Formula: Father. Jolie Kramer
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Название: Formula: Father

Автор: Jolie Kramer

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Современные любовные романы

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СКАЧАТЬ hallway, she moved very close and her scent hit him, soft, evocative, slightly sweet. He found himself reacting to the incredibly feminine fragrance. Or maybe it was just the nearness of her that made his pulse race.

      They finally got to his office, and he held the door open for her. As she passed him, he took a deep breath. He wanted to remember the scent. It seemed important.

      Darcy didn’t sit down right away. She went to his degrees on the wall. Bachelor of Science. Medical Degree. Phi Beta Kappa key. The most important parts of his life were on that wall, including a picture of his family. There was one notable exception: the woman turning to look at him.

      “You did it, Maitland.”

      He smiled at the familiar address. “Yeah, I did, Taylor.”

      She smiled, too, and he felt his chest tighten. “I’ve thought about you.”

      “Oh?”

      “I wondered if there was someone at college. You know….” She shook her head slowly. “Someone who challenged you like I did?”

      “Challenged? Are you kidding?”

      “Have we forgotten so soon?” She took a step toward him, her grin growing more devilish by the second. “Who was it that got the top score on the biology final?”

      “Yeah, but who was it that aced the chem final?”

      “I still think you cheated.”

      “Ha.”

      She met his gaze, and her smile faded. “Ha,” she whispered, but he had the feeling the gibe wasn’t meant for him.

      “You’ve done pretty well for yourself,” he said, wanting to bring back the fire in her eyes.

      “Yeah, yeah.” Her fingers played over his medical books, and he felt a little surprised that her nails were polished. Which was idiotic. The woman was a fashion model, one of the most famous in the world. Of course she’d have her fingernails polished. She wasn’t the kid who espoused the idea that makeup was a plot to keep women subservient and that high heels were a medieval torture device. He wondered if she’d ever really been that kid.

      “So what brings you home, Darcy?” He cleared his throat, surprised at how gruff he’d sounded.

      She didn’t answer him right away. She looked around the room once more, then at him. “It is home, isn’t it?”

      “I heard you live in New York now.”

      “Not anymore. I sold my apartment.”

      “Oh?”

      “I bought a house. A great big beautiful house.”

      “In Manhattan?”

      Her smile came back, and it was easy to see why she’d made it to the top of her rarefied world. Her eyes lit up, and the face that had launched a thousand magazines looked luminous and so beautiful it seemed impossible. He rarely noticed the details of a woman’s appearance, but with her, he couldn’t help it. Her skin looked softer and smoother than any child’s. Her eyes, doe-shaped and mysterious, chocolate brown with thick, dark lashes, made him think of Audrey Hepburn. But it was her mouth that had captured the attention of the entire male population. Her lips, which she’d hated as a girl, were her trademark. Almost too generous, her smile suggested much more than a demure kiss. It was sexy and sweet, both at the same time. And then there was something more…something he couldn’t identify, even though he’d given it a great deal of thought.

      She’d been a beautiful girl, but she’d blossomed into an exquisite woman. A woman who could have any man she wanted. The rich, the famous, the infamous. All she had to do was crook her little finger, and they’d lie down before her. The tabloids had chronicled her love affairs in terrible detail. It was his private masochism that made him keep reading the damn things, even when each word hurt like hell.

      She tilted her head to the side, and her hair, as dark and luxurious as mink, fell over her shoulder. “What is that look for?”

      “What look?”

      “You know what I’m talking about. Come on, Maitland. It’s me. The science nerd from fifth grade. The one who helped you get back at Craig Thomas for stealing your homework. Remember?”

      “Of course, I remember.” He stepped behind his desk, needing the distance and the furniture between them. “But a lot has changed since fifth grade, huh?”

      “Maybe not too much? At least I hope not too much. I liked us back then.” Her statement and the look in her eyes were enigmatic, and before he could even venture a guess as to what she meant, she moved to the wall of diplomas. “I hear you’re the man when it comes to fertility.”

      He laughed as he sat down. “You make it sound like I’m the one doing the fertilizing.”

      She smiled, too, and for a moment, it was as if they were in high school again. But the feeling left him as quickly as it had come.

      “Why did you choose this?” She nodded toward his diplomas, then turned to him again. Her gaze held no humor, just intense curiosity.

      “I was going to be a surgeon at first, which was more out of rebellion than a love for surgery. But then I did a rotation in reproductive obstetrics, and everything changed. I figured I could make a difference here at the clinic. And there you have it.”

      “I have a feeling that was the Cliff Notes version.”

      “I didn’t want to bore you silly.”

      She sat across from him and leaned forward so her elbows were on the edge of his desk. “Maybe someday you’ll tell me the whole story.”

      He didn’t answer her. It didn’t seem likely that their paths would cross again. He still wasn’t sure why she’d come today.

      “Mitch?”

      “Yes?”

      “Tell me about this artificial insemination. I mean, what it takes.”

      His curiosity made him speechless for a moment. Was this for her? Was she—

      Her right brow rose slightly, and he set his curiosity aside. But as he explained the different methods of insemination, the ovulation kit, the fact that most pregnancies occur in the first four cycles of therapy and all the other basics, he couldn’t look at her. The only reason he got through the entire spiel was that he’d done it hundreds of times before.

      When he came to the end of the talk, he met her gaze, and once more he was reminded of sitting next to Darcy in algebra, when Mr. Green was explaining a new concept to the class.

      Mitch’s grasp of the subject always suffered because he’d end up watching Darcy. No one listened the way she did. She would lean forward, like now. Her eyes widened, and when she had her moment of comprehension—that great aha!—she blinked rapidly for several seconds. If she didn’t understand something, she nibbled on her lower lip.

      He’d dreamed about that.

      She sat back СКАЧАТЬ