her heart sinking just the tiniest bit, mostly because he wouldn’t look at her. And he must have been anticipating a long discussion because he took off his coat and tossed it over the back of his chair. She did the same, then nudged aside a pile of papers so she could sit beside him on the edge of his desk.
He was quiet for several long seconds, as though he was working something through in his head, then he looked at her and said, “You really want to do it? Have a baby, I mean.”
“I really do.”
“What if I had a better way?”
“A better way?”
He nodded. “For both of us.”
Both of them? She failed to see how her plan to have a baby could in any way benefit him. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I know the perfect man to be the father of your baby. Someone who would actually be around. Someone willing to take financial responsibility for the rest of the baby’s life.”
Whoever this so-called perfect man was, he sounded too good to be true. “Oh, yeah?” she said. “Who?”
He leaned forward, his dark eyes serious. “Me.”
For a second she was too stunned to speak. Nick wanted to have a baby with her? “Why? You’ve been pretty adamant about the fact that you don’t want children.”
“Trust me when I say that it will be a mutually advantageous arrangement.”
“Advantageous how?”
“What I’m about to tell you, you have to promise not to repeat to anyone. Ever.”
“Okay.”
“Say, ‘I promise.’”
She rolled her eyes. What were they, twelve? “I promise.”
“Last week my grandfather called me, Rob and Tony to his house for a secret meeting. He offered us ten million dollars each to produce a male heir to carry on the Caroselli name.”
“Holy crap.”
“That was pretty much my first reaction, too. I wasn’t sure I was even going to accept his offer. I’m really not ready to settle down, but then you mentioned your plan …” He shrugged. “I mean, how much more perfect could it be? You get the baby you want and I get the money.”
It made sense in a weird way, but her and Nick?
“Of course, we would have to get married,” he said.
Whoa, wait a minute. “Married? Haven’t you told me about a million times that you’ll never get married?”
“You know how traditional Nonno is. I don’t have a choice. But the minute I have the cash in hand, we can file for a quickie divorce. An ironclad prenup should eliminate any complications … not that I expect there would be any.”
“That sounds almost too easy.”
“Well, we will have to make it look convincing.”
Why did she get the feeling she wasn’t going to like this? “What exactly do you mean by convincing?”
“You’ll have to move into my place.”
A fake marriage was one thing, but to live together? “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I have lots of space. You can have the spare bedroom and you can turn the den into your office.”
Space wasn’t the issue. They’d tried the roommate thing right after college, in an apartment more than spacious enough for two people. Between the random girls parading in and out at ridiculous hours—and the fact that Nick never picked up after himself and left the sink filled with his dirty dishes while the dishwasher sat empty, and a couple dozen other annoying quirks and habits he had—after two months she’d reached her limit. Had she stayed even a day longer, it would have either killed their friendship, or she would have killed him.
“Nick, you know I love you, and I value our friendship beyond anything else, but we’ve tried this before. It didn’t work.”
“That was almost eight years ago. I’m sure we’ve both matured since then.”
“Have you stopped being a slob, too? Because I loathe the thought of spending the next nine months cleaning up after you.”
“You won’t have to. I have a cleaning service come in three times a week. And for the record, I’m not particularly looking forward to you nagging me incessantly.”
“I do not nag,” she said, and he shot her a look. “Okay, maybe I nag a little, but only out of sheer frustration.”
“Then we’ll just have to make an effort to be more accommodating to each other. I promise to keep on top of the clutter, if you promise not to nag.”
That might be easier said than done.
“Think how lucky the kid will be,” Nick said. “Most divorced parents hate each other. Mine haven’t had a civilized conversation in years. His will be best friends.”
He had a good point there. “So that means you’ll be a regular part of the baby’s life?”
“Of course. And he’ll have lots of cousins, and aunts and uncles.”
Wasn’t a part-time father better than no father at all? And she would never have to worry financially. She knew Nick would take care of the baby. Not that she was hurting for money. If she was careful, the trust her aunt had willed her, combined with her growing web design business, would keep her living comfortably for a very long time. But Nick would see that the baby went to the best schools, and had every advantage, things she couldn’t quite afford. And he would be a part of a big, loving, happy family. Which was more than she could say for her own childhood. The baby might even join the Caroselli family business some day.
“And suppose, God forbid, something should happen to you,” he said. “Where would the baby go if he was fathered by a donor?”
Having lost her own parents, of course that was a concern. Now that her aunt was gone, there was no family left to take the child if she were in an accident or … Although the baby would probably be better off in foster care than with someone like her aunt. She would have been.
“With me as the father, he’ll always have a family.” Nick said.
As completely crazy as the idea was, it did make sense. “I think it could work.”
He actually looked excited, although who wouldn’t be over the prospect of ten million bucks? Why settle for the life of a millionaire when he could be a multimillionaire?
“So,” he said, “is that an ‘I’m still thinking about it,’ or is that a definite yes?”
Though she was often guilty for jumping into things without full consideration, maybe in this case overthinking it would be a bad idea. Or maybe she just didn’t want the opportunity to talk herself out of it. They would both be getting what they wanted. More or less.
“I just have one more question,” she said. “What about women?”
“What about them?”
“Will it be a different girl every other night? Will I have to listen to the moaning and the headboard knocking against the wall? See her traipsing around the next morning in nothing but her underwear and one of your shirts?”
“Of course not. As long as we’re married, I wouldn’t see anyone else.”
“Nick, we’re talking at least nine months. Can you even go that long without dating?”
“Do you really mean dating, or is that code for sex?”
“Either.”
“Can