Книга - Nashville Rebel

Nashville Rebel
Sheri WhiteFeather


The country star’s biggest risk…When his best friend vows to become a single mum, Tommy Talbot is torn. Country music’s baddest bachelor wants to help Sophie Cardinale—as long as commitment isn’t in the cards. But crossing the line from friends to lovers is a dangerous game…







“One way or another,

we’re going to make a baby.”

When his best friend vows to become a single mother, Tommy Talbot is torn. Country music’s baddest bachelor wants to help Sophie Cardinale—as long as commitment isn’t in the cards and they have fun in the process. But crossing the line from friends to lovers to conceive becomes a dangerous game...especially since Tommy never plays by the rules.


SHERI WHITEFEATHER is an award-winning, bestselling author. She lives in Southern California and enjoys shopping in vintage stores and visiting art galleries and museums. She is known for incorporating Native American elements into her books and has two grown children who are tribally enrolled members of the Muscogee Creek Nation.

Visit her website at www.sheriwhitefeather.com (http://www.sheriwhitefeather.com).


Also by Sheri WhiteFeather (#uf9bd4316-f001-59ce-892c-5f52e976c1df)

Waking Up with the Boss

Single Mum, Billionaire Boss Paper

Wedding, Best Friend Bride

Wrangling the Rich Rancher

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Nashville Rebel

Sheri WhiteFeather






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-07701-9

NASHVILLE REBEL

© 2018 Sheree Henry-Whitefeather

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Contents

Cover (#ue5272680-6022-54c0-aa0f-fa9bcd7fa9c0)

Back Cover Text (#ucd0a7972-05e6-50d2-ac73-080d5cdabe95)

About the Author (#uec29eb37-b173-5482-a8a2-72330c5d95e0)

Booklist (#ufecf0bbd-7659-5aa2-acba-057c42cea9a0)

Title Page (#ud9f6e73e-d28f-534b-ac35-8630baa2c38b)

Copyright (#u75c6d8d0-71c1-566a-ac27-ffad46792dfd)

One (#u3be1139c-7527-5c36-a1d6-422504abce23)

Two (#ud50a4100-45b5-5843-b20a-9427b2ab5ac6)

Three (#ua1ef9c2b-39b0-5d5e-9863-d57fbb5bab4a)

Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)


One (#uf9bd4316-f001-59ce-892c-5f52e976c1df)

Sophie Cardinale couldn’t do it anymore.

She couldn’t be Tommy Talbot’s tour manager, living her life on the road with nothing except the sound of Tommy’s music roaring in her ears. She needed to put down roots, to get a desk job, to have a baby. At thirty-four, her biological clock wasn’t just ticking; it was on the verge of exploding. She’d been thinking about this for the past year, day in and day out. It never,ever left her mind. But she hadn’t told Tommy yet. He wasn’t just her gorgeous, wild, pain-in-the-ass boss; he was also her closest and dearest childhood friend.

Sophie’s father had worked for Kirby Talbot, Tommy’s country-music-legend dad. Her dad had been Kirby’s guitar tech up until the day he’d passed away, a little over two years ago. Sophie had never known her mom. She’d developed postpartum preeclampsia a month after she’d given birth to Sophie and had died as a result. Mom had been the love of Dad’s life. He’d talked about her all the time, reminiscing about how sweet and beautiful she was. Her parents had met on the road, in the mid-1970s, when turquoise jewelry and leather vests reigned supreme. At the time, Mom worked for Kirby Talbot, too, as his wardrobe mistress. They got married, and Sophie had been born a decade later. Kirby had adored both of her folks. They were like family to him.

In fact, after Mom died, Sophie, her dad and her granddad, who’d also helped raise her, lived in one of the guesthouses on the Talbot family compound. That was how she’d gotten to know Tommy so well. According to his mother, they’d bonded as babies when she used to “borrow” Sophie to keep him company in his playpen. But mostly Sophie thought that Tommy’s mom just felt sorry for her since she didn’t have a mom of her own.

During their adolescence, Sophie and Tommy were inseparable, spending their time jumping out of trees, riding green broke horses and speeding around on his dirt bikes together. In those days, Sophie had been a pixie-haired, doe-eyed tomboy who’d had a crush on Tommy, and did almost anything he dared her to do. But she’d calmed down since then. Tommy? Not so much. He was still a daredevil, especially on stage.

Tommy trained with some of the best stuntmen in the business. His most recent act involved riding a mechanical bull on a rising platform. He even stood up and danced on the bull to the opening riff of “Rebel with a Country Cause,” one of his most popular songs. During his dance, the floor below him would erupt into flames.

His stunts weren’t always planned or practiced. If he wanted to climb lighting trusses or do backflips into the crowd or douse his guitar with lighter fluid and set it on fire, he merely took it upon himself to do so.

On this latest tour, the one that had just ended, the pyrotechnics guys kept threatening to quit if Tommy didn’t follow the rules. But it wasn’t Tommy who had to suffer the wrath of the road crew. It was Sophie. Everyone took their complaints to her, expecting her to keep Tommy in line.

In the beginning, working for him had been exciting. She used to get a dangerous thrill out of it. Now, all these years later, she just wanted some peace and quiet.

But mostly she longed to become a mom. She’d already been checking out sperm banks, and soon she would be ready to concentrate on choosing a donor. Sophie had a bad track record with men. She’d given up on finding the right guy, and by now she needed some emotional security in her life. For her, becoming a single mom was the answer, even if it meant quitting her job and finding a new one in order to do it.

So here she was, behind the wheel of her truck, driving to Tommy’s ranch, to give him her notice. Sophie lived outside of Nashville, in the same area as Tommy. She had a modest home on a mini ranch, with two horses and two dogs, all of which she boarded at Tommy’s place when she traveled with him. His spread was huge, boasting a custom-built mansion and a slew of ranch hands and caretakers. By now, Tommy was as rich and famous as his legendary father. Maybe even more so. Whereas Kirby Talbot had been deemed “the bad boy of country,” Tommy had become known as the “the baddest boy of country,” surpassing his dad in that regard. Mostly Tommy had earned that reputation because of how reckless he was on stage. But him being such a ladies’ man was a factor, too, which had never sat well with Sophie.

As she approached the private road that led to Tommy’s estate, she sighed in relief. Thankfully there weren’t any fans at the gate, clamoring to see him coming or going on this September afternoon.

She buzzed the intercom and announced her arrival, and his security chief let her through. She’d already texted Tommy and told him to expect her. But she hadn’t revealed the nature of their meeting or what it would entail. It wasn’t going to be easy—of that she was certain. Tommy wasn’t going to want her to quit. He wouldn’t be happy about the reason she was quitting, either. Babies had become an anxiety-ridden subject with him. Earlier this year a woman named Kara Smith, with whom he’d had a one-night stand, claimed that he might be the father of her unborn child. He wasn’t, as it turned out. Tommy was extremely careful about practicing safe sex. But the possibility that the protection could have failed still scared him and had taken an emotional toll on his bachelor, happy-go-lucky lifestyle.

After Sophie parked in the circular driveway, she exited her vehicle and smoothed the front of her tank top over her flat stomach. Hopefully a few months from now, she would have a cute little baby bump.

She rang the bell, and Dottie, the woman who ran Tommy’s house, answered the door. She was the nicest lady, a grandmotherly type, who fussed over Tommy as if he was her own. But she wasn’t a pushover, either. When the pigheaded superstar needed a tongue-lashing, Dottie was more than willing to do it, even if her reprimands didn’t make a bit of difference.

“Hi, Dot.” Sophie entered the colorfully tiled foyer. “Will you let Tommy know I’m here?”

“He’s already waiting for you by the pool.” When Dottie smiled, her friendly blue eyes crinkled beneath her glasses. Her salt-and-pepper hair was fixed in its usual short-and-simple style.

Sophie had a mass of long, wavy brown locks that never behaved. She was considering cutting it. Not now, but maybe after the baby was born. The baby she hadn’t even conceived yet, she reminded herself. She needed to hurry up and plant that seed.

“Do you want me to bring you something cool to drink?” Dottie asked. “Or some lunch, perhaps? Chef already has chicken salad with cranberries and walnuts ready to go.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine. I don’t need anything, except to talk to Tommy. I’ll just go see him now.”

She headed for the backyard, with its gigantic, lagoon-style grotto pool. Beneath the center waterfall was a waterproof cave, which had an entertainment room with rock walls, stone floors and a glamorous sitting area, complete with a spectacular sound system, a big-screen TV and a tiki-type bar. Tommy had built that room for his guests. For himself, he’d created a private apartment, accessible from yet another waterfall, for when he wanted to be completely alone and relax beneath his pool. No one except him had ever been inside it. He didn’t even take his lovers there.

She saw him lounging in the sun, listening to music on a portable device, the earbuds planted firmly in place. His eyes were closed, and his light brown hair was still damp from a recent swim.

She was lucky that he was wearing trunks. Tommy had no qualms about nudity, and skinny-dipping was one of his favorite pastimes. Tempting as he was, whenever he stripped down in front of her, she tried to avert her gaze from the parts that mattered. She also made darn sure that he’d never seen her naked. Even when they were kids and splashing around in the stream on his daddy’s property, she’d never peeled off her swimsuit in front of him—no matter how often he baited her to do it.

Sometimes he still baited her to get naked with him. And not just for swimming. Thing was, Tommy had been trying to hook up with her since high school. Yet even during their teenage years, he had too many other girls around him. After they graduated, Sophie had gone to college, while he focused on his music and gained notoriety. She’d earned a business degree and started working for him. She’d never considered the boss/employee aspect of their relationship a problem. In her own sinful way, she thrived on his playful flirtations. But since she was supposed to be the voice of reason, she made sure that he knew her boundaries. Nonetheless, she also fantasized about having a ridiculously steamy affair with him. Of course, that didn’t mean she was going to act on those feelings. Her concern was his inability to settle down.

Tommy used sex like a weapon, a gun he never quit firing. Mostly he partook of groupies. On occasion, he had regular girlfriends, too. But he never made commitments to any of them. Brunettes, blondes, redheads: they were all his playthings.

Not this brunette, she reminded herself. She wasn’t going to share his bed, no matter how exciting the experience might be.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes and stared straight at her. Funny how he sensed her presence at the very moment her mind was immersed in sex.

Sophie squinted at him, and he smiled. He had a lopsided grin that made him look like the troublemaker he was. Only his wildness wasn’t fueled by anything except his hot-blooded nature. Although he threw some extravagant parties, Tommy never drank alcohol. He didn’t do drugs, either. His father was a recovering alcoholic and addict, and Tommy vowed to never be like him, at least not in that regard.

She moved closer. The drink holder in the chair’s armrest held his beverage of choice: a bottle of berry-flavored sparkling water. When he was on the road, she made sure that his hotels, dressing rooms, tour buses and private jet were all stocked with it.

He removed the earbuds. “Hey, Sophie-Trophy,” he said, using one of the many nicknames he’d given her. Anything that rhymed, he used. Mostly he had to make up words. There weren’t a lot that rhymed with Sophie or Soph. Or even Sophia, for that matter.

She sat in the chaise longue next to him and greeted him with a simple “Hello.”

Idiot that she was, she stole a glance at his navel and the line of hair that disappeared into the waistband of his trunks. If he’d been naked, she never would have dared to look that low on his body. But for now, she took her fill. Or thrill. Or whatever.

Luckily, she’d worn shorts and sandals today. She didn’t feel out of place sitting by the pool. But that didn’t make her any less nervous about revealing her agenda.

Before she got the chance to start the conversation and spin it her way, he said, “I hope you came by to talk about extending the tour. I know it’s supposed to be over, but I was thinking we could add more dates.” He frowned into the sun. “I’m already going bonkers sitting around here and we’ve only been back for a few days.”

She frowned, too. Not at the sun, but at him. “I know how stir-crazy you get when you’re not on the road, but adding more dates is the last thing I’ve been thinking about.”

He grabbed his water and took a swig. After he swallowed a noisy gulp, he asked, “So what’s the deal, then? Why did you call this meeting? Am I in trouble? Is the insurance company threatening to raise my rates again?”

“No, it’s nothing like that.” She steadied her voice. But then she got antsy and just blurted it out. “I’m giving you my notice. I’m quitting so I can get a job with regular hours and less travel and have a baby.”

If the pavement had just opened up and swallowed him whole, he wouldn’t have looked more surprised. “Damn, really? You’re pregnant? By who?”

He sounded offended. Or annoyed. Or frustrated. But he always acted that way when she was dating someone. As reliant as he’d become on her, he got jealous when she gave her attention to someone else. So much so that he tended to butt heads with her lovers. Not that she’d had many men. She’d never been in a relationship that was worth a damn. Her last boyfriend, a record exec, had cheated on her with his twentysomething assistant.

“I’m not pregnant yet,” she replied. “But I plan to be.”

A muscle tightened in his jaw. “Did you and Cliff get back together? Are you going to marry that jerk?”

She shook her head. “Are you kidding? I’d never get back with him, not after the way he betrayed me. I’m not planning on having my baby with anyone. I’m going to be a single mom.”

He had a confused expression. “The last time I checked, it takes two to make a baby.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “I’m going to use a sperm bank.”

“You’re picking the guy out of a genetic lineup? Come on, Soph. That’s crazy.” He frowned again. “Besides, when did you get so maternal? I never knew you wanted kids.”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. And at my age, I can’t wait forever. The older a woman gets, the more steps she needs to take to ensure a healthy pregnancy.”

Tommy sat a bit more upright. “Have you cleared this with your doctor? You’re not at risk for what your mom had, are you?”

“There could be hereditary issues, but they can’t predict whether it would happen to me. Either way, my doctor assured me that they would closely monitor me for any signs of a problem. My mother didn’t report her symptoms when they first appeared. She wasn’t aware of how serious it was.”

“Yeah, but still. Maybe you should just forget the whole thing.”

“I can’t.” She craved the wonderment of being a mom. It was especially important since she’d never known her mother, and with her dad being gone a few years now, she missed having a family. Her grandpa had passed away a while ago, too. Sophie was all alone. “I’ll never feel complete if I don’t do this.”

He winced. “So you’re determined to go through with it?”

“Most definitely.” She wasn’t giving this up for anything. “I haven’t put any feelers out there for another job. I wanted to give you my notice first. But I know enough people in this industry to find something suitable.”

“You don’t have to stop working for me. I can get you set up in the management office. You can join Barbara’s team. I’m sure she would be happy to have you on board. She’s always singing your praises, going on about how you’re the only person who’s truly capable of handling me.”

“I certainly try.” As for Barbara, she was his business manager, and the poor woman had her work cut out for her, trying to get Tommy to follow her advice. But she stuck by him, was loyal to the core. Of course, Tommy had offered Barbara a lucrative deal to represent him, making him her one and only client.

“Are you interested?” he asked.

“Yes, actually, I am.” She would rather stay with his organization than start over somewhere new. But she had certain conditions if she was going to remain with him. “I’ll call Barbara and arrange a meeting with her. But I want the same pay and the same benefits I have now, with Monday-through-Friday hours. No overtime, no mandatory weekends and no gigs. I’m not attending any of your shows, not even the local ones.”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed. “You say that now, but I know what a workaholic you are.”

“I mean it, Tommy. I’m not going to babysit you anymore.”

“All right, all right.” He held up his hands, Old West style, as if she was preparing to shoot him. “You can have whatever you want.” He lowered his hands. “I just don’t want you to go off and start working for someone else. It’s going to be tough to replace you, as it is. I need you, Soph.”

His words sent a jolt of heat through her veins. Damn, she hated it when he had that effect on her.

He raised his water bottle in a mock toast, his hazel eyes locking onto hers. “You’re my go-to girl.”

She forced herself to hold his gaze. The unwelcome heat was still attacking her body, but glancing away would be admitting defeat. She didn’t want him to know he was making her weak.

“You mean ‘woman,’” she said.

“What?”

“Go-to woman. I haven’t been a girl since you put that rubber snake down the front of my shirt.”

He burst into a reminiscent laugh. “You’re right—you’re all grown up now. Damn sexy, too.”

Well, hell. Could he make it any worse? Struggling to form a response, she tried a joke. “Yeah, and I’m going to be one hot mama, too.” She made a big, sweeping motion over her abdomen. “Just wait until you see me then.”

He kept staring at her. Only now he was looking at her as if she was a specimen under a microscope—a pretty little organism he didn’t quite understand.

“I’ve never touched a pregnant woman’s stomach before,” he said. “When the kid is kicking, will you let me feel it?”

The heat intensified, deep in her bones. “After your recent baby scare, I’d think you’d be more shy around pregnant women.”

He shifted in his chair. “I’m just lucky they were already able to do a paternity test.”

“Yes, you got lucky.” Kara wasn’t due for four more months, but there was no reason to wait for the baby to be born. They’d agreed on a NIPP, a noninvasive prenatal paternity test, where their blood had been collected to do a DNA profile on the fetus. They’d done it just nine weeks into her pregnancy. Tommy’s brother, Brandon, had suggested the procedure. He was Tommy’s attorney. Overall, everything had been kept quiet. Kara hadn’t gone to the press, so Tommy had dodged that bullet, too.

He tugged a hand through his hair. “I’m just glad that poor kid didn’t get stuck with me being its dad. Not just from an emotional standpoint, but with the way I travel, too. I’d feel awful if it was waiting around to see me, like Brandon and I used to do with our dad. I don’t know how I’d cope with the distress it would cause. Some people take their kids on the road with them, but I couldn’t fathom doing that, either.”

“Me, neither.” Sophie’s mom had been prepared to stay home to raise her, but she’d died before she had a chance. “I want to be a traditional parent, tucking my son or daughter into his or her own bed every night.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll do great. But at some point, your kid might wonder who its father is.”

“I’ve already considered that.” She’d spent every waking hour contemplating her options. “But I’m not sure if I want to use an open donor or not.”

He sent her a blank look. “Open?”

“It’s where the donor is open to contact with the child. But it can only occur after the child turns eighteen, and only if he or she requests to meet him.”

“I wonder how much of a difference that would make. I guess it would depend on the type of guy the donor turned out to be. I think having no dad would be better than having a bad one. Or one who is barely around, or drunk or stoned, like my old man was most of the time.”

“At least Kirby is trying to make amends and be a better father to all of you.”

“He still has a long way to go, especially with Matt.”

Sophie nodded. Matt Clark was the half brother in Texas whom Tommy and Brandon had never even met. Kirby had fathered Matt with one of his mistresses while he was still married to Tommy and Brandon’s mother, which eventually resulted in their divorce. It was a long and sordid story that was going to be revealed in a biography Kirby had sanctioned about himself. In a strange twist, it was Matt’s fiancée writing the book. She’d met and fallen in love with Matt while she was researching it.

Now that Tommy’s tour had ended, they were supposed to have a family gathering at the Talbot compound sometime within the next few weeks to get acquainted with Matt. His fiancée was already there, working with Kirby on the book. Both Tommy and Brandon had met her a while back, when they’d agreed to be interviewed for the biography.

No one had asked Sophie to be part of the book. But she hoped that she could attend the upcoming gathering. She was curious about the son Kirby had kept hidden away from the world. At one point, he’d even abandoned Matt.

“So how does it work?” Tommy asked.

She blinked at him. “I’m sorry. What?”

“Choosing a donor.”

She quit thinking about his family and focused on his question. “Sperm banks have websites with their donors’ information. So all you have to do is search their catalog for donors who fit your criteria. In some cases, they’ll provide childhood and adolescent photos of the donors. Some will even let you see adult photos. If the donors who fit your criteria are keeping their profile pictures private and you want your donor to resemble someone specific, you can send the sperm-bank photos showing what you want him to look like. Then they’ll go through your donor choices and rank them by how closely they match.”

“Really?” His lopsided smile resurfaced. “You should send in some pics of me.”

“That’s not funny.” She swung her legs around and kicked his longue chair, rattling the base of it. She wasn’t pleased that he’d put the idea in her head. She wouldn’t mind if her child resembled him. He was beautiful to look at, with his straight, easy-to-style hair, greenish-brown eyes and ever-playful lips. There was also a gentle arch to his eyebrows, lending his features a comforting quality—when he wasn’t making faces. She’d known him for so long that everything about him was familiar.

He leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. He had an artist’s hands, with long fingers. He played a mean guitar, but her favorite songs of his were ballads he’d mastered on the piano, with hauntingly romantic lyrics. He sang about being painfully in love, even if he didn’t know the first thing about it. Sophie had never been in love, either, not where it tormented her soul or ripped her heart apart.

“Maybe I can help you choose a donor,” he said.

She all but flinched. His suggestion caught her off guard, making her wonder what sort of nice-guy stunt he was trying to pull. “You want to help me select the father of my baby?”

“Sure. Why not?” He tilted his head nearly all the way to the side, as if he was sizing her up somehow. “Remember when I used to help you with your chemistry homework?”

“Yes, of course.” He was good with numbers. Math and science came easily to him. “But this isn’t a school project.”

“I know.” He righted the angle of his head. “But we’re like family, you and me. The least I can do is support you on this however I can.”

“Thank you.” Suddenly she wanted to touch him, to put her hands where they didn’t belong, to skim his exquisite jawline, to run her fingers through his still-damp hair. “That means a lot to me.” More than it should. It even made her imagine him being the donor, which was about the dumbest thought she could’ve had. She wiped it out of her mind, but it spiraled back, undermining her common sense.

He asked, “Should we do it tonight?”

She struggled to comprehend what he meant. Her brain wasn’t behaving. She was still stuck on the stupid notion of him being the donor, which was complete and utter lunacy.

“Should we do what?” she finally asked.

“Look through the sperm-bank sites. I’ll ask Chef to make a batch of his double-chocolate-chip cookies, and I’ll bring them with me. I know how chocolate helps center you.”

“Yes, let’s do it,” she said, finally managing to rid her jumbled mind of the idea of having his child. “Let’s go through the sites tonight.” She needed to find a donor, a stranger.

And she was going to make sure it was someone who looked nothing like Tommy, someone who didn’t have the slightest thing in common with him.


Two (#uf9bd4316-f001-59ce-892c-5f52e976c1df)

Tommy sat next to Sophie at the computer desk in her home office, where they’d been for the past hour. She scrolled the donor search catalogs she’d bookmarked.

He could barely believe this was happening. Not just her wanting a baby, but the fact she was resigning as his tour manager. She was supposed to be a permanent fixture on the road, a constant he could count on. Sure, she would be an asset to his business management team. But that wasn’t the same as her managing his tours. Life on the road was the soul of his existence, what he loved most about his job, and Sophie had always been part of it.

He studied her profile and the way her unruly hair framed her face, with one strand falling farther forward than the rest. He’d always been fascinated with her hair. When they were kids, she’d kept it short. She was just the cutest thing back then, following him everywhere he went. He wished that she was still trailing after him, instead of bailing out to have a baby.

So far, her donor search wasn’t going well. She rejected one guy after the next. But Tommy didn’t mind. He hoped that she might forget the whole idea, anyway.

With a sigh, she reached for one of the cookies he’d brought, dunked it in her milk and took a gooey bite. She kept dunking and eating until it was gone.

A second later, she licked the lingering mess from her lips, making him hungry to kiss her. Of course, that wasn’t anything new. He’d been longing to taste that pouty mouth of hers since they were teenagers. If he thought he could haul her off to bed, he would strip her bare this very instant. Some people believed that sex between friends would complicate matters, but Tommy wasn’t of that mind-set. Of course he had to consider Sophie’s feelings, and he understood that being friends with benefits wasn’t her style. She’d made that clear a long time ago.

He leaned closer to get a whiff of her perfume. She always smelled so sweet and good.

She shot him a wary frown. “What are you doing?”

He lied like a schoolboy. “You’re blocking my view.” Earlier she’d attached a large monitor, mouse and keyboard to her laptop to make their joint effort easier; he could see just fine.

“Sorry.” 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. “Youroffspring? 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 you even know what being a donor entails?” she asked.

He gestured to the monitor, which had gone black. “I know as much as the guys on those websites do.”

“But this is different. We’re not strangers. In our case, there would be a lot more to consider, particularly with how entwined our lives are. I understand that you aren’t interested in playing an active role as the father. I’m good with that, too. I want to be a solo mom. But would we tell the child who you are at some point? Or would you prefer to be completely anonymous, with no one ever knowing it was you?” She set her mouth in a grim line. “I couldn’t make those types of decisions for you.”

“And I can’t make them on the spot.” He understood there was a lot at stake, legal and emotional issues that could impact the future. He wasn’t taking this lightly. “I need time to mull over the details, and once I’ve thought them through, we can discuss it further.”

“It’s just all so much.” She seemed scared, uncertain if he could handle it.

He encouraged her to give him a chance. “Why don’t we sleep on it tonight, and in the morning, we can both see how we feel?”

“Okay.” She backed herself against the bookcase. “There’s no harm in that, I guess.”

He didn’t move forward or invade her space. He kept a formal distance, even if he ached to press his body against hers. “I am sure of one thing. If I’m your donor, I don’t want to use artificial insemination. I want to make that baby the natural way.”

When her breath hitched, he knew that he’d just sent a surge of good old-fashioned lust through her blood. At least he had that in his favor.

“I don’t know, Tommy. I just don’t...”

He tried to help her relax by saying, “You don’t have to decide now. I’m not trying to rush you. But I’m not going to pretend that I don’t want to be with you, either.”

“I’m more than aware that you’ve always wanted us to be lovers. And you know that I’ve always been attracted to you, too. But this is a lot to consider.”

“Just think it over, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Before she made an attempt to fall into step with him, he added, “There’s no need to walk me out.” He knew the way to her front door.

She nodded and let him go, without another word between them.

Sophie barely slept a wink. She’d spent most of the night wondering what to do. And now, at the crack of dawn, she stood in the kitchen sipping her second cup of coffee with unanswered questions still swirling in her mind. Should she refuse Tommy’s offer and choose another donor? Would having a baby by him be too complicated or would it make the process easier? And then there was the sex. Should she give up the fight and sleep with him or keep it professional and insist on insemination?

So much uncertainty, she thought. So much she’d yet to figure out. But maybe all of her worrying and wondering would be for nothing. Maybe Tommy would revoke his offer, and the decision to use another donor would be made for her.

Preparing for that possible outcome, she retrieved her laptop and went into the dining room. Settling in for a brand-new search, she logged on to a different site from the one she and Tommy had used.

After sitting there for what seemed like forever, she glanced at the vintage cowgirl clock on the wall. Two hours had passed, and she hadn’t found anyone who seemed right. Now that the donors were in direct competition with Tommy, she couldn’t help comparing them to him.

Sophie heaved a sigh and reconsidered the musical-theater guy from the original site, but her attraction to him wasn’t strong enough. She needed someone who could hold his own against Tommy, a man who made her heart skip a beat.

Which was stupid, she knew. Before Tommy had offered to be her donor, she wasn’t concerned about being sexually attracted to the man she chose. But now that seemed to matter, somehow.

So maybe she should stop looking at donors with current profile pictures and focus on the ones who only had photos from childhood. Maybe that would solve her dilemma.

Unfortunately, it didn’t. None of the kid pics looked enough like Tommy when he was young to make her want to choose the grown-up donor.

Dang it, she thought. Tommy had doomed her, ruining her chances of accepting anyone else. But there was still a lot to consider. If she used Tommy as her donor, they needed to discuss every aspect of what the future would entail. They’d already agreed he wouldn’t play an active role as the father. But would he want to engage with the child in other ways? Or would he prefer to keep his identity hidden?

Whatever his decision, she was certain that they would always be friends. They’d know each other their entire lives. That was a bonus, particularly in a situation as sensitive as this one. Surely, between the two of them, they could make something like this work.

She could only hope that he hadn’t changed his mind. She wanted him to be the donor.

Did that mean she was ready to sleep with him, too? God help her, she honestly didn’t know.

Her phone pinged, signaling she had a text. She removed it from her shirt pocket. Tommy was up and wanted to come over now. She quickly replied to his message, as anxious as could be.

She considered changing her clothes, but decided to stay as she was, keeping it real. Her oversize men’s shirt had belonged to her grandpa, and she wore it hanging loose over a pair of floral-printed leggings. Her shoes were fuzzy green slippers she’d bought at an offbeat boutique somewhere—she couldn’t remember what city or state.

A short while later when the doorbell rang, she nearly skidded across the hardwood floor to answer it.

She flung open the door; the first thing she saw was both of her Pembroke Welsh corgis prancing on the porch. Typically, they came in and out through a doggy door in the den, but they were grinning at her as if they’d just rung the bell. Of course, it was Tommy who’d done it. He’d obviously let them into the front yard by way of a side gate.

The dogs scampered past her, but Tommy stood where he was, strikingly handsome in a simple straw Stetson. He towered over her five-foot frame. She always wished that she was taller, especially around him.

He shifted his booted feet. “How’re you doing, Sophie?”

“I’m okay.” She didn’t want to admit that she was a basket case. “Doing the best I can.”

“Me, too.” His eyebrows rose slightly. “Are you going to let me in?”

She wasn’t blocking the doorway, was she? She stepped back, realizing that she was. Struggling to get a grasp on her emotions, she led him to the living room.

He plopped onto the sofa, the leather upholstery creaking beneath his butt. “I hardly slept.”

“Me, neither.” She sat next to him, relieved that she wasn’t the only one who’d tossed and turned. But she couldn’t take any more small talk. “Are you still interested in being my donor?”

“I definitely am.” As sunlight spilled in from the windows, his eyes changed color, turning from green to brown to green again. “What about you? Do you want it to be me?”

Sophie nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“Good.” He removed his hat and tossed it on the coffee table, making his eyes more visible. But at least they’d settled on a color. “There’s a lot we have to discuss. Where do you want to start?” he asked.

With kissing you, her whirring mind answered. With tasting the sexy slant of your lips. Shaking away the traitorous thought, she said, “Let’s start with the type of donor you decided to be.”

He had a ready reply. “I want an open situation. No secrets, no lies. I don’t want to mimic my dad, having a child no one knows about. I’d prefer that everyone was aware of our arrangement, including the kid when he or she is old enough to understand.”

Sophie relaxed a little, feeling as if they were making headway. “I would’ve respected your wishes if you wanted to remain anonymous. But I agree that it would be better if everyone knew the truth.”

“If you want, we can join forces to tell the kid. When the time is right, we can explain that even though I’m not in the traditional 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 (#uf9bd4316-f001-59ce-892c-5f52e976c1df)

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 you call your doctor about what’s advisable? About how often we should...”

“Yes, I called him.” She hesitated before she added, “He recommends frequent encounters, especially during my ovulation window.”

He moved closer and touched her cheek, marveling at how soft her skin was. “You’re allowed to let down your guard and enjoy it, Sophie.”

“I know.” She met his gaze, and they stared at each other.

He lowered his hand. Suddenly he felt as overwhelmed as she looked. There was another subject he wanted to discuss with her.

They headed for a shade tree. The sun was already bright in the sky. She drank more of her water, and he braced his back against the trunk, feeling the rough bark through his shirt.

Finally he said, “There’s something else I spoke to my doctor about.”

“What is it?” She sounded concerned. “What’s going on? Do you have a health issue?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. But I’ve made a decision. After you have the baby and we know everything is all right, I’m going to get a vasectomy.” He tried not to wince. The procedure itself gave him the willies, but the end result was important enough for him to follow through.

Her soulful brown eyes went big and wide. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I’m never going to be a donor again, and I don’t want to get caught up in another baby scare like I did with Kara, or accidentally make someone pregnant for real. I figured this way, there will only ever be one child in the world with my genes, and that kid will belong to you.”

“I don’t know what to say about that, Tommy.”

“You don’t need to say anything. I just wanted you to know that’s what I’ve got planned. I also want you to know that I’m going to set up a trust for the baby, for when it’s older.”

She studied him in a way that made him feel emotionally exposed. Then she said, “That isn’t necessary.”

He shrugged, using humor as his shield. “With a donor as rich and ornery as me, the kid should get something out of it.”

“You’re not ornery.” She spoke quietly, her voice as whispery as the breeze that had just kicked up.

“Maybe not, but I’ve got plenty of dough. And I want to make your son’s or daughter’s life easier.”

“Thank you.” She fussed with her hair, pressing some of the pins protruding from her messy bun back into place. “That’s really nice of you.”

He imagined her sprawled out on his bed and tangled up in his sheets, her long dark locks tumbling over a pillow. By now, the tiny trail of sweat between her breasts was making her cleavage glow. He looked away; he had to get control of himself. He knew he had to wait but she was making him hot and breathless.

“I’m going to Brandon’s office this afternoon to get his legal input.” He’d already briefed his brother over the phone, but they were going to finish their discussion in person. “Do you want to go with me?”

“I can’t. I’m meeting with Barbara today.”

Right, he thought—to sort out the details of her new job. “Okay, then. We’ll talk later, and I’ll let you know what Brandon says.” He had a pretty good idea of how her meeting was going to go. He’d already instructed Barbara to create a position for Sophie, giving her whatever she wanted. And Barbara, naturally, was delighted to do it.

She glanced toward her house. “I better go. I have to shower.”

He merely nodded, and as she bade him goodbye, he envisioned her slick and sudsy and wet. He had to keep these fantasies about her in check until it was time. But on and off he’d been having them for years. In some form or another, Sophie was always on his mind.

Brandon’s office was in the hub of Nashville, with a colorful view of the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum.

The location served as a reminder of who they were, Tommy thought, and how this city impacted them. Their daddy was featured in one of the museum’s galleries. Tommy was, too, with artifacts from his most successful tours. As for Brandon, he was an entertainment lawyer, representing the Talbots and other country heavy hitters. He was also an elected trustee at the museum. But Brandon had always been the high-class type, well-known and well-respected in Nashville society.

Tommy and Brandon had grown up in the same rich, privileged, crazy-ass house, but they were nothing alike. Still, they were as close as two completely opposite siblings could be. And lately, they’d banded together, helping their dad with his now three-year sobriety. They also supported their mom, a former supermodel, in her beauty-business endeavors, making investments and buying stock in her company. Mom had rebranded herself, and was starring in her own infomercials, selling cosmetics and skin-care products.

When Tommy first explained the donor situation over the phone, Brandon had reacted in a perfectly professional way. No personal opinions, no judgments. Even now, he was as cool as a corporate cucumber. He looked the part, too, in an impeccable gray suit, his short black hair slicked straight back, his chiseled jaw clean-shaven. He’d inherited regal qualities from their mother’s side. Tommy didn’t have any of that.

“I’d be glad to represent both you and Sophie,” Brandon was saying. “I can draw up what’s called a known-donor contract, clarifying the details you agreed upon. But first I’m going to consult with a colleague of mine who’s versed in this area of law. I want to be sure there aren’t any unforeseen events that we should include in the contract, things you and Sophie might’ve not considered.”

“Whatever you need to do.” He trusted his brother to get it done right. They were two years apart, with Brandon being older and obviously wiser. Besides, Tommy didn’t like to fuss with the business end of things.

The wiser one squinted. “I hate to bring this up, but has Sophie thought about who she would name as the child’s guardian in case she becomes incapacitated or dies? Family members are usually preferred, but Sophie doesn’t have any family. And since you’ll be signing away your rights, you wouldn’t have any legal claim on the minor. Not unless you petitioned the courts, and with you not wanting to have a direct role as the father, I don’t see you as doing that.”

Tommy’s gut tensed. The kid hadn’t even been conceived yet, and now they were discussing the possibility of the child becoming an orphan. When he thought about how Sophie’s mom had died, the tension inside him worsened. “I have no idea who she would name as guardian, but I’ll bring it to her attention. Then she can consult with you about it.”

Brandon looked him square in the eye. “Maybe she can appoint someone in our family. Mom would probably be willing to do it.”

“Yeah, she probably would.” Their mother was hoping for grandkids someday, and the likelihood was pretty damn close to nil if she had to rely on her sons. Brandon wasn’t any more settled than Tommy in that regard. “Mom and Dad probably aren’t going to like this donor decision of mine.” He’d decided to wait to tell them until he and Sophie worked out the legal details, and now there was the guardian issue she would need to consider, too.

“No, I don’t suspect they’ll like the idea of you being a donor. Knowing Mom, she’ll accept it easier than Dad will. She tends to be more pliable than he is. But it’s your life, not theirs.”

“Yeah, and considering the lives they’ve led, they don’t have a whole lot of room to talk.” Their parents used to have an agreement where their dad had been allowed to sleep with other women. Their mother’s only stipulation was that he wouldn’t father children with anyone except her, and he’d broken that vow when he’d sired Matt. “Do you think Mom was really okay with Dad screwing around like he did? Or do you think she just accepted it as part of what came with the territory?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never asked her about it. But she’ll be telling her side of the story in the biography, so it’s all going to become public, anyway. From my understanding, Matt’s mom has already been interviewed. Her story will be included, as well.”

“Well, I think our mom is a darned fine person for forgiving Dad and choosing to be friends with him again. It’s also nice of her to want to meet Matt and embrace him.”

Brandon nodded. “It’s going to be a heck of a get-together, all of us meeting up like that.”

Tommy scrubbed his hand over his face. “Remember when Mom first told us that Dad had another son out there, and how we wondered about him?” They’d been teenagers at the time. Tommy had just turned sixteen and Brandon had been a diligent eighteen-year-old, the senior class president of the private academy he’d attended. Tommy had chosen to go to public school, where Sophie and the rest of his friends were. “I never hated Matt for existing, but I hated Dad for hurting Mom.”

“I know how deeply it affected you. But everything about Dad has always been harder on you. You look more like him than I do. You’re a performer like he is. You’ve had to fight your way out from under his shadow, even when we were young.”

“It helps that I have a brother who understands.” Tommy smiled. “And they say lawyers are heartless sharks.”

Brandon flashed a lethal grin. “I have my moments.”

No doubt he did. But all Tommy saw was the good in him. “You always supported me, even when I got into trouble.”

His brother shrugged. “With the way you and Dad used to fight, I knew you needed someone on your side.”

“Those fights aren’t over yet. We had a raging argument not too long ago about Kara. He read me the riot act, even after I told him the baby wasn’t mine.”

“Did you call him on the carpet about Matt? About having a grown son he barely knows?”

Tommy blew out a sigh. “You bet I did. But he just babbled on about how much he’s changed and how focused he is on being a dad now. For someone who’s trying to atone for his mistakes and be a better parent, he doesn’t have a clue how to go about it.”

Brandon lifted a glass paperweight off his desk, looked at it and set it back down. “He’s been sending me gifts. For all the birthdays and Christmases he missed back in the day.” He glanced up. “Have you been getting presents from him, too?”

Tommy nodded. Along with a slew of other things, he’d received the same paperweight, containing a sentimental quote inside. “I know his heart is in the right place, but there’s only so much of his interference I can stand. Even when I try not to argue with him, I still lose my temper.”

“Do you want me to approach him about you and Sophie so this doesn’t turn into a battle?”

As tempting as the offer was, Tommy declined. “I appreciate it, but you don’t have to do my dirty work for me.”

“Are you sure? I’m good at smoothing things over.”

“Thanks, but I’ll handle it.” Tommy knew that he was doing the right thing by being Sophie’s donor, and no one, not even his dad, was going to take that away from him.

Sophie cringed. Tommy and his father were snapping at each other, deep in the throes of a heated argument. Now she wished that she wouldn’t have accompanied him to Kirby’s house. Mostly she’d only gone with him so she could talk to his mother, Melinda, about being named as the guardian for her child.

But she hadn’t gotten a chance to do that, not with the power struggle taking place between the men. Kirby didn’t like their plan at all. He’d blown up the moment Tommy had told him.

Melinda seemed okay with the idea, or was at least being supportive, the way a parent should be. She’d tried to ease the tension earlier, but her efforts had been in vain. The whole thing was getting out of control, and Sophie didn’t know what to do, either.

The four of them were in the main parlor of the plantation-style mansion, surrounded by the trappings of wealth and opulence. The entire compound had been dubbed Kirbyville by the press. Even the family had begun to call it that. And what a strange bunch they were, Sophie thought. There was nothing conventional about the Talbots, not with a patriarch like Kirby at the helm.

His maid had already brought in a pitcher of iced tea and served everyone, creating a formal atmosphere that had gone awry. Kirby looked like his usual legendary self, with his graying beard and signature black clothes. He paced back and forth, rugged and demanding. Melinda was dressed in white, making an angelic contrast to her ex-husband. At fifty-eight, she was as beautiful as ever, with her golden blond hair and tall, slim figure. She sat across from Sophie on a matching antique settee, heaving ragged sighs.

And Tommy...

He stood near a window, bathed in natural light, his hair mussed from running his hands through it.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re doing,” his dad was saying to him. “It’s not right.”

“Oh, really?” Tommy countered. “This from the guy who had a secret kid with one of his mistresses?” He glanced at his mom for a second, as if to apologize for being so blunt in front of her. Then he glared at his dad again.

Kirby grabbed his tea and took a swig, as if he was gulping down the bourbon he used to drink. “I never planned on having a baby with Matt’s mother.”

“And that makes it okay? You lied to all of us, and later you abandoned him, as if he didn’t matter. You’re the last person who should be giving advice.”

“Quite the contrary. I’m exactly the guy who needs to do it. I’m telling you, boy, if you’re not going to be the child’s father, then you need to remove yourself from the equation.”

“Dammit, old man, I’m not a boy.” Tommy set his jaw. “So don’t treat me like one.”

Sophie gazed at Melinda, and they exchanged uncomfortable glances. Nothing was getting solved.

Kirby polished off his tea, put the glass down with a thud and narrowed his gaze at his son. “After the last talk we had, I was hoping you’d start becoming more responsible.”

“Responsible?” Tommy scoffed. “This isn’t a case of me accidentally making Sophie pregnant, like you did with Matt’s mom. We’re entering into a legal agreement, with Sophie choosing to be a single mother. The baby will grow up knowing me as the donor and a close family friend, and if there’s anything Sophie or her son or daughter needs, I’ll provide it. I’m already planning on setting up a trust fund for the kid.”

“And you think that’s going to help?” his dad replied in a harsh tone. “I established a trust for Matt that didn’t make a hill of beans. After he used it to get his ranch going, he paid back every dime, making damned sure I knew that he no longer needed or wanted my money. It’s taken years for him to forgive me. So why would you purposely give up the rights to your son or daughter, possibly creating problems like that, too?”

“I’m giving Sophie the baby she wants,” Tommy said, seething. “Why is that so hard for you to understand?”

“Because you’re too close to the situation, and you’re not thinking clearly.”

Tommy stormed over to his dad, his dusty Western boots echoing on the pristine wood floor. He stopped just inches from his father and growled, “You don’t know shit about what I’m thinking.”

Kirby forged on, his voice getting louder. “I know that you’re an adrenaline junkie who’s always looking for a fix. And once you come down off this latest high, you’re going to be left with a kid who isn’t yours.”

“It isn’t supposed to be mine!” Tommy yelled. “That’s the whole frigging point of me being the donor!”

Sophie wanted to tell both of them to shut up. She never used to argue with her dad, not even when she was a teenager. They’d always spoken kindly to each other. She would give anything to have him back. But it was different with Tommy and Kirby; they could fight about the weather. Granted, she understood that Kirby’s views were distorted because of the mistakes he’d made with Matt, but his criticism wasn’t helping. He needed to know when to quit. But Tommy needed to know when to cool off, too.





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