Disbelief and outrage shot through Nick. Surely he hadn't heard right. Did the lady say . . . sperm? He finally found his voice. "What? Are you crazy?" He stood up. "You don't go around asking a total stranger something like that." He flailed his hands in the air dramatically. "It's crazy! You're crazy! It's—indecent."
"You're shocked. I expected a reaction. At least you haven't made a run for the door."
"I can't. My legs are in shock, too."
But his eyes found hers, and a strange compassion filled him again. He didn't know why. Something about her expression held more than words. Poor woman, she probably couldn't get a man of her own. But this—
"I know that sounds blunt. But I've learned it's always best to state your goal. I'm a woman, and I run a multi-million dollar business. My branch alone brings in twenty-five million a year. It's taken some time to establish myself as a corporate executive. In my line of work a woman has to push hard to be respected, especially if she's the boss. I've worked like the devil. I'm a success because of it. I've always known exactly what I've wanted and I've gotten it. This is no different."
Compassion and outrage warred. "And now you want a sperm donation? Just like that? As though we were talking about salt and pepper passed across the table. It ain't decent."
"I've shocked you?" She picked up the rattle and tapped it against her palm. "Come, come, Mr. Leonetti, I thought you'd be hard to shock, a big tough guy like you. Your application reads like a refugee from a war zone. You've attacked every job from truck driving to mud wrestling. How can something like this throw you?"
Big, maybe from her point of view, he was probably a half foot taller than her. Tough sure. But crazy, not. He tilted his head, pulled at his tie again, cleared his throat and waited for the right answer to come. It didn't.
"You've got the wrong man." He finally forced the words from his mouth.
Kelsey firmed her lips, narrowed her gaze and crossed her arms over her chest. Raw determination glared at him. His words hadn't deterred her. "Oh, are you sterile?"
Sterile? It was a challenge, a gauntlet. Nick felt his blood pounding in his head. He didn't deserve this. All he wanted was a job.
His nostrils flared, as he wiped his face with his hand. He wondered what might happen if he slowly kissed away her judgmental expression and opened that straight linen jacket of hers. In ten minutes he could make a real woman out of her, change her entire attitude, and make her think sterile. Damn, he'd been way too long without a woman! That wasn't his style though.
He blew out breath, as he willed his body to calm. "Not that I know of, no. But I came here under the impression this was a sheet-metal company. I figured you were looking for a warehouse foreman, or shipyard crew. Not—not something like this."
"It is a sheet-metal company Nick. And I have a full crew right now. But what I don't have is a sperm donor."
"You can say that again, lady." Geez. No way was he going to give this woman what she 'wanted'.
She sighed heavily, as though the weight of the world were on her shoulders. "I should be used to dealing with this reaction. As I said earlier, three of the others stormed out of here this morning as though I'd shot them. But Nick, there isn't an easy way to approach the subject. I figured bluntness might be best. I know it's a big thing to ask of any person."
The way she wrung her hands made Nick stop and consider her request for just a second. This couldn't be easy for a woman like her, he reflected. Not for Goody-Two-Shoes. But there was nothing short of moving the earth that would make him agree to something like this. So why was she proposing such an outlandish thing in the first place?
If it hadn't been for that sultry voice, he'd been out of here by now. But damn if he wasn't turned on by the woman. It was crazy but he found himself wondering what her hair might be like if he undid the clasp, and what lay beneath that dowdy linen suit and thick set of glasses. Forget it, he silently scolded himself. She's crazy!
"Look, I thought this was a job."
She leaned forward, her expression earnest, almost pleading. "Oh, it is. It is, Nick. This isn't personal, believe me. I mean, I don't expect it to be. It can all be taken care of clinically. I've made all the arrangements; all I have to do is find a donor. And I will pick my own donor. But there are a few things that have to be done first—if you agree to it."
Of course he wouldn't agree to it! Did she need it in writing? Mama would pin his ears back for staying as long as he had, if she knew.
The word 'No', was on the tip of his tongue, but instead he heard himself saying, "Such as?"
"First," Her face lit with hope. "I'll need to run a complete check on your background. Have a medical history done. This will require more information than you might be willing to give. I see you listed no medical problems, but of course that would have to be checked out. You listed a lot of jobs. On an ordinary resume that wouldn't look good. It hints at instability. There's probably a reason behind all of them, but I don't have the time or the inclination to delve into it."
"Look, don't bother. There's nothing wrong with my background, medical or otherwise. As for the jobs, it's real simple. My family comes first. A lot of bosses just don't seem to get the message. But that's how it is in my family. That's why I'm not the right guy. I've got enough obligations for now."
He wanted to shake some sense into her, but he'd never manhandled a woman and he certainly wouldn't start now.
"Nonsense." She cleared her throat. The arrogance was gone from her face. "I'm glad to hear it, Nick. And I find you a very well-rounded man. You are a street-wise, self-educated man who happens to have morals, too. I like that. But naturally, I'd need more information. I'd have you investigated; I want you to understand that. I'm an honest person. Then you'd be sent to a clinic and tested for sperm count and a complete physical, that is, if you pass the background check. Assuming you are 100% healthy we'll draw up a contract that in effect makes me the legal guardian of the child. You'll have no further responsibilities. That's all there is to it."
She made it sound like a formula for a corporate deal. But she still hadn't got his message yet.
"Is that all?" Nick respected the lady, even went as far as feeling sorry for her, but now, he was rethinking it. Not that she hadn't calculated his every move. That was the problem, it was too calculated. The woman was obviously suffering from delusions. No further responsibilities? Who was she kidding? Babies weren't born that way—in a clinic, with no responsibilities. They spelled responsibilities, with a capital R. Besides, babies were meant to be born out of love and affection and family. Who was she trying to kid?
"No." She took her glasses off and wiped at her eyes. Nick saw fatigue, and something else, something deeper, something that made him feel protective of her. He didn't want to feel protective.
Strange, he'd decided she didn't have eyes when he first walked in, but he was wrong. She had beautiful blue eyes, the kind a man remembers for a long, long time.
She stood up and paced, her shoulders bunching.
Nick's thoughts went into overdrive.
She strummed her fingers against her upper arms as she crossed them again. "You haven't walked out yet, so I'm assuming you're considering this. I'd want to explain a few things. Things you probably aren't aware of. You see, I'm from a very wealthy family. My parents expect me to marry and have children. And as long as the prospective husband has a couple of million in the bank, they'll be satisfied. But that's not for me. I've been down that road once, it didn't work."
She looked away, her expression pensive. Nick's gaze lingered on her face, squelching the need to reach out and console her. So she'd been hurt, that might explain a few things. But you didn't go off the deep end just because someone hurt you. She looked stronger than that.
Kelsey faced him, her eyes luminous and big. "I really want a child, Nick. I've always wanted one. But I can't go through another marital disaster. I won't." She glanced at him, and then went on. "Naturally, I've already gone to the sperm
bank and spoke with them about this. They are very understanding. But I just couldn't go along with the insemination process. Not their way. I wouldn't know the father. And it's important to know the father, even though I don't expect him to be around. There are qualities in a man I want to pass on to my child, traits, looks, personality. And yes, I'm looking for something even deeper than that. So you see, if I'm willing to go to that link for what I want, I'll go a step farther and choose the man I want for the job. It can be done. I've already inquired. They'll work with me, any way I choose. After all, I'm doing all the footwork so to speak. But make no mistake, Nick, I'm the one who wants this baby. It will be my baby!"
Her vehemence didn't deter Nick from his own convictions. So she wanted a kid, so what? Didn't mean he had to compromise his principles for her. "Doesn't the father have any say in this?"
"I'm not advertising for a father. I'm looking for a sperm donor. There's a big difference."
He twisted his head sideways. Okay, someone had hurt her and naturally, Goody-Two-Shoes wasn't about to get hurt again. No, she was too smart for that.
"Maybe so, but it's pretty hard to rule out a father, lady. Having a baby takes two people, a woman and a man."
"Unfortunately, yes. I've considered other options, but this is the only acceptable answer for me." Her voice faded away as though sadness gripped her.
Nick stared.
"No, the only thing I want is a baby—without the man."
"I figured that part out, but why?"
"Why?" She stared blankly at him for a moment, as though the question had never been asked. "That's my concern." She lifted her chin a notch.
"A man helps you bring life into this world and he isn't entitled to know why? Don't you think he's a little involved? You can't have everything your way."
"You're right, of course. Okay, if you decide to try this—I'll tell you. Fair enough?"
Their eyes met and held for a long breathless moment. Then slowly he shook his head. "Nah. I'm not interested in one way deals. What about the guy the note was intended for?"
"George? I doubt he'd have any part of it, now that I think about it. The note wasn't a preconceived idea. George plays everything by the book. I'm glad it was misdirected. You probably saved a friendship."
"You'd rather have a baby by a stranger?"
"The more I think on it, yes. Fewer complications. Besides, George wouldn't like my terms."
"Terms? You got terms?"
She looked him straight in the eye, and he realized again with surprise she was pretty. God, he was losing it. Next thing you know he'd be asking her out on a date.
"Yes, it's called a contract. I wouldn't dream of doing something this important without it. No strings. No personal involvement. Nothing to argue about. Everything covered. This is strictly a business arrangement. It's a job, and that's all. That's why I advertised. Naturally, I'll need a man with a high sperm count. That's why you'll be subjected to tests, which can all be accomplished with one visit. I've waited long enough. I need quick results."
"Just science to you, huh?"
"Almost, yes."
"Then why not just adopt?"
"Oh, no, that would never do. The baby must have O'Sullivan blood. We're a rather old and proud Irish family. I'm obligated to carry on the bloodline in some respect at least. I took my maiden name back when I divorced. My baby will be an O'Sullivan. Besides, it takes much too long for a single woman to adopt."
His brow shot up, questioningly.
"And, no, I'm not off my rocker, as I assume you're thinking." She wrung her hands once more and Nick saw the inner turmoil in her eyes. "You've passed one test. You're still here. You must need money badly if you'd consider a job from something so trivial as a note in a restaurant."
The barb stung, but what could Nick say. He was desperate for cash. One job wasn't enough for what he needed to do.
She sat down again, her posture very regal, her hands tightening against the armrest. Slipping on her glasses she looked at the application again.
"I see you still live with your mother."
"I take care of my mother and family."
"Oh, then you're—" She swallowed, "—married?"
"No wife, just a mother, a sister and a younger brother to look after. My two older brothers married and moved off."
"You're Italian?"
"That's right."
"You're Catholic?"
"Also right." His voice started to harden.
"That could be a drawback."
Nick nodded and this time he stared directly at her until she met his gaze. "I'm from an old Italian family, and believe me; babies aren't born into this world that way. Not where I come from."
A blush crept across her cheeks. "Of course, I understand."
Did she? He doubted that.
"I'm Irish Catholic." she continued. "I realize what I'm asking of you, Nick. Your only consolation might be the money. So tell me, why do you need it so badly?"
"We rent on 47th street." He cleared his throat. "In Clinton, better known to most as 'Hell's Kitchen. My mama, sister and younger brother, live there too, I take care of them. I own a garage on 44th."
"Oh, you live in Midtown West?"
"No ma'am. Hell's Kitchen. It'll always be Hell's Kitchen no matter how many skyscrapers they decide to put up. No matter how many tenement buildings they tear down."
"I see. You are a product of the zoning wars?"
"That's it. I want my family outta there. It ain't the same anymore, with rice wars on rent, porn shops offering top dollar for land. We got rid of some of the problems and earned a few more in the process. I'm sure you're aware. Reconstruction sometimes causes people to rebel, in one way or another. Not everyone can adjust to change, nor afford them. No, I want to buy Mama a house in Queens, in a quiet little neighborhood. I want to give them a better life."
"That's understandable. But why move, if reconstruction is improving the area, why not just move into a newer apartment building?"
"Nah, If I'm going to pay those prices at least I want something worth it in the long run. A real house–a home. And I'm willing to work two jobs to get it. Three if necessary. It's something I been promising Mama for years. A place of her own. Where she can grow flowers and the kids can walk to school without fear."
"I see. Tell me about this garage of yours?"
"It's just a hole in the wall. I tinker with older cars, ya know the classics. It's not a business anymore, just a hang-out. A place for me to go. It don't bring in much, not in that neighborhood."
"Doesn't?"
"Huh?"
"I said it doesn't bring in much." She paused, grimacing slightly. "Sorry, bad habit I have of correcting people."
He didn't need this. No one needed to remind him of his lack of education, or that he was Italian, or Catholic. He stood and walked slowly to the door. "Look, I'd like to help, but I'm not the right guy."
"Nick, wait! Won't you reconsider? I happen to think you might be the right guy."
He turned to look at her again. "How do you figure?"
"A man that supports and cares for his family is exactly the kind of person I'm looking for. A good man. You're dependable even though your job history doesn't reflect it. I detect a strong sense of character in you. I like that. It's rather hard to find these days. I like—you. Now, tell me what happened to your father. Why isn't he supporting your family?"
Startled by her shift in subject, Nick hesitated, "I don't wanna waste your time."
"I have to ask, Nick."
Why was he still here, putting up with her nosey questions?
"Please tell me."
"My dad left us. Enough said. A lot of dads walk out. He drank too much, didn't work enough."
"Drugs?"
"Nah, gambling and drinking and other women, mostly."
"I see." Her expression softened on him again, her voice lowered. "How painful for you. Were you very young?"
Her compassion confused him.
He didn't need pity; he needed to get out of here. "No, look, I was grown, okay? He done good to leave, I might have killed him if he'd hung around much longer. Tony was still little. I was twenty one, trying to decide whether to go to trade school or the army."
"And you went to work instead, and supported your family." She cleared her throat, her expression softening on him. Pretty soon she'd be pinning medals on his chest and telling him what a hero he was. She had blinders on.
He didn't want pity or concern, and yet the very fact that she sympathized forced him to rethink his opinion of her—again. This stone woman, a woman who would ask for sperm so casually, apparently cared about people and their troubles. A woman from so different a world, who could understand. So what? That didn't mean he had to get her pregnant, did it?
"Look, Nick, I'm taking the time to find the right man, and I can make it worth your time."
"You'd pay me to go through with these tests?"
"Naturally. At least you won't lose any money being off work, and it might be worth the effort for both of us. As I said, this is strictly business. Contracts will have to be drawn. The money would be sufficient to take care of all your family's needs. I'd see to that."
"What if we don't get along?"
"That's irrelevant. This isn't personal. Please understand that."
He took a step toward her, leaning toward her. "You want to have my baby and that's not personal? You like a person who recognizes responsibilities, but you don't want me to hang around? That doesn't jive."
"Not in the way you're thinking at least. I'd want to get to know you for the child's sake, naturally. She'll want to know what her daddy was really like."
The woman was already determining sex. She'd really preplanned this, maybe down to the last detail. But even she wasn't God.
Daddy, he liked that sound. It warmed him. And a little girl, nice. But it was crazy and he wasn't about to do it.
"What about you?"
"Me?"
"Yeah. What qualifies you to be a mother? And who's gonna take care of you while you're pregnant?"
She chuckled, a heady little laugh.
"I'm quite capable of taking care of myself. My credentials are all over the walls of this office, in case you haven't noticed." She gestured to the walls behind her.
Nick's Baby Page 2
