Miracle for the Neurosurgeon

by Lynne Marshall

  Mary swallowed quietly, turned on, her mouth having grown dry reading the exquisitely intimate and thorough descriptions.

  She’d call the writing erotic since reading the blog had aroused her, and she assumed it had done the same for Wes.

  “I told you,” she said, finding it difficult to meet his eyes, and immediately flitting away when she did. Only then did she realize her nipples had hardened and he’d noticed through the thin fabric of her bra and white top.

  He took his time lifting his gaze from her chest to meet her eyes. “You did. But I found this. And more.”

  “You’ve definitely got my attention.” Suddenly feeling winded, she inhaled.

  “Good,” he said, latching on to her stare, which arced between them and with it traveled sexy vibrations that dove and zinged throughout her upper body.

  He subtly lifted his brows and toggled to another website. “This one is less erotic but very practical.”

  She clicked on what looked like a small canvas cot divided into two parts—an open-sided, low sitting chair, which glided, and a cot which was far less cumbersome than a bed, and allowed a paraplegic’s partner easier maneuverability and access, with built-in natural bounce.

  “It’s called the glide rider with extra bounce,” he said, serious as hell.

  Mary pulled in her chin, needing to take another deep breath while he explained how the contraption might work and the number of positions it could allow.

  Her face went hot. She was definitely turned on, but for the sake of science she went along with him as he explained step by step the sexual process using the gliding chair. Their heads were nearly touching as they both studied the computer screen, Wes using the mouse cursor like a laser light on the various parts of the contraptions. His lime and spice aftershave invaded her nose, and she hoped her tropical garden shampoo excited him half as much as she tried to concentrate on the website.

  He’d certainly been doing his research.

  He lifted her hair and kissed her neck, surprising her. She sat straighter, acutely aware of his lips tripping down her neck, igniting the length of her spine. She inhaled then held her breath to fight off a flood of shivers. Unsuccessfully.

  “This is turning me on, you know that, right?” he said in a low husky voice.

  His whiskey-tinged voice was turning her on, too, not to mention those feathery kisses on her neck. “I thought it was the other way around,” she said, trying not to sound breathy.

  “Something’s obviously working.” He glanced at his lap, where his arousal was in full form beneath his jeans.

  Surprised and happy, she smiled softly at him. “I told you.”

  He continued playing with her hair. “Normally I hate it when you say that, but I’ll forgive you this time.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  He nuzzled her neck, sending more tingles across her skin, and she involuntarily clenched her inner thigh muscles.

  “So how do we order it?”

  “I already have.” The man was definitely taking the lead on a new version of his sex life.

  She let her grin stretch from one side of her face to the other, like a kid unable to keep a secret. “A two-day delivery?”

  “Sorry we have to wait that long, but yes.”

  We? Seeing the hunger in his eyes, feeling it herself, knowing his need to prove he was still a complete man, she quickly sorted through their situation. She was his friend, but they’d moved way beyond that now. In his own way, he’d been courting her, and he definitely wanted her. If she was honest, she’d admit how much she wanted him, too.

  How would they make things work? She traveled. Would leave in a few weeks for another state to be determined. He planned to stay put. To resume his medical career. But this one thing, this pure desire arcing between them right now, was the one exact thing—if it worked out the way she hoped—that could unite them for life. Even if they never saw each other again.

  He needed her to help him prove he was still a man.

  And she needed him for an equally touchy task.

  A baby.

  Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Why not go for it?

  She swallowed away the dryness in her throat in order to speak. “You’re the smartest and best-looking man I’ve ever known. You want to have sex.” Her voice started to tremble. “And I want a baby.”

  From his wide open stare, just short of going slack-jawed, she knew she had his attention so she plunged ahead.

  “Will you consider making a bargain with me?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  MARY’S OFFER OF striking a bargain sent all the sexy feelings flying. His need to hold her in his arms? Gone. His erection? Also gone. He’d never given a thought to becoming a father. Not without a wife, and with two unsuccessful engagements he’d yet to find the right woman. Once he’d become a paraplegic, to be honest, he’d never given parenting another thought.

  A business deal. Was that what she’d just suggested?

  Wes sat staring at Mary, considering how far they’d come and how so suddenly off track they’d gotten. He needed to clarify. “A bargain as in signing a contract? ‘Must have X number of sexual encounters and produce one offspring. Or all prior encounters will be null and void’?”

  With an earnest expression, taking his hands into hers, she said, “You know that’s not what I’m talking about. There could never be anything so cold and hard between us.” She glanced at his lap, where he hadn’t disappeared nearly as much as he’d thought. “Well, cold anyway. Wes, come on, we have an opportunity to each provide something life-changing for the other. It’s a proposition only people who trust each other can make, and I trust you. Will you think about it?”

  The tips of her ears had gone red and he understood how difficult this must be for her to bring up. As tough, if not more, than it had been for him when he’d asked her to have sex with him—just so he could prove he could. Why hadn’t he thought about the procreation part? She’d been straightforward about wanting a child before since she’d hit some magical age, and he’d understood how she might want that, but right here and now? With him doing the honors? She asked far too much. He couldn’t just impregnate and go. If he had a kid he’d want to be a part of their life.

  “I’ve definitely got to think this through.” He sent her a warning glance for changing the serious topic of having sex into an even more serious subject of making a baby.

  “I understand, but if you agree, please know I’d never hold you accountable for my child.”

  “What kind of man do you think I am? Of course I’d want to be involved.” He scrubbed his face in frustration. “Look, we’re not even sure this pregnancy can be produced, but you know as well as I do how surprises pop into life all the time. Like me having an accident. Something could happen to you. I wouldn’t want a kid staring me in the eyes, asking why he or she never knew I was their dad.”

  “I know I’ve taken you by surprise.”

  “Far beyond that, Harris. Bargaining for a baby?” Though initially appalled by her request, Wesley couldn’t hide the part of him that found the deal sexy as hell. It must have shown in his eyes because she gave a demure smile—one that attempted to hide the obvious adult-woman-bargaining-sex-for-personal-reward-who-has-just-blown-potential-partner’s-mind. The sweet expression didn’t come close to covering the truth—she’d sleep with him—and damn if he didn’t find that sexy. As hell.

  “I’m not trying to trap you into anything, Wes, and I’ll sign any document you want to prove it.”

  Was he ready or willing for the rest of her bargain? He needed to give becoming a father at this stage in his life some serious consideration.

  Playing the “cool” card, he rolled his chair backward. Yeah, he did stuff like this all the time, bargained for sex. Further proof how worldly he used to be. Not!

  “I’m going to think about this today, and I’ll be in touch.” Off he went to his office in hopes of wrapping his mind around what she’d just suggested, an
d trying really hard to keep his mind from imagining the possibilities. In front of her, anyway.

  Having sex again would be great, but the thing that struck him the hardest was the possibility of becoming a dad. A crazy sense of hope frightened him. He’d let go of so many dreams after his accident, but here was Mary pushing her way back into his life, forcing him to feel alive again, filled with desire, and now daring him to consider making a baby. Was he ready for that?

  After thirty-seven years, one thing he knew about himself—once he put his mind to something, nothing could stop him.

  *

  Mary’s cellphone rang around two in the afternoon while she sunbathed on the beach. It was Wes. Immediately her pulse tripled. “Hi. Worked things out yet?”

  She held her breath in anticipation of his answer, praying he wouldn’t say no. But also scared to death he’d say yes, because it would change everything between them, and she’d really gotten to like being Wes Van Allen’s friend.

  “Have dinner with me tonight.” It wasn’t a question but a statement, and suddenly she could breathe again. “We’ll go to Geoffrey’s. I’ll pick you up at seven.” After a pause when she expected him to hang up, because a guy in control of her future didn’t need an answer knowing how much this meant to her, he said, “Oh, and wear something sexy.”

  She couldn’t be sure what he’d decided about her proposition, but with that request her heart thumped in her chest, and something both frightening and hopeful thrummed throughout her body. She wanted to help him feel whole again, though knowing that once she left what they’d intimately shared, he’d be free to do that with other women. Jealousy cramped her stomach. But she’d known from the instant she’d held newborn Rose that she was meant to be a mother. She wanted that with all of her might. She also knew everything in her life came with a cost.

  “Okay,” was all she managed to get out before he disconnected the call.

  She lay back on her beach towel, her face under the umbrella. A whirlwind of hope and desire made it impossible to relax. Anticipation of what might or might not play out later kept her on edge. Knowing from Alexandra the kind of women Wes was used to keeping company with, her one LBD would fall far short of the mark. At least she’d had more time to tan her legs so she wouldn’t have to wear stockings to dinner. Hopefully he’d find that sexy enough.

  At seven, Mary heard something hit her front door window, like maybe a small bird had flown into it. Since it was more of a thump than a knock, she ignored it and put the finishing touches on her hair and lipstick. She’d worn the one and only little black dress she owned and strappy sandals with lots of fake bling on the straps.

  “Harris!”

  Why was he yelling for her instead of knocking? She rushed to the door and when she opened it there he was in his huge electric wheelchair on the small plot of grass near where she’d parked her mini house. Several small rocks were on his lap. “Why are you yelling?”

  “I tried the old pebbles-on-the-window trick but it didn’t work. I didn’t want to break your window.”

  She gave a confused stare.

  “Too big for the ramp and it won’t fit on your porch. I can’t get there to knock.” He made a bowing gesture, using only his hands to indicate his wheels. “You look great, by the way.”

  “Thanks. You’re looking pretty good yourself.” She opted to play down the fact he looked dashing and scary as hell. Then gave an approving nod after checking out his stylish peach and sage plaid shirt—it complemented his dark eyes—and slim-cut navy blue chinos. Had he been shopping online? “Let me get my purse.”

  Once she met him on the grass, without another word, he put the electric wheelchair in motion and took off. “Come on, I’m driving.”

  She had to jog to keep up.

  He’d never given her any indication that he was independent enough to drive, yet here he was looking like a guy who did it all the time. What else had he been holding out on her?

  They arrived at the three-car garage where someone had already backed out a custom-made candy apple red van. Wes directed Mary to the passenger side and opened the door for her to get in. He steered himself toward the rear hinged doors where he mounted a hydraulic lift, then rolled into place on the driver’s side.

  “And here I thought you weren’t able to get around,” she said as he locked himself in. “Turns out you’ve just been antisocial.”

  “My prerogative.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’ve made the exception for me.”

  “Don’t let it go to your head, Harris. I go to Geoffrey’s all the time.”

  “Since when?”

  He acted nonchalant, like they went out to dinner all the time together, definitely making it hard for her to figure out what he’d decided about her offer. Was it too soon to ask?

  “Maybe not recently, but I used to be a regular.”

  Using hand controls and steering knobs, he drove with confidence, even cussed a couple of times when someone cut him off. Within ten minutes they’d arrived at the restaurant, and again she was surprised by the fact the parking attendant seemed to know him. So he had been a regular there BP.

  He waited on her side for her to get out of the van and made no effort to hide how he watched her bare legs in the short dress. She was glad she’d painted her toenails bright pink. Was that sexy enough for him?

  “Dr. Van Allen, wonderful to see you again,” the maître d’ said, as though nothing monumental had changed about him at all.

  The restaurant was able to accommodate his request for a table on the main floor balcony with and a gorgeous view of the ocean. As she relaxed and took everything in, a steward brought wine for Wes to approve—again giving her the impression it was the same wine he always ordered—and Wes ordered an appetizer to share. Like always?

  Insecurity put her in competition with any woman he’d ever brought there, and she was suddenly more than a little envious of his prior dates. The thoughts she’d admitted earlier about leaving him, knowing he’d find someone else to fill her place, only ratcheted up the jealous feelings.

  “Prawn and scallop ceviche all right with you?”

  Snapped out of her thoughts by food, she smiled, hoping she looked more confident than she felt. “Sounds great.” She sipped the freshly poured, cool and crisp Sauvignon Blanc. “Wow, this is good.”

  “It’s my personal request whenever I come here.”

  She’d been right! “So you actually do come here a lot?”

  “Not in a while. I brought my parents here after I got the van, but they made such a big deal out of everything I haven’t been back since.”

  “Your parents or the restaurant?”

  “Both. I think they got the point when I left abruptly. I called and warned them I was coming and they’re doing much better this time. Before the accident, I was a regular on Saturday nights.”

  She made a note not to make a big deal out of anything, which she’d just been about to do over the full ocean view. Play it cool. Don’t blow it. He may look cool as a cucumber, but he’s feeling insecure, too. And my future could be on the line.

  She’d been right. He’d probably been here with loads of women, a new one every week, before the accident. And after she left, the same routine would probably start back up. He’d be working, meeting new people, living a full life. Though that made the green demon rear its ugly head again, in a crazy way it also gave her hope that he’d think nothing of granting her desire to become a mom. With the way things had always been in her life, she couldn’t get her hopes up he’d agree to her terms.

  “I don’t mean to seem eager, but have you made up your mind about what we talked about earlier?” So much for playing it cool. She couldn’t help herself.

  “Not here, Harris. Let’s just have a nice dinner out.”

  She took his cue and toned it way back. All her hopes and dreams were put on hold while she quaffed light, fruity white wine and enjoyed a chicken roulade she simply couldn’t pass up because the
spinach bread pudding seemed too interesting to miss. It didn’t disappoint.

  From time to time, Wes met her gaze, seeming to notice little details about her hair and earrings with his comments. “Between the ocean and those aquamarine earrings, your eyes almost look blue tonight.” And another time, “I like how you’ve done your hair.”

  Hell, all she’d done was twist it and pile the ends on the top of her head. No biggie. But if he liked it, she was glad she’d gone for something different.

  Under any other circumstances—no bartering for sexual favors and pregnancies—she’d have considered tonight a wonderful date with a handsome and bright guy, one she’d hope to go out with again. In or out of a wheelchair.

  But this was Wes, the man who needed to prove he was still a man, and she was a soon-to-be thirty-four-year-old who wanted to be a mom with all of her heart—to know how it felt to grow new life inside her body. To give birth to a baby with half of her DNA. But no pressure. She fought the urge to blow her wispy bangs off her forehead.

  She opted to skip dessert, instead having another glass of wine. Yes, she’d had more than she usually allowed herself, but she wasn’t driving and if things went in her favor tonight, she’d be expected to make good on her bargain. Yikes! A little liquid confidence was definitely in order. She took another sip and pretended to watch the sea, knowing Wes was studying her. She chanced a glance his way and found admiring eyes, and a mischievous smile she recalled from his sister’s wedding. The night they’d made out like teenagers in the back of the “just married” limousine under the guise of decorating it for the newlyweds. Her face went hot. Dark and sexy thoughts invaded her mind, and feelings like she’d felt when she’d straddled him the other day. So she drank more wine.

  “Are you ready to go?”

  Maybe once they got home he’d tell her his decision. “Yes,” she said, sounding far too eager.