Page 10 of Baby Bodyguard

“No, Imean a clinic. If I’d been smart, I’d have had the procedure done there. That way I’d never have known the donor and he’d never have known me. It would have been handled anonymously and I wouldn’t have to worry about any future contacts between us.”

“A donor.” Maybe he was the slow one. Maybe he’d knocked a few nuts out of his can. “You did say a donor, correct?”

A frown lined her brow and she gazed at him in concern. “Why do you keep repeating everything? Are you… Are you all right?”

She put enough emphasis on her final two words to royally tick him off. She was the crazy one, not him. And if she didn’t know it, he’d be only too pleased to explain it to her. “Do you remember when I asked that we spell everything out and not assume we knew what the other person meant?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Well, Ineed you to start doing that.” He stopped her before she could escape from her chair. “Before you go flitting around the room again, Iwant you to explain something to me.”

She released an exasperated sigh. “What do you need explained?”

“I’m going to ask you a question and you’re to be as clear and concise in your response as possible. Got that?”

“Clear and concise. Got it.”

“Okay. Now. What donor are you talking about and what clinic?”

“A sperm donor at a fertility clinic.” She stared in bewilderment. “What do you think we’ve been talking about all this time?”

Chapter 2

Noah staredin utter disbelief. “You’re hiring someone to what?”

Sami erupted from her chair. Why did he look so shocked? He said he’d been hired by her mother, that Babe knew about the ad. So why the sudden outrage? “To father my baby, of course. Isn’t that what we’ve been discussing all this time?”

“It may have been what you were discussing, but—”

She attempted to walk off some of her agitation, the chatter of her bracelets drowning out his words. “Don’t you understand? Ichose this method because a clinic is so… so clinical. It’s impersonal. Ithink that’s terrible! Having a baby shouldn’t be a clinical process. And it shouldn’t be impersonal.” She helped herself to another square of chocolate, savoring the creamy texture as it melted on her tongue. She instantly felt calmer. She held out the box. “Would you like one?”

“No. What I’d like is an explanation.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing.” Clearly the man had no appreciation for the finer epicurean treats in life. “I want to know all about the man who will father my son or daughter. Iwant to know what sort of genes will be combining with mine. What he looks like, what he thinks about, whether he has more than two brain cells rattling around in his skull.”

“Whoa! Time out.” He added something beneath his breath, aferocious slew of words she was better off not attempting to decipher.

She planted her hands on her hips and swiveled to face him. “What’s wrong?”

“Is that what all those men in the hallway are for?”

“Of course.”

“You’re looking for someone to father your baby?”

Her frown deepened. “Maybe I should also schedule a psychological exam, just to play it safe.”

“I suggest you schedule one for yourself, as well.”

He climbed to his feet, towering over her. Maybe it was his penchant for wearing black she found intimidating. Really, couldn’t he have softened the effect with a bit of lemony-yellow or peachy-coral? Or perhaps it wasn’t the intense black at all, but the way his shirt stretched over impressively broad shoulders and clung to powerful thighs. Or maybe it was the manner in which he fixed those piercing gray eyes on her. It took every ounce of self-possession not to squirm like a schoolgirl. She hadn’t felt this way since… Since… Well, good grief. Come to think of it, she’d never felt thisway.

“Have you lost your mind?” he demanded.

She scowled. “I suspect I have. Maybe if you moved all—” She gestured at the muscular wall of black blocking her path. “All that further away, Icould think straight.”

His eyebrow—his black eyebrow—shot upward. Amusement dimmed the anger glittering in his gaze. “Am I standing too close?” he asked blandly.

“Yes. To be honest, I’m typically one of those people with little to no sense of personal space. But with you…” She shook her head. “I may have to install a buffer zone.”

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