Power Play (Play Makers Book 4) (31 page)

“Who drafted this?” she asked, trying not to
sound as disgusted as she felt.

“I pieced it together myself from samples on
the Internet. But it’s a rough draft. You can change anything you
want. Re-write it completely if you feel it’s necessary. Like I
said, I trust you implicitly.”

She wondered if he could possibly understand
how much he was hurting her with this. She had believed, deep
inside, that the business angle was a smokescreen for another try
at romance. His MO, as Emily called it.

You were so wrong about him,
she told
her absent friend mournfully.
And so was I.

To Wyatt, she said, “Can I say something?
It’s important.”

“Sure. I mean, I’m not finished—”

“Trust me, you’re finished,” she drawled.
Then she softened, but just enough to explain. “This is a very
specialized area of law, Wyatt. I don’t know a thing about it
except that it’s a minefield. Plus, I’m opposed to the entire
concept.”

His gray eyes widened. “Why?”

“Surrogacy has valid uses, and it’s a
godsend for some people, but you’re not there yet. Have a baby with
a
real
girl. Someone you love. Or even someone you feel
compatible with. Get married, do the hard work. There are no
shortcuts in life, especially with something this important.”

“You aren’t listening to me,” he complained.
“I’m not interested in getting married. Not ever. But I do want a
child. And yeah, surrogacy is a minefield. I wasn’t sure I could
pull it off myself. But I’ve eliminated most of the
complications—”

“By paying some stranger to grow a baby for
you? What makes you think she’ll give it up at the end? Or worse,
she
will
give you the baby, then blackmail you until the day
you die. What if the baby’s sick? What if the surrogate falls in
love with someone else while she’s pregnant and marries
that
guy? A million things can go wrong even in the hands of an
experienced attorney. But me? I wouldn’t even know where to start.
Maybe in the yellow pages? Under wombs for rent?” When he chuckled,
she gave him a withering look. “I won’t be your lawyer, so just
drop it. And go away. For good this time.”

“You’re not listening,” he repeated fondly.
“I don’t want you to be my lawyer, Darcie. I want you to be the
surrogate.”

Chapter Nine

She couldn’t believe her ears.
Didn’t
believe her ears. So she asked cautiously, “Pardon?”

“This is all about you
.
I know it’s a
shock, but think about it. I trust you implicitly. You’re the
smartest woman I’ve ever met. Daring, gutsy, intuitive. Not to
mention tall. Great bone structure. Healthy. These are qualities I
want for my child. And yes, I could probably find them elsewhere.
But like you said, how would I know she wouldn’t blackmail me, or
use drugs, or change her mind and keep the baby?” His voice grew
wistful. “I was almost ready to give up. Then you sat next to me on
that plane. It’s like a miracle.”

Dazed, Darcie turned her attention back to
the contract, unable to form an intelligible sentence. Was this how
he saw her? Some sort of breeding cow in a silk suit? No passion,
no excitement, no wild sex in Jags. Not even the precious banter
that meant so much to her but obviously meant less than nothing to
him.

What she saw in the contract provisions
didn’t help. Wyatt was willing to pay her one million dollars for
nine months of basic bodily functions. She could continue working
at PMA if that was her preference, but if she wanted to take a
leave of absence, go off to a resort and be pampered like royalty,
all the better. He would pay for that too. Pay
all
her
expenses—medical, housing, whatever. And as for the baby, it would
have everything money could buy. The best schools, camps, trust
funds, and a squad of nannies and governesses to care for it when
Wyatt was on the road during football season.

The surrogate—aka, Darcie—didn’t even have
to have sex with him, since he had identified the world’s leading
specialist to take care of IVF.

“It has to be you, Darcie. Just name your
price. I know the concept seems foreign but you’ll get used to it.
And I’ll make sure you never regret it.”

“I already do.”

“Don’t say that.” He covered her hand with
his own. “Meeting you is the best thing that ever happened to me.
Under other circumstances, I’d ask you to try again with—well,
being my girlfriend for a while. But we’d just fight again, and
then I’d risk losing you completely. We had something amazing.
Something I’ll never forget. And now we can have this too.” His
tone turned strident. “It’s time for me to move forward with my
life. With my goals.”

“You mean, get things back under control?”
she asked, even though she knew the answer.

He seemed surprised, but nodded.
“Exactly.”

Miserable, she studied his expression. So
hopeful. So determined. So incredibly stupid. He had actually
considered trying again with her, romance-wise, but had decided it
wasn’t worth it. Because it wasn’t a sure thing. But surrogacy was.
A way to eliminate all the variables. The perfect game plan for a
control freak yearning for love but unwilling to take risks for
it.

She wanted to excuse herself from the table
and have a good cry in the bedroom. Or a good scream on the back
porch. Maybe even a good vomit somewhere, anywhere.

But then he’d know how upset she was, which
would be the ultimate humiliation. So she settled for assuring him,
“You’ve got the wrong girl, Wyatt.”

“Don’t say that. You’re perfect. Brilliant,
exciting, competitive—”

“And baby-crazy.”

“Huh?”

“If it weren’t so insulting it would be
hilarious,” she said tartly. “I’m certifiably insane for them. When
I have a child, it’s gonna be the Vulcan mind meld. No way will
anyone—not even the father—pry us apart.” Before he could respond,
she continued with reckless glee. “I love the way they smell. The
way they wiggle and goo goo and ga ga. I want to smoosh them in my
arms and never let go. And that’s with
other
people’s
babies. If I had my own? My God, I can’t even imagine it.”

His eyes twinkled. “Baby-crazy, huh?”

“If I were pregnant with your child, and I
suspected even for a second you might take it away from me, I’d be
out of there so fast you’d choke on my dust. I’d bundle it off to
some hideaway, rock it, nurse it into a stupor, and count its
little fingers and toes all day long. And you’d never,
ever
find us. So in conclusion? No, Wyatt,” she said with a flourish.
“I’m probably not the right choice for surrogate of the year.”

“You’re always full of surprises,” he said,
chuckling. “But you can have more than one baby, right? One for me,
and a dozen others you can breastfeed and rock and count toes and
fingers and all the rest. It’s not an either-or proposition. And
for the record,” he added stubbornly, “you’d know the child was
loved and well cared for. His or her future secured at birth.
That’s what really matters, isn’t it?”

“First of all, no. I’m in it for the new
baby smell,” she quipped, but her joke was undercut by tears
pooling in her eyes. Batting them away she said angrily, “Being a
single parent is the toughest job on earth. It happens, and people
deal with it. But nature designed a two-parent system for a reason.
And you’re just blithely bypassing it for your own selfish
reasons.”

He started to object, then seemed to read
the obvious-to-anyone signs. “You’re upset?”

“Yes, Wyatt, I’m upset.” Scraping her chair
away from the table, she stood and stepped backward before wrapping
her arms around her midriff. “You can’t just spring all of this on
me. Hannah, the baby, the fire. It’s gut-wrenching. Especially
because I
care
about you. You’re important to me. And then
to hear that I’m nothing to
you
but a vessel—”

“
What?”

She held up a palm to stop him from
approaching. “I thought we were friends.
More
than
friends—”

“We
are,”
he insisted desperately.
Then he stepped up to her and rested his hands on her shoulders.
“I’m sorry, Darcie. We can just drop the surrogacy thing—”

“Don’t!” She wriggled free and told him
hotly, “You’re so clueless. Not just about me. About yourself. You
actually think you can
buy
a baby? Then hire a nanny to do
the heavy lifting so you can check in and out whenever you feel
like it?”

“Where did you get
that?
I’ll be a
hands-on father. Just like
my
dad was.”

“Meaning you’ll stick around when the kid’s
adorable, then check out when it gets messy?”

“
Darcie,”
he growled, but she cut him
off with a wave of her hand.

“You’ve got a lot of thinking to do, Wyatt
Bourne. For one thing, your children are going to
need
a
mother. Someone to comfort them when their father—oh, never
mind.”

He seemed shaken by her unspoken words. “You
think I’ll be a bad father?”

“Of course not. But you’re demanding. Of
yourself. Of me. Of your family. And you’ll be that way with your
children too. You can’t expect some nanny to defend that poor kid
when you’re being unreasonable or hurtful. You’ll be
paying
her to agree with you. That’s not how it’s supposed to work.”

When he didn’t say a word, but just stared
at her, she added quickly, “You’ll be a great father, Wyatt. No
doubt about it. I’m just upset, like you said.”

“I’m sorry I made you cry,” he murmured.
“It’s the last thing I wanted to do.”

Unnerved by his sincere tone, she assured
him, “I’m over it, I promise.”

“Like you said, I’ve got some thinking to
do.”

To her dismay, he brushed his lips across
her cheek then returned to the table, zipped up his laptop case,
and slung it over his shoulder. But he didn’t bother taking the
contract and she knew why. She had ruined that dream for him, maybe
forever.

“Any kid would be lucky to have you for a
father, Wyatt. I just can’t see starting off as a single parent if
you don’t have to. That’s all I was saying.”

“And I appreciate it,” he insisted as he
headed toward the door.

“Wyatt, please don’t go.” She trailed him
onto the porch. “Will you take me for a ride in the Jag? I’ve never
been in one.”

That brought a fleeting smile to his face.
“You sound like the nieces and nephews. Especially Danny.”

“I want to hear about it, please?”

“I’ll call you,” he agreed, almost too
easily. “Thanks again, Darce. And congratulations on the press
conference with Romanov. Get some sleep, okay?”

Helpless, she watched him drive away,
knowing she had somehow dashed his hopes for fatherhood on the only
terms he could possibly accept it.

Because his parents got divorced. Because
his dad went off and left him. Because Hannah abused alcohol and
drugs and he couldn’t stop her even though she was poisoning his
unborn baby. Because they died in a fiery wreck and he’ll always
blame himself . . .

Sinking down to the top step, she struggled
not to cry again. It was so heartbreaking. Not just for Wyatt, but
for her. She wanted him so desperately. Wanted to spend hours with
him making love in the Jag, in her bed, in first class, and any
other place they could find. Teasing each other. Falling asleep
together. Waking up together. Watching football, making love,
making love, making love.

But all
he
wanted—all he could accept
from her or any other woman—was an arm’s-length relationship.
Someone to grow a baby for him. And then, per the terms of the
contract, he’d gladly never see her again.

You’re such a fool, Wyatt Bourne. And you
know what? So am I.

• • •

Like a robot, Wyatt followed the Jaguar’s
navigational instructions to escape Darcie’s neighborhood and the
surrounding area as he headed to LAX to catch his flight. He
couldn’t really think for himself anyway. Instead, he heard
Darcie’s voice. Her accusations. Predictions really. And because
she was insightful, he had to take them seriously.

He had seen himself as an exemplary father,
dedicating himself to his child. Maybe even children—plural—if the
first surrogacy went according to plan. They would have every
advantage, emotionally
and
physically, because he would
shower them with love and attention, not to mention the best
education money could buy. Most important, they would never doubt
whether they were planned, wanted or loved.

Except when you’re pissed at them,
he
told himself in disgust.
That’s what she’s saying, isn’t it?
They’ll say something you don’t like, so you’ll tune them out. Put
on your headphones like you did to her on the plane. Walk out on
them like you did to her last Saturday.

Like Matt Bourne did to you.

He had been shocked when she said that.
Offended on Matt’s behalf. But through Darcie’s eyes, it probably
seemed true.

Worst of all, most unforgivable of all, he
had made her cry. He should have known her tender heart and
passionate nature would find Hannah’s tale unbearable. And that was
even
before
he found out she was baby-crazy! So her heart
had broken for all three of them. Not just Wyatt and Hannah, but
also Wyatt’s never-to-be-born child.

But mostly for Wyatt, because she considered
him a friend.
More than a friend,
she had insisted. And he
felt the same way, but somehow he had said something, done
something, that made her feel disrespected and unloved.

I’m nothing to you but a vessel.

Had he honestly screwed things up that
badly?

As he passed a municipal park where proud
parents crowded under sparse shade trees to watch their sons and
daughters playing soccer, he felt a tug at his heart. He had been
so sure these events would be in his future. The over-involved dad
at softball games, pee wee football, Pop Warner football, and yeah,
maybe even soccer. If time permitted, he might even coach the kids,
but either way, he’d never miss a game, at least not in the
off-season.