The Patterson Girls (23 page)

‘No, thank you. What I need,' she said, taking a daring step towards him, ‘is for you to help me forget about my crap day. Any ideas on how you might do that?'

His lips curled into a wicked grin.
Much better
, she thought, as he closed the gap between them and yanked her against him. His mouth captured hers and his hands slid around her back and under her shirt. She felt the hard length of his cock against her belly. Part of her wanted to take it slower this time, to truly languish in the experience, but the other half overruled. Their tongues entwined and she pulled at his t-shirt, their mouths parting only long enough for her to get it over his head.

She palmed her hands against his hard, hot chest, loving the feel of him. He had a perfect splattering of blond hair and she followed the trail downwards, boldly sliding her hand into his jeans, groaning as her fingers closed around her heart's desire.

‘Fuck me, Abigail,' he hissed, tearing at the buttons on her cardigan. It was a recent, expensive purchase from her favourite boutique and she heard two buttons pop off and fly to who knows where. She didn't care. She wanted them both naked. Yesterday.

‘Hurry,' she whispered as Nigel removed the rest of her clothing and then shucked his own jeans and jocks.

He pulled them down onto the rug in front of the fire, his hands roving over her breasts and then, ‘Oh
God
,' lower. Already hot and desperate, she almost couldn't bear it as he slid two fingers inside her. She gripped his shoulders, clinging to him for support as he worked her into even more of a state. She couldn't recall ever feeling this good in her life and her fears that maybe their second time together wouldn't be as mind-blowing vanished.

Just before her orgasm hit, she pushed him off, rolled him over and climbed on top. His fingers were magic but she wanted his cock inside her and she couldn't wait a second longer. As she sank down onto his hard length, he thrust upwards and his eyes stayed open, watching her intently as they rode the wave and then crashed together.

‘That was …' Nigel didn't seem able to define it as she lay on top of him, her head resting on his chest as she tried to catch her breath.

‘I know,' she panted.

Silence reigned for a few more long moments. And then Nigel said, ‘We didn't use a condom again.'

‘I promise I'm safe,' Abigail lied. It might have been the truth. If she were already carrying his baby, she could hardly get pregnant again.

Nigel chuckled and ran his fingers up through her hair. He clasped the back of her head and drew it toward him, kissing her hard. As his tongue touched hers, desire stirred again. He did things to her, made her feel and want things that no man had ever managed before. Maybe it was the newness of their situation, the naughtiness. Either way, she couldn't complain about feeling
this
good.

‘So what was so bad about your day?' he asked, still holding her against him.

Abigail wasn't sure fuck buddies were supposed to get into detailed discussions about shitty days but she found herself confiding in him. She cringed as she told him about her busking debacle but he didn't laugh or make her feel stupid.

‘It sounds like you could do with some pizza,' he said, when she'd finally finished. ‘How's that head now?'

‘Much better. And pizza sounds just about perfect.'

Deciding there were no rules to follow and they were adults and could work their situation however they wanted, Abigail cleaned up while Nigel ordered pizza. Once again, as it had at the airport, conversation flowed between them. As they shared their histories—discovering they'd been in London about the same length of time and that Nigel also had three older sisters—Abigail couldn't help thinking about what her life would be like if she was pregnant.

Would she tell him? Would he want to be involved? Would he tell his family? He might be angry at first, but despite his declaration that his career came first, she couldn't imagine him turning his back on a baby. Of course that might put paid to her moving back home, so maybe it would be better for everyone if he didn't know.

‘I guess I'd better be going,' she said reluctantly after devouring three slices of pizza.

‘I'll call you a cab.' Nigel pushed himself off the floor, where they'd been sitting while they ate and talked.

‘No,' she argued, thinking that even the fare from here to her place would break her budget.

As if reading her mind, Nigel said, ‘I'm paying and there's no arguments.'

She didn't really want to tackle the Tube this late at night—where she'd either freeze to death or have to put up with some drunken lout—so she relented. ‘Thank you.'

Nigel helped her into her coat, zipped it up like she were a little girl and then kissed her again in a way that said she was most definitely not. Pleasant shivers skittered down her spine. ‘I'll see you soon,' he said, not making any commitments about when as he opened the front door and then slipped a fifty pound note into her hand.

She frowned down at the note, feeling uneasy about taking his money after what they'd just done. As if reading her mind, he squeezed her hand. ‘If it makes you feel better you can consider it a loan, but no way am I letting you take public transport at this time of night.' Then he dipped his head and kissed her again.

A black cab was already waiting a few metres away, its bright headlights piercing the dark. ‘Thank you,' she whispered as she turned and ran out into the night.

Chapter Eighteen

Madeleine waited at the entrance of a little café not far from the hospital, glancing furtively at all the tables and wondering if the man she was about to meet was already sitting there. She pulled out her phone, clicked a few buttons and brought up his photo on her screen. Although the café was rapidly filling up with people coming from work to an early dinner, she was certain her guy wasn't here yet.

She sighed and decided to sit anyway. As she pulled out a seat at a table by the window, she silently prayed—something she didn't do often—that this man would be the one. Since returning from Australia two weeks ago, her life had been consumed with two things; work and her baby project. She was quite happy with this status quo but only wished things could happen a little faster. After signing up for the known donor website, she'd spent countless hours scrolling through possible biological fathers for her child. Using her detailed checklist, she'd narrowed down her options to a top five, all of whom lived in Maryland.

She had exchanged emails with all five men and from their correspondence, quickly ruled out a further three. Now it was time to assess the final two in person and hopefully make a decision so they could start trying in a couple of weeks. Although Madeleine knew women should ideally be taking folate supplements for at least three months before trying to conceive, she already ate a balanced diet and exercised regularly so felt confident in her body and health.

‘Hello? Are you Madeleine?'

She looked up at the unfamiliar voice and took a couple of seconds to recognise the speaker as Potential Donor Number One. To say he looked different to his profile picture would be a gross understatement.

‘Um, yes, hi,' she said, standing and offering out her hand, trying but failing miserably not to stare at the pink and blue streaks in his jet-black hair. In his photo, he'd been wearing a business suit; today he wore oil-streaked jeans and a torn leather jacket. And a weird smell was coming off him. ‘And you must be …'

‘Ross. Ross Clark.' He shook her hand so hard it hurt and then sat down in the seat opposite her. ‘Pleased to meet you.'

‘Yes.' She pursed her lips together, not quite able to say the same. First impressions didn't instil her with a whole lot of confidence.

They smiled at each other awkwardly across the table and then Ross joked, ‘Maybe we should have met in a bar. That way we could have a drink to settle the nerves.'

‘Shall I order us some coffee?' she asked, telling herself she needed to give this a proper chance. So, he had blue and pink hair and he'd gotten a nose ring since the photo, but that stuff was superficial.

‘Good plan.'

Madeleine summoned a waitress, ordered their drinks and then turned back to Ross, trying to work out how to start their conversation. It felt oddly like a first date, except a) Ross wasn't her type, b) they had more important things to talk about than favourite movies, food and football teams and c) they'd already exchanged so many emails over the past week that she felt like they knew each other very well. At least, she had until she'd met him in person. He certainly didn't look like the lawyer he claimed to be.

‘I must admit, I was a little bit nervous about meeting you,' Ross said, tapping his long fingernails on the tabletop. They matched his hair, alternating pink and blue nail polish. ‘It's like I'm in some job interview or something. But it also feels like meeting up with a long-lost friend. How's your sister by the way?'

‘Huh?'

‘Lucinda.'

‘Oh, right.' Madeleine nodded, remembering how in her first email she'd mentioned her younger sister was also trying to get pregnant. As it happened, she and Luce had had a lengthy conversation the other day—quite unusual for them—and she'd been pleased to hear Lucinda and Joe were going to see her friend in Perth about their fertility issues. ‘She's good, thanks.'

‘Excellent. So have you told her what we're doing?'

Madeleine blinked, wondering for a moment what he was talking about. ‘Oh.' She shook her head. ‘No, I've only told a couple of close friends. What about you?'

‘Sure.' Ross beamed. ‘I've told everyone I know. They can't wait to meet our baby.'

Madeleine's heart went cold. Alarm bells rang loud and clear inside her head. She made a funny noise in her throat. ‘Um, Ross, that wouldn't be the agreement. We've already talked this through. You'd be a legal donor, that's it. We'd have an agreement drawn up, you'd bring me sperm at the right time of the month and then if it worked, we'd never see each other again. Well, not until the child was of legal age and could look for you—if that's what he or she desired.'

Ross frowned, reached across the table and took her hand. A shudder of revulsion shot through her as his thumb rubbed slowly against the tender skin of her wrist. ‘I would come to you when the time was right and we would make love to conceive the child. I believe all children should be conceived in love.'

Madeleine blinked and yanked back her hand. Who was this nutter? Was this some kind of cruel joke? ‘No, Ross, that was never on the agenda. I barely know you and I certainly don't love you.' The thought of ‘making love' with him made her skin crawl.

At that moment the waitress arrived with their coffee and Ross suddenly burst into tears. The waitress looked at Madeleine like she murdered puppies in her spare time and other patrons in the café began to glance over at them as well. Another woman might have felt sympathy for the snivelling punk in front of her, but Madeleine only felt anger, frustration and annoyance that he'd wasted her time. She pulled out her purse, slapped a ten-dollar note on the table, then stood and stormed out of the café into the rain.

‘Well, that was a total and utter waste of time.' She cursed under her breath as she opened her umbrella and then stalked down the sidewalk to the restaurant where she'd agreed to meet Hugo and Celia for dinner. The minute she got there she would get out her phone and report Ross Clark for breaching the terms and conditions of the known donor website. The man was a lunatic if ever she'd met one.

As Madeleine sat at the bar of one of the finest restaurants in Baltimore waiting for her friends to arrive, she eyed the row of bottles on the wall and almost succumbed to the urge to order a stiff drink. If Potential Donor Number Two was as dire as Potential Donor Number One had been, then it might be a while before she got to the sperm-meets-egg stage of the process. What harm would one little drink do?

‘Evening,' the smartly dressed barman smiled at her. ‘What can I get for you?'

She opened her mouth to ask for a vodka tonic, but changed her mind at the last second. ‘Just a club soda, please,' she said instead, deciding that Madeleine Patterson wasn't the type to let one little setback keep her down. She wanted this baby more than anything and she wasn't going to let the likes of Ross Clark stop her.

Still, despite her bravado, when Hugo walked in, he took one look at her, cocked his head to the side and said, ‘Disaster?'

She sighed as he leaned forward and gave her a quick hug. ‘That is the understatement of the century.'

‘Let me order a drink and then you can tell Uncle Hugo all about it,' he said as he took the stool beside her.

She tried to laugh at his words, but it didn't quite come out that way. Why couldn't she find a donor like Hugo? Someone who was smart, intelligent, not crazy and also just happened to be incredibly good-looking. She stared at his profile as he made small talk with the barman and couldn't help but imagine what her baby would look like if he were the father. He ticked all her boxes, except for one thing …

‘Where's Celia?' she asked.

Hugo thanked the barman for his beer and then turned back to Madeleine. ‘She just messaged to say she's running late and that we should go ahead and order without her. Apparently she got held up in surgery this afternoon.'

‘Oh, okay.' Celia was a paediatric otolaryngologist, and often dealt with the ear, nose and throat problems of the children that Hugo and Madeleine had brought into the world.

Before Madeleine could say anymore, the maître d' approached them. ‘Your table is ready, or would you prefer to wait for the third member of your party.'

Hugo shook his head and stood. ‘No, unfortunately, she's running late.' He looked back to Madeleine and smiled, then gestured that she should go ahead.