Faking Ms. Right (Dirty Martini Running Club, #1)(10)

“We’ve done our research,” Miranda said. “We made a very thorough list of traits we want to target, and traits we want to avoid. Shepherd Calloway fits in every way.”

Annie looked at me with her eyebrows raised, her eyes big and round. She scrunched up her shoulders and gave me a tentative smile. Oh my god, she wanted—

“No,” I said.

“Everly,” Annie said. “We haven’t asked you anything yet.”

“I know what you’re about to say. And the answer is no. I’m not asking my boss to donate his sperm to you. No freaking way.”

“Come on, Evie,” Annie said. Damn her for invoking my childhood nickname. “It’s impossible to contact the man if you’re not in his inner circle. He’s built the modern equivalent of a medieval fortress around his life. And we realize he has a certain… disposition. That’s why we need you to butter him up for us.”

“Exactly,” Miranda said. “You can start planting the seeds—pun intended—and slowly work your way up to asking him.”

“And how do you expect me to do that?” I asked. “You guys have the wrong idea about my job if you think I can sit down and have a conversation with him. He doesn’t talk to me.”

“You’re his assistant,” Annie said. “Of course he talks to you.”

“No, he talks at me,” I said. “There’s a difference.”

“You’re one of the only people in the entire world who has access to him,” Annie said. “His whole life is so closely guarded, it was hard to even get information about him. But you see him every single day. You’re in his office, alone with him.”

I knew she was right, and there was that thing I liked—being the one who had access to him. I shouldn’t have let that tempt me, but it was irresistible. “Yeah.”

“Just see what you can do,” Annie said. “We don’t expect a miracle. He might not be interested in this sort of arrangement, and that’s fine. We wouldn’t want to put any pressure on him. We just want a chance. And you, my sweet big sister, are that chance. Don’t you see? You’re the key. You’re the only way this works.”

“Oh my god, you’re laying it on thick,” I said.

“Is it working?”

I groaned, my shoulders slumping. “I don’t know. Maybe a tiny bit. I’ll think about it. But I’m not making any promises.”

Annie grabbed my hands. “Thank you. Really, thank you so much. This means the world to us.”

“Don’t get too excited,” I said. “I didn’t say I’d do it. I said I’d think about it.”

“That’s all we’re asking,” Annie said. “Just consider it.”

I picked up the menu and looked at the choices, feeling grumpy. Ask Mr. Calloway to be a sperm donor? How did one even start a conversation like that? Especially with someone you didn’t have real conversations with.

Good morning, Mr. Calloway. You have a nine o’clock meeting with your lawyer, and by the way, would you consider donating sperm to my sister so she and her wife can have a baby with the right genetic traits?

Kill me. There was no way.

But my sister looked so happy. I loved my sister, and I loved making people happy. Was there a way to do this that wouldn’t be totally mortifying? I had no idea, but maybe I could think of something. Although I wondered if my time would be better spent searching for an alternative donor who had the genetic traits they were looking for. Because the thought of asking my boss to donate his baby batter made me want to crawl under the table and die.





5





Shepherd





Straightening the sleeves of my tux, I walked over to the bar at the Four Seasons Hotel. Soft music played in the background and a handful of other people conversed nearby. Tonight’s event was in the ballroom, but I wasn’t ready to make an appearance yet. I was here alone—dateless for once—and I wanted to take my time.

Truth be told, I didn’t want to be here at all. I wasn’t a fan of these events. Giving to charity was fine, but I could do that by having my assistant send a check. These things were for networking. Rubbing elbows. Showing off.

I didn’t need to show off. But I was here anyway. The Seattle Philanthropic Society was presenting my father with an award, and he’d hounded me into being here to see it. Somehow my brother, Ethan, had managed to get out of attending, which meant I really couldn’t leave.

I took a seat at the bar and caught the bartender’s eye. Ordered a Manhattan.

Being here alone was pleasant. No fussy date to attend to. I could arrive late—which I had—and leave early—which I planned to. And I didn’t have to listen to my date’s endless stream of chatter.

I was going to stretch out this period of singlehood. No women for a good, long while. Maybe I’d take that vacation my brother was always bugging me about. Go alone, to a city where no one knew me. Spend my time any way I wanted, my only obligations to myself. It was tempting enough that I almost had myself convinced I’d do it.

But I probably wouldn’t. Time away from the office wasn’t relaxing for me. There were always too many things happening, and I didn’t trust anyone else to run my company.