by E. E. Burke
“I didn’t mislead you about this arrangement,” she reminded him.
“Waiving my rights doesn’t mean walking away without a thought. I won’t sleep well at night if I don’t feel comfortable with whoever’s raising a child I helped make.”
“This isn’t a child you’re giving up for adoption. It’s spermatozoa—” Jen sealed her lips. Too late, the crude remark had escaped. She knew she was being unfair. Blame it on fear.
Still planted directly in front of her, Logan took a leisurely sip of his coffee. “You’ve got your conditions. I’ve got mine.”
Conditions? What more did he want from her? Based on the hard set of his jaw, if she didn’t give a little, she would lose him—as a donor. That’s all she needed from him. Nothing more. He was making this more difficult than it needed to be.
She practiced deep breathing. Anxiety would spiral into panic if she didn’t get it under control. Freaking out was the last thing she needed right now.
Logan took a step back, as if sensing her need for more space.
Jen circled behind the breakfast bar. Putting a slab of granite between them should help her think more clearly. “How long is this list of conditions?”
“It’s a short one. First, go out on a date with me this coming weekend. Second...we make a baby the old-fashioned way.”
Chapter 5
Logan hummed “Country Girl, Shake it For Me” while he waited for Jen to buckle her seat belt. Even the rain couldn’t dampen his good mood. Damn, she looked good in that dress. The soft material hugged her curves from the waist up and fell loosely around her hips to just above the knee. Nothing covered her tanned legs except a pair of ankle-high boots.
After his blood tests had come back normal—in a blazing two days, thanks to Jen’s lab contacts—she’d agreed to go out with him and to give some thought to his second request. Which meant he had a chance to convince her to sleep with him. He tried not to think too much about being paid afterwards, and then leaving. Those were bridges better crossed once he came to them.
She frowned at a steady rain through the windshield he’d cleaned this morning. The wipers thwacked, flinging water. Pulling down the visor, she grimaced at the mirror. “Just look at my hair.”
He did as she asked. Rich brown hair hung straight down to just above her shoulders in a simple but elegant style that suited her. “Looks fine to me.”
She tucked her hair behind one ear, revealing a gleaming silver disc in a small lobe he had a burning desire to nibble. “It would have to rain.”
“Pretty much guaranteed. I washed the truck.” He pulled the F150 to the end of her driveway. Not sure where to go, he shifted into park. The truck’s engine dropped to a low grumble.
Four years ago, he’d bought the broken-down vehicle for next to nothing, and his brother Ross had helped him get it running again. On their first date, he’d ridden in the shiny Mercedes Benz that was parked in Jen’s garage. The silver and turquoise pendant hanging around her neck looked like it was worth more than his truck. The differences between them couldn’t be more glaring. That might be why she was pouting. She didn’t want to be seen riding around ritzy Druid Hills in a run-down pickup truck.
“Where to?”
“Wherever you’d like.”
Definitely pouting. She didn’t push out her lower lip and cross her arms over her chest like his five-year-old niece, but her chilly politeness lowered the temperature in the cab.
Logan refused to be discouraged. He wasn’t sure what had spurred him to ask for more time with her. Getting her into bed had been his only goal when he’d headed over to her house. He came up with the additional prerequisite after she’d greeted him at the back door, looking adorable in an oversized sweatshirt with bed-head.
Maybe the smell of coffee, which he associated with homey images, had triggered the crazy daydream. Waking up next to her, the dog curled up at end of the bed. Sharing coffee on a cool morning. Bantering with someone who got his sarcastic sense of humor, and even better, dished out her own brand.
The physical part was easy to understand. Attraction pulled at both of them. He’d seen it in her eyes when he’d brushed up against her, and again when he’d cupped her hands with his. As for domestic thoughts, she hadn’t given him any signs she entertained any—just the opposite, in fact, as she kept referring to him as the donor.
He knew why she did it, to hold him at arm’s length. He didn’t like the distance. In fact, he disliked her insistence on making this exchange impersonal. Something in him—a bone-deep stubborn streak that infected the men in his family—had reared up. He would drag Jen out of her comfort zone and force her to acknowledge him as a man. By the time he got her into bed, she’d want to be there as much as he did.
“Let’s go dancing.”
“Dancing?” Her tone sounded as if he’d suggested they deliver a calf in the fields.
“Moving your feet to music?”
She gave a fluttering eye roll he found charming. “I know what dancing is.”
“Do you know how to line dance?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I’ll take that as a no. I could teach you. It’s easy.”
Her expression turned incredulous. “You want to go to a country and western bar?”
“Sure. Do you know of one?”
When she didn’t answer right off, he wondered if he ought to suggest drinks and dinner and be done with it.
No, he wanted her to learn how to have fun. She’d obviously missed out on that instruction.
“There’s a place I’ve heard about near downtown.”
“All righty then, we’ll go there.”
“I assume you don’t have GPS on this truck.”
He snapped his fingers. “Dang. Forgot to tie the homing pigeon to the roof before I left Texas.”
She tapped something on the screen of her phone. After a moment a male voice with an Australian accent told him to turn right out of the driveway. He followed the instructions, although he didn’t trust the Aussie tour guide any more than he did the female version. They’d as likely guide him to the middle of a cornfield and tell him he’d reached his destination.
Jen set her phone on the seat. Then she swiped the screen on her wristwatch. She’d been wearing it this morning too. He wondered if she wore it to bed, and if she’d be checking her notifications over his shoulder while he tried to get her pregnant.
He was pretty sure he had to have lost his mind to agree to this.
“What do you usually do when you go out?”
She looked up. Not as distracted as it seemed. Maybe she used that watch to avoid talking to him. “I don’t go out that often. When I do, it’s usually for cocktails or dinner, maybe a movie or a play, sometimes a concert. Mostly client entertainment.”
“How about when you’re on a date?”
“I don’t go on many dates.”
He found that hard to believe, with that pretty face and a body that could put him into cardiac arrest. “Just business, no fun?”
“No time to goof around.” She glanced at the glowing watch.
“You’re too busy checking your ovulation to goof around?”
She gave him an arched look that said she didn’t appreciate his humor. He knew she did, maybe just not that particular zinger. “We have a big pitch coming up this week. I thought my assistant might be sending a message.”
At least he’d gotten her talking.
“Troy said you were a vice president or something.”
“Senior partner. They call it vice president to impress the clients.”
Maybe she really did work all the time. Had she given much thought as to how a child would change her life?
“When you have a kid, you’ll need to goof around more.”
The remark earned him another raised eyebrow. “I’ll make time. I’ll set up play dates.”
He didn’t laugh because she didn’t appear to be making a joke. She couldn’t be serious though. That wasn’t spend
ing time with her kid. That was arranging for someone else to spend time.
“My dad took me fishing and taught me how to ride a horse. My grandpa showed me how to shoot and we went hunting. Our family took float trips and camping trips. Mom hosted scouts and she helped out with the 4-H Club. What did your parents do with you?”
The way she stared at him made him wonder if he had hair growing out of his nose.
“Do with me? They sent me to private academies, and I spent summers at camp.” She delivered the comment without a trace of emotion.
Logan’s chest started to ache. No wonder all she could come up with were those play dates. What kind of parents packed off their child? “You deserved better than that.”
She turned her head to look out the side window. “What are you talking about? My parents gave me everything I could ask for.”
Yeah, everything except what she needed.
The tug in his chest got stronger. He considered beating his forehead against the steering wheel to distract his heart, keep it from wandering off and settling in Jen’s lap. He was a damn fool if he let himself care for this woman. His heart wasn’t what she wanted.
“Turn right and continue right...”
He didn’t need the reminder. He’d determined at a relatively early age to stay on the right path. His older brothers had raised enough hell for all of them combined. He’d disliked being forced into a mold as much as they did, but seeing his mother cry over them had shaken him to the core. He’d vowed she would never cry over him. Logan sure hoped his mom was keeping busy in heaven and not paying attention. He knew without asking what she would think of this deal he’d struck with Jen. He still wasn’t sure why he’d agreed, and he didn’t want to think about it too deeply. Not tonight, anyway.
The bright Atlanta skyline shone over the tops of buildings. He liked visiting big cities, but didn’t want to live in one. Jen, on the other hand, looked like a city girl from the tips of her manicured fingers to the ends of her pedicured toes. They couldn’t have much in common, which was another reason to avoid letting this attraction drag him into a relationship that wouldn’t last, even if she allowed herself to consider the possibility.
That didn’t stop him from being curious about her. “You mentioned your dad lives in New York. Did you grow up there?”
She glanced down at where she’d put her phone on the seat, but didn’t pick it up to look at it, a minor improvement. “No, I was born there, but we moved around a lot, before my parents split up when I was in high school. When I was younger, we lived all over the United States and in Europe. I’ve worked in London, Paris and Tokyo.”
He felt like a hayseed.
“Our family took vacations in the western U.S., mostly Colorado. I’ve been to maybe twenty of the fifty states. Never been out of the country, except for Mexico. Have you lived in big cities mostly?”
“And in the suburbs. We lived in Druid Hill when I was ten. I liked all the trees and the old houses, and it’s a nice place to raise a family. That’s why I moved back.” Leaning against the seat, she seemed to grow more comfortable and stretched out her legs.
He imagined running his hand up one long, slender calf while trying to keep his eyes on the highway.
“What about you? Have you lived in the same place all your life?”
“Other than going off to college, I’ve lived on the ranch all my life. Imagine that sounds pretty boring to someone who’s been all over the world.”
“Actually, it sounds wonderful. Living in a place that was home to generations of your family must give you a strong sense of belonging.”
Logan tried to put himself in her place and couldn’t. As much as he envied her experiences, he wouldn’t trade his life. “Yeah, guess you say that. I grew up with lots of family around, and always felt like I was part of something. Something bigger than me.”
“That sounds nice. I wouldn’t have a clue about living on a ranch.” She sighed, a wistful sound. Could mean nothing. Then again, she’d brought up the possibility of living on a ranch, not him. The thought of taking her home made him way happier than good sense should allow.
“If you could adjust to moving every couple of years, you could adjust to living on a ranch.”
“Are you kidding? I don’t know one end of a cow from the other.”
“Trust me, you’d figure that out real quick.”
Her open smile took his breath away. She was even prettier when she let down her guard and enjoyed herself. That’s what she needed. Someone to help her find her way back to having fun and loving life.
“You have arrived at your destination.”
“Shit.” Logan jerked the wheel and tires squealed. The truck bounced into a parking lot. Jen’s phone went airborne and she grabbed for it. Rather than dodge pedestrians and a long line of cars and trucks, he swerved to the left and found an empty space at the far end.
That was a close one. He’d let his mind wander, and not to a safe place. No more dwelling on the future, or shouldering more responsibility than what he already had. He was in no position to settle down, anyway. Not until he’d finished his education and gotten his life back on track.
He opened her door and helped her out of the truck.
She looked surprised, then smiled. “That’s sweet. Old-fashioned, but sweet.”
“Haven’t other men opened doors, or offered you their arm?”
“Let’s see...” She pursed her lips as if in thought. “Mm, no.”
“What kind of men have you been hangin’ out with?”
“Men from this century.”
Jen slipped her arm through his. They started across the parking lot toward a brick building with a set of glass doors painted black, and above entrance hung a pair of metal longhorns. Nothing else about the place suggested it was a honky-tonk.
He stood in line behind two men wearing straw cowboy hats, tight-fitting jeans and spotless shirts. One of them turned. He didn’t give Jen more than a passing glance before eyeing Logan in a blatant invitation.
Logan didn’t react to the man’s interest, but he sure as hell started paying attention to his surroundings. He’d been so focused on Jen that he hadn’t really noticed the people around them. Most were men, in couples or in groups, some embracing. He shot a quick glance in her direction to see if the obvious had registered yet. Based on what she’d said earlier, she hadn’t been here before, so maybe she didn’t know she’d brought him to a gay nightclub.
She lifted up on her toes, craning her neck to peer over the heads of the men lined up in front of her. “Looks like a long line.”
That offered a convenient excuse for leaving without offending or embarrassing her.
Logan shrugged. “We can try somewhere else.”
“I suppose. But if we drive around aimlessly, we might end up somewhere we’d get mugged. If this doesn’t appeal to you, we can just a grab a quick bite and get back early.”
Her sweet-as-sugar smile set off his bullshit alarm. Jen knew exactly what she’d done, and had done it hoping to cut their date short. Or she wanted him to think she was a lesbian, so he wouldn’t hold her to her agreement to sleep with him. He had nothing against gays, but he’d bet his right nut she was as straight as a fence post.
If he took her home, she’d brush him off, saying she needed to get work done, and then come up with some equally annoying excuse for not sleeping with him. He could try to find another place and drag her along, or he could call her bluff.
“Nah, we’re here. Might as well see what it’s like inside. Besides, I’m in the mood to dance. And I hear a good song.”
Blaring from speakers mounted on an outside wall was a popular dance song that seemed inappropriately appropriate, and Logan turned away to hide his grin as the words filled every space inside the building. “Save a horse, ride a cowboy.”
***
The strobe lights and loud, throbbing music would’ve been enough to send Jen running. Being pressed on all sides by hot, sweaty bodie
s put her into a full-blown state of panic. Her hands grew clammy, her heart raced and her mouth became dry. Next would come the lightheadedness. If she didn’t get out of here, she’d faint. Crowds were one of her triggers.
Damn, she should’ve guided him to a teahouse.
Logan slipped his arm around her waist and drew her against his side. Being touched usually made her anxiety worse. But for some reason, his touch didn’t trigger the urge to recoil. The embrace seemed more protective than possessive. Maybe that was the difference. Whatever the reason, having his arm around her helped. The suffocating pressure on her lungs eased.
She huddled closer. Why had he brought her inside? He couldn’t want to be here. He wasn’t gay—no way—but he hadn’t balked, as she’d predicted he would, being a macho cowboy. Why, he hadn’t even blinked when the handsome man in front of them had turned all the way around to ogle him. Was he bi?
He put his lips to her ear. “My goodness, you picked a popular place.”
The looks he was getting from the male patrons were heating up the already steamy room. Overpowering odors—cigarettes, booze, men’s cologne mixed with sweat—made her stomach churn. If she could hold her breath without losing consciousness, she would.
“How about a drink?”
“No. Thank you.” She longed to drag him away. That was still an option.
“Let’s dance.”
“No—” She didn’t get out thank you before he hauled her onto a crowded dance floor where the patrons were forming lines. They looked like clones, in their skin-tight jeans, cowboy hats and fine leather boots. No manure on their shoes. Most of the men had removed their shirts and were bare-chested. She didn’t know why. Didn’t care. She just wanted out.
Logan positioned them in front of a black giant and his small-boned, pale-skinned partner, whose eye makeup looked better than hers.
“Time to get down and get footloose!” The jarring shout came from the loudspeakers, and the music swelled.
Jen’s lungs shrank like deflated balloons. She drew a deep breath, forcing air into them. “I don’t know this dance.” She had to yell to be heard over the rhythmic drumming start of Footloose.
