Billionaire Bachelors: Ryan

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.

In another moment her little coffeemaker had finished, and she poured two cups. Walking into the living room, she set the tray on the table before the sofa and took a seat. Ryan had been standing at the window, looking out into the dark night. But when he heard her, he turned and came over to stand near her. “Sit down,” she invited, patting the cushion beside her.

“Thanks.” He did so, then picked up his cup and took a drink, grimacing at the heat. She noted with satisfaction that she’d been right—he drank it black. “Your apartment’s nice,” he said. “I’ve never seen where you live before.”

“I don’t do the hostess thing,” she said. “It’s too small for parties. But given the price of real estate in Back Bay right now, I’m lucky to have it at all.”

There was a small, awkward silence between them.

Finally, Ryan stirred and turned toward her. “Jessie, we’ve been friends for a long time. I know you want children.” He took a deep breath. “And so do I. Will you marry me?”

What? She couldn’t have heard him right. But she knew she had, and her voice showed her agitation when she spoke. “No! Ryan, that’s not what I want—I mean, you don’t really want to marry me, either. When you called, I thought…I thought…”

“You thought what?” His voice was flat and distant as he stared into his coffee cup.

She felt a blush creeping up her neck into her cheeks. “Well, I thought you were going to offer to be a…a donor.”

“You what?” His mouth dropped open much as hers had a moment before, and his gaze shot to hers.

“I thought about what you said all day.” She rushed on, wanting only to get this over with. “You’re right about anonymous men being risky. So I decided it would be better to ask someone I know to be a donor. But most of my friends are married, and I didn’t really feel comfortable…so I made a list of bachelors—”

“And my name was at the top of your list?” His voice sounded incredulous and his distaste was clear.

“Well, yes.” She looked away from the cool blue eyes. “I’ve known you practically forever and I know your family.” She shrugged. “It seemed like a logical idea.” She could see from the dark frown that drew his brows into a single thick line that he was about to refuse so she kept on. “Please, Ry? I’m serious about this baby. It would really, really mean a lot to me.”

But he shook his head. “I don’t think so, Jess.”

“But why?” She was pleading and she knew it.

“I wouldn’t be—I’m not comfortable with the idea that a child of mine would be raised never knowing me, never knowing I’m its father.” He shook his head again, decisively, and her heart sank. “It would bother me not to be involved in my child’s life.”

“This is exactly the reaction I was afraid most of my married friends would have.” She made an effort to soften her tone. “But I didn’t expect it from you.”

“I didn’t expect it from me, either, but then I never expected you to ask me to do something like this.” He looked down into his coffee cup again, hesitated, then shook his head. “I couldn’t do it, Jess. It wouldn’t be my child, legally, but I’d feel connected, responsible. I’d want to hold it, to play with it, to watch it grow up and be involved in its life. I can’t imagine knowing I had a child somewhere in the world and not being a father to it.” He spread his hands. “I want kids of my own. I want to give a child memories as wonderful as the ones I have of my own parents.”

She was stunned by the passion in his voice. Her throat felt thick as she remembered the two people who had raised Ryan and his brother, the two people who had opened their arms and their hearts and included her in their charmed circle anytime she entered their home.

She cleared her throat. “I never even knew you wanted children.” She spread her hands. “You were married to Wendy for six years—”

“Wendy couldn’t conceive.” His voice was harsh now and abrupt. He stood so suddenly he knocked against the table, and the coffee sloshed in the cups. Stalking over to the window, he shoved his jacket back and put his hands on his hips. “We wanted them. Badly. But we tried for three years with no luck and then spent another one finding out what the problem was. We tried in-vitro fertilization twice but no luck. And then she died.”

She eyed the rigid line of his shoulders, and her heart squeezed painfully. She’d been thinking selfishly and was sick at heart that she’d inadvertently caused him sadness. Softly she said, “I’m sorry to bring up something painful to you. If I’d known, I never would have—”

“It’s not exactly something you want to share with the world.” His voice was curt.

Hurt pierced her heart. She wasn’t “the world.” She’d thought she was his oldest friend. But apparently, in his mind, that old bond didn’t mean the same thing it still meant to her. She felt the hot sting of tears at the backs of her eyes and she strove to breathe deeply, to stay calm.

At the window Ryan turned, and she quickly dropped her head. As she did so, one fat tear plopped down onto her hands, tightly clenched in her lap. Smoothing it away with her thumb, she kept her head bent as he resumed his seat beside her.

“Jess?” His voice was quiet. “I don’t want to argue with you. You mean too much to me.”

“You mean a lot to me, too,” she said. And then her voice broke and she turned at the same instant he did, moving into the arms he held wide.

Jessie had danced with Ryan before, hugged him occasionally, brushed quick friendly kisses on his cheek. But she’d never known she’d find such comfort in his embrace. Even when his parents had died, they hadn’t shared a closeness like this. He’d had Wendy to comfort him then. Now his arms were hard and muscled beneath the fabric of his jacket, his shoulder a wide plane just right for her head. When she felt him press a kiss into her hair, she smiled. “I have a great idea,” she said.

“What’s that?” His voice rumbled up from beneath her ear.

“Let’s forget this whole stupid conversation. Just pretend it never existed.”

He was quiet for a moment. “If that’s what you want.”