Bachelor Mother (27 page)

"I'm flattered you asked me," she said.

"I was dead serious."

Her eyes were still bright with unshed tears. It touched him the way she blinked than back.

"You're going to make a beautiful baby," she whispered.

He smiled at her. "You're sure I couldn't interest you in a trial run? What I have in mind for you doesn't have much to do with having babies."

She smiled back, then slowly shook her head.

"I'm out of your league, Cameron. And I think I'm wise enough to know it."

"I could be quite good to you."

She shook her head again and he watched as her shoulder-length, dark auburn hair swung from side to side. It was straight and smooth and shiny, picking up the low lighting and reflecting it back. He wondered what it would feel like to run his fingers through it, to see it spread out on a pillow beneath her head...

"I know you would be. But I need more than that."

He leaned back in his chair and studied her. "You and Jules and all that talk about love. It's too bad he's not a little younger, or you older. You would suit each other admirably.''

"I care for your grandfather a great deal." He watched as she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue and wondered why she was nervous. "He helped me tremendously last year when my father passed away."

"He always goes that extra mile." He hadn't known about that, either. He'd been in Germany for much of the year, checking out new sources of toys for the company.

They finished their meal and left the restaurant. Cameron's car was waiting out front, the driver nonchalantly reading a copy of the
National Star.
When he saw his boss, he leapt to attention and pulled the sleek black car toward the curb.

Cameron helped Michaela into the car and gave the driver her address.

* * *

She sat in her bedroom’s bay window for most of the night, looking up at the stars and wondering what her father would have said to her had she told him about this particular problem.

Oh, Pop, what am I going to do?

Michael Larkin had been a policeman and the best father a little girl could ever want. Fiona Larkin had died in childbirth but Michael had never made his daughter feel like she was to blame.

It had been the two of them against the world for as long as she could remember. He'd been behind her every whim. Taking her to the local fire station when she'd professed a desire, at the age of five, to be a fireman. Scraping up the money for ballet lessons and coming to every single recital, even though she'd known she was a terrible dancer.

Making her feel loved in a way no one else ever had.

Cheering her on through law school. At her graduation, so proud he was almost bursting with it.

Throwing a party when she passed the bar exam which encompassed almost everyone she'd ever known growing up.

Helping her through a divorce that had destroyed her self-confidence as a woman and made her feel as if a piece of her soul had been ripped from her body. By her side, on her side. Always. Fighting for her, caring for her. Loving her.

He'd always been there until he'd passed away in his sleep almost a year ago. His heart, the doctor had said. He'd always had too much, she thought. And afterward, as life went on in the house she'd grown up in that suddenly seemed so empty without his presence, she'd realized what it meant to be truly alone.

He'd left her the rambling old Victorian house, his cats, no outstanding bills, and enough money so she didn't have to worry about financial matters if she was careful.

She missed him every single day of her life.

As Michaela gazed up at the stars, she realized her father had left her a powerful legacy. He'd taught her what it was to love and be loved. She wasn't afraid of an intimate relationship with a man. She wanted a marriage, a partnership that encompassed true intimacy and love on every level.

That was why she'd cut Cameron off from the beginning.

Now, the way she felt inside at the thought of him marrying and having a child, she wasn't so sure she'd done the right thing.

Okay, Pop, what would you do?

She thought she saw one of the stars twinkle brightly in the night sky. Funny, how you could be as blasé about an afterlife as you wanted, but when someone you loved died it was comforting to think of a Heaven. She hoped her father was up there making people laugh and playing the classical music he loved full blast.

She knew what she had to do. She had to draw up a contract and make sure it met Cameron's specifications. She would have to meet this particular woman, as Cameron would probably bring her to the office to sign the contract and have it witnessed.

She'd have to think of her in his bed, in his arms, making love, having his child... Living a life that, even with that cold-blooded contract, seemed so much more full of passion than her own did, stretched out in front of her. Endless, lonely days.

It wasn't her style to feel sorry for herself but the facts spoke for themselves. She was honest with the men she dated. Up-front. When things became serious and she thought she could trust them, she told them she could never have a child.

Two men since her husband had left, both gazing at her with a horrible sort of pity in their eyes. Both experiences had been acutely painful. Neither had taken her into his arms and reassured her, told her that it was all right, it was her they loved and not what her body was supposed to effortlessly be able to do.

At least Cameron was more honest about it. Upfront. He wanted what he wanted and was willing to go the legal mile to get it. You couldn't fault him for having a devious bone in his body.

Gomez, her father's cat, jumped up onto her lap. He leaned into her, purring, and she rubbed the top of his head. Morticia lay on the carpet watching her. The two black and white cats missed Michael Larkin as much as she did.

Though she'd changed a few things in the Victorian, there were three things that remained sacred. Her father's cats, his garden, and his piano.

Both cat's loud purring filled the still night air. Michaela pushed her hair out of her eyes and went back to scratching Gomez beneath his chin.

Maybe you should've taken Cameron up on his offer. Maybe, just to feel... something.

Her heart picked up speed at the thought of making love with Cameron. For despite his deceptively laid-back style, she had a feeling he would be nothing but masculine passion and fire once he had a woman in his arms.

One of the deepest regrets of her life was that she couldn't be that woman.

* * *

One of the deepest regrets of his life was that she couldn't be that woman.

Cameron stood by one of the large windows in his bedroom, a glass of wine in his hand. And wondered at his inability to feel.

Oh, it didn't take a genius to figure out why he was the way he was, why he reacted to things the way he did. He'd never been in therapy, as his personality was deeply private. He knew that since he'd been a child he hadn't trusted in the basic goodness of life. It was so much easier to carve one's way through life making sure you had absolutely nothing to lose.

Empires could be rebuilt. Companies could be brought out of the red. Business was so easy because as passionate as he was about his work there was a part of him that was never touched by it.

He wasn't a man who gave himself over to anything.

Ever.

But love... What was love, anyway? In all of his life he'd seen it cause nothing but pain. Joy as well, of course, but to his mind there was no amount of earthly ecstasy and happiness that made up for the emotional upheaval love could produce.

So, he thought as he finished his glass of wine and set it down on the table by the window overlooking San Francisco Bay, you are perfectly justified in what you're about to do.

He knew what Julian was up to. He'd been able to read his grandfather from the time he was small. It was one of the many survival skills he'd honed to perfection during his short but turbulent childhood with his unpredictable parents. Things had stabilized once Julian and Mary had taken him in but he'd never trusted the world to be a basically good place after his parents had been killed.

He knew this and was comfortable with his way of looking at the world.

Until Michaela...

He thought of her as Michaela in his mind, though he was always careful to call her Mike. To create a small but necessary distance between than. A distance he'd needed because of the way she'd affected him.

She'd come into his world with the force of a rocket that first day in his office. He'd glanced up, seen her, and known. Known deep in his soul that this woman was trouble. She could reach him. She could touch him. She brought out feelings in him besides the basically male instinct to get her into his bedroom as quickly as possible.

He'd tested the limits. Carefully arranged business dinners so he could spend more time with her on the pretext of going over various contracts. Made it a point to interact with her every single time she came into his office. Forced himself to spend time with her so that he might uncover a flaw, a reason not to continue this silent fascination.

He hadn't been able to dim the force of his attraction. He hadn't been able to find anything wrong with her, other than a very attractive stubbornness that excited him. For Michaela would be no man's doormat and would give back as good as she got.

He thought of pouring himself another glass of wine. Ever since agreeing to Julian's ridiculous scheme he'd had trouble sleeping. He had to find a woman he wanted enough so he would be able to function in their marital bed and produce an offspring. And that would finally satisfy Julian's quest to ensure he had an emotionally satisfying life.

Well, he'd wanted women. And he'd certainly had them. But he'd never wanted any woman with the complete emotional intensity he'd felt for Michaela. And she'd made herself as unattainable as a dream.

She wanted love. It was ironic, for that was the one thing beyond his power to give. Wealth, luxury, a decadent life-style most women would sell their respective souls for. But not Michaela.

And it angered him that she'd seen right through to the heart of the conflict between them. And knew him for what he was, a man unable to love.

A man unable to bear another loss.

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. If she'd agreed to lesser conditions, then she wouldn't be the woman he—cared for.

Loved?

He put the thought out of his mind.

He turned toward his bed and thought of her there, beneath the covers, warm and willing and waiting for him. Cameron felt his body's instant response to the fantasy and wondered at this woman's ability to arouse him even when she wasn't there.

How she might laugh if she knew how foolishly besotted he was over her. How she might use her uniquely feminine power over him if she even suspected she held the smallest portion of his heart.

But that wasn't like Michaela either and he knew it, was ashamed of himself for even thinking it.

He'd only been half joking when he'd offered her a turn as his wife. He'd been hoping she'd take him up on it. Then, to have to drag the information out of her that she was to remain childless. A woman like that, with so much to give...

And here he was, a man essentially dead inside, who was basically going to buy himself a child.

He poured himself another glass of wine, then walked back to the window and looked out over the sleeping city.

"I know you for what you are," he said softly, then took a sip of the expensive wine. How strange, to be addressing life. And for just a moment, he wished desperately that he were still able to give, to hope, to dream.

To love.

But it wasn't to be. It couldn't be. Cameron Black finished his wine, set down his glass, then turned off the lights and continued to stare out over the sleeping city.