A slow smile spread across Ethan’s mouth.
“I’m not saying yes, Ethan,” Alexandra felt compelled to point out.
“But you’re not saying no.” He was trying to temper his smile but she could see the relief in his eyes. The hope.
He wants this as much as I do.
She’d forgotten that there were men who craved children as much as women did.
“We need to talk more,” she said. “A lot more.”
“Absolutely. How about dinner at my place on Saturday night?”
It would be the first time they’d seen each other outside the office or the racquetball court. And it seemed like a huge leap into the unknown. Still … “Okay. That sounds good.”
“Then it’s a date,” he said.
And even though she knew there were so many things that could go wrong, she felt lighter than she had in weeks. If this worked out.
Dear Reader,
I grew up in a world where I was told girls (women!) could do anything and become anyone when they grew up. An astronaut, a doctor, a lawyer, a soldier. The notion of having a career was something that was, well, normal for the generation of women I went to school with, and this is definitely the case for my heroine, Alexandra Knight. She’s been determined to make her mark in the world and secure her own future ever since she was a little girl.
But she has another dream—the dream of being a mother. A dream she’s afraid she’s left too late to pursue at the ripe old age of thirty-eight. But Alex has never been the type to roll over without a fight. The Best Laid Plans is Alex’s story—and the story of the wonderful, damaged, generous man she stumbles across on her way to the maternity ward.
I hope you enjoy Alex and Ethan’s journey to happiness. I had a wonderful—and emotional—time writing it. If you’d like to drop me a line, I love to hear from readers and you can reach me via my website at www.sarahmayberry.com
Until next time, happy reading,
Sarah Mayberry
After several international moves, SARAH MAYBERRY now lives in Melbourne, Australia, her home town, with her partner of nearly twenty years. She is the proud owner of a mini orchard, complete with quince and fig trees and raspberry canes. When she’s not writing or thinking about all the jam she will make one day, she likes to shop for shoes and almost anything else. She also loves cooking, movies and, of course, reading.
This was a hard one. Big thanks and hugs and commiserations and air kisses to Chris and Wanda, my frontline pit crew who cheered me on from the sidelines and gave me the occasional kick when I needed it and listened to all my whining and gnashing of teeth.
Also thanks to the Libster for very generously sharing her knowledge of artificial insemination with me.
“DAMN YOUR EYES, WHERE did you come from?”
Alexandra Knight plucked at the run climbing the right leg of her panty hose, sending it racing even farther up her leg. When she’d pulled on her hose ten minutes ago, they’d been perfect. And she knew for a fact that there wasn’t another pair anywhere in her apartment since she’d already dragged these ones out of the laundry in desperation.
She checked her watch. She was already in the underground garage of her apartment building. If she went upstairs and changed into a pantsuit, she’d chew up ten minutes, minimum. But if she swung into the convenience store near her downtown Melbourne office, she might make her first meeting. If she hustled.
Decision made, she strode the final few feet to her car and beeped it open. She reversed out of her spot with a rev of the engine, then shot up the ramp and into the street.
The parking gods were smiling on her and she drove straight into a space in front of the minimart on St. Kilda Road. She was out of the car and heading for the door in no seconds flat.
She had three pairs of panty hose in hand when she hurried out the door two minutes later, only to find the sidewalk blocked by a tall blond man attempting to wrangle a complicated-looking stroller that had become entangled with one of the many bags hanging from its handle. She sidestepped, her thoughts on the day ahead. Her corporate client Jamieson was keen to have the contract of sale she was negotiating on their behalf signed off by the end of the week, which meant she had to redraft the contract by this afternoon so they could—
“Alex.”
She turned instinctively.
“Jacob,” she said, one foot on the curb, the other in the gutter, stunned by the unlikely coincidence of seeing her ex. Her gaze dropped to the small body strapped securely in the stroller he was pushing. There was no missing the resemblance between man and child.
He was a father.
Jacob, the man she’d lived with for seven years, the man who had refused to even discuss having a child with her, had had a child with someone else. Some other woman.
For a moment Alex could do nothing but blink.
She had begged him to reconsider his anti-child stance. They’d fought over it so many times she’d lost count. He’d always been so adamant. So certain, even when they were packing their things and going their separate ways.