with the plethora of reasons all over again. She’d recited A to Z quite thoroughly, twice, the night before last. “But I believe your sincerity in wanting this—” he glanced toward the door as if to make sure no one was within hearing range, and though it was closed, he lowered his voice anyway “—baby. I saw it in your eyes last night. This isn’t some freaked-out biological-clock whim. This is the real deal.”
She nodded her head vehemently.
“I trust you’ll stick to your word about my small role in it.”
“To the T, Jon. I promise.” Oh, heavens, she didn’t want to anticipate too much, but it sounded as if he might take her up on the plan. She could only hope and pray. And hold her breath.
“It feels really callous on my part knowing how I plan to take a sabbatical and all, and I care about you as a coworker, and, well, I don’t want things to change professionally.” He scrubbed his jaw, and the now-familiar facial hair. “This could really ruin our working together.”
“I wouldn’t want that, either, Jon.” Oh, hell, in his swinging pendulum of emotions he’d convinced her from one second to the next to give up on him. Did she really want to sacrifice their professional friendship because of her desire for a baby? Could she blame him for wanting nothing to do with her outrageous plan?
“I’d want to think we could talk things through whenever we needed,” he said. “That though I’d be nothing more than a clinical donor as far as the baby goes, I’d like to be your friend. And as a friend and donor I should be able to share in your happiness, like everyone else here in the clinic.”
She nodded at his reasonable request, afraid to get too hopeful in case he pulled the rug out from under her dream. “I’d want that, too. I don’t want to lose what we have, Jon. Never.”
He stepped closer. “What do we have, you and me?”
He studied her eyes, making her feel under a microscope. Those winged creatures returned, dropping anxious nectar over the surface of her skin. She took a slow, intentional, quivery breath.
“We have five years of hard work and wonderful achievements to share,” she said. “We’ve laughed, celebrated, mourned and prevailed together over every setback in our clinic.” She took a step closer to reach out for his hand. “No matter what happens, if you say yes, you will always be a special friend, Jon.” His long fingers laced through hers, still feeling foreign, though warm, regardless of how many times she’d clutched his hand lately.
“No one can know a thing,” he cautioned. “If it comes out, I’ll leave the clinic.”
The importance of anonymity worried her. As with any risk, there was a cost. Was she willing to accept the guilt of changing Jon’s future if someone found out? Was she willing to let him pay the price? Confidence leaked out of her pores, leaving her insecure and wobbly. Maybe plan A was the only way to go, but Jon gently stroked her thumb with his, and a silent soothing message transmitted between them.
“I promise,” she whispered. A sharp pang in her gut, over the thought of ruining whatever relationship they had, forced her to face the gravity of their possible pact. This was it. Right here, right now. Her dream, their deal, was about to become a reality. The air grew cool and seemed to rush over the surface of her skin, setting off goose bumps.
His molasses-brown gaze swept over her face, as if searching for honesty. Could he look deep enough to see the longings of her heart? She’d meant what she’d said with all of her being.
“After you’re pregnant, I want superfriend status.” A tiny tug at one corner of his mouth almost turned into a smile.
“You’ll do it?” She grabbed his other hand and squeezed both, reeling with hope. The surge pushed her up onto her toes, ready to jump up and down, or kiss his cheek, based on his final decision.
“Yes,” he said. “I’ll do it.”
At the beautiful sound of his reply, she did both.
Chapter Three
THE reward for getting the exquisitely lovely René Munroe to smile was one large dimple and a satisfying hint of an overbite. Jon had once read a study on facial esthetics and found that, in general, men preferred a slight overbite. Come to think of it, seeing her grin like that, he did, too. She’d squealed, jumped up and kissed his cheek when he’d agreed to go through with her plan. She’d kissed him so hard he felt the imprint of her lips half the afternoon. He’d never seen her so animated, and it surprised him, made him wonder how much more there was to know about her.
Since his divorce, after work, he liked his alone time. Preferred it. He’d already done his run for the day and wasn’t sure how else to work off this new itchy feeling. And oddly enough, the last thing he felt like being right this minute was alone. Sure he had a day filled with patients ahead of him, but what about after that? He wouldn’t get his girls until the weekend.
“You want to go for a coffee after work?” he blurted. The thought of going home to his “man cave”—as his daughters facetiously referred to it—after such a momentous agreement, had little appeal. “We should probably get to know each other a little more.”
“That sounds perfect,” she said.
Perfect. She used the word frequently, and when it came to describing her it suited…well…it suited her perfectly.
“I’ll see you later, then,” he said, heading for the door with a new spring in his jogging shoes.
At the end of the workday, they locked the clinic and hiked the two blocks over to State Street, and caught the electric trolley heading north to an alfresco coffeehouse. They’d committed to coffee, not dinner. It was a start. Even though it was late January, the temperature was sixty-five degrees, and the outdoor restaurants all had outdoor heating lamps for their patrons’ comfort. If he inhaled deep enough, he could smell the crisp, tangy sea.
“Do you ever get tired of delivering babies?” he asked, as they rode.
“No. It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”
Jon nodded and thought back to the birth of both of his daughters. Amanda had been born at a midwife center eighteen years back, and Lacy, at home, under water, eighteen months later. His ex-wife had wanted it that way. He’d felt as if he’d run a marathon after each labor and delivery, but had never been more ecstatic in his life. Watching Jason and Claire last night had brought back long-forgotten memories.
Somehow lecturing patients about their tickers didn’t quite measure up, though of course he understood the importance of the heart sustaining life. It just couldn’t quite compare with the theatrical bang of a delivery.
“I never thought I’d see Jason happy again,” she said.
Hmm? Oh, he’d taken a tangential thought trip, and quickly focused back in. “I guess there’s hope for all of us, then,” Jon said, deciding, on a scale of one to ten, he probably sat around six on the happy meter—not ecstatic, not miserable, just making due, especially since his divorce.
He’d forgotten what this type of elation felt like, being more used to the endorphin variety from his long and hard runner workouts. Emotional highs were…well…unusual
