they had.
And all the time, she was wondering how any woman could have left a man like this. But of course, there had to be things about him that she didn’t have a clue about. And maybe she was being a sucker, falling for his sad tale. Maybe. All she knew was, if she’d had a chance at a man like Jack when she was younger, she’d have leaped tall buildings to get at it. Or climbed tall mountains, considering she’d been in Alaska. She’d married so young, and after such an isolated life, she’d never had a chance to do any dating. And later, even though she’d met many more men at work, she’d never felt comfortable with the sort of flirting other women seemed to fall into naturally with any attractive man. She was a married woman, after all.
Then she it hit her; she wasn’t married at all, not anymore.
Chapter Three
Gayle took a long, cool drink of water and cleared her throat. There didn’t seem to be anything left to say. Jack seemed to feel it, too. This conversation had run its course for now.
He paid the bill and they both rose to leave. As they walked out, he put a hand gently behind her neck to lead her to the street. She jumped when she first felt his touch, but he didn’t withdraw his hand and so she didn’t say anything. Still, it was definitely disturbing, making her skin so sensitive she had to consciously ignore it to keep from reacting, and she was relieved when he let her go once on the sidewalk.
“Where are you parked?” he asked. She told him and they started toward the parking structure.
“I don’t really need an escort,” she told him lightly. “I’ve been getting my car from parking lots for a long time now. Haven’t had a problem yet.”
He smiled but didn’t say anything, and kept right on walking with her. They had to go past a row of pink oleanders and through the old Spanish plaza with its worn bricks and colorful tile. There was a bench in front of a fountain ahead, the cascading water sparkling silvery in the sunlight. He watched her for a moment. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want to let her go just yet. He told himself it was because they still hadn’t settled anything and they still needed to talk, but he knew it was more than that.
“Gayle, wait a moment.” He took her arm, stopping her. “Come sit with me over there on that bench. We still have a few things to talk about.”
She stared into his eyes for a moment, and he knew she wanted to go, wanted to get away from him. He couldn’t blame her. He’d completely disrupted her life. To her, he was nothing but a problem that she wished would evaporate. He was going to have to convince her that he was not going to disappear from the scene anytime soon.
Finally she nodded and started toward the bench. He came with her, reaching out with his handkerchief to sweep off the leaves before letting her seat herself. She brushed by him as she did so, her hair floating behind her and leaving her scent in the air. He took a deep breath, wanting more of it. She smelled like flowers, like sunshine and happiness. As he sat down beside her, he had to resist the impulse to touch her hair.
She turned to look at him and her eyes were saying, “Make this quick, mister, I want to get going.”
He grimaced. “Gayle, you’re going to have to realize, whether you like it or not, we’re tied together.”
She swallowed. “I…I’m not sure I know what you mean,” she said faintly.
“You have a part of me inside you. I want it back.”
Her eyes hardened and she faced him with her head held high. “But the only way for you to get it back is to take part of me,” she said boldly. “And I won’t give it up.”
He searched her eyes. She wasn’t going to yield. He had to admire her for that. But it didn’t help his cause.
She saw the consternation in his eyes and impulsively, reached out to touch his arm. “Believe me, if there was anything I could do to make this right for you, I would.” She shook her head. “But don’t you see? You can’t ask me to give up my baby. That just isn’t going to happen.”
She was prepared to accept anger from him, or bitterness, or even frustrated rage. But instead he smiled. And then he reached out and gently touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers, while his dark gaze slowly scanned her features.
Suddenly her heart was thumping in her chest, and she wasn’t sure if it was because he completely discounted the strength of her will, or because a very attractive man was touching her. Either way, she knew she was in trouble.
But he was already drawing back, reaching into his pocket. “Here’s my home phone number,” he said, jotting it down on the back of one of his business cards. “And my address.” He handed her the card. “Let me have your number.”
“Why?” she asked suspiciously.
“So I can harass you with crank calls from dusk till dawn,” he said, giving her a look of pure exasperation. “Come on, Gayle. I need your number.”
Sighing, she wrote down her number on another of his cards.
“There,” she said, handing it over. “See how I trust you?”
A faint smile played with the corners of his mouth as he pocketed the card. “Trust is a precious thing,” he said. “Precious and rare.”
For the first time, she recognized the streak of bitterness in him, the source of the wary distrust that so often filled his eyes even when his lips were smiling. She wondered if his ex-wife had turned him into such a hard man, or if it was a trait he’d always had.
“Why did you decide to have the artificial insemination?” Jack asked her suddenly.
She looked at him, startled. The question seemed too blunt, too personal.
“Why did you?” she countered.
He hesitated. “I wanted a son,” he said at last. “And I didn’t want another wife.”
She opened her mouth to ask more, but he was already shaking his head. “I told you I would explain it all to you at some point, but I don’t want to go into detail right now.” He raised one eyebrow. “Your turn.”
She took a deep breath. “We decided on artificial insemination for the usual reason. We tried the routine way. It didn’t work.” And she set her lips. If he could withhold details, so could she.
But he wasn’t asking for any. “So you thought you’d let professionals handle it,” he commented casually, sitting back with his elbows hanging over the back of the bench, looking at the fountain. His legs were stretched out in front of him, the wool fabric of his slacks pulled taut by the muscles of his thighs.
Gayle noticed, then silently scolded herself for noticing.
“How did you get the name of these clowns across the street?” he asked.
“Through work. We have a health representative who does referrals.” She sighed. “They came very well recommended.”
He nodded. “I researched the field extensively before I decided upon that clinic. They have a very good reputation.” He gazed at her speculatively. “But I thought you said you were unemployed.”
“Laid
