Elley Arden - Baby by Design

He raised his palms to her, hoping to stop the tumble, wanting to fix things enough to save him from losing his livelihood and facing Angie’s wrath. “I’m sorry. I…”

“We should have a baby together.” Trish slapped her hand over her mouth again.

Tony fidgeted in the eerie silence, and then stuffed a finger into his ear, digging around like maybe he’d heard her wrong. But was there any mistaking those words? “I’m not sure how to respond to that.”

She covered her eyes with her hands. “I know,” she whined. “Go ahead. Say it. I’m insane.” With a giant inhale, she threw her arms out to her side and slapped her palms to her head. In a blink her arms dropped to her sides and her hands disappeared into the sleeves of his suit coat. “I’ve been thinking about this, planning this a long time, but nothing prepared me for how ridiculous it would sound when I said it out loud.”

Okay, now he was worried. Maybe something happened on the back of the bike. Maybe she had been hit on the head. “You’ve been thinking about having a baby…with me…for a long time?”

She gave her head a crazy shake, one that further loosened the hair from its knot. “No. I only started thinking about having a baby with you earlier tonight, but I’ve been thinking about having a baby for two years now.” She exhaled. “Listen, I don’t expect you to fully understand. You can’t. You’re not adopted. You have blood relatives living on practically every block in Pittsburgh. But I don’t. I don’t have any. And I want one, only one. That’s all I’m asking for.” She rolled back her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Tony, I don’t want your money. I don’t want your undying love. I just want your sperm…and your family. In return, I’ll help you make one of Nonna’s wishes come true.” Air sputtered from her lips as she dropped her head.

Damn. She was serious—or at least she thought she was serious. Either way, he couldn’t bolt, which was what the pea-sized, rational part of his brain was screaming for him to do. He owed her the chance to explain—or at least to talk herself out of the craziness.

He stared at the top of her head, trying to determine his next move. All he could think was how he expected tonight to hold a proposition. He just never expected a proposition like this.

Trish wanted to drop to her knees and dig a hole where she could bury herself along with her ludicrous ideas. Any man in his right mind would run, but not before he tried to convince her to admit herself for observation at the nearest psychiatric unit.

She saw the tips of Tony’s dress shoes before she saw his hand, reaching for hers.

“Can we have this conversation inside?” He laced his fingers with hers and pulled her hand to his chest. “If I have relatives on every block in Pittsburgh, one of them is bound to see us. Can you imagine the rumors?”

She lifted her head and spit out a laugh. “Yeah, well the rumors can’t be half as crazy as the truth.”

Still he was smiling that crooked, heart-swelling grin that got her into this mess in the first place.

“Come on,” he said, tossing his head toward the door and tugging on her hand until she had no choice but to follow.

They walked the flagstone path in silence, giving Trish plenty of time to rehash her stupidity. But with her hand warmed in his, it was hard not to be hopeful. Maybe the idea wasn’t as crazy as it seemed.

At the top of the porch steps, they stopped, and Tony faced her. “Key.” He pointed to her left breast.

Trish looked at his finger, lightly touching the black fabric of his suit coat she was still wearing, and then he flipped the lapel and slipped his hand inside the pocket, all the while brushing her breast with the back of his hand.

The moment was over in two blinks, but her goose-pimpled skin lingered.

“After you,” he said, opening the front door, releasing her hand and stepping aside.

She walked into her house, stopping in the foyer, staring at the black tips of her shoes, listening to the door closing behind them.

“Point me to the kitchen. I’ll make you some tea.”

“Tea?” She turned around on the random offer.

Tony shrugged. “People in distress always drink tea on TV.” His crooked smile didn’t take the edge off the word “distress.”

“I’m not distressed, Tony, and I don’t want tea.”

“Okay.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and inhaled enough to raise his chest against the cool blue of his dress shirt. He looked bigger and stronger than she remembered, and at the moment she wished she’d never mentioned a baby.

“I’m sorry, Tony.”

“Listen, Trish. I’m the one who should be apologizing. You’re right. I pushed you. All those insinuations. The motorcycle ride. The hand up your leg…” His eyes darkened along with the dip in his cheek. “Yeah. I crossed the line.”

Maybe, but it was a line that needed to be crossed by someone if she ever wanted to have a baby. She’d spent two years so concerned with finding the appropriate candidate she never let her guard down enough to feel half the desire Tony elicited from her during one non-date.

She cleared the nerves from her throat. She could do this. She sold her ideas to hundreds of clients every year. This didn’t have to be any different. “I really hope you’ll consider crossing that line again, but first,” she clasped her hands in front of her, “hear me out.”

He raised one beautiful black brow.

“In the living room,” she said, walking away from him, hoping he’d follow.

A rush of adrenaline boosted her confidence when she didn’t hear the front door open and close. I can do this, she thought over and over again.

Stepping into the living room, she stopped on the edge of a blood red Persian rug and slipped his coat from her arms, letting it fall below her backside, hoping Tony still liked what he saw when he looked at her. Of course, hers wasn’t the usual seduction with success being a quick trip to bed. She had exactly one shot to convince this man that she was worth the trouble it would take to get her pregnant.

Trish cringed. She was an idiot.

With a sigh, she faced him and held out his coat. “I’m good. You can have this back.”

He reached for the jacket with a smile. “I can’t figure you out.”

“Just wait.” She walked to the sofa and sat, mostly because her feet hurt and her knees were weak, but partly because she expected him to leave her disappointed, and the sofa would make the perfect place to brood. “So here goes.” She sucked a mouthful of air and shot it right back out her mouth. “I’m adopted.”

“You said that.” He walked to the chair closest to her and sat, crossing his ankle over his knee, draping the suit coat across his lap.

“I want a baby.”

“You said that too.”

“Tony, stop interrupting me. This is hard enough.”

He grinned, nodded and propped his elbows on the arms of the chair, bringing his fingers to his lips. He was so embarrassingly attractive, the idea of making a baby with him had her toes curling in her shoes and heat creeping up her face.

She looked to the brilliant white crown molding over his head. “A couple years ago I decided time was running out, and if I wanted to ever have a baby I was going to have to make it a major focus. When I wasn’t working on my other major focus—design—I was systematically dating prospective husbands and fathers. I know that sounds desperate and terribly unromantic, but I tend to be a methodical person.” Tony chuckled. Trish gave him the stink eye. “Anyhow, that didn’t work so well. Everyone fell short.”

“Except me.” He grinned.

“Shush.” She would not let that grin rattle her. “I thought about a sperm bank.” Her cheeks heated again. “But not knowing either of my biological parents, it’s important to me that my child knows both of his or hers. So it was back to dating, only this time I didn’t care about finding a husband. My sole focus was to find a man I could have a baby with. No strings, really. Except I hoped he’d be willing to see the child a couple times a year. After Jackson likened having kids to having surgery without anesthesia, I was starting to give up hope, but then…”

“Me.” He rested his folded hands in his lap.

“You.” Trish nodded. “All the talk about Nonna’s list, and your comment about wanting kids but not the marriage. And…the chemistry between us.” She studied the crown molding again. “I had to ask. You may be my best shot.”

“I’m flattered.”

“But you still think I’m crazy.”

“No, I get why you want a baby, and I respect that you’ve given it a lot of thought.”

“But you don’t want to have a baby with me.”

He laughed, stood and crossed the carpet to settle on the sofa beside her where he wrapped his hands around hers. “There’s still more to think about.”

“Like?”

His thumbs traced tiny circles on her knuckles. “What’ll Ange say about this?”

Trish managed a painful swallow as she watched Tony’s thumbs swirl. She wished the luscious sensation of being held in his hands outweighed the sickening sensation of imagining Angie’s reaction to the news. “She wasn’t happy I asked you to the wedding.”

“Exactly. Vin wasn’t happy either. We could screw up a lot here, Trish.”

She knew that, but she knew something else, too. “Think of Nonna, Tony.” Trish squeezed his hands. “And what if we had a son? We could do a lot of good here, too.”

Tony didn’t think Trish was crazy, but he might be. Sitting on the couch beside her with the proposition floating between them, he was 99 percent in favor of having a baby with her. It would certainly solve his problem of what big, happy contribution he could make to Nonna’s wish list. And heck, he wasn’t getting any younger. Thirty-three wasn’t old, but if he waited for the urge to do things the traditional way, it would be too late.