His Baby Dream

Still, he’d see Harper around town, and he didn’t like keeping her in the dark. Moreover, as the years went by, she might learn he’d had the child with a surrogate, notice the resemblance and put the pieces together.

Peter took another look at the woman in the picture. Her skin glowed, and her delicate necklace resembled a daisy chain. The impression was natural and healthy, which matched the woman he’d seen today.

Troubled, he closed the site. He’d hoped to make a decision. Instead, he’d simply raised new complications.

Well, he’d only decided a little over a month ago—once he received his diagnosis from Dr. Rattigan—to proceed with becoming a father. Peter had quickly passed the screening process and background check required by the hospital’s surrogacy program. Now he faced one of the most important decisions of his life.

He’d have to think about it.

Chapter Two

Mia was jumping up and down, her tennis shoes springing off the living room carpet. “Hold still,” muttered Harper, taking aim with a brush and achieving only a passing swipe at the messy honey-colored strands.

“Good thing you cut her hair,” observed Stacy, who looked feminine and comfortable in a peach knit top and maternity jeans. Only halfway through the first trimester, her pregnancy was already beginning to show, since she was carrying triplets. “It’s adorable even when it’s rumpled.”

“I’m going to Disneyland!” the little girl crowed. Although she’d been to the amusement park in nearby Anaheim before, it never lost its appeal.

“And we appreciate your keeping us company.” Stacy’s fiancé, Dr. Cole Rattigan, grinned with anticipation. He had honest brown eyes and a sturdy build that he maintained by bicycling to and from the hospital almost every day.

“I’m sure the park will be full of kids.” Harper set the brush aside. “Saturdays in summer tend to be jammed.”

“That’s half the fun. Anyway, we want to experience this through her eyes,” Stacy said. “It’ll be years before our kids are old enough to go on rides. And with three of them, I doubt we’ll have a chance to relax and enjoy it.”

“My first trip definitely requires a kid.” Having moved to Safe Harbor from Minneapolis the previous year to head the men’s fertility program, Cole evidently hadn’t found time until now for the county’s best-known tourist attraction.

“Mia, stop jumping! This isn’t sports camp.” Harper restrained her daughter before she crashed into the dark-wood entertainment center.

“We’ll be honing our parenting skills,” the surgeon added. “This is as much a learning experience as a pleasure trip.”

While that might seem an odd attitude, Harper had grown accustomed to Cole’s refreshingly naive view of personal interactions. Brilliant in his medical practice, he’d only recently emerged from an emotional cocoon after falling in love with Stacy. Raised by a surgeon mother who’d purposely chosen an uninvolved father, he’d missed out on many of the usual childhood rituals, such as birthday parties and trips to theme parks. “I wish you’d at least let me pay for her ticket.”

“It’s her birthday present,” the doctor responded cheerfully. “Besides, we like spending time with Mia.” He and Stacy had babysat previously, allowing Harper to attend a seminar on digital photo editing.

“Her birthday isn’t for two weeks. But thank you.” Harper took a final peek inside Mia’s backpack. Additional sunscreen, tissues, a water bottle, school ID and the cell phone that doubled as a camera. Everything checked out.

As her friends escorted the bouncy girl to their car, Harper stood in the doorway of her ranch-style home. Around the front steps, geraniums, miniature roses and marigolds brightened the flower bed, and the scent of jasmine drifted from a neighbor’s yard.

As for Mia’s upcoming birthday, Harper hoped the Disneyland visit might compensate for what she feared would be a lackluster party. She couldn’t afford a costly celebration like some of her daughter’s school friends had thrown, with hired entertainers or a trip to see Cirque du Soleil. The rent on this house already strained her budget.

The car vanished down the street. Harper stood for a moment longer, letting herself adjust. As much as she relished a rare free day, it felt weird not to have her daughter with her.

She went inside for her camera. As a teen, in addition to shooting for the high school website, she’d taken pictures for the sheer pleasure of seeing the world afresh. Since then, she’d been too busy to do more than record key events. That was changing, however.

Harper packed snack items, applied sunscreen and set out extra food and water for Mia’s black-and-white kitten. Then she locked the house behind her with the buoyant sense of going on a holiday.

Rather than take her car and have to pay attention to driving, Harper strolled a few blocks to the bus stop on Safe Harbor Boulevard. En route, she paused to photograph a spray of yellow blossoms on a tree and a climbing rose blooming across an arched trellis. Typical of early summer weather in Southern California, the sky was overcast. That would burn off later, but for now a breeze cooled the air.

Slowly, she relaxed into an easy rhythm that contrasted with her usual hurry. A whole day to take pictures. How precious was that?

On the bus, a family clustered with a large picnic basket. A group of girls chattered and laughed, while a young couple sneaked kisses. After observing her fellow riders, Harper turned to gaze out the window, studying shapes and patterns of light and shadow.

They rolled past stores, offices and the occasional bicyclist on a trail that paralleled the boulevard. Off to the right Harper glimpsed the six-story medical center and the adjacent office building where she worked.

Even though she’d loved being a full-time mother, Harper treasured her life now. It was busy, yes, and demanding, but she and Mia had a lot of freedom. If she didn’t feel like cooking, they ate sandwiches and salads for dinner. On weekends, they took spur-of-the-moment trips.

Harper had never experienced this kind of independence before. Stunned by her father’s death in a car crash when she was sixteen, she’d clung to her boyfriend, Sean. She’d leaned on him through college and their four-year marriage, adapting her interests to his. Hiking and motorcycle riding—until her pregnancy—had replaced photography, and being a wife and mother had replaced nursing. She’d had no idea to what an extent her reliance on him had preempted her sense of self until after his death.

Although Harper would always treasure their years together, she didn’t care to repeat the experience with anyone else. Today, she felt liberated.

When the bus crested a rise, before them spread the U-shaped harbor from which the town took its name. Small boats and a scattering of yachts lined its edges, while sailboats and catamarans headed toward the jetties that protected it from the Pacific Ocean.

Along a harborside quay lay shops and a café. Farther down the shore, past the yacht club and some private waterside homes, Harper noted beach umbrellas and blankets staking out areas of sand. So far, however, only a handful of wet-suited surfers braved the chilly waves. It was always colder at the ocean, even compared to a few miles inland.

Zipping her jacket against the wind, Harper descended at the bus stop and made her way onto the beach. No one seemed to mind when she captured their images: an older couple holding hands as they strolled, a man tossing a beach ball with his little boy, a woman in a floppy hat pouring a steaming cup of liquid from a thermos. Thank goodness for memory cards that stored thousands of images.

A clump of palm trees framed the subtle colors of sea and sky. Walking and clicking, Harper lost track of time—a rare luxury. As the day warmed, she removed her jacket and tied it around her waist.

A man caught her eye—a muscular fellow, head down, wind ruffling his hair and sweat darkening his T-shirt as he jogged toward her along the sand. Athletic shorts emphasized his sculpted thighs and, admiring the classic impression of masculinity, Harper snapped a couple of quick pictures.

Then his chin lifted and familiar blue eyes met hers. Startled, Harper lost her grip on the camera, which was saved from a fall by the cord around her neck. At the same time, the man slowed.

“Peter. Uh, hi.” She debated whether to apologize for photographing him, but that might require an explanation. And her only reason had been that she found him attractive.

Breathing hard, Peter halted in front of her. Since their conversation the previous Monday, Harper had glimpsed him several times at sports camp. He’d always been surrounded by mothers asking questions about their children and sometimes, judging by their body language, flirting with him. Who could blame them?

He indicated the camera. “Is this for a project?”

“Nothing in particular.” In his presence, Harper instinctively tossed her hair, only to find that she missed the accustomed weight of it. Anyway, she didn’t mean to react with flirtatious moves like those other women. “Photography used to be my hobby. I’m rediscovering it.”

“Mind if I take a look?”

“Not at all.” Harper switched the camera to display mode and handed it over.

Peter leaned toward her as he flicked through the pictures. “You have a terrific eye.”

Shifting closer to see the shots, Harper caught the appealing scent of clean male sweat. “Isn’t that a cute little boy? Something about him reminded me of...” She broke off.

“Of Sean?” he asked.

Harper examined the image. “Not really. Just—oh, it’s not important.” She wasn’t ready to share her dream about little boys.

He shifted away. “Mind if we walk? I’d like to keep moving while I cool down.”

“Sure.” Glad of the company after a morning alone, Harper fell into place as they strolled toward the pier. She adjusted her stride to his without difficulty, since he was only a bit taller than her five foot nine inches.

“Where’s Mia?” he asked.

Guiltily, Harper realized that she hadn’t thought about her daughter in over an hour. Still, she’d resolved not to be a helicopter parent, and Mia could reach her by phone if necessary. “She went to Disneyland with my friend Stacy. It’s her fiancé’s first visit and they thought it would be more fun with a kid.”

A Frisbee flew toward them from a group of teen boys. Peter caught it easily and skimmed it back. “You don’t worry about her?” Quickly, he added, “Not that you should.”

“Stacy’s a nurse and her fiancé’s a doctor, so she’s in good hands,” Harper said.

The crowd on the beach grew thicker as they approached the pier, forcing them to weave around sunbathers and picnickers. “Want to grab a bite at the café?” Peter asked. “I don’t mean to interrupt your photo session.”

“Oh, the light’s too harsh now, anyway.” Harper laughed. “That was rude, wasn’t it? Like I’d only join you because the light’s bad for picture-taking.”

Peter unfurled a smile. “I appreciate the frankness.”

“I’m sure Angela was way more tactful.” She halted, regarding him apologetically. “I’m running off at the mouth.”

“Nothing wrong with talking about Angela.” Peter held out a hand to help her up some large rocks that abutted the pier. “I mentioned Sean, didn’t I?”

“I guess you did.” His grip sent prickles along Harper’s arm. Reaching the wooden quay, she released his hand quickly.

They strolled past boat slips and, on the inland side, boutiques selling beachwear, surfboards, hats and anything else a tourist might buy. At the Sea Star Café, they were lucky enough to snag a booth by the window.

“I’ll get the food,” Peter offered, since the café served from the counter. “What would you like?”

Harper handed him a twenty-dollar bill. “I’ll have a cranberry muffin, a blueberry muffin and a cup of chai, and don’t even try to pay for it.”

Peter’s eyebrows drew together. “Okay, but—is that what you’re eating for lunch?”

“Why?”

“Not exactly a balanced diet.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a health nut.” She bristled at the idea of someone dictating what she ate. This was her free day.

“No, it’s just that as a...” He floundered for a moment. “I figured that, as a nurse, you’d be a stickler for nutrition.”

“Sean used to get on my case about carbs,” she responded testily. “It was all protein and vegetables with him. I’m making up for lost time.”

“Okay, okay.” Peter raised a hand placatingly. “Just asking.”

Harper hadn’t meant to start an argument. By the time he returned, carrying a tray between the crowded tables, she regretted snarling at him. “Thanks, Peter. I’m sorry about biting your head off.”

“I can take it.” He set her cup of tea and the muffins in front of her.

“Usually I eat healthy stuff, but today when Mia isn’t here, I don’t have to act like a grown-up.”

“No explanation necessary.” On his plate rested a whole-wheat pita sandwich bursting with sprouts, hummus and lettuce. “I wasn’t trying to control you. That’s what comes from being a teacher, I suppose.”

“Especially a biology teacher?” she teased.

“I’m glad you equate that with healthy habits.” Peter took his seat. “Some women draw other conclusions about my expertise in biology.” His cheeks reddened. “Man, that came out wrong.”

“Good thing this isn’t a date,” Harper told him. “Just think of me as Sean with, well, a few distinctions.”

“I’m trying not to think about those distinctions.” He turned an even brighter shade. “Seriously, I don’t know where this stuff comes from.”

“Most men wouldn’t apologize, they’d move in for the kill.” Harper had fended off more than a few piranhas, including men accompanying their pregnant wives to Dr. Franco’s office. She felt sorry for any woman married to a creep like that. “Um, as long as I have your attention, can I pick your brain?”

“By all means.” He regarded her over the pita.

“I’m planning a birthday party for Mia that won’t cost much.” As they ate, Harper explained the situation, concluding with, “Any ideas about what I could do in my backyard?”

She wasn’t sure why she expected a childless man to come up with an answer. Still, as a teacher and a sports camp leader, Peter had experience with groups of kids, Harper reflected as she watched him study the sailboats in the harbor. It was hard not to sneak glances at his appealing profile.

And hard not to notice that he’s all guy. Confident, physically attuned men drew her, and Peter had that in common with Sean. Like Sean, he was also a little domineering, she reminded herself. It wasn’t a bad trait, just unsuited to her.

Clear blue eyes refocused on her. “My personal philosophy is Never Miss a Chance to Teach.”

“Even at a birthday party?”

“The average backyard is a paradise for biologists.” Pushing aside his empty plate, he planted his elbows on the table.

The only backyard biology that occurred to Harper involved a shady bower, protective bushes and activities wildly inappropriate for a children’s party. However, they’d already dismissed that topic, and thank goodness.

Hoping her thoughts didn’t show, she said, “I could put them to work planting a vegetable garden. Adrienne did that last spring when she was watching Mia and Reggie. My daughter swears they dug for hours, although mostly I think they played in the dirt.”

“Might be kind of messy for a party,” Peter said.

“I agree. What else did you have in mind?”

“Bugs.” He gave the word a lilt, as if it ought to pique her interest.

“Spoken like a biology teacher.” Nevertheless, Harper supposed bugs might make an interesting theme. In her experience, kids seemed to love eating Gummy worms and chocolate mud pie cupcakes. “I could design invitations and decorations on that theme,” she mused. “It wouldn’t be hard to come up with bug-related games, either.”

“If your backyard is like most people’s, I’m sure you can find anthills, ladybugs and spiders.” Peter’s face lit up with enthusiasm.

“You mean, real bugs?”

“Magnifying glasses should make good party favors.”

That did sound like fun, if handled right. “What would the kids do?”

“Spot bugs and identify them,” Peter said. “In the process, they’ll learn about the creatures that share our lawns and homes.”

“Our homes?” Harper shuddered. “Not mine, thank you.”

“Even in a clean house, you’ll find tiny spiders, and if there are spiders, they’re eating something,” he observed. “Plus our clothes and sheets are loaded with microscopic dust mites.”

Harper raised her hands. “Too much information.”

“Sorry.” Peter ducked his head. “I get carried away.”

“Let’s keep the bug hunt outdoors.” Harper sighed. “If Mia thinks our house is full of bugs, she might have trouble sleeping.”

“Good point.” After a moment’s reflection, he asked, “When’s the party?”

“In two weeks,” Harper said.

“I could stop by and check your yard before then, if that would help.” His eyes shone at the prospect. “But I don’t want to impose.”

“Impose?” She’d welcome the assistance. “Anything you can do would be great. When’s a good time?”

“How about tomorrow afternoon?”

She hadn’t expected such a quick turnaround. “I promised my friend Stacy to go shopping for her wedding gown.” Although the event wasn’t until September, it could take a while to find the right dress. “How about next Saturday?”

“Two o’clock?”

“Great.” Had she really just invited Peter to her house? But they would have a chaperone. “Mia will be delighted to see you. Although she’s a little nervous around spiders.” As if I’m not.

“She’s a cutie.” Peter seemed to relax at the mention of her name. Apparently he hadn’t been trying to get Harper alone, not that she’d figured he was. “By the way, spiders aren’t insects.”

“What are they?”

“Arachnids.”

Harper made a mental connection, not to biology but to a mythology book she’d read to her daughter. “Like Arachne, the weaver.”

“Exactly. You’d make a good teacher.” Coming from Peter, that was high praise.

“Thanks.” As they arose and cleared their plates, Harper added, “I’ll text you my address. Although I guess you have that already, at camp.”

“I’m sure we do.” He kept his tone politely impersonal. “However, I don’t consult school records for my personal use. We should exchange numbers.”

“Good idea.” They clicked to the contacts section on their phones and input that information for each other.

Judging by his tone and body language, he intended to keep their relationship platonic. Despite a small, rebellious twinge of regret, that suited Harper fine.

* * *

AT HOME, PETER CLICKED open the egg donor website. There she was, the woman with whom he’d eaten lunch. Viewing Harper this way felt sneaky, but how could he tell her what he was considering?

Surely no etiquette book addressed the issue of what a man might discuss with a friend on the subject of choosing her as an egg donor. If he decided against it, she might feel rejected. If he chose her, well, what then?

He’d felt more comfortable talking with Harper today than he’d felt with any other woman since he lost Angela. There’d been none of the usual awkwardness when women flirted with him. Since he became a widower, several female acquaintances had invited Peter to dinner but he always made excuses. Others came right out and told him that, after more than a year, he ought to be dating again. They strongly implied that he should start with them.

While he appreciated the compliment, he didn’t like being pursued. When he and Angela met during their student teaching, they’d gravitated together instinctively.

Like Harper and me?

Peter did find her appealing. However, that might result partly from her resemblance to Angela. Plus, having acquaintances in common and a shared history helped the conversation flow.

Well, he’d volunteered to drop by her house next Saturday. With a little more contact, surely he’d be able to decide whether to select her as the mother of his children, or move on to another candidate.

Chapter Three

“Tell me again how blue his eyes are,” teased Stacy, fingering the lace on a tiered, strapless gown.

Embarrassed, Harper glanced around the bridal shop. Luckily, none of the other customers appeared to be paying attention. “I showed you his picture already!”

“And tell me how helpful he’s being about the party.”

“Change the subject.”

“Okay.” Stacy stretched. “It’s amazing how sore I am from walking around Disneyland. That was so much fun! Thanks for loaning us Mia.”

“I’m glad she didn’t drive you crazy.”

“Not at all.”

Yesterday’s outing, from which they’d returned about 10:30 p.m. after the fireworks, had left all parties exhausted. Today, even the usually meticulous Stacy had smudged her eyeliner and stuck a headband over her loose curls.

Harper had barely dragged Mia out of bed this morning in time for church. Afterward, she’d dropped off her daughter to spend the afternoon with Adrienne, who’d set up a pretend medical clinic for Mia’s and Reggie’s teddy bears. “Oh, darn!” Stacy made a face as another woman corralled the tiered gown. “I think that was the only one in my size.”

“You should have let the saleslady set it aside,” Harper said.

Stacy pretended to glare. “See how much sympathy you get from me when you’re shopping for your wedding to Mr. Blue Eyes.”

“Quit that.” Harper would have given her friend a light shove, had Stacy not been pregnant.

“Kidding aside, it’s the first time I’ve seen you like a guy since Sean.” Stacy lingered in front of a display of hats and veils. “Aren’t these cute?”

“Pick the dress first,” Harper advised.

“But someone might take the prettiest hat!”

“You’ll want a veil.”

“Why do you say that?” her friend demanded.

“Because you’re the veil type. Or the something-romantic type. Not hats.” Having shared an apartment with Stacy and been friends with her since junior high, Harper knew her taste ran to the ultrafeminine. “Trust me.”

“I do.” Stacy sighed. “Which is lucky, because Cole can’t help me choose a dress, or colors, or a cake. He’s a sweetheart but when it comes to girl stuff, he’s hopeless.”

“Your sister would be ideal.” During their teen years, Harper had seen how talented Ellie was at designing and sewing clothes. Now, married with four kids, Ellie lived in Salt Lake City and, with their mother, ran a boutique that sold stuffed animals in custom outfits. “Too bad she lives so far away.”

“She gets final approval over the bridesmaid dresses.” Stacy held up a sleek off-the-shoulder satin gown. “Along with you.”

“That makes sense.” Harper had been invited to be maid of honor, with Ellie as matron of honor. While unusual, the arrangement suited the small church setting and the fact that Cole, new to the area and with no close relatives, had only two groomsmen: his boss, the intimidating Dr. Owen Tartikoff, and Cole’s male nurse, Lucky Mendez.

“My feet hurt. I have to sit down.” As Stacy sank into a chair, the saleslady hurried over, asking if she was okay and offering tea, which they gratefully accepted.

“That’s another problem with choosing a gown,” Stacy murmured. “By September, I’ll be sticking out to here. Possibly out to there.” She indicated a point halfway across the room.

“We have designs with plenty of room,” the clerk assured them.

“For triplets?” Stacy asked.

After a blink of surprise, the saleslady said, “I’m sure we can accommodate you.”

Soon Harper and Stacy found themselves in a large dressing room with a selection of gowns, along with bridesmaid dresses in Harper’s size. Since Stacy hadn’t yet chosen her colors, the options were wide open.

“Pregnant brides must be fairly common,” Harper commented as she helped her friend into a dress with a forgiving waistline.