frowned as he considered the matter. How could the clinic make a mistake? What if some woman had learned about Kane’s “contribution” and asked for his sperm on purpose? After all, Kane was a rich and powerful man, and women had been using pregnancy for ages to trap men into proposing.
If so, then Lauren was definitely out of the running, he decided. He wasn’t sure he’d convinced Kane, but Rafe had no doubts at all on the matter. He knew the woman—hell, he knew her better than anyone. They’d talked quite a bit over the years; were pretty good friends, as well as boss and secretary. She would never do something like that. It just wasn’t in her makeup to chase after a man. Lauren would never try to trap a guy into marriage.
Still, he could understand why Kane might have suspected her of wanting a baby. When one of the women had brought her newborn into the office a few weeks ago, Lauren’s face had lit up like a kid’s at Christmas. She’d fussed and cooed over the little one, and had even held it for a while—a rather risky move, in Rafe’s opinion. Not only was the kid alarmingly tiny, it spit up more than a fountain in the park.
But Lauren hadn’t minded. Yeah, there was something—not maternal exactly—but definitely nurturing about his secretary. A slight smile curved his lips, and he leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on his desk. Hell, she even worried about him at times—that he was working too hard or might be tired. There was a kindness, a gentle way about Lauren, that made her seem like the sort of woman who should have a bunch of kids around her knees. Pulling at her with sticky little hands. Clamoring for attention.
Rafe grimaced. Talk about a nightmare. But Lauren would handle it—revel in it probably. No doubt she would have a baby some day—far, far in the future. But now? No way. As he’d told Kane, she didn’t even date. Whenever he asked her to work late, she never had a moment’s hesitation in complying. Besides, they’d been so busy lately, she wouldn’t have had time to meet a man, even if she wanted to.
Although…Rafe frowned, lowering his feet and straightening up again…although it appeared she had met one guy at least. This Jay Leonardo person. Her neighbor.
He shrugged that off. Just because the guy gave her a ride to work, didn’t mean she’d gone out with him. Surely she would have mentioned it if she had.
Restlessly, he looked around for one more paper to throw before he settled down to work. Since his desk was clear except for Lauren’s notepad, he pulled that closer to tear off a sheet. But when he turned the pad over, he realized she’d made some kind of list on it. That figured; Lauren was always making lists. More than once he’d watched her tick off the items she’d compiled, smug satisfaction on her face as she made each mark.
To his amusement, he saw that this time she’d doodled little pictures next to each of the reminders she’d written down. In her small, compressed handwriting she’d written: Take gifts to women’s shelter. Boxed presents were next to that one, each adorned with an elaborate bow.
Number two was Buy decorations for company Christmas party, surrounded by round balls he took to be ornaments.
The third item didn’t appear to make much sense. Don’t forget the… he squinted, trying to make the last two words out …Barbie bottoms? He didn’t think so. Booby battles? Nope. He was pretty sure it wasn’t that either.
The doodle beside it proved equally confusing, so his gaze dropped to number four on the list. Buy a special present for Jay. Rafe stared at the happy face beaming beside the words, and his amusement faded. So she was buying presents for the guy, was she? His eyes narrowed. Then she probably was dating him, after all.
His eyes narrowed even more as he scanned the final item, the one she’d scribbled down before playing basketball. Buy presents for Rafe’s women. What did she mean by that? he thought, irritated by her phrasing. They weren’t his women—not specifically, anyway. What did she think he was? Some kind of sheik or something? He might like to play the field, but he wasn’t stupid enough to put too many players in the game at once. All three women were just friends and nothing more. At least, so far.
And what had she drawn next to the words? He turned the pad this way and that, then picked it up and held it closer, trying to make out the tiny picture. A cowboy with a lasso? Santa with a whip? He stiffened as he realized there were horns on Santa’s head. She’d drawn a devil, dammit, with its tail curling around to the front. Ending up in a place no tail had any business to be!
He leaned back, slightly stunned, unable to take his eyes off the offensive little stick figure cavorting in the margin. What the hell was this all about? he wondered, his annoyance growing even stronger. Okay, maybe he had virtually forced her to agree to buy the women gifts—but that didn’t make him Satan, for heaven’s sake! Never would he have believed Lauren could—would—draw something so downright graphic.
But since she had, that made booby battles a definite possibility, he decided, his gaze returning to number three. Both indecipherable words definitely began with B and—Ah, yes! The squiggle next to them was a bottle. Now he had it! Don’t forget the Barbie bottles. What the…? Damn. That still didn’t make any sense.
He studied the words once more. Suddenly, his stomach turned, as if the flu bug scurrying around the office had just attacked with a vengeance. That first word wasn’t Barbie but…baby. His jaw tightened as he read the sentence again.
Don’t forget the baby bottles.
By six that evening, Lauren was feeling much better. The thick, chalky pink medicine she’d forced down had soothed her upset stomach, and a long afternoon nap had done much to soothe her upset nerves.
She even felt well enough when she awoke to straighten the apartment. Once that chore was finished, she took a long hot shower then donned a comfortable sweat suit and slippers to lounge around in.
Feeling clean and cozy, she wandered into the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea, sipping it as she stared out the kitchen window. Dusk had already fallen, and lights from nearby houses gleamed through the barren trees and darkness. The view blurred as steam condensed on her glasses. Slipping them off, Lauren laid them on the counter, then realized the window was hazy, too.
She set down her cup. Leaning forward, she reached out to draw a Christmas tree in the mist. The freezing cold pane burned then numbed her fingertip. Outside, snowflakes pelted against the glass in a brief, desperate flurry. But inside her apartment she was warm and safe…and alone.
Her hand dropped. Lauren stared at her drawing as it slowly disappeared into the mist again. She liked being alone, she told herself. She was used to it. Even as a child, she’d been something of an introvert—my little dreamer, her mother used to call her. She’d always felt more content with her books, her own thoughts and daydreams, than hanging out with a crowd.
Of course, she hadn’t been completely alone then; she’d had her mother. Most people had at least some family—parents, siblings, even an aunt or an uncle or two. Or they were married by her age. Sharon Davies in accounting was only a year older, and she’d recently married a handsome widower. Jennifer Holder was near her age, and she’d recently tied the knot, too, and already had a baby. Most of the other single women at work at least had a lover. She had no one.
But just because a person was alone didn’t mean that they were lonely, she reminded herself. She straightened her shoulders and picked up her cup. Take Rafe, for instance. Like her, he’d lost both parents, although he’d lost them much, much younger than she had. Rafe wasn’t married either—and he liked it that way. Not that anyone could ever call him an introvert. He enjoyed women—lots of women.
She
