A Baby...Maybe? & How to Hunt a Husband by Bonnie Tucker Read Free Book Online

all this worrying was silly. Why worry about that now? First things first. She’d go in, she’d ask questions, she’d get the information. After she had the information, she’d leave the sperm bank with her head held high—because there was nothing embarrassing or degrading about using a sperm bank—go back to her hotel room and mull over the pros and cons. She’d even sleep on it for a night or two and then tell them yes.
    Cara checked to make sure her plate was still balancing on the railing, and it looked fine. She bent down to get a piece of paper and a pen out of her purse to write down the Noble Sperm Bank’s phone number and address. That’s when she heard a very deep masculine voice utter a very naughty word.
    She straightened up to give that deep voice a talking-to, the way she would to her students. There were certain words a person didn’t say in mixed company. When she did, she came face-to-face with a pair of sky-blue eyes and a head and shoulders covered inchicken wings. She glanced down at the railing. “You knocked down my wings,” she said.
    â€œI don’t think so, lady.”
    â€œThey were right here. And now they’re on you. Where did you come from?”
    â€œRight there.” He pointed to the grass on the other side of the patio. “Minding my own business. I was bombed.”
    â€œYes, you were,” she said. She didn’t know what else she could say except, “But I didn’t do it. At least, not on purpose.”
    He cast her a doubtful glance.
    â€œI didn’t.” She had to catch her breath. When he stood in a full and upright position he was tall. She figured that out because the patio was a little bit above ground level and he towered over her. Then she notice a cell phone in his hand and the cell phone seemed kind of flattened.
    â€œ I didn’t touch your telephone,” she stated, pointing to the crunched accessory, being held together by only a few wires.
    â€œI know that. I was down here looking for the phone when I got pelted.” He reached down to the ground and brought up her plate. He held it out to her. “I believe this is yours.”
    She scrunched up her eyes, and her lips had contoured themselves into a pained expression. She held out her hand. “I believe it is.”
    He handed her the greasy plate stained with barbecue hot sauce and ranch dressing. She picked off several blades of grass and dropped them on the ground.
    â€œI believe these are mine, too.” She plucked one wing out of his hair, then another and another. He did nothing to help her. Just stood there, his lips set in a sardonic leer. She had to pause a moment before she went for the shoulders. Touching him with her fingersmade the muscles in her belly jump around, do a dance, make her kind of queasy. Which was strange since her hands and her belly were pretty far apart. The nausea had to be from lack of food. That was probably it. Although it didn’t account for her shallow breathing and inability to fill up her lungs.
    She took a wing off his shoulder. His muscle tightened beneath her touch. He rotated them, which sent several chicken wings plunging downward.
    There was one on top of his belt buckle. She reached for it, but he brushed her hand away, taking care of that area himself.
    â€œI’m so sorry,” Cara said softly. “I’ll be happy to…”
    â€œI can do this one myself.” He may have said that, but he made it sound like a challenge.
    â€œI was going to say I’d be happy to pay.”
    â€œOf course you were. That’s what I was thinking you were going to say.”
    â€œWell, I was.”
    â€œThe food was yours, not mine.”
    â€œI meant for the cleaning bill.”
    â€œDon’t be silly.” His voice, deep and kind of gravelly, made her want to lean forward, closer, made her wish he’d talk in longer sentences. She didn’t detect