“But Rachel, where does love and marriage fit into this?”
Rachel closed her planner with a snap. “It doesn’t.” She walked over to the window and stared out into the darkness. “I’ve always wanted to be a mother. I’ve dreamed of holding a child in my arms, someone I could love and who would love me in return, unconditionally.
Turning to Genie, she continued, “It seems that every relationship I get into, the man wants to change me into someone he wants me to be. A baby won’t do that. I happen to like who I am, and I’m sure that my child will like who I am too.”
“Alright, I understand your wanting to have a child. And since you haven’t found Mr. Right, I can see why you aren’t looking for a relationship at this late date. So, why not just go to a sperm bank?”
Rachel shuddered. “That would be my last resort. Just the thought of having some mystery man’s sperm injected into my uterus gives me the creeps.”
“Put that way...” Shrugging away her reservations, Genie watched her friend sympathetically. “I still think you’re going about this all wrong, but I’ll help you however you want me to.”
“Thanks, Genie. I need to continue my search for The Babymaker.”
Genie blinked. “The what?”
Blushing, Rachel grinned. “I can use a nickname, too. That’s what I’m calling him...whoever he is.”
“So where are you going to look next?”
“Hell, I’m an ad executive. I’ll just write my own ad for my babymaker,” she said with quiet determination.
With a resigned look on her face, Genie cringed. “Honey, I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
2
Fidgeting, all Rachel could think about was the stack of paperwork awaiting her attention back at her desk. The afternoon was turning out to be endless. Entertaining the customer was all part of the ad business—the unwritten part of the contract, which states you have to humor your client to make him happy, so he’ll want to buy more ads from your agency. At the insistence of her client, Rachel stood at the rear of the room, irritated and tapping her toe.
She smothered a groan when the photographer made yet another adjustment to the aluminum shield directing light toward the set. Experience told her this would just be the beginning of another round of minor adjustments before the shot would be “right.” Sure enough, Evelyn instructed her assistant to move the section of split-rail fence, which served as a prop behind the male model.
“Jesse, I need you to lean back against the rail,” Evelyn said, before looking through the viewfinder of her camera once more.
The photographer’s dulcet tones grated on Rachel’s ears. She might as well say, Jesse, take off your clothes, so intimate was the suggestion in her voice.
Not that Rachel could blame the woman. She often fought to keep her own poise when those baby blues were trained on her. And drat the man. He certainly knew his appeal.
The model aimed a smile at the photographer and adjusted his stance. As Jesse hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans, Rachel could imagine the photographer’s lenses fogging at this slight, but ultimately male gesture. Every female eye was now glued to the bulge framed by his hands at the front of his jeans.
“Is this what you want?” he drawled.
He was a natural at this. The camera loved him, as did every woman in the room. Except for her, of course. Rachel stiffened her spine with the self-admonishment; she had to endure this for the sake of her client. Problem was, the model was also the client.
Jesse Jordan owned a chain of ranch supply stores stretching across south Texas. He had built the chain from a single rundown store that had been in his family for years. In his mid-thirties, he was now a multi-millionaire who lived on a large, sprawling ranch in the Texas Hill Country.
But it wasn’t his wealth that was heating up the room. Even the bright light aimed at the cowboy couldn’t approach the wattage of the smile he wore.
If only Jesse were fat, dumb and obnoxious.
Unfortunately, he was quite the opposite. Sun-kissed, golden hair curled down to the top of his collar, and his skin was tanned and healthy from hours of working in the outdoors. Those clear blue eyes of his had slight crinkles at the corners from the smile that was quick to light his face. And that moustache, not too full, and only a shade darker than the hair on top of his head, drew attention to a mouth that engendered wicked fantasies.
Today, he wore a chambray shirt, slightly faded blue jeans, cowboy boots, and a white cowboy hat. Lean and broad-shouldered, with more than his share of sex appeal, he was the cowboy every girl dreamed of riding off into the sunset with.
At their first meeting, Rachel saw the potential of his appeal, and worked hard to convince him he would be the perfect spokesman and model for advertising his own stores. If nothing else, the entire female population of Texas would probably frequent the stores in hopes of catching a glimpse of the gorgeous owner. He’d agreed to model, but only on the condition that Rachel be there at every shoot.
Looking around, Rachel noted with disgust the overabundance of female assistants present at this particular photo session. Every time Jesse was in the building, there was a flurry of women gathered around him. So why did he insist she be present? He didn’t appear to be the least bit nervous. He had enough adoring fans without her to add to the melee.
Refusing to become a part of the crowd of worshipful women, Rachel stood in the shadows and observed. She had a strict policy for herself: Never get involved with a client. It just wasn’t professional to mix business and personal relationships. She’d worked darned hard to get where she was in this business and one blue-eyed cowboy was not going to put a spoke in her wheels.
“Jesse, honey, could you open the top two buttons of your shirt a little to show off that handsome chest?” Evelyn asked.
Rachel ground her teeth.
“I don’t know about that. What are we trying to sell here, ranch supplies or sex?” Jesse smiled, and winked in Rachel’s direction giving her a start, before moving his long tanned fingers to open the requested buttons in a slow strip tease.
“If it’s sex you’re selling, I’ll be first in line to buy.” The photographer’s camera continued to click and whir, even as she spoke.
“How far do you want me to go?” he asked, as his hand paused on the next button.
“All the way,” a chorus of feminine voices sang out.
Rachel rolled her eyes. Oh, brother.
Jesse laughed and stuck his thumbs back in the pockets of his jeans.
Uncomfortable at the ease of familiarity the photographer shared with Jesse, Rachel refrained from rebuking her. Evelyn was worth everything she was paid. She was one of the best in the business. When a client was also the model in a shoot, she was called on to do the work. The scrutiny and attention to every gesture and pose tended to make inexperienced models nervous and uncomfortable. Evelyn knew how to put them at ease, bringing out their best traits in the finished photograph. Rachel grudgingly acknowledged the sexual banter certainly brought out the sensual appeal of this particular client. She moved further into the shadows to avoid his knowing eyes.
One of the lighting assistants smiled and batted her eyes at Jesse. “Jesse, are you thirsty? Could I get you something? Anything?”