He thought it’d be the thing that stopped her cold. But her big blue eyes took on an almost victorious gleam, and she practically purred, “That, Logan, is what makes you absolutely ideal as my donor.” She smiled, and he imagined that must be what she looked like at work when she was about to close in for a killer deal in the boardroom. It was both glorious and intimidating. “I don’t want you to be my baby’s father. I want you to be the sperm donor. There’s a world of difference in there. Can I explain further? Are you willing to listen?”
Too mixed up to say much, he nodded, figuring the least he could do was hear her out. Plus, hell yes, he was curious to know what was going on in that sharp mind of hers.
“I want to have a baby and raise it on my own. I don’t want a partner, and I don’t need a father figure.” A long, wayward curl bounced into her eyes, and she brushed it back impatiently. “You know I have the resources to ensure I can raise a child well. I have the money, I’ll make the time, and I have so much love to give . . . my child will want for nothing.”
“Except a father.” Logan couldn’t believe that’d burst from his mouth, but it had.
She didn’t even blink. “I have three amazing brothers,” she said. “My child will never lack for male role models or fatherlike affection. If anything, I can say with full confidence that my child’s three uncles will make sure he or she never feels unloved, or feels a lack of that kind of attention.”
Logan found himself nodding. “Well . . . I’ve never met Pierce, but from what I know of Charles and Dane, you’re probably right.”
“I know I’m right. We’re all very close. My child will have three doting uncles, three lovely aunts, and a ton of cousins. He or she will have a big, loving family.” That hurdle cleared, Tess barreled on. “I hate to say it, but the fact that you’ve told me in no uncertain terms that you don’t want kids is so ideal for me, it’s ridiculous. The fact that you don’t want to be a father is perfect, because I don’t want you to be its father.”
She paused for a moment to let that sink in. “In fact, I’ll be drawing up legal documents for my donor—you, hopefully, but if not, whoever I choose—stating that the donor agrees to relinquish any and all parental rights. All parental rights, all financial rights, everything. This child is going to be mine, and mine alone. I take full responsibility. I want it that way. I’m not asking you to be a father. I’m not asking anything of you . . . except for your badass DNA.”
Logan wanted to be affronted, offended, and outraged. But seeing it from her side, it all made a lot of sense. Did that make her controlling? Maybe. It also showed just how much thought she’d put into this. She was clear on her wants and decisions, wasn’t hiding that, was going to cover her ass legally . . . He had to give her credit for covering every angle.
“Does that make you feel any better about it?” she asked, her voice softer and eyes shining with . . . ah hell, hope. She was really hoping he’d say yes to this craziness. “You’d still have your freedom, your own life. I’m just . . . well, to be blunt, I’m just asking for your sperm. That may sound callous, I know that. But also completely open and honest.” Her tongue darted out to lick her lips. “I think you possess so many qualities I’d love to have in my child, Logan. I can sit here for a while and list all your good qualities . . .” She tried to grin, probably to offset the hesitance he caught in her voice.
Then those brilliant blue eyes of hers got glassy, and his heart nearly stopped in his chest. “Will you help me, Logan? I know it may sound a little wild, and I know it’s a lot to ask. I do know that. I’m not taking this lightly, and neither should you. But would you at least think it over?”
He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. Something rose up in his chest and cut off his air. He shoved away from the table and shot to his feet. “I’m sorry, Tess.” His voice felt rough in his throat. “I can’t. No. Just no.”
She looked up at him, the hope in her eyes dissolving into disappointment. Goddammit, that sent a lance through his gut. But she blinked it away, put on her best game face, and murmured, “All right. I understand.” She sat up a little straighter, recomposing herself as her gaze dropped to the table. He was glad for that, because that stark look in her eyes had been almost too much to take. Then she reached for her water glass . . . and he noticed her hand was trembling.