Experiment In Love

by Clay Estrada, Rita

  J.T. made a choking noise deep in his throat. “I think anyone could sell you anything if it was wrapped up nice enough. Apparently this girl has pretty paper and her ribbons are in the right places. That doesn’t mean the contents are top quality.”

  “It does in this case.” Mike was stubborn. “This woman isn’t like most. She’s different”

  J.T. stood. “We’ll see.” His determination to expose the woman was almost as strong as his desire to stop his brother from participating in this crazy scheme. And now there was the added bonus of proving to Mike just how faulty his character judgment was . . . again.

  He could get Brandon out of the contract, there was no problem there. But the challenge of the situation was just too strong to be turned down. He would try to persuade her to do things his way; then, when the time was right and before any harm was done, he would walk away, leaving her high and dry. She would lose, Mike would lose, and he would get Brandon out of a scrape in a way that might prove entertaining.

  J.T. Cole walked out of the plush law offices of his boyhood friend, practically marched to the elevators, and jabbed the down button.

  Thoughts seared through his brain with lightning-fast speed. His mother would be crushed by Brandon’s behavior, despite the fact that she had made him the spoiled youngest child of the Cole family. His other three brothers would have very different reactions, ranging from haughty anger to snickering approval. But it was his father he was really worried about. His father had a tricky heart, as had been proven time and again by small attacks after every one of Brandon’s escapades. This latest problem, coming as a total surprise to the rest of the family and involving the one thing their family held dear— children—could do their father enough harm to provoke a major attack.

  Damn Brandon!

  Five sons and one daughter were the firm foundation of the Cole family. One word could best be used to describe them—they were all overachievers . . . except for Brandon. In earlier days Brandon had been laughingly referred to as “Brandon the Lazy,” for if he thought there was a way to make money without working, Brandon would work twice as hard at it as any legitimate job would have demanded to achieve that goal.

  J.T. stepped aboard the elevator when the doors finally opened. The funny side of the situation was beginning to make itself known. His anger had even simmered down enough to let him appreciate the insinuating looks of the two secretaries who were traveling down to street level with him. Before he stepped off he gave each of them a warm smile, showing to advantage the curl of his upper lip and the fullness of his chiseled mouth.

  It would work out. He’d play her along, like he had often done with catfish on the hook when he went fishing. Mike had inadvertently disclosed the hotel she had chosen to stay at, which should make her easy to find, since single women staying there weren’t that plentiful. It should be simple to spot her, especially if he could get a description of her from Brandon. Brandon was always easy to pump for answers, perhaps because he had always been rewarded for giving them. And right now he wanted out of this situation. He must, or he wouldn’t finally have “confessed” to J.T.

  Suddenly J.T. felt like whistling. He had almost forgotten that he had a date to take Candice out that night. She was easy on the eye but undemanding enough to allow him to think of other, more important things while he entertained her. Perhaps he’d take her to the Utah Hotel for dinner

  Caro’s first thought after she walked through the heavy glass doors of Salt Lake City’s most famous hotel was that he looked so young! She quickly scanned the plush lobby, searching for some other young man in faded jeans and an even more faded green knit shirt who could fit the description her attorney had given her, but there was no one else who looked even remotely similar.

  He was slumped against one of the huge gray marble pillars, looking like an imitation of Samson holding up the mezzanine with his muscled, athletic body. His expression showed him to be filled with both worry and youthful impatience.

  She took a deep breath and approached him, knowing that her calm exterior would hide her nervousness. “Brandon Cole?” she questioned. Standing before him in her tottery high heels she came, just barely, to the level of his broad shoulders.

  She held out her hand, determined to keep control of the interview. “I’m Carolyn.” His young face was blank, with only a flicker of interest in his pale brown eyes to show that he even noticed the petite but intensely feminine woman standing in front of him. “I’m the person you came here to meet,” she reminded him with a touch of dryness in her tone.

  He flushed a dull red, standing straighter instead of slouching, suddenly showing the uneasiness she had expected all along.

  His hand was cold and clammy, his clasp weak. Not good, but not an inherited trait. She turned and scanned the lobby for a private conversational area, and found one immediately.

  “Shall we sit over here?” She guided him to the spot she had selected. Was she going to have to guide him every step of the way? She hoped not! She wasn’t that familiar with the ways of sin herself!

  He gestured nervously, the sweep of his hand encompassing the entire lobby, with its marble, its plush red-velvet draperies, and its Persian carpets. It was the oldest hotel in Salt Lake City and certainly one of the finest, almost as revered a landmark as the Mormon Temple and grounds across the street “Beautiful hotel.” His voice was an octave higher than it had sounded on the telephone earlier.

  “Yes, it is, isn’t it?”

  Perhaps he needed a little time to get his bearings. “Did you bring the papers from Dr. Sanders?”

  He reached into the back pocket of his faded jeans, pulled out a folded sheet of paper, and offered it to her, his eyes lighting on her face for the first time since they had introduced themselves. His eyes seemed to take in her appearance all at once. Her dark golden-blond hair was loose, hanging in waves to her shoulders and framing her oval face. Her silvery brown eyes were delicately tinted with the same color eye shadow, making her seem slightly mysterious. Her figure, although she was small in stature, was perfectly formed.

  “Why are you doing this?” He sounded perplexed, inquisitive. “You’re good-looking for an older woman. You certainly have more going for you than most of the girls I know. Charm, polish, a sexy body. Any guy’d be crazy not to want to fall into bed with you. Why me?”

  She mentally winced at his crudeness, especially the “older woman” comment. But from his youthful point of view, she was over the hill. Ouch.

  The paper remained folded on her hand for a moment while she took another deep breath. He deserved an answer. Besides, he might as well know now, since it looked as if he was her best choice.

  She ignored her own trepidation. After all her hours of intense soul-searching, this was the only answer she had come up with. It didn’t matter that she had doubts herself. It was the end result that mattered most. She would finally have a family to call her own.

  “First of all, this is to be done by artificial insemination, so no one has to ‘fall into bed’ with anyone. But, to answer the rest of your question, I’m thirty-five years old and I’ve decided I want a child without the encumbrance of a husband. I also want a bright child, free of many of the inherited illness. If I find the right male surrogate I’ve eliminated whatever problems that I can for the sake of the child.” Her smile was bright and brittle, hiding her own indecision. She had made her choice and now she was moving to carry it out.

  “And I’m it?” A smirk suddenly appeared on his face, but it wasn’t inherited, either. It came from being young and virile and good-looking in a society that paid too much attention to such things and not enough to the qualities that lay underneath a handsome shell.

  “We don’t know that yet, do we?” She eyed him with an even gaze that had intimidated businessmen more than once. His smirk washed away, to be replaced with a dull flush. Her hands were unfolding the paper even before she glanced down. She scanned the printed words. Yes, he was in perfect health; yes,
he was male and over twenty-one . . . barely. Yes, he had had the usual childhood diseases but none of the debilitating ones that could be inherited. Neither, apparently, had his parents, four brothers, and one sister. Everything was in order. His genes had been tested and found just fine for her baby.

  Now came the questions. In a very businesslike tone Caro began requesting, even demanding, the answers she wanted.

  “Do you need the fee I’ll be paying you for your services?”

  “Yes.” His voice turned sullen.

  “Why?”

  “I want to open a ski shop.”

  “Where?” Her voice sharpened and she leaned forward.

  “In Snowhawk.” He named one of the better- known ski slopes.

  “If I upped the ante, would you consider moving to another state? Perhaps Colorado?”

  His light brown eyes lit up with interest. “Why?” It was his turn to ask questions.

  “Because I live in Utah and I would prefer that you didn’t.”

  “Does that mean I have the ‘job’?” His grin turned into another smirk as he studied her slim body, obviously seeing her naked in his mind.

  His crude ploy made her blood boil. He could use being taken down a peg! “It means that I’m still considering the remote possibility.” Her tone quelled him. “I’m not ready to hand over thousands of dollars to someone just because he has a nice, undiseased body. If that were the case, I would never have gotten to the point of interviewing you.”

  He winced. “Ouch, lady.”

  “Think nothing of it” She barely contained the grin that threatened to curve her lips and show off her deep dimples.

  He sighed, leaning back in the low red velvet chair. “Okay. What now?” His lounging form reminded her so much of a typical teenager that she almost wished she had cancelled this appointment. But he had all the qualifications and, just as important, no visible bad habits. Still. . .

  “Now we both think about it.” She stood, all five feet three of her, and eyed him much as a mother would. “What does your family have to say about this? Have you discussed this with them?”

  “Lord, no!” He stood, unwinding his lean frame from its casual position to tower over her.

  She tilted her head sideways, staring up at him and wondering how long it would be before she got a crick in her neck. “Why not?”

  “Well, I did tell my sister, but she thinks I’m crazy anyway.” His grin told her that he liked his sister. His easy stance told her that he had suddenly relaxed as he began to talk about his family. That was a good sign.

  Caro glanced down at the physician’s form. “And did you mention this to any of your brothers?”

  “No.” Brandon’s voice turned low and flat and she looked up in surprise. “This has nothing to do with them.”

  “I would think that this was just the sort of thing a bunch of men would talk about. After all, a man being hired—”

  “What I do is my business,” he interrupted firmly, showing a streak of determination that she hadn’t guessed he possessed. She was pleased.

  “And how will you feel three, five, ten years from now? Do you think you’ll have an urge to see the child you created?”

  He shrugged. “Why should I? I imagine there are a lot of guys who go through life wondering if they’ve fathered any little brats along the way. I’ll bet it drives them nuts, haunting them.” He grinned. “This way I’ll know for sure, and I’ll also know that you won’t let my secret out or allow any noble motives to get in the way when the kid gets big and wants to find his real parents.”

  Caro’s voice hardened. “I’ll be the only ‘real parents.’ Make no mistake, this is my baby. You’ll just be a man with some extra money in his pocket.”

  He grinned. “Fair enough,” he said. “When will I know your decision?”

  “I’ll have my attorney call you by the end of the week with my decision.” She saw the gleam that immediately entered his eyes and quelled it with her next words. “In the meantime I’ll decide if I think we’re compatible. If I do, then we’ll discuss the next step.”

  “I still have to work for a living, you know,” he countered.

  “So do I,” she answered, holding out her hand to demonstrate that the interview was over. “We’ll be in touch. Thank you for your time.”

  The skirt of her silk dress swished against her sleek, nylon-encased legs as she turned and retraced her steps out the front door and stepped into a taxi. She never looked back, never waved; never saw that Brandon Cole watched her with narrowed eyes and an expression wiser than his youth. She didn’t see the calculated look that passed fleetingly over his face before it was quickly hidden from passing guests.

  The cab drove around the city, following her instructions. They passed the gold-domed state capital and the high-walled Mormon Temple grounds. Caro gave Brandon Cole plenty of time to leave the hotel. Finally the driver stopped in a side street, allowing her to use another entrance to the hotel. Her steps were muffled by the carpeted hallway as she took a sharp right and pushed the elevator button. If he was still waiting in the lobby, he would wait a long time. If he asked the desk clerk for her room number, he would be told there was no “Carolyn” registered under any last name. Everything that could be done to retain her mysterious identity had been done. There would be no way for him to trace her, either then or later.

  She opened the door to her suite and immediately slipped off her shoes, then stripped off her dress and slip. What she needed was a hot bath and a few hours of sleep before tackling any decision-making.

  Her warm shower was soothing rather than invigorating. The triple-sheeted bed made Caro smile. Where else would one find a bottom sheet, top sheet and a sheeted blanket except in the finest hotels? Certainly not at home. She grinned, eyes closed and hand sensuously rubbing the top sheet, feeling the softness of the pristine material. She didn’t travel from home often, but when she did, it was marvelous to know that she could finally afford to go first class. Her mind was fuzzy with impending sleep and she felt as if she were floating in midair in the quiet room.

  She thought over her conversation with Brandon Cole, and his knowing, cocky manner. She had met many men of his type during her years of traveling with a band. He and the others like him had the one thing she had always craved: family. And he didn’t even know how lucky he was! What a waste of such a valuable asset

  All her life Caro had dreamed of having a family, someone to call her own. Even knowing that families had their share of problems and conflicts hadn’t detracted from her teenage daydreams in which she was loved and cared for by parents, sisters, and brothers. She longed for someone who would love her despite her faults. Once she had thought that her dreams of a home and husband were about to come true, only to find that the call of his family was stronger than his attraction to her. And when his family pressured him to give up his role as lead guitarist in the band that he and Caro had formed and come home to marry his childhood sweetheart, he had done so, strengthening her original theory that blood was always thicker than water. It was then that she had taken off the blindfold that love had tied over her eyes - and she had never replaced it.

  Life had taught her a hard lesson and she had remembered it well. Caro wasn’t masochistic enough to try love again. In fact, she consistently withdrew from anything that remotely resembled an entanglement. She had no close relationships with anything or anyone, with the exception of Sam, her general manager and surrogate father. But his love, although sorely needed and appreciated, wasn’t enough.

  Although loving someone else had been so painful an ordeal that she’d shied away from it ever since, something was missing in her life. Yet she’d never regretted the direction her life had taken, had she? She shoved her doubts aside. This was the path she had chosen and that was that.

  Slowly her eyes closed and she slept.

  The noise seemed to fit into her dream at first; then suddenly it pricked her unconscious enough to make her wake up. It was her
barking cellphone phone.

  “Yes?” Her voice was clipped and assured, but her mind was still wrapped in cotton gauze.

  “Caro, I’m just checking in with you before the evening crowd starts storming the doors. Everything going all right?”

  She grinned and wiggled back down into the soft covers. “Yes, Sam, everything’s fine. The final interview is over and I’m just going to have dinner in the dining room before relaxing with a good book.”

  “No company to entertain you?” Sam’s gravelly voice sounded teasing as he covered his concern.

  “I’m by myself, Sam,” she promised. “I’m not doing anything I’m not supposed to. In fact, I’m enjoying the fact that I’m not working. This has turned into a holiday.”

  Caro could hear musical instruments tuning up in the background, letting her know that Sam was using the bar phone instead of the one in the office. His rough Western twang grew louder.

  “Well, I was just checkin’,” he drawled. “I didn’t want any surprises when I picked you up tomorrow.”

  “No surprises,” she said firmly. “Was there any trouble last night?”

  “Nope. And the take-in was very good. I’ll show you the receipts when you get back. We had a group in here from San Jose last night. They were loud but harmless.” Sam’s voice held a hint of laughter. That was what he liked best, a loud, but fun, group. It made the already excellent reputation of The Loose Noose bar and dance hall spread faster and farther than advertising could ever do.

  “Good deal. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. Two o’clock. Don’t forget.”

  “I won’t. Just you be ready, little lady,” he admonished her, as he would a child. “And don’t be late. Some of us have to work for a living!”

  She chuckled. “I’ll be on time.”

  ***

  The hotel restaurant was one of the finest in Utah. Caro was shown to her seat by a host who had obviously been with them for years. He knew many of the customers by name, and she suspected that he could read the labels of the clothing of those he didn’t know. There was no random selection of seating; everyone was seated according to wealth, class, or social station.