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the clock let her know it was almost ten, too late to call Liam. His business card lay on the end table next to her coffee cup. She picked up the black card and ran the tip of her index finger over the red embossed lettering.
    Liam Michael Whitmore III, C.E.O.
    Whitmore Incorporated
    His office number was listed on the front of the card. On the back, scribbled in red ink, was Liam’s cellphone number.
    After a few moments she typed Austin fertility clinics into the laptop’s search engine. She figured she’d make a list of places available to do artificial insemination. Liam may not have one yet. On her lunch break the following day she’d call as many as she could to find the one with the first available appointment.
    * * * *
    Abby was stressed beyond belief. The clinics she’d called were all booked months ahead of time, well outside of the timeframe she and Liam had. She massaged her aching forehead and said a silent prayer Liam already had a place available.
    She tapped his business card against the kitchen counter, her cellphone in the other hand. Nerves left her sweaty and her hands trembled. His office number was typed into her phone; all she had to do was hit send . That’s all she had to do to possibly have the money to save her family’s ranch. Five hundred thousand dollars would go a long way toward replacing stolen cattle, and perhaps hiring a few more hands to help out.
    Not to mention the chance to have a baby. Though she wouldn’t allow herself to focus on it, fearing if she got her hopes too high, her heart would break if she wasn’t able to conceive. Her family losing their livelihood would hurt enough; losing this opportunity to have a child would be salt to an exposed wound. Once she’d known the joy of expectation, feeling a tiny life growing within her womb. But it’d been a too brief fourteen weeks, the beautiful experience cut short. Her bad circumstances at the time wouldn’t have been healthy for a baby, so perhaps it’d been for the best.
    Abby stifled the heartache the memory always caused, both for the loss and for the reasons behind it. She stared at the phone and swallowed. The whole conception would be handled professionally. Not an ideal way to bring a child into the world, but she felt sure her baby would never want for love. Her father and brother would probably be disapproving in the beginning toward the way she’d chosen to conceive. But she knew their big hearts would welcome the new family member without a second thought once the child was born.
    She closed her eyes tight and pressed send on her phone. Liam’s phone rang once, twice, three times. A bit relieved, she waited to be routed to his voicemail.
    “Liam Whitmore’s office.”
    She sucked in a hard breath and nearly dropped the phone. “Uh…hi…this is Abby Haden, Abigail Haden that is.”
    “Yes, Miss Haden,” the receptionist said quickly. “Please hold.”
    Several seconds passed.
    “This is Liam.”
    “I…” Abby paused, searching her heart one last time. Her grip on her cellphone tightened, and her courage failed. “I…I…”
    “What’s the holdup?” Liam asked, his voice gruff.
    She flinched. “H-holdup?” she stammered.
    “Seven hundred fifty thousand dollars, and that’s the final offer, Miss Haden. Take it or leave it.”
    Abby blinked. “That’s not—”
    “Take it or leave it,” Liam interrupted. “I want an answer now.”
    His brisk tone set her on edge and raised her ire.
    Her courage returned. “Fine, but I have a requirement.”
    His pause felt tangible through the phone, and she feared he’d had second thoughts. Not that she’d back down from her decision.
    “What is it?” He nearly growled the question.
    She filled her lungs with air. “I want two hundred fifty thousand upon conception, the rest after the baby is born.”
    Another pause. “We have a deal.” His anger had disappeared, his voice holding no hint of emotion.
    Abby blew out her pent-up breath. “Okay,