Mission: Marriage. Hannah Bernard
as if trying to determine how trustworthy he was.
“I don’t know you, do I?” she said at last, in a low voice. “The idea of putting my entire future in your hands is a bit…risky. I don’t think this was a good idea.”
“Your entire future?” What on earth could she have in mind? Thomas leaned toward her again, intrigued—and a bit nervous. “I’m becoming really curious here. What are you talking about?”
“Promise not to laugh?”
The request was childish enough to pull a smile out of him. “Yeah, I promise.”
“I want a baby,” she stated, and he nearly fell off his chair in shock. She didn’t elaborate, just looked at him steadily.
Maybe he hadn’t heard right. “You want what?”
She didn’t answer, just stared at him with the look that reminded him of the big bad wolf.
He’d heard right the first time, hadn’t he?
“You want a baby,” he said, fighting back an impulse to check if the path to the exit was clear. This couldn’t be what he thought it was. She couldn’t be approaching a stranger, asking him to father her child. Women didn’t do that, even after too many drinks. It was impossible. So impossible that there was no need for him to panic. “Okay.” He nodded at her. “You want a baby. I’m with you so far.”
And he wasn’t laughing. This wasn’t a laughing matter at all. If he did anything at all, it would be hyper-ventilating.
“I want a baby so bad,” she blurted out. “It’s crazy. I don’t know where this came from, it must be biological, but it’s about all I can think about. And you see, I’ve finally grown up. I no longer believe in romance, in Mr. Right. If he exists at all, he obviously gave up waiting and settled down with Ms. Wrong a long time ago. He’s not showing. I need to be practical about this. If I want children, a family, I can’t afford to wait much longer.”
“I see.”
“I’m thirty. Almost thirty,” she amended. “Last year I ended a relationship, the only real relationship I’ve ever been in. Since then, my entire track record consists of the date you just witnessed.”
Thomas nodded. “What have I got to do with this?” He’d just say no. She couldn’t force him to…donate sperm, or whatever it was she had in mind. No problem. He’d just hear her question and say a polite no thank you. No big deal.
He leaned back and crossed his arms, waiting for the ax to fall. The things he got himself involved in.
His fear was obviously written all over him, as Lea’s worried face turned surprised for a moment, and then she started laughing. “Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head so hard that her dark hair swirled around her face. “Absolutely not. That’s not it.”
“What?” he asked, unwilling to allow her to read his mind. “What’s not it?”
She was still laughing. “Relax, Thomas, it’s okay. I promise that I’m not about to ask you to father my baby.”
“You’re not?”
Her eyes sparkled, but she bit her lip and her laughter came to a hiccupy end. “No. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Or make you think I was completely crazy—again. Oh, God…no. I’d never ask a stranger. And certainly not someone like you.”
“Someone like me?”
“You’re a multidater, remember? Practice makes perfect and all that? You’re a player. Right? You’re not looking to settle down any time soon, if ever?”
“Oh. That. Yes. Right.”
She nodded. “Exactly. And I don’t want anything to do with men like that. So you’re quite safe from me. What I want is a family, so I want to find someone stable, responsible, someone who wants the same thing. You’re entirely unsuitable.” She grinned at him in a way that despite his apprehension spiked his nervous interest even more.
“Let me get this straight: you want to find someone to have children with?”
She nodded. “Yeah. But not just that. I want what everybody has—a family. Not much to ask, is it? Everybody’s doing it without much effort. I’m talking about getting involved in a serious, stable relationship that eventually might involve having a family. Not just finding someone to impregnate me.”
She said the last sentence as if it were something totally unthinkable, but he wasn’t convinced. It certainly didn’t sound like she was looking for a love match.
“Okay.” He leaned back, not feeling much more comfortable knowing he was “unsuitable.” “And if I’m neither genetic material nor husband material, how is it that I come into this?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” she asked, impatient. “You know everything about this. I have to go through the dating process to find someone. You can help me cut down on the dreadful part.”
“I’m not following. How would I help you through it all?”
She leaned toward him again, her eyes sincere. “It’s simple. I’ve never really dated in my life. I want you to teach me how to. What the rules are, how to behave, what to do when, how to read men, what they want and what they mean…it’s all a mystery to me. Additionally, I don’t trust my own judgment anymore. Men aren’t the same on a first date and two years into a marriage. Maybe there are hints. Clues. You know.”
“I see,” he managed to get out.
“You’re probably thinking about what’s in it for you. I’d hire you, as a consultant. We hire consultants all the time at work. I’ll pay you what they’re being paid. Which is a small fortune, by the way. And I suppose you could look at this as a learning experience too. You’d get to see things from the woman’s point of view.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“If you agree to do this, I will pay you. I’m not asking for a favor, I’m asking to hire you. I need your expertise. This is serious business to me, not a game.”
He shook his head, feeling disoriented. “Why me?”
She was leaning toward him, excitement in her voice and her face. “You know what you’re doing, don’t you? You know the dating scene, what’s done and what’s not done. You have insight into the male mind that I lack.” She fell silent for a moment before adding: “Will you do it?”
He was pretty close to speechless. “I…don’t know.”
She shrugged, but there was disappointment in her eyes that he didn’t like seeing. “You don’t have to make up your mind right this minute, of course. You can think about it for a while if you want.”
“I still don’t understand why you’re asking me. Why you think I’m the perfect man for this job. I’m sure you know some single men who could give you hints. Any men, for that matter, they all were single once. Husbands of your friends, perhaps?”
Her gaze traveled over him, and he felt himself still wriggling on her hook. “Well, you are perfect for this, aren’t you? It’s kind of written all over you. And the way you had the nerve to pull that stunt on our blind dates—a perfect example of supreme confidence. I was impressed.” She suddenly laughed. “It was touch and go for a while if I would scream the house down, but I was impressed. And you look like the perfect example of the serial dater—handsome, smooth, suave…”
“Thank you,” he tried to interrupt her, very much aware that the tone of her voice was not conveying any positivism toward these supposedly positive traits, and not really up to hearing more.
She continued. “Commitment-phobic, right? Not even looking for the right woman? Right?”
He nodded reluctantly. She had him pegged pretty well.
“See,