Prodigal Son (19 page)

He smiled a little grimly. Alex would probably wet herself laughing if he told her that. She’d think he was being ironic or making fun of her. She didn’t know about his marriage. She only knew him as a guy in a slick suit with a fast car and a reputation for churning through women.

But then he didn’t know much about her, either, did he?

If anyone had told him that formidable, sharp, street-smart Alex Knight was even capable of breaking down the way she had tonight he’d have laughed. As for the surprising revelation that she wanted a child… He’d always thought of her as the consummate career lawyer, a woman who’d dedicated herself to the job and moving up the ladder.

Yet she’d cried tonight as though her heart was breaking because she was afraid that she’d missed the opportunity to have a family of her own. Again he felt the echo of old grief as he remembered the way she’d curled into herself, her shoulders hunched as she tried to contain her pain.

Tim’s pajama buttons were misaligned and Ethan fixed them. He didn’t let his newphew go immediately. Instead, he tightened his grip for a moment, hugging his nephew close, inhaling the good clean smell of him.

“Love you, little buddy, you know that, don’t you?” he said quietly.

“I know,” Tim said. Then he wriggled, a signal he was over the hug, and Ethan released him.

“What’s wrong with you tonight?” Tim asked, his big eyes unflinching as they studied Ethan.

“Nothing.” Ethan dredged up a smile and used a corner of the towel to flick his nephew on the leg. “Time to hit the sack, matey.”

“Are you going to read me my bedtime story?”

“I thought I was doing that tonight,” an aggrieved voice said from the doorway.

Ethan looked up to find his younger brother wearing a mock-hurt expression on his face. Shorter than Ethan, he had the same strong cheekbones and dark hair but a slightly bigger nose and paler blue eyes.
Just enough ugly to save me from being a pretty boy like you,
Derek always joked.

“You can do it any old time,” Tim said airily.

“Nice to know I’m so easily replaced,” Derek said drily.

“I’m not replacing you, stupid, you’re my
daddy,
” Tim said, as if that explained everything.

“What brings you to this neck of the woods?” Derek asked.

“Just in the neighborhood,” Ethan said.

“What’s with the Bjorn Borg outfit?”

Ethan glanced down at his black midthigh-length shorts and charcoal hoody and raised an eyebrow at his brother’s derisive description. “Racquetball.”

“Ah. Still playing with that guy from work? Adam or whatever?”

“Alex. And he’s a she.”

“Really?” Derek’s expression turned speculative.

Ethan stood, shaking out the towel before arranging it over the rack. “You’re like a hairy, much less attractive version of
Hello, Dolly,
you know that?”

“What’s she like?”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “I’m not in the market. And even if I was, she’s a partner. And a friend.”

“So you’re seeing someone else? When can we meet her?” Derek asked.

For a moment Ethan considered lying, simply to get his brother off his back. “The tap’s leaking on the tub, by the way.”

“No shit. We could do dinner, the four of us. It’s been a while since Kay and I ate somewhere where they don’t have cartoons on the menu.”

“I’m not seeing anyone. I’m just not in the market.”

“Still racking up the notches on the old bedpost. What a challenge.” His brother’s tone was flat, unimpressed.

“Not everyone can have the white-picket dream, mate.”

Ethan had deliberately kept the uglier details of his divorce from his family, figuring there was no need for the world to know exactly how spectacularly his marriage had failed. The downside to that bit of self-preservation was these little pep talks his brother pushed on him periodically. Just as there was nothing worse than an ex-smoker, there was no one more pro-kids and pro-matrimony than a happily married man.

Even though he’d never admit it to his brother, Ethan’s social life was a lot less hectic than anyone imagined. Sleeping around had gotten old quickly after the divorce. Like drinking till you passed out and bragging about your exploits, being a man-slut was apparently something that a guy grew out of. Go figure.

“You seen
The Girls Next Door
lately? Hugh’s looking pretty tragic, shuffling around in that smoking jacket,” Derek said.

“Will you let it go, Derek?” Ethan said, an edge in his voice.

Most of the time he didn’t mind his brother’s old-lady nagging, but tonight…tonight it was really getting up his nose.

“Just trying to save you from yourself.”

“Yeah? Ever thought that maybe I don’t need saving?”

“Nope.”

Ethan turned his back on his brother and walked to the living room. If he stayed, they were going to wind up in an argument. Derek had good intentions, but he needed to let go of the idea that Ethan was going to meet a good woman and marry again. It was never going to happen. Ever.

Kay looked up from tidying the coffee table when he entered.

“Better get home to my wagyu,” Ethan said. “What time’s Jamie’s party again?”

“Midday. It’s on the invitation. You don’t want a coffee?”

He forced a smile. “I’m good. Got to go home and poach that seasonal fruit, remember?”

He blew her a kiss as he headed for the door.

* * *

Alex woke with a thump of dread. Something terrible had happened…

Then it all came back to her. Jacob, the doctor, the singles pages, the fertility clinic ad.

She lay in bed for a moment, thinking about the decision she’d made last night, walking around it, examining it from all sides, prodding it, seeing if she still felt the same way in the cold, hard light of a new day.

The answer was yes. She still wanted a child. And her smartest, most guaranteed, no-muss, no-fuss way of getting one was through a sperm bank. Which meant she had some work to do.

Ever since she could remember she’d been a facts-and-figures person. It was one of the reasons she’d opted for corporate law rather than criminal or family. She liked detail, and research, and she excelled at pulling together all the relevant information to make rational, smart decisions then going over and over and over the fine print until she’d plugged every hole, taken advantage of every opportunity.

As she rolled out of bed and made her way to the bathroom, she started strategizing. First, she needed to find a reputable clinic. She needed to explore the ins and outs of sperm donation, the screening process and the success rate for artificial insemination. Then she needed to get her life in order. If she was going to be pregnant in the foreseeable future, there were a lot of things she needed to get sorted.

A nursery, for starters.

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

Dear God, I’m really going to do this.

Pointless to deny that there was a definite thread of sadness mixed in with the determination and excitement. She’d grown up without a father. She would have preferred for her child to have one. But there were hundreds of thousands of single-parent families in the world. She would do her best by her child, if she was blessed with one, the same as any other mother. That would have to be enough.

She dressed in one of her dark tailored skirt suits, matching it with her steel-gray suede pumps, then brushed her hair until it fell smoothly to her jawline. She never wore much makeup apart from a dusting of powder, mascara and lipstick. Five minutes later, she was on her way to work.

It wasn’t until she was about to slide out of her car in Wallingsworth & Kent’s underground garage that she spotted Ethan in her rearview mirror and remembered the other part of last night—the embarrassing, revealing part where she’d lost it and somehow wound up confiding in him. She’d been so caught up in her plans this morning, so determined not to waste another minute, that she’d forgotten how thoroughly she’d exposed herself.

Instinctively she slunk down in her seat, waiting for Ethan to reach the elevators before checking the rearview mirror again. Only when the doors had closed on him did she sit up straight, feeling absurd and foolish and relieved all at once.

Why, oh why, hadn’t she gone home instead of giving in to obligation and playing that stupid racquetball game with him last night? She had an overdeveloped sense of responsibility, that was the problem. And look where it had gotten her.

There were plenty of women, she knew, who would line up around the block to take solace in Ethan Stone’s arms. But he was Alex’s colleague and fellow partner, and while she was prepared to privately acknowledge that he was an extremely attractive man, she had never, ever allowed herself to do more than that. She valued her hard-earned reputation as a professional who knew her stuff and who didn’t let emotion get in the way, far too much to indulge in office flirtation. Especially with a man who went through as many women as Ethan did. As for blubbering all over him like a histrionic schoolgirl, moaning about her declining fertility…

Aware that she’d been hiding in her car too long, Alex made her way to the elevators. She told herself that when she saw Ethan this morning, she would simply pretend it was business as usual. He’d have to take his cue from her and follow suit. A few days from now, he’d have written off her confession as hormones and they’d be back to their old footing.

Except the moment she exited the elevator on the fifteenth floor she heard his voice and spotted him standing in the kitchenette, chatting with Franny while he poured himself a coffee.

Do it. Grab a coffee, talk about the weather. Show him that you’re back to your mouthy, smart-ass self and normalize the situation.

She took a deep breath—then pivoted on her heel and walked the long way to her office. Which made her an enormous chicken, she knew, but she was only human.

She ducked him twice more that morning, bowing out of a meeting she was supposed to attend with him and taking the stairs when she saw him heading for the elevator. She told herself she was merely buying herself time—for her to get over her self-consciousness and for him to forget the details from last night.

She had half an hour free before the partner lunch at midday and she spent the time checking out fertility clinics on the internet, one eye on her office door the whole time.

She found a number of information pages, complete with testimonials, and she followed the links to yet more sites. She bookmarked a few, then found a recent newspaper article reporting that there was a drastic shortage of sperm donors in Australia, particularly donors who were willing to offer their sperm to single women or same-sex partners. According to the article, for some time Australian women had been ordering sperm from banks based in the U.S. Curious, she clicked on a link and found herself staring at literally hundreds of profiles on a U.S. website. She scanned the first one with growing incredulity.

Donor 39 is five foot eleven inches, average build, blue-eyed, blond hair. His background is Russian, German and English. He is a professional, tertiary educated…

It was a little shocking to Alex that all this information was so readily available and that the ordering process was so easy. She’d assumed she’d have to jump through more hoops, but according to the website all she had to do was supply her credit-card number and she could purchase the specimen of her choice and have it shipped out to a clinic in Australia within the week.

Feeling a little dazed, she hit the print button so she could take the donor profiles home and read them in privacy. It wasn’t until she closed the screen down that she jolted back to reality.

She was at work, for Pete’s sake, and she shared her printer station with
her legal secretary
and
two other lawyers.
All of whom could be standing around the printer right now watching her profiles spit out of the machine.

Shit!

She was on her feet and rounding her desk in seconds. Her high heels dug into the carpet as she bolted for the door. She raced past Fran’s desk to the printer alcove and sagged with relief when she found no one there.

Thank God. Thank. God.

The machine was spewing out pages and she collected them anxiously. She checked the first page—one of twenty! And it was only on page nine. She shot a look over her shoulder, then refocused on the machine.

Come on, come on!

She snatched each page as it appeared, adding it to the pile pressed to her chest. By the time she was down to pages nineteen and twenty her armpits were damp with nervous sweat.

“Hey. I’ve been looking for you. You missed our meeting earlier,” a deep voice said behind her.

She started, almost dropping her armful of incriminating documents.

“Ethan, you startled me.”

“No kidding. No more coffee for you today, tiger.”

“Yeah.” She smiled nervously, painfully aware that there was still one page outstanding from her tally. “So, um, how was the meeting? I had a scheduling conflict that I didn’t see until the last minute.”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the last page emerge from the printer. She grabbed it as it hit the tray. Only when all twenty pages were pressed tightly to her chest did she give Ethan her full attention.

“Dull, as usual. Remind me again why we volunteered to head the billing-software review.”

“Because we thought we could avoid making the same mistakes that were made last time?” she suggested.

“Right. How noble of us.” He moved a little closer and lowered his voice. “How are you doing today?”

She’d known this was coming from the moment she heard his voice. She steeled herself to meet his deep blue gaze.

“I’m great,” she said firmly. “Really great.”

“Yeah?”

He was standing so close she could smell his aftershave again. Embarrassed heat rose up her face. She dropped her gaze to the lapel of his charcoal pinstripe suit.

“Absolutely.”

She didn’t need to be looking at Ethan to know he was studying her closely.