The Baby Interview

by Robbie Terman

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  The Wild Rose Press

  www.thewildrosepress.com

  Copyright ©2009 by Robbie Terman

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  The Baby Interview

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Epilogue

  * * * *

  Cole fought the urge to sigh with relief. He didn't know what was going through her mind, but if he was going to convince her to carry his child, he had to put on his business face and close the deal.

  "Again, I'm sorry.” He took her small, calloused hand between his large, smooth ones. “But I think we can work out a mutually beneficial agreement."

  "What?"

  He took the piece of paper with a figure he had worked out earlier from his pocket and slid it to Lucy. “I think this would be a fair amount for your service. Of course, I'll pay for all your medical needs, as well as a clothes and food allowance on top of this figure."

  Lucy didn't even touch the paper. Her eyes narrowed into snakelike slits. “So, when are we going to start on your little high-priced bun? Tonight? Your place or mine?"

  "Actually"—he cleared his throat—"We'd start with you being examined by a doctor, having some tests run. If everything comes out clean, we'll arrange a date for the insemination. Everything will take place in a doctor's office."

  She chuckled that awful hollow laugh again. “How neat for you."

  Reaching for the paper he'd set in front of her, she finally opened it. Her eyes bugged out of her head like a cartoon character when she saw the figure. Triumph raced through him.

  For a split second.

  Until she ripped the paper up and threw a handful of tiny bits in his face. “No thanks, Rumpelstiltskin. I think I'll keep my firstborn."

  The Baby Interview

  by

  Robbie Terman

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  The Baby Interview

  COPYRIGHT ©

  2008 by Robbie Terman

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

  Cover Art by Kim Mendoza

  The Wild Rose Press

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Champagne Rose Edition, 2009

  Print ISBN 1-60154-479-0

  Published in the United States of America

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Dedication

  My thanks and love to Liz Heiter, Jaime Saal,

  Julie Lepsetz Gabe and Esi Akaah.

  You've been inspiring and encouraging

  me since elementary school.

  No matter how far apart we are,

  our friendship continues to stand

  the test of time and still grows stronger.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter One

  "I wasn't expecting you."

  Lucy Chaple heard the deep voice behind her as she stood in the grand foyer of the Bloomfield Hills mansion and bit back a sharp retort. She hadn't expected to be there either, but her irresponsible deliveryman had left her high and dry and with a minivan full of flowers that needed to be delivered. However, experience had taught her that customers, especially rich ones, didn't care about the trials and tribulations of running a business. So, she pasted on her customer-friendly smile and turned.

  Mesmerized, she stared at the handsome face framed with short, dark hair. Tanned skin suggested he had recently been somewhere other than here in Michigan where the June weather had been unseasonably cool up until a week ago. He had a flawless face that could give any model a run for his money, but it was his eyes that caused her pulse to quicken and her mouth to dry.

  The sky on a perfect summer day. That image ran through her mind as their gazes locked. Bright, cloudless, clear. Endless.

  Lucy licked her lips, trying to regain enough moisture to speak. Could this be the owner of the mansion? He seemed too young, perhaps only five or six years older than her twenty-six. With a swift glance, she checked his hand for the telltale wedding band, but it was bare.

  "Ma'am, are you okay?"

  The rich timber of his voice sent an electric current down her spine. Okay, Luce. Get a grip! This wasn't the first good-looking—okay, drop dead gorgeous—man she'd ever seen. She had to stop gawking like a thirteen-year-old girl at a rock concert.

  "Ma'am?” He stepped toward her. Despite the eighty-degree weather, he wore a pinstriped suit that looked as if it cost more than her car.

  Self-consciously, Lucy smoothed a hand over her worn T-shirt and jeans. The outfit was practical for working in a flower shop, but it certainly wasn't going to win her any beauty contests. Mr. Pinstriped, though, was a contender for Mr. America. Lucy fanned herself with a hand, wondering if the temperature had just spiked fifty degrees.

  "I'm fine,” she managed. Her voice sounded husky to her own ears. Her cheeks burned, and she despised how her pale skin showcased even the slightest bit of embarrassment. She mustered her most professional voice and stuck out a hand. “I'm Lucy Chaple."

  He immediately placed his smooth, warm hand in hers. “I'm Cole Donovan."

  "Mr. Donovan—"

  "Cole,” he interrupted.

  "Cole,” she tried out. She liked the way his name sounded on her tongue. “I know you weren't expecting me, but..."

  She got ready to explain how her usual deliveryman, the person he'd obviously been expecting, had quit without notice. For the tenth time that day—at least!—she felt her blood boil at the mere thought of it. As the owner of Lily's Blooms, the flower shop named after her mother, she had enough to do without adding delivery-woman to the list. Saturday was one of her busiest days, though, so she hadn't been able to spare her two best floral designers. Nor did she risk sending her seventeen-year-old counter girl, Lizzie, who had failed the driver's test three times.

  "It's okay,” he soothed, before she could explain. “Whatever brought you here, I'm glad."

  "I'm surprised to meet you, actually. I expected to be dealing with your housekeeper.” At least, that's what her former driver's delivery notes had indicated. He'd written that the biweekly Donovan order was to be brought through the back door and the delivery slip signed by one Mrs. Simms. Right now there were three huge bouquets of flowers sitting in the kitchen.

  Cole laughed. “I trust Mrs. Simms implicitly, but this is something I'm handling on my own."

  "In that case...” She reached into her back pocket for the delivery slip.

  Before she could gi
ve it to him, Cole said, “Why don't we sit on the back porch and have some refreshments while we get to know one another better?"

  O-kay. She had only been a delivery girl for a few hours, but she was pretty sure it didn't usually involve “refreshments” with the customer. At the same time, it seemed impossible that this rich, far-too-handsome man was interested in her. Uncertainty washed over her. The logical part of her brain pointed out that she had several more deliveries, and she really needed to get back to the flower shop. The emotional part of her pointed out that there were few rich and handsome men around, and none of them wanted to get to know her better. Then he smiled. A dimple appeared in his left cheek, and her heart pitter-pattered like a newly walking child.

  Her emotional side easily won out.

  "I'd love some iced tea if you've got it,” she said.

  "Absolutely.” He moved to the wall and hit the button on an intercom. “We'd like some iced tea on the patio, please.” He turned back to Lucy. “Follow me.” He started through the house, giving her a better glimpse of his domain.

  The furnishings looked more appropriate for the Museum of Modern Art than a home. Straight lines, sparsely decorated. The walls were white and illuminated by industrial-looking lights. The pristine furniture looked barely used. It was not the sort of place to kick up your feet and watch the big game. It was certainly a far cry from the conglomeration of mismatched furniture in her house.

  Lucy followed Cole out French doors onto a large brick patio showcasing the most magnificent panoramic view she had ever seen.

  In the distance, Pine Lake rippled softly against the shoreline. Full evergreen trees lined the edge of the estate, providing privacy from the neighbors. Lush grass ran from the dock overlooking the lake up to a cement rectangle abutting the brick patio. In the center was an Olympic-sized pool and hot tub.

  Lucy tried not to gape as Cole led her to the table and chairs at one end of the patio. There was a waiting pitcher of iced tea—his staff was clearly efficient—and he poured each of them a glass as she sat down.

  He sat across from her and stared at her face, as if memorizing her features. His intensity unnerved her, but after the obvious inspection she had given him, it seemed only fair. When she could no longer bear the scrutiny, she searched for conversation.

  "You have a beautiful home. You must entertain a lot."

  He shrugged. “Mainly for business."

  Wondering what job could provide this lifestyle for someone as young as Cole, she asked, “What kind of business are you in?"

  "I own a company that builds and manages commercial properties. But enough about me. I'm more interested in you. Tell me about your family."

  A fist clenched tightly around her heart. “Both my parents passed away. It's just me and my younger brother, Ben.” She tried to keep the tremble out of her voice. “It's a little painful to talk about."

  "I'm sorry. How did your parents pass?"

  Obviously, her comment that the subject was painful for her hadn't fazed him. Uncomfortable by his persistence in asking about memories she'd rather keep buried, Lucy shifted in her seat. She wasn't used to exposing her deepest feelings to a virtual stranger and she was surprised he would even ask. Handsome as Cole was, that didn't make up for a defective personality.

  Still, it wasn't as if the information was a secret, so she tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he just wasn't good at the dating game. Lord knew she hadn't had much practice.

  "My mother died in a car accident when I was thirteen. My father died of lung cancer two years ago."

  Cole frowned. “Does cancer run in your family?"

  "No.” Lucy returned a frown of her own. “He smoked a pack a day for thirty years.” She looked in amazement at the pen in his hand and a notepad she hadn't noticed before on the table. “Are you writing this down?"

  Cole shrugged without apology. “I want to make sure I have all the information correct. You don't mind, do you?"

  Mind being interviewed like a mail-order bride? Cole Donovan might be one of the best looking—no, the best-looking man she had ever seen-but it didn't take a rocket scientist to see why his fourth finger was ringless. If this was his idea of wooing a girl, then he needed some serious lessons.

  Lucy stood and backed away from the table. “I think it's time for me to leave.” She spun around and headed toward the door. Just as she stepped inside, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She didn't turn around.

  "Lucy, I'm sorry."

  Reluctantly, she shifted to face him. Whatever she thought of him as a person, he was still a good customer whose business she didn't want to lose. She forced a smile. “No need to apologize. I hope this won't affect our business relationship."

  Cole smiled broadly at her words. “I was hoping you'd say that. And I really am sorry. You're right, that note-taking business was uncalled for. We should get to know each other the old-fashioned way.” He stepped closer. “Have dinner with me tonight. No notes, I promise."

  That was definitely not the request she'd expected from him. It was on the tip of her tongue to decline, but she couldn't get the words out. Not with him standing so close she could feel the heat from his body. Then she made the mistake of looking into his blue eyes, and she lost herself in their depths. It had been so long since any man had made her heart skip a beat. Maybe he deserved a second chance.

  "Okay.” The agreement was out of her mouth before she realized she'd spoken.

  His dimple reappeared. “Great. How about Woodward Bistro? I'll pick you up at seven."

  "I'll meet you there at seven,” she amended, trying to get her equilibrium back. It never hurt to have a getaway car on a first date.

  "See you tonight."

  She walked back through the house and out the kitchen door. As she drove down the long driveway, she realized she had forgotten to have Cole sign the delivery slip. Oh, well, she thought; it wasn't like he was going to deny receiving the flowers. Today had been an encounter neither one of them was likely to forget.

  * * * *

  At a quarter past six that evening, Lucy stood in front of her closet in just her practical white cotton bra and panties and started to regret her impulse to meet Cole. She needed to leave her house in Southfield by six forty-five in order to make it to the Woodward Bistro by seven, and she had tried on nearly everything in her closet.

  With an annoyed sigh, she started again at one end and pulled out each garment. Jeans, jeans, khakis, jeans. She discarded each on the large, four-poster bed that had once belonged to her parents, and lamented the pitiful state of her wardrobe.

  When Lucy was starting middle school and beginning to think maybe boys didn't have cooties after all, her mother had died. Without anyone to take her dress shopping or teach her how to put on makeup, Lucy had become a tomboy by default.

  That was just fine with her. Pants were way more comfortable than a skirt. And who needed pantyhose? In her opinion, pantyhose were the twenty-first century's corset. A device designed to torture women purely for the benefit of men. No thank you! She'd stick with jeans and a comfortable T-shirt. Short-sleeved in summer. Long-sleeved in winter.

  Except...

  Woodward Bistro was a four-star restaurant she'd never been to before, but she was pretty sure her jeans and T-shirt weren't going to impress anyone. Getting kicked out of the fanciest restaurant in town would be a wonderful start to her first date in—gulp—four years.

  She glanced at the clock again. Great. Six twenty-two. She reached for the phone on her nightstand, about to concede defeat and cancel, when a garment bag in the back of her closet caught her eye.

  She walked back to the closet and picked up the bag. After laying it on her bed, she unzipped it and pulled out the contents—an ankle-length, red silk dress with spaghetti straps. It was the bridesmaid's dress she was supposed to have worn to her college roommate's wedding three years ago. The morning of the wedding, her father had been hospitalized after a bad reaction to the chemo, and she
had never made it to the ceremony. The garment bag had been gathering dust in the closet ever since.

  It probably won't even fit, she told herself. But she slipped it over her head anyway, trying not to notice how sensuous the silk felt against her skin as the material floated down around her. Stepping in front of the full-length mirror, she saw her image and gasped.

  This couldn't possibly be her. The face was the same. Round and pale, her nose a little too pert for her taste, brown eyes, blonde hair. But her body. My God, it was as if she was seeing herself for the first time. Her utilitarian clothes had always made her believe that she not only wore boyish clothes, but she also had a boy's body. She would never believe that again.

  The dress hugged her curves, showing off her thin waist and curvy hips. A slit on the right side showcased the muscled calf she had earned after nearly four years of being on her feet at work all day. And her breasts. They actually did exist! The cinched bodice pushed what she had together and, for the first time in her life, created cleavage.

  The dress looked better than she remembered, but did she really have the guts to wear it? Her mind drifted back to Cole, looking so incredible in his suit this morning. She bet he was going to wear something just as spectacular tonight. As she eyed the choices strewn across the bed, the answer was obvious. She could look like she was on her way to a tractor pull or she could knock Cole's socks off.

  Or maybe she could knock something else off. Lucy grinned and fanned herself with one hand. Oh, yeah. Definitely too long since her last date.

  Now what to do with my hair, she mused, re-examining herself in the mirror. Her blonde hair fell just past her shoulders. A few months ago, her hairdresser had talked her into getting layers and bangs. It didn't really matter, though. It was a rare day when she wore her hair in anything other than a ponytail.

  Another glance at the clock told her she didn't have time—or the know-how—to try and style it. She pulled her hair back, but rolled it into a bun, rather than her usual look.