by Gina Wilkins
“That makes perfect sense to me. I’ve felt that way many times.”
He nodded. “So you understand that my first reaction when you made your request this morning was negative. It seemed as though you were asking me to take on the responsibility for two more people—a child and its mother.”
That brought her chin up. “I thought I made it clear that I take care of myself—just as I intend to take care of my child.”
Geoff held up a hand in a conciliatory gesture. “I said it seemed that way at first. The more I thought about it, the more I decided I believed you when you said you had no ulterior motives.”
She wasn’t sure if she was pleased that he had come to that conclusion or still rather insulted that he’d ever doubted her. “You decided correctly.”
“I’m prepared to help you get what you want, but not quite the way you outlined it this morning. I have a couple of conditions of my own.”
She frowned warily. “I told you this morning that I’m prepared to sign anything you want. Have your attorneys draw something up, if you like. I don’t want a penny of your—”
He shook his head and held up a hand again, looking impatient this time. “Just listen, okay?”
Clenching her hands in her lap, she nodded.
Geoff rested his forearms on his thighs as he leaned even closer to her, his expression grave. “Women aren’t the only ones with biological clocks, you know. I wouldn’t mind having a kid, either, preferably while I’m still young enough to throw a ball or go for a hike or teach my child to swim and ride a bike. And since I’m in no hurry to marry—and I don’t see that changing in the foreseeable future—your idea sounds like a solution for both of us.”
She could feel the tension mounting inside her as she considered the ramifications of his words.
“I don’t want to make a child and then walk away from it, in fact, there’s no way I’m going to do that. But what I would consider is a joint custody arrangement. We have a child, and we raise it together…sort of.”
“That isn’t—” she cleared her throat “—that isn’t at all what I had in mind.”
“I know. You were hoping to raise this child completely on your own. I think I’ve made it clear I’m not interested in that sort of arrangement. But think about it, Cecilia. I’m offering the best of both worlds. A father for your child—an active father, not just a sperm donor. Financial assistance. Someone to turn to when you need to talk about a problem.”
“But I—”
“I wouldn’t interfere with your personal life,” he assured her quickly. “And I’m still going to be on the road a lot—that’s the nature of my job—so you’ll still have the bulk of the day-to-day responsibilities of child rearing. But I can promise that any time you need me—any time my child needs me—I’ll move heaven and earth to be there.”
Her fingers knotted, causing her knuckles to ache with the strain. “I don’t know, Geoff. What you’re suggesting means you and I would be involved, at least in some ways, for a long time.”
“Eighteen years, at a minimum,” he agreed evenly, and she noticed that his left hand went to the back of his neck in the gesture she already recognized signaled his tension. This wasn’t easy for him, either, she realized. “When you think about it, it’s not really much different from divorced parents who come to an amicable agreement about joint custody. It’s actually better for us, because we’d skip the ugly fighting and breaking-up phases and go straight to the point where we work out a plan that’s best for our child.”
Our child. The words seemed to echo in the room, and for the first time it felt as though they were discussing more than a hypothetical possibility. This was real, she thought dazedly—or it could be. He was offering her exactly what she wanted, though certainly with a few complications she hadn’t expected. And now she wondered if she had let impulse lead her into making a huge mistake.
“Well?” Geoff prompted, studying her face as if trying to read her thoughts.
She gazed back at him and suddenly found herself picturing a little boy with Geoff’s clear hazel eyes and thick, brown hair. A little boy who would probably love to have a dad—just as Eric would have given anything as a boy to have a father in his life, she realized abruptly.
Maybe she had been selfish in wanting to deny her baby a father. And yet she doubted that Geoff would be as actively involved as he rashly predicted in the excitement of the moment. Once the novelty of the idea wore off and the reality of diapers and colic and tantrums and daily worries set in, Geoff would probably disappear—as had the men in her past. As he’d said himself, he traveled a lot, anyway, so she wouldn’t have to worry about him being too visible in her life. And she would have the baby she had dreamed of for so long.
She couldn’t deny that Geoff’s genes were certainly arranged in a spectacular pattern, she thought, eyeing him with a silent sigh.
“This is the only deal I can offer,” Geoff said when she continued to stare at him. “We compromise—or we forget the whole thing.”
Finding her voice, she asked quietly, “You really think I would be a good mother? The kind of mother you would want to raise your child?”
For the first time since he’d appeared on her pathway, he smiled. “I have no doubt that you will be a wonderful mother. You helped raised Eric, didn’t you? He certainly turned out okay.”
Geoff seemed to know every one of her weaknesses. A compliment about her little brother was guaranteed to work with her every time.
Maybe she should be worried that he seemed to know her so well after so short a time. But the truth was she felt strangely the same way about him. For some reason they understood each other. Had from the beginning. Their friendship was new, but it had gotten off to a wonderful start. And suddenly it didn’t seem like such a bad idea to be friends with her child’s father.
“I, um, suppose you want to think about this a bit longer. Before we actually commit to anything, I mean,” she said.
“I’ll be in town for about another month, and then I’ll have to take off on business again. I’m not sure when I’ll be back. So unless you want to wait until my next trip home—”
“I’m tired of waiting,” Cecilia said with feeling. “It feels like I’ve been waiting forever.”
Geoff stood and walked slowly toward her chair. “You realize, of course, that it sometimes takes a while to get results with this sort of thing.”
She rose to gaze up at him. “Yes, I’m aware of that.”
“I tend to be an overachiever when I’m working toward a goal. Single-minded, almost.”
“I’ve been accused of being the same,” she admitted, tilting her head back as he moved even closer, so that he towered over her.
He lifted a hand to her cheek, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. “Just so you’ll know, I’m willing to give this my best effort. As often as possible—as many times as it takes.”
Her smile felt a bit shaky. Uncharacteristically shy. “That’s very noble of you.”
His other hand rose so that he was cupping her face between his palms. He leaned so close to her that she could feel his breath ruffling her hair when he murmured, “I just wanted to reassure you that you’ve picked the right guy for the job.”
Before she could tell him that she had already reached that conclusion for herself, his mouth was on hers.
The heavy wooden door to Geoff’s condominium loomed in front of Cecilia later that evening. Because of the impressive security in the building, he knew she had arrived, but she hesitated before ringing the bell. It felt like her last chance to change her mind and make a dash for sanity, but when it came right down to it, she just didn’t want to go.
She had been perfectly willing for Geoff to simply stay at her place earlier. She would have prepared a meal for them—spaghetti, maybe, or a quick casserole—followed by…well, by the first step in their get-Cecilia-pregnant campaign. But Geoff had vetoed that plan, insisting, to her surprise, that he would cook for her, in
stead. At his place.
He had explained that he wanted this night to be special. Cecilia had wondered then, as she wondered now, if he had really been giving her time to rethink her decision. To change her mind, if she wanted. By having her come to his place, he was giving her the option to leave whenever she wanted.
She smoothed her hands down the sides of the mid-calf-length black knit skirt she had paired with a sleeveless top in a purple-and-black geometric print. Her freshly washed hair was pinned up into a neat roll, and she had applied her makeup very carefully. Quite a contrast to her disheveled and rather grubby appearance earlier, she decided in satisfaction.
He’d caught her off guard earlier, but this time she was prepared. No more stammering or blushing. Her intention now was to act like the mature, competent, confident woman her carefully groomed exterior proclaimed her to be. She was a woman with a plan, and she would not allow last-minute qualms to get in her way.
Squaring her shoulders and holding her chin high, she reached out to ring his bell with a proudly steady hand.
Geoff opened the door. One look at him standing there in a crisp white shirt and beautifully tailored dark slacks made her mouth go dry. And now her hands were trembling. So much for calm and composure, she thought with a silent sigh of exasperation.
He gave her a smile that made her heart race even faster. “You look beautiful.”
With an inward struggle for composure, she said, “Thank you.”
Stepping back, he motioned her inside. “Come in. Dinner’s almost ready.”
She looked around with discreet curiosity as she entered his home. She had never visited one of these exclusive condominiums before. From the spectacular mountain view to the obviously professionally decorated interior, the condo spoke of money and social status. It was a very different setting from her modest little middle-class house, but she still preferred her own home.
There was something rather cold and impersonal about Geoff’s condo. It felt like…well, like a hotel room, she decided, glancing at a vase full of neatly arranged, hothouse flowers.
Because etiquette demanded it, she said, “This is very nice.”
“Thanks. But to be honest, I’ve had very little to do with it. I’m not here enough to put much of myself into the place.”
Glancing again around the cream-on-cream room with its elegant touches of gleaming woods, polished brass and green-veined marble, she asked curiously, “What would you change if you could put yourself into it?”
Geoff raised his eyebrows as if he’d never actually asked himself that question before. “I, um, well, I guess it would look a bit more like your place.”
She was tempted to roll her eyes. “You would fill your fancy condo with secondhand furniture and handmade decorations?”
“I would try to make it look like a home,” he corrected her, “and not just a designer’s showcase.”
She smiled at him. “I’m pretty sure that was a compliment.”
“It was meant to be.”
A timer buzzed in another room. Geoff turned in that direction. “I’d better take care of that.”
“Can I help?”
“You can keep me company while I finish up.”
She followed him into a black granite and stainless steel kitchen that looked as though it belonged in a magazine dedicated to gourmet cuisine. This room, at least, showed signs of use. Pots simmered on the six-burner stove, utensils were scattered on the counters, and something had been spilled on the stone floor.
Geoff spotted the spill at the same time she did. He grabbed a paper towel and bent to wipe it up. “I tend to be sort of messy when I cook,” he said as he straightened.
“Whatever you’ve prepared, it smells heavenly.”
He opened the oven door. “Rosemary chicken, rice with almonds and peas, orange-glazed carrots and crusty wheat rolls. I bought the rolls, by the way. They’re the heat-and-serve kind.”
“Everything sounds delicious. Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?”
“You can grab that basket of rolls and follow me.”
He led her into a small but elegant dining room, and once again she was struck by how much trouble he had gone to for her this evening. Candles burned on the table and on an antique sideboard she’d have given her eyeteeth for. Mounds of fresh flowers had been arranged in crystal bowls. The table was perfectly set with snowy linens, white china and gleaming silver.
A housekeeper? she wondered. Or had he done all of this himself?
Geoff moved to hold her chair for her, and she was romantic enough to be touched by his efforts. It was a scene set for seduction, made even more special because it hadn’t been necessary. The outcome of this evening was pretty much a sure thing—and would have been even if their meal had consisted of burgers from a fast-food drive-through.
Geoff seemed completely comfortable during their meal. The perfect host, charming, witty and relaxed. Oddly enough, Cecilia grew more nervous as the evening progressed. Because he had gone to the trouble of providing brandied fruits for dessert, she accepted a dish, but she could eat only a few bites.
“Is something wrong, Cecilia?”
She looked up from her barely touched fruit to give Geoff a smile that she hoped looked more natural than it felt. “Not at all. I’m just getting full. Dinner was excellent, by the way. You’re a very good cook.”
“Thank you. My repertoire is a bit limited, but my mother made sure I knew my way around a kitchen. Even though we had cooks and housekeepers while I was growing up, Mom said everyone should be able to prepare a meal, sew on a button and run a vacuum cleaner.”
“Your mother was a very practical woman.”
“Yes, she was. It was important to her that Mari and I would not grow up spoiled, even if we were fortunate enough to have a privileged upbringing. She was determined that we would understand exactly how lucky we were, so we spent every Christmas helping her with her charity projects. Working in soup kitchens, delivering food baskets and toys to homes that were little more than drafty shacks, visiting nursing homes and hospital wards.”
“We had a tradition in our family, too,” Cecilia mused. “We each contributed money from our allowances and paychecks to donate to the homeless shelter each Christmas. We usually had a rather modest holiday, ourselves, but Mother wanted us to understand that there were always people who had less.”
“Your mother must have worked very hard to support you and your brother.”
“Too hard,” Cecilia admitted with a sigh. “It seemed as if she was always working. After my father died so young and Eric’s worthless father took off before Eric was even born, Mother decided she couldn’t depend on anyone ever again. Except me, of course. By the time I was twelve, I was responsible for Eric’s care. I fed him, bathed him, dressed him, read him his bedtime stories, tucked him into bed. I’m sure that’s why I still tend to be overly maternal with him, giving him entirely too much advice and too many unsolicited opinions.”
“I have a feeling he is more appreciative of your concern for him than resentful.”
“Most of the time, yes. He lets me know when I cross the line into meddling—not that I always take the hint,” she added with a faint smile.
“Who took care of him while you were in school?”
“A series of baby-sitters and day-care providers. The best care Mother could arrange for him.”
“I want to assure you that you’ll never have to work that hard to support our child. I’ll make sure of that.”
Cecilia set her dessert fork down abruptly, making no further pretense at eating. “I told you, I’m not after your money. That has absolutely nothing to do with my reasons for asking you to help me.”
He already had a hand up to appease her. “I wasn’t implying anything about your motives. I simply wanted to remind you again that I’m not anything like Eric’s father. I won’t leave you to shoulder the financial burdens alone, and my child won’t have to grow up with the knowledge that his father h
ad no interest in him.”
Cecilia shifted restlessly in her chair. “I suppose I have been a bit selfish in that respect. I know the ideal situation is to provide two caring parents for a child. But I’ve already explained that the clinic day-care center will let me be more visible and active than my mother was able to be with Eric. And the child will have Eric and Hannah and their baby for extended family. An uncle, an aunt and a playmate.”
“Now he—or she—will also have a devoted father. Another aunt. A grandfather and a great-grandmother. Family he’ll share with Eric’s child, of course, since Hannah is my cousin. It’s a bit convoluted, but I believe we can make this work. I know it isn’t what you had in mind originally, but surely you can see it’s better for everyone involved, especially the child.”
“Once I get past my knee-jerk reluctance to share my baby with anyone, I do see the advantages,” she admitted.
His smile could almost be described as sweet—if such a flowery adjective could be applied to a man so undeniably virile and masculine. “I won’t ever try to take your child away from you, Cecilia. We’re partners in this adventure, not competitors. And I’ll sign anything you like to set your mind at ease about that.”
She gave a self-conscious little laugh. “Stop reading my mind. I suppose it does concern me a bit that our social and financial circumstances are so different. It gives you advantages that I can’t help but be nervous about.”
“I won’t abuse your trust in me,” he vowed again. “I’m sure we’ll have some disagreements about child rearing—we’re both the independent and assertive types, or we wouldn’t be so successful in our respective careers—but we’ll work everything out to our mutual satisfaction. I can negotiate and make compromises when I’m working toward something important.”