the self-portrait. What she held was no ordinary drawing by a six-year-old. Justin had shown talent early and his parents had given him private art lessons. Bella couldn’t help but wonder what her brothers and sisters could have accomplished if they’d been given all the opportunities afforded Justin by his wealthy parents.
“This is very nicely done, Justin.”
“Thank you.” A grin transformed his solemn expression. Before Bella could be glad that he was acting like a normal six-year-old for a change, he became a serious man-child once more. “I hope you have a nice summer,” he finished in formal tones.
“You, too.”
Pasting on a bright smile, she got to her feet. Inside, her mood reflected the gray sky above. She watched, her chest heavy, until he got into the back of a black Town Car. Most of her fellow teachers were as excited as their students as the end of the school year approached, but Bella wasn’t fond of partings. If she’d had her way, she’d keep her kindergartners forever. But that wasn’t how life worked. Her job was to guide their growth and prepare them for new challenges. As difficult as it was for her, she had to set them free. How else could they soar?
“Bella.”
The sound of her name cut through the excited chatter of children being released from their educational imprisonment. She stiffened, recognizing Blake Ford’s deep voice, even though she hadn’t heard it since late last summer. A rush of joy rooted her to the spot. Twenty feet away the heavy wood doors of St. Vincent’s offered her a place to hide. Common sense urged her to flee. He would be perceptive enough to figure out how miserable she’d been these past nine months and curious enough to wonder why.
Acting as if she hadn’t heard Blake, she pivoted toward the school. But before she could escape, she felt Blake’s long fingers on her left arm. Apprehension shivered along her nerve endings. The light hold prevented her flight and agitated her pulse. He’d had this effect on her from the start. Bracing herself against an unwelcome stab of delight, she turned in his direction.
His wide shoulders, encased in gray wool, blocked her view of the street and the long limo parked at the curb. She gathered a deep breath to steady herself and gulped in a heavy dose of Blake. He smelled of soap—the fresh, clean scent of a mountain stream. No fussy cologne for Blake Ford.
Enigmatic. Intense. Brooding. Blake had fascinated and frightened her at their first meeting at the fertility clinic. But the intuitiveness she’d inherited from Grandma Izzy, for whom she was named, had told her to hear him out on that occasion.
She’d come to New York City to be a surrogate for a couple who’d decided to give in vitro a try, but before she could meet with them, the wife’s best friend offered to carry their child.
Around the same time, Blake and Victoria had come to accept that a surrogate was the only move left for them. Thinking Bella would be a good fit with the power couple, the doctor at the clinic had arranged for Bella to meet Blake and his wife.
Over a cup of coffee, as Blake and Victoria had shared their deep sadness at their inability to conceive, Bella had decided Blake was more than just the successful, driven CEO of a large investment management firm. He was a man with a deep yearning for family.
“Blake, how nice to see you.” Her voice held a breathless edge. She dug her fingernails into her palm and told herself to get a grip. “What brings you to St. Vincent’s?”
His hand fell away. He had no need to keep a physical hold on her. His resolute gaze held her transfixed. “You.”
“Me?” Her stomach somersaulted. “I don’t understand.”
They’d not parted on the best of terms. He hadn’t understood why she wanted no future contact with his family and she had no intention of enlightening him, no matter how insistently he’d pressed her for an explanation. Where did she start?
Her unexpected and unwished-for reluctance to give up the child she’d carried for nine months? The fact that his wife had told her in no uncertain terms that she was never to contact them again? The way his simplest touch sparked something elemental and forbidden? The certainty that she’d betray her moral code if he gave her the slightest inkling that he wanted her?
“You didn’t go back to Iowa like you said you were going to.”
She saw an unyielding wall of accusations in his steel-blue eyes. He was annoyed. Not glad to see her. So why had he come?
“St. Vincent’s asked me back for a second year.” Guilt poked at her, but Bella ignored it. She didn’t owe him anything more than the explanation she gave most everyone. The real reason she’d stayed in New York was because she felt connected to the child she’d carried. But the truth was too troubling and deeply personal to share. “They pay better than the public schools back home.” During their previous association, she’d let him believe she was preoccupied with money. It had kept him from questioning her motivations. “And I’ve really grown to love New York.”
“So your mother said.” He slid his hand into the pocket of his exquisitely tailored suit coat.
“You called my parents?”
“How else did you think I found you?” He regarded her impassively. “She and I had quite a chat. You didn’t tell them the truth about what brought you to New York, did you?”
Bella regarded him with exasperation. Should she have shared with her conservative-leaning parents that she’d lent out her womb to strangers for nine months so she could stop the bank from repossessing the farm that had been in her father’s family for four generations? Not likely. It was better that they believe she’d taken a high-paying job in New York City and been able to secure a personal loan because of that. Her mother had been very upset with her for going into debt for them, but Bella assured her it was something she felt strongly about doing for her family.
“I didn’t want them to worry.”
“In the last nine months, I’ve discovered that worrying is what parents do.”
When his attention shifted to the car behind him, she relaxed slightly, happy to have his focus off her. “I imagine you have.”
She had worries of her own. Was the child she’d given birth to happy? Did he get to see enough of his busy parents? Were they playing peekaboo with him? Reading him a bedtime story? She hated the ache in her heart. It exposed how badly she’d deceived herself.
“I assume my parents were curious about who you were and why you’d called looking for me. What did you tell them?”
“That I was someone you used to work for.”
Which, in a twisted way, wasn’t far from the truth. “Just that?” She couldn’t believe that her mother had given up her whereabouts to a stranger on the phone. Hadn’t she been the tiniest bit suspicious? Of course, Blake had a reassuring way about him. After all, after spending thirty minutes with him, Bella had agreed to act as the surrogate mother to his child. “Or did you have to tell them more?”
“I said you’d taken care of my son and I wanted to see how you were doing.”
“I’m doing just fine.”
His gaze slid over her as if to reassure himself she was indeed well. “You certainly look great.”
“Thanks.”
