The Baby Interview

by Robbie Terman

  Ten minutes and counting. She was reaching for her tinted moisturizer, the only makeup other than lip-gloss she wore, when the phone rang. Her hand froze midair.

  It was most likely Cole, calling to cancel. He'd probably realized rich CEOs didn't date their florists and was going to give her some lame excuse about why he couldn't make it. Trying to ignore the disappointment that settled in her stomach, she sat on the edge of the bed and reached for the receiver. “Hello."

  "Hey, sis."

  "Bennie!” She breathed a sigh of relief. “How are you doing, sweetie?"

  "I'm doing great, especially since I got your package today. Thanks."

  Even though Ben was twenty-one years old, she couldn't help thinking of him as the little boy she had practically raised single-handedly. Sending him monthly packages of treats and laundry money made her feel like she was still taking care of him, even though he was approaching his senior year at the University of Michigan.

  "You're welcome. And this time try not to use all the quarters on beer."

  Ben let out an outraged cry. “I would never use my laundry money on beer!"

  "Sure,” she teased. “I suppose that's why I was up to my ears in dirty clothes when you came home a couple of weeks ago."

  "The machine in our building was out of service. Listen, Luce, I've got some great news."

  Lucy glanced at her clock. She was going to be late if she didn't leave this minute, but that didn't matter. Ben was the most important person in the world to her. Mr. Cole Donovan—and those incredible dimples-would have to wait. “What is it, sweetie?"

  "You know Dr. Burke at the medical clinic where I've been working? Yesterday, he mentioned that he's a Stanford alumni and I told him that going to Stanford's medical school was my dream. He looked over my transcripts today and said he would help me get an interview and write me a recommendation. Isn't that amazing?"

  Lucy's heart dropped somewhere in the vicinity of her knees. She took a deep breath until she could speak without quivering. “Oh, Bennie, that's amazing. I'm so proud of you!"

  She fought the urge to ask if Dr. Burke's help included finding financial aid. She couldn't even begin to imagine how much medical school at Stanford cost.

  Their father had left a goodly sum in life insurance, but most of it had been eaten away by his medical bills. Everything that was left over was put toward Ben's undergraduate degree. Still, Lucy had done a lot of penny-pinching and dollar stretching, barely scraping by at times. There certainly wasn't anything left for medical school.

  "Of course I still have a few backups,” Ben continued. “But Stanford, Luce! It's what I've always dreamed of."

  "I know,” she whispered. Her heart tightened painfully at the thought that Ben's dream might be denied because she couldn't afford it. Forcing a cheerful note into her voice, she said, “Listen, Ben, I want to hear everything that's been going on, but I was just walking out the door. Can I call you tomorrow?"

  "Sure, sis. I want to tell you everything Dr. Burke said."

  "I can't wait. Bye, sweetie.” She hung up the phone and closed her eyes briefly, trying to put her money woes aside just for tonight.

  Lucy stood up and glanced again at the mirror. The woman staring back at her was unfamiliar. Hot. Bold. She was the opposite of the Lucy Chaple, who spent her days knee-high in flowers and her nights lying awake, wondering how she was going to fulfill her baby brother's dreams.

  If she only managed a date every four years, then she had to make this evening count. Tomorrow was soon enough to worry about paying for medical school. Tonight was for her.

  * * * *

  By the time Lucy stepped through the revolving doors of the elegant Woodward Bistro, her palms were sweating and her heart beat an incessant staccato. Her confident resolve had stumbled a bit when she gave her car over to the valet. The young attendant had given her ten-year-old minivan a long, smirking look and a well-dressed couple had been outright disdainful as they exited their shiny new Jaguar. It had shaken her a bit, another reminder that she was more a diner and deli girl than a five-course connoisseur.

  As she walked to the hostess stand, Lucy shook it off. Cole knew she was a florist, not a debutante, and he was still interested. He wouldn't care what she drove.

  An attractive middle-aged woman greeted her. “May I help you?"

  "Yes. I'm meeting Cole Donovan."

  Her smile brightened. “Yes, Ms. Chaple. Mr. Donovan is already here. I'll show you to his table."

  The woman's tone when she said his indicated Cole was a frequent diner here. Lucy wondered just how many women he had wooed at his table.

  She followed the hostess to the back of the restaurant and a private alcove with a quiet table for two. As soon as Cole spotted her, he stood. He looked her over and his face lit up with obvious appreciation.

  When she reached the table, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. His lips left a tingle in their wake. “Lucy, you look incredible."

  "So do you,” she breathed. Better than she remembered. He wore another fantastic suit, this one gray. The soft material had grazed her arm as he'd kissed her, and she'd fought the urge to cuddle against it. Now was the time to be coy, not to let him see how much he affected her. She took a step back, lest she catch another whiff of his woodsy cologne and lose her thread-thin control.

  He pulled a chair out for her and she slid in. “Thank you, Frances,” he said to the hostess.

  "Certainly, Mr. Donovan. May I get you anything while you wait for your server?"

  Cole shook his head, never taking his eyes off Lucy. “I have everything I need."

  Heat flared in Lucy's cheeks. Way to be cool, she scolded herself.

  But Cole just laughed. “I love how easily you blush."

  "I hate it,” Lucy admitted as Frances walked away. “I can never get away with anything. People can always tell exactly what I'm feeling."

  "That's what I like. Your honesty is written all over your face."

  All the awkwardness of their morning meeting seemed to disappear under his tender gaze. Her body relaxed and her heart returned to its normal beat. She picked up her menu and opened it as their waiter approached.

  "Good evening, Mr. Donovan,” the waiter said.

  "Good evening, Everett,” Cole replied. “This is Ms. Chaple."

  "Ma'am,” Everett responded with a nod.

  She murmured a greeting. Was Cole on a first-name basis with every employee?

  "May I take your drink order?” Everett asked.

  Lucy scanned the wine list on the first page of the menu. She'd had wine before and enjoyed it, but she had no idea what kind to order. She bit her lip, frantically trying to formulate a response that wouldn't make her sound like a country bumpkin.

  "How about a bottle of the reserve chardonnay?” Cole suggested, saving her from embarrassment.

  Lucy let out her breath. “Sounds perfect."

  After Everett left the table, Cole asked, “Have you eaten here before?"

  "No. I've heard the food is wonderful, though."

  "It is. I recommend the roast duck with a cherry glaze. It's the house specialty."

  "You're well-known here. Do you eat here often?"

  "A couple of times a week."

  "That good, huh?"

  "That good,” Cole confirmed. “And I'm one of the owners."

  Lucy's jaw dropped. She'd known Cole had money, but she hadn't known it was enough to finance this kind of restaurant.

  "A silent partner, really,” Cole amended. “A few years ago, I was approached with the opportunity at Donovan Management Group. My father was CEO at the time and passed on it, so I decided to do it on my own."

  She glanced around the room and noticed that every table was filled. “I guess it worked out for you."

  Cole grinned. “Pretty well. Although my father would die before he'd admit he made a mistake."

  Everett returned with their wine and, after Cole approved it, he poured them each a glass.

/>   Cole held up his glass. “To new beginnings."

  Lucy clinked her glass with his. “New beginnings."

  She knew she was blushing, but this time she didn't care. This evening was turning out better than she'd hoped. She'd expected an enjoyable night with a handsome man at a fancy restaurant, but with no real hope for a future. After all, she was carnations, he was long-stemmed roses. He was a Bloomfield Hills mansion, she was a Southfield split-level. He looked like he stepped out of a Hugo Boss ad, while she shopped almost exclusively at thrift stores. Two people couldn't have been more different.

  But when he looked at her like that, as if he was looking right inside her, all those disparities seemed to slip away. Suddenly Lucy knew she wanted more than just this one night with Cole.

  After they placed their orders—the duck for Lucy, as recommended—they chatted about everything from music to movies and politics to religion. Sometimes they agreed and other times they disagreed. Either way, Lucy couldn't remember the last time she'd had such stimulating conversation. As the meal came to an end and the two glasses of wine she'd drunk overcame her inhibitions, Lucy placed her hand on Cole's. “I had a really nice time tonight.” Enough that if you invited me back to your place, I would go.

  She sent the message telepathically, hoping he understood. As bold as she wanted to be, it would take a lot more than a few glasses of wine for her to say the words out loud. She was depending on him to ask.

  "I did, too.” Cole closed his hand around hers. “I think you're perfect."

  "You do?” Goose bumps shot down her arm as his thumb massaged her palm. She bit back a moan as she imagined him running his fingers over the rest of her body. Cupping her breasts, drifting down her belly, reaching the place where she already ached for him...

  "You're hired."

  Um ... huh? Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at his pleased expression. “I'm hired?"

  His grin widened, the dimple she loved deepening. What was happening? Obviously she had misunderstood. Hired for what?

  "You got the job. I want you to carry my child."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Two

  Cole couldn't keep the excitement out of his voice as he gave Lucy the good news. After two weeks of interviewing applicants to be the surrogate mother for his child, he had finally found the right person. Although the woman would not have any involvement in raising the child—he'd already had his attorney draw up the necessary papers—he still wanted to find someone to whom he felt a connection. And Lucy Chaple was that woman.

  He looked at Lucy's astonished expression, expecting any minute for her to sputter in thanks. What he wasn't expecting was a mouthful of wine to fly at his face.

  The liquid hit him dead on, stinging his eyes and dripping on his Armani suit. “Wow.” He picked up a napkin and patted his face dry. “I knew you'd be excited, but I wasn't expecting a shower of thanks."

  "Thanks!” Lucy's cheeks turned a blotched pink. “What the hell are you talking about? What do you mean you want me to have your baby?"

  "Just what I said. You're exactly what I've been looking for.” She had a clear combination of beauty and brains that was essential in the genetic makeup of his child. In fact, if he'd seen Lucy on a barstool on any other day, he'd be offering to buy her breakfast. It wasn't just the smokin’ hot body that had every male head in the restaurant turning away from their own dates. Her expressive brown eyes and wide smile lit up the dark room.

  Equally as important was personality. He liked the confident way she'd waltzed into his home without an appointment. He liked the way she called him on his behavior and stood up to him. And he liked that she'd shown up that morning in casual clothes, her blonde hair thrown up haphazardly, as if she wasn't trying to impress anyone. She was just being herself.

  They were far better qualities than his ex-wife would have contributed. He had been disappointed when Pam had suddenly refused to get pregnant, but he now knew it was for the best. The only attributes she could pass down were penchants for lying, cheating and spending obscene amounts of money.

  Minutes earlier, Lucy's easily blushing complexion had glowed warm and flawless in the candlelight. Now, her cheeks were an angry red. Tension crept into Cole's neck.

  "Is something wrong?” he asked.

  Thud. Thud. Thud. Her fingertips banged against the table like drumbeats in his ear. “Don't you think this is a little too serious of a subject for a first date?"

  "First date?” His first reaction was anger. Just because they had obvious chemistry and had hit it off, Lucy thought she could cash in. Just like Pam.

  It still pained Cole to remember what a fool he'd been. When he'd fallen in love with Pam in college, she was everything he'd thought he wanted. Beautiful, confident, independent. They'd had plans for the future, plans for a family. After their marriage, Pam announced she had no intention of having a child, and Cole began to see the kind of woman his wife really was. Their marriage had unraveled at a sonic rate.

  After the divorce, Cole took a hard look at his life. The one thing he knew he wanted was a child. But after his disaster of a marriage, he wasn't interested in getting involved with another woman who pretended to love him, but really loved his bank account.

  He pushed away his anger long enough to admit that he may have given Lucy the wrong impression about this evening. Obviously, he needed to make things clear. “Tonight was part of the interview."

  "What interview?” she screeched so loudly that other restaurant patrons actually turned to look.

  Cole put up a hand to calm her down. His dinner fell to the pit of his stomach and settled like an anchor at the bottom of a lake. “I was interviewing women to be a surrogate mother for my child today. Isn't that why you were there?"

  Lucy started to laugh, hollow and without humor. “I should have known. There's no way a man like you would have asked me out. I'm so stupid."

  "I don't understand."

  She heaved an exasperated sigh. “I was at your house to deliver flowers. I own Lily's Blooms. I'm your florist."

  He had no idea what she was talking about and told her so.

  "You have a standing order for three arrangements twice a week. Where'd you think the fresh flowers came from? Fantasyland?"

  "I never thought about it. My housekeeper, Mrs. Simms, handles all that stuff."

  She quirked her eyebrow, but there was still fire in her eyes. “Ah, yes. Mrs. Simms. If only I had found her first this morning, none of this would have happened. Well, from now on, I'll be sure to deal only with her."

  She started to rise, but Cole put a hand on her arm to stop her. Her skin beneath his fingertips puckered with goose bumps.

  "Please, Lucy, don't leave. I am so sorry about the misunderstanding. I honestly thought you were an applicant.” He didn't let go of her, afraid she would bolt.

  Interviewing eight possible surrogates had taught him that finding the wrong woman to bear his child was as easy as dumping a briefcase of money off the side of a building. But finding the right woman? He wasn't about to let her walk away.

  Jaw clenched, Lucy glanced toward the door, then at him. Just when Cole was sure he'd lost her, her jaw slackened and she sat down.

  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-price
d 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."

  Lucy stood so fast, her chair fell to the ground. Twirling around, she held her head high and walked out of the restaurant.

  Cole let her walk away. My God, she's magnificent.

  Instead of anger at her abrupt departure, he was impressed by her staunch—and vocal—denial of his offer. This was a woman who knew how to stand up for herself. When he'd set out to find a surrogate mother, Cole had been looking for individuality, spunk and just a bit of sass to make life more interesting. Lucy had already proven she had all three. Now he was even more convinced she was the perfect mother for his child.

  He didn't doubt for a second he could convince her to change her mind, and he wouldn't even think less of her when she did. He knew better than anyone that money talked. That anything or anyone could be bought.

  Lucy Chaple was going to be the mother of his child. All he had to do was convince her.

  * * * *

  "Ouch!"

  Lucy threw the offending rose on the floor and held her bleeding finger to her lips. The prick from the tiny thorn closed quickly enough, but her foul behavior wasn't soothed as easily. Just for good measure, she stomped on the flower, imaging the petals were Cole Donovan's face.

  "Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

  Lucy recognized her best friend's voice before she even looked up. Sarah Kirby stood in the doorway of the back room of Lily's Blooms, a smile on her face.

  Heat rose to Lucy's cheeks at being caught in such childish behavior. “I didn't get up on the wrong side of the bed, but I did spend Saturday night on the wrong side of the tracks."