Her Designer Baby

by Shawna Washington

  “You rogue,” she laughed. “It’s great to meet you. So you’re dating our Oksana?”

  He chuckled. “Your daughter is a priceless jewel,” he said as he sank onto the seat and my heart sank. Now he would have Mom firmly in his corner forever and even when he was annoying, I couldn’t threaten him with reporting to her or something, I thought with a pout. “I’m surprised some man hasn’t snapped her up since,” Nick added.

  “So what are you waiting for?” Binta asked with a sly look at him. That was my mother in action; she frequently went where angels feared to tread.

  Nick laughed, “I’m waiting for the right time.”

  My mother and I exchanged looks; that sure sounded like a back-handed proposal to me. What did he mean by that?

  “Mom,” I chided. “Stop asking him such embarrassing questions. What response could he possibly give to that?”

  “I already gave my response,” Nick stated somewhat testily, his green eyes blazing into mine.

  I swallowed. It seemed I couldn’t get it right with him tonight. First my blunder when I talked about the sleeping arrangements, then I tried to pick up a suitcase and now this.

  I sighed. It did seem to be one of those nights when my foot remained permanently lodged in my mouth. Well the only two things I could think to talk about now that wouldn’t earn me a much-deserved scowl were food and the weather and seeing as it was pitch black outside, I couldn’t very well comment on the clear blue skies.

  I chose food: “I made lasagna,” I said brightly, almost desperately.

  His expression hardened into one of cool aloofness and he said politely, “I would like some please.”

  He ignored me the rest of the meal, focusing intently on my mother until I was writhing with jealousy.

  He spared me a glance when I made to clear the dishes, “Leave them, Oksana. I’ll do the dishes.”

  I nodded my thanks at him and fled into my bedroom. What was wrong with me tonight? The door opened behind me two seconds later and I turned to see my mother standing in the open doorway.

  “What’s wrong with you?” she asked.

  “The very thing I was just wondering myself,” I said insouciantly.

  “I like Nick,” she said next.

  Big surprise! I knew that; heck Nick himself probably knew that since she had made it patently obvious from the moment she clapped eyes on him.

  “Okay?”

  There was more.

  “So why are you acting like a cat on a tin roof? He wants to marry you; he as much as said so too.”

  There in lay the crust of the matter. “I broke up with Jake,” I began.

  “Yeah I got the memo. So? Don’t tell me you’re pining after him,” she said incredulously, coming more fully into the room and shutting the door.

  I looked down at my hands, bit my lips. This was something I struggled with; that feeling that by reason of my problem, I had somehow failed. I knew in my head that I hadn’t failed anything but in my heart, it felt like my self-worth was somehow tied to my ability to reproduce. I hadn’t admitted this aloud to anyone; how could I? They would probably laugh themselves into a seizure at that asinine notion.

  But regardless of what I knew, how I felt was a different story.

  I looked over at my mother. She was vibrant and the very personification of a woman who knew how to enjoy life. How did I admit to my mother that I couldn’t have kids?

  “I never thought I would see the day when you would think there was something you couldn’t tell me,” she said sadly, jerking me out of my inner turmoil.

  I sighed. I had forgotten that she knew me like the back of her palm. “I can’t have kids,” I blurted. It came out sounding like one word as though if I said it fast enough it wouldn’t be true.

  I waited for my mother’s reaction; it wasn’t long in coming and it was the last thing I expected. She laughed. “Now what doctor have you been listening to?”

  “Mom, for real,” I said.

  She crossed the room swiftly and held me in her arms as she enunciated carefully, “You are my daughter, Oksana. If I wasn’t barren, I assure you, you aren’t. And the fact that you’re standing here should answer any questions you might have about my fertility.”

  “Mom”

  “I mean it, darling. Stop running away from a good man just because some doctor fed you a fairytale.”

  “Mom” I tried again.

  “I mean it, Oksana, you’re healthy as a horse. Believe it and stop pushing Nick away,” she said staring steadily into my eyes.

  What else could I possibly say to that? I bit my lip and looked away, letting my silence speak as assent.

  “I’ll retire for the night,” Mom said, rising to her feet. “I suggest you go see that handsome man of yours.”

  As she headed through the door, I shouted, “Wait, Mom. Why did you come?”

  She grinned saucily at me. “Why, to get married, what else?”

  Oksana Davies

  As I walked slowly into the kitchen, I felt myself luxuriating in Nick’s presence. His broad back was to the doorway as he focused intently on drying the dishes in his hands. Yet as I walked silently into the kitchen, I saw him tense as though he’d sensed my presence somehow.

  Then he said without turning, “Is Binta all settled in yet?”

  I nodded, then realizing he couldn’t see me, I said, “Yes. How did you know it was me?”

  “Your perfume. Plus my body’s uncontrollable reactions,” he told me, sounding slightly amused.

  “What reactions?” I pressed.

  “I think that should be obvious.”

  I came up behind him and wrapped my arms around his broad chest from the back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  He chuckled. “It’s forgotten, Oksana.”

  He rinsed off his hands and turned to face me, wrapping his big strong arms around me. His gaze held mine as he slowly, very slowly, lowered his head. My tongue immediately tangled with his in a wild erotic dance as he deepened the kiss, his hands roaming lazily down my back. I thrust my chest forward, my breasts pressing against him without conscious thought as he teased and stroked me into delightful arousal.

  Nick was a master of the art of lovemaking, I thought dimly even as he walked me backwards to lean my back against the counter, his lips tantalizing me with drugging kisses that stole my senses and sent delicious lassitude spreading through my limbs.

  I wrenched my lips from his, my chest panting in confusion as I stared into his eyes; banked fire lit their depths. What was it about this man that affected me so easily? One touch and I was good and ready.

  Nick’s slumberous gaze dropped to my lips. “I want you, Oksana. You set me on fire!”

  He set me on fire with his words, I thought with a sigh of pleasure as I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down for another toe-curling kiss. His hands stroked my hips, my buttocks, before delving down the front of my shorts.

  I spread my legs, my head lolling helplessly like a daffodil on its stem as his lips dropped to my cleavage to trail hot, scorching kisses down my chest and neck. One long forefinger gently pushed my panties to the side before delving into my pussy. His finger encountered juicy wetness immediately and I gasped in reaction as even more wetness pooled immediately between my thighs.

  His long finger inserted itself upwards into my tight, wet center and I almost wept with relief as I spread my legs wide, giving him better access. His finger began a rhythmic thrust, going in and out of me as his other hand shoved up my sweatshirt and bra in one fluid motion. His mouth closed around one dusky brown nipple and I exalted.

  “I want you, baby,” he repeated.

  I moaned, wrapping my hands tighter about him. “I need you, Nick. Now,” I gasped.

  He didn’t answer, just increased the rhythm of his thrusts with his finger.

  “Oh don’t make me scream,” I gasped, belatedly recollecting. “Mom is here.”

  “Mmm. Let’s make all
this legal, then it won’t matter if a whole slew of your relatives are here,” he whispered, raising his head to place his lips against mine. “Marry me, Oksana.”

  Passion evaporated in a haze as I was jerked back to earth with a rude thud. I gazed at him with wide disbelieving eyes. Was I hearing things? I wasn’t.

  Nick sighed as he slowly withdrew his hands from my body. “Don’t look so shocked, Oksana. Of course you knew this was coming.”

  “I can’t have this conversation.”

  His green eyes regarded me soberly. “Is the thought of marriage to me so distasteful to you then?”

  “No, it’s just”

  “Think on it, Oksana. Sleep on it, we’ll talk tomorrow,” he interrupted, placing a gentle kiss onto my brows.

  He stepped back out of reach and headed for the door without so much as a backward glance. He tossed a casual “good night” over his shoulder before the door shut behind him.

  I barely heard him; my heart was thudding too loudly in my chest, even as I tried to force my expression into one of studied politeness to hide my inner turmoil.

  The next morning, I was still shaken. It was a good thing I didn’t have to be in court that morning nor did I have any pressing appointments apart from a negotiation meeting which I instructed my secretary to call to cancel.

  My hands shook slightly as I arranged the toast onto two different plates with scrambled eggs on the side. If I knew my mother, she would be up and looking for breakfast very soon.

  Predictably, her voice rang out, “Oksana? Where are you, darling?”

  “Kitchen!” I called back. I glared at my shaking hands; fine tremors continued to wrack them, left over from last night’s verbal thrusts with Nick. He wanted to marry me. Marry! It was a word that induced nightmares in me; visions of three previously broken engagements. The first because I was ‘high maintenance’, the second because I was ‘too busy’ and the third was the winner: I had ‘baby rabies’.

  Men were great but really not on my list of lifetime choices, I thought rebelliously as I all but strangled an inoffensive onion.

  She traipsed in, looking ridiculously attractive for a woman her age. “Mom? Did you get some sleep?”

  “I sure did, honey. What’s for breakfast?” she asked, stretching as she looked around the kitchen, her hair extensions whipping about her shoulders as she turned her head this way and that. My mother was a truly beautiful woman, I reflected, admiring her absently.

  “Eggs and toast. Sit down,” I invited, nodding towards the empty seat on the other side of the kitchen table.

  She dragged her plate towards her and dug in promptly. “So, Mom, tell me about this marriage you mentioned last night.”

  “Lucien is the most handsome, most amazing man alive,” she trilled her voice almost breathless. “He swept me off my feet so fast I didn’t know what hit me.”

  “What does he do?” I asked, biting into my toast. I was more interested in practicalities. Mother had fallen in love so many times I had lost count. One time she even fell for a tour guide in Greece and remained in love with him even when he made away with her money and left her stranded. But in all her dalliances, she had never mentioned marriage to anyone. The only man she had ever married had been my father and even though she now flitted from one relationship to another, I always sensed she had never truly gotten over my father’s death.

  “Lucien’s an investment banker. He is a darling, I tell you. Seriously, Oksana, I’ve never met anyone like him,” she gushed.

  “And you say marriage is in the cards? Well I want to meet him first,” I said decisively. I loved my mother but sometimes even I had to admit she could be something of an airhead when it came to romance. She was a die-hard romantic and men seemed bent on taking advantage of that streak in her.

  “You worrywart. I had a feeling you would say that. Well you’ll meet Lucien tomorrow”

  I nodded my satisfaction at that answer.

  “at the wedding,” she finished.

  My head snapped up. “You are not getting married tomorrow.”

  “Yes I am,” she informed me. “And you’re standing up with me. Nick too.”

  “Nick?” I blubbered. “You already told him?”

  “Of course I did. The darling boy couldn’t offer the use of his beach house fast enough.”

  “Beach house?” I repeated, wondering if I had stumbled into the twilight zone and the entire world had gone mad when I wasn’t looking.

  Mom shook her head. “You’re dating the man and you don’t even know he has a house in Long Beach?”

  I shrugged, “What’s it to do with me? I don’t care what he does or doesn’t have.”

  “Is that why you refused to marry him?” she asked, watching me intently as she sipped some coffee.

  I rolled my eyes. Prying was probably the only verb in my mother’s dictionary. “What did you do? Listen at the keyhole?”

  Her eyes widened with genuine surprise. “He asked again after that hint in the kitchen?”

  “I really don’t want to talk about Nick, Mom,” I said as I began to clear away the dishes. “Tell me more about Lucien.”

  “Nick is” she began.

  “Mom,” I cut in.

  “Nick is a perfect gentleman, handsome and exceedingly nice. He even helps with the dishes.”

  “I can get a dishwasher for that,” I said brashly as I began to load the dishes into one.

  “And what about at night?” she persisted. “What then?”

  “What’s all this? What are you trying to get me to say?” I demanded.

  “Why are you so scared of saying yes to something you want so badly?” she asked quietly, placing a hand onto my shoulder and forcing me to look up at her.

  “Because Nick loves kids okay?” I shouted, pushed beyond all endurance into admitting the truth. “I’ve seen him with his niece Nikki and I’ve never seen him more relaxed or happy.”

  Mom’s eyes misted with tears as she regarded me. She placed one hand against my cheek and said, “Baby, his love of kids is a plus and not a minus.”

  “But”

  “And you love kids as well, which is exactly why you shall have as many as you want,” she pronounced, her gaze locked on mine.

  As I held my mother’s gaze, an amazing thing began to happen: the last tendrils of hope, which I had thought paralyzed, unfurled and blossomed inside me like a flower. Maybe, just maybe, I could beat the odds and somehow carry my own baby someday.

  But marriage was not in the cards for me; three broken engagements had cured me of any desire to bind myself in marriage to any man forever and it really didn’t matter if his green eyes made my heart thud and my mouth dry every single time.

  Nick Carradigne

  Oksana was exceedingly beautiful, I thought, as I turned at the makeshift aisle with Lucien Duval to watch the bride and her beautiful daughter walk down the aisle towards him. I barely noticed Binta; I only had eyes for Oksana.

  She was dressed in an alluring gown of red velvet that hugged her curves, emphasizing the bewitching lines of her figure. The gown also contrasted beautifully with her smooth, silken caramel skin and I just itched to stroke my hands down her skin. Every time she moved, the gown parted in a high slit that ran from knee to ankle, exposing a smooth expanse of well-shaven leg that made my blood pressure rise as I looked at her.

  Oksana had done something with her hair, I noted, my gaze resting on her lovely face framed by new hair extensions. They dangled becomingly around her face in tiny, springy curls that stopped just beneath her chin and emphasized the angle of her cheekbones.

  Her brown eyes sparkled at me as she walked closer, her long lashes fanned seductively against her cheek every time she looked down.

  As she drew even with me, the faint scent of jasmine assailed my nostrils, seducing my senses. She threw me a quick glance and a slight nod, before facing forward towards the altar and presenting me with her flawless profile.

  The minister beamed
at the little gathering of Binta and Lucien’s friends on the beach, about fifty people in all.

  “Friends, we are gathered today in the sight of God and man to join together this man and this woman,” he droned.

  The wedding progressed with surprising speed and in what seemed like few minutes, Binta and Lucien were turning to face the gathered guests as man and wife, their faces wreathed in identical smiles. Lucien seemed like a good sort, I thought, eyeing the other man as he placed a hand behind his new wife and guided her towards the table set for them. He was tall, polished and debonair. He had black hair with silver-gray at his temples and he spoke English with an accent Oksana and her mother seemed to find thrilling. When I had met him, he had clasped my hand in a good firm handshake that made me like him immediately and he maintained good eye contact.