Perfectly Reasonable (12 page)

Chapter 25

Margo sat on an overturned bucket and checked her phone. The job at the hotel hadn’t slowed any in the past two weeks, despite Chloe returning to work. They were stalled for the moment until the primer in the current suite dried.

Her phone had become her link to Trace. They had texted back and forth, and she followed him on Twitter and Facebook. Crappy way of dating, but with her crazy hours, she didn’t have much choice. With his daily tweets, at least she felt like she knew what was going on in his life. One hundred and forty characters at a time.

The pace of her job wouldn’t last. She knew it. Didn’t make it any easier when she was in the midst of it, though. Another week, max, and the hours would get better. When it slowed, she had plans. Skin-to-skin contact, face-to-face time, and a two-way conversation more than one hundred and forty characters long.

She scrolled until she found his tweet.

The kids are bored. Send toys. Ricky wants sticker books. Adrian wants Lego.

#givewhatyoucan #KidsCancerCenterwaitingroom

Margo smiled. He had started a job attached to a research project at the Children’s Cancer Center. When he jumped in, he really jumped in.

“Another tweet from your boyfriend?” Chloe teased. She sat cross-legged on the floor and popped a banana mini-muffin in her mouth.

Margo looked over and grinned. “He’s campaigning for waiting room toys for the Children’s Cancer Center.”

“Good cause. He must like kids, eh? That would explain why he was at the sperm donor clinic two weeks ago.”

Margo’s eyes widened and she twisted, almost falling off the bucket. “What?”

Chloe took a sip of her mango juice and swallowed. “Yeah. I saw him there. I need sperm, obviously, as part of my baby bump mission. So I thought I’d check out the withdrawals offered at the sperm bank. They’re very stingy with their information, actually.” She waved a piece of muffin in the air. “How does one choose between 4859 and 4562? They’re numbers,” she said with a frown.

“They probably vet them carefully and match the characteristics you request.”

“That’s true. But what if there’s a reverse trait?”

“A reverse trait?”

“Yes, one that would throw up a stop sign. Make me want to reverse the process and rewind the clock. I have to live with the sperm-spawn for the rest of my life. I don’t want to risk a reverse trait.”

“Ah . . . I see your point.”

Chloe smiled broadly. “So I applied for a job at the clinic.”

Margo started. “What?”

Chloe nodded, a smug smile on her face. “Even got an interview. It went pretty well, I thought.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. I did really well.”

Margo shook her head. “No, I meant, you didn’t really apply for another job?”

“Sure did. But don’t worry. It’s only weekends nine to three. Receptionist. Full meet-and-greet duties, general dogsbody, and the biggest bonus, full access to all the files.”

“Chloe,” said Margo. “That information is supposed to be confidential.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

Margo shook her head.

Chloe popped the last of her mini-muffin in her mouth. “Once I choose the perfect sperm and have a baby swimming inside me, I’ll quit. Simple. Anyhow the interview was two weeks ago and lo and behold, who should walk in? Trace Bennett.”

“Really? Are you sure it was Trace?”

“Tall, blond, built, with incredible blue eyes?”

Margo frowned. He would do that? Donate sperm and be the anonymous father of a child? Granted, it was very altruistic. And didn’t she coach him about just that? Encourage him to take on projects to advocate for health and well-being? Yes, yes she did. And after all, it was his sperm. But still, she had a stake in that sperm now. Sort of. She sighed. Not really.

“I am definitely interested in a squirt from that vessel. I think we would make beautiful babies,” Chloe said with a mischievous grin.

Margo looked at her with wide eyes and felt her stomach burn. No. No. That was so not right. “B-B-But . . .” Before she could speak, her phone beeped with a text message. From Trace.

Hey, Breaking Bread tomorrow?

She had already missed two weeks. It was enough. The painting was close enough to the deadline that she could afford an evening for herself.

Yes. I can go. I’ll see you there?

She smiled at her phone, shut it off, and dropped it in the tote. “Let’s get this job finished, Chloe. I’m tired of watching paint dry.”

Chapter 26

Margo stepped out of her car, trying to avoid the icy patch covering most of the Breaking Bread parking lot. She missed the sunny skies of January. The first eleven days of February had been gray and dull, and the piles of snow plowed off the parking lot were taller than her Mini-Cooper.

“Hello, beautiful.”

Margo turned and smiled. Trace. He swept her close and covered her mouth with his. Margo pressed closer, her lips eager against his.

She lightly stroked the cool skin of his cheek. “Hi, handsome.”

Trace smiled and crushed his lips to hers, inviting her tongue to join him. Sensation built. Her breasts felt heavy, the swirl in her belly a lovely pull.

She sighed and pulled back slowly. “We should go in.”

Trace brushed his lips against hers. “We should.” He slipped his gloved hand in her open jacket and ran his hand down the curve of her breast. “Maybe after, we could find someplace warmer.” He ran his tongue along her jaw. “And more private.”

Margo’s skin tingled, and she shivered.

“Because I miss the feel of your skin,” Trace whispered in her ear.

Visions of their evening together swam in her head. Margo fleetingly contemplated getting back in her car, pretending she never arrived, and taking Trace with her. “You’re a bad influence,” she said, reluctantly stepping back.

Trace grinned. “What?” he asked innocently.

She shook her head and grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the door. “Work first,” she said, turning her head to smile at him. “Then play.”

Later, cuddled naked beside him, feeling satisfied and sleepy, she ran her fingers across his skin.

Trace had pulled light sheers across the wall of windows in his bedroom, but she could see the hazy light of the moon. The lake was still frozen, and the reflection of the moonlight on the snow, covering the wide expanse of the ice, brightened the sky.

“Would you be able to get off early on Thursday?”

Margo smiled. “For more of this?”

“Absolutely,” he said with a grin. “It’s Valentine’s Day. You’ll be my Valentine, won’t you?”

“Absolutely,” she said with a smile.

“I have plans. But I’d have to pick you up at three-thirty,” he said.

“Oh. Plans, eh? Sounds intriguing. Am I privy to your plans?”

He shifted and pushed her gently onto her back. He ran his hand across her breasts and teased the sensitive skin. “There’ll be some of this.” He trailed kisses across her jaw. “And some of that.” He continued down the ticklish side of her neck toward the soft skin of her breast. “Definitely some of this.” His tongue swept across her nipple. He tasted and teased and nipped with his teeth.

Margo arched toward him and groaned. “Thursday’s shaping up to be my favorite day of the week.”

Trace chuckled and continued the slow exploration of her skin with his lips and tongue. Across her belly and lower still, until Margo was writhing and bucking and grabbing his hips to guide him in.

Lying sweaty and spent, Margo turned to look at Trace. “Three-thirty you said? I’ll be ready.”

Trace removed the condom. He interlaced his fingers with hers, and after a few minutes, threw a blanket over the two of them.

“I should go,” Margo said in a sleepy voice, not making a move to leave. “I have to be up at six tomorrow morning.”

“Stay,” Trace said, brushing her curls away from her face. “I have to be at the hospital at eight, so we can get up together.”

“Really?”

Trace smiled and kissed her deeply.

Margo snuggled closer and let her hand wander. She loved the feel of his skin over the hard muscles of his abdomen. Across his thighs, feeling the muscles bunch. Dancing lightly over the warm skin. “How’s your new job going?”

Trace lifted her hand and kissed it. When he released it, she continued a trail across his skin.

“It’s good. I’m almost finished collecting the data. They thought they were done, but in order to run the stats, I needed some baseline information. So I’m interviewing some of the kids and parents again.”

“These are all kids with cancer?”

“Yeah. And they’ve had at least one round of chemotherapy.”

Margo sighed. “That’s rough.”

Trace was silent. She could feel the muscles of his belly ripple as she stroked his side.

“Some of those kids are tough,” Trace said finally. “They’ve been through a lot of shit. At that age, I was playing hockey after school, learning how to snowboard, running around at our cottage in the summer–”

“Being a kid.”

“Yeah, being a kid. They don’t get to be kids. May never get to be adults either.” Trace sighed.

Margo turned her cheek and kissed his chest. “I saw your tweet asking for toys. You’re helping them be kids.”

“In a small, small way. But, yeah. The response has been amazing. Some pretty awesome stuff has been sent in.”

She heard the sadness in his voice. “Part of medicine is helping patients get through the hard stuff. We can’t always take away the suffering,” she said as she kissed him softly again. “But you didn’t ignore it, either. You saw a way to brighten their day in the midst of all the black. And that’s a good thing.”

Her hand stroked and his body stirred. She wanted him inside. She wanted to soothe away the sorrow.

She trailed kisses across his chest as she shifted and straddled his waist. His hands came up to touch her skin. Not soothing, not softly, but yearning with need. He reared his head and caught her breast. Margo arched as he sucked and nipped, driving her higher. His hand slipped lower and found her wet and full and ready.

Margo ripped open a condom and batted his hand aside. She wanted him. She needed him now. She slid the condom on, loving the feel as he throbbed, and guided him inside. Gently first, then tightening around him. Moving and rocking, sliding and pressing. He grabbed her hips and thrust deeper. Margo’s breath caught. A sheen of sweat covered her skin. Sensation built and caught in her throat as she rose up and finally contracted around him. Trace, fast behind her, pumped his release.

Margo collapsed on his chest, her muscles languid as the tremors subsided, and listened to the rapid beat of his heart. Trace wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

“I don’t think I can move,” Margo murmured. “I haven’t felt this relaxed . . . since I saw you last.”

Trace chuckled. “You’re welcome.” He loosened his hold and rolled her over onto her back. “That was just the main course. We still have dessert.”

Margo smiled. “And I do have a sweet tooth.”

He trailed kisses across her collarbone. “I love the taste of your skin.”

Margo sighed as he nibbled and kissed. “Trace?”

“Hmmm . . .”

“Would you ever donate to a sperm bank?”

Trace sat back and looked at her. “I’ve thought about it. I read an article about a woman who had trouble conceiving. How grateful they were to have access to a sperm bank.” He shrugged. “I thought it was something I could do. Why?”

“I just wondered.” Margo looked away.

“Do you think it’s a good thing? Or bad?”

Margo frowned and tried to turn away. But he held her shoulder. “I think there are a lot of women who would welcome your sperm,” she said finally.

Trace grinned.

“I just don’t like the thought of sharing. I know, truly, it’s none of my business. But I’m a one-person-sperm-recipient at a time, kinda girl.”

Trace kissed her lips. “I’m a one-person-sperm-giver at a time, too. I decided not to do it in the end.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. All my sperm are yours, babe.”

“Thanks,” she said gratefully.

“But you’re using birth control, right?”

“Oh God, yeah,” she said with grin.

Chapter 27

Margo pulled a warm sweater over her head as the doorbell rang. She ran her hands through her curls trying to tame the worst of it and went to open the door.

Trace stepped in and pulled her close, crushing his lips to hers. She pushed aside his ski jacket and ran her hands under the soft cotton jersey he wore. Skin. Beautiful skin.

Why had he stressed that she should dress for the outdoors? There were too many layers. She was ready to start peeling them off.

Trace stepped back after one more short kiss. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said, his blue eyes twinkling.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to you, too.”

“Ready to go?”

Margo raised her eyebrows. “Where are we going?” She didn’t really expect an answer. They had been playing this game for the last three days.

“It’s a surprise,” he said, his standard answer.

She gathered her hat and gloves and wound a scarf around her neck. “Okay, all set.”

“Bring your snow pants, too,” he said.

Margo shrugged and tossed her snow pants over her arm as she locked the door to her apartment. “I guess I’ll finally get to see what kind of car you drive,” she said smugly.

He smiled back, followed her outside, and steered her toward a sleek black limousine.

“Courtesy of Bennett Homes,” he said as the driver opened the door for her.

Margo laughed as they climbed in together and settled back. Champagne was chilling, and a mini-plate of cheese and crackers and chocolate-covered strawberries sat on a tray in front of them.

“Nice car,” she commented as Trace fed her a strawberry.

“It’s a special occasion. We have a half-hour ride, and I thought I’d enjoy the champagne with you.”

“Good thinking,” she said as she clinked her glass with his. “To Valentine’s Day surprises that start with champagne and chocolate. It’s already perfect.” She leaned over and kissed him softly, tasting the champagne that lingered on his lips.

They sat back and enjoyed the smooth ride. The sun was getting low in the sky, but was still bright enough to glint off the snow covering the ground. They drove north into the countryside until solitary farmhouses were separated by acres of land.

They turned down a country lane and Margo caught a glimpse of a hot air balloon. “Oh. Look at the colors of that balloon. Gorgeous. Blue, green, orange, red. Look at the way the sun hits it. It’s almost glowing. Wow,” she said with a sigh. “I bet there’d be a spectacular view from a balloon.”

Trace smiled. “I guess we’ll find out.”

“Really?” Margo said, grinning from ear to ear. “Really? I would die to go up in a hot air balloon.”

The limo came to a stop.

“You are so getting lucky tonight,” Margo whispered to Trace as she stepped out.

Trace chuckled and squeezed her hand. “I’m already lucky,” he whispered back.

Trace walked, Margo skipped, hand in hand over to the balloon tethered in a field and introduced themselves to the pilot. Sean, a quiet man in his mid-forties, smiled broadly at Margo’s enthusiasm and indicated they could climb inside the basket. He made a few adjustments to the ropes outside, tested his walkie-talkie, and then climbed in with them. As he opened the burner, he motioned for the two grounds crew to release the tether lines.

With a whoosh and a roar, the balloon filled and rose above the treetops. Margo gripped the edge and watched, fascinated, as the balloon caught the wind and soared silently across the field. Cool air brushed her cheeks. With Trace’s arm around her, she was warm.

The occasional roar of the propane burner broke the silence as they glided along. Snow on the fields, tall evergreens, an array of bare deciduous trees, their branches like art in the sky, Margo drank it all in. The air was fresh with the occasional whiff of pine as they skimmed the treetops.

The pilot explained that the course they took varied with the wind, but a crew on the ground followed their path and would meet them with a truck where they landed.

Margo wished it would never end.

The sky lit up in layers of color. A wide band of pink changed to bright orange and mixed with burnt yellow as the sun set behind them.

After an hour, the pilot aimed for a field in the distance to bring them down. The ground rushed closer as the balloon lowered and finally touched down with a bump.

“Perfect.” Margo leaned into Trace. “That was perfect.”

The pilot secured the basket and the grounds crew rushed over and anchored the tether lines. Trace and Margo hopped out of the basket and were handed glasses of champagne.

“To a safe and successful ride,” Sean said, raising his glass.

They clinked glasses and drank. Margo caught Trace’s eye. “Thank you. I loved that,” she said.

The limousine pulled up to where the balloon sat, slowly deflating.

“Thanks very much,” Trace said as they shook hands with the pilot and crew. “We may be back for more.”

The pilot grinned. “Hard to stay away once the bug catches you.”

They waved good-bye and climbed into the limo.

Margo sighed. “It’s going to be hard to top that.”

“A challenge?” Trace asked with a grin.

She looked into his blue eyes and let her gaze travel over the square jaw, the broad shoulders. Remembering what was underneath all the layers, and what his hands and tongue and lips were capable of, she said, “You’re right. It can only get better.”