#Babymaker (Baby Crazy 2)

“Dr. Roman,” she stammered. “Are you serious?”

I nodded coolly.

“As serious as I’ve ever been,” came the words. “I want to have a baby. You want to have a baby. After last night’s interlude, we’re clearly attracted to one another. So why don’t we go about it naturally? I promise, you won’t have fertility problems with me.”

She gasped again, big boobies heaving.

“But Dr. Roman,” she sputtered. “That means we’d have sex! The real thing and not any type of playacting.”

I grinned wolfishly then.

“Yes, absolutely,” I confirmed. “Not just that, but we’d have a lot of it. There’s no time to waste sweetheart, so I’d expect that we’d have sex two or three times a day at least.”

Her jaw almost hit the floor this time. But I could tell Connie was aroused from the flush in her cheeks, the way her breathing was shallow, and how her nipples pebbled against the soft sweater. So I pushed my advantage.

“What do you think, honey? Is this something that attracts you? Does this sound reasonable? After all, you’d get my services for free.”

She blinked again, unable to form any words for a moment. But then the girl nodded.

“Okay, pretend I say yes,” she said on a whisper. “We have a lot of sex and I get pregnant. But what happens then? Do you just take off and disappear?”

I snorted in disbelief.

“Of course not. I want a baby as well, so I’m hardly going to vanish. No sweetheart, pregnant women need sex too. In fact, I’ve heard morning sickness isn’t so bad if you’re having regular sex, so I’d do it to keep you happy and comfortable. Lots of orgasms make for a happy mother.”

Now I was definitely in the gray zone because regular banging helps with menstrual cramps, but it probably wouldn’t do anything for morning sickness other than temporarily distract the female. But hey, I wanted Connie so bad that I was willing to say almost anything at this point.

“Besides,” I asked smoothly. “What do you have to lose? You want to get pregnant and haven’t met a guy who can do it for you. I’m offering myself, and there are a myriad of reasons why I’m an attractive candidate. I have a job, I own my own business, and I’m as rich as Midas.”

She nodded, eyes wide.

“I understand, Dr. Roman,” she said softly. “But after the pregnancy, what happens? What will be your role as the father?”

That was a good question, and I had my reply prepared already.

“We co-raise the child,” I said simply. “We’ll be parents together. The baby will be loved by both his mother and father, and we’ll take turns having the child stay at our respective apartments.”

She nodded, although suddenly her expression grew closed.

“So we wouldn’t be in a relationship,” Connie said carefully. “We’re just friends raising a child together?”

I cleared my throat.

“We’d be more than friends,” was my statement. “And it depends on how you define relationship although no, we probably wouldn’t be in a romantic relationship. I don’t do those. But we’d be in a relationship of sorts, where we co-parent and bring up a child together. So there’s a lot of interaction, even though we’d technically no longer need to have sex.”

She frowned.

“It sounds like I’m more of a womb than anything,” she said slowly. “Kind of like a surrogate who then hands the baby over to you.”

I shook my head.

“Absolutely not,” was my forceful reply. “You’re much more than a surrogate. You’d be a mom, and that’s what I want from you. The child would stay with you half the week, and would call you Mommy. You and I would share in parenting duties. You’d experience the joy of pregnancy, as well as the ups and downs of raising a child. That’s what I want as well,” I said emphatically.

But I could tell Connie still wasn’t convinced.

“But there would be no love,” she said slowly. “No affection.”

I had to be crystal clear about this.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, but that’s right. I’m not built for romance. Besides, the lovey-dovey stuff isn’t real. All those books with Fabio on the cover with his hair blowing in the wind? It’s just make believe. A real-life relationship isn’t like that at all.”

Connie shot me a searching look.

“But how would you know?” she asked softly. “You’ve never been in a real relationship before. You kind of just admitted it yourself,” she said in a gently reproachful voice.

I nodded.

“That’s true, but trust me, it doesn’t take a genius to know that romance novels are pure fantasy. And unfortunately, as a reproductive specialist, I’ve seen just how harsh life can be. Every year, there are dozens of patients who walk away exhausted and disappointed, no closer to having a baby than when they first arrived at my office. So I’m familiar with how heartbreaking real life is.”