Page 26 of Baby Maker

I expect a smile of relief, maybe even a clap of excitement. That’s standard at this juncture. Instead, Calli sits before me, clutching her purse and twisting a ring around her finger, looking anything but happy.

“I should be thrilled, right? There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“Absolutely. One hurdle cleared.”

“Then why am I so conflicted? I thought… I thought this was what I wanted, but what if I’m making a horrible mistake?”

This is my chance to shoot Calli’s plan dead in the water. Tell her to forgo this cockamamie idea. But I’d be the biggest bastard on the planet if I did that to her. She wants this child. And there was no hesitation before our intimate encounter the other night. I can’t allow myself to read into it, or its ramifications. “I know that you’ll be an amazing mother, Calli. But you don’t have to decide anything today. We still need to run additional testing. But we are one step closer to getting you pregnant… with your husband’s baby.”

I feel ill as I speak the words.

A feeling I’m unfamiliar with courses through my body. Calliope is not mine. She never was, and she has totally different priorities in life than I do.

So why does the idea of her having another man’s baby fill me with dread? What is this exquisite anger eating away at my insides?

She pulls at imaginary threads on her pants, her nervousness echoing my own. “As if today isn’t already a mix of emotions, I also have a date tonight.”

“You do?” I manage, my throat constricting.

“Gah,” she groans, burying her head in her hands. “Are we still friends?”

Friends. What a safe, sad and terrible idea. “Absolutely,” I lie, forcing a smile in her direction.

Springing out of the chair, Calli begins her incessant pacing once again. My poor rug doesn’t stand a chance. “Bridget cornered me into going out with a therapist she knows from work. I don’t know why I agreed.”

“Maybe because you like the guy?”

“I don’t know him, Keegan. I was so mixed up after the other night with you, and how you ran off. I felt like I must be the worst kisser in the world—”

“You’re not. Trust me.” Is she kidding? She’s on the opposite side of the damn spectrum.

“Are you saying that to placate me?” Those gray orbs hold me transfixed, the storm brewing in them nothing compared to the tempest inside me.

“I told you the other night. I don’t say things I don’t mean. You’re an amazing kisser. Your mouth—” I rub the back of my neck as my pants tighten from the memory of her lips working me over. Giving as good as they got.

“Yours, too.” Another whispered admission. And now, the air in the room is stifling. Thick with desire.

I want to kiss her again. This time, I won’t stop until I’m buried inside her, branding every inch of her as mine. But we both agreed that despite the obvious attraction, what happened the other night was a mistake. One that I’m dying to repeat. Ad infinitum.

“You might have fun on the date, right? It’s been known to happen.” It’s the best I can offer. That’s what a friend would say, right? Tell her to go out and have an awesome night, not cancel the stupid date and spend the evening with me.

That is a bad idea on so many levels.

So many delicious, delectable levels.

I shift in my seat, my dick screaming for release and my mind warning me that I’ve got about thirty seconds before my last shreds of willpower disappear.

“That’s just it. I’m not going to have fun.” The woman looks like she’s headed to an executioner instead of dinner.

Again, an opportunity to dead her plans before they happen. But that would make me a shit friend. An honest friend, but shitty, nonetheless.

I hate this role.

I force a smile, returning the computer screen to its original position. “Have a little faith, Calli. He might turn out to be just what you’re looking for.”

* * *

Calli: He is absolutely NOT what I’m looking for.

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