The Stud (3 page)

"Are we talking stellar genes here?"

"Stellar?" She averted her eyes from his. "I suppose. I'd be a fool not to be talking that. What woman wouldn't want the father of her child to be brilliant and handsome and healthy and tall and athletic—"

"I get the point, " Spencer cut in dryly.

"Mmm. " She took a breath and regrouped. Looking over the sound, which was more soothing than meeting Spencer's probing eyes, she said, "I want the best for my baby. Kids nowadays have enough to face without having to worry about inborn deficiencies. I've looked into using a sperm bank. "

"A sperm bank. "

She kept her gaze on the water. "In theory, I could find a donor with all or most of the traits I want for my child. "

"A sperm bank, " Spencer repeated in a drone that brought her head around.

"I know you think the idea is ludicrous. Caroline said you might, but the fact is that it's done all the time. There's an increasing number of women in my position, wanting babies but for one reason or another not having a father for the child. That's one of the purposes of sperm banks. That's why artificial insemination has evolved into a science from an art. "

He looked as though he wanted to laugh but was controlling the urge. "Artificial insemination is fine. So are sperm banks, but I still can't imagine why you'd want to use either. Come to think of it, I can't imagine why you weren't married years ago. You're pretty and smart and rich. "

"Right, " she drawled, "I'm rich, which means that some men would marry me just for that. I've had men tell me they loved me, when what they really meant was that they loved what I owned. "

"They don't all mean that. Some of them must be sincere. You're a nice person, Jenna. You're easy on the eyes and on the mind. If I stayed put long enough, I could fall in love with you myself. "

She took his comment lightly, as it had been offered. "But you won't stay put long enough, which is why you're just right. "

His face went blank. For an instant, the only sounds were the water on the rocks, the bell buoy's jingle and the cry of a gull. Then he said, "Back up. You lost me. "

Embarrassed that she had let the punch line slip before she should have, Jenna complained, "That's because you keep interrupting me. Will you let me take this step by step, Spencer? Let me say my
thing?"

"Okay. " He straightened. "Say your thing. " He seemed suddenly so much taller sitting beside her, that she felt foolish and insecure and presumptuous. She was
sure
Spencer wouldn't do what she wanted. He had his own life. If he wanted to father a child, he would have already found a way to do it He was resourceful.

Resourcefulness. Another trait she admired. Another trait she would wish for in a child of hers.

Taking courage from that thought, she went on. "I'm perfectly comfortable with the idea of artificial insemination. Some woman inseminate themselves—"

"How?"

"With a syringe. Please let me go on?"

"Go on. "

"I've decided to work with a doctor because the chances of success are greater. The problem is that I'm not comfortable with the idea of going to a sperm bank. I don't trust numbers on lists, and I don't care how many safeguards there are, I'd still worry that I'd get the wrong donor. Either that, or that the donor would have lied and wouldn't have half the qualities he claimed. "

"Are you looking for an Einstein?"

"Spencer, please. "

"Sorry. Go on. "

"I'm looking for the best I can get, but there are some things a sperm bank won't tell you. They'll screen for sexually transmitted diseases, but they have no way of knowing whether one is contracted between the time of screening and the donation. They'll screen for physical traits and genetic abnormalities, but not personality traits. They won't tell you what the donor's parents or grandparents or siblings are like, and I think that's important information. Besides, sperm is usually frozen for storage in a bank, but a certain percentage of it is lost in the process. For that reason, fresh sperm is better. "

Spencer was studying her in a way that would have made her squirm if she hadn't been determined to look confident. She had a feeling he sensed where she was leading. He was quick—another thing she liked about him. So she hurried on.

"I want artificial insemination, but I don't want to go to a sperm bank. The only option that's left is to find someone I know to donate his sperm, but most of the men I know are totally unsuited to the cause. Some of them would want to get married, and I don't want to do that. Some of them would want to take part in the raising of the child, and I don't want that, either. Some of them would sue for visitation rights, but when I think of my child going off with strange grandparents, I shudder. I can't think of any man around here whose family I respect enough to feel comfortable with that. Except you. "

Spencer stared at her. After a minute, he said, "Go on. "

"I want your sperm. "

He stared harder. "You're kidding. "

She shook her head. "I'm dead serious, " she said with a fragment of breath. She was holding the rest, waiting for his full reaction.

"You want my sperm. " It was more an echo than a question. She was sure she heard disbelief, which was better than dismay or revulsion. "How, uh, did you plan on obtaining my sperm?"

More than any other part of her speech, she had thought this part out the most carefully. She didn't want to offend a man who was as blatantly virile as Spencer Smith. Sounding as clinical as possible, she said, "My doctor has a standard procedure for this. I'd be tracking my basal body temperature to determine the exact time of ovulation. When that time comes, you'd go to his office, be given a clean container and the privacy of your own room. When you were done, you'd give him the sample and leave. "

"I'd—" He made a gesture with his hand that was simultaneously obscene and accurate.

She refused to blush. "That's right. "

His expression darkened. "I'd go into my own little room, lock my own little door, dream my own little dream and—"

"It wouldn't be so bad, Spencer. "

"It'd be awful!"

"Men give sperm samples all the time. Remember
The Right Stuff?"

"This isn't the movies. It's real life. "

"And it's done all the time in real life. Sperm donors do it. So do men who are having fertility tests. "

"So do perverts and gays and guys who can't find a woman, but I don't fit into any of those slots. " He paused. When he turned his blue eyes on her this time, she felt the current down to her toes. "Why me, Jenna?"

She took a steadying breath. This was the easy part, and not only because he had to like what she said. But she believed every word, which meant that she could put her heart and soul into the argument. Turning sideways on the dock to face him more fully, she said, "Because you're right physically. You're tall and good-looking. You're intelligent and coordinated and healthy. You have all the traits I'd look for in a donor from a sperm bank, only with you I'd know the unknowns, too. I know your parents and love them. I know your sister and love her. I know that there aren't any genetic defects running through your family. I know that you have a temper but that you're perfectly sane and reasonable, and even if I don't agree with the way you deal with your parents, I admire your determination and consistency, and when it comes to a sense of adventure, you have it over everyone else hands down—" She stopped only because she'd run out of breath. As soon as she filled her lungs again, she rushed on.

"Don't you see, Spencer? Everything else is right, too. I don't want a husband—you don't want to get married. I don't want a man around—and you're never here. You don't want to play father—and I don't want to share my child. We're
both
rich, so neither of us would take advantage of the other. Think about it. This could solve your problem, too. "

"What problem?"

"Your parents. They're dying for another grandchild, a child of yours this time. " She knew the elder Smiths well. "Don't tell me they didn't mention it in the short time you've spent with them today. " The look on his face was as good as a confession. She pressed her advantage. "They drive you
nuts
pushing for marriage and kids, but you don't want either. You don't want to be tied down. This way you could have your cake and eat it, too. You could have the child, which would please your parents and get them off your back, and you wouldn't have to give up a drop of your freedom. "

Spencer stared at her for another minute before pushing a hand through his hair. A moment later, the wind mussed it again. A moment after that, he got to his feet.

"Where are you going?" she cried. There was more she wanted to say. She scrambled to her feet. "I have to move. "

Determinedly she moved right along with him. "You haven't said no. Are you considering it?"

"I'm trying to decide whether I should. " He strode back along the dock with a loafer in each hand. "It's bizarre, what you're asking. "

"Not bizarre. Just unusual. "

"There's many a man who'd think you were crazy. "

"But you don't, because you know me—" she launched into the next part or her argument "—and that's a plus for you. Yes, I know that you don't want to have a child, and yes, I know that if you did, you'd be perfectly capable of choosing its mother yourself, but I'd be a better mother than most, Spencer. You wouldn't go wrong from the physical standpoint I have good hair, good skin, a good build. "

"You're too short. "

"Five-four isn't too short. "

"It's nearly a full foot shorter than me. "

"But a nice height for a woman. Would it bother you to have a daughter who's petite?"

"What about a son who's petite?" he tossed off as he left the dock for the beach.

"A son would inherit your height. " She trotted a little to keep up, but she was hampered by the sharpness of the pebbles. "The only reason my height would be a problem was if we were actually lovers, but we're not. Everything would be done in the doctor's office. " She hobbled over a particularly prickly stretch, then hurried to catch up. "I have no physical deformities, nor do my ancestors for three generations back. If my parents' plane hadn't crashed, they would have lived into their eighties as their parents did before them. " He was lengthening the distance between them. She raised her voice to be heard. "I have perfect eyesight perfect hearing, I can carry a tune and I played volleyball and tennis in high school. "

"I saw you Charleston, " Spencer called back.

She trotted two steps and limped on the third. "That's what I'm trying to tell you! I'm athletic!"

"So why can't you keep up with me now?"

Stopping dead in her tracks, she shouted, "Because I may be athletic, but the soles of my feet aren't made of leather! I haven't trained walking over beds of nails like you have! You have my
shoes,
Spencer!"

With little more than the toss of his dark head, he yelled, "Good! Then you won't go far until I get back!"

Jenna looked after him in exasperation, but that gave way to admiration as she watched him stride on. He was a striking figure. His limbs were long, lean but strong, and he moved with masculine grace and fluidity. She saw him stop and face the water. He lowered his head in thought. He glanced back at her.

For the longest time, she held his gaze, feeling its force even across dozens of yards of shoreline. Then, needing a respite, she retreated to the boardwalk to wait. He joined her there several minutes later, but before he could say a word, she resumed her argument. Though her voice was quieter, it held no less conviction.

"There are other reasons why, if you had to have a child, I'd be a perfect mother for it. I'm smart— between you and me, the child wouldn't lack for brains. I'm patient, compassionate and even-tempered. "

"You're also the head of a demanding corporation. How in the hell are you going to mother a child with all that work? Are you going to leave the poor kid with a nanny all day?"

Jenna was offended and let it show. "Not on your life. I'm not having a baby just to add it to my resume. I'm having it because I want to mother it, and I can afford to do that precisely because I
am
the head of a demanding corporation. I have a support staff that's capable of handling the day-to-day running of things, and I already have an office set up at home with phones and a fax. If I want to work, I can do it while the baby naps, and if I don't want to work, I don't have to. For that matter, if I feel like setting up a crib at McCue's, I will. I'm the boss—I can do what I want. I don't plan to hire a nanny at all, because I won't be needing one. I'll hire sitters sometimes, because there may be important meetings I'll want to attend and also because I think it's healthy for me
and
the baby. But I'll be its primary caretaker. Me, and no one else. "

Fixing her eyes on his, she offered what she felt was her most powerful point. "I'll make a great mother because I want this baby so much. I'm not a teenager riding on a whim. I'm a mature woman who has thought out every angle. I can afford to have this baby. I can afford to give it every advantage in the world. And I can handle single parenthood. It may not be easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is. The important thing is that I
want this baby. "

He nudged her shoulder to get her moving back in the direction of the steps to the lawn, but the pace he set was a comfortable one. Jenna dared to hope that he was beginning to see the merits of the plan.

"I take it you discussed this with Caroline. "

"I have no family, and she's my closest friend, " Jenna said. "She's known for years that I wanted a baby. When I first started considering artificial insemination, I discussed it with her. Then, when it occurred to me that you would be an ideal donor, I bounced the idea off her. She agrees that it's good. "

"She would. Do my parents know anything about it?"

"Oh, no. I won't say anything to them. It's not their decision to make. It's yours and mine. " She looked up at him. His profile was strong, made more so by his brooding expression. "My arguments are good, Spencer. You know they are. "