Between You and Me

by Jennifer Gracen

  “Tonight?” he repeated. “Uh . . . yeah, I can do that. How’s seven o’clock? Is that too late?”

  “No, that’s perfect.” She wanted to invite him over, order in dinner, and have the privacy of her home for such an important conversation, but she knew he’d been purposely staying out of her house unless necessary. The attraction bubbling between them was easier to put off when they were out in public places. She quickly tried to think of the quieter restaurants she knew. Somewhere they could really talk. “How about Sophie’s Bistro? Do you know it? It’s on Montdale, near the yoga studio . . .”

  “Yeah, I know it. Should I pick you up, or meet you there?”

  “Meet me there.” Tess had a feeling if it didn’t go well, he’d need that escape. “I’ll make a reservation.”

  “Okay. Um . . .” Logan paused. “What are we talking about? Anything serious?”

  “I have a proposition for you,” she said. “And I guarantee it’s not what you think. In fact, you couldn’t guess if you tried.”

  “Really. Now I’m intrigued.”

  “Good, that means you’ll show up.”

  He laughed. “Like I’d ever stand you up. See you at seven.”

  She flopped back onto the bed, her heart racing and body wired with adrenaline. Asking Logan to be her sperm donor was kind of crazy. He’d probably say no. And, when he turned her down, there was a chance he’d stop talking to her altogether. Anything was possible. But . . . she bit down on her lip, a smile spreading on her face. But what if he said yes? It would be the answer to all her prayers. She could almost imagine what their baby would look like. Hope and nervous elation filled her.

  * * *

  Tess had managed not only to get a reservation at Sophie’s, but for her favorite table, half hidden in a back corner, away from the main sea of tables. Its location added an air of intimacy to the already cozy atmosphere. They were as private as a couple could be when dining out in public. But when their entrées arrived, she fidgeted with her fork, pushing around the food on her plate. Although the sesame/ginger tuna at Sophie’s Bistro was one of her favorite dishes in all of Aspen, she had no appetite.

  She’d made it through small talk with Logan, asking him about his day, and answered his as well . . . but she wasn’t able to think about anything except her ovulation cycle, the whole process, and how the hell she could ask him to be her donor.

  A few bites into his flatiron steak, he frowned slightly as he looked at her and asked, “You okay?”

  “Me?” she asked, her voice lifting an octave. “Yeah. Great. Why?”

  “You’re not eating. And all night you’ve seemed . . . nervous. Not like yourself.” Logan’s eyes narrowed on her. “What’s going on, Tess?” He reached for his club soda and drank.

  Busted, she put her fork down. “You’re right. I’m not quite myself tonight. Sorry about that.”

  “No need to be sorry, but just tell me what’s going on.” His shrewd, pale green eyes now locked on her, no mercy. “You said you had a proposition for me. Whatever it is obviously has you off your game. Talk to me. I’m listening.”

  She nodded and took a long, cleansing breath, trying to stay cool even as her heart fluttered and took off like a racehorse. “I don’t know where to start.”

  “Should I be worried?” he asked.

  “No. God, no. I should.” A hint of a nervous smile flicked across her features.

  He put down his fork and knife, sat very still, and gazed at her, waiting patiently. “Just blurt it out if you have to,” he finally coaxed.

  “Okay.” She cleared her dry throat, stole a quick sip of water, and took another deep breath. “You know I want to have a baby.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “You know I went to the clinic and met with the doctor, had an exam, all of that.”

  “Yes, I do.” His steady gaze softened with concern. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

  Her heart did a fluttery thing at the look on his face. He was so kind. He cared. Genuinely cared. She wasn’t sure how or when that happened, but he did, she could tell, and it moved her. “I’m more than okay,” she assured him when she found her voice again. “I’m great. Perfect health. And my doctor thinks I shouldn’t have much trouble conceiving.”

  “That’s fantastic.” Logan’s warm smile made her skin heat up. “I’m glad for you, Tess, really.”

  “But there’s one major factor I don’t have in place yet,” she barreled on, making herself talk before she lost her nerve, which was a possibility. “I still need a sperm donor. I haven’t been able to decide on one yet.”

  “How does that work?” Logan asked. “They have, like, what, a database or something? Is that where you choose?” He picked up his utensils again and cut into his steak, taking a bite.

  “Yes, exactly. And I’ve been going over them, and there are a few decent candidates based on the bios, but . . .” Her heart thudded so hard she wondered if he could hear it. “This is my child we’re talking about. I want to find someone who will bring a lot to the table, so to speak. It’s a tall order.”

  “Well, sure it is,” Logan said. Now that she was talking, she supposed he’d relaxed some, because his eyes weren’t searing through her anymore and he was eating. Casual again, no problems here. “I don’t envy you that. Must be hard, and nerve-racking. Plus, you just hope these guys—the potential donors—are telling the truth, right? You don’t really know, since you don’t know them.”

  “Yes!” she enthused, leaning in. “Exactly that! I know the clinic has a stringent screening process, but sure, those men can lie about some things, how do I know? So . . .” A new wave of determination zipped through her, and she folded her hands on the table as she leveled her gaze on Logan. “There’s a thing called a known donor. A lot of women go that route. They’re able to go into the process fully confident, because the donor is someone they know. Could be a boyfriend, or just a friend . . . someone they already know and trust.”

  “Makes sense,” Logan said, and took another bite.

  “I’m glad you think so.” Tess swallowed hard. “The thing is, I have someone in mind to ask. I know it’s a monumental thing to ask of someone, but I have gotten to know this man. And I think most of his attributes—both physical and emotional—are ones that I’d be proud to have in my own son or daughter. I just don’t know how to get the words out.”

  Logan half smiled, still chewing . . . then stopped chewing. He swallowed hard, meeting her eyes. “Tess . . . this proposition of yours. It wouldn’t be . . .”

  “Yes, Logan.” Her heart nearly thumped its way out of her chest, but she said, “I’m asking you if you’d consider being my sperm donor.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Logan’s heart nearly stopped in his damn chest. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Not at all.” Tess met his stare, a confident gleam in her eyes that unnerved him. “There would be conditions, of course. And legal documents and the like I’d need you to agree to and sign. But yes, I want you to be my donor. The more I’ve thought about it, the more I know you’re a fantastic choice.”

  “The more you—you’ve thought about this?” he stammered. “About me?”

  “A lot.”

  “This is nuts.” He practically flung down his knife and fork. “You’ve been here for what, two weeks?”

  “Tomorrow will be three, actually. But I know what I know.”

  “And what’s that, Tess?” He felt his blood race and start a low simmer. “What do you know?”

  “That you’re a smart, caring, seriously decent man,” she said fervently. “That you possess quiet strength and deep compassion for others. You also have a sense of humor, dry as it is, and you’re clever and friendly. Those traits alone made me unable to knock you off the top of my wish list.” She fidgeted with the edge of her plate, rubbing at something that wasn’t there. “Add to all that your physical attributes, of which there are many, and it made so much sense. You’re . . .
you’re the package deal I’ve been looking for. You bring so much . . . I’m convinced it’s the right choice.” She sat up a little straighter, took a quick breath, and met his stare directly. “So, that’s my proposition. I’m not asking for an immediate answer, but for you to think about it. Would you consider being my donor?”

  He gaped at her, stunned speechless. His head was spinning.

  “I’d need you to have a full screening, of course,” she continued. “Both medical and psychosocial. But we know each other. We’ve become friends. So we can actually talk about things, which is such an amazing advantage! I can ask you any questions directly, and I trust you’ll be truthful with me in answering them.” She drew a quick breath and licked her lips. “It just makes so much sense to me.”

  He stared at her, this beautiful, commanding woman, as a million thoughts raced through his head. Finally he said, “You’re out of your damn mind.”

  She blinked but said simply, “I disagree.”

  He swore under his breath. “Tess, I’m . . . flattered. Really. I had no idea you thought . . . so highly of me.”

  “I do.”

  “Thank you. But no way can I help you on this.” His chest was tight, and he had to push out air to speak. “It’s a terrible idea. You haven’t totally thought it through.”

  “On the contrary,” she said with such composed sureness that it threw him. “I’ve thought of little else the past few days.”

  Jesus. How could he make her see he was the worst candidate on earth for something like this? “I’m a recovering alcoholic,” he said staunchly.

  “Stress on recovering. Which speaks volumes about your character, willpower, and strength.”

  “Thank you, but that doesn’t mean it’s gone forever. I could relapse at any time.”

  “I suppose you could,” she conceded. “But if you haven’t relapsed even once in eleven years, the chances get lower as more time passes. My money’s on you.”

  “And that’s okay with you? That risk factor?” He glared at her, trying to get her to understand. “It’s in my genes, Tess. It’s a disease.”

  “I’m fully aware of that. I’m not downplaying it.”

  “But you are, enough so that it passes the tests? Both medical and psychosocial?”

  Her lips pressed together as she formulated her thoughts. He was about to forge ahead when she said, “Yes, it warrants notice. But not enough to knock you out of contention.” Her voice and expression turned wry as she added, “My own father is a borderline alcoholic, who just won’t ever admit to it. He certainly didn’t have traumatic circumstances like you did. You’ve worked hard to overcome that part of your life, and you have. Admirably. That strength of mind and character outweighs the potential risk. At least, for me.” She smiled softly. “Besides. You won’t be raising the child. I will. Even if you do fall off the wagon . . . it won’t be around my child. So. Next rebuttal. Hit me.”

  Logan’s jaw went slack. “You’re serious. You’re fucking serious about this.”

  “Dead serious,” she said.

  “My mother has cancer,” he said. “What about that? That’s in my medical history.”

  “My aunt had breast cancer,” she said. “Thankfully, she beat it, but she had it. That’s a direct link too. Unfortunately, most people have a relative who’s had cancer. I can’t take any potential donor off the list for that. What else?”

  He raked his hands through his hair and sat back. This woman was insane. She was out of her goddamn mind if she thought he was the answer to her prayers. But she seemed so fiercely convinced, it was mind-blowing. And made him want to shake her. He pulled at the neck of his sweater, which suddenly felt too tight around his throat. “I’m not a good candidate.”

  “I think you are. For many reasons.”

  “Why, because we have some chemistry? You’re attracted to me, you think I’m good-looking?” he said, knowing he was losing control but unable to stop the slide. “You want to make sure your child is tall and pretty? That’s super flattering, but not enough of a reason to—”

  “Of course you’re good-looking,” she said flatly. “Yes, I’m attracted to you. Come on, you’re gorgeous. That’s just a fact. Do your physical traits help keep you on the yes list? Absolutely, I won’t deny that. You will make strong, beautiful children. But that’s not enough of a reason for me to ask you to be my donor, to make up half the DNA of my child.” Her elegant brows arched as she added sharply, “Give me a little more credit than that. I can find a good-looking man anywhere. It’s what’s inside that counts. Do I really have to say that?”

  He scratched at his beard. She kept throwing him for loops, and her single-minded focus on what she wanted was scary as hell. He had to get real with her. Remind her he was so far from perfect, it was laughable that she’d even consider him a prospect. “There’s something you seem to have forgotten about me.” His voice hardened, and every muscle in his body went taut with tension. “I don’t want kids.”

  He thought it’d be the thing that stopped her cold. But her big blue eyes took on an almost victorious gleam, and she practically purred, “That, Logan, is what makes you absolutely ideal as my donor.” She smiled, and he imagined that must be what she looked like at work when she was about to close in for a killer deal in the boardroom. It was both glorious and intimidating. “I don’t want you to be my baby’s father. I want you to be the sperm donor. There’s a world of difference in there. Can I explain further? Are you willing to listen?”

  Too mixed up to say much, he nodded, figuring the least he could do was hear her out. Plus, hell yes, he was curious to know what was going on in that sharp mind of hers.

  “I want to have a baby and raise it on my own. I don’t want a partner, and I don’t need a father figure.” A long, wayward curl bounced into her eyes, and she brushed it back impatiently. “You know I have the resources to ensure I can raise a child well. I have the money, I’ll make the time, and I have so much love to give . . . my child will want for nothing.”

  “Except a father.” Logan couldn’t believe that’d burst from his mouth, but it had.

  She didn’t even blink. “I have three amazing brothers,” she said. “My child will never lack for male role models or fatherlike affection. If anything, I can say with full confidence that my child’s three uncles will make sure he or she never feels unloved, or feels a lack of that kind of attention.”

  Logan found himself nodding. “Well . . . I’ve never met Pierce, but from what I know of Charles and Dane, you’re probably right.”

  “I know I’m right. We’re all very close. My child will have three doting uncles, three lovely aunts, and a ton of cousins. He or she will have a big, loving family.” That hurdle cleared, Tess barreled on. “I hate to say it, but the fact that you’ve told me in no uncertain terms that you don’t want kids is so ideal for me, it’s ridiculous. The fact that you don’t want to be a father is perfect, because I don’t want you to be its father.”

  She paused for a moment to let that sink in. “In fact, I’ll be drawing up legal documents for my donor—you, hopefully, but if not, whoever I choose—stating that the donor agrees to relinquish any and all parental rights. All parental rights, all financial rights, everything. This child is going to be mine, and mine alone. I take full responsibility. I want it that way. I’m not asking you to be a father. I’m not asking anything of you . . . except for your badass DNA.”

  Logan wanted to be affronted, offended, and outraged. But seeing it from her side, it all made a lot of sense. Did that make her controlling? Maybe. It also showed just how much thought she’d put into this. She was clear on her wants and decisions, wasn’t hiding that, was going to cover her ass legally . . . He had to give her credit for covering every angle.

  “Does that make you feel any better about it?” she asked, her voice softer and eyes shining with . . . ah hell, hope. She was really hoping he’d say yes to this craziness. “You’d still have your freedom, your own life. I’m jus
t . . . well, to be blunt, I’m just asking for your sperm. That may sound callous, I know that. But also completely open and honest.” Her tongue darted out to lick her lips. “I think you possess so many qualities I’d love to have in my child, Logan. I can sit here for a while and list all your good qualities . . .” She tried to grin, probably to offset the hesitance he caught in her voice.

  Then those brilliant blue eyes of hers got glassy, and his heart nearly stopped in his chest. “Will you help me, Logan? I know it may sound a little wild, and I know it’s a lot to ask. I do know that. I’m not taking this lightly, and neither should you. But would you at least think it over?”

  He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. Something rose up in his chest and cut off his air. He shoved away from the table and shot to his feet. “I’m sorry, Tess.” His voice felt rough in his throat. “I can’t. No. Just no.”

  She looked up at him, the hope in her eyes dissolving into disappointment. Goddammit, that sent a lance through his gut. But she blinked it away, put on her best game face, and murmured, “All right. I understand.” She sat up a little straighter, recomposing herself as her gaze dropped to the table. He was glad for that, because that stark look in her eyes had been almost too much to take. Then she reached for her water glass . . . and he noticed her hand was trembling.

  His entire core clenched miserably.

  “I have to go.” He pulled his wallet from his pocket and threw a few bills on the table. He couldn’t look at her. He knew it was wrong, but he had to get out of there. “I’m sorry.” Grabbing his coat from the back of his chair, he headed for the door and stormed out into the night.

  * * *

  For three days, Logan stewed over Tess’s unbelievable request. The first day, he was upset and a little angry, but by that night he admitted to himself there was no good reason to be angry. How could he be anything other than flattered, really? The anger was misdirected. He was angry at himself, for being a damn coward. Running out on her like that . . . Jesus, what a dick move. He was better than that . . . or at least he thought he was, but he’d hightailed it out of that bistro like he was racing Usain Bolt.