Baby Be Mine Read online

  “In this part of town? Like this?” Clarice gestured to their surroundings.

  “Yes, in this part of town. Like this,” Hunter said simply, then continued on walking, pretending to admire the view around them.

  “I wouldn’t expect a guy like you to be seen walking on a footpath like this.”

  “What? Can’t a Greek god like me walk on this footpath too?” He inched closer to her.

  “Yes, you can, but not near me,” Clarice said, feeling a little intimidated as he stood so close. She walked faster, trying to outdo him, but no matter how fast she walked, her short legs could only take her so far, and his long stride dissolved more distance than hers.

  “The footpath is quite small. Of course I have to stand near you while walking,” Hunter said.

  Clarice ceased her power-walking and stood facing him. She almost craned her neck just to see his face. Hell, from this distance, she felt so small standing next to him. In the afternoon sunlight, his long, dusty corn silk hair shone as if spun gold atop his head, and her hands yearned to run through it. Clarice, how could you? She mentally slapped herself for feeling this way toward this Casanova.

  “Are you going this way for your walk?” Clarice asked in her serious tone, pointing to the right.

  “Mmmm.” Hunter nodded.

  “Good. Then I’m going that way,” Clarice thumbed to her left. “Away from you. Good-bye, Hunter. I hope I never see you again,” Clarice said, summoning all of her energy for her power-walk retreat, no looking back. Then she glanced at her watch and cringed. Yikes, only half an hour to go before she had to meet up with the representative at the Silverton Hotel.

  Clarice hastened her pace, but once again she felt his presence next to her. Why was her body so in tune with him? She didn’t even need to see him at all. Her body could just tell her he was near. It was like he released some kind of pheromone that only her body responded to.

  “What are you doing now? Going back to your car?” Clarice asked as Hunter followed her yet again.

  “Yep. I’ve had enough walking,” Hunter said, stalking after her.

  “Good. I’ll make way for you.” Clarice paused and stepped to the edge of the footpath so Hunter could bypass her, but instead, he just stood next to her.

  “Mmm, the view looks nice from here,” Hunter said, pretending to look around again.

  “Hunter, are you trying to annoy me here?” she asked.

  “Am I annoying you? I’m just enjoying the view by standing here.” He turned to see some bushes that needed cutting. It was very unappealing, and some of the branches even snaked out onto the footpath.

  “You are literally wedged to me like we’re sardines in a can,” Clarice said when Hunter drew himself closer to her, almost imprisoning her with his body.

  “Am I? I didn’t know.” He feigned ignorance.

  “All right, enough of this.” Clarice’s temper shot through the roof. “You go back to your car and I’m going back to mine. End of story.”

  “Ha-ha-ha-ha.”

  “What are you laughing at now?”

  “I was just betting with myself how long before I could make you lose your temper.”

  “And?”

  “And it didn’t even last five minutes.”

  “That’s because you rile me up, on purpose.”

  Hunter turned serious all of a sudden, making her heart thump unevenly again. He leaned closer, making sure she couldn’t escape, and whispered, “You know, my tastes don’t usually extend to older women, but for you, Madam Avocado, I’ll make an exception.” Then he smiled at her, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

  “Get off me.” Clarice pushed at Hunter’s chest, but he wouldn’t even budge, keeping her wedged between him and the bushes. “I said get away from me.” She shoved him again, and this time he moved back easily. Composing herself now so her breath would behave, she said, “I don’t need you to make an exception for me. I’m not interested.”

  “Oh, what kind of men are you interested in, then?”

  “None of your concern.” She turned away her face in annoyance.

  “Fine. Just curious, because a girl in her thirties cannot always be selective. You know the saying: beggars can’t be choosers. For now, Avocado, you’re a beggar.”

  “How?”

  “You’re thirty.”

  “And would you be so kind as to elaborate?”

  “You know how it goes. Women in their thirties are old, while we men in our thirties, we’ve just reached our prime.”

  “And the point of this whole conversation is…?”

  “That you can’t always wait for the right person for you. When the offer comes up, you have to grab it, because, Avocado, your time is running out fast. Dare I say that your mechanics might not be functioning properly downstairs?”

  “Downstairs?”

  “Yes, downstairs.” Hunter nodded, eyeing her pelvic area.

  When the meaning sank in, she slapped Hunter’s shoulder with her bag. “You bastard! Mother, Father, please forgive me for swearing, but you bastard, incompetent human being. How could you say this to a lady? Just how old are you?

  “Twenty-three.” Hunter laughed while being slapped around by Clarice, pretending to defend himself with his arms. Oh Lord help him, he really enjoyed teasing and tormenting this woman. He hadn’t had so much fun in ages.

  “Only twenty-three and you’re saying things like that to your elders. God, if I were your mother I’d smack your bottom right now.”

  Those words coming out of Clarice’s mouth suddenly made Hunter hard. He stood still, staring at her. God, he was turned on by this woman, who was a good seven years older than him. How was this possible? He’d never found older women attractive before. Yes, she was very attractive and did catch his eye in the beginning, but now knowing her age, he still felt this lustful effect from her.

  Clarice, noticing Hunter had gone quite still, stopped thrashing him and stood quietly staring at him with her big black pupils.

  Hunter didn’t like this. He didn’t like it one bit. He wasn’t used to these feelings. He was used to chasing women and then throwing them away, never to have any deeper involvement with anyone. This was foreign territory. He wanted to hold her and smash his lips against hers right there and then, on the damn, tiny, suffocating footpath. Feeling as if he were going to give in to this brewing temptation and with the hardness that was growing downstairs, he uttered a breathless, “I gotta go,” and then made a dash to his car.

  Clarice continued to stand right there, silently watching Hunter in confusion, wondering why he had suddenly run off and drove away like a criminal pursued by a cavalcade of police officers.

  Only when Hunter was out of her eyesight did her mind bring back the uncooked soup of thoughts. Extracting her last bag of chocolate cookies, she nibbled away, walking aimlessly, unaware she had made her way to the colossal Silverton Hotel until she realized she’d finished the whole bag.

  The Silverton Hotel boasted five-star accommodations, with head chefs flown all the way from France and Italy. Not her type of food, but a five-star hotel sounded exciting enough when she heard she would be staying there for the conference in Queenstown.

  Clarice walked through the double glass doors that opened into a cavernous foyer and reception area. The Silverton color theme was red, gold, and white. According to fêng shui, those were the perfect colors for success. Feeling her surroundings had changed, she was now somewhat quite relaxed and not so agitated.

  As Clarice made a turn to walk to the reception area, she slammed into a hard chest. Running her eyes upwards, she saw the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on, excluding the Casanova, of course.

  Criteria number one: handsome. Check.

  She almost fell, but he held her in place before she toppled over backwards.

  Criteria number two: a gentleman. Check.

  “Are you all right?” the gentleman asked her.

  Clarice nodded her head. “Yes, I’m fin
e. Thank you.”

  Criteria number three: sincere. Check.

  “Are you one of the guests here? I can escort you to your room.” the gentleman asked.

  Clarice looked at the stranger in awe. “No, I’m not a guest here. I’m here for an appointment. My name is Clarice Chantee Mason, the periodontist who is to speak at the Dental Hygiene Conference in Queenstown.”

  “Miss Mason,” the gentleman said. “Thank you for coming all the way here. You are one of our special guests. My name is Anton Silverton. I believe one of our representatives is expecting you.”

  “Anton Silverton,” Clarice repeated. “Like the name of this hotel?”

  “Yes. I am the CEO. My uncle owns the hotel, though. I am his nephew. Perhaps you have heard of him, Clinton Silverton, born in America.”

  Anton Silverton, nephew of Clinton Silverton, who owned a massive chain of hotels all over the world. Anton Silverton, CEO of this hotel.

  Reputation. Check. Smart. Check. Rich. Check.

  What more could she say? She had finally found the perfect sperm donor.

  Chapter 11

  “I’ve found the perfect sperm for my baby,” Clarice announced to her two best friends and cousin while drinking her green tea in the sidewalk dining area of their favorite coffee shop later that afternoon.

  As soon as Clarice uttered this sentence, three things happened at once. Max choked on his freshly squeezed orange juice, which required a thump on his back to recover. Elise, who was drinking her fruit juice, just left the straw hanging from her mouth. And Whitney, who was about to say something, dropped her already gaped jaw like a Venus flytrap waiting for its next meal.

  “All right, you guys, I’m sure my news isn’t all that exciting,” Clarice said, thumping her cousin on the back before pulling down Elise’s straw and nudging Whitney’s chin so her mouth would close.

  “You mind repeating that again, cuz?” Max asked when he’d recovered. “My mind is a bit boggled with midterm exams right now. Can’t think properly. And then you have to drop this bomb on us like that.”

  “Max, my dear, if my news is causing your brain cells to dysfunction, then you should’ve stayed home to study for your exams instead of coming here to entertain us.”

  “I’m just a kind cousin.” Max grinned mischievously from ear to ear.

  “No, you’re here because you want to drink and eat free food,” Whitney said.

  “Okay, that could be the reason too,” Max said, shooting a death glare toward Whitney, then wound his arm around Elise. “But anywho, you were saying you found the perfect sperm for your baby? Who is this bro all of a sudden? I thought you were going to report back to us about your date last week.”

  “Yes, Clarice, I thought that was why we’d decided to meet up here,” Elise agreed.

  “Well, regarding that candidate, he dumped me on the spot,” Clarice announced simply, like she was commenting about the fine weather today.

  “What?” Whitney stood, an angry look on her face. They all knew when Whitney had that look on her face, it meant death.

  “Whitney, calm down. Don’t be drastic. Let Clarice explain first,” Elise said, pulling on Whitney’s sleeve, all too aware now of the audience they were gaining. Elise didn’t like audiences. She avoided being the center of attention at all costs.

  “Explain, then,” Whitney stated, sitting back down, readjusting the glasses she wore for her outside persona.

  “He saw my age and dumped me,” Clarice told them.

  “Why that no-good piece of crap. If I see him, I’ll kill him for sure.” Whitney seethed, standing again, while Max slammed his fist down on the table so sudden and forceful that it made the table shake, along with both Clarice and Elise too.

  “No one dumps my cousin,” Max fumed and stood too. “Only she is allowed to dump them first.” Then he turned to Clarice and said, “Who is the bastard, Clarice? Tell me so I can give him a taste of my fist.”

  Max was all hyped up, rolling up his sleeves to reveal his underdeveloped muscles to prove he could protect his cousin. “Even better yet, I’ll give him a full face reconstruction. What do you say, cuz?”

  “Brilliant, Max, brilliant. I agree with you wholeheartedly. We should give him a leg reconstruction too,” Whitney added.

  By this time, their commotion had alerted the other patrons in the café. Now all eyes were on them, which made Elise sink even lower into her chair.

  “God, you two, will you both calm down? You’re like a bunch of clowns. Sit down right now. We’re not in a circus, you know.” Clarice stood also, to calm them down.

  “I’m not a clown. I’m a school kid,” Max said, grumbling under his breath, sitting back down in his chair obediently like a good schoolboy would.

  “I know, but the way both of you are acting, you’re more like clowns to me. Now sit,” Clarice said sternly.

  “Yes, Whitney. Please sit down. You’re making a scene,” Elise said, tugging on Whitney’s sleeve.

  “I can’t help it,” she said in irritation.

  “Of course you can’t help it. You can never help it.” Elise started giggling all of a sudden.

  “What’s so funny?” Whitney asked with a heated glare.

  “You never change, Whitney. Not since intermediate school,” Elise said, still giggling.

  Elise was thinking of the episode when Whitney punched a boy in the nose so hard he ended up bleeding and taken to hospital, all because that boy badmouthed Clarice about being half-blooded.

  Whitney seemed to know what Elise was referring to, so she just smiled. “Gotta defend my BFF.”

  “And I thank you both for that,” Clarice said, remembering that particular occasion also.

  “What are you guys on about?” Max asked at the sudden change of subject.

  “Just about friendships and protecting each other, Max,” Elise said, smiling.

  “Anywho, back to the present topic, then?” Max suggested, uninterested in their mysterious conversation. Was he even born then? He didn’t care. What was more interesting was that bastard that dumped his cousin and the sperm she wanted so badly.

  “Yes, the present topic,” Elise prompted Clarice.

  “Right,” Clarice said, taking a deep breath before revisiting the subject of sperm, babies, the faults of artificial insemination, and her bad date. “He’s perfect, guys. The textbook genetic makeup for my baby.”

  “Is this bro someone else?” Max asked.

  “Indeed, Max, indeed.” Clarice smiled, clasping her hands together, so happy with the prospects panning out before her eyes. Soon she would have her baby. She must start thinking about clothing, putting money aside for education, and how to tell her family. So much to do and so little time.

  “What’s he like?” Max asked, his curiosity piqued about the kind of man that would thus capture his cousin’s attention. Clarice wasn’t ugly so he couldn’t understand why no guy would fall for her. Perhaps she was just a little naïve; that was all. When people looked at her, she assumed they were looking at the girl walking next to her. When men said she looked beautiful, she assumed it was the clothes she wore, not her true self. Low self-esteem, that’s what his cousin’s problem was. All that bullying when she was younger really had an impact on her ability to view herself positively these days.

  “Are you telling me you only want his sperm and not him?” Whitney asked.

  “You are so right, Whitney. So smart. That’s why you’re the editor in chief of E Magazine at such a young age.”

  “Would you stop saying that already? I got the position six months ago. It’s old news now anyway,” Whitney said, embarrassed.

  She hated when her friends mentioned anything about her workplace. She didn’t want her personal life mixed up with her professional life, especially portraying two personas. It was already hard enough to distinguish which role was which. Tilting her coke-bottle lenses back up on her nose, she glared at Clarice.

  “Still, out of all of us, you’re the s
mart one,” Clarice said, smiling at Whitney.

  “You’re the intelligent one. I could never get into dentistry and become a periodontist like you,” Elise said.

  “And you’re the pretty one, Elise,” Max said, smiling and wrapping his arm around her again. “Now, can we get back to the present subject? I want to know who this bro is. And if he’s as smart and hot as me.”

  “Handsome, smart, kind, gentle, sincere. Everything like you, Max. And everything I’ve listed, guys. And to top it all off—you guys won’t believe this—he’s the CEO of Silverton Hotel.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me, Clarice.” Max slammed his palms on the tabletop again. “How did you bump into that god?”

  Max did a lot of internet blog reading, and in New Zealand and Australia right now, the top business in the blue chip industry was Silverton Enterprises, which also owned and operated Silverton Hotel. Whoever was behind that corporate structure, he admired.

  “The god is in fact his uncle. He’s the nephew,” Clarice explained.

  “What’s his name? I could do a little detective work for you,” Max suggested.

  “Anton,” Clarice said.

  “Anton,” Whitney and Elise both parroted.

  Max typed Anton’s name into his phone while sipping the last of his orange juice. Glancing up from the glass, he eyed his cousin, using his big puppy dog eyes.

  “Clarice, cuz, be a dear and give me another ten bucks for some juice.”

  “You just had one,” Clarice said, eyeing Max’s now emptied glass.

  “I know, but I like it. I want to drink another one. This time apple,” Max pleaded.

  “You know drinking too much juice isn’t good for your teeth. Didn’t I tell you this already?” Clarice argued.

  “I know… it causes my teeth to rot if I sip it instead of drinking it all in one go. God, you’re so annoying sometimes. I’m drinking with a straw, aren’t I? So there shouldn’t be any problem, right? Please, just another one. They make good fresh apple juice here. I like it. And when will you be free again to take me out?”

  “No, Max, I won’t allow it.” Clarice didn’t give in to her younger cousin’s plea.