“Let me get this straight. You are going to be artificially inseminated and you picked Jack Worth as the donor.” Tess’s tone made it sound as if Maddie had just announced her resignation, was giving away her house and she’d decided to join a religious cult in the desert of New Mexico.
“Yes,” Maddie said, knowing her opinionated friend wasn’t through and would not hesitate to let her views be known. “But don’t say a word about a possible pregnancy. I don’t want anyone here to know yet.”
She had ordered lunch for the two of them from the Hawg & Dawg, a nearby hole-in-the-wall barbecue place that combined Atlanta’s love of barbecue with the owner’s love of Georgia Bulldog football. This way she could reveal her plan to Tess in the privacy of her office and ask for her friend’s help with drafting a quasi-legal contract to protect her and her child.
“Oh my God, Maddie, that man is wicked gorgeous.” Tess fanned herself in an exaggerated manner. “I was at a party at the Ritz Carlton once and he walked in. He turned women’s heads all the way from the door to the bar, and if he swung that way, he could have had the bartender eating out of his hand in ten seconds flat. You’d better watch out because once women find out he’s in the sperm donor business, he’ll be at the top of the request list, and oh my God, that means he will be making money hand over fist.”
Maddie sighed. “That’s exactly what Jack said. Both of you are sick.”
Tess threw back her head and laughed wickedly as Maddie’s cheeks flushed with color. “You two are going to make a beautiful baby.”
She and Tess were supposed to be drafting a document that would waive Jack’s right to custody of any child or children resulting from his sperm donation. He would also waive his financial responsibility since she was fully capable of supporting herself and a baby.
Legally, it represented little more than a handshake on paper; Maddie’s only interest was getting pregnant, not setting up housekeeping with Jack.
After Tess’s statement, perhaps she should also require that he not donate for anyone but her. She didn’t want her child to have half-siblings running all over Atlanta, but for all she knew, that could be the case anyway.
She wondered if any of Jack’s romantic conquests had resulted in pregnancy. She’d ask him. This was a business deal, not a love affair. She had a right to know these things, didn’t she? Of course, Jack also had a future right to father children if he so desired. Legally, she had no control over his testicles.
“Stick to business,” Maddie warned. “We only have an hour to get a good start on this. I have a brief to file this afternoon and need to leave for the courthouse no later than one-fifteen.”
“Brief, huh? Do you know if Jack wears briefs or boxers? I’ve heard that briefs can interfere with good sperm production.”
Maddie groaned aloud, aware that her friend was just as prone to veering off subject as Jack had been at her house the night she’d delivered her decision.
“And I wouldn’t mind debriefing him at all,” Tess said, continuing with the legal humor. “But of course, I’d never step in on your territory. I’ll just have to find myself another hunk.”
“Jack isn’t my territory. I don’t want anything but his sperm.”
“Still, I wouldn’t want the father of my baby going out with my best friend, not that I’d ever go out with him anyway. I like my men a little more urbane.”
Maddie thought about Tess’s statement and wondered why she suddenly felt defensive about Jack. He was courteous and stylish in his own rugged way. “Jack won’t really be the baby’s father. Not in any emotional sense. He’ll just provide half the chromosomes and determine whether it’s a boy or girl.”
“You never did tell me why you decided to use him rather than a sperm bank.”
“It’s complicated,” Maddie said, snagging a potato chip from the bag she and Tess were sharing. “Let’s just say the pros outweighed the cons and leave it at that.”
“I was just kind of stunned to hear you wanted to have a baby. I know it’s none of my business, but—”
“You’re right. It isn’t any of your business.” Maddie shoved her unfinished pork sandwich back in the restaurant bag and tossed it in the wastebasket. Her appetite had disappeared, and what little of the sandwich she’d eaten sat heavily in her stomach. Her baby decision had been a difficult one, and the inclusion of Jack added another layer of complexity. She owed no one an explanation, not even Tess. Especially not Tess, who was as fierce in the courtroom as Maddie was; Maddie didn’t want a cross-examination to reveal that she found Jack wicked gorgeous, too.
Tess stiffened and stood, then began gathering the remainder of her lunch and her notes. “We’ll finish this later.”
“Wait. Don’t go. It is your business because you’re my best friend and you’re handling this paperwork for me.” Maddie’s voice quivered slightly. “Can you forgive me?”
Tess returned to her place across the desk from Maddie.
“Only if you forgive me for opening my big mouth. It’s an affliction I struggle with daily.”
“It’s a deal,” Maddie said, chewing on her bottom lip in an attempt to quell the threatening tears. “Alex and I always wanted a family. We had so much love for each other and wanted to share it with a child.”
“You don’t have to tell me this,” Tess insisted.
“Yes, I do. I need you to know why I’m doing this. We’d started talking about kids right before Alex got sick, and then everything happened so fast. Before I could catch my breath he was gone. I looked at the calendar a few months ago and realized he’d been dead almost a year. Then I helped Sylvia Dennis with the work she did for a fertility clinic here and it sparked an idea. So what if most women get a husband first and the baby next? There’s no law saying it has to be done in that order. And besides, I have no matrimonial candidates lined up, so I’m going to reverse the process—baby first and then a husband, if the right one comes along.”
Tess leaned forward in her chair. “You do know you’ll get some grief from certain segments of society.”
“Yeah, and you’ll be right there defending me, won’t you?”
“Absolutely, but I refuse to change diapers,” she stated emphatically before a glint of amusement flared in her eyes.
Maddie chuckled and then sobered again. “If I do marry again, I want another man like Alex. One who loved me more than life itself, who treated me with respect. One who put my happiness above his own and never—” She stopped abruptly before she gave away too much about her childhood. “Maybe I’ll get as lucky a second time, but until I do, I don’t want to take chances with my reproductive system. I’m thirty-three, and while that’s not old, every year I wait diminishes my chances of pregnancy. So I decided to go ahead and just do it.”
“And you’re sure Jack is the right man for the job?”
“Positive,” she insisted. “If you can work up a rough draft, I can give it to Jack when I see him the day after tomorrow.”
“I’ll have it for you in forty-eight hours and it’ll be as binding as legally possible. You have my word.”
* * *
Two days later Maddie’s cell phone beeped as she approached her car in the parking lot at Hightower, Leggett and Beck. One of the few non-skyscrapers in downtown Atlanta, the three-story building was dwarfed on all sides. Evan Hightower turned down million-dollar purchase offers weekly in favor of keeping the law firm founded by his grandfather housed in warm and inviting quarters instead of an impersonal and sterile glass and steel tower.
Two blocks from Peachtree Street and less than two miles from the county court house, the office building was also convenient to Maddie’s home, something that would be important once there was a baby in the picture. She intended to continue her career, especially her work as an advocate for children. She’d already begun inquiring about nannies so her child could grow up in its own home instead of an institutional day care center.
She pulled her smartphone from her purse and brought it to life. A tap on the screen revealed a voice message from Jack.
Sorry, but I’m running late. I couldn’t get a reservation at Bruno’s. Call me and we’ll figure out another place to meet.
She must have missed his call during her second meeting with Tess, who’d apologized again for opening her big mouth and had then been the bearer of some unsettling information.
She and Jack had planned to meet at an Italian restaurant near her home in the Virginia Highland section of Atlanta. Operating in one of the original commercial “villages” in the area, Bruno’s had been a favorite of Alex’s and they’d dined there with Jack and Millie several times.
Since she had bad news to deliver to Jack about their arrangement, Maddie had at least wanted to deliver it in familiar surroundings with good food. Top-notch cuisine had a way of softening a blow, though this was more a blow to Maddie than to Jack.
She pressed the call back icon, and he answered after the first ring.
“Where are you?” he asked. “I’m heading in on the 400 and I’m almost to the office. I thought maybe you could meet me at Little Sicily, an Italian place a couple blocks from my office. It’s not Bruno’s, but it’s good. It’s across the street from Hooters. If you have trouble finding it, just stop and ask. Everyone knows where Hooters are. Is.” Jack laughed at his faux pas. “At least I hope they do.”
“I’m not sure Hooters is the best landmark to use.” Maddie laughed to cover her annoyance.
“Sure it is. Just ask any guy ’cause he’ll know where they are. Anyway, how long do you think it’ll take you to get there? I might be able to swing by the office and shower off some of this dirt. We broke ground today on that house I was telling you about last month.”
Maddie’s annoyance quickly disappeared and was replaced by a vision of Jack standing under a shower, hot water cascading over his neck and shoulders and running down to his—
A soft moan escaped before she could stop it.
“You okay, Maddie?”
“Yeah. Sure,” she lied. “My shoulders are just stiff from too much computer work.” Jack. Hot. Stiff. Not a good thought.
“You’ll need to be careful of that once you’re pregnant.”
Maddie dug her keys out of her purse and mashed the remote to unlock the silver coupe, which had been a fourth anniversary gift from Alex. By their sixth, he was gone.
As she threw her briefcase into the backseat, she realized the automobile wouldn’t be very baby-friendly. Getting an infant in and out of a rear-facing car seat in the back of a two-door car would be awkward. She mentally added new car to the ever-growing list of changes she’d have to make once a baby entered the picture.
“So how long do you think it will take you to get to the restaurant?” Jack asked.
Maddie realized she’d been wool gathering and calculated the distance, factored in five o’clock traffic and added a little extra time to search for the location. “Forty-five minutes. Maybe a little longer.”
“Great. That’ll give me time to change. If you get there before me, go ahead and get a table.”
* * *
Jack stripped out of his filthy jeans and t-shirt and then hooked his thumbs in the sides of his briefs. Scraping them over his hips and down his legs, he kicked them on the pile of other soiled clothes and stepped into the steaming shower. Construction was dirty work, even for the boss, and he’d never regretted the decision to remodel the Prescott-Worth office space and add a full bathroom.
Now that he was sole owner, he’d thought about putting a futon in what had been Alex’s office so he’d have a place to sleep when he’d worked too late and didn’t want to drive to his condo.
Sole owner. Who’d ever believe Jack Worth owned his own business? And a legitimate business at that. He’d heard one of his old high school drinking buddies was doing five years in prison for cocaine possession, and another had been killed robbing a convenience store.
During a really stupid period in his life, Jack had vandalized a house being built by one of the good guys. A guy who let him work off the damage, then hired him and eventually let him buy a ten-percent share of the business. When Alex died, Jack had first right of refusal when Maddie decided to sell the business. The pay-off from the life insurance he and Alex had on each other allowed him to buy her out without going into debt. But he would gladly return to being second in command any day to have his friend back working beside him.
After washing the dust from his body and scrubbing his hair and scalp, he rinsed and allowed the hot water to relax his tired muscles. Aware that Maddie was en route to the restaurant, he didn’t linger like he usually did. He twisted the faucets, slid open the glass door and pulled a towel from the towel bar. Rubbing it first over his hair, he then ran the thick material over his body until he was dry.
He tossed the towel over the shower door and walked naked to the small vanity against the opposite wall. Wiping away the steam with his hand, he peered into the mirror and used his fingers to brush his hair into place. Satisfied he didn’t need to shave, he swished some mouthwash around and then spit it in the sink. He dressed in the clothing he’d worn to the office that morning—khaki pants, black polo shirt and loafers. Wrapping the leather band around his wrist, he fastened his watch and noted he had five minutes to spare before meeting Maddie.
He spotted her at a corner table and worked his way through the Friday night dinner crowd to join her. She wore a jacket made from some material that looked like the upholstery on his grandmother’s couch—gray with a flowery design and lapels edged with dark red. The blouse underneath was solid gray and cut low enough for Jack to see where her silver necklace nestled into a hint of cleavage. Her skirt stopped a few inches short of her knee. She had crossed her legs and a black high-heel dangled from the foot that kept time with the music playing over the sound system.
Staring vacantly at the menu and sipping from a glass of red wine, she failed to see Jack approach and jumped slightly when he spoke, spilling a few drops of wine down the front of her blouse.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said as he grabbed a napkin and reached toward her to dab at the spill. As his hand neared her chest, he reconsidered and pressed the square of starched cotton into her hand.
“Send me your dry-cleaning bill,” he urged as he watched her wipe at the stain, sorry he wasn’t cleaning it himself. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.” He needed to change the subject before he embarrassed himself with thoughts of her breasts.
“You didn’t,” she replied curtly, returning her gaze to the menu and running her finger down the catalog of pasta selections.
Jack studied her lack of facial expression and rigid posture. “Have I said or done something wrong? Are you mad because I asked you to meet me here? Oh wait. It was the Hooter’s remark, wasn’t it?”
“No, you haven’t said or done anything wrong. And I’m not mad about driving here. This is a nice place. I think I’m going to have one of the veal dishes as a matter of fact.” She closed the menu and reached for her wine glass.
“So it was the Hooter’s remark. If I promise to start behaving will you look at me and let me apologize to your face?”
“It wasn’t the Hooter’s remark. And I’m not mad, so will you just drop it and see if you can get the waiter’s attention because I’m starving.”
Jack wasn’t buying her explanation. Something bugged the hell out of her and he would find out what. But first he’d wine and dine her. Maybe she’d be more cooperative with a full stomach.
He signaled a waiter and placed their orders—veal piccata for her and a rare steak for him. They ate in relative silence, the meal punctuated solely by Jack’s periodic comments about the food, the weather, the company’s latest project and the bank robbery in broad daylight, which had dominated the TV news for the past week. The masked man in the surveillance videos was probably one of his high school friends.
When they finished their meals and the waiter had removed their plates and replaced them with cups of dark, steaming coffee, Jack decided he’d waited long enough.
“What’s going on, Maddie?” he asked as he poured half-and-half into his cup and stirred. “And don’t tell me it’s nothing. You haven’t said a dozen words since you ordered me to drop it, and given that we were supposed to talk about the details of our arrangement tonight, I’m wondering if you’ve changed your mind and just don’t want to tell me that I don’t need to make my ‘bank deposit.’” Jack used his fingers to make air quotes.
Maddie blinked rapidly and Jack watched as two fat tears escaped and left damp trails down her face. Ah hell, he’d done it again. After his smart-ass performance in her kitchen earlier in the week, he’d vowed to straighten up and stop acting like a jerk. He’d spent the first eighteen years of his life behaving like a juvenile delinquent, and his last stupid stunt had nearly landed him in jail.
He’d spent the years since making up for his actions and proving to everyone he wasn’t the same screw-up everyone at his high school had called “Worthless Worth.”
That stunt was the reason he had gone to work for Alex Prescott, the reason he’d become Alex’s partner and the reason he sat across from the man’s crying widow.
“Is that it? You’ve changed your mind?” He watched one tear reach her chin and fought the urge to reach out and wipe it away. “Aw, honey. It’s okay if you want to use an anonymous donor.”
Maddie fumbled in her pocket and pulled out a tissue. She dabbed at her cheeks then wadded the tissue in her fist. “It’s not that I’ve changed my mind. I’ve sort of had it changed for me.”
“What do you mean you had it changed for you? This whole baby thing is your choice,” he said with quiet emphasis.
Maddie let out a long, audible breath. “Tess called me into her office just before I left work. That’s why I missed your call.”
“And what does Tess have to do with all this?”
“She was drawing up a contract for me to have you sign—”
“Contract? I didn’t think friends had to sign contracts with each other.”
“They do when a child is involved. It’s nothing major—just something to protect you.”
“Why would I need to be protected? We’re both going into this deal with all the facts. I visit a closet with a paper cup and a copy of Hustler, your doctor does his thing and whammo, you’re pregnant. What’s to protect?”
“Well, it doesn’t really matter now because there won’t be paper cups or whammos or anything. The whole thing is off. I appreciate your offer. Really I do, Jack. I know it was awkward for you, and it was really sweet of you to agree to it. And in case you’re still thinking about that promise you made to Alex, consider it paid in full.”
She reached for her purse and pushed her chair away from the table. “It’s getting late and I should be going.”
“You still haven’t answered my question. What do you mean you had your mind changed for you? What happened?”
Maddie slumped against the back of her chair, a look of defeat playing across her face. “Tess told me Judge Benson, the judge who’s been appointing me as guardian ad litem, had a heart attack and has been replaced while he recuperates.”
“Guardian ad what?”
“Guardian ad litem,” she explained, twirling the wine glass stem between her thumb and index finger. “When a divorce gets really nasty the court will often appoint an attorney—a guardian ad litem—to represent the best interest of the child during the litigation. With the divorce rate as high as it is, probably a quarter of my caseload is GAL work. It’s important to me. Kids don’t ask to be put in the middle of divorcing parents and they need an advocate who works solely for them.”
“So your judge was replaced. I don’t see how this affects our arrangement.”
“The new judge is Thomas Jefferson Ward. And yes, that’s really his name. I’ve been before him and he’s a misogynistic jerk; he doesn’t think women should be lawyers, never mind single pregnant lawyers. Tess told me about Cynthia Hadley, a wonderful attorney, who he dismissed as a GAL last week. No one would be able to prove why he did it, but I can’t take the chance he might decide to use me as his next case-in-point.”
“But he can’t do that, can he? I mean that would be discrimination or a violation of your civil rights or something, wouldn’t it?”
“If we were talking about hiring or firing, yes. But GAL appointments fall between the cracks in civil rights law. He can simply choose to not appoint me anymore and there’s nothing I can do.”
“As much as that sucks, how badly will that affect your income? If you lose that quarter of your work load?” he asked.
“It isn’t the money, Jack. It’s the work. The children I defend when their parents are so blinded by hatred for each other they don’t care that their child feels like she’s caught in cannon fire. This is the reason I became an attorney. I didn’t want to chase ambulances or try murder suspects. I wanted to make sure no other child was used as a pawn between two selfish people.”
“So this Thomas Jefferson Ward can just decide he doesn’t like that you’re pregnant and single—never mind your husband died before you could have kids—and you lose the part of your job that matters most.”
“Yes,” she said, her voice just above a whisper.
Take care of her, Jack. Promise me.
Alex’s words resonated clearly in Jack’s mind—as clearly as the day Alex had spoken them from the hospital bed set up in their den.
Jack had spent the last year keeping tabs on Maddie as closely as possible. Millie often played the part of unwitting informant when he subtly pumped her for information. If Tess Callahan didn’t scare the daylights out of him, he’d tap her for information, too.
Then, when faced with what he considered a crazy move, Jack had offered to become a sperm donor for Maddie. To protect her, he’d told himself. No one would’ve known. Well, tonight he’d learned that Tess was in on the plan, and Lord knows that fact made him more than a little antsy.
Take care of her, Jack. Promise me.
Jack shut his eyes, willing the voice to go away. Willing the rogue plan beginning to formulate in his brain to stop formulating. It was a ridiculous idea. One he was sure Maddie would never agree to. But maybe, if she saw it as a way to save the work she was so obviously passionate about…
That was the only reason Jack even considered it. He’d seen the pain in Maddie’s eyes. Heard the anguish in her voice. It didn’t have to be “‘til death do us part,” even though he’d questioned more than once her willingness to raise a child with no father in the picture.
Illegitimacy wasn’t the stigma it had once been. And in Atlanta no one batted an eye over a single mother. No one, apparently, but Thomas Jefferson Ward.
People like him had made Jack’s childhood hell. Called him a bastard and made him feel like he’d done something wrong. He’d never had an advocate fight for him, and if he had anything to do with it, the kids of Atlanta wouldn’t lose the one who sat across the table from him now.
Jack chose his words carefully. “Hear me out, Maddie. I know a way for you to have a child and keep Judge Ward happy too.”
Maddie’s brow furrowed with confusion. “I’ve wracked my brain and I can’t think of a single way.”
“What if you had a husband? Then your conservative judge would have no reason not to appoint you. Right?”
“Right. But I don’t have a husband, remember? That’s why you were going to donate sperm.”
Jack inhaled deeply and held the breath until his lungs burned. He forced the air out and prepared to state his case.
“You’d have a husband if you and I got married.”
Maddie froze in place for several seconds before managing a choked laugh. “Married? You and me?”
“Yeah. You and me. And a baby would make three. We’d stay married long enough to satisfy Judge Ward or until the other judge came back to work. It’d be a marriage for convenience only. You get the child you want and Judge Ward has no reason to keep you from being a guardian ad whatever.”
She shook her head and then stared at him again. “You’re serious.”
“As serious as the heart attack that sidelined your judge. Think about it, Maddie. Go home and sleep on it. Talk it over with Tess. It’s the perfect solution.”
* * *
Jack leaned against the fender of his pick-up in the restaurant parking lot after seeing her safely to her car and making her promise she’d call the minute she pulled into her garage.
It’s perfectly crazy. Her last words repeated in his mind as he watched the taillights of her car disappear. He knew what she was probably thinking. Same thing he was thinking. He wasn’t right for her. He was Mr. Wrong, Wrong, Wrong. The kind of man her husband wanted Jack to protect her from.
Marriage? What on earth made him think he was husband material—much less cut out to be a father?
He’d picked one hell of a way to keep a promise.