The Pregnancy Promise. Barbara McMahon
“Two heads are better than one at solving problems,” he said. He gently put her on the bed and once she covered herself with the spread, sat on the edge of the mattress.
“It won’t happen again,” she said.
“What happened and won’t again?” he asked.
“I won’t leave so unexpectedly like this time. It was a private emergency.”
“Hey, Protection, Inc. is good in emergencies. We have strategic planning down to an art. I doubt there are many things we can’t handle. Besides, you help me in brainstorming solution, let’s try this one.”
She almost smiled. Tray was so proud of the company—and rightly so. Their success rate was terrific. It was becoming synonymous with high end security in the capital. The firm was constantly hiring new agents as it expanded. One department did nothing but vet new hires. Tray made security as sacred as apple pie.
“Unfortunately the company can’t help in this situation,” she said.
“Try me,” he invited.
He looked rock-solid, firm and dependable. She knew he was as honest as anyone she’d met. And he had an aura of competency that was evident at first glance. Wind had ruffled his dark hair when he walked to the cottage from his car, giving him an almost boyish look. She blinked. She’d met him when he’d been in his thirties. There was nothing boyish about the hard-as-nails man who drove Protection, Inc. He was right, she and he had worked together for years. Might as well share this little bit.
“All right.” She’d take him up on his challenge. “I found out yesterday I need to have a hysterectomy and I always wanted a family. If I don’t do something soon, I can forget about ever having one.”
Tray didn’t move, didn’t even blink, but Lianne knew she’d startled him.
“It’s a female problem and getting worse. My doctor recommended I get the operation soon—like before next month. Where does that fall in Protection’s purview?”
Unexpectedly he reached out and brushed her hair away from her cheek. Lianne was shocked at the awareness that shot through her. This was Tray, her boss, mentor and friend. She refused to hear Annalise’s words echo in her mind about being too involved with Tray.
“Not one of our more usual situations,” he murmured.
“You wanted to know,” she reminded him. She respected him more than anyone she knew. She often marveled at the dangerous situations he was able to defuse. But even Tray couldn’t pull miracles out of a hat. “Don’t worry, this is my problem, not yours. I don’t see it has much of a solution—much less a quick one.”
“You work for me so it becomes my problem,” Tray said.
“I’m coming to grips with the situation,” she said, feeling awkward discussing it with her boss. Their relationship had always been business. Now he was in her bedroom. He’d touched her in a way not consistent with being her boss.
“But it isn’t going away,” he said.
“Sooner or later, I need that operation. I just wanted to have a baby first.” Her voice cracked a little. Lianne took a deep breath. She was done with crying.
“Ironic,” he murmured.
“What is?”
“Nothing. No boyfriend ready to step up to the plate?” he asked.
She shook her head and shot him a look. “When do I have time to date and build some kind of relationship? In case you didn’t know, my boss is a slaver driver,” she teased, trying to lighten the mood. He did not need to shoulder her problems.
“Hey, whatever it takes to get the job done.”
“What it takes is two or three people to keep up with you,” she retorted.
“You’ve never complained,” he said.
“You know how exciting the work can be. I love it. But I think I’ll need to make some changes. I hate to hit the singles bars, but if I want a family—and I do—I could have left it too late. But I have to try.”
He touched her shoulder, the awareness building again. “I have a few friends I could introduce you to. I know Mark Wyatt was married for a while and liked being married.”
“What happened?”
“His wife didn’t, apparently. Anyway, they split about a year ago. He might be right what you’re looking for. He’s around my age, no children yet. Maybe he’d be interested.”
“That hardly sounds romantic,” she said.
“Hey, you want romance, you need to take your time. You want a sperm donor, you take what you can get.”
“Tray, I can’t believe you said that. It sounds horrible. I don’t just want a donor, I want someone to make a baby with and then raise that baby together, going to school functions, family gatherings. I’d like to get married if I can find the right man, but if that’s not in the cards, I still want a father who will be there when the child graduates college and gets married and makes us grandparents.”
“What time warp are you coming from?” he asked.
“What do you mean? That’s not so much to ask.”
“In this day and age it is. Who do you know who’s still married when their kids graduate college?”
“My parents for one. My grandparents are all alive, all four. There has only been one divorce in our family in three generations,” she said. “But marriage isn’t necessary. Mostly I want someone committed to being a dad. Someone who will love our child as much as I will.”
“Weigh the chances and the parameters you have to work with. See what level of comfort you can stand and go for it. It may be single motherhood is the cost of a child.”
“I guess I have some serious thinking to do.”
“Want something to eat while doing that serious thinking?”
“Can you cook?” Lianne knew he could order pizza with the best of them, but she’d never had a reason to know if he could cook. It gave a different dimension to him.
“I can manage eggs and toast,” he said.
“I think there’s only dry cereal and oatmeal.”
“I’ll manage, you rest.” He stood up and walked out of the bedroom.
Lianne breathed a sigh of relief. Tray was too energetic for the way she felt. She meant what she said—she had some serious decisions to make. Could she find someone to fall in love with on demand? Tray already promised to introduce her to an eligible man. Her sisters would, she knew. Some friends had been trying to fix her up for years, but she’d always had her work. And Tray—as Annalise said.
Lianne didn’t want to return to work. She wanted to stay at the cottage and gather her resources a bit before returning home. Yet if Tray was going to introduce her to someone he thought she might like, maybe the sooner done the better. She hoped this month’s bout of pain vanished soon.
Tray brought up oatmeal and tea. He sat beside her and matched her spoonful for spoonful. She thought it funny he would eat so plainly, and drink tea when she knew he devoured coffee all day long. A couple of times during the meal, she caught Tray studying her. Lianne wanted to squirm under his intense regard, but did her best to appear unconcerned propped up against the headboard. The pills were beginning to take effect and she felt marginally better. She appreciated his taking care of her. She never expected that. Fighting terrorists or kidnappers, yes, taking care of a sick friend—no. Showed she really didn’t know all she could about him.
“Are you tabulating every flaw to pass on to your friend?” she finally asked.
“No, I’m mentally listing all the attributes I