as if she’d lost her mind.
As Patty fired questions at her with the rapidity of a Gatling gun, Samantha just smiled. Patty was a lawyer, a borderline feminist and a damn good friend.
The two had met shortly after Samantha’s arrival in New York City. She’d been coming out of Bloomingdale’s after an interview that had gone nowhere, while Patty had been on her way in, to buy fabulous clothing, no doubt.
Colliding in one of those purses-flying incidents that had them howling in laughter, they had hit it off immediately and been best girlfriends ever since—probably because Patty had as many opinions as Samantha did, and never hesitated to voice them. But she was a whole lot tougher than Samantha, owing to the fact that she had to compete in the legal profession with ego-driven males, who viewed the attractive woman as little more than a sex object. But then, men often thought with their dicks, not their brains.
With deep auburn hair, pretty green eyes and a killer body, Counselor Patricia Bradshaw was hot and knew it. In fact, Patty played on that image. She hadn’t met too many men in her thirty-four years that she didn’t want to try on for size, and fortunately for her, most of them fit. But Patty was also a damn good attorney who’d won the majority of her cases and was considered an ace in her field of employment law.
“Okay, I didn’t say that right. What I meant to say is, I want to have a baby. It’s all I’ve been thinking about lately.” Obsessing would probably have been a more accurate term.
Patty gulped her wine, poured herself another glass and then looked Samantha straight in the eye. “Are you crazy? Have you lost whatever sense you were born with? A child will tie you down, destroy your life as you know it, not to mention that you’re not married. Not that that’s a requirement these days, but it sure as hell makes things easier.”
“Well, I can’t help that. I want to have a baby, and I’m not going to change my mind. I’m thirty-one. My time is running out. If I don’t do this now, it’ll be too late.”
“But you’re not even dating seriously at the moment. How are you planning to get pregnant?”
Samantha shrugged, forking a cucumber into her mouth while she continued talking—something her mother always chided her about. “Of course, I’d love to get pregnant the old-fashioned way, with someone I love, or at least care about. But I have to be realistic. I’ve dated most of the men in this city, or at least it seems that way, and I haven’t met my Prince Charming yet. At this point, it’s doubtful I’m going to.” A fair assessment, based on the last two dates she’d had, which had been nothing short of disastrous.
Lyle Prentice had stared at her chest all through dinner, which normally would have been flattering, since Samantha wasn’t that well endowed, until one considered the fact that Lyle was a plastic surgeon who had offered to provide her with a pair of breast implants at cost.
And then there’d been Bob Bartlett, a fastidious accountant who kept excusing himself to floss his teeth after every kiss they’d shared, as if her mouth was loaded with gingivitis.
The frogs definitely outnumbered the princes.
“There is no Prince Charming. That’s a fairy tale for little girls and dreamers, which is why I just go for the sex. Marriage is for wimps, and ‘love’ is a far dirtier four-letter word than ‘fuck,’ if you ask me.”
It was obvious that someone in Patty’s past had hurt her very deeply. But she’d never confided in Samantha about it, and Samantha wasn’t about to ask. “I don’t want to get married either, Patty, which complicates matters a wee bit.”
The woman’s big green eyes got even bigger. “No kidding, it complicates matters!”
“I know you think I’m stupid for wanting to do this, but I’m determined.”
“Determined to do what, ruin your life?” Patty shook her head, her tone softening somewhat. “I don’t think you’re stupid, Samantha. I think you’re insane. There’s a difference. But if you’re positive that having a baby is really what you want, then there’s always in vitro fertilization. You could use a sperm donor.”
Samantha smiled gratefully, knowing her friend’s effort to be conciliatory didn’t come easy. “That’s what I’ve been thinking, too. But I intend to explore all my options first.” She heaved a sigh. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and someone will happen along and—”
“That would require you to have unprotected sex, and that’s a one-way ticket to the morgue. Better to be safe than sorry. Don’t do anything stupid. Promise me, Samantha.”
Samantha’s brows rose. “Are you saying you use a condom every time you have sex? Hell, that must cost you a fortune.”
Patty threw back her head and laughed, a throaty, sensual sound, and it wasn’t surprising that men found the woman irresistible. Well, except for Jack, who found Patty too in-your-face and, well, too masculine to suit him.
Samantha shook her head. “Just think about it. In our mothers’ day, all women had to worry about with regard to having sex was getting pregnant. Now we have to consider all kinds of diseases, including MASH.”
“MASH? That’s a new one on me,” Patty said, her brows drawing together in confusion.
She grinned. “Men Actually Staying Hard.”
Her friend laughed again. “Honey, no worries about that. We have Viagra now. It’s the best invention since air-conditioning.”
“Yeah, only Viagra makes you hot, not cold.”
“Amen to that!”
THAT SAME AFTERNOON across town, Jack and his coworker, Tom Adler, were knee-deep in discussion about their favorite topic: Acme Realty’s new sales manager.
“I’m sick and tired of that asshole,” Jack said. “O’Leary pulled three more leads from me today and gave them to Susan. And that woman couldn’t sell her way out of a paper bag if her life depended on it.”
Leaning back in his swivel chair, which squeaked like nails raking a blackboard, Tom replied, “Susan’s got some attributes you don’t possess, my friend.” At Jack’s confused look, he smiled. “Her rack is a lot bigger than yours. The scuttlebutt around the office is that O’Leary’s trying to get in her pants, but my bet is he already has. Mike’s been looking pretty smug lately.”
Grimacing in disgust, Jack shut the door to Tom’s office behind him, taking the chair in front of the metal desk. As Acme’s two top agents, they were the only salespeople to rate private offices. The other agents worked on the main floor in cubicles.
Of course, Mike O’Leary had already threatened to change that policy. He’d come in four months ago to replace the retiring Will Price, and things at Acme had immediately begun going downhill.
First the lunchroom had been turned into a copy center. There were no more office parties to celebrate birthdays or big sales. Then O’Leary had replaced the contract forms with more confusing ones that took ten times longer to fill out, all in the name of progress.
Mike reminded Jack of his dad—-self-important, domineering and ego-driven—which was one of the reasons he disliked the man so much, and didn’t speak well of Jack’s relationship with his father.
“I’ll
