She had the look of someone who was thinking of edging toward the door.

“Family?” she repeated. “Uh…no, not really. I’m pretty much alone.”

Leaning against his desk, he dabbed at the blood on his lip again. “Everybody needs some sort of family,” he advised her. “I just spent the last few days at a friend’s family reunion in San Antonio. Watching all those people enjoy each other and care about each other and depend on each other really brought it home to me. We all need other people in our lives.”

And I need a son.

He didn’t say it aloud, but somehow he almost felt she heard his thoughts. Watching her eyes change, he knew she was thinking of the same thing he was-of that rainy fall day about six months before when he’d nipped into his cousin’s medical clinic and found Callie Stevens sitting in the waiting room.

Babies-that was his cousin’s business. Ted ran an infertility clinic that specialized in in vitro fertilization. Tortured by his longing for a child to love, Grant had stopped in to see if he could get some information from his cousin about surrogate mothering-without actually planning to come clean on why he was asking about it.

And there was Callie, flipping nervously through a food magazine. He’d nodded in recognition. She’d turned beet-red and nodded back, then pretended fascination in tofu recipes. And he’d left without the information he’d come for, but with a new curiosity in just what a woman like Callie had been doing in his cousin’s waiting room.

As a widow, could it be that she, like him, longed for a baby but didn’t want the complications of another relationship? The thought was tantalizing and he’d spun a whole scenario around it, getting more and more enthusiastic. His cousin’s office wasn’t the first place he’d gone to find out about surrogates. He’d gone as far as to interview candidates at two other clinics. And he hadn’t been impressed. But if he could interest a woman like Callie Stevens…

He knew instinctively she would never have a baby for mere money. So what could he do to provide an incentive? He’d mulled it over for days and thought he’d come up with a plan that would be mutually advantageous. She obviously wanted a baby. He could provide the support for her if she had a child for him-and then stayed on to basically be the child’s nanny. That way they both could get what they wanted.

It sounded good to him.

The next day he called her into his office and ran it past her. She’d acted like he was setting up a baby smuggling ring and wanted her to provide the baby. She couldn’t get out of his office fast enough. He was actually afraid she might quit her job or file some kind of harassment suit.

She hadn’t done that, but she had acted very wary around him for a while. He hadn’t brought it up again. But the possibilities were provocative, and he’d done his share of wondering-what if?

CHAPTER TWO

“YOU’RE bleeding again,” Callie said, jerking Grant’s attention back to the present situation. “We really need to do something about it. You need a doctor.”

“Oh, no,” he said, dabbing at the wound. “I can do this myself.”

“No, you can’t.” She shook her head in exasperation. “I know you’re a control freak, but you can’t control everything yourself. There’s a time to admit when you need help.”

His blue eyes rose and held her gaze. There was nothing warm there, no teasing, no humor.

“What makes you think you know me, Ms. Callie Stevens?”

“I don’t really know you, Mr. Grant Carver, but I know your type.” She was on a roll. Things seemed to work much better when she took the initiative. He was scary in his way, but he could be tamed. At least, she hoped so.

“My type? Please, enlighten me. What is my type?”

She tried to glare at him but it didn’t come off. He looked strangely vulnerable in the T-shirt with his mouth still bleeding. Like a fighter after a fight. All his hard edges were blurring a bit.

“Go on,” he pressed. “I want to know what you think ‘my type’ is.”

“Okay.” She raised her chin. “Type A for arrogant. Type C for controlling. Type T for tyrant. Should I go on?”

“I get the picture. You don’t like me very much, do you?”

She blinked at him and words stuck in her throat. Like him? What did that have to do with it? She didn’t really know him, just as he’d said. What right did she have to be name-calling? Suddenly she regretted that she’d let herself tumble down this blind alley.

His handkerchief was soaked with blood and he was fishing in his desk for another one. The cut seemed to be getting worse the more he fooled with it.

She frowned. “I think you should sit down while we figure out what to do about your face,” she said.

He looked up at her with a spark of humor in his eyes. “You don’t like my face, either?” he said, managing to make it sound pathetic in a way guaranteed to touch her heartstrings.

She bit her lip to keep from smiling at him.

“Sit down,” she said.

“I don’t need to sit down, I…”

Reaching out, she flattened her hand against his chest and gave him a shove into the large leather desk chair behind him. He let her do it and didn’t resist, sinking down into the leather and watching her curiously, as though he was interested in what she thought she was going to do with him next.

“Now pick up the phone and call a doctor,” she ordered.

He gave her a skeptical look. “Be serious.”

“I’m serious as a heart attack. You need help. I’m not leaving you here to bleed to death in the night. Pick up that phone.”

“At the rate my blood is flowing, it’ll take a week to bleed to death,” he scoffed. But he did glance at the soaked handkerchief. Still, he hesitated. “Listen, my sister’s a general practitioner. She can take care of it-if I decide that’s necessary.”

She motioned toward the telephone. “Call her.”

“What are you talking about? It’s after ten o’clock. I can’t call her.”

“Call her. She won’t mind.”

His dark eyebrows rose. “Do you know her?”

She gave him a tight smile. “I know sisters.”

He stared at her for a long moment, and then something changed in his face.

“All right.”

He picked up his cell and punched in a code, then put it to his ear. “Hi, Gena. It’s Grant. Sorry to call so late, hon. No, nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to say ‘hi’ and…”

It must have been because he didn’t see the move coming that she was able to get the phone away from him so easily. It obviously hadn’t occurred to him that anyone would do such a thing. But she could tell his conversation with his sister was going nowhere, so she turned, zeroed in on her target and snatched the receiver right out of his unsuspecting hand, then quickly moved out of his reach while she pressed it to her ear.

“Hi, Gena. This is Callie Stevens.”

“What the…?” he growled.

She waved away his rude expletive.

“You don’t know me. I work…er, I used to work for your brother. I just wanted to let you know that he’s just had an accident…”

Grant swore again, but she ignored it.

“No, no, he’s fine. But he is…damaged, so to speak.” She made a face at him. “He’s got a cut lip and it looks like it needs stitches to me. It keeps bleeding, and…Oh, great. Yes, we’re at the office. Thanks.”

She handed him back his telephone and gave him a superior smile. “She’s coming right over.”

“What?”

“She said she’s only minutes away.”

“Wait one dang-burned second here,” he said, his blue eyes frosty. “I’m getting confused. Who got fired today, you or me?”

The superior smile was working, so she kept it up. “You’ll be taken care of. So I figure we’re even now. And I’m leaving.”

His expression hardened. “Not yet. The key, please.” He held out his hand.

She bit her lip and tried to look innocent. “What key?”

“The one you must have used to get into the building tonight.”

Oh, that key.

It was one she’d had for opening the office early a few months before and she’d found it with her things when she’d gone through the boxes of stuff from her desk. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled it out and handed it to him.

“Wait a minute,” he said. “I need to talk to you.”

She turned toward the door. “Write me a letter.”

He rose and followed her. “I’m quite serious. I’ve got something I need to discuss with you. I’ve got some ideas on ways we could use you here at ACW. How would you like your job back?”

There was a certain sense of satisfaction in hearing his words. This was almost an apology, wasn’t it? At any rate, it was an admission that she shouldn’t have been fired.

Yeah. That and a quarter will get you a ride on a pony. Big deal.

She turned back and studied his eyes. “You could do that?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t have let my uncle fire you in the first place if I’d known his plans. I’ve been out of the office all week, as you know, and I only found out that he’d scuttled the entire research department when I got back this afternoon.”

She hesitated, considering. “What makes you think I would want to come back to a place that’s treated me so shabbily?”

He looked pained. “Please, no more self-righteous speeches. I thought you desperately needed this job. What happened to all your tales of woe?”

She started to speak, then thought better of it and shook her head. But she turned back, because she’d forgotten her orchid again. It would be completely ridiculous to leave it behind after all the trouble she’d taken to get it.

“You weren’t really lobbying to get your job back, were you?” he said, eyes narrowing. “You were just trying to make me feel bad. Is that it?”

She looked up at him and didn’t answer. What could she say? He was only partly right.

For some reason, this seemed to anger him. His hand gripped her arm, fingers curling around it.

“Just between you and me, Ms. Stevens,” he said coolly, staring down into her eyes in a way that made her heart pound, “I don’t feel bad. I never do.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She prepared to yank her arm away from his grip, but he released her before she had the chance.

“Just be here first thing in the morning,” he said. He glanced at the open calendar on his desk. “Oh, wait. Damn. I’ve got a couple of important meetings in the morning. It’ll have to be after lunch.” He looked up at her. “How about two o’clock? Right here in my office.”

She couldn’t muster any more of the superior smile shtick. Her lips were beginning to ache. So she made do with a superior shrug. “I’ll think about it.”

He saw right through her facade. “I’m sure you will,” he said, his voice tinged with just a touch of sarcasm. “And while you’re at it, think about this.” He gathered her pot shards and the still-perky orchid plant and stuffed them into a drawer in his desk. “You don’t get your orchid unless you show up.”

She sprang toward him, as though to rescue her plant, but he was ready for her this time and she stopped herself at the last second to avoid another close contact with his large, hard body.

“You can’t do that,” she cried in outrage. “That’s my property!”

It was his turn to try the superior smile.

“And you are here after breaking into my property. So I guess we’re even again.”

She felt like pouting. Jaw rigid, she held out her hand. “May I have my orchid, please?” she said.

“You know, I don’t think I’m going to let you take it.”

She glared at him. “That’s despicable.”

A half smile was curving his full lips. “I think I’m going to hang on to it to make sure you come back tomorrow.”

“That’s…that’s like blackmail.”

He considered her charge. “No, more like bribery.”

“Whatever. It’s illegal.”

He smiled. “So sue me.”

“I just might do that,” she said, though they both knew there wasn’t a chance in the world of that happening. “And you know what? If I’d had the chance, I’m sure I would have fired you.”

And with that nonsensical statement of defiance, she turned and stormed off, taking the stairs again because she needed to work out her anger on something physical in order to keep from killing the man.

It was long past midnight. Grant still sat behind his desk, staring moodily at the dark window. His sister, Gena, had come and gone, working her medical magic, and now half of his face felt numb. But that wasn’t what had him brooding. His encounter with Callie was nagging at him like a burr under a saddle. He’d mulled it over and he’d come to a decision.

Callie Stevens was the perfect woman to have his baby.

He remembered when he’d brought it up to her before. Her reaction had been extreme in his opinion. She was so calm and logical about most things. Why wasn’t she logical about this? The entire plan the way he’d presented it to her would be to her benefit-that was just so obvious. And yet he knew if he came at her from that perspective again, she would react just as irrationally as she had before.