The Husband Project. Leigh Michaels

they drove across Chicago to Kit’s lakeside high-rise, Alison wasn’t listening to her friend’s chatter. She was still hearing the unusual soberness in Kit’s voice as she said, Sometimes you don’t seem to need anybody.

      But I do, Alison thought. I need somebody to love.

      

      From the guest room of Kit’s condo, Alison stared down at the enormous expanse of Lake Michigan. The water was clear and blue under the morning sun; a light wind whipped up gentle frothy waves and bulged the bright sails of the armada of boats—at least a hundred of them. Alison could count so many not only because the condo was so high and the air so clear she could see almost all the way across the lake, but because the effort of taking a shower had worn her out so thoroughly that all she could do was drop into the armchair by the window and rest.

      Eventually, however, she pushed herself up from the chair, put on a set of soft knit exercise clothes, and walked down the hall to the kitchen.

      Kit looked up from the chopping block where she was dicing green onions and ham. “Good morning, Ali. How about an omelette?”

      “You don’t need to pamper me.” Alison dropped into a chair beside the breakfast bar. “Surely you’ve got enough to do with your brunch to prepare.”

      “You’re certain you don’t mind? I can still cancel it, you know.”

      “No, you can’t. When you invite ten people for brunch, you can’t change your mind two hours beforehand.”

      “They’d understand.” But Kit sounded a little less than convinced.

      “Well, I wouldn’t. You’ve had this planned for weeks. Cancel and I’ll really feel like I’m imposing on you.”

      Kit shrugged. “You already know better, so there’s no point arguing about it. Shall I set a place for you? You’re looking much better this morning.”

      “And make your numbers odd? Now that would be a disaster,” Alison teased. “I’ll spend a couple of hours lying in one of those canvas chairs on the terrace, hiding behind a ficus tree and reading a book. So party on—you won’t disturb me a bit, and your guests won’t even know I’m here.”

      The terrace was beautiful; it stretched the length of the Websters’s spacious condo and looked out over the lake. Alison chose a chair on the comer just outside the guest room, as far as possible from the elegant living room. If Kit’s brunch guests spilled out onto the terrace, she’d have plenty of warning, and she’d just slip quietly back into her bedroom.

      She tried to read, but the light novel she’d found on the guest room shelves didn’t have the power to draw her in. Instead she found herself gazing at the waves, forming and breaking in a hypnotic rhythm, rolling toward the horizon as they always had and as they would, for eternity.

      Eternity. She’d come a littte closer to it yesterday than she wanted to think about, and of course there wasn’t any need to dwell on that, now. The danger was over, and she’d been very, very lucky.

      However, the reason she’d put off seeing a doctor—the reason she’d hidden behind denial instead of taking care of herself—was just as real now as it had been a few weeks ago when she’d picked up her medical guide, looked up her symptoms, and realized the threat which hung over her head.

      The threat that she would no longer be able to have a child.

      Alison would never forget the sick horror of that instant. She’d always known, of course, that she wanted a child—at least one, maybe several—but she hadn’t realized till then exactly how desperate that longing had become.

      When she stopped to think about it, however, the timing made perfect sense. Her two best friends were focused on family right now; with Kit celebrating her first pregnancy and Susannah newly married and starting to think about children, the subject resounded throughout Tryad at the drop of a paper clip.

      With all that going on, it was no wonder Alison’s biological clock had started to tick. The oldest of the trio by a couple of years, she was getting uncomfortably close to thirty. If she was going to have a child at all, the time was soon. It was no wonder she’d been so frightened when her medical guide suggested that she’d already put it off too long.

      But fortunately her fears hadn’t been real. Once her recovery from the surgery was complete, she’d be in her normal excellent health. There was no reason she couldn’t have a child.

      Of course, there was one minor problem. She was unmarried, and there were no prospects in sight. Which wasn’t to say there weren’t plenty of men in her life—but that was a different matter.

      She got up from her chair and went to lean on the waist-high wrought-iron terrace rail, thirty-five stories above the lake. Kit will have a hard time child-proofing this place, she thought idly. It would be far easier to make her own row house safe...

      Absorbed in her daydreams, she didn’t hear footsteps coming slowly across the terrace.

      A deep, soft voice was the first warning that she wasn’t alone. “Not thinking of climbing over that fence, are you?”

      Startled, Alison twisted to face him, forgetting her incision.

      Logan Kavanaugh crossed the intervening distance in a couple of steps and slipped an arm around her.

      He’d actually put on a jacket and tie for Kit’s brunch party, Alison noted, even as she said irritably, “You don’t have to restrain me. I’m not suicidal.”

      “That’s good. Sara told me she took particular care to leave you a scar that’ll look cute with a bikini, and I’d hate to see her work wasted.”

      Alison rolled her eyes. “I’ll bet.”

      He hadn’t let go of her, she realized. His arm was still around her shoulders. She could feel the rough tweed of his sleeve even through the lightweight knit of her exercise suit. And was it a sudden warm lake breeze which stirred the hair at her temple, or his breath? He seemed to have forgotten how close he was standing.

      Well, that problem was easy to fix. She’d give him her best glare and say something cutting...

      She looked up at him, and in the split second before she opened her mouth she saw the answer to her problems.

      “Dr. Kavanaugh,” she said abruptly. “Will you help me have a baby?”

      CHAPTER TWO

      ALISON was absolutely certain of one thing; no amount of sarcasm could have made him let go of her any more quickly than that simple statement did.

      Logan’s arm dropped as if he’d suddenly realized her shoulders were coated with acid, and he backed away till he was leaning against the terrace rail, a safe distance from her. A casual observer would no doubt think his .professional control was undisturbed, for his face was calm. Alison knew better; she could see the incredulity in those brilliant green eyes.

      “For heaven’s sake,” she said testily. “You’re a doctor who specializes in women. You must know how—” For the first time, she realized that there. was an entirely different interpretation to her question than the one she had meant.

      He obviously saw the double meaning hit her, for a sparkle of humor appeared in his eyes. “If you’re asking whether I know where babies come from, I am familiar with the basics.”

      “I’m sure that’s quite a comfort to your patients.” Alison’s voice was chilly. “Let’s get this straight, however. Don’t flatter yourself that I had you in mind as a potential father.”

      “And that,” he murmured, “is quite a comfort to me. Do I understand that you want to use a medical procedure usually reserved for infertile couples in order to have a child?”

      Alison relaxed just a little. “That’s it, yes.”

      “Well, excuse