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He understood completely. “Sure, I’ll go.”
When they reached her building, she stopped and pulled out her keys. “Thanks for walking me home. Do you want to come up for a bit?”
He shoved his hands into his pants pockets, suddenly filled with nervous energy. This was his chance. He forced the words out. “Sure. I kinda wanted to talk to you about something, anyway.”
“Okay.” Marisa started up the stairs to her apartment above the shop. As they stopped in the hall outside her door, the door to the adjacent apartment opened a crack, snapping tightly against half-a-dozen security chains. A single eyeball peered out.
“It’s just us, Mr. Kloppman,” she called. “Marisa and Jake.”
“Hand please,” a muffled voice ordered, and a small metal cheese grater slid through the opening. Obediently Marisa held out her hand and the grater hovered briefly over her palm. “Next.”
Jake did the same. When Mr. Kloppman appeared confident they were who they claimed to be, he slid the chains free and opened the door.
“Can’t be too careful,” he said, his eyes shifting nervously up and down the short hallway. “I saw it on the news. They can change shape, look or sound like anyone.”
Behind her, Jake chuckled and Marisa elbowed him sharply in the gut. “Have you been watching X-Files again, Mr. Kloppman?”
He shook his head. “Heck no. This was on the late news last night. You keep your doors locked. It’s not safe.” He backed into his apartment, again checking the short stretch of the hallway. “Trust no one,” he said as the door snapped shut.
“That guy is certifiable,” Jake said, after they were safely inside her apartment with the door locked. “I’m afraid he’s going to snap one of these days and hurt someone.”
“He’s harmless. Besides, his daughter pays the rent on time every month and as long as he lives next door I never have to worry about an alarm system.” Clearing a week’s worth of newspapers off the couch, Marisa collapsed onto the overstuffed cushions, stretching out her legs. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”
Jake sat across from her in the leather recliner and leaned forward, hands clasped between his knees. “It’s about what happened today at lunch.”
Marisa’s heart began to hammer wildly in her chest. “I’ve been thinking about that, too.”
“It’s pretty much the only thing I’ve been thinking about. How about you?”
“Me, too.”
“Is it just me, or do you get the feeling that somehow the dynamics of our entire relationship have changed?”
She didn’t want things to change, but she couldn’t deny that something was different. Looking down at her hands, she nodded.
“In that case, I think Lucy is right,” he said. “I should be the father of your baby.”
Four
Marisa’s head snapped up. “I beg your pardon?”
“I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I would be the perfect man to father your child.”
She realized her mouth was hanging open and closed it. The idea of having Jake’s baby had been funny when Lucy suggested it. Funny in a “yeah, like that would ever happen” way. But this was Jake suggesting it, looking at her as if…as if he was seriously considering it.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Think about it,” he said. “What was the main reason we decided it would be a bad idea? We were afraid things would get weird. That we would feel differently about our relationship. But that’s already happened.”
He had a point. She did feel different, and as much as she’d like to believe otherwise, with the progression of her condition, this could be her last chance to have a baby.
“Look,” he said, “you want to raise a child on your own, no husband or significant other, right?”
“Absolutely.”
“I don’t want a wife and kids—ever. You’re not going to find too many men willing to permanently give up their parental rights. But you know me. You can trust me.”
“I don’t doubt that you would honor any agreement we made. But you’re talking about creating a life, Jake—a baby. You do understand that?”
“Of course I do. You would be an amazing mother, Marisa. You deserve that chance.”
“Maybe I’m not making myself clear. We’re talking about sex. You and me, having sex. Together.”
“Are you trying to say that you wouldn’t want to have sex with me? That you find me unappealing?”
“No! No, it’s not that at all. Jeez, what woman wouldn’t find you appealing?”
“As far as the gene pool goes, I know I don’t come from the best stock—”
“Your genes are just fine.” She leaned forward, clasping his hands firmly between her own. “I would be proud to carry your child. My biggest fear—my only fear—is that it might damage our friendship.”
“You’re my dearest friend, nothing could ever change that.”
She’d never seen him look so serious, so sincere. He made it sound simple—have sex, make a baby.
Maybe it sounded too simple.
“You realize that this isn’t necessarily a one-shot deal. It could take months,” she said. “A year even. If it happens at all.”
He nodded solemnly. “I understand. I’m in it for the long haul.”
“And we would have to establish some ground rules. So things don’t get…confusing. Because things could get awfully confusing, Jake. This is going to change everything.”
“I think setting rules is a good idea.”
“Can you promise me that, no matter what, this will not damage our friendship? You can handle this?”
“I can handle it. I promise.” He squeezed her hands. “I want to do this for you.”
He could handle it, but could she? She knew she should take her time, think this over for a while. She also knew deep in her heart the decision was already made. There had never been a doubt.
“Okay,” she agreed. “Let’s do it.”
Marisa set her wine on the coffee table, dug a legal pad from under a pile of newspapers and pulled a purple gel pen from between the couch cushions. “Are you ready?”
Jake nodded. “Can I take the first one?”
She marked a big purple One on the first line, noting that her hands had finally stopped shaking but her stomach was still a maze of tightly bound knots. Excitement, nerves, fear—she couldn’t recall ever feeling so many intense emotions all at once.
“I say that we have to be totally honest with each other at all times if this is going to work. Even about things that might make us uncomfortable.”
“Okay, rule number one—total honesty. And I think our number two rule should be that we only, um…do it—”
“Time out.” He held his hands up in a tee shape. “Before we go any further, we should establish what it is we’re going to be doing.”
She arched a brow at him. “Let me guess, you missed that chapter in Health class?”
He leaned forward and swatted her foot playfully. “Very funny. I meant, we should decide what to call it. Sex, doing it—there are dozens of ways to label it. I think we should pick one, and stick to it. To keep things consistent.”
His relaxed attitude did little to ease her nerves. He seemed awfully open-minded about this. Almost too open-minded. Like he did this kind of thing all the time.
“What do you think we should call it?”
He rubbed his chin. “Well, to say that it’s just sex seems a little cold considering our main objective. When you’re holding your baby, and you look back on his or her conception, I want it to be with good feelings.”
Her throat tightened and grateful tears burned behind her eyes. “That is so sweet.”
He caught and held her gaze, his eyes gentle and full of understanding. “I want to do this right. I love you, and I like to think that you love me, too.”
She plucked a tissue from a box on the coffee table and wiped her eyes. “You know I do.”
“Then, I think we should say we’re making love—if you’re comfortable with that. Even though we’re not in love, we do love each other. Right?”
“Okay, from now on it’s making love.”
“Settled,” he said. “Back to rule number two.”
“I think we should agree that we only, um, make love during the period of time that I’m ovulating. You know, since that’s the only reason we’re doing this.”
He paused for a second, and she could swear she saw a flash of disappointment. Then he nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”
“And rule number three, so it’s consistent, we should establish where we make love, and number four, agree that afterward we go home. No sleepovers. Again, that could complicate things.”
“Since it stands to reason that at some point we’ll be making love at night, I think it should be here. I don’t want you to have to worry about getting home afterward, and I’m just guessing about this, but you probably want to stay off your feet. So everything stays where it’s supposed to.”
“That’s a good point. I never even considered that.” She jotted it down. The next one was going to be tough. “Number five, and think good and hard about this one, because you could be looking at a year or more. No sleeping with anyone else while we’re involved. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but with all the nasty diseases out there, I can’t take any chances. We’re going to be having a lot of unprotected sex.”
“Can I date other women?”
She tried not to let the question sting. She’d been expecting it, especially after the incident in the bar tonight, and it was only fair. “I don’t see why not. As long as you don’t sleep with them.”
With hardly any consideration, he nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”
“You’re sure?”
He looked hurt by her skepticism. “Of course I’m sure. I know everyone thinks I’m some superstud, but it’s actually very rare that I take a woman to bed. And just so you know, when I do, I always use a condom—no exceptions.”
“I believe you.”
“And that brings us to the next rule. Keeping this to ourselves.”
She had a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. He didn’t want people to know they were sleeping together. That shouldn’t have surprised her. After all, he had his superstud reputation to protect. It still hurt a little. “If you think that’s best.”
“Until you decide what you want to tell the kid when he’s older, we should keep it quiet. In my business, these things have a way of getting around.”
Shame burned her cheeks. Why did she automatically assume the worst? Here he was considering the best interests of the baby and she’d taken it as personal insult.
“At some point we will have to figure out how we want to handle that,” she said. “You know, when he or she asks why Dad isn’t around.”
“That’ll be phase two, after we actually get you pregnant.”
“Fair enough. That puts us at number seven.” She grabbed her wineglass and took a hearty swig. She hadn’t said a word and already her cheeks were on fire. God, she hadn’t blushed this much since she was twelve. “Um…”
“Total honesty,” he reminded her.
“It’s important that you don’t…pleasure yourself for the two weeks before I ovulate. It’s the only way to keep your sperm count up. The more sperm, the better chance I have of conceiving.”
He winced. “Two weeks, huh?”
“It’s what all of the literature on the subject says to do. Sorry.”
“No, don’t be sorry. I’ll survive.” He looked up at her, his smile playful. “I don’t suppose that same rule applies to you.”
“Um, I don’t know…”
Jake laughed. “Marisa, I was joking. If you want to make yourself feel good, go right ahead. Maybe, to make up for my torturous two weeks of celibacy, you’ll let me watch you.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He had to be joking. He didn’t really expect her to—
Oh my God, what if he did? Maybe he was used to that kind of thing.
“Marisa, relax, I was kidding.”
She let out a shaky breath. “Sorry, I guess I’m just a little nervous about all of this.”
“Don’t be. We’re good friends. We’ve done practically everything else together. Do you get nervous when we have a picnic in the park, or go see a movie?”
“Of course not.”
“Then try to think of this as one more thing we’re doing as friends.”
Friends who have sex?
Well, she’d never had a friend like that before. What kind of sex did friends have, anyway? Going-through-the-motions, let’s-get-this-over-with sex, or pulse-pounding, mind-blowing passionate sex? And suppose he wanted pulse-pounding sex, but she didn’t know how to pleasure him? She didn’t want him to be disappointed, or after two whole weeks of waiting walk away unsatisfied.
Worst of all, what if he looked at her body and was completely turned off?
Jake sat down next to her on the couch and draped an arm over her shoulder. She tried not to tighten every muscle in her body as the weight of his thigh pressed against her own and sent little tingles up and down her leg. He’d sat this close lots of times and it had never made her tingle before. Not in the past ten years, anyway.
No. She refused to let herself blow this out of proportion. Forcing herself to relax, she let her head drop on his shoulder. There, that was nice.
Hmm, very nice.
“Is that it?” he asked, taking the legal pad from her.
“I think we covered just about everything. We can always add to it later.”
“We have seven rules. Maybe that’s lucky.”
Yeah, maybe they would get lucky and conceive in the first month. “Jake, I want you to know how much I appreciate this.”
“I know you do.” He squeezed her shoulder. “I think it’s going to work out real well.”
“Me, too.”
“Although I do have just one more question.”
“What’s that?”
He looked down at her with a grin that could make a woman forget her own name. “When do we get started?”
Jake leaned over the console in the control room, wincing as his crotch bumped the hard metal edge.
He’d been daydreaming about Marisa again—more to the point, making love to Marisa. Since she’d begun testing for ovulation every afternoon, he’d thought about little else.
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