A Baby...Maybe? & How to Hunt a Husband (8 page)

But he wouldn't. The old men meant a lot to him. They also had a stake in his business. In LuLu to be exact. LuLu the prize bull. The bull that had been owned by one Jeb Stevens, formerly of Montana and lately of Miami Beach. The bull that had gone on the auction block and sold for seven hundred fifty thousand dollars—if he said three-quarters of a million dollars, it made LuLu sound even more valuable. The bull that Rex now owned in partnership with his father and the seven men in his waiting room, who all had staked their retirement savings on LuLu and the semen he'd produce. Not because they thought the bull was a great bargain. Hell no. They all thought Rex had paid too much. But they believed in Rex, believed in his dream, and wanted Rex to succeed. If it took some overpriced bull to do that, well, then that's what it took.

LuLu was fed organically grown grain. No impurities had ever passed the bull's lips. The cattle on
Rex's ranch were fed the same mixture. All top-quality beef and first-rate breeding stock. Now, Tony Donetti was breeding Angus cattle for his own restaurant, and he also used the same mix of feed. It was superior feed for superior beef.

An Angus was an Angus, but LuLu was a Galloway. Before he had come into Rex's possession, LuLu had sired hundreds of championship stock cattle. Rex had had him about a year now, and the bull was well on his way to topping that record. Not the old-fashioned way though, but through the artificial insemination process.

Not that Rex prevented LuLu from having his way with a cow. LuLu just wasn't interested in cows. He was a million-dollar—or damn close to it—gay bull. Which didn't matter to anybody as long as he had what it took to produce championship calves for those willing to pay the price.

Jasper, Tigger and the rest of the guys were all sitting around, chewing the fat along with their tobacco and pretending they had nowhere to go, nothing to do. Everyone knew, however, they were there in the waiting room for one reason and one reason only. To protect their bull and make sure there would be a return on their investment while they were still around to enjoy it.

Only today, they were seeming to get a big kick out of Rex and the mystery lady—a mystery to everyone but Tigger, that is.

After the coffee finished brewing, Rex put the pot on the warmer in the waiting area. The men slowly creaked out of their chairs and took their place in line for a little jolt of caffeine to keep them going.

Rex sat in Barbara's chair to start working. He checked the calendar. None of the three appointments either Barbara or Cathy had scheduled canceled, which meant he was booked for most of the day. The
first was with a woman, Cara Romano, a name he didn't recognize. The other two, Herman Jakes and Georgiana Rodgers, he had done business with before.

“Hey, boys, we've got us a new lady coming to visit.” There weren't many women ranchers in the area. Georgiana, widow of Roger, had recently turned the ranch that had run in the red during Roger's lifetime to pure black when she started breeding Galloway cattle using Noble semen, so they knew her.

As far as the prospect of a new lady went, all he got was abstract grumbling from the old men. They were more interested in the woman over at Mandelay than anyone coming to talk about semen.

Still, Rex let them know, “A new customer means more profit, boys.”

“True, true,” Clyde, always the philosopher, agreed. “Tigger said she wore a sexy dress. I forget what that means.”

“Get out.” Roy chopped him on the shoulder.

“It's been a long time,” Clyde whined.

“Time for my nap.” Ted Clark placed his already-empty coffee mug on the table next to him, slumped in his chair with his bony shoulders against the wall and covered his face with his Stetson. “Wake me if anything exciting happens.”

He said that every week, and the boys had yet to wake him.

Barbara came up behind Rex, slapping him on the back. “Get up outta there, that's my chair.”

“This is your chair? Are you sure? I think it forgot who you were. Chair, this is Barbara, she works here, full-time on a temporary basis.”

“Rex, dear, I was sick yesterday.” The pink-haired lady smiled sweetly, then slid her gaze over to Tigger, who watched her the same way that LuLu eyed the semen machine.

“I heard some interesting news last night,” she said to Rex.

“We all know about Rex climbing the tree to that young lady's room,” Pete said.

“That's old news,” Barbara scoffed.

“Old already?” Rex didn't know whether to be happy or disappointed. “How did you now about that?”

She shook her head in disgust. “Everyone knows about what a fool you made of yourself over that girl. She's not even from Texas. What are you thinking?”

He was thinking that while he couldn't find “that girl's” name, everyone knew about him climbing the tree. Go figure.

“I need to tell you about a call I got yesterday from my dear friend Irma, who talked to her friend Jamie, who just happens to be first cousin to none other than Chad Ottaway from the Ottaway Ranch in Tucson. Isn't this a coincidence?” She was all excited. “Did you hear?”

“Hear what?” Tigger asked.

“Where's your hearing aid?”

“I hear fine.”

“Then listen. Did you hear what happened at the Ottaway Ranch yesterday?” She poked Rex in the chest.

“I was busy yesterday, fielding phone calls because my receptionist, that being you, wasn't here. So no, I didn't hear anything.”

“Well.” Barbara made sure she had everyone's attention, ignoring the jab about her not-so-great work habits, and focusing on Tigger, she said in a know-it-all voice, “The semen—courtesy of none other than Tony Donetti's big bull, Rufus—was hijacked.”

“Yesterday?” Clyde asked.

“Tony?” Rex couldn't believe it.

The others got loud and vocal, calling for the FBI,
CIA, army, navy and every other military branch, including the Texas Rangers, to be brought in on the case and capture the person who was hijacking the semen. “But for the grace of God and semen go I,” Tigger said. “This is war. Arm yourselves.”

The old men shouted out a hearty amen.

“Calm down, everyone.” Rex shuffled through the stack of mail until he found
Proliferation,
the cattle breeding industry magazine. There was an article in there about this very subject.

What happened to Tony could affect them, too. No longer were cattle rustlers stealing the old-fashioned way by rounding up calves and branding them with a competitor's mark before herding them onto a waiting truck. Now they'd gone high-tech. They intercepted frozen semen through the mail, or hired a mole to infiltrate an operation and walk away with hundreds, if not thousands, of vials. Stealing the frozen semen of championship bulls like LuLu and starting their own breeding production would be cheap to start and could earn them millions down the road, considering each straw of semen could fetch upward of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

So far he had been lucky and had avoided these modern-day rustlers. But he didn't know how much longer his luck would hold out. Not if Tony was getting robbed. This brought everything too close to home.

 

W
HEN
C
ARA APPROACHED
the Noble Sperm Bank her first thought was that it was a mistake. This couldn't be a clinic or a medical office. Maybe she'd been watching too much TV and that's why she thought sperm banks were supposed to be in big medical centers. She certainly hadn't expected the entrance to be an ornate picket fence, with wide-open gates to allow a car to drive through.

She hadn't expected the building to be a one-story white structure, with ten windows along the front that were framed by forest-green shutters. A porch, painted white like the building, went from end to end. A double door was in the middle, green like the shutters, and on each side of the door were five rocking chairs, vacant, swaying gently in the slight breeze. She almost sighed at the rocking chairs. So maternal. She wondered if mothers who had success with the sperm bank brought their babies back and sat on the chairs, nursing the infants. If she lived here, she'd do that. The whole environment was so peaceful, so beautiful. Even though it wasn't what she'd expected, it was perfect.

Cara drove to the gravel area that said Guest Parking. The lot was almost full, mostly with pickup trucks, some old and decrepit-looking, some shiny and new. She was surprised to see that every truck and car had its windows rolled down. The Mustang's top was down, but she pressed the button to return it to its closed and locked position. When she got out of the car she locked the doors behind her. That's what she always did and she didn't think visiting a town like Pegleg was going to change that. Just because everyone else around wasn't careful about their belongings didn't mean she could let down her guard or become careless.

Cara removed the clip she had kept her hair in for the drive and brushed it out, refreshed her lipstick and powder and put on the long-sleeved sweater that matched her pink shell. She touched her earrings, patted down her necklace and finally jiggled the bracelet. She frowned at it. One of the gold brackets that framed a coin was empty and pulled away from the bracelet. The idea that one of the coins was gone upset her. It wasn't just a missing coin. It was a missing piece of her heritage. She checked the rest of the
bracelet as best she could and thought it seemed secure, but she wasn't sure.

As soon as she got back to Erie, she'd take everything to a jeweler, get it all appraised and make sure all the coins were securely fastened. Until she did that, she knew she probably shouldn't be wearing her entire heritage at once. Right now though, she had to, because she was sure the coins were going to bring her luck. She just wasn't sure which piece of jewelry would bring her the most luck, and she was afraid that if she left one at Mandelay, that would be the piece that she would have needed.

Even if she convinced these people she would be a fit and loving mother without a spouse, she still had her own family to contend with. That, she thought as she rubbed the coins on her wrist, would take all the luck each coin could give.

With her head held high, doing her best to look worldly and sophisticated, Cara walked up the steps, opened the door and jingled into the lobby of the Noble Sperm Bank Association and came to a stop so suddenly that every coin clashed ferociously against the next and her heart was pounding even louder than her jewelry.

It was him. Her cowboy. Sitting over there near the pink-haired lady. Could he be the doctor? She quickly glanced around the room, taking in the elderly men. Tigger was there, too, kind of drooling at her, holding a cup. They all held little cups, held out kind of expectantly. Could all those old men be donors?

“Oh, no.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. She couldn't help it. Right now she felt as if she were a peach on the receiving end of a paring knife.

If this was the crop of sperm she had to choose
from, the pickings were not good at all. In fact, some of her mother's selections were starting to look good by comparison. And
that
was something Cara thought she'd never have to say.

S
OMEWHERE IN THE BACK
of Cara's mind she remembered, albeit dimly, that she'd been determined to act sophisticatedly northeastern. Worldly and knowledgeable. Although her knees had almost buckled out from under her, she said, “Fancy meeting you here, Doctor.” All the manners her mother had drilled into her came to the fore.

So, standing very straight, she smiled as she walked toward him. What if he'd volunteer to be her sperm donor? That thought almost brought her to a halt again. Then everything would be so right in her world. The very idea of him with his hand covering his male member and doing what it took to relieve himself in a cup…why, the thought sent flames rushing through her. She could hardly breathe. As if those blue eyes of his held some magnetic force, which she was sure they did, she moved toward him, not able to stop the forward motion despite her thoughts about him. She didn't know that wanting to help him donate sperm was what a prospective mother-to-be should be thinking about.

She took notice of the expressions that had crossed his face. First he'd seemed surprised to see her, then almost joyful. But now he was frowning. She'd just walked in. How could she possibly have disqualified herself for motherhood in such a short time? Surely the memory of a few piddly little chicken wings couldn't have that effect.

Then there was last night. When the top of her sheet fell down, did that disqualify her? Maybe he thought she had done it on purpose and she was promiscuous. She wasn't. And her thoughts a moment ago, he couldn't possibly know what she was thinking.

Could he?

She stuck out her hand and said, “Cara Romano.”

Rex grabbed her hand and held on. He could not believe his good fortune. Cara Romano and his mystery woman were one and the same. She had never said a word about breeding Galloways.

“And you are?” she asked, not even attempting to remove her hand. He wanted to tell her he was her dream come true. Instead, he told her his name.

“You couldn't tell me last night?”

“You didn't either.”

She scowled at him. Such a beautiful scowl. Except the way he figured it, after last night, she should be sending him looks of lust. This wasn't going the way he'd imagined it would go when he would see his mystery woman again. Cara. Beautiful name.

If he had been writing the script, she would have said something along the lines of, “Oh, my dream lover, I have missed you so. The hours spent away from you were agony.” Or, even a more neutral, “You handsome, sexy devil, let's go to my house and count my coins.”

Instead, she had a look of terror and shock on her face—a face even more beautiful than he'd remembered from yesterday. And if he'd heard her correctly, the words of passion she'd uttered when she walked through the door and saw him, were, “Oh, no.”

Barbara came up behind Rex and whispered in his ear, “Batting under five hundred, are you?”

“Not for long,” he murmured, massaging Cara's hand, taking great pleasure in watching her blush. Not many women blushed anymore.

He had an idea for tonight that she was sure to agree to. He'd entice her to dinner and a walk in the park. Maybe a few kisses, or more, before the evening ended. If it ended at all. Hey, they were old friends by now, having seen each other twice. Only, instead of coyly flirting as he had expected, she said, “What a surprise to see you again so soon.”

She leaned a little closer, all that gold stuff around her neck and wrist clinking like mad, and he knew she was trembling at the very sight of him, trembling with desire, which was a much more positive sign than her words would indicate.

Maybe she'd said “Oh, no” because she'd realized just how much he'd seen last night, and the idea that she'd been so exposed to him, when she hadn't intended to be, embarrassed her. He wasn't embarrassed though. All he had to do was look at her beautiful hair, gorgeous face and luscious body, and it was enough to make him have a wet dream right here in the middle of his place of business.

After expending all that energy trying to find out her name with absolutely no luck, it was an act of Providence that Cara and his mystery lady were the same person. That she had come to him. He tried his best to smile in a friendly, professional manner because, after all, he was at work, even if the work he wanted to do was on her. He had a feeling his smile bordered on a leer of appreciation and lustful longings.

“I'm serious, why are you here?” she asked, her voice soft, shaky.

“I'm here because you're here,” he said.

Why did she look so surprised to see him? He didn't get it. “Come on, Kate or Tony must have told you where to find me. You made an appointment.”

“With you?”

“Who do you think?”

They both knew the sexual energy between them was enough to light a fire. He had to ask, in a low voice, “Why do you sound so shocked to see me?” Because he knew she must have known where he was. “Is it for the benefit of the people in the room?”

“Yes,” she breathed. Then she said much more firmly, “No,” in the same breath. “You're my chicken cowboy.” Her gold things jangled even louder. “You're my tree-climbing Romeo.” That firm voice got a little fainter.

“I'm the doctor,” Rex corrected her, feeling his smile slip a little. This was not right. Not right at all. “I'm not a chicken cowboy. Have nothing to do with poultry.” He was a cattleman all the way and proud of it. “This is exactly where I'm supposed to be.”

“You're the doctor?” Taking one step back, she covered her mouth with her hand, but he still heard another, “Oh, no,” even if it was muffled.

Damn. That was the third time. Maybe the fourth. Who was counting? What was wrong with the woman? Her attitude was downright emasculating. Rex glanced at the old boys sitting in the lobby. He didn't need to look at Barbara—he heard her snickering.

Ted had woken up enough to say, “That's the gal he climbed the tree for?” Six others confirmed, still sitting where they always sat, each under the champion-bull picture he felt best evoked his own personality. Only now, instead of leaning back against the wall, which was their way, they were leaning forward. While their eyesight may not be as good as it once was, their hearing was another matter. They were craning their ears to hear what was being said. Ted, being the tallest and the one who did things his own way, gave the others a scornful look and he pulled out his hearing aid. The others might be too vain to
wear one, but Ted clearly wasn't going to miss a thing.

“You're the doctor who does the sperm?” She pointed a gold-coin-bearing arm at him, then swung it to the wall where Noble's Sperm Bank Association declared what the business was all about. “Rex Noble?”

“That's me.”

“I see.” If her voice got any fainter it would fade completely away.

“Purty hair, young lady,” Tigger called out. “Reminds me of Beulah's. You remember Beulah, don't you, Arthur? The old chestnut mare I had. Beulah's tail had the same red in it as that young'un's.” He used his pointer finger to circle the air. “See the way red kinda sparks through the brown with the sun comin' through the window like it is?”

“Shut up, Tigger. She ain't no horse,” Arthur growled.

That's for sure, Rex thought, but Tigger had it right about the lady's hair. While she was wearing a very conservative sweater and skirt, the gold coins hanging around her neck, wrist and ears, coupled with that long, silky-looking hair that reached below her waist—the hair that felt like silk when he wove it through his fingers last night—spoke volumes about the wild streak he knew now she had, even if for the most part it was buried inside her. Because if she knew she had a wild streak, she would never have said, “Oh, no.” She would just have screamed, “Oh, yes!”

Even imagining her saying “Oh, yes” was enough to intrigue Rex to no end. Not to mention the desire he had to run his fingers through her hair once again. This lady was a breath of fresh air after the few Georgiana Rodgers–type of ranching women who frequented his business.

“Let me ask you a question. Why didn't Kate want me to know your name? Why did Rosey want to keep your name a secret? It's just a name. Is there something going on here that I'm not aware of?”

She turned away from him for a moment and glanced at the men sitting in the lobby. Rex followed her gaze. He almost laughed at the old coots as they scooted their chairs away from the wall, getting closer to the action. When they saw the lady watching them, all movement stopped. Some of the guys looked at the ceiling, humming; Harry pretended to clean his fingernails.

“I really don't know. I was thinking the same thing yesterday, and the only thing I could come up with was that a, you're married, or b, you're a serial killer.”

“He's a killer all right, sweetie,” the pink-haired lady chimed in. “He kills them with kindness. And rumor has it, he's a good kisser, too.” She walked over to Cara and held out her hand. “I'm Barbara. I'm the office manager.” She turned to Rex, as if daring him to deny it.

“You can call yourself what you want, Barbara, there's no raise in it for you.”

“I'm Cara, from Erie.”

“I don't know where Erie is. Is it near Dallas?”

“No.” Cara laughed. “It's in Pennsylvania.”

“That's too far away. They talk funny over there, you know, east of the Mississippi, no one can understand them.” She leaned forward and said confidentially, “That's why there's so much crime up there in the East.”

“There's no crime here?” Cara asked.

“Oh, just semen rustling, nothing we can't take care of with a few shotguns.”

Rex put his arm around Barbara and pulled her
away. “You're scaring her. Leave the poor girl alone.”

“What's on the floor there?” Barbara moved toward a shiny gold object by the door. She came back and handed Cara one of the gold coins from her bracelet. “Be careful about these, honey. Don't want you to lose something so pretty.”

After thanking her profusely, Cara confessed that she hadn't felt the coin drop. “That worries me.”

“Don't wear them then, until you get them fixed,” Rex said.

“I have to. They bring me luck. And anyway, I have a feeling, with the cost of what I'm going to do, I'm probably going to have to turn the coins over to you for payment.”

“We'll talk about it.”

“There's something else. Kate and Tony.” Cara fidgeted with the bracelet, then looked up at him, dead serious. “They have no idea I'm here at your clinic today. Do you understand my being here
is
a secret?”

“I'm a doctor. It's unethical for me to tell anyone about anything that goes on between a client and me.”

“What about them?” She tilted her head in the direction of LuLu's benefactors who were in the process of moving toward them once again.

“Get back!” he ordered.

The
clip-clop-clunk
of boot heels and chair legs again stopped.

“Ah, Doc,” Ted whined.

“This is a private conversation.”

There were more grumblings as they scraped back toward the wall. “It's harder going in reverse,” Jasper complained.

Spindly wooden legs stalled in the grout. Chairs with old bones seated on them dipped precariously
backward. “We ain't gonna tell no one no how,” Arthur shouted to the lady.

“No one will know your secret,” Rex promised, looking at the other men. He then whispered so only she could hear, “They're hard-of-hearing.” Then shouted, “Right, boys?”

They nodded. “We're crazy about pickled herring,” Arthur agreed, speaking for the group.

Rex winked at her. “Believe me now?”

“Thank heavens.” The look of relief that came over her face was priceless.

“Okay then. You're here and you don't want anyone to know you're here.”

She smiled. “That's right. Thank you, Dr. Rex Noble.”

Rex, however, was happy again. With the woman of his dreams standing right there in front of him with no food in her hands, and the memory of her wrapped in a sheet burning in his mind, he saw nothing but a lot of possibilities ahead.

He said, “So, how can I help you?”

Cara moved another step closer. Her long hair peeked out from behind her as it waved from side to side. The gold coins around her neck clanged against each other. That high-pitched noise, plus the brightness of the gold, caught the attention of the old men who had started scraping their chairs closer again. At least they all stayed in their chairs. All except Arthur. He got up and approached her. First, he leaned his craggy face close to her ear and touched the coins dangling from the lobe. When he was satisfied with the earring, he lifted her right hand and looked at the bracelet hanging loosely from her wrist. Before Rex realized what Arthur had in mind and could stop him, Arthur nabbed a coin from her necklace, trapped it between his teeth and bit down. She gasped and he let go.

Arthur didn't apologize. What he did do was hand down his verdict. “You got yourself a right fine dowry hangin' round your neck, li'l lady.”

“I haven't thought of these as a dowry.” She touched the necklace. “Why, my grandma, may she rest in peace, would flip over in her grave if she thought I'd ever use these coins for monetary advancement.”

“You're not married, then?” Arthur asked, sliding a glance toward Rex.

She got a strangely defensive look on her face, Rex thought, as she said, “No.” Arthur blew out air and grunted some unintelligible words, but “good catch” and “fine baby-carrying loins” were among the ones Rex understood. Judging from Cara's red cheeks, so did she, but for some reason Rex couldn't fathom, the statements seemed to please her. She was blushing, but she actually looked sort of relieved.

“Sit down,” Rex ordered Arthur. “Behave.”