The Best Laid Plans (7 page)

I want a child.

He could still hear the longing in Alex’s voice. He glanced up at the pale morning sky.

So do I.

And that was what it came down to in the end.

It was possible he was in court, of course, or attending off-site meetings. But she saw him at the end of the corridor midafternoon and he caught her eye as he walked toward her. Adrenaline squeezed into her belly and her chin came up.

Be strong. Tell him to mind his own beeswax. No explanations or justifications.

She took a deep breath, ready to fire the opening salvo as he drew closer and closer. Then he nodded, murmured hello and passed her by.

She stared at the empty hallway for a full ten seconds after he’d gone before forcing her shoulders down from around her ears and returning to her office. She told herself he was biding his time, but by the end of the day he hadn’t so much as sent her an email or left a phone message.

Perhaps he’d reconsidered his interference after a good night’s sleep. Maybe, like her, he’d asked himself how her private life was any of his business.

She didn’t fully relax until another day had passed and he still hadn’t approached her. Apparently she was off the hook. She told herself she was relieved, that it was best for their friendship and their working relationship that he back off. And she
was
relieved—but she was also conscious of a sense of disappointment. Which was crazy. He’d barged his way into her business, forced his opinions and concerns down her throat, almost made her doubt herself… She should be grateful that he’d finally decided to leave her alone.

The truth was that she was embarking on a lonely journey. She’d be vetting fertility clinics on her own, selecting the donor on her own, waiting anxiously on her own. If she got pregnant, there would be no one to offer her crackers if she had morning sickness or rub her back or tell her to have an early night. And when the baby was born, she would be dealing with all the minor and major crises of raising a child on her own. Ethan’s interest and concern had been unwanted and frustrating and inappropriate, but it had also been sincere and real, born of friendship and genuine goodwill. There was something to be said for having someone looking out for you.

She reminded herself that she’d been alone the bulk of her adult life and much of her childhood. She’d never needed anyone to watch her back or catch her if she fell. Why should now be any different?

She spent the weekend going over her financial records. She had a couple of investment properties as well as the apartment, along with a healthy stock portfolio, and she sent an email to her financial advisor to make an appointment for the following week to discuss the best way to structure her affairs during her maternity leave.

Once she was satisfied she had a good handle on things, she sat down in her living room with a cup of strong black coffee and read over the donor profiles. Once she’d exhausted the ones she’d accidentally printed at work, she accessed more via the internet. By midday Sunday she was awash with the details of over forty men and was feeling more than a little overwhelmed. A little depressed, too. As lovely as some of the donors sounded—if she could trust the profiles—she’d always imagined her heart would choose the father of her child, not her head. But it wasn’t as though she had a choice, right?

She decided she needed a break. She turned off her computer, changed into her workout clothes and walked across busy Queens Road to Albert Park Lake. It was a clear, cold winter’s day and there were plenty of people walking their dogs or jogging along the track that circled the lake. She warmed up before running two laps, the cool air making her eyes sting. Then she spent twenty minutes stretching on the grass, easing the accumulated tension of the week from her hips and legs and back.

Her head was much clearer when she returned to the apartment and she reviewed the profiles again until she had a short list of three donors.

One was a firefighter in California, then there was a Ph.D. candidate and lastly an engineering student. On paper, they were all good options. Healthy, intelligent, kind. All of them claimed they were donating sperm because they had close friends or family members with fertility issues and they wanted to help others in similar circumstances. She chose to believe them, even though she knew that American donors were paid, while it was illegal in Australia for donors to receive anything except reimbursement for travel expenses. Given what she’d read about the sperm shortage from Australian men and the limited number of them who were prepared to donate to single women, she was almost certain she would end up using an American donor.

Short list in hand, she was ready to put her plan in motion.

“Alexandra.”

She glanced over her shoulder to see Ethan walking toward her, his chocolate-brown overcoat flaring behind him. Something fluttered in the pit of her stomach and she reminded herself that he’d had plenty of opportunity to corner her last week.

“Hey,” she said.

“I was going to drop by your office this morning,” he said as he fell into step beside her. “You got anything on for lunch today?”

“Lunch?” she asked, instantly wary.

“Yes, lunch. You know, sandwiches, sushi, soup. Other foodstuffs.”

She glanced at him. His hair looked very dark in the dim lighting.

“Is it only lunch?” she asked. “Or is there going to be a side order of your unsolicited opinion on the table?”

He held up a hand. “Don’t shoot, I come in peace.”

“Do you?”

“Alex… Can we just have lunch? My treat. And I promise not to give you any more grief.” He drew a cross over his heart.

Despite her wariness, it was hard not to be charmed by the childish gesture. It was one of the things she liked about him the most—despite the five-thousand-dollar suits and handmade Italian shoes and his undeniable good looks, he wasn’t afraid to be silly or humble or foolish.

“We can walk to Pellegrini’s,” he added. “Have some spaghetti Bolognese and garlic bread.”

“Right, and scare off our clients for the rest of the afternoon.”

He spread his hands wide. “Exactly. It’s a win-win.”

Her mouth curled at the corner and she made an effort to contain her smile. He really was a charming bastard when he put his mind to it—something he was no doubt well aware of.

She leveled a stern finger at him. “No lectures, no questions. We go, we eat, we bitch about Leo’s latest cost-cutting memo, we come back.”

“You’re the boss,” Ethan said.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to read him. What was this really about? Was it possible he was simply trying to restore their friendship to its usual level? Or was she setting herself up to be browbeaten again?

The sound of footsteps heralded the approach of one of the legal assistants. Ethan glanced over his shoulder, then back at her.

“I’ll swing by your office at twelve,” he said.

Then they were no longer alone and she was forced to swallow her uncertainty. She stood slightly behind him in the elevator as they traveled to the fifteenth floor, studying his profile covertly.

She wanted things to be okay between them. Their relationship might be only a work-based one, but she would miss the lunches and their racquetball games if this issue came between them.

She shook off her doubts as they left the elevator and went their separate ways. If he broke their agreement, she would leave the restaurant. It was that simple.

Despite being distracted, she managed to clear her desk by eleven and she told Fran to hold her calls for fifteen minutes while she “dealt with a few matters.” She shut the door and called the fertility clinic.

Ten minutes later she had an information package on its way to her in the mail and a list of tests she needed to discuss with her doctor. Once her health check was clear and she’d mapped her ovulation cycle, she could make her first appointment with the clinic.

She opened the calendar on her computer. A month, maybe two months from now she might be peeing on a stick and holding her breath for the outcome. It was almost surreal.

Her intercom buzzed.

“Alex, I’ve got senior counsel for Brackman-Lewis on the phone, Alistair Hanlon. You said if he called to put him through.”

“Sure. What line?”

“Three.”

Alex took the call. The next time she looked up it was nearly midday and Ethan was standing in her doorway.

“You ready to go?”

“Um, sure. Just give me a sec to grab my bag.”

She’d meant to check her hair and lipstick before he showed up, but he was going to have to take her the way he found her. Not that he’d probably notice.

“How was your morning?” he asked as they exited the foyer into busy Collins Street.

Her mind flashed to her phone call with the clinic. “Promising.”

“Wish I could say the same.”

They talked work for the whole of the brisk walk to Bourke Street where Pellegrini’s had been serving pasta to the working folk of Melbourne for over thirty years.

They both ordered a bowl of the restaurant’s famous spaghetti Bolognese and cafe lattes before taking stools at the aged Formica counter running along the wall while they waited for their meals.

“I meant to ask—are we still on for racquetball tomorrow night?”

Alex shot Ethan a look. She hadn’t thought about their regular game. Not in the context of canceling it, anyway. She’d simply assumed that they would play together, as usual. Which was probably a little naive, given what had happened last week.

“The court’s booked,” she said. “But if you’ve got other plans…?”

“No, I’m good. Gotta keep moving or I can say goodbye to my toes.” He patted his perfectly flat belly.

Normally if he made a comment like that she’d have felt honor bound to rag on him about his vanity, perhaps even crack a joke about how he couldn’t afford to put on weight given how much money he’d invested in his wardrobe.

Today she slid the napkin dispenser an inch to the left and tried not to look too relieved. She enjoyed their weekly games. Looked forward to them. Although she’d always been careful not to focus on her enjoyment too much—Ethan was a fellow partner, after all. But there was no denying that their hour of sweat and smart-assery had long been a highlight in her week.

Ethan shifted to one side as the waitress set down their coffees. It was only when he reached for a sugar packet and almost knocked his coffee over that she registered how tense he was. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes.

She wasn’t imagining it. The tendons in his neck were as taut as bowstrings and a muscle flickered in his jaw. Then Ethan reached for his coffee and she saw that there was a slight tremble in his hand.

It took her a moment to understand what she was seeing: Ethan was nervous. Really nervous, if that hand tremble was anything to go by.

She frowned. Why on earth would a man as inherently confident and cocky as Ethan Stone be nervous about having a bowl of pasta with her?

“What’s going on, Ethan?” she asked. “Are you okay?”

He looked at her, then he glanced at his coffee for a long beat. Finally he met her eyes again.

“Last week, you said you’d prefer for your child to have a relationship with his or her father if it was at all possible.”

Her stomach sank. He was going to lecture her again. Tell her she was wrong, that what she was planning was wrong. She’d really hoped that they could get past this, that he could accept her decision and they could remain friends. Hell, she’d even imagined that their friendship might deepen now that they had breached the invisible wall between their work and private lives.

But apparently Ethan wasn’t going to let this go. Which meant she was going to have to leave. Then she was going to have to cancel their racquetball game and let their friendship fade to polite nods in the hall and the occasional discussion about the weather when they crossed paths in the kitchenette.

“We had an agreement. No more lectures.” She pushed her coffee away and started to slide off her stool.

Ethan’s hand curled around her forearm.

“Give me five minutes. I promise it’s not a lecture,” he said.

His hand felt very warm where it gripped her arm.

“What is it, then?” she asked.

Ethan’s gaze searched her face. “I’ve been thinking about what you said last week. About always wanting to be a parent. About not wanting to miss out.”

She frowned, trying to understand where this was going.

“I don’t know if I ever told you, but I was married once. Cassie and I divorced five years ago. When we got married, we planned on having at least three kids. But it never happened.”

If he was about to tell her that he’d resigned himself to missing out and that she should, too, she was going to dump her coffee over his head.

Ethan swallowed nervously. “I guess what I’m trying to ask in the least eloquent possible way is how would you feel about me offering to be your sperm donor?”

Alex stilled. For a moment the world seemed to go quiet. Or perhaps she was simply so stunned she’d blocked out everything except for him and her.

“I’m…sorry?”

“I’d like you to consider me as a potential father for your child,” he said. “You should know up front that I’d want to be actively involved in his or her life. I’d want visitation rights and equal say on important issues like education and health. I’d expect to contribute financially. I’d want it to be a real partnership.”

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a folded sheaf of papers. “I’ve had a complete medical checkup. My doctor says there are no issues there.” He slid the folded sheets toward her.

Alex looked from him to the papers then back. She shook her head, utterly blindsided.

Ethan frowned. “Is that a no? You don’t even want to discuss it?”

The intense disappointment in his face was enough to spur her past her shock.

“Ethan. This is—this is not what I was expecting,” she said.

Understatement of the year.

“Right. Well, I’ve been thinking about it since last week but I didn’t want to say anything until I had the go-ahead from my doctor.” He gestured toward the printout. “I had my sperm tested, as well. Apparently it’s good to go. Strong motility, the report said. Good count. It’s all in there.”

He shifted uncomfortably on his stool and she realized he was blushing. Would there be no end to today’s revelations regarding Ethan Stone? If anyone had told her a week ago he was capable of blushing, she would have laughed in their face. As for him wanting to be a parent…

“I don’t know what to say,” she said. “I mean, obviously actually knowing the father of my child would be a huge bonus. Ideal, really. But I never even considered… I had no idea you were interested in children. Or that you’d want…” She lifted her hands in the air to indicate how helpless and blown away she felt.

At that moment she registered that the waitress hovered behind them impatiently, two plates of pasta in hand. They both leaned to the side to allow her to slide them onto the counter, then they were alone again.

Ethan shot her a rueful look. “Not the best venue. Sorry. I wasn’t really thinking….”

She shook her head to indicate she wasn’t worried about where he’d chosen to make his proposal. She was too busy trying to work out how she felt about what Ethan had suggested.

Shocked, obviously. She’d never had any inkling that he was interested in parenthood. Even if she’d considered approaching a friend for sperm—and she hadn’t—he wouldn’t have been on her list. Not in a million years. He was the office hottie. She simply couldn’t picture him with baby puke on his shirt and bags under his eyes from sleepless nights.

Also, they didn’t have that kind of relationship. She’d never let her imagination stray outside of the parameters of business. The moment he’d joined the firm she’d privately acknowledged that he was a very attractive, very dynamic man—and that only a very foolish woman would allow herself to fall under his spell. She valued her career far too much to jeopardize it for something as ephemeral as lust.

But now he was offering to become a whole lot more. He was offering to merge his DNA with hers to create a child that would bind them inextricably forever.

Not exactly small potatoes. Definitely not something she could get her head around in the matter of a few minutes. There were so many things to consider. So many potential problems—

“What if you meet someone and fall madly in love? You’re going to want to have children with her and then you’ll look back at this and wish you’d waited.”

“It’s never going to happen, Alex.”

“You sound pretty sure about that.”

Ethan hesitated a moment, then nodded toward her food. “We should eat before this gets cold.”

She frowned.

“Eat
and
talk,” he said with a slight smile.

He led by example, twirling strands of spaghetti around his fork. She followed suit.

Ethan waited until he’d swallowed before talking again. “I was married for eight years, Alex. I won’t go into the details because there’s no point, but I don’t ever want to go there again.”

“Not every marriage ends in divorce.”

“Enough do. I’m not prepared to play the odds. The stakes are way too high.”

His gaze was direct. She had no doubt that he utterly believed what he was saying. And yet…

“You say that, but what if you fall in love?” she asked quietly. “It happens every day, after all. Whether people plan it or not.”

He smiled cynically. “It’s been five years and I’ve never even come close. And, frankly, I’m not interested in the high drama and the headaches. Life is much simpler without all the bullshit.”