Billionaire Bachelors: Ryan. Anne Marie Winston

thought again of her fears, weighed them against the certainty of years passing her by. Could she marry Ryan? Perhaps he was right about their friendship being a good basis for the marriage. But…what if she didn’t conceive? What would happen then? She had friends who had infertility problems, and the uncertainties put a strain on even the most devoted couple. What would happen to a couple like Ryan and her if something like that happened?

      And then it struck her. What if they compromised? What if she agreed to marry Ryan if, and only if, he gave her a baby? She hadn’t thought that her baby needed a father. After all, she’d survived without one. What her baby needed was love, and that she knew she could give it. But she also knew Ryan. He’d said marriage, and she knew he’d never go for anything less.

      And the thought of giving her child a warm, loving, complete family was very seductive. Maybe they could even have more than one child. Then it struck her—additional children would be conceived far more conventionally if this all came to pass. She’d be tacitly agreeing to a lasting sexual arrangement with Ryan. And in good conscience, she couldn’t pretend that would be a problem.

      The real problem might be keeping her hands off him.

      She shivered suddenly, though she was walking down Marlborough Street now at a brisk pace. Her mind racing, she considered the idea from all angles. As she reached the steps of her building, she nodded once, sharply, then went inside and headed straight for the phone.

      When Ryan’s deep voice said, “Hello?” though, for a moment her throat seized up, and she couldn’t speak.

      “Jessie? Is that you?” His voice was sharp enough to startle her into speech again.

      “How did you know?” she asked.

      “Caller I.D.”

      “Oh.”

      Silence.

      “Jess? Did you call me for a reason or did you just want to breathe heavily into the phone?”

      “I want to talk to you again. About this baby stuff.”

      On the other end of the phone, he sighed. “I don’t believe there’s any point in talking it to death.”

      “I had an idea,” she said. “Could you meet me for dinner?”

      “Three meals in two days. All my adoring fans are going to start to worry.”

      “Maybe they should.”

      “Jess—”

      “Come on, Ryan. Live dangerously. The East Coast Grill? Seven o’clock?”

      “Wow. All the way over in Cambridge? I didn’t know you strayed that far from home.”

      “Very funny. Will you do it?”

      “All right,” he said. “But only because I know you’ll bug me to death until I listen to you. I’m telling you right up front that there is no way I am going to change my mind.”

      “I understand,” she said. “All I ask is that you listen.”

      When she arrived in a taxi at 7:05 he already was waiting. To her eternal amusement he was seated at the bar with a woman on each side of him apparently vying for his attention.

      Jessie walked up behind them and put her hands over his eyes. “Guess who?”

      “Hey, there.” He swiveled around on his stool to face her. “You’re early.”

      The women who’d been speaking to him were eyeing her with something less than friendliness. An imp of mischief seized her, and she placed her hands on either side of Ryan’s face, leaning forward and giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Miss me?”

      “Always.” She hadn’t counted on his quick reflexes. His hands came up before she could draw away. One shackled her wrist, the other cradled the back of her head as he returned a second, much more leisurely kiss. His lips were warm and firm, molding her own as her heart thudded, and she nearly sank into the promise inherent in the lingering caress before she remembered who she was kissing and why. When he let her go, she drew back, flustered.

      He rose and settled a hand at her waist, turning to smile at the women as Jessie blinked and forced herself to focus. “It was nice meeting you.”

      As he seated her and moved around the small table, she sent him an easy grin, determined not to let him see she’d been shaken by that kiss. “Was I helpful?”

      “Infinitely.” He shrugged out of his leather jacket. “I was being accosted.”

      “Well,” she said, “it’s not every day a girl gets to meet an eminently available hunk.”

      “If I hear that phrase out of you one more time,” he said, leaning forward with mock menace, “your derriere is going to meet my eminently available hand.”

      She smiled brilliantly. “Ooooh, sounds like fun. Promise?”

      His eyes narrowed, and that quickly the playful moment metamorphosed into something entirely different, something dark and dangerous with undercurrents of an intensity that caught her breath in her throat.

      “Okay. You folks want to order drinks?” The arrival of the server broke through the stillness between them.

      She sat quietly as Ryan ordered their drinks. What was happening to her? And to the comfortable, familiar relationship she’d had with Ryan?

      “So,” he said when the waitress had returned with their drinks and taken their dinner orders, “what new wrinkle in your mind was so urgent that you had to see me again tonight?”

      “I was thinking about what you said.” She spoke slowly, cautiously.

      “I’ve said a lot of things to you,” he said, unhelpful. “Want to be a tad more specific?”

      “About marriage.” The words fell between them, their ripples widening, breaking up the smooth surface of the conversation.

      His eyes grew more intense, bluer; she felt like a mouse caught in the cat’s corner. “What about it?”

      “Well, I was thinking.” She stopped, swallowed. “If you were to donate—and I did get pregnant—we could maybe get married once the baby was born. I mean, it would be stupid of us to marry assuming we were going to be parents. A lot of things can happen during pregnancy and I wouldn’t want to trap you into anything if it didn’t—”

      “Stop.” He held up a hand, palm out. “You’re babbling.”

      “Sorry. I’m nervous.” She fell silent, biting her lip. “I just thought—”

      His eyebrows rose. “You’ve been doing quite a lot of thinking lately.” He picked up his wineglass and gently swirled the Merlot they were drinking, tilting the glass and absently studying the color of the wine. “Let me see if I understand what you’re proposing. I donate sperm. You, hopefully, get pregnant. If the pregnancy goes to term and we have a child, we marry.”

      She nodded, too embarrassed to look him in the eye but relieved that he’d grasped the idea. “Exactly.”

      “No.” He sat back in his chair, crossing one long leg over the other.

      “No?” Startled, she leaned forward and glared at him. “Why not? I thought you would be happy. This way we both get what we want.”

      “It makes me uncomfortable,” he said. “Where’s the guarantee that you’ll keep your end of the bargain once you get what you want?”

      She was stung by the implication that he didn’t trust her. “That’s not a very nice thing to say. Have I ever given you reason to distrust my word?”

      He shrugged. “No. But this is a life-changing discussion we’re having here, not a promise to water my plants while I’m out of town.”

      She had to admit