Dark color flooded her face. “This is none of your business.” She crumpled the paper in her hand and glanced over her shoulder as though she was afraid someone else might have seen it.
“Someone has to point out the obvious—this is a mistake.”
Alex blinked, her brown eyes wide with shock at his bald pronouncement. “At the risk of repeating myself, this is none of your business,” she said.
Ethan knew she was right. She was a fellow partner, and he was stepping way over the line, but he couldn’t help himself. She deserved a million times better than what she was considering.
“I’m not going to stand by while someone I like and respect makes a mess of her life. Look me in the eye and tell me this is the way you want to have a child.”
She flinched, then her chin came up. “I’m not having this discussion with you, Ethan. Just because I had a moment of weakness while you happened to be around last night doesn’t give you a free pass into my private life.”
“Answer my question.” He took a step closer. “Or are you afraid to?”
He knew that would get her—he might not know what school she went to, but he did know that Alex prided herself on never retreating from a challenge.
She lifted her chin and eyed him angrily. “What do you want me to say, Ethan? You want me to admit that I’m desperate? That this is my last resort? Okay, sure. I am and it is. You want me to tell you that when I was a little girl and I dreamed of having a family of my own, never in a million years did I imagine myself picking his or her father from an online catalog? Absolutely. And if there was any other option on the horizon, there is no way in the world I would consider doing this. But there isn’t, and I refuse to sit on my hands while my last chance to have a family fades away.”
“It’s not fading away. You’re thirty-eight, not forty-eight, and there are hundreds of men who’d break a leg to meet a woman as attractive and together as you.”
She made a rude noise. “You think men are lining up to ask out a busy woman with a mind of her own who probably earns more than they do? Especially when there’s some young blonde thing in her twenties hanging around at the bar who only wants to have a good time?”
“You think all men are a bunch of morons who’d rather go out with a centerfold than a woman with a brain in her head?” he countered.
“You tell me—when was the last time you bypassed the beauty and went for the brain?”
“This isn’t about me. You’re copping out, Alex, and you’re going to regret it.”
“Don’t you dare judge me. You have no idea what it’s like to know that in a few years’ time your own body is going to take away your options. So don’t stand there and lecture me about what I’m worth or what I deserve. Life isn’t about what you deserve—it’s about what you can get and what you can live with. And I will not be able to live with myself if I don’t try to make this happen.”
She turned on her heel and walked into the rain.
“Alex,” he said, darting after her to pull her back beneath the shelter of the awning.
She jerked free of his grasp. “No, Ethan.”
She kept walking, her head down, her shoulders rounded against the force of the rain.
He swore under his breath—but he didn’t go after her. He’d already stepped over the line and he didn’t trust himself not to do it again.
She was making a mistake. But maybe he should have listened to his first instinct and walked away.
Maybe.
ALEX WAS DRIPPING WET when she returned to the office. Fran took one look at her and shot to her feet.
“I’ve got a towel in my gym bag.”
“Thanks.”
Alex had toed off her shoes and was peeling off her wet suit jacket when Fran returned.
“You’re soaked to the skin,” Fran said, sliding a mug of tea onto Alex’s desk and draping a towel around Alex’s shoulders. “I brought you something hot to drink.”
“Thanks. If you wouldn’t mind, there’s some dry cleaning in my car…?” She shivered as a trickle of cold water ran down her spine.
“Give me your keys, I’ll go and grab it for you.”
Alex gave her assistant a grateful smile as she handed over her car keys. “You’re the best, Franny.”
“I know,” the older woman said drily. “Won’t be a tick.”
She pulled the door shut behind her as she exited. Once she was alone, Alex let the smile fall from her face.
She still couldn’t believe that conversation. The things Ethan had said… The fact that he knew…
Her hands were shaking as she tugged her wet shirt from her waistband. She gripped them together, willing the trembling to stop.
He’d shocked her, that was all. She hadn’t planned to tell anyone that she was using a sperm bank, even her friend Helen, who lived in the apartment across the hall, or Samantha, whom she’d studied with. Once she was pregnant, she’d decided to simply claim the father was no longer on the scene. It happened every day, after all. Why not to her?
But now Ethan knew. And he didn’t approve. Which was pretty rich coming from a guy who made George Clooney look like an advertisement for celibacy.
Ethan thought she was selling herself short. Remembering the way he’d said it made her angry all over again. Did he truly think this was her method of choice for having a child? That she hadn’t considered all other options? That she was taking some kind of expedient shortcut to motherhood?
She started working on the buttons on her shirt.
Stupid, but she felt betrayed. She’d always respected him and valued his opinion. He was smart and funny and generous with his time and he never, ever patronized her or treated her as less than an equal the way some of the older partners did. Even on the racquetball court he never gave her quarter. And now—
A knock sounded at the door. “Alex.”
She tensed. She could hear the determined note in Ethan’s voice even through an inch of varnished wood.
“Go away.”
The door swung open and she gave a squawk of outrage, clutching the gaping neckline of her shirt together to keep herself decent.
“Do you mind?”
His suit was dark at the shoulders and trouser cuffs and he dismissed her modesty with an impatient wave of his hand.
“I’m sorry, okay? What I said before…you have every right to be angry with me. I just…I don’t want you to regret this.”
There was so much sincerity and concern in his voice and his deep blue eyes that the angry words in her throat dissolved. She stared at him for a long moment, then turned away to rebutton her damp shirt.
“I want a child,” she said, her voice very low. “Am I supposed to miss out because the music has stopped and all the chairs are full?”
“No.”
She turned to face him again, arms crossed over her chest defensively. “Then you tell me what I’m supposed to do, Ethan. Join a dating site and trawl for a man who’s looking for commitment and not just sex? How long do you think it’s going to take to find one of those? And if I do, when do you suggest I bring up the subject of children with him? First date? Second? Sixteenth? And if he says yes, sure, I’d love kids, how long should we wait before we start trying? A week? A month? A year?” She could hear her voice becoming strident and she made an effort to remain calm. “Do you honestly think that’s any less desperate and compromised than me going to a sperm bank? Really?”
He looked away, then ran a hand over his damp hair. “There’s no easy answer.”
“No, there isn’t.”
A line of water trickled down the side of his face and she passed him the towel. She couldn’t help noticing that he looked as good wet as he did dry. She didn’t need a mirror to tell her she looked like a drowned rat.
“Maybe you can’t understand this because you’re a man, but this is something I’ve wanted since I was a little girl,” she said. “To be a mother. To love unconditionally. To watch a new person find their way in
the world. Not very revolutionary or daring by today’s standards, but it’s what I want. And I think I’d be a decent mother.”
Ethan loosened the knot on his tie and unbuttoned his top shirt button. “I’m not questioning your ability to be a mother, Alex. I think you’d make a great mom. But you spoke to your doctor last night and today I find you printing off information on sperm donors. It’s a pretty big leap, you’ve got to admit.”
“I’m researching, not placing an order.”
“You’re panicking. You ran into your ex and you’re freaking out.”
She seriously considered kicking him in the shin. Wasn’t he listening to her? Hadn’t he heard a thing she’d said?
“I’m facing facts. Time is running out for me. And yes, in a perfect world I would want my child to know his father. But this is what’s on the table and I’m not too proud or precious to take it.”
There was a rap on her office door before it opened and Fran entered.
“I had trouble finding your car. Thank God for these beepy door-open things,” she said.
She stopped in her tracks when she saw Ethan, glancing between the two of them.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You didn’t. Ethan was leaving.” Alex gave him a meaningful look.
“I see you got caught in the rain, as well,” Fran said, running a disapproving eye over Ethan’s wet suit. “Do you want me to try to do something with that jacket?”
“Thanks, but I’m sure it will dry out okay.”
“Well, don’t let us keep you,” Alex said pointedly. “Wouldn’t want you to catch a chill or anything.”
Ethan gave her a dry look. “I’ll see you later, Alex.” He managed to make it sound like both a threat and a promise as he exited.
Fran closed the door after him. “I hope I didn’t walk into the middle of something.”
As fishing expeditions went, it was far from subtle.
“You didn’t. We were discussing something that came up over lunch.”
“I see.”
Alex could see the older woman didn’t believe her. Great. That was all she needed—her assistant thinking there was something going on between her and Ethan, the office sex god. That would get the jungle drums pounding.
“Pity he wouldn’t let me take care of his jacket. I was kind of hoping I could convince him to whip his shirt off in front of us,” Fran said.
Despite everything, Alex laughed. Couldn’t help herself. For a woman in her late fifties, Fran sometimes came out with the most outrageous things. “Careful, Fran, or you’ll be up on a sexual-harassment charge.”
“It would almost be worth it. I bet he’s got an amazing chest. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. And those thighs… What am I saying? You play racquetball with him. You must have seen him in all his glory.”
Fran was looking at her expectantly and Alex concentrated on taking her clean shirt off the hanger.
“I really haven’t noticed, to be honest,” she lied.
“Then you need your head read and your eyes tested. A gorgeous man like him—I tell you, if I was a few years younger, I’d be more than happy for him to park his slippers under my bed.”
“I think he’s pretty busy parking his slippers around town already.”
Fran sighed. “Well, who can blame him? At least he’s spreading the joy.” On that outrageous note she headed for the door. “Next appointment’s in ten,” she called over her shoulder before she disappeared.
“Thanks.”
Alex tucked her shirt in and pulled out her compact to check her hair. She had no idea what to do about the fact that Ethan was privy to her most private plans. It had been bad to lose it in front of him last night, but for him to know her pregnancy plot…
She stilled when she recognized what she saw in her reflection: shame.
There had been many occasions in her life when she’d felt the sting of shame. When one of the kids at her high school had learned about her mother’s brain damage and she’d arrived at school one morning to find everyone whispering and staring at her. When she’d had to wait for hours in the waiting room at social services, feeling the pitying eyes watching her and wondering. When she’d found herself rubbing elbows with some of Melbourne’s most privileged sons and daughters at Melbourne Law School, her well-thumbed secondhand textbooks and thrift-shop clothes marking her as an outsider as obviously as if she’d been carrying a flare.
It was only with the hindsight of age and experience that she’d finally understood that those moments had not been cause for shame. Her mother had suffered a terrible injury, and as a consequence her whole life had changed. They had been poor, and they had struggled. There was no shame in any of those circumstances.
Alex straightened her shoulders. There was no shame in what she was doing now, either. She was single. She wanted a child. She wasn’t breaking any laws or hurting anyone or acting immorally.
She made a promise to herself on the spot: from now on, she wasn’t going to apologize or explain what she wanted to anyone. And she wasn’t going to waste precious energy worrying about what Ethan thought or didn’t think. If he was her friend…well, he would support her. And if he wasn’t then she was well shot of him.
Either way, it wasn’t going to stop her from pursuing her goal.
ETHAN WENT HOME to an empty apartment. No surprises there, that was the way he liked it. He showered and changed into jeans and a sweater, then wandered aimlessly from room to room. He picked up the magazine he’d been reading, then put it down. Flicked on the TV, only to turn it off again.
For the second night in a row, Alex Knight was in his thoughts.
No two ways about it, he’d been an ass today, blundering into her business when he wasn’t welcome. But it wasn’t his own ham-fisted behavior that kept him moving restlessly. What kept rising to the surface of his mind was the memory of the unadulterated, unashamed yearning he’d heard in Alex’s voice when she’d talked about wanting a child.
He understood what it was like to have life pull the rug out from beneath you and lay waste to all the plans you’d made. When he’d married Cassie, he’d had a vision in his head of how their life was going to be: the two of them working hard to complete their respective degrees, the house they would buy, the amount of time they’d wait to get their careers established before starting a family, the partnership he’d earn, the schools the kids would go to…
He’d been so certain about all of it, so confident it was his for the taking.
He crossed to the window and stared down at the cars moving along St. Kilda Road.
It had been five years since his divorce, five years since he’d understood that his plans for his life differed wildly from reality. He’d long since resigned himself to the fact that certain things were never going to happen for him.
Alex, however, wasn’t even close to being content with the hand she’d been dealt and a part of him admired her for her refusal to simply accept that she’d missed out. He might not think her solution was the greatest, but she wasn’t prepared to give up on her dream, and she was going to go to the mat fighting for it.
Hard not to be impressed by that kind of determination. But he’d always found her impressive, hadn’t he? From his first days with the firm he’d noticed her—those direct, clear brown eyes, that mobile mouth, all that attitude and energy.
Heartily sick of his own circling thoughts, Ethan went into the kitchen and concentrated on dinner. Half an hour later he had the tagine steaming on the stove and the smell of Moroccan spices filled the room.
He opened a bottle of wine, steamed some couscous and sat down to chicken with green olives and almonds for one. Then he found a good documentary and poured himself another glass of wine. By eleven he was over TV and over himself and he went to bed.
He woke with a start several hours later, his heart racing, his body clammy with sweat. It took him a moment to orient himself to his bedroom, to understand why Cassie was
n’t in the bed beside him and why he could hear the faint sound of traffic passing by outside instead of the hushed quiet of a suburban street.
He glanced at the alarm clock. Three in the morning. Great.
He rolled out of bed and walked naked to the bathroom. He sluiced water onto his face, then glanced at his shadowy reflection in the bathroom mirror. In the dim light, all he could see was the outline of his features and the glint of his eyes. He grabbed his robe and shrugged it on before making his way to the kitchen.
He couldn’t recall what he’d been dreaming about before he woke. All he could conjure were vague shadows and a pervading sense of loss. Better than a teeth-falling-out or going-to-work-naked dream, but not by much.
He poured himself a couple of inches of cognac then took his drink to the living room. One of the advantages of living so close to the city was that there was always a sense of activity—life—happening nearby, no matter the time, day or night.
He drew up a chair near the window. If it was summer, he’d go out on the balcony, but it would be bitterly cold tonight so he settled for resting his forehead against the cool glass and watching the bright lights of the city.
He thought about the night Tim was born, how he’d felt when his brother had passed his brand-new son into Ethan’s arms. Ethan had been moved at Jamie’s birth, had even felt a little ambushed by the tug of connection and protection he’d felt toward his brother’s child. But with Tim, it had been different. Cassie had walked out on him by then, and he’d looked into Tim’s unblinking, bewildered, unfocused blue eyes and understood absolutely that this would be as close as he’d ever come to being a parent. It had been a watershed moment. A moment of resignation and acceptance and grief.
But maybe he wasn’t as resigned as he’d thought he was. Maybe he wasn’t quite ready to abandon the dream of being a father. Maybe, like Alex, he wasn’t prepared to walk away without a fight.
He felt as though he was standing on the edge of a precipice, teetering on the brink of…something. A mistake? An opportunity? A second chance?
He lost track of how much time had passed. Slowly the sky lightened and brightened. Birds started to appear, swooping in and out of the treetops in the Alexandra Gardens opposite his apartment. He stood and stretched out his tight shoulders and back. Then he went into the bedroom and dressed.
The Best Laid Plans Page 5
