A Baby...Maybe? & How to Hunt a Husband (5 page)

It was a shaped like a cow. Its eyelashes were blinking, and the udders, which seemed to be sparkling in the sunlight, were moving, too. It was so sweet. And then, as if it were a sign from above, across the cow's side were the words Noble Sperm Bank Association.

Thoughtfully, Cara circled her palm over where a baby would grow. She looked at the sign again. A sperm bank. That was it. That was the answer to what she needed. It wouldn't be an illicit affair that created a child, it would be a laboratory. Perfectly innocent, nothing about it would bring embarrassment to her parents.

She had been thinking about having a baby for years, and now for the first time it seemed as if it could be done practically without having to marry one
of Cecilia's less-than-stellar choices. Yes, she would have to weigh the pros and cons of being a single mother. And she would—carefully. She'd get all the information first and then make a decision. An informed decision.

She would have to ask a lot of questions. Of course, that posed the next problem. What do you ask? “Hey, I'd like to have a vial of sperm?” Or perhaps, “Brother can you spare a cup?” Would she hand over a container and say, “Fill 'er up”? Maybe that would have been good when there were full-service gas stations, but there weren't any of those anymore. She'd bet there weren't full-service sperm banks either. Not the kind where you could bring in your own gallon container and have them pour in the fuel, so to speak. Oh, who knew? She didn't.

Anyway, all this worrying was silly. Why worry about that now? First things first. She'd go in, she'd ask questions, she'd get the information. After she had the information, she'd leave the sperm bank with her head held high—because there was nothing embarrassing or degrading about using a sperm bank—go back to her hotel room and mull over the pros and cons. She'd even sleep on it for a night or two and then tell them yes.

Cara checked to make sure her plate was still balancing on the railing, and it looked fine. She bent down to get a piece of paper and a pen out of her purse to write down the Noble Sperm Bank's phone number and address. That's when she heard a very deep masculine voice utter a very naughty word.

She straightened up to give that deep voice a talking-to, the way she would to her students. There were certain words a person didn't say in mixed company. When she did, she came face-to-face with a pair of sky-blue eyes and a head and shoulders covered in
chicken wings. She glanced down at the railing. “You knocked down my wings,” she said.

“I don't think so, lady.”

“They were right here. And now they're on you. Where did you come from?”

“Right there.” He pointed to the grass on the other side of the patio. “Minding my own business. I was bombed.”

“Yes, you were,” she said. She didn't know what else she could say except, “But I didn't do it. At least, not on purpose.”

He cast her a doubtful glance.

“I didn't.” She had to catch her breath. When he stood in a full and upright position he was tall. She figured that out because the patio was a little bit above ground level and he towered over her. Then she notice a cell phone in his hand and the cell phone seemed kind of flattened.

“
I
didn't touch your telephone,” she stated, pointing to the crunched accessory, being held together by only a few wires.

“I know that. I was down here looking for the phone when I got pelted.” He reached down to the ground and brought up her plate. He held it out to her. “I believe this is yours.”

She scrunched up her eyes, and her lips had contoured themselves into a pained expression. She held out her hand. “I believe it is.”

He handed her the greasy plate stained with barbecue hot sauce and ranch dressing. She picked off several blades of grass and dropped them on the ground.

“I believe these are mine, too.” She plucked one wing out of his hair, then another and another. He did nothing to help her. Just stood there, his lips set in a sardonic leer. She had to pause a moment before she went for the shoulders. Touching him with her fingers
made the muscles in her belly jump around, do a dance, make her kind of queasy. Which was strange since her hands and her belly were pretty far apart. The nausea had to be from lack of food. That was probably it. Although it didn't account for her shallow breathing and inability to fill up her lungs.

She took a wing off his shoulder. His muscle tightened beneath her touch. He rotated them, which sent several chicken wings plunging downward.

There was one on top of his belt buckle. She reached for it, but he brushed her hand away, taking care of that area himself.

“I'm so sorry,” Cara said softly. “I'll be happy to…”

“I can do this one myself.” He may have said that, but he made it sound like a challenge.

“I was going to say I'd be happy to pay.”

“Of course you were. That's what I was thinking you were going to say.”

“Well, I was.”

“The food was yours, not mine.”

“I meant for the cleaning bill.”

“Don't be silly.” His voice, deep and kind of gravelly, made her want to lean forward, closer, made her wish he'd talk in longer sentences. She didn't detect much of a Texas accent.

He was looking beyond her, waving at people. She heard a few comments like, “Way to go, Doc,” and “Did you miss your lips?” This man, the doc, waved and took the teasing all pretty good-naturedly considering she had clobbered him with food and everyone knew red sauce never washed out of anything.

Cara peeled the napkins off the side of her tea glass. Although they were thin and would hardly do any good, she still reached out again, brushed his stained shoulders with the limp wet napkins. Not one of her better ideas, she realized too late, after the splatters
had spread into smears and the napkins tore into gross little pieces.

“I'm so sorry.” She barely could get the words out. “I just want to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment.”

“No, you don't,” he countered.

“You're right.” She balled what was left of the napkins and put the mess on the plate, crowning the pile of dirty wings. “It seemed like the nice thing, the right thing to say, though.” She gave him her best smile as she did a “I'm a woman, I don't care what you think” half shrug. She'd seen it done on TV many times. It looked good.

“Very nice.”

“Thank you. Can I ask you a question?” she said.

“Ask away.”

“What were you
really
doing down there?” She picked up her glass of iced tea. The glass was wet and her hands were sticky. She wiped the moisture from the sides of the glass. Her hand shook a little and that surprised her. She couldn't possibly be nervous, could she? With a man? That would be silly. “Were you trying to look under my skirt?”

“What? Do you think I'm stupid?”

She shrugged.

“If anyone is being stupid, lady, it's you.”

“That's not a very nice thing to say.”

“Well, you're not wearing a skirt.”

“Oh.” She grinned at him. “I'm on vacation.”

“And I was on a mission. Which I had already told you about.” He waved the broken phone. “My assistant would have killed me if I lost another one.”

Rex hadn't needed to be showered with chicken, hot sauce and ranch dressing, thank you very much. Then again, in front of him, separated only by an iron railing was one stunning-looking female, and if he had to be hit on the head with chicken, she was the one
he'd like to be doing it. For once, he would consider thanking Cathy and her constant pestering that had sent him back out looking for his lost cell phone.

The lady on the patio was small. Very small. But after a cursory gaze down her figure, he decided she wasn't small everywhere. Not where it counted. Her brown hair looked mighty thick and heavy and hung down past her waist. Strands of hair fell over her shoulders, covering her breasts. She flipped it behind her by shaking her head and using the back of her wrist—the only part of her hand not covered in sauce. When she did that, the sun reflected off the gold around her wrist, neck and ears, almost blinding him with its brightness. All the jewelry seemed to made of coins that jangled with her movements. If the coins were real and not the hollow cheap stuff you could buy at the five-and-dime, then the gold had to weigh more than she did. He was impressed by her ability to stand straight and not be weighed down by hair and jewelry.

And that hair. When she tossed it all behind her, revealing her breasts and all the gold, he had to admit that he liked that. A lot. It was nice. Real nice. The curls, not her breasts. Although her breasts, from what he could tell by their shape under the sweater, were something he could be real comfortable with exploring further. They looked mighty good, too.

Her small nose was straight except at the tip where it turned up very slightly. Her chin was rounded and at this moment quivering, as if she was trying not to laugh. Her brown eyes were big, almond-shaped and fringed with black lashes so long they almost touched her eyebrows.

She tilted her head a little to the right, squinted against the sun, and then her lips moved and she spoke, which by itself wasn't unusual, since lips did move when people spoke.

However, her lips— Man-oh-man, how did a guy put into thought what his body signaled when he watched those lips move? How did he describe a basic need and desire? If he could have grabbed her, lay one on her, and suck the living daylights out of those full pink lips he would have. And if he did that, she'd let him and she'd like it and beg for more. Then again, so would he.

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“I'm not from here.”

He didn't need her to tell him that. Her hair, long and mostly straight, gave that away. Pegleg women were known for their big hairdos, not anything as
natural
as what this lady had crowning her head.

“Where?”

“East.”

“As in Louisiana?”

“No, east.”

He wasn't stupid. “Louisiana
is
east.” Females. This one was ornery, but sexy as all get-out. So he set a smile on his face, one he hoped reeked of friendliness and not lust, and tried to picture her naked. He made no apology for that either. He was, after all, first and foremost, a guy. A guy who could tell that the woman standing there looking so cute was very interested in him. “I was wondering,” he started, his accent getting a little thicker, a little more Texas, “Miss Person From the East…” His voice trailed off when the lady turned away from him and waved at Kate Donetti.

When she turned back toward him, he fully expected her to offer her name, address, vital statistics and phone number. Instead, she said, “You're a very nice man. Thank you for being so understanding.”

She shoved the plate of grassy wings at him, which
he had no choice but to grab or they'd fall again, then she did an about-face and left him standing there.

She might have run away for now, but Rex knew Kate Donetti. If the chicken lady was friends with Kate, he'd find her again in no time at all.

C
ARA'S FIRST THOUGHT
was to confide everything to Kate. She wanted to tell her all about how she was thinking about using the sperm bank to get artificially inseminated, to have her heart's desire, a baby—and outwit her mother. It wasn't that she didn't want her mother to win the bet, it was the fact that the bet shouldn't have been made in the first place. Parents were not supposed to place bets on their children's lives. It wasn't done.

Just as she was about to tell Kate her hopes and dreams for the future, something in her head told her, “Stop.” Instinct kept her from revealing her plan, at least for a little while. It wasn't that she didn't trust Kate to keep a secret. It had more to do with not wanting to debate the pros and cons of her decision with anyone. She could debate herself down to the ground if she wanted. Cara just didn't want anyone to burst her bubble. Not that Kate had ever been less than supportive, but right now there were so many people wanting to run her life, tell her what to do, make decisions for her. It was taking away the joy a woman should have when making her own choices, even if some of those choices might turn out to be mistakes. Not that having a baby would be a mistake. A baby would probably be the one decision that was right. It was having the baby out of wedlock that wouldn't be right. Unfortunately, in life, sometimes a
woman had to sacrifice what was right for what was in her heart.

Still, Cara didn't want to confide her intentions to anyone until she called Noble Sperm Bank, talked to one of the nurses and got as much information as she could. Once she had the information then she would be able to make an informed, not impassioned, decision. If she decided to go ahead with her plan, that would be the time to confide in Kate. So instead of talking about babies and creams, she told Kate about how she accidentally spilled her chicken on some great-looking guy. “Did you see him?” Cara asked. “He was to die for.”

“I saw you talking to someone, but I was too far away. What's his name?”

“I don't know. I thought you'd know.”

“I probably would have known if I had seen him. What did he look like?”

“He was very tall, dark hair, wearing cowboy boots.”

“Oh, I know who that is,” Kate said.

“Who?” Cara got so excited she practically jumped off the chair.

“Let's see.” Kate tapped her long fingernail on a front tooth. “It could be any one of the thousands of men who live here.”

“He had blue eyes,” Cara added helpfully.

“And?”

Kate didn't seem to find that piece of information helpful at all, which surprised Cara. She thought it was a good clue. “Piercing blue eyes?” she asked, hoping that would be better.

Kate only shrugged.

Maybe if Kate had seen how crystal clear the blue of his eyes were, how bright, then she would have known who Cara's cowboy was. There was a piece of information that she was leaving out. She closed
her eyes and thought hard. Then she remembered the most important piece of information, that's all. “I know he's a doctor.” Cara offered triumphantly.

“That limits our scope to about five hundred men in this area alone. We're narrowing him down. Anything else you remember?”

What else was there to notice? Cara had soaked in the doctor's handsome face and the body that looked as if it lifted thousands of pounds of weights. She had noticed everything important. “No. I guess that's all.”

Kate started laughing. “You goose.”

“Not really. It's probably for the best. I'll be leaving in nine days anyway. No point in getting all flustered and lusty after some cowboy that I'll have to leave behind with a broken heart.”

Now Kate was roaring. “That's the spirit. That's what I like to hear. Not like you sounded on the phone last week. You sounded as if your mother had beaten you down.”

“She almost has. I'm starting a new lease on life. I'm going to be independent. I'm going to be my own person. I'm going to fly.”

“Oh, Cara.” Kate's voice softened and her smile seemed bittersweet. “Sometimes making that decision is the hardest thing to do, but the rewards are well worth it.”

Kate would know, too. She had walked out of her wedding and left the groom at the altar, a groom picked by her meddling mother, Brigit. Brigit, the woman who had the bet with Cecilia.

Cara held up her fisted hand, only her pinkie sticking out. Kate linked her own pinkie with Cara's and together they said, “Kindred spirits.”

“What do you want to do while you're here?” Kate asked, breaking their sisterhood moment.

“Lots of things.” Like get pregnant. “Do you have
any suggestions?” If only she had thought to get the cowboy's name.

“We'll find plenty to do. Starting with shopping.”

By the time they finished a lunch of smoked brisket so tender it melted in Cara's mouth, potato salad made with hard-boiled eggs, sweet relish, green and black olives and onions, fried okra and homemade garlic bread, they were beyond stuffed. Cara and Kate rolled out of Mama Jo's and waddled toward their cars.

“I'll never eat another bite of food,” Cara said. Her stomach hurt from squeezing so much down, filling up spaces she didn't even know she had. Too many more meals like that one and she'd have to buy a second ticket for the flight home to accommodate the extra bulk in her hips and thighs. The food was too good. Way too good.

“I know. I say that every time I come here. And then I'm right back again.”

“I thought you didn't eat meat.” Cara remembered Tony and Kate's heated debates about the hazards of eating beef and sushi. Kate was sure everything Tony served at his restaurant was unhealthy and would kill the clientele. This opinion didn't sit well with Tony.

Now however, Kate was blushing. “Don't mention this to anyone, but Mama Jo's beef is an exception. My one and only dip into meat.”

“I can see why.” Cara clutched her stomach and nodded in agreement.

“You just don't know,” Kate whispered conspiratorially, although there was no one around to hear. “I'm only glad Mama Jo's is miles down the road from Donetti's or we'd go out of business. I'm telling you, that woman can cook.”

Cara dug in her purse for a roll of antacids. She had been carrying an extra-large supply of them since her mother had started the marriage campaign in earnest. She took four, and offered the rest of the roll to
Kate, who unceremoniously dumped all of them into her mouth and quickly chewed.

“Ooh, that was good,” Cara said, which was about the biggest understatement of the year.

“Nothing like a big barbecue lunch topped off with antacids for dessert. God, we're pathetic,” Kate groaned.

“Next time, I think I'd like to try the fried turkey.”

“Ooh, Cara, that's a very good choice. In fact, I'll bring the dessert next time. A roll of antacids apiece. That should cover it.”

As they walked to their cars, Cara was absolutely positive that Noble's cow with the flirty eyelashes called out to her, “Mommy, Mommy-to-be. Hurry up. I want to be born.”

Cara, as nonchalantly as she could, pointed to the cow, and said, “Cute, isn't it?”

“Did you see the bull on the other side of the freeway?”

“A little.”

“Did you see the way he was hung?”

“I don't think so.”

“You'd know if it you had. Oh, baby. His thin-gee—” She held her hands wide apart, then stretched them even wider. “It would give any mortal man a definite inferiority complex.”

“I guess I wasn't paying attention.” Cara's heart started to beat a little faster. She hadn't been around many naked men, and the few she'd seen hadn't particularly impressed her. Maybe the bull would give her something to judge her next boyfriend by. An instant replay of all the men her mother had paraded before her recently made her doubt she'd ever have a boyfriend again. Not if those were the choices. She thought of the cowboy, her cowboy, covered in barbecue sauce and chicken wings. Those piercing clear blue eyes. She only wished she'd jumped on him—
literally—when she'd had the chance. If she were ever going to do anything daring and out of schoolteacher character, this was the time to do it. Before she had to go back and be Miss Romano again.

“Is this sperm-bank business reputable?” She held her breath, hoping against hope.

“Sure it is, Cara. Rex has one of the finest reputations in the country. If there was a person considering artificial insemination, you couldn't get any better than Noble Sperm Bank. They've been in the business for years.”

“Interesting…” Cara's thoughts trailed off to baby powder and booties.

“I have to tell you, Rex is a to-die-for single guy who isn't dating anyone and doesn't want to.” She stopped and pulled Cara's arm, stopping her, too. “He's got pretty, blue eyes, too,” Kate teased. “Want me to fix you up?”

“You said he didn't want to date.”

“Cara, you have so much to learn. They all say that. It's a man's way of playing hard to get, when they all want to be gotten. I'm telling you, these Texas cowboys—” A big smile crossed her lips and she sighed.

“I don't think so.” At this point, after all the men her mother had tried to set her up with, and figuring that single men were all the same just with different accents, she had no use for any of them until they grew up a little. Besides, she'd seen the only cowboy she was interested in, and if she couldn't have him she'd have no one. “Anyway, I don't want anyone to know I'm here.”

“He wouldn't call your mom and tell her you were hiding out in Texas.”

“I've never met the man. How do I know he wouldn't? The fewer people who know I'm here, the
safer I'll feel. My mother has ways of finding things out.”

“Just think about it. If you change your mind, you'd like a Texas man. I know they take some getting used to, but these guys have been raised right. They're gentlemen.”

“Okay, Kate. I'll think about it.” Cara stopped in front of the Mustang. “Here's the car.”

“Hey, if this isn't a guy magnet, I don't know what is.” She stroked the hood. “Now all you need is a cowboy to give you the ride of your life.”

“You're terrible.” Cara punched her friend on the arm, wishing all the while that she could find that cowboy one more time and work on getting that ride.

“I know, I know. I'm sorry. I miss that very dry Erie sense of humor,” Kate said wistfully. “People here in Pegleg are nice, but they just don't get it, you know what I mean?”

“I think so. Kate, I know I'm going to have a great time this week.”
Life-altering time is more like it.

“Not without a cowboy of your own.”

“As far as getting fixed up with a cowboy, we'll see.” Cara laughed.

That seemed to satisfy Kate. She said, “Great. Don't think too long. I'd hate for you to change your mind on the plane ride back.”

“I won't.”

“I'm there.” Kate pointed several rows over. “Follow me to Mandelay, I'll introduce to you Rosey, and you can get yourself settled in and rested. How's that?”

Cara gave Kate a hug. “Thank you so much. You'll never know how much I appreciate what you and Tony have done for me. I sprang all this on you yesterday and you just…just…” Tears were suddenly burning in the back of her eyes and she didn't know why. Maybe she was tired, or stressed. Or maybe she
just needed a good cry and a good friend. Or maybe her tummy hurt from so much food. Or all of it. “You've been wonderful.”

Kate's smile disappeared from her face and she stared intently at Cara. “No. It's me who has to thank you. If it hadn't been for you, Tony and I would never have gotten married. I can never thank you enough. I love him more than life itself.” She walked toward her car, stopped and turned around, shouting out to Cara, “Except when he's being a jerk about the food he serves in that restaurant.”

Cara followed Kate through the streets of Pegleg, finally turning off one tree-lined country road and onto a long laneway. She could see the red-tile roof from where she was, but little else. Live oak trees lined both sides and were so big and old their branches and leaves met in the middle and formed a majestic canopy over the lane.

When the trees broke, the mansion came to view. Three stories, stained glass, white pillars and a wraparound veranda made Cara feel as if she had walked back a century into another life.

Rosey Sullivan greeted Kate with a big hug, and when Kate introduced Cara, she received a welcoming hug as well.

It felt like being at home in the middle of her hugging, kissing Italian family.

“I'm giving you the best room,” Rosey said. “It's a corner room, with windows on the east, south and west. You'll be able to see the sun rise and set. You'll love it,” Rosey said.

“Of course she will,” Kate agreed. “Only the best for us Erie people.”

“It seems like everyone is moving down here to Pegleg,” Rosey said. “And not one of the transplants is a Texan.”

“You'll get over it, Rosey.” Kate smiled then
turned to Cara. “I've got to get home, but I'll call you later. If you feel like staying here tonight and doing nothing, I'll understand. It's an incredibly peaceful place.”

Cara picked up one bag, Rosey took the other and they walked side by side up the huge spiral staircase to the second floor, then down a long hallway until they reached the corner room.

Rosey swung open the door. Cara took one look and knew she had come home. The room was bigger than her whole apartment in Erie. The four-poster canopy bed was covered with a white eyelet quilt, big, fluffy embroidered pillows and a lace dust ruffle. A colorful wedding-ring quilt had been folded over the back of a bentwood rocker.

“It's beautiful,” Cara told her.