He was no different than a sperm bank, except that he had party favors-a hard dick, fingers, a tongue. He’d got her off a few times. So? So, nothing. She belonged to Foster Speakman, and so did the baby she would have. Bingo. Mission accomplished. Time to pop corks.

So long, Griff Burkett. It was nice knowing you. Nice fucking you. Nice fucking you over.

And if he had any doubt of that, he had only to listen to her husband’s gushing monologue. “You should have seen her this morning when that third test was positive.” He placed his fist over his mouth to contain his rising emotion. “Her face…I’ve never seen her look more beautiful than when she smiled at me and said, ‘We have a baby.’ We. That two-letter word was extremely meaningful to a man in my condition.”

“I’ll bet.”

Speakman didn’t seem to pick up on Griff’s snideness. He was too caught up in his euphoria. “Even before she took the test, I knew she was pregnant. Her breasts are already fuller. So tender she won’t let me touch them.” He laughed. “It would embarrass her, my telling you this. Forgive me for going on and on. I can’t help it. My heart is full to overflowing. And I’m still a bit drunk, I think.”

That reminded him to offer Griff another drink. Griff declined with a shake of his head. At the mention of Laura’s breasts, he’d shot the remainder of his whiskey. It had made his ears ring and his heart beat fast. He felt clammy and a little nauseated.

“Do you have any inclinations toward what it is?” Foster asked.

“What what is?”

“The baby. Did you feel particularly abundant in X’s or Y’s the day it was conceived?”

On the day it was conceived, what he’d felt was Laura. Her skin. Her heat. Her passion. The whiskey had caused his throat to sting, but he managed to say, “No. I never thought about it one way or the other.”

“I think about it constantly,” Speakman admitted sheepishly. “Our child’s sex-in fact, all its characteristics-were determined the instant the egg was fertilized. Isn’t that amazing?”

“Amazing.” Amazing how many times I came inside her.

“I can’t wait to know whether it’s a boy or a girl, but we can’t find out till the fifth month.”

Amazing how many times we came together.

Speakman chuckled. “Five months from now you’ll probably be lying on the beach of some Caribbean island with a cold drink in one hand and a hot chick in the other.”

Griff forced a smile. “Sounds good.”

“I guess you’ll eventually know about the baby. What it is. What we named it. You’ll probably read the announcement in the newspaper.”

“If that Caribbean island gets newspapers.”

Speakman grinned. “You’re sure you won’t have another drink?”

“No thanks.”

Speakman reached for Griff’s glass and carried it with him to the bar. As before, he went through a ritual of placing their glasses in the rack beneath the sink, wiping the spotless countertop, and folding the towel until all the edges were even. After he’d hung it in the towel ring, he adjusted the hem again. When it finally met with his satisfaction, he washed his hands with sanitizer.

Then he lightly slapped the arms of his wheelchair three times. “Now, down to business.” He did that weird back-and-forth thing with his chair, then rolled over to the desk. On top was what appeared to be a box of stationery. Indicating it, he said, “Your money.”

Griff made no move toward it.

Speakman, misreading his hesitancy, laughed. “Go ahead. It’s yours. Look in the box.”

Griff approached the desk and indifferently lifted the lid off the box. Inside it were stacks of hundred-dollar bills, neatly banded with paper strips.

“Pretty, isn’t it?”

Griff gnawed the inside of his cheek, saying nothing. He was afraid of what he would say if he spoke, afraid he would tell Speakman the low opinion he had of a man who would pay another to have sex with his wife, no matter how lofty the reason.

Out of curiosity, he’d looked up that Bible story. It was the wife, Sarah, who had sent another woman to her husband, but basically the situation was the same. It hadn’t worked out too well in Genesis. In fact, things had got real mucked up. And all because this Sarah had wanted a baby, and wanted it her way.

You could tell yourself it was only biology, but it was still sex. It was still a man and woman lying down together and using equipment that was functional but also pleasure giving. Nobody had yet invented anything more intimate.

What he wanted to know was: How could any man ask that of his wife? Contempt for Foster Speakman roiled inside his gut along with the whiskey, along with his jealousy.

Of course, he was no prince of virtue. He was taking the man’s cash. He would deal with his disgust for himself later. But right now, he was revolted by Speakman, who was smiling at him like he’d won a jackpot, smiling without giving a thought to the emotional turmoil Griff and Laura had suffered for the sake of his foolish, selfish, stubborn demand.

“I won’t be insulted if you want to count it.”

Griff shook his head.

Speakman looked at him curiously. “Frankly, I’m surprised.”

“By?”

“Your reserve. Have you gone shy on me?”

“What did you expect?”

“More…” He made a rolling motion with his hands. “Reaction. Exuberance. You act almost reluctant to take your pay, like you’re sorry-” He broke off and studied Griff for a moment, then began to laugh. “Oh, dear.”

“What?”

“You don’t want it to end, do you? That’s it, isn’t it? You’re sorry those afternoon interludes with Laura are at an end.”

“That’s nuts.”

Speakman shook his index finger at him. “I don’t think so.”

“Let’s just settle our business so I can get outta here.” Even to his own pounding ears, his voice sounded like a growl.

“Ah, Griff, don’t be embarrassed. Making love to my wife is no hardship duty. Well I know. How could you help but get a crush on her? Like your gambling, you developed a taste for her, didn’t you? The more you had, the more you wanted. Now it’s hard to give her up. I understand. Truly I do.”

Griff clenched his fists.

Speakman chuckled again, then held up both hands, palms out. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I apologize for laughing at you, but it’s just so damn amusing. Your job is over and you’ve earned your money, but you’re heartbroken about it. Can’t you appreciate the irony?” Speakman winked up at him. “You’re so downcast, I think you must have really enjoyed doing her.”

That clipped the last tenuous thread of Griff’s restraint. He gave vent to his disgust. “You sick fuck.”

“Possibly,” Speakman said affably. “But at least I’m not horny for another man’s wife, for a woman I can never, ever have again. Poor Griff, poor Griff, poor Griff.”

Griff glared down at him through a red mist of rage, then turned his head away and searched the desktop, looking for something, anything, that would silence that maddening, taunting chant.

“Mrs. Speakman?”

Laura had been staring through the airplane window as the jet made its final approach into Dallas. She’d been addressed by a flight attendant leaning across the empty aisle seat.

“When we get to the gate, I’ll be escorting you off ahead of the other passengers.”

“Oh, no, please don’t.” She disliked being given any special treatment when on a SunSouth flight.

The young woman smiled. “Sorry, orders from the cockpit.”

“Why?”

“The tower informed the pilot that you were being met immediately upon arrival.”

“Met? By whom?”

The attendant lowered her voice to a whisper. “Maybe by that handsome husband of yours. I remember that time on your birthday when he set up a string orchestra in baggage claim. Such a romantic surprise. Anyway, you’re to obey captain’s orders and disembark first.”

She hoped that Foster didn’t have an elaborate homecoming planned for her tonight. It had been an exhausting day, starting early and ending much later than it should have. All she wanted to do was go home, take a quick shower, and then have a long night’s sleep.