Playing by the Baby Rules. Michelle Celmer

I do. You would be an amazing mother, Marisa. You deserve that chance.”

      “Maybe I’m not making myself clear. We’re talking about sex. You and me, having sex. Together.”

      “Are you trying to say that you wouldn’t want to have sex with me? That you find me unappealing?”

      “No! No, it’s not that at all. Jeez, what woman wouldn’t find you appealing?”

      “As far as the gene pool goes, I know I don’t come from the best stock—”

      “Your genes are just fine.” She leaned forward, clasping his hands firmly between her own. “I would be proud to carry your child. My biggest fear—my only fear—is that it might damage our friendship.”

      “You’re my dearest friend, nothing could ever change that.”

      She’d never seen him look so serious, so sincere. He made it sound simple—have sex, make a baby.

      Maybe it sounded too simple.

      “You realize that this isn’t necessarily a one-shot deal. It could take months,” she said. “A year even. If it happens at all.”

      He nodded solemnly. “I understand. I’m in it for the long haul.”

      “And we would have to establish some ground rules. So things don’t get…confusing. Because things could get awfully confusing, Jake. This is going to change everything.”

      “I think setting rules is a good idea.”

      “Can you promise me that, no matter what, this will not damage our friendship? You can handle this?”

      “I can handle it. I promise.” He squeezed her hands. “I want to do this for you.”

      He could handle it, but could she? She knew she should take her time, think this over for a while. She also knew deep in her heart the decision was already made. There had never been a doubt.

      “Okay,” she agreed. “Let’s do it.”

      Marisa set her wine on the coffee table, dug a legal pad from under a pile of newspapers and pulled a purple gel pen from between the couch cushions. “Are you ready?”

      Jake nodded. “Can I take the first one?”

      She marked a big purple One on the first line, noting that her hands had finally stopped shaking but her stomach was still a maze of tightly bound knots. Excitement, nerves, fear—she couldn’t recall ever feeling so many intense emotions all at once.

      “I say that we have to be totally honest with each other at all times if this is going to work. Even about things that might make us uncomfortable.”

      “Okay, rule number one—total honesty. And I think our number two rule should be that we only, um…do it—”

      “Time out.” He held his hands up in a tee shape. “Before we go any further, we should establish what it is we’re going to be doing.”

      She arched a brow at him. “Let me guess, you missed that chapter in Health class?”

      He leaned forward and swatted her foot playfully. “Very funny. I meant, we should decide what to call it. Sex, doing it—there are dozens of ways to label it. I think we should pick one, and stick to it. To keep things consistent.”

      His relaxed attitude did little to ease her nerves. He seemed awfully open-minded about this. Almost too open-minded. Like he did this kind of thing all the time.

      “What do you think we should call it?”

      He rubbed his chin. “Well, to say that it’s just sex seems a little cold considering our main objective. When you’re holding your baby, and you look back on his or her conception, I want it to be with good feelings.”

      Her throat tightened and grateful tears burned behind her eyes. “That is so sweet.”

      He caught and held her gaze, his eyes gentle and full of understanding. “I want to do this right. I love you, and I like to think that you love me, too.”

      She plucked a tissue from a box on the coffee table and wiped her eyes. “You know I do.”

      “Then, I think we should say we’re making love—if you’re comfortable with that. Even though we’re not in love, we do love each other. Right?”

      “Okay, from now on it’s making love.”

      “Settled,” he said. “Back to rule number two.”

      “I think we should agree that we only, um, make love during the period of time that I’m ovulating. You know, since that’s the only reason we’re doing this.”

      He paused for a second, and she could swear she saw a flash of disappointment. Then he nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

      “And rule number three, so it’s consistent, we should establish where we make love, and number four, agree that afterward we go home. No sleepovers. Again, that could complicate things.”

      “Since it stands to reason that at some point we’ll be making love at night, I think it should be here. I don’t want you to have to worry about getting home afterward, and I’m just guessing about this, but you probably want to stay off your feet. So everything stays where it’s supposed to.”

      “That’s a good point. I never even considered that.” She jotted it down. The next one was going to be tough. “Number five, and think good and hard about this one, because you could be looking at a year or more. No sleeping with anyone else while we’re involved. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but with all the nasty diseases out there, I can’t take any chances. We’re going to be having a lot of unprotected sex.”

      “Can I date other women?”

      She tried not to let the question sting. She’d been expecting it, especially after the incident in the bar tonight, and it was only fair. “I don’t see why not. As long as you don’t sleep with them.”

      With hardly any consideration, he nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”

      “You’re sure?”

      He looked hurt by her skepticism. “Of course I’m sure. I know everyone thinks I’m some superstud, but it’s actually very rare that I take a woman to bed. And just so you know, when I do, I always use a condom—no exceptions.”

      “I believe you.”

      “And that brings us to the next rule. Keeping this to ourselves.”

      She had a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. He didn’t want people to know they were sleeping together. That shouldn’t have surprised her. After all, he had his superstud reputation to protect. It still hurt a little. “If you think that’s best.”

      “Until you decide what you want to tell the kid when he’s older, we should keep it quiet. In my business, these things have a way of getting around.”

      Shame burned her cheeks. Why did she automatically assume the worst? Here he was considering the best interests of the baby and she’d taken it as personal insult.

      “At some point we will have to figure out how we want to handle that,” she said. “You know, when he or she asks why Dad isn’t around.”

      “That’ll be phase two, after we actually get you pregnant.”

      “Fair enough. That puts us at number seven.” She grabbed her wineglass and took a hearty swig. She hadn’t said a word and already her cheeks were on fire. God, she hadn’t blushed this much since she was twelve. “Um…”

      “Total honesty,” he reminded her.

      “It’s important that you don’t…pleasure yourself for the two weeks before I ovulate. It’s the only way to keep your sperm count up. The more sperm, the better chance I have of conceiving.”

      He