from her garments. “Yeah. I agree. Wow.”
“What have we done?”
&nbs
p; Rational thought slowly filtered into his rapidly thawing brain. “Uh-oh,” he muttered.
“Uh-oh?” She bit down on her lower lip before continuing. “That’s all you have to say?”
His gut tightened. “I, uh, gave you a heads-up. You were directing traffic, not me. My hands were full with…other things.”
Her jaw set. “You’re right. You did. I can’t believe I let myself get that carried away.”
“I can fix this.” He offered her a shaky grin as he zipped up. “Give me a half hour.”
She reached under her shirt, around her back, fumbling with her bra clasp.
Finn debated helping her, but she looked like she might strangle him if he touched her again. “I think I have all the inspiration I need.”
She thrust the container at him again, then grabbed her purse and sweater. “I’ll wait in my car.”
Regret coursed through him. “Avoiding temptation?”
She folded her arms over her chest. “I’m sorry I let myself get carried away.”
“I’m not.” Their brief encounter had been the most mind-blowing not-actual-sex of his life.
“Typical man.”
“What?”
“I said, ‘typical man.’ At least you didn’t ask if it was good for me.”
His pride wounded, Finn stepped deliberately close, lowered his head and his voice as he said, “I don’t have to ask, darlin’. I know it was.”
She blew out a long breath, then shook her head. “God save me from arrogant men. Fill the cup, hotshot. I’ll be in the car.”
WAITING IN THE VEHICLE, Amelia found her hands were still shaking a full ten minutes later. Not only had she gotten physically involved with her sperm donor, she’d managed to blow the opportunity to get what she—what Jordan—needed.
Inexcusable.What if the quality of his second sample wasn’t as good as the first? She thought she’d read something along those lines from some brochure in a fertility clinic waiting room—or maybe in some women’s magazine.
Amelia took a deep breath and settled back into the car seat.
She’d certainly gotten more than she’d bargained for. The physical attraction…she’d never experienced anything like that before. Plus he’d been tender.