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Who Will Father My Baby?
“I want a baby, Dane.”
Clearly, he tried to control his reaction. But Lacy saw his spine stiffen, his eyes widen the merest fraction. He looked as though he were about to speak. But in the end he didn’t.
“It’s an overwhelming idea, I know.”
“Overwhelming.” His gray eyes were clouded with a myriad of thoughts and emotions. “Lacy, let me get this straight. You’re asking me—”
“To father my child.”
“Why me?”
“Because you’re—”
Perfect, she’d nearly said.
“Right.” She left it at that, then whispered, “You’re also my last chance.”
Dear Reader,
You asked for more ROYALLY WED titles and you’ve got them! For the next four months we’ve brought back the Stanbury family—first introduced in a short story by Carla Cassidy on our eHarlequin.com Web site. Be sure to check the archives to find Nicholas’s story! But don’t forget to pick up Stella Bagwell’s The Expectant Princess and discover the involving story of the disappearance of King Michael.
Other treats this month include Marie Ferrarella’s one hundredth title for Silhouette Books! This wonderful, charming and emotional writer shows her trademark warmth and humor in Rough Around the Edges. Luckily for all her devoted readers, Marie has at least another hundred plots bubbling in her imagination, and we’ll be seeing more from her in many of our Silhouette lines.
Then we’ve got Karen Rose Smith’s Tall, Dark & True about a strong, silent sheriff who can’t bear to keep quiet about his feelings any longer. And Donna Clayton’s heroine asks Who Will Father My Baby?—and gets a surprising answer. No Place Like Home by Robin Nicholas is a delightful read that reminds us of an all-time favorite movie—I’ll let you guess which one! And don’t forget first-time author Roxann Delaney’s debut title, Rachel’s Rescuer.
Next month be sure to return for The Blacksheep Prince’s Bride by Martha Shields, the next of the ROYALLY WED series. Also returning are popular authors Judy Christenberry and Elizabeth August.
Happy reading!
Mary-Theresa Hussey
Senior Editor
Who Will Father My Baby?
Donna Clayton
Books by Donna Clayton
Silhouette Romance
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Nanny and the Professor #1066
Fortune’s Bride #1118
Daddy Down the Aisle #1162
*Miss Maxwell Becomes a Mom #1211
*Nanny in the Nick of Time #1217
*Beauty and the Bachelor Dad #1223
†The Stand-By Significant Other #1284
†Who’s the Father of Jenny’s Baby? #1302
The Boss and the Beauty #1342
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Her Dream Come True #1399
Adopted Dad #1417
His Wild Young Bride #1441
**The Nanny Proposal #1477
**The Doctor’s Medicine Woman #1483
**Rachel and the M.D. #1489
Who Will Father My Baby? #1507
DONNA CLAYTON
is the recipient of the Diamond Author Award for Literary Achievement 2000, as well as two Holt Medallions. As a child, she marveled at the ability to travel the world, experience swashbuckling adventures and meet amazingly bold and daring people without ever leaving the shade of the huge oak in her backyard. In her opinion, love is what makes the world go ’round.
One of her favorite pastimes is traveling. Her other interests include walking, reading, visiting with friends, teaching Sunday school, cooking and baking, and she still collects cookbooks, too. In fact, her house is overrun with them.
Please write to Donna care of Silhouette Books.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Prologue
“What is it with men and their sperm?” Lacy Rivers sorted through the mail, but she was so distracted that she was going through the morning ritual purely by rote. “Suggest a night of frivolous fun and a man will jump your bones without a second thought. But you just mention the word baby and he acts as if his bodily fluids are more precious than pure gold.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Lacy saw Sharon, her friend and administrative assistant, grimace.
“Sorry,” Lacy muttered, realizing the statement was unusually raw even by her own standards. “Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” She knew her brash, “tell it like it is” opinions often did just that to the people around her no matter how well they got to know her. However, Lacy couldn’t help but softly add, “But it is the truth, darn it.”
Always quick to recover from her reactions to her boss’s outspokenness, Sharon grinned. “With all your big talk, a person would think you’ve had your bones jumped quite frequently.” One of her delicate eyebrows arched. “But you and I both know that the exact opposite is the truth.”
“Shh.” Lacy lifted her index finger to her lips. “Don’t go spreading gossip that I’m a good girl. Not when I’m trying to get a man—any man—to father my baby.”
The two women shared soft laughter, but if the truth were to be known, Lacy didn’t feel the least bit amused by her circumstance.
Frustration. That’s what had her feeling so out of sorts this morning. Disappointment fairly pulsed through her veins. The magnitude of it almost—almost—overshadowed the ever-present echo that haunted her…the bone-deep ache that called out from her very soul.
Lacy wanted a baby. She needed to have a child of her own. And she knew that, at thirty-eight, her time was quickly running out. The tick, tick, tick of her biological clock seemed to grow louder with each passing day.
“I guess this gray cloud hanging over you this morning—” as Sharon spoke, she went to the oak credenza and began organizing the contracts that Lacy had piled there to be filed “—means your meeting with Mr. Fitzgerald didn’t go well last night.”
A disgusted sound erupted from Lacy, and the mail she tossed on the desk went skittering and sliding across the wide glass top. “The man acted as if I was asking for his right arm.” She ran agitated fingers though her short locks. “I offered him an iron-clad guarantee in the form of a legal contract stating that I would never ask him for monetary support. I have more than enough to give my child everything he or she might need.”
Sharon cocked her head to one side. “You’re a fantastic businesswoman. That’s why Lacy Webs is so successful. Before you agree to create an Internet site for a customer, you make sure everything is signed and sealed.” The woman’s fist found her hip as she quietly pointed out, “But you can’t contract matters of the heart.”
“This isn’t a matter of the heart,” Lacy said. Unable to repress a sudden bout of humor, she chuckled as she quipped, “It’s a matter of the loins.”
“You’re impossible.” Sharon laughed, shaking her head as she returned to the filing.
Lacy sat pondering. She’d conducted her father-of-her-baby search just as she did her successful business: in a logical and rational manner. She’d developed a list of candidates, and approached each one with the common-sense plan she’d developed. But if Lacy had learned anything over the past months it was that, when it came to donating their sperm, men were neither logical nor rational.
Of course, more than one person had suggested she visit a sperm bank, but she simply couldn’t see herself doing that. The mere idea seemed so cold. Not to mention the horror stories she’d read in the national news of women who had mistakenly been impregnated with the wrong sperm. No, thank you.
“Maybe you should think about getting remarried,” Sharon suggested out of the blue. “Husbands are much more receptive to fatherhood than single guys, you know.”
“I’ve tried happily-ever-after. I’m hopeless at relationships.” The admission, and the defeated feeling it dragged along with it, had Lacy’s voice rushing out in a husky whisper.
Poor Richard. The man—or their two-year marriage—hadn’t stood a chance from the start. Not when Lacy silently-yet-constantly compared her husband to the most perfect man in the whole wide world…
Dane Buchanan.
Now, there was a man. Intelligent. Witty. Interesting. Athletic. Compassionate. Utterly fascinating. And more handsome than words could describe.
Lacy did her best to quell the euphoric shiver that washed over her when she remembered the chemistry she and Dane had shared all those years ago when she had been a freshman, he a senior, in college.
Certainly, if Dane knew about this cavernous ache tormenting her…if he was aware of this mothering instinct that relentlessly squeezed at her heart like a ruthless vise…he would understand. He would empathize. He would help.
Closing her eyes, she easily recalled the overwhelming electricity that coursed through her when Dane had touched her. When he’d kissed her. Even now as she sat at her desk, mere thoughts of the man made her skin prickle with awareness, made her heart thrum a staccato beat.
Thoughts of her perfect man had floated through her head often over the years. But lately, she’d found herself thinking of him during the day—and dreaming of him at night. Those night visions were becoming more and more sensual, more and more erotic each time she closed her—
The clunk of the file drawer closing startled her from her extremely corporeal musings.
“Don’t worry,” Sharon said, her hand on the doorknob as she prepared to leave Lacy’s office. “There’s a man out there just waiting to help you…a man who’s perfect for your needs.” The administrative assistant closed the door behind her as she left the room.
Lacy’s lips parted in surprise, her eyes wide and staring. She was struck by the coincidence of Sharon’s “perfect man” words aligning so completely with her own thoughts.
Coincidence? She blinked once, twice. That was no coincidence. It was a sign. A signal from fate. Hadn’t she just had the thought that Dane would help her if only he’d known of her plight?
Why, for weeks now, her own subconscious mind had been sending her blatant hints in the form of frequent thoughts and lustful dreams of the man. Why hadn’t she realized? Why hadn’t she grasped the meaning of it all?
Immediately, Lacy turned to her computer, maneuvered the mouse and clicked the proper links that would log her onto the Internet. There had to be a way to find Dane Buchanan. There just had to be.
Hope sprang to life in her…a kind of joyous optimism, a gleeful anticipation that she hadn’t felt in months.
Chapter One
An hour of torturous city traffic. Lacy groaned as she automatically reached to turn up the fan on her car’s air conditioner. August was a killer month in Virginia. It wasn’t actually the heat that made a person wilt like a cut flower, but the humidity.
She should have known not to rush out of town on a Friday afternoon. She should have waited until tomorrow morning when all the city employees were sleeping in and the roadways were clear. But she’d been too excited to wait a single minute longer to start her trip.
A mere two days had passed since she had pieced together her frequent thoughts of Dane Buchanan with her desire to have a child. In that time, she was able to find some sketchy information and a home address. But it had been enough to stir her excitement and get her on the road.
It was hard for her to imagine that her encounter with Dane had taken place nearly twenty years ago.
Encounter? A tiny voice in her mind questioned. It had been a date. A real, honest-to-goodness date complete with an end-of-the-evening kiss. A kiss, Lacy remembered, that had almost singed the wooden soles of the clogs she’d been wearing at the time.
Yes, but the facts of what had followed their one enchanted evening together were disillusioning. Dane had never called her. Never asked her out again, even though she’d blatantly suggested it. And when she had seen him on campus, usually in the library, she’d been the one who had made verbal contact. If she hadn’t approached him, he’d have been content with a nodded exchange of greeting. Finally, she’d had to face reality. Dane Buchanan hadn’t been interested in her in the least.
But that kiss…
How could he not have been as affected by it as she had been?
She sighed and gazed over at the map unfolded on the seat beside her. She still had a lengthy drive ahead of her.
To have discovered that he was still in the state had been a surprise. Lacy had explained to Sharon that Dane had the kind of intelligence that would have made him a hot commodity to businesses worldwide. If she remembered correctly, his major had been in one of the sciences. It would be easy to imagine him scouring the rain forests of the Amazon, hunting a cure for cancer. Or nestled away in a laboratory, inventing a new and phenomenal synthetic drug to be used as therapy for Alzheimer’s patients.
Stories about him had raged through the students like a fire gone wild all those years ago. Lacy had been terribly curious. She’d been bold, too, even as a freshman. Her brassy confidence had her asking the senior out for coffee…an offer he’d surprisingly accepted. For hours they had talked while their coffee had grown granite cold.
Dane Buchanan, she’d learned after playing a tough game of twenty questions with the young man, had earned an academic scholarship to an Ivy League university. However, he’d chosen to attend a local college in Richmond in order to be near his ailing father. That information alone had been enough to melt Lacy’s heart. He was president of the senior class, led the debate team to victory and was voted MVP of the football team. His dark good looks as well as his prowess on the football field led to his being approached by a New York modeling agency, and Lacy hadn’t blinked an eye when he’d told her he’d turned down their offer for work. He simply hadn’t seemed the type to flash his smile in front of a camera for money. Lacy smiled at the memory, his obvious embarrassment over the solicitation had been quite charming.
In that one short evening she’d spent with Dane in the café, she’d come to the conclusion that it would be easy for a girl to lose her heart to such a guy. He was everything a girl could want. He had brains. A ton of compassion. He was handsome as the devil. And when they had kissed good-night, Lacy had thought her toes were going to curl up into the arches of her feet!
Soon after that kiss, he’d mysteriously disappeared from the campus for nearly two weeks. And when he’d returned, it was as if their kiss had never happened.
Yes, he spent time with her in the library. On several occasions. He was always friendly, but at the same time, he never initiated contact, no matter how transparent she had made her own desire to date him.
Then a weekly newsmagazine had picked up Dane’s all-around success story. The journalist had dubbed him the Perfect Man, and Lacy had had to agree. She’d considered asking him out on another date, but before she could, final exams were upon her and she never found the opportunity. He graduated. Left the school. And she never saw him again. End of story.
Surely he was married, Sharon had warned Lacy. And she’d had to agree. He probably was. And his wife was certain to have been a Miss America contestant who had given birth to a brood of beautiful children.
Still, something inside Lacy had her braving Friday-evening rush hour in order to drive into rural Virginia to see the man. Maybe—just maybe—Dane Buchanan would live up to his Perfect Man title and become the perfect father. For her child.
“Let’s go into town for dinner tonight.”
Dane Buchanan glanced at the slate-gray sky and then leveled his gaze onto his father-in-law’s whiskered face. “Looks like rain, Alva. Weatherman’s calling for a downpour. You know how that creek is. We should be here to check the herd. Besides, I’ve got two steaks thawed in the fridge for us.”
“Aw, we have steak every Friday,” the older man complained as he latched the door of the barn. “A little rain never hurt nobody. Let’s chance it. Live a little. Couldn’t you go for a plate full of Lottie’s cheesy lasagna? I feel like some Italian food tonight.”
Dane dipped his head, suppressing a smile. He loved the way Alva said that word…with a long I, like in idea. The whole population of Italy would probably have taken offense. But of course Alva meant none. He was simply a good-hearted southern boy who spoke just like everyone else below the Mason-Dixon Line.
He suspected Alva’s hankering for pasta had less to do with lasagna and more to do with his wanting Dane and Lottie to have a chance to “keep company.” His father-in-law would probably be surprised to discover that Dane had figured out his plan, but Alva had been trying to fix him up for the past year. Before Lottie, it had been Cindy at the post office. And before Cindy, it had been Lorraine, the organist at the local Methodist church. It was clearly Alva’s opinion that Dane had been a widower long enough.
It was peculiar, Dane thought, that the father of the woman he’d married, the woman who had died so tragically because of his stupidity, would be doing everything possible to nudge other females into his path.
“Oregano upsets my stomach,” Dane told Alva. “Upsets yours, too. And Lottie uses the herb rather liberally in her cooking. You know that.”
“We could ask her to fry us some hamburgers. I’m sure she would.” He nudged Dane with his elbow. “I think she’s kinda sweet on you.”
Dane just shook his head. “Steak and a baked potato will do me just fine. And I’ve got chocolate pudding for dessert.” He pushed himself away from the fence and stretched the kinks out of his back, knowing full well his father-in-law would never be able to resist his favorite sweet. “But you go on into town, if you want.”
“Nah, that’s okay,” Alva yielded. “Steak sounds good.” His grin made his mouth go crooked, his eyes glisten. “I didn’t know you made pudding. I’ll just run on home and grab a shower. I’ll be at your place in thirty minutes, so go ahead and fire up that grill.”
Both men turned at the sound of tires crunching on gravel.
“Didn’t know you were expecting company.”
The candy-apple-red sports car had Dane’s eyebrows drawing together with curiosity. “I’m not. You?”
The short exchange was silly, really. The men worked side by side every day. They had no secrets. If Alva was going to entertain a visitor, Dane would have known about it and vice versa.
The car came to a halt in front of Dane’s brick rancher, about a hundred feet from where the men stood outside the door of the utility shed. A woman emerged from the automobile and made straight for the house, the sun haloing her short, flaxen hair.
“Woo-whee!”
Alva whispered under his breath, although at this distance there was no chance the woman could have heard him.
“Cute little thing, ain’t she?”
Cute was an accurate description. But little? Dane nearly chuckled. Her body was as curvaceous as a country road, seeming to invite a man to meander along the soft hills and valleys. And she was tall. With yards of tanned, shapely legs that tapered into sexy ankles.
Suddenly the August air became so hot he thought it just might scorch his lungs…if he could remember to pull a lungful of the stuff into his chest, that was.
“I’ll take your stunned silence as a yes.”
Alva laughed softly and gave Dane another poke with his elbow, breaking what could only have been described as some kind of strange, mesmerizing spell.
“She’s most likely selling something,” he grumbled. Dane did his best to hide the embarrassment he was feeling at being the butt of Alva’s humor. “Probably wants me to buy a set of encyclopedias, or some magazine subscriptions, or life insurance.”
“Well, boy,” Alva advised, “you’d best go take care of the matter. I’m off to find a cool shower and some clean clothes.”
His father-in-law’s comment made Dane suddenly aware of the dirt on his jeans, the dust coating his hot skin. Why something so trivial should rear up to bother him now seemed unfathomable. He’d worked hard today. Just as he did every day. Sweat and grime came with the territory of running a cattle business. There wasn’t much a man could do about that.
The woman was on his porch now, her hand raising to knock on the front door. Dane took a step toward the house.
“I’ll see you in a…” His words petered out when he saw that Alva had already disappeared around the shed to take the path that led to his cedar-shingled bungalow just over the rise.
Long strides had him across the grassy patch standing between him and the front porch in no time flat. Shifting his hat back from his forehead a fraction, he called, “Can I help you?”
She spun on the narrow heel of her skimpy little sandal. “Hi,” she said.
Her smile flashed bright as the summer sun, a direct contradiction to the steely clouds gathering overhead. Dane was struck with the oddest notion that he knew this woman.
“I’m looking for…”
The rest of her sentence trailed as she took a step toward him, recognition seeming to light her big blue eyes.
“Dane? Dane Buchanan?”
His heart jackhammered, and he wanted nothing more than to blame the long hours of hard work, or the heat from the summer day, but he’d be lying to himself if he did.
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
Her voice had a lilting quality that started his memories churning—magnificent memories that he’d locked away in a vault years ago.
The pale pink lacquer on her long nails stood out against the royal blue of her blouse when her palm spread-eagled against her chest. “It’s me. Lacy.”
Lacy Rivers. His mouth seemed to draw into a smile of its own volition.
The years had changed her. She had filled out in all the right places. Cut off that glorious hair of hers. She looked polished. Businesslike. With a sexy edge that would drive a man wild. Much more sophisticated than the brash young woman in his memory.
The brash, fresh-as-a-spring-breeze girl who had nearly unraveled his well-laid plans all those years ago.
The thought thundered through his brain, crushing the warm, fuzzy memories, shocking the smile right off his lips.
“Lacy Rivers,” she continued. “Please don’t say you’ve completely forgotten me.”
He took the steps slowly, doing what he could to gather his wits as he went.
All he was able to say was, “How could I forget?” He took off his hat with one hand and reached the other out to her. She took it in both of hers, and he couldn’t decide if the sweat that prickled his forehead was from the oppressive heat and humidity…or the searing intensity of her skin against his.
Dane hoped like hell it was due to the soaring temperatures.
Her nails lightly grazed the outside of his wrist and the inside of his callused palm at the same time, and something deep inside him had him wondering how the hard length of them would feel on other parts of his body; his bare back, shoulders, arms and neck.
