Barefoot by the Sea

Things were looking better, so she decided to push her luck. “Highly intelligent with good math skills.” Because a child would need that in this world.

He raised a brow. “Seriously?”

“You asked my list. Math skills is on it.”

“Fine. You want me to figure Pi to twenty digits?”

“Can you?”

“Without a calculator.”

Oh, boy. He might be…perfect. “Okay, then. We need a clean bill of health, no allergies, and absolutely none of those, you know, tight white underwear.”

“I don’t have a cold, won’t get hives, and I don’t think I even own underwear.”

“You are sounding better every minute. Just one last thing…”

He laughed. “Don’t tell me. A quick DNA test?”

“Um, actually, yes.”

His smile froze, then faded. “You’re kidding.”

If only she were. “I’d really like to check for recessive genes that might carry a disease or disorder.”

“What?” He backed away, putting a good six inches between them. “You are serious.”

She swallowed against a bone-dry throat. “I told you it was complicated.”

“I’m not marriage material, sweetheart, and by the sound of your list—”

“No, no. I don’t want to get married.” Well, she did, but admitting that was like inviting him to leave.

He frowned, searching her face as though he could figure this out by a careful inspection. She doubted he could. “Then what do you want if not a hookup or a husband?”

“I’m looking for a…” Another failed attempt to swallow nearly choked her. “A sperm donor.”

In the two or three seconds it took to register, a symphony of emotions played over his face. Realization, surprise, disbelief, and, finally, rejection.

“Good luck with that.” He started to slide out of the booth.

“No strings attached,” she added, fighting the urge to reach out and stop him. “Not a father, not a husband, I need your—”

“Sorry, not your man.” He sliced her again with that icy blue gaze, one more emotion shimmering in them. Pain. Bone-deep, soul-searing, life-changing pain so real it took her breath away, then disappeared so fast she thought she might have imagined it.

“Nice talking to you,” he murmured, getting farther away.

She lost the battle not to grab him, closing her hand over his wrist, the sheer width of it surprising her almost as much as the insane rhythm of his pulse under her thumb. “Wait.”

He shook his head and he yanked out of her grip. “Good luck with your list, honey. I’m pretty sure you can find all that in a doctor’s office or something. No need to grill the guys who are trying to get laid at the bar.”

“I…” Any explanation sounded lame. Any explanation was lame. “I’d rather know what I’m getting.”

One mighty shoulder lifted in a shrug that tried to convey he didn’t care, but something in his expression said differently.

He might look like a bad-ass sex god, but there was more going on in John Brown’s head than getting laid. And damn if that didn’t make him even more attractive than his dirty talk and smooth tongue.

“Why?” he asked, pausing on his way out of the booth. “Why not do the anonymous thing?”

“Things could go wrong. They could be lying on the application. I don’t trust…anyone.”

His smile was slow, rueful, and never got anywhere near his eyes. “But you’re willing to trust me?”

“I was thinking about it.”

“Word of advice,” he said, leaning in one more time to a kissably close distance. “Don’t.”

And with that, he headed to the bar before she could even think of a reply.

In the space of one long sigh, Zoe slid into the booth, directly across from Tessa.

“What’d you do, demand access to his family health history?”

“Shut up, Zoe.”

“You did, didn’t you?”

“He’s not my type.” Tessa turned to look at the crowd, hating that her eyes misted over. Now she was going to moon over this tattooed loser who got her all hot and bothered with one wet kiss and a compliment on her rack? Get a grip, Tess.

“Really?” Zoe almost crawled across the table. “’Cause he sure looked like your type when he had his tongue down your throat and his hand in your pants.”

“Zoe, stop,” Lacey said, slipping into the booth with two bottles of water. “Can’t you see she’s upset?”

“I’m not upset,” Tessa denied.

“I would be,” Zoe puffed, twisting the top off a water bottle. “Dude was totally digging you.”

Jocelyn appeared with two Blue Moons, giving one to Tessa. “What did you say to Channing Tatum’s brother?” she asked. “He practically mowed me down trying to get out of here.”

Tessa closed her eyes, trying to get her heart rate back to normal. “Well, let’s see, first we discussed how he was going to tattoo me with his tongue.”

Zoe’s bottle froze partway to her mouth. “I knew I liked that guy.”

“C’mon, Zoe,” Jocelyn said. “She’s kidding.”

“No I’m not,” Tessa said humorlessly. “He claims he could strip my top off without ever taking his tongue out of my mouth.”

“Oooh.” Zoe dropped her chin on her knuckles. “The guy’s got a good tongue.”

“You have no idea.” Tessa lifted the beer bottle, but the Blue Moon held little interest now. Zoe’s recently passed Great-Aunt Pasha may have predicted that Tessa would meet her man “after the next blue moon,” but she hadn’t meant this Blue Moon. She meant the kind that happened about as often as men like John Brown dropped into Tessa’s lap.

Which would be just about never, ever.

“So how did it go from mouth all over you to disappearing act?” Lacey asked.

“Well, I…” Tessa nibbled her lip, knowing they’d get the story out of her so trying to soften the truth was a waste of time. “I kind of told him…I mentioned that I…I thought I should be straight and—”

“You didn’t.” They all said it at the same time, which would have been funny except that, right then, nothing was funny.

“I did.”

“Did you actually say the five-letter word that starts with s, ends with m, and rhymes with worm?” Zoe demanded.

Tessa took a drink and stared at Zoe, who face-palmed. “Holy, holy, holy hell. She did.”

“How’d that go for you?” Jocelyn asked, rich with sarcasm.

“Not so great,” Tessa admitted. “One minute he was breathing fire down my neck and the next he turned to stone and disappeared.”

Lacey put her hand on Tessa’s arm. “Maybe you’ll see him again around town.”

“He said he was passing through and, honestly, if I never see him again it’ll be too soon.”

Zoe snorted a laugh. “Famous last words.”

“Spoken by whom?” Tessa challenged.

“All of us,” they answered. In perfect unison, of course.

Chapter Three

A sperm donor? What the bloody hell was that all about?

Ian twisted the ignition on his bike and punched the starter, grinding through gravel as he exploded out of