Baby Be Mine (Spinsters & Casanovas Series Book One)

by Wanitta Praks

  Come on, give me a good comeback, he challenged.

  “Arrrgh, you Casanova. I hope you marry a woman who holds an iron rod in her hand. Then she’ll beat you into shape.” Clarice growled, then stormed off, leaving Hunter to laugh in her wake.

  CHAPTER 8

  Clarice was still fuming and a little rattled when she approached the man holding the pink rose. As if sensing she was approaching, he stood and tugged his shirtsleeves into place, then glanced at her and smiled. It looked like she wasn’t the only one who was nervous after all.

  “Clarice?” he asked, unsure whether she was the same as his match on the dating site.

  “Yes.” She tried mustering up a smile, but her emotions were still boiling from her encounter with that Casanova near the restroom, and all she could achieve was a slight slant of her lips. And speaking of Casanova, she spotted him right near their table, his eyes following her closely.

  Blast! She should’ve known he would be dining here too. Feeling his eyes boring straight at her, she reverted hers to the man sitting before her.

  But how did he get to his seat so quickly? Clarice’s thoughts drifted back to Hunter again. Clarice, shut up and look at the man in front of you now!

  Hunter, on the other hand, couldn’t believe the woman he named Avocado was actually the young man’s date. This wasn’t good at all. Somehow he felt a little irritated.

  Clarice was busy eyeing the young man in front of her, still holding the pink rose, unsure of what to do.

  Up close, the man was pleasantly handsome, but nothing that made her heart jump like that Casanova over there.

  Stop it, Clarice. Stop thinking like this at once. You are here to see this nice man. Talk to him. Now!

  “Sorry for the wait. I got waylaid coming here,” she said, hoping her heart would calm down a bit.

  “Oh, it’s all right. I was just enjoying the view outside.” He smiled at her. “Oh, here, your rose,” the man said, handing the bloom to her.

  “Thank you.” She smiled. He seemed nice.

  “Here, have a seat.” The man moved to her side and pulled out the chair for her. Oh, how sweet, she thought. Such a gentleman. One brownie point for my date.

  “The view is very beautiful at this time of evening, don’t you think?” he asked, flashing his pearly white teeth at her.

  She mentally increased his score. A man that showed emotion definitely deserved another point. Plus, those clean white teeth warranted extra credit. She couldn’t imagine dating a man with bad oral hygiene, let alone asking for his sperm.

  She was quite pleased with the turn of events, actually. The man was almost halfway there already. Just three more points to go to fit her criteria, and then she’d ask him for his sperm. Just perfect.

  “Hello. Welcome. Have you decided on what you would like to order yet?”

  Clarice looked up to see the waitress holding a pad of paper and pen in her hand. She smiled at her, then turned to look at the young man—

  Chocolate chippy, she forgot his name. It was in the profile on her laptop. Why couldn’t she remember? What was it? Hunter, was it Hunter? Wait, that was that Casanova’s name.

  Why did she remember Hunter’s name and not this handsome man’s? Useless, Clarice, useless. How are you going to find the perfect genes for your baby if you can’t even remember the guy’s name? And here you have the gift of memory, recalling all your patients’ names even when they’ve told you only once. How disgraceful, she yelled at herself.

  Oh, just shut up. She told herself off. You’re driving me crazy.

  “It’s Darcy,” the man said when he saw her expression that literally translated to, What was your name again? Because I forgot it already, even when I had just read your profile last night. “My name is Darcy.”

  Oh, how polite. How adorable. Four points now. Maybe she could have a future with him after all.

  They talked about this and that. He was twenty-three. A seven-year difference, but they say love holds no barrier. Plus, Casanova did say she looked nothing over twenty. At least until she proved her true age. She hoped this wouldn’t be the case for this lovely young man here.

  They also talked about his hobbies. Apparently, he was just freshly out of university, gaining a bachelor’s degree in journalism at Massey University in Wellington. He was currently looking for a job, but hadn’t found the right one yet. So at present, he was working as a librarian, since he loved books so much, just like her. Ding! Ding! Ding! Another big thing in common. She could brag all day about Agatha Christie, her favourite mystery author, or Alexia Praks, her favourite romance author. She could see they could get along quite well together in the future.

  Clarice was having so much fun dining with Darcy that she almost didn’t hear the sudden screeching of a chair being pushed back from across the dining room. When she turned to look at the sudden commotion, she saw that Casanova had deserted the woman across the table from him and was now stalking towards her, his face a brewing storm about to erupt.

  Clarice felt sorry for the girl, getting ditched like that. She must be so sad and embarrassed by that Casanova’s actions. Her eyes were fully concentrated on examining the tablecloth, as if she were looking for staining. But then again, she felt a little relief because at least the girl didn’t fall prey to Casanova’s charm, unlike most women.

  Clarice was about to breathe a sigh of relief when Hunter stopped right at their table. Her body went rigid and she became aware of every single particle in her form. She felt him leaning in close to her, and not a breadth of hair was separating them when he spoke.

  “Have fun, Avocado,” he whispered huskily into her ear, making the hair at the back of her neck stand up and the nerves along her spine tingle. Then he strode past her, leaving her mouth gaping open, while Darcy just looked confused at the whole scene played in front of him.

  “Avocado?” Darcy asked. “Do you know him?”

  That beast of a Casanova, Clarice thought. How dare he embarrass her in front of her future partner? If she saw him again, he was going to get a taste of her medicine. Give him a shot of the strong local anesthetic to make sure he wouldn’t be able to talk. That would serve him right for being a smart mouth.

  “Ahh, no, not at all. I don’t know him at all.” Clarice tried to deny the truth.

  Well, it was the truth. She really didn’t know him. They’d only just met, even though it was three times in the span of a few weeks. But that still made them strangers. She didn’t know anything else about him apart from his name and that he was a playboy.

  “Oh, I thought he was a boyfriend or something, the way he was whispering in your ear and all that,” Darcy remarked leisurely, then returned to his plate of Cambodian pancakes.

  Clarice almost choked on her rice rolls. How could Darcy think he was her boyfriend? She would rather have all her teeth extracted without anesthetic than be called that Casanova’s girlfriend. Yes, she did admit he had attracted her in the beginning with the whole towel thing, but when she heard the first word that came out of his mouth, she had sworn him off. She and Hunter did not belong in the same sentence.

  “He must have saw us enjoying ourselves, whereas his date didn’t go so well,” she stated firmly.

  “I guess so,” Darcy said, then went back to his meal.

  Thank the Lord, because after this event, everything went back to normal again. Darcy questioned her about her occupation. She told him she was a periodontist. Darcy didn’t know what kind of profession that was, so she had to explain to him. Then he said he hadn’t had a professional cleaning since he arrived here in Auckland. They even had a bit of a laugh about flossing and interdental cleaning.

  Everything was great, Clarice thought as she dug into her char noodles, savoring the flavor as she bit into them. Darcy was nice; the restaurant was nice; everything was nice. She couldn’t ask for a more perfect date. Just then, her phone rang. Must be Max trying to keep a tab on me.

  Clarice dug into her bag, trying to ret
rieve her phone hidden among the other junk. Her hand landed on her driver’s license. Meaning to put it in her wallet again, she placed it out on the table and continued to search through her bag, when an outcry from her date startled her, making her head jerk up to look at him.

  Darcy jerked up off his chair like a fire had been lit up his butt. He started pulling on his jacket, then slammed a fifty-dollar note on the table.

  “Do you need to be somewhere else? You look like you’re in a hurry,” Clarice asked, quite concerned when Darcy started acting so strange. It didn’t make sense. They got along just fine a few minutes ago. What changed?

  “Sorry, I have this rule. I don’t date any woman older than me.” Darcy said while placing his wallet back in his pocket.

  “What?” Clarice burst out, jumping from her chair, shocked that he would say something like that.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done this. I should have ticked the age range group in the survey. I wasn’t aware the system would pair me up with you. Look, I’m sorry. But I can’t date you. I have to go now,” Darcy said, and then he left, just like that.

  One minute he was here and the next gone.

  Poor Clarice sat back down in the chair while everyone eyed her. And here she had felt sorry for that girl that Casanova had left behind not half an hour ago, when she herself was now in the same boat.

  Argh, all men are the same. Clarice wanted to scream. First that Hunter guy and now Darcy. Jerks and Casanovas. I wish I would never see them again.

  And then she saw her driver’s license. So that was the cause of all the commotion. Her driver’s license again. Oh, how pathetic can life get? Clarice finished her meal, gloomily staring at her ID.

  Thirty, still single, and she’d just gotten ditched on her first date.

  CHAPTER 9

  Clarice woke one week later with an ultimatum for herself. She was going to have a baby. Forget about love. She had all the love she needed right here. What she wanted was a family, and what better way than to have a baby?

  Being a single mother was perfect. She could give all her love to the baby. She had enough to spare and enough laughter to share around the world. She didn’t need a man. What with every single man around her acting like jerks and Casanovas, she hadn’t time for the emotional rollercoaster of love and heartbreak. And thank the Lord, because when that glasses guy Darcy, or Rarcy, or whatever ditched her, there was no heartache. Yes, it was better to have no feelings involved at all, just a clean and sterile transaction, like her dental instruments.

  But where to find this sperm that wouldn’t involve relationships and heartache? Then the proverbial light bulb flashed above her head, and she scrambled off her bed in her pink pajamas and went straight towards the phone.

  A few minutes later, Clarice had an appointment for a consultation at the fertility clinic.

  “Yes, thank you. I’ll pop in at lunchtime. Thanks,” she said before placing the receiver down.

  At last, her first goal had been decided. By the end of this year, she was going to get herself pregnant by way of artificial insemination.

  * * *

  Fluffy blue coats or fluffy pink coats? Blue socks or pink socks? To scan or not to scan? Which room should she put the cot in? How long should she breastfeed? What color should the blanket be? What name should she give her baby? Dorian? No, too Casanova-like, like that Dorian Grey from that movie. Dori? No, too much like Nemo. Sally? No, too simple. Cassandra? Hmmm, sounds nice.

  “Clarice?” A voice poked through her thoughts.

  “Yes.” Clarice jerked up her head, realizing she had just walked into the dental surgery.

  “Clarice,” Gracey said, shaking her head at her little boss who was once again daydreaming about who knows what. “Wake up from your daydreaming, dear. We have a new representative from the Silverton Hotel asking to speak with you about the upcoming hygiene conference being held in Queenstown this year.”

  “Conference? Queenstown?” Clarice asked, not registering what Gracey had said.

  “Clarice, my dear, are you getting any sleep at all? Where are you today? Off to La-la Land again?” Gracey asked.

  This was the usual case for Clarice. If she had a certain thought in her mind, it showed right on her face. She had never been good at hiding emotions.

  “Sorry, I was thinking about some things.”

  “Mind telling me? I’m all ears.” Gracey loved hearing gossip from her colleague, but Clarice wasn’t ready to spill the news yet. Well, not to Gracey anyway. No matter how good the woman was, she was like a wildfire. Give her one small piece of bacon, and she’d turn it into a full-on roast pork.

  “Ah, not at the moment. Still sorting stuff out. When I’m ready, I’ll let you know,” she said.

  “Great, darling. I’ll be waiting, then. Now for this…” Gracey turned her attention back to the information at hand, which was the Dental Hygiene Conference being held in Queenstown, and all the representatives. “The representative of the Silverton Hotel wants a word with you about the conference.”

  “Why would the representative of the Silverton Hotel want to talk to me? I’m only one of their guest speakers,” Clarice asked.

  “Because you’re the all-time important guest speaker, that’s why. He said he needed to go over some stuff with you about the layout and things.”

  “But the event is being held in Queenstown. Why am I going to the Silverton Hotel in Auckland, then?’

  “Because they also own the Silverton Hotel in Queenstown and it’s exactly the same layout. Plus, it’s just to meet the representative.”

  “Right, fine then. Where do I meet him?”

  “At the Silverton Hotel,” Gracey told her again. “Dear, where has your head gone? It feels like we’re talking around the table here. Get back to Earth, dear.”

  “Yes, Gracey. I’m sorry for being away with the fairies.”

  “Well, I blocked you out for the afternoon so you could suss out all the details involving the conference. Happy?”

  “Yes, happy, Gracey. Thank you,” she said, then walked into her surgery room with the patient’s files in her hand while her head was once again swimming with her baby thoughts.

  The afternoon rolled around faster than Clarice could say cheese, and by one p.m. straight on the dot, she was at the entrance to the fertility clinic.

  Nervous and palms sweating, she held on to the doorknob and drew forward. No backing down now, Clarice, she told herself. You are ready to become a mother. You are ready for this.

  “What?” That was her first reaction when the consultant came back to her. “You mean to say I can’t even see the man that donates the sperm?” she asked when the consultant outlined their guidelines.

  “Yes.”

  “Why not? How do I know he looks nice if I can’t see his face?”

  “I’m sorry. It’s part of our policy here. We value our donors’ privacy, so to show their pictures to potential clients would pose a risk to their lives.”

  “I don’t understand how seeing the man would make me go out and kill him.”

  “Well, let’s just say if you don’t like the look of your baby, you might feel differently.”

  “I wouldn’t do that. Isn’t that why I asked to see his face first? If he’s handsome, then surely my child would be handsome too.”

  “That’s not generally the case with babies.”

  “Ah, this is so frustrating. This is so not happening.” Clarice wanted to scream. Here she was thinking that everything was going the way she had planned, but now this. Was God trying to stop her from having a family? She tried reasoning with the consultant one more time. “If I can’t even see his picture, how am I supposed to decide whether he would be the right one for me? After all, I am bearing his child. What if you lie to me that he’s intelligent, gentle, and sensible, then I ended up getting the wrong sperm from someone else? How do I make sure that doesn’t happen?”

  “We always make sure it does not happen again.”


  “Again? Are you saying it happened once?”

  “Yes, just once.”

  “This is crazy. I’m going crazy.” Clarice felt like tearing her hair out of her head.

  “Miss, please calm down. Why are you so flustered?”

  “Why am I not out of my chair, screaming right now would be a better question. Have you any idea how old I am? Thirty. I’ve never had a baby before, and I am scared if I wait any longer, I won’t be able to conceive at all. And right now I want a baby. One good, healthy, and beautiful baby that has all the traits I’ve listed on that piece of paper there. Smart, intelligent, kind, etc. And now you tell me I can’t even see the person who will donate the sperm. I want a baby. I want a family. I want a companion when I grow old.” There, she lashed out everything that was bearing on her chest.

  “You could always get a dog,” the consultant suggested nervously.

  “I don’t want a dog. I’m scared of dogs.”

  “How about a cat?”

  “I’m allergic.”

  “A goldfish, then. They live in the water, have no fur, and aren’t as scary as a dog.”

  “No, no goldfish, no cats, and no dogs. I want a baby.”

  “Perhaps you need a sedative to help you relax?”

  “I am not mad and screaming at the top of my lungs!” Clarice went mad and screamed at the top of her lungs. “I am merely frustrated with my life right now. So you don’t need to give me any sedatives. I’m leaving.”

  After a good long, aimless walk around the area, munching on chocolate chips, Clarice calmed down a bit. Her mind was still bogged deep in thought when she heard the blast of a horn jolting her awake.

  * * *

  “Why you no-good bastard of a son. You’re making me crazy,” Clinton shouted, newspaper in hand, running around after Hunter like they were playing chase.