Billionaire Bachelors: Ryan. Anne Marie Winston

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      She thought some more. What about Charles Bakler? He was a dear. But…not the brightest crayon in the box. And she wanted her baby to be intelligent. She put a frowning face beside Charles’s name.

      Okay. Surely she could come up with more desirable single men that that! What about Ryan? No. She dismissed the idea almost as quickly as it popped into her head. She could never ask Ryan. Not an option. But still…to be fair, she should list him. So she did. She didn’t write anything at all beside his name.

      Geoff Vertler. A possibility, except he was a pretty hearty partier, and she wouldn’t want to inadvertently give her baby a predisposition to alcoholism.

      Laying down the pencil, Jessie exhaled a frustrated sigh. This was stupid! She didn’t even know as much about these men as she did about the candidates she’d chosen from the sperm bank. If what they’d written was true.

      You know almost everything about Ryan, said that sneaky little voice in her head. Oh, Lord. She took a big slug of her wine. He really would be the logical choice. The one man she’d known nearly her entire life. He was smart, he was kind, he didn’t have any horrible health secrets hidden in his family history. He was well coordinated, she knew, since he’d played soccer in high school and college, and he could even sing. Physically, he was…perfect. If she had a son who looked exactly like Ryan, she’d be thrilled.

      But how could she ask him? Shaking her head, she pushed away from the table and rose. No way. She just couldn’t.

      But as she rinsed her dishes and put them in the dishwasher, a thought struck her. She was having dinner with him tomorrow night. And he’d said he had some other ideas to share with her. What if he was planning to offer to be the donor for her baby? She put a hand to her mouth—that had to be it! Why else would he want to have dinner? They normally had their monthly luncheon and went their separate ways.

      Jessie danced down the hallway to her bedroom. It was perfect! She’d never have been able to approach him about it, but if he offered…just perfect. And she didn’t have to worry about offending his wife since he didn’t have one.

      The thought doused her good humor, and she slowly tugged off her clothes and donned the oversize T-shirt in which she slept. It was purely an accident that Ryan didn’t have a wife anymore. An awful, unexpected accident.

      Climbing into bed, she set her alarm and snapped off the bedside lamp. But sleep eluded her.

      She’d been at the University of Alabama getting her degree when Ryan had met Wendy, and she hadn’t come home for the wedding. And by the time she’d come back to Boston, they had married, and Ryan already had begun to make history and money with the invention that had founded his fortune.

      Wendy. She could still remember the ridiculous stab of jealousy she’d felt the first time Ryan had introduced them. Wendy had been petite and curvy, with big, arresting blue eyes and pretty cornsilk hair. She’d clung shyly to Ryan’s hand, and Jessie had been jolted by the fierce feeling of possessiveness that had shot through her. Ryan had been her friend; for years and years the first person to whom she ran when things went wrong was the boy next door. Two years older, quiet and intelligent, he’d helped her survive what she now realized was an emotionally abusive childhood. They’d had a special bond. And though it had dimmed when she’d begun going steady with the captain of the high school football team and nearly died when she’d followed Chip south to Alabama, Ryan still had been hers in some indefinable way.

      Jessie had chided herself for being childish and resolved to be pleasant to Wendy Shaughnessy, and to her surprise it hadn’t been a chore. If there was a sweeter person alive, someone would have to prove it to Jessie. Wendy had become a dear friend. In fact, it was she who had suggested the monthly luncheon tradition.

      Who would have thought they’d be carrying on without her after only six short years?

      And who, she asked herself wryly just before she finally fell asleep, ever would have imagined that Ryan would father Jessie’s child? But she was sure that’s what he was going to suggest. She could hardly wait for tomorrow evening!

      Two

      He took her to L’Espalier, a converted town house that had become one of Back Bay’s premiere restaurants. It was only a few blocks from her home, but Jessie had never been there before. Partly because it was quite pricey, but also because L’Espalier was one of those places people went to celebrate life’s milestones.

      Over a truly superb vegetarian meal, though, Ryan showed no signs of getting around to the reason he’d asked her there. Much as they had yesterday, he kept the conversation impersonal, telling her about various causes for which he’d recently been solicited, asking her opinion on which ones would be the best to support. Maybe he’d changed his mind. Her heart sank. Could she force herself to ask him?

      When she declined dessert, he asked for the check, and before she knew it, they were back on Marlborough Street, heading for her apartment. They both were silent as they walked along the sidewalk. Each of them had their gloved hands in their pockets, and walked carefully through the darkened streets; there were icy patches in unexpected places left over from a storm the week before.

      Twice she opened her mouth and closed it without speaking. How to bring up the topic? Maybe he felt as embarrassed as she did. Maybe she should just go ahead and ask him. But she couldn’t. Her vocal cords simply froze at the thought of asking Ryan to donate sperm. At the same time she was all too aware of his tall, broad-shouldered figure. She’d never looked at him as anything but a dear friend in the most platonic sense, but the whole notion of creating a child raised the specter of sexual intimacy, and try as she might, she couldn’t rid herself of a new fascination with him. She would not, she reminded herself for at least the fiftieth time, engage in prurient thoughts about this man who’d been such a dear friend.

      Right.

      He had grown into an extraordinarily attractive man. His dark hair was thick and glossy and his eyes were a striking blue, made even more vivid when he had a tan through the summer months. As a child and a teenager he’d been tall but scrawny and awkward. Once he’d begun weight training, his arms had become muscular and strong. Apparently, he’d kept up some sort of fitness routine, because his shoulders now were almost bulky, and his upper arms filled out the sleeves of his suit jackets.

      Stop it! Jessie told herself. Again. Ryan was her friend, not a potential lover. She ignored the quickening of her pulse.

      In a few more moments they were back at her apartment building. In the hallway outside her door, she turned to him. But before she could speak, he said, “May I come in? I asked you out tonight for a purpose and I’ve been trying to get around to it all evening.” He smiled wryly. “Trying to work up my courage.”

      Relief washed through her. “Of course. I’ve been wondering about it. How about if I make us some coffee?”

      “Sounds good.” He followed her as she unlocked her door and stepped into the small foyer.

      Jessie took his coat and waved him into the living room while she hung up their outerwear and went into the kitchen to start some coffee. She put a paper doily on a small plate, then got some grapes from the bowl on her counter and arranged them on the tray with a handful of peanut butter cookies she’d gotten from the deli down the street on her way home earlier. Pulling out a tray, she set the plate on it along with creamer, sugar and spoons. She was pretty sure he drank his coffee black.

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