Nashville Rebel. Sheri WhiteFeather

She rolled aside her chair, obviously trying to make room for him. “Is that better?”

      He nodded and made a show of looking at the screen, where her latest rejection, a surfer-type dude, offered his best smile. “Why are they all so young?”

      “This particular bank only accepts donors in their mid-to-late twenties.”

      “And you’re okay with that?” He didn’t like the idea one bit. “It’s as if you’re robbing the cradle or something.”

      She shook her head. “What about you and those fine young groupies who worship at your feet? At least I’m only looking at these guys for—”

      “How smart and handsome and virile they are,” he interjected. As much as he hated to admit it, he was getting envious of the donors. It almost seemed as if she was searching for a lover. “Maybe you really should send in some pictures of me. You can dredge some up from when I was in my twenties.” He paused for effect. “If you’re lucky, there might be a match.”

      She sat back in her chair, giving him a disapproving look. “Gee, could you be any more conceited?”

      “Don’t act like you don’t think I’m hot because I know you do.” He grabbed the mouse and changed her search criteria, putting in physical features that matched his. He didn’t care if he was annoying her. By now, she should be used to his pesky personality. “Let’s see who pops up.”

      She turned away. “Do whatever you want, but I’m not interested.”

      “Yeah, right.” He didn’t believe that for a second. Sooner or later, she would sneak a curious peek.

      He delved into his task. There were a variety of donors with his body type, as well as hair, skin and eye coloring. Not all of them had pictures available. He focused on the ones who did.

      While he searched, Sophie wolfed down two more cookies. She was still avoiding looking at the screen. It didn’t matter, anyway. He couldn’t find anyone who fit the bill.

      “Never mind,” he said. “They’re all dorks.”

      “Really?” She slanted him a sideways glance. “Every last one of them?”

      He gestured to the monitor. “Take a gander for yourself.”

      “All right, I will.” She settled back into place. “What about him?” She clicked on a candidate Tommy hadn’t given a second thought to—a guy with longish hair and a one-sided grin.

      He scrutinized the picture, wondering what the hell she was thinking. “He doesn’t look like me.”

      “His smile does. His hair would, too, if he cut it and styled it like yours.” She read the profile. “Oh, and get this? He performs in musical theater.”

      Tommy rolled his eyes. “Oh, right. That’s all you need, for your baby to come out singing show tunes.”

      She laughed. “Now who’s being a dork?”

      “I’m serious, Soph. A son or daughter with his genes could turn you into a stage mom. And if you think touring with me is tough, just think of how grueling your kid’s Broadway ambitions are going to be. You need to steer clear of Mr. Musical Theater.”

      She called him out. “You sound jealous.”

      “Of that guy? My offspring would be way cooler than his.”

      She gaped at him. “Your offspring? I can’t believe you just said that.”

      He hated that his chest had turned tight as he defended the remark. “I was just goofing around, trying to get your goat.”

      “Well, knock it off.” Her voice quavered. Even her hands shook. “You’re supposed to be helping me find a donor, but you’re only making it harder.”

      He’d never seen her so worked up. This baby thing was messing with her emotions. With his, too, dammit. “So take Mr. Musical Theater and be done with it.”

      “I don’t want him.” She clicked away from the guy’s profile. “I don’t want anyone who has your smile. Or anything else that reminds me of you. I already...”

      “You already what?” He prodded her to finish what she obviously didn’t want to say.

      She pushed her hair away from her face. “Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

      He wasn’t about to let up. His stubborn streak was stronger than hers. “You better tell me. If you don’t, I’m going to stay here day and night, bugging you for an answer.”

      “Why can’t you just drop it?”

      “Because I don’t like seeing you this way.” He wanted the old Sophie back, the woman who didn’t freak out about everything.

      She fell silent, and he waited for her to respond. Communication had never been a problem for them before.

      Finally, she grimaced and said, “Earlier, when I was at your house, I had this crazy notion about you being the donor. It actually crossed my mind.”

      “Really?” He should have panicked, but somehow he didn’t. If anything, he felt weirdly, wonderfully flattered.

      She squinted at him. “Don’t sit there looking so smug, not after telling me how cool your offspring would be.”

      “Sorry.” He tried to seem less macho, even if he was still feeling his masculine oats. “I shouldn’t have pushed it that far, but you were right about me being jealous. I don’t like you searching for the perfect guy.” He shrugged, still playing down his machismo. “I’m honored that you thought of me, though.”

      She got up and strode to the other side of the room. “It was the most insane idea I’ve ever had.” She stopped and sent him a dubious look. “You’re not thinking it could be possible between us, are you?”

      “I don’t know.” His mind was whirring, the gears spinning inside his head.

      She stood near a bookcase packed with Western novels her dad used to read. Suddenly, she seemed so small and lost—a woman alone, missing her family.

      “It’ll be okay, Soph,” he said.

      She glanced up. “What will?”

      “You finding the right donor and having the baby you want.” Tommy considered the possibility of getting involved. Could he become her donor for real? Since he was on the road more than he was home, he would rarely see her or the child. That would make things easier for all of them, he supposed, with her being the sole parent. But he needed to be sure that the rules wouldn’t change on down the line, that she would never ask more of him than he was capable of giving. “Let’s say for the sake of argument that you did use me. Would it be a permanent agreement, with no expectations or daddy duties from me?”

      “Yes, but you being the donor isn’t going to happen. So why are we even talking about it?”

      Flooded with feelings he couldn’t deny, he went over to her. “Maybe it’s supposed to be me. Maybe I’m the guy who’s meant to do it.”

      She looked shocked. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

      “Yes, I do.” He knew exactly the direction he was taking, and somewhere deep inside, it felt right. “You’ve always been there when I needed you, working day and night, devoting yourself to my career. And as much as I’m going to miss you managing my tours and being on the road with me, it would be nice to know that I participated in making your baby dreams come true.”

      She looked as if she might cry. “That’s really nice, Tommy, but you’re making me feel vulnerable right now.” She backed away from him. “And I have to keep my wits about me.”

      Had he already lost his? Offering himself up like that? His heart was beating triple time.

      “Do