“He’s not so smart.”
“What?”
“His IQ isn’t impressive.”
“Nobody can beat your IQ, Mr. Smarty-pants. The only thing that kind of worries me is that he has twins in his family. I’m not ready for two at once.”
Barrett flung the paper over his shoulder. “Forget him. Who’s next?”
She watched the paper float to the floor behind him but didn’t put up too much of a fight. “This guy is an artist. I like that he’s got creative talent, which would be a good match for my practicality. My daughter, or son, could be a famous—”
“Poor, struggling artist selling paintings on the sidewalk for five bucks a pop.”
“Or she could be a commercial graphic artist and design award-winning ads—”
“Travel with a carnival doing caricatures in charcoal.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “My kid’s going to be successful. But you know, it doesn’t matter what she or he decides to do with their talent. As long as it’s what they want, I’m good with that.”
“There isn’t even an IQ on the profile. How can you choose a guy without knowing how smart he is—or isn’t?”
“That’s how most people do it. They don’t require an IQ test before you get married or have a baby. I doubt most people even know their IQ.”
“Don’t know their IQ? That’s preposterous!” Most of the people he associated with knew their IQ the same way they knew their social security number.
“I don’t know mine.”
This was the real world, he reminded himself, not his closed circle of associates. Stacy, Nita, Arlene, Ernie…they were real. They didn’t live and die by their IQs.
“All right, let’s not discount him because of the lack of IQ information. We’ll set him aside for future consideration.” He tossed the profile over his shoulder, and she watched it float to the floor with the first one. “Who’s next?”
“You’re not going to like this one either. One-zero-three-four-two-one is a model. I know looks aren’t the most important thing, but with me looking plain, I figured my kid should get the best chance she can have. They’ve done studies, you know. Good-looking people get more breaks.”
“You’re not plain.”
“Yes, I am. I’m okay with that, believe me. I’ve gotten used to it. I just want better for my child.”
She believed that she was plain. Even with that mouth and the way her hair wisped around her face, and those chocolate-syrup brown eyes. He catalogued all that for future dissemination and focused on 103421.
“No IQ again.”
“I knew you weren’t going to like that. But look, he’s French. Some exotic genes, and maybe my child will learn French easier.”
“French is easy to learn, especially when you’re young.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“No, it’s true. There have been studies on it. Young minds can easily learn more than one language. Our brains get more rigid as we age.”
“You know French?”
“And Spanish and Italian and German.”
She wrenched her gaze to the profile he was holding. “He went to college and got an associate’s degree. That counts for something. But he was making so much money modeling, he decided to do that for a while before returning to his studies.”
“But he doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life.”
“Neither do you.”
She had him there. He scanned the sheet. “He has your coloring.”
“Yeah, I thought that was neat. We’ll almost be guaranteed to produce a baby that looks like me.”
He couldn’t argue with that point, if that’s what she wanted. Then he found the fatal flaw. “Look at his blood type. It’s less common, harder to find blood in the event of a transfusion situation. Forget him.” He tossed the paper over his shoulder with the rest.
She let out a sound of exasperation. “Then what kind of man do you think should be the father of my baby?”
He hadn’t meant to say it, but the word came out just the same. “Me.”
12
“VERY FUNNY, BARRETT.” Stacy started to get up, because even just his saying the word had her insides jumping around.
He grabbed her hands and said, “I’m not being funny.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am.” He looked serious, earnest even.
She took a breath, never taking her eyes off him. “Is this why you came over tonight?”
He ducked his head and ran his hand through his hair. “No. Maybe. What I mean is, I didn’t know that’s why I was coming over. But I suspect some part of me knew. Ever since you told me what you wanted to do, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Something wasn’t right, you getting sperm from some guy you’ve never even seen. I don’t have any diseases, my family background is healthy, and I won’t ask for custody. I can’t do much about our disparate hair and eye coloring, but I understand brown eyes are often dominant. What do you say?”
He had her hands in his again, waiting for her answer. It was lodged in her throat right next to her heart. “You are serious.”
“If you’re going to do this, I want to be the father. I don’t know that I’ll ever get married and have a family, and I like the thought of having a child out there. With you.”
She took another long breath, trying to allay the quivering in her body. She already knew the answer, and she pushed out the word. “Yes.”
He hugged her, crushing her to his chest. “Thank you.”
When they parted, she said, “You’re thanking me?”
He let his hands remain on her shoulders where they felt warm and comforting. “For letting me be the one. I didn’t realize how important it was until you didn’t say yes right away.”
She glanced at the discarded profiles on the floor. “None of those guys felt right. Now I know why.”
“I feel right?”
“Oh, yes.”
He smiled. “What do we need to do?”
Make wild and crazy love right here on this couch. She cleared her throat, pushing away those thoughts altogether. Making love with Barrett would be a bad idea. It would make it so much harder to let him go.
“We go to the clinic Monday. I think they’ll give you some dirty magazines, a cup and some privacy.”
“Oh. Oh,” he said with a nod as it came together. “I guess I’ll manage.”
She didn’t even want to start with those mental pictures, so she stood. “Maybe we’d better sleep on this for what’s left of the night. In case of any second thoughts.”
“You think you might change your mind?” He looked so worried, she almost laughed.
“No, but you might. This is a big step. You’d better give it some thought. I’m just giving you that option, that’s all.” Please don’t change your mind, please, please. She loved the idea of Barrett fathering her child. Probably she loved it too much.
He stood, too, squeezing them into the small space between the coffee table and the couch. They maneuvered around each other, bodies, legs and arms brushing. They stopped, his pelvis pressed to her stomach and his hands on her shoulders. The contact sent a rush of warmth through her. He was looking at her with a serious expression on his face. Forget the clinic and the cup! Strip him naked and lose yourself in him, skin against skin, mouth against mouth, mouth on other parts of her body, his body. She wasn’t even going to try to convince herself he would be a lousy lover, not when he was a great kisser, not when they came together so naturally. Magic.
So have fun, keep it casual, make a baby…and fall in love.
It would be way easy, looking into those vivid blue eyes while he was inside her.
The cup. It has to be the cup.
She backed around the coffee table and walked him to the door, becoming more and more afraid that this was some bizarre dream. She shouldn’t have finished that pint of chocolate-chunk peanut-butter ice cream. At this very moment, she was probably sleeping on the couch
.
“I’m not going to change my mind,” he said, reinforcing her suspicion that it was a dream. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”
She realized she was frowning. “More or less. I think I’ll believe it better in the morning. Let’s have lunch. We can talk more then. Or do you need to work on your project? I know you’re running out of time.”
“I’m fine.” His gaze wandered over her face. “Should we shake on the deal?”
“Sure.” She tried not to laugh at the absurdity of shaking hands and held out her hand. He kissed her instead.
It started out as the tender kind of kiss they’d shared that afternoon. The kiss for the benefit of Sunset City because she was nice. He massaged her neck as his mouth moved across hers, back and forth in that sensual movement she once thought impossible for a scientific kind of guy.
She felt his tongue slide across her lower lip, leaving behind a warm, moist feeling. Her fingers tightened against his back as her insides were rocked off their foundation. She let out a soft sound between a whimper and a groan, something she’d never heard from herself before. Her lips parted, and he dipped into her mouth with the tip of his tongue. She felt an electrical charge when their tongues touched. It wasn’t that it had been a long time since she’d kissed anyone. She had never been kissed like this, never felt this soul-bending, melding connection with anyone else. When she heard him make a sound deep in his throat, she nearly melted.
He stepped closer so that their bodies nearly touched and deepened the kiss. She could feel the full length of his tongue sliding against hers now. She was so caught up in all the sensations, she realized she hadn’t been moving her tongue. She played, skipping across his teeth, tickling the roof of his mouth and teasing the tip of his tongue. She could tell it worked by the sound in his throat again.
When they parted for breath, she said, “You are a fantastic kisser.” Wow, when was the last time she’d sounded so breathless, so satisfied?
“I followed your advice, just go with it, let it happen.”
She nuzzled closer to him. “Can we let it happen again?”
He answered with his kiss, covering her mouth, doing the lip slide before moving in to make it ten degrees past erotic. He was cradling her face now, thumbs brushing across her cheeks as they made slow love with their mouths. When she sucked on his tongue, taking it all in and running her mouth along the length of it, he really let out a strangled sound. His kiss became even more fervent than before.
“You taste good,” he said between kisses, “and you feel good, and I’d probably better leave before I want to do a lot more than kiss you.”
She pulled on his shirt before he could back away. “You’re not going anywhere, not after kissing me like that.”
After another one of those soul-deep groans, he kissed her again. She pulled him toward the couch, not breaking the kiss for a second, pulled him around the chair and the coffee table and down onto the spongy couch. They had barely touched down before Barrett, who was on top, was kissing her again.
Where had this passion come from? Was it the same passion that eventually petered out?
No, don’t think about that. It doesn’t matter. This is what you want, making love with him now, having his baby, saying goodbye…
She pushed his shirt over his shoulders, and he shrugged out of it. Her hands skimmed down his back and then up through his hair as he kissed down her neck, over her collarbone to the V of her pajama top. He unbuttoned the two buttons and pushed the shirt open.
“You are definitely not plain,” he said, caressing the curve of her breasts.
She didn’t feel the least bit plain as his gaze took her in with hungry desire. He pulled her to her knees and slid off her pajama top. He hugged her close, skin against skin, and seemed to relish the feel of holding her. She held him tight, pressing her cheek against his chest and listening to his heartbeat race beneath her ear. One of his hands traced across her back in affectionate circles while the other rubbed her neck in the way she was beginning to love.
The same way she was beginning to love him, she realized. Despite all her warnings to herself, she’d fallen for him. That’s why it felt so right to have his baby. Some deep part of her needed to conceive in love. She could never be clinical, could never think of her child’s father as 1234567. She pressed closer to Barrett, feeling all that love wash over her, wanting it to spill over onto him. He was giving her this precious gift—not just the baby, but also the most tender yet passionate lovemaking she’d ever experienced. And most importantly, love.
When they parted, he tilted her chin up. He traced the curves of her face with his finger so softly it tickled, so tenderly, it nearly made her weep. He swallowed hard, then leaned down and kissed her just as tenderly. What was he doing to her? She was dying inside. It was bad enough that she loved him. Would he make her fear that she couldn’t live without him, too? A fat lot of good that would do her as he trudged through rain forests in pursuit of a life goal that changed with the seasons.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, and she realized she’d been so lost in the agony of her thoughts, she hadn’t kissed him back.
“How did you learn to make love like this?”
“Why do you ask?” he asked.
“It’s just that…well, you’re a scientific guy, and what you’re doing is definitely not scientific or clinical. It’s wonderful. It’s better than anything I’ve ever experienced. You astound me.”
He took in her words, smiling at her last pronouncement. “It’s like the kissing, Stacy. I’m not analyzing, not working toward the end result, not thinking at all. I’m letting the moment move me.”
She climbed off the couch and held out her hand to him. “Seems wrong making our baby on a couch.”
She led him into her small bedroom, turning on the night-light and nothing else. The bed was unmade, as it always was. Everything looked the same, and yet it looked dramatically different. Barrett had changed it the same way he’d changed her. She reached for the waistband of his pants, but he pulled her close before she could unbutton them.
“There’s one more factor in the way I’m making love to you—you.” He kissed her again, a deep, languid kiss that shook her down to her toes and made them curl. If he were anyone else, she’d suspect those eloquent lines. But it was Barrett, who took everything at face value.
She unzipped his pants and pushed them to the floor. His briefs followed. Her fingers grazed his legs as she pushed the pants down, and she reveled in the brush of his leg hairs and the hard muscles beneath. He stepped out of the pants and kicked them to the side. His body was gilded by the small light, every muscle defined by shadow and light.
He hooked his finger over the top of her waistband and pulled her close, kissing her as though he couldn’t get enough of her. She was so lost in that kiss she almost didn’t realize he was sliding her pajama bottoms down her legs. He used his toe to push them the rest of the way down so he didn’t have to interrupt the kiss.
She pulled him onto the bed. The jumble of pink gingham comforter was cool against her skin. He explored her body with his hands the same way a man explores a fragile and precious object. The reverence was clear on his face as he watched his hand glide over her skin, over each curve, down her legs and between her toes. Every part of her body seemed to deserve his full attention, even the curve of the bottom of her foot and the bone of her ankle. She closed her eyes and sank into the sensations that curled all through her body, no matter where he was touching. He slid his hands up the backs of her calves, lingering on the backs of her knees and sending her straight to ecstasy.
“I could do this all night,” he said in a soft voice.
“Okay,” she whispered.
He chuckled, but continued to caress her with soft, smooth strokes. She was floating, soaking everything in and…not giving anything back. Her eyes popped open, and she started to get up.
“Your turn.”
He gently pushed her do
wn. “No, it’s your turn. Maybe you should get used to being selfish once in a while.”
“But you’re giving me a baby! I want to do something for you.”
His hand planted on her chest kept her from getting up. “I thought giving you a baby was totally unselfish, and I liked the idea of doing something unselfish. But it’s not, really.”
“It’s not?” Did he want to be involved in the baby’s life?
“Not when I think about how it feels to know you’re having my child. It kind of takes away the unselfish factor. So I can do this.”
He took one of her nipples in his mouth and teased it with his tongue. Her toes went into instant curl-up mode. He wanted to do something just for her. She tried to hold onto the thought as he traced the undersides of her breasts before assaulting her other nipple. She ached with the wonder of Barrett doing this—all of this—for her. And wanting nothing in return.
“You always smell so good,” he whispered.
“Euphoria,” she said on a sigh as his mouth went lower, leaving a wet trail down her stomach, nestling in her intimate hair before teasing a whole new area of her body.
He touch was so exquisite, she was sure she was going to die. No one had ever done this to her before, and she was sure no one could do it better.
It didn’t take long to move to the edge of euphoria, and she wasn’t talking about her body lotion. He knew exactly what to do, when to back off and when to come back, how fast to flick his tongue and when to do a full stroke. And he knew when she’d had enough, when her fingers were wound around the folds of the comforter and her breath was coming in heavy puffs. She uttered his name once, and he let her fall over the edge.
And just when she’d gotten her bearings, he sent her over the edge again. All with a few flicks of his tongue in the right place.
He kissed his way to her neck and her ears, then whispered, “You taste so good,” and she nearly lost it again.
Driven to Distraction & Winging It Page 13