Danielle Steel - Dating Game

“What did he want?” She didn't look enthused.

“He asked if you'd donate a kidney,” Bix teased her. “Don't look so suspicious. He said he had to see a client here next week, and I think he wanted to know if you wanted to have lunch.”

“I don't,” she said curtly, tossing the message in the trash.

“Don't be such a pain in the ass,” Bix said, looking annoyed. “He's a nice man.” They had chatted for a few minutes on the phone, and Bix had invited him to stop by sometime. If Paris wouldn't have lunch with him, he would. “What have you got to lose?”

“My sanity and self-respect. I'm fond of both.”

“Where were you this morning, by the way?” She usually let him know where she went, and she had left a message on the machine saying she'd be late, but not why.

“I had my teeth cleaned.” She smiled at him, but something in her eyes told him it was something else.

“You must have more teeth than I do. You were gone a hell of a long time.”

“I had to wait,” she said, and went back to her desk. She didn't call Andrew Warren. He was a nice man, but there was no point. She could always see him sometime in L.A. when she visited Richard and Meg. Meg said they saw a lot of him. And she saw no reason to cultivate a friendship. She didn't need or want a male friend. She had Bix.

She heard from Alice Harper, as promised, the following week. Paris had returned as many of the forms as she could fill out. She still had to get her fingerprints done, and a computer check of her criminal record, but she'd been planning to do that in the next few days. And she wasn't prepared for what Alice said.

“I have a birth mother for you, Paris,” she said, and Paris could feel her heart pound. This was much better than a date. This was forever, just like a baby of her own. It was like waiting to find out if she was pregnant, in the early days of her marriage. They had been the best years of her life. And this was a way of bringing those days back, without Peter of course. But you couldn't have everything. Not anymore.

“Tell me about her,” Paris said, as she closed her office door. Bix glanced out of his office and saw her do it, and had the feeling that something smoky was going on. He hoped she wasn't looking for another job. Paris never closed her door.

“She's nineteen years old, in college in the Bay Area, from a solid family in Mill Valley. She's healthy, anxious to pursue her education. She's very athletic, which is why she didn't know she was pregnant. She didn't find out till she was five months along.”

“How pregnant is she now?”

“Seven months. The baby is due on December first. She's not into drugs, and hasn't had any alcohol since she found out. She says only a little beer and wine before that, she's on the tennis team at her school, so she's pretty wholesome. She's been drug tested, and she's clean. And judging from the photographs, she's a very pretty girl, blond hair, blue eyes, she looks a little like you. I'm going to see her myself tomorrow. The birth father is twenty-two, just graduated from Stanford, working in New York. Four point oh GPA all through college, he sounds like a real brain. No drugs. They went out for two years, and broke up six months ago. They don't want to get married, neither of them wants the baby, nor do their parents. His family is pretty well known in the city. I think they just want this to go away. You could be the answer to their prayers.”

“How does the birth mother feel about me? Does she mind that I'm single and older?” Paris asked, feeling humble. In a way, it was worse than dating, because there was so much at stake. A child for the rest of her life.

“She's going to talk to two other couples. So this isn't a sure thing. Let's get your home study complete as fast as we can do it. Have you told your kids?” Alice asked.

“My daughter won't be home from her honeymoon for two more weeks.”

“That's soon enough. Let's see where this goes.” And on Saturday afternoon, she called Paris at home. She was sitting in her living room, in front of the fire, reading a book. And for some odd reason, she'd been thinking of Jean-Pierre, missing him, and wondering how he was. She hoped he was happy and well.

“The birth mother wants to meet you,” Alice told Paris. “She's going to see the other couples too.” This was auditioning big time. “Are you free tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.” She was having dinner with Wim, but she had no other plans. Her life was quiet these days. Quieter than it had ever been.

Alice named a restaurant in the heart of town, where they could meet and talk for as long as they wanted. She said the birth mother was coming alone. They agreed on two o'clock, and Paris said she'd be there. And when she showed up exactly on schedule the following afternoon, the young woman walked in at almost exactly the same time. She was a beautiful girl, with a lean athletic figure, and the baby was a tight neat ball that hardly showed, despite her seven months. The birth mother looked strikingly like Meg.

They were given a quiet corner table, and the girl looked uncomfortable, so Paris spoke first. She asked how she was feeling, and she gave Paris a shy smile.

“Stupid mostly. I should have figured it out. My periods are so irregular, I just missed it.” She told Paris afterward that her parents were extremely upset, especially her dad. She was an only child, and the apple of his eye. Paris wanted to ask her if she was sure of what she was doing, but Alice had suggested she not do that. The girl said she was certain she didn't want the baby. She talked about her boyfriend then. She said it had been a very acrimonious breakup, and they didn't want to see each other again, for the moment.

“What if you get back together?” Paris asked quietly. “Do you think you would want the baby back?” Legally, they wouldn't have a leg to stand on, Alice had said, once the papers were signed, but Paris was worried about it anyway. What if they harassed her, or tried to overturn the adoption in court? They were all normal fears for her to have. It was all unfamiliar to her.

“No, I wouldn't. I don't want a baby. I want to go to school in Europe next year, and finish school. I can't do anything I want with a baby. And he wants to go to law school and doesn't want it either. I just can't take care of a baby, and my parents won't.” She sounded as sensible as any nineteen-year-old girl, and sensible enough to know that she wasn't responsible enough to bring up a child. She was still one herself. She was the same age as Wim, and Paris couldn't imagine him with a baby for a long time to come. The birth mother's name was Jennifer, and they sat and talked for two hours. It was obvious that she liked Paris, and she said so when they left. And after that Paris went home and cooked dinner for Wim. They had an easy quiet evening, and she was dying to tell him about the baby, but she didn't want to tell him before she told Meg. She wanted to tell them together, it only seemed fair to both of them.

She spoke to Alice again on Monday, and she said it was looking good. The birth mother liked her a lot. And after she hung up, Paris was beaming when she came out of her office, and Bix looked upset.

“What's wrong?” She looked at him with a warm grin.

“You tell me,” he said, and asked her to come into his office and sit down. “Paris, what the hell is going on?” She suddenly wondered if she'd screwed something up for a client, and was worried by the look on his face.

“With what?” He looked furious with her, but in truth he was scared.

“Either you're having an affair, or you're looking for a new job. And since you insist you won't date, I figure it's the latter. Every time I walk past your office, the door is closed, and you look like a Cheshire cat.” He looked profoundly upset, and Paris felt badly to have caused him concern.