Page 12 of The Lessons

I tensed, ready to pummel someone with my right hook.

But it was Ryan. He looked serious, his eyes darting around in quick succession.

“What?” I asked, confused, my fist stuck midair.

“Quick. We need to talk.” He glanced down the hall behind me. “Now,Natalie.”

The sternness and urgency in his voice made me nod as he ushered me into a nearby restroom and locked the deadbolt behind us.

I tried to regain my lady-like composure and set my purse down on the edge of the sink. “Nice suit.”

He looked down to survey his outfit and then back at me. “Professional attire helps put clients at ease.”

“I see. So,” I asked, “you do this a lot, then?”

He raised an eyebrow. “What? You mean surrogacy? It’s my job, Natalie.”

“I see that.”

“It’s not like I’m out screwing half of San Francisco if that’s what you’re implying.” He ran his hands through his dark hair before crossing his arms, clearly agitated.

God, I thought, washemad? That wasn’t very fair. I held my stance—it wasn’t like I’d done anything illegal or morally wrong. “Calm down. Relax, would you?”

He looked up at me, his eyes dark and flashing. “Seriously?”

Oh.He did sound rather mad. “What?” I asked again, bracing myself.

“This,” he said, gesturing to the empty space between us. “This cannothappen.”

Ah ha! So that’s why he was acting all distressed. “So you do remember me.” I smiled sweetly.

My comment caused his eyes to heat and his nostrils to flare. He pulled his neck back and looked momentarily confused. “Of course I do.” He sputtered, “You’re not exactly the forgettable type.” He crossed his arms, his biceps challenging the lean cut of his suit. “We can’t do this, Natalie. We just can’t. You aren’t supposed toknowyour surrogate. It’s against the clinic’s rules, and it’s unethical. You have to ask to be transferred. I’m sure they can get you another surrogate in a month or two.”

“A month or two?” I exclaimed. There was no fucking way I was waiting another month—or two!—for this. I was thirty fucking years old. If I had to wait much longer all the eggs in my ovaries would be hard-boiled and children would be impossible. There was no way I was giving this up. “Absolutely not.” I replied simply. Hell, I didn’t need to tell him my reasons; I was a paying customer. “Besides, why is it unethical? I barely know you. I wouldn’t have even known your last name if you hadn’t programmed it into my phone.”

“Keep your voice down,” he said, lowering his own voice. “You need to delete that. Promise me you will delete that.” He stopped pacing and stared at me intently.

“Fine. Whatever. But I’m not asking to be transferred.” I crossed my arms. I was fully aware that I’d lucked out—I had a surrogate who was attractive. I didn’t want to risk being matched up with Joe Uglyface or John Donkeybreath on my next go-round.

“Well, then I’ll tell Dr. Lerner and have you transferred.”

I stopped cold. Shit. He could do that? “No!”

He scowled at me. “Natalie I can’t ethically begin this work with you knowing that we…that we’ve known each other outside of the clinic.”

“Barely!” I exclaimed, feeling a loss of control. I stared at him, trying to figure out if he was bluffing, but his face didn’t give anything away. Hmm. I supposed he could. However, he wasn’t going to. Because of what I was about to say.

“Please. I need to do this, and I feel safe with you. Please. I will be the perfect patient. I can forget about what happened at the library.”

He stared at me for another minute, and I kept his gaze.

“Please. This is everything to me.”

He stood there, his arms crossed, his eyes trained on me.

A few moments of silence slipped by, and I couldn't help noticing the way his blue tie brought out his deep blue eyes. I focused on those eyes and pleaded one last time. “Please.”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly until his posture finally relaxed. “Fine.” He rubbed his temple, clearly conflicted. “But you have to promise me you’ll take this work seriously. Because that’s exactly what it will be—work. This is not?” He paused. “Whatever else.”

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