Nashville Rebel. Sheri WhiteFeather

father role, I’ll always be a family friend. With the way I travel, I won’t be around that much. But at least he or she will know who I am and that I care about his or her emotional well-being. Plus, we can share our past, that you and I grew up together. I think the child would appreciate knowing our history.” He smiled. “We can make this work. I know we can.”

      Her heart warmed. “Thank you, Tommy.” She wanted to hug him for being so kind and conscientious. But she didn’t trust herself to wrap her arms around him, not while the issue of how and when they’d conceive the child hadn’t been resolved. She’d spent years keeping her desire for Tommy at bay, and she had to be careful.

      He continued with his plan. “We’re going to need a legal document to seal our deal. I can ask my brother to handle it. But if you’d prefer to seek your own counsel, I understand.”

      “I’m fine with Brandon representing both of us, if he’s okay with it.” He was like a brother, of sorts, to her, too. It was different with Tommy. There was absolutely nothing sisterly about her feelings for him.

      Sophie frowned. Then why was she making such a fuss about sharing his bed?

      Because he already had tons of women at his disposal, she warned herself, and she’d vowed to never be one of them.

      Yes, but for the sake of conceiving her child, wouldn’t it behoove her to make love with him?

      As her pulse beat mercilessly at her throat, she rubbed the goose bumps peppering her arm. How many times had she fantasized about climbing onto Tommy’s lap? Or sliding her hands down the front of his pants? Or making kittenish sounds in his ear? Sometimes she’d even thought about him when she was with other men, and she knew that was a terrible thing to do. Her last boyfriend had cheated on her, but in her low-down, dirty mind, she’d been unfaithful, too.

      “Are you okay, Soph?”

      She glanced up to find Tommy watching her. “I was just...”

      He searched her gaze. “Making a decision about us?”

      She nodded, struggling to keep her shameful appetite for him from running amok. “Maybe we should talk about—”

      “Are you willing to sleep with me to make this happen? I don’t want to pressure you. Maybe we should—”

      “I’ll sleep with you. But we’re not having a random affair.”

      “I never said this was going to be random, Soph. We’ll be doing this to make a baby. Granted, I’ve always wanted you, but I’m not going to lose sight of our agenda. I’d still like for it to be romantic, though.”

      She couldn’t concentrate on how romantic he wanted it to be. She was trying to hold tight to her emotions. Even with as gentle as he seemed, he was still a playboy, and she was still the woman who was supposed to know better. Deflecting the romance, she said, “There will be certain times that’ll be my best chance for conceiving.”

      “And when will that be?”

      “In another week or so.” Trying to alleviate the heat dashing through her veins, she presented the clinical side. “Most women ovulate in the middle of their cycle, with about five to six fertile days each month. When we’re together, I’ll use a test for accuracy.”

      He furrowed his brow. Clearly, she was talking over his head. “How long do you think it’ll take?”

      “For me to get pregnant? I don’t know. But on the average, most fertile couples conceive within six months.”

      He tapped a finger against his mouth. “Maybe we should do it more often to be sure. When Mack and Jean were trying to have their kids, that’s what they did.”

      “Mack told you that?” He was Tommy’s drummer; she mostly knew him to be a private person.

      “No. But at the last party at my house, I overheard Jean talking to some of the other band wives and girlfriends about it.”

      Sophie hadn’t been included in that conversation. Of course, she wasn’t one of the band wives or girlfriends, either. “You shouldn’t have been eavesdropping on them.”

      “Are you kidding? I love to hear the stuff chicks yap about.” He waggled his eyebrows. “So what do you say? Should we try Mack and Jean’s method?”

      The notion spun through her like a tornado. “Don’t get smart, Tommy. Not now.”

      His expression became somber. “I know you’re crossing a line you never intended to cross by being with me. And you’re right—I shouldn’t be cracking jokes. But I still think my idea warrants consideration.”

      “All right. I’ll think about it. I might even discuss it with my doctor, to see what he thinks is advisable.” She was trying to keep things in perspective, even if her body was hungry for his. “Also, there’s one more thing. Before we go any further, you need to see your doctor and get a sperm-count test.” She wasn’t an expert on semen analysis, but she wanted to be sure there weren’t going to be any problems in that regard. She’d already had her AMH level tested, making certain she was fertile. “The men on the donor sites are required to have above-average counts.”

      “Gee, nothing like putting me under pressure.” He nudged her foot, tapping his boot against her slipper. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Because one way or another, we’re going to make a baby. And I promise we’re going to have lots of fun trying.”

      She didn’t doubt that. But for now, she needed to catch her breath. She stood and moved completely away from him, letting the gravity of the agreement they’d just made sink in.

      After all of these years, they would finally be together.

       Three

      Eager to see Sophie again and share the results of his doctor’s visit, Tommy drove to her house. Only three days had passed since they’d made a decision about the baby business, but if next week was going to be a prime time to conceive, he wanted to be ready.

      He drove onto her ranch and parked, then hopped out of his truck and went into the barn. He’d texted her earlier, and she’d told him that was where she would be.

      She was hard at work, mucking out a stall, and didn’t seem to notice he’d arrived. He stepped back to admire her, with her dirt-smudged jeans and her hair coiled into a messy bun.

      “Need some help?” he asked, announcing his presence. He couldn’t stand here all day like a teenager with his heart pounding.

      She spun around. “Oh, my goodness, you scared me.”

      “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

      “It’s okay. I’m about done anyway.” She finished the job and patted the mare in the stall.

      After she put away the rake, she dusted her hands on her pants. Tommy always thought that she was a fine little cowgirl. When they were kids, she had the gumption to keep up with him, and that was saying a lot. He used to drag her along on his reckless escapades. And now, as adults, they were going to do the most reckless thing of all and make a baby.

      She drank water from a canteen and asked, “So what’s up? What important news do you have to tell me?”

      “I saw my doctor, and my sperm count is great.” Then in an old codger’s voice, he jokingly added, “Those young whippersnappers on that donor site got nothing on me.”

      She rewarded him with a laugh. “Glad to hear it.”

      “So was I.” He quit goofing around and glanced at a sensual line of sweat trailing from her neck and down into the opening of her blouse. The top two buttons were undone.

      She gestured for them to go outside, as if she needed a change of scenery. He walked out beside her and waited a beat before he asked, “Did