her thoughts. She knew why she wanted a baby, but she’d never put it into words. It was more a feeling of something that was missing.
“I’m not sure I’ll say this right, but it’s like there’s this big part of me missing. My arms ache to hold a baby—not my friends’ or co-workers’, but my own.”
She glanced up to see if he understood what she was trying to say. It was impossible to tell from his expression. Her feelings about the baby were tied closely to the woman she’d dreamed of being when she was eighteen and about to be married.
She remembered standing in a church filled with family and friends and staring down the aisle at the man she thought would love her forever. The man she thought would father all four of the children she dreamed of having.
Now she once again felt like a woman on the cusp of change. But this time she was in control—and finally on the edge of having her dream come true. All she had to do was convince the man sitting across from her to grant this wish.
She reached for her latte, then took a deep swallow. She felt as if she’d regained the ground she’d lost by her tardiness.
“One last question and we’ll wrap this up,” he said, giving her a grin that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Why don’t you want a man in your life?”
Two
Reese watched Sabrina choke on her coffee. Of course, he shouldn’t have asked the question at all. He felt like a killer whale bearing down on a sea lion. It was the type of probing question his editor Jeff had warned him to be careful of asking when interviewing her.
Her aqua-blue eyes reflected her hurt and she blinked several times. He acknowledged that he wouldn’t have asked in such a blunt way if she had been thirty-something, matronly and unappealing. While they’d sat in the sun-warmed sidewalk café, the bond between them had seemed to strengthen. As if their lives had been leading up to this moment and this meeting.
Electric shocks jumped between them each time they touched. And Reese felt off balance, as if a quake rolled through him, waking him from a slumber he hadn’t realized he’d been in. A slumber that had allowed him safety in relationships and safety in living because he’d kept part of himself detached.
He resented that she’d made him “feel,” because he’d done a good job of hiding his emotions, but this woman with her knockout figure, perky nose and aura of sadness touched him. He reassured himself he’d have to be a monster not to sympathize with her, but recognizing didn’t help. His life worked for him because he didn’t allow his emotions to rule him and he’d gotten used to being alone. There was a self-imposed barrier he always kept in place between himself and others.
“I want a family,” she said softly, as if confessing an important secret.
He pictured Sabrina with her own family. A complete family, not the one she was planning to have, but a fictionalized version with a stand-up guy for a husband and two kids. One on the husband’s shoulders, the other in her arms. Unexpectedly, he felt jealous that he wasn’t the stand-up guy with her.
“Isn’t there usually a mother and a father in a family?” he asked. He knew he was being a jerk. He should let her be. Give her space and peace. Don’t question her anymore.
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you want a husband?” he asked bluntly. He couldn’t stop the questions from coming.
“I tried that once and it didn’t work.”
“Why not try again?”
“Why do you care?” she countered.
All right, lady, show me you have a backbone. “I think the readers will want to know.”
She wasn’t the kind of woman he’d expect to choose to be artificially inseminated. She looked like a lady who’d be more comfortable being married first and then bearing a child. Despite her professional clothing, there was something soft and sweet about Sabrina MacFadden.
“Well, your readers will have to be satisfied with the answers I’ve given you.”
“Ms. MacFadden, for the amount of money my magazine is spending we expect to delve deep into the heart of you,” he said.
“The heart?” she said, fiddling nervously with the heart-shaped charm on her necklace.
Her motions drew his gaze to her smooth, slim neck. He wondered if her skin would be as soft there as on her hand. Probably softer, he acknowledged. Would her floral perfume smell be stronger there? What would she taste like? He shifted back on his seat and stretched his legs to relieve the pressure in his crotch.
Damn.
He leaned forward, ignoring his reaction as best he could. “Yes, the heart.”
She sighed, picked up her sunglasses and slid them on. The large lenses hid half her face but didn’t conceal her as he sensed she wished they did.
“I have bad luck with men.”
How could she? She was the kind of woman most men lusted after. He raised an eyebrow and waited for her to continue. She was hedging—he knew it.
“I’m thirty,” she said.
This time there was a hopeful note in her voice, as if maybe he’d buy her answer and let her off the hook. No way. Any woman who caused this kind of internal havoc with him was going to have to suffer the same.
“Thirty is not too old to do it the old-fashioned way. How about the truth?” Something about this woman compelled him to delve deeper and deeper. To find out all of her secrets. To peel away the shells she used to protect herself and find her heart.
“I like to be in control. I hate having some man telling me what to do and where to go. And all my married friends don’t have that freedom. Plus the men I’m attracted to aren’t interested in being fathers.”
So, she wasn’t ditzy and she had spunk. Each layer he was revealing drew him deeper into her mystery. She was funny, gorgeous and successful, if her classic car was any indication—she didn’t need to be inseminated. But she’d made that choice.
He’d started his career as an investigative reporter because he loved solving puzzles and finding the commonality in the most juxtapositioned facts. He liked following a thought to its complicated conclusion and discovering the hidden desires that motivated people. These instincts had served him well while he’d worked the inner-city beat, and for the first time in his job as a life-styles writer he was hungry again, ready to delve, and dig, and expose.
He wanted to take her apart and find out how she ticked. Take away the pieces that were for show, the pieces that kept the world away, and find the true Sabrina MacFadden.
The thought propelled him to his feet. He didn’t get involved with “good” women. Sure, he dated, but it was the usual bar-scene-one-night-stand type of woman. Women who wanted a family didn’t appeal to him. He was a bachelor and planned on playing the field until he was too old to enjoy sex. Hopefully, into his eighties.
She stood as well. He tossed some bills on the table to cover the check. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Her curls swayed in the wind, and he watched as she gathered the thick mass in one hand.
He wanted her. It was sudden but had been building all afternoon. He wanted to peel away her professional suit and lay her bare on the wood deck of his boat. Nothing but the elements around her. Nothing but him and her, the sun and sea.
But he couldn’t have her. Not now, not ever. More than professional ethics played into his decision. More than civilization and the rules of dating and courtship. More than he wanted to admit.
He couldn’t have her because she was the kind of woman who wouldn’t accept the boundaries he put on relationships. And he knew with gut-deep certainty that she’d push him until she had