Page 15 of Baby Maker

Keegan shifts in his seat and I swear a hint of color crawls up his cheeks. "Trust me, it's a compliment. I think you'd be a great mom, and I can't say that about every woman. You have that nurturing instinct down pat, along with what I surmise is a kick-ass left hook."

"Actually, it's an uppercut." I fiddle with my spoon, my gaze downward. "Do you think I'm crazy?"

"For wanting a baby?" He shakes his head, his expression devoid of emotion. "Most women want a baby."

"For wanting my husband's baby."

He leans back, a look of realization flashing across his face. "I didn't realize that was an option. I don't think it's crazy at all, Calliope. It makes sense. You want to continue his legacy."

"Exactly. He deserves the chance to live on." I try to gauge Keegan's opinion of my revelation, but aside from his forced smile, he's playing it cool. Time to move him to the hot seat. "Do you have children?"

"No." That's a short and clipped reply.

"Do you plan to?"

"Again, no."

I should stop pressing him. It's obvious this is a touchy subject. But anyone who knows me knows that I read all warning signs… and ignore them as I walk past. "Why not? You spend your days helping people become parents. Hasn't baby fever hit you?"

He shakes his head, downing the last of his coffee. "No, and it won't either. I've no interest in having a family."

"Does your girlfriend know that?"

"She does, but she's not my girlfriend. She's a woman I date. Big difference."

"Sounds like the difference is semantics."

Another shift in his chair. I've hit a nerve. "I suppose you have a point."

"Tell me about her, this woman you date." I'm not sure why I care to know, but I don't want this moment to end. For the first time in longer than I can recall, I feel normal. Alive.

Keegan shrugs, his gaze focused on the far wall. "Not much to tell."

"I'm sure that isn't true."

"I'm serious." He pulls out his phone, sliding it across the table. On the screen is a gorgeous brunette, no older than twenty-five. With her tits popping out of her dress and a come-hither smile on her face, she's every man's dream. A very, very wet dream.

Without thinking, I gaze down at my own outfit: yoga pants and a sweatshirt. One covered in dog fur, no less. To top it off, a messy bun and no makeup. Suddenly, I'm severely self-conscious about my dowdy appearance.

Talk about polar opposites.

"She's gorgeous, Keegan." What else can I say? If you look in the dictionary beside the word high-maintenance, you'll find her photo?

"She knows it."

I chuckle. "Most women like that have a healthy self-confidence."

"If only she had the brains to back it up."

I giggle, covering my mouth and shaking my head at his pointed barb. "That's not very nice."

"Perhaps not, but it's true. Somewhere, there's a village missing their idiot."

The man should have given me fair warning that he was going to make that statement. I'm mid sip as coffee spurts from my lips, covering me and the table. Hell, I think a few drops even wound up on Domino.

My cheeks flame as I snatch a napkin from the holder, blotting up my mess. "Talk about a party foul. I didn't get you, did I?"

I wish establishments came equipped with trapdoors for just such an occasion.

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