Page 24 of Baby Maker

Chapter Five

Keegan

Three o’clock will never get here. I’ve been watching the clock all damn day, and I swear it’s moving backward at this point.

At three, Calli has an appointment. I was positive she’d cancel, but unless she’s pulling a no-show, she’s still on the schedule.

I’m not sure how I’ll keep my wits about me. Especially since that woman has been the only thing I can think about since the party a few nights earlier. Hell, since the first day I met her.

And that kiss. The feel of her body pressing against mine, my hands running along her sides. Under her skirt. Grazing along the soft flesh between her thighs.

So tight. So wet. So willing.

“Agh,” I groan, burying my head in my hands.

“Dr. Russo, your three o’clock is here.” Alice narrows her gaze as she pokes her head in the door, but I wave off her concern.

Not now, Alice. Maybe not ever.

“Just give me a few moments.”

I take a few controlled breaths, willing myself calm. Calmer, at least.

What a fucking situation. Let’s rehash all the ways this is a terrible conundrum. First, Calli is a patient. Beyond that, she’s a widow, desperate to have her dead husband’s child. And she wants me to do it.

The truth is, Calliope will make an excellent mother. Of all the women who have walked through my door, I know without a doubt that she will excel in that department. She deserves this chance, and I’m the man to make it happen.

No matter how much I hate it.

With a final groan, I push the button on the intercom. “You can send in Ms. Webster. Mrs. Webster.” I need to keep that fact foremost in my brain.

A moment later, the door opens, and my heart speeds up at the sight of her.

This is never going to work. I need to put some serious space between us. Time for every professional wall to come into play.

“Mrs. Webster. Have a seat.”

For her part, she’s certainly downplaying her beauty. Or attempting to, anyway. Clad in a pair of yoga pants, a sweatshirt, and a ball cap, she looks like she’s ready to spend the day binging Netflix.

She also looks gorgeous.

I focus my gaze on the computer, pulling up her test results, my fingers beating out an erratic rhythm against the desk. So much for being calm and collected. For a speed junkie, maybe. “Give me a moment, please. The computer is slow today.”

“Actually, I’d like to say something.” Her voice is low, tremulous.

I swallow before swinging my gaze to meet hers. “Go ahead.”

She stands, her tiny frame once again pacing holes into my carpet. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Russo. My behavior the other night was out of line. You have a girlfriend. You’re my doctor, but more importantly, I considered you my friend. My first friend in a really long time. Now, I’ve ruined all of that with my impetuous actions. I’m absolutely aghast at myself, and I’m so very sorry.”

I should be happy, right? She’s apologetic, accepting blame for a kiss she didn’t instigate. Every word she speaks is the right one. She agrees it was a mistake. It shouldn’t have happened.

But instead of feeling calm, I’m now more aggravated than ever. My blood pounds in my veins as she recants the kiss, apologizing for the way her hands slid against my body.

Fuck that noise. Because as soon as Calli admits that she’s sorry, I realize that I’m not. Not one damn iota.

Instead, my foot taps against the floor as I try to convince my body not to launch across the desk and have a replay of the other night. “What part are you sorry about?”

“All of it. Like I said. You have a girlfriend. You’re my friend—”

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