of nice-guy stunt he was trying to pull. “You want to help me select the father of my baby?”
“Sure. Why not?” He tilted his head nearly all the way to the side, as if he was sizing her up somehow. “Remember when I used to help you with your chemistry homework?”
“Yes, of course.” He was good with numbers. Math and science came easily to him. “But this isn’t a school project.”
“I know.” He righted the angle of his head. “But we’re like family, you and me. The least I can do is support you on this however I can.”
“Thank you.” Suddenly she wanted to touch him, to put her hands where they didn’t belong, to skim his exquisite jawline, to run her fingers through his still-damp hair. “That means a lot to me.” More than it should. It even made her imagine him being the donor, which was about the dumbest thought she could’ve had. She wiped it out of her mind, but it spiraled back, undermining her common sense.
He asked, “Should we do it tonight?”
She struggled to comprehend what he meant. Her brain wasn’t behaving. She was still stuck on the stupid notion of him being the donor, which was complete and utter lunacy.
“Should we do what?” she finally asked.
“Look through the sperm-bank sites. I’ll ask Chef to make a batch of his double-chocolate-chip cookies, and I’ll bring them with me. I know how chocolate helps center you.”
“Yes, let’s do it,” she said, finally managing to rid her jumbled mind of the idea of having his child. “Let’s go through the sites tonight.” She needed to find a donor, a stranger.
And she was going to make sure it was someone who looked nothing like Tommy, someone who didn’t have the slightest thing in common with him.
Tommy sat next to Sophie at the computer desk in her home office, where they’d been for the past hour. She scrolled the donor search catalogs she’d bookmarked.
He could barely believe this was happening. Not just her wanting a baby, but the fact she was resigning as his tour manager. She was supposed to be a permanent fixture on the road, a constant he could count on. Sure, she would be an asset to his business management team. But that wasn’t the same as her managing his tours. Life on the road was the soul of his existence, what he loved most about his job, and Sophie had always been part of it.
He studied her profile and the way her unruly hair framed her face, with one strand falling farther forward than the rest. He’d always been fascinated with her hair. When they were kids, she’d kept it short. She was just the cutest thing back then, following him everywhere he went. He wished that she was still trailing after him, instead of bailing out to have a baby.
So far, her donor search wasn’t going well. She rejected one guy after the next. But Tommy didn’t mind. He hoped that she might forget the whole idea, anyway.
With a sigh, she reached for one of the cookies he’d brought, dunked it in her milk and took a gooey bite. She kept dunking and eating until it was gone.
A second later, she licked the lingering mess from her lips, making him hungry to kiss her. Of course, that wasn’t anything new. He’d been longing to taste that pouty mouth of hers since they were teenagers. If he thought he could haul her off to bed, he would strip her bare this very instant. Some people believed that sex between friends would complicate matters, but Tommy wasn’t of that mind-set. Of course he had to consider Sophie’s feelings, and he understood that being friends with benefits wasn’t her style. She’d made that clear a long time ago.
He leaned closer to get a whiff of her perfume. She always smelled so sweet and good.
She shot him a wary frown. “What are you doing?”
He lied like a schoolboy. “You’re blocking my view.” Earlier she’d attached a large monitor, mouse and keyboard to her laptop to make their joint effort easier; he could see just fine.
“Sorry.” She rolled aside her chair, obviously trying to make room for him. “Is that better?”
He nodded and made a show of looking at the screen, where her latest rejection, a surfer-type dude, offered his best smile. “Why are they all so young?”
“This particular bank only accepts donors in their mid-to-late twenties.”
“And you’re okay with that?” He didn’t like the idea one bit. “It’s as if you’re robbing the cradle or something.”
She shook her head. “What about you and those fine young groupies who worship at your feet? At least I’m only looking at these guys for—”
“How smart and handsome and virile they are,” he interjected. As much as he hated to admit it, he was getting envious of the donors. It almost seemed as if she was searching for a lover. “Maybe you really should send in some pictures of me. You can dredge some up from when I was in my twenties.” He paused for effect. “If you’re lucky, there might be a match.”
She sat back in her chair, giving him a disapproving look. “Gee, could you be any more conceited?”
“Don’t act like you don’t think I’m hot because I know you do.” He grabbed the mouse and changed her search criteria, putting in physical features that matched his. He didn’t care if he was annoying her. By now, she should be used to his pesky personality. “Let’s see who pops up.”
She turned away. “Do whatever you want, but I’m not interested.”
“Yeah, right.” He didn’t believe that for a second. Sooner or later, she would sneak a curious peek.
He delved into his task. There were a variety of donors with his body type, as well as hair, skin and eye coloring. Not all of them had pictures available. He focused on the ones who did.
While he searched, Sophie wolfed down two more cookies. She was still avoiding looking at the screen. It didn’t matter, anyway. He couldn’t find anyone who fit the bill.
“Never mind,” he said. “They’re all dorks.”
“Really?” She slanted him a sideways glance. “Every last one of them?”
He gestured to the monitor. “Take a gander for yourself.”
“All right, I will.” She settled back into place. “What about him?” She clicked on a candidate Tommy hadn’t given a second thought to—a guy with longish hair and a one-sided grin.
He scrutinized the picture, wondering what the hell she was thinking. “He doesn’t look like me.”
“His smile does. His hair would, too, if he cut it and styled it like yours.” She read the profile. “Oh, and get this? He performs in musical theater.”
Tommy rolled his eyes. “Oh, right. That’s all you need, for your baby to come out singing show tunes.”
She laughed. “Now who’s being a dork?”
“I’m
