The Pregnancy Promise. Barbara McMahon

Suzanne.

      The phone rang. Glad for the distraction, Tray answered on the second ring.

      “Mark here. I made a hash of things,” his friend said.

      Tray leaned against the desk. “What are you talking about?” He had a good idea, but didn’t want his friend to know his part of connecting him with Lianne, or that he’d already spoken with Lianne.

      “I took Lianne out to dinner the other night and spent the entire time talking about Wendy. How dumb can one man be?”

      Tray thought about his own connection with Suzanne and how he’d misjudged her.

      “Join the club. It’s a man thing—act dumb around women.”

      Mark sighed. “Think so?”

      “What happened?”

      “Nothing. I took her home. She smiled all night long but never gave any indication she wanted a kiss or anything. So I thought I’d play it cool. Then I called her last night and only got her answering machine. I’ve called twice today. She never answers. Guess I need to take the hint, huh?”

      “Give her a day or two and try again. If she doesn’t take that call, then give up,” Tray suggested. He knew Lianne didn’t want more dates with Mark, but he hated his friend sounding so down.

      “Maybe. Or maybe I need to get my act together first and get over Wendy. I thought I was ready, obviously not.”

      The two talked for a short time. When he was off the phone later, Tray considered himself lucky he’d been able to get over Suzanne. He hoped he never became so caught up with another person he couldn’t function any better than Mark if the relationship ended.

      He picked up a folder and rose. He’d stop by Lianne’s desk to see if she were in. She often worked on Saturdays. He shook his head, what was he doing—he didn’t need to see her today. Monday would be time enough. Only he continued heading toward her office.

      Lianne wasn’t at her desk.

      He was about to leave when he saw a piece of paper on the floor near her printer. Unlike Lianne to have anything out of place. He crossed and picked it up to place on her desk. Glancing at it Tray was startled to find it was a checklist of some kind—for a father for her baby.

      He put down his folder, nudged her door closed and sat behind her desk, his eyes taking in the list of attributes she wanted in the father of her baby.

      Athletic (no sedentary lifestyle)

      Knowledgeable about many things (to better teach our child)

      Interested in childhood events (school plays, field trips, prom)

      Strong interest in education (college!)

      Interest in finer things (Art galleries, Smithsonian, Kennedy Center)

      Sense of family (there until adult at least)

      Tray read all the items on the list; some were a puzzle to him, but most were clear. Lianne was listing criteria for the father of her baby. Tray gave a sardonic chuckle. How many men would relish being judged on criteria listed instead of on themselves or a spark of attraction between them?

      Curious, he began to jot notes beside each. He spent time behind his desk, but he didn’t consider his life sedentary. He worked out at the gym, liked to ski in winter, sail in summer. And being out in the field kept a man busy providing the needed protection his clients demanded.

      It was after seven by the time he finished. An exercise in getting into Lianne’s mind, he thought as he balled up the paper and tossed it into the trash. He thought he knew how she thought from their working together. But her list surprised him. Not the fact she had a list; as long as he’d known her, she was always jotting down lists. But the various aspects she considered important were the surprise.

      Nowhere did he see anything that applied to a lover or mate for her. Was she so caught up in a baby, she discounted herself?

      He took his folder and left. The offices were silent. Everyone working today had left except the night crew manning the monitors. He passed that large room, glanced in through the glass walls and noted people competently carrying out their assigned tasks. He knew everyone there, but only in a business sense.

      The same way he knew Lianne. But the glimpse into her personal life intrigued him. Especially after thinking about her criteria. Why wasn’t she looking for something for herself? Or maybe there was a page two and he hadn’t seen. The thought almost had him turning around to try to get into her computer to search. But that would be an invasion of privacy, and Tray had a strong sense of right and wrong. It bumped the limits reading the paper from the floor. He would never deliberately go into her files without her permission.

      But it didn’t stop him from speculating what she’d want in a lover.

      He had never thought about her in that light. For a moment he could picture her cheeks flushed with passion, her eyes sparkling and her smile seductive. It wouldn’t take much imagination to see her on a bed, with that glossy brown hair spread out around her and her lips parted in temptation.

      Sunday morning Lianne slept in—at least for her. She rose at eight and took a quick shower. The day loomed endlessly. Last night’s date had been another bust. Maybe there was a reason for her not being part of a couple—she was too picky. But she couldn’t help it. She wanted the best man possible to father her baby. Was it her fault she couldn’t find one? Mark hadn’t appealed to her on a basic level. Not to mention he was still hung up on his ex-wife.

      Peter from Annalise’s office sounded too immature himself to be considered as a father. For some men having children caused them to grow up. In this case, Lianne suspected she would find rivalry between Peter and a baby. Not her ideal situation.

      And somewhere she had to add sex appeal. So far the thought of kissing any of the men hadn’t held any appeal. How could she get naked with them?

      After a hasty breakfast, she put on warm wool slacks and a sweater. She’d run by the office for a little while and make sure she had all the latest data for the head of that African country’s visit next month. Not a big player in world politics, nonetheless she wanted to make sure his visit to the nation’s capital went without a hitch. And one never knew where fanatics lurked.

      Entering the office a short time later, she went right to work. It was almost noon by the time she was ready to take a break. Maybe she’d get a sandwich at the deli up the street and study some of the men there. She felt as if she was becoming skewed in her thinking. Now everything revolved around men, men, men.

      Glancing around as she rose, she noticed a ball of paper in her otherwise empty wastepaper basket. She never did that. Curious, she pulled it out and smoothed it open. It was one of her lists—filled out! She recognized Tray’s handwriting.

      For a moment she was mortified he’d found her list. What had he thought? Then she began to read it. He had actually jotted brief notes by each of her traits. For a moment she felt disoriented. Dare she consider Tray as a possible father for her baby?

      He’d meet all the attributes. Even without his notes on the sides she knew that. He was educated and valued it highly—witness the education matching funds he provided employees and the internships he gave promising college students each summer.

      He had a wide variety of interests, which made him fit in with every single person he protected, be they heads of states or prominent businessmen.

      She knew he had a subscription to the symphony and ballet, as he often gave away tickets when business intruded.

      She looked out the window, hearing her sister’s voice echo—you’re too involved with Tray. She wasn’t, not in that sense. They worked together—closely. But it was strictly business.

      Not that she’d have a problem picturing them kissing. Or doing more.

      She banged her head against the glass. She’d never thought of her boss in that way—but