tension swirled in the atmosphere between them.
“With donor sperm?”
“You should keep the laconic sneers for when you’re in character. They don’t suit you in real life.”
Alex shook his head. “I’m not sneering, Maggie.” Her heart skipped a beat at the way he softly rumbled her name. “I’d never do that.”
Was he in shock?
She drew in a breath, self-conscious of her every move, as if breathing was no longer something she did on automatic. “I want a baby,” she said solemnly. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“I’m being objective.” He didn’t sound it. “I mean, what do you know about this donor guy?”
She didn’t understand him. He seemed aggrieved, like she’d inflicted some sort of pain on him. She’d been feeling all over the place, a little bit lonely, and dying to tell someone. Now she was getting the Alex Wells inquisition. It was her own fault for over-sharing. She’d let her guard down and it was out there, so she steeled herself, ready to defend her decision.
“Enough.” She’d known more about the donor than she knew about her own dad. “Quite a lot, actually. I picked him out online.”
Alex’s face froze. “Such as?”
“The essential stuff. The donor guy’s profession, his medical history – all the nitty-gritty.”
“Sounds like baby pick-and-mix,” he teased. “What’s his favorite sport? Is he good at math? Did he go bald at fifteen?”
The impudence! They’d been strangers for years and he had the gall to question her choice of sperm donor.
“That’s it exactly.” She warmed to her theme. “Not forgetting the obvious. Hair color – dark. Height – five eleven and a half. Eyes …” Her voice dropped to a throaty whisper. Apart from several more inches height-wise the description pretty much covered the super-hot man in front of her. “… Blue.”
Alex stayed stonily silent for a long moment. He narrowed his famous eyes and scrutinized her. A shivery frisson weaved through Maggie to each and every nerve ending. Suddenly it wasn’t Donor Guy’s eyes she was thinking about, but Alex’s.
Yikes.
She was his stylist. She needed to remember that. She’d prattled like a runaway train about her biggest-ever decision. Alex taking her to task about it – as if he’d never stopped being her friend – floored her.
“What type of guy would do that anyway?”
Her heart lurched. “Do what?”
“Give babies away?”
“An unselfish one.” She glared at him. She used to be on the same wavelength as Alex. Right now his over-reaction was mystifying. “You’re like a dog at a bone. Can’t you drop it? I only told you because I didn’t want you to think you’d made me sick with that fruit cocktail.”
That wasn’t exactly true. She’d told him because the wave of nausea had hit her so unexpectedly that she’d suddenly felt vulnerable, and a tiny bit scared. It was a blip. She needed to get back on track. She’d taken control of her future. She wanted a baby more than anything. She had everything she could wish for and she’d worked hard for it – a career, a crash pad in London, a never-a-dull-moment lifestyle … But at the end of the day she was alone in the world. She’d inherited the family cottage in Cornwall when her grandma died, and dreamed up the plan of creating a family to go with it. An uncomplicated, no-ties, no-commitment, guaranteed-hurt-free designer family. No man required. She’d been raised without a dad, and she was certain that she could make a success of family life all on her own. Best of all, there’d be no false hopes and no broken promises.
The last thing she needed was second thoughts. Especially ones put into her head by a testosterone-loaded actor who’d ignored her for ten years and then popped into her life to play her nemesis – like he’d never left. Like he’d never promised to call. Like his kiss had never made her weak with spine-tingling desire …
“Aren’t you even just a bit weirded-out by the genetic randomness of it all?” His words rankled, and all the while his deep voice made her fizz like a can of shaken-up cola.
Was he incapable of letting the subject drop? She hadn’t done this on impulse. She’d thought it through meticulously. She tensed her shoulders, bristling with the strength of her resolution.
“I’m sorry I mentioned it. It’s very early days. I might not even be pregnant.” She bit her lip and reined herself in. She needed to retain a veneer of polite detachment in order to work with Alex. Instead she’d blabbed about her personal life, and things were going horribly wrong. So much for the outwardly calm, sophisticated image she normally projected in her professional life. Her feathers were well and truly ruffled.
“It’s your life. Go for it,” he said, his tone loaded with censure.
“I don’t need your blessing.”
“Look, Maggie. I’ve got to be honest with you.” His jaw clenched. “I hope Donor Guy doesn’t have a winner on his sperm team.”
“You have no right …”
“No.” He cut her off. “I have none.” He watched her thoughtfully. “I’m no expert, but a dad should come with a lifetime guarantee. When you look at your baby’s face you should know whose smile he’s going to have. You shouldn’t have to go on guess work.”
“And you’d know all about that?” Her heart squeezed. She had a photo of her dad. A teenage surfer boy with sparkling eyes, fair hair bleached streaky blonde by sun and sea salt, and a carefree smile. Apart from that the tiny amount she knew about him could be written on a square sticky note. Alex had overstepped the mark. “You’re talking out of your …”
He butted in, saving her from an expletive.
“I know more than you might think.” A note of defense in his voice warned her off asking him what exactly that meant. “If you ask me, if the insemination hasn’t worked, then you should find The One – the guy who makes your heart sing – and have a baby with him.”
“Oh puh-leeeese! My heart sing?”
“You know what I mean.”
I might if I thought he’d be along any time before the turn of the next millennium.
“I don’t believe in The One. It’s a fundamentally flawed concept.” His interference offended her. “Believe it or not, my plans don’t require your seal of approval.”
“Donor insemination might be right for some people. But not you, Maggie. You’re putting the cart before the horse.”
“Nonsense. Horses and carts are very last century.”
She fought the urge to pick at her nail polish.
“Don’t settle for second best. You deserve better than that.”
She’d taken enough criticism. She drank in his cool exterior, the hard lines of his much- too-handsome face. Opinionated, sure of himself, his objections hurt more than she dared admit. She needed Alex-proofing.
Defensive, she let fly. “You’re not in my life anymore. You don’t have any part in this – not even the right to an opinion.” She kept her tone measured. She’d die if he realized that he’d wounded her. “Don’t you get it?” She hesitated for a zillionth of a second and blasted him with the basic fact. “You’re just somebody I used to know.” A shadow crossed Alex’s face as Maggie blustered on. “As far as I can tell genes are a lottery,” she insisted. She didn’t care if she sounded smug. “It’s what you make of what you get that counts. Look at you and Nick.”
A