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the operative term here. A McLean didn’t welsh on a dare.
    Another fact of the immaturity that characterized the whole mess, he told himself grimly. A mature man would have gone to Jenkins and Henley and told them flat out that it was a dumb idea. That it violated an underlying code of ethics he intended to live by, and that was that.
    But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d rationalized, telling himself his donation was a selfless act; he hadn’t sold the specimen, after all, as some impecunious med students were rumored to do. What’s more, he’d told himself, he would probably be making some childless couple very happy.
    That was what he told himself whenever a twinge of conscience nagged him over the years. And eventually the twinges grew fewer and farther between. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even thought about it.
    But he did remember. He’d thought about it not an hour ago. Very likely spurred by a subliminal recognition of a face he’d seen before, even if it took a while for his conscious mind to make the connection. And now that kid…
    Closing his eyes, he pictured the child—all big blue eyes and engaging grin under a cap of unruly blond curls. Curls exactly like his. And he’d hugged Terhune.
    Dammit, there was no getting away from facts. In hisline of work, lives often depended on the ability to quickly assess the facts at hand, no matter how meager, and draw conclusions from them. And right now, the few facts he had were leading him to one earthshaking conclusion: that kid could very likely be his son!
    J ILL T ERHUNE eyed her sister with concern as she handed Randi a mug of decaf. They were in the kitchen of the house they shared, inherited from the great-aunt who’d raised them after their stepfather’s death. Matt had gone next door to play with Robbie Spencer the minute they got home, so it was just the two of them. Jill could finally pursue what had been on her mind since picking Randi up.
    “Wanna tell me about it?” The older sister kept her voice casual, pouring herself a coffee and taking a seat across the table from Randi.
    Randi glanced up from her mug with a look of surprise. “Tell you about what?”
    “Whatever it is that’s got you so on edge.” Jill smiled to soften her words. “You’ve been strung tighter than a guitar string ever since I picked you up from work.”
    Randi grinned sheepishly. “That obvious, huh?”
    Jill grinned back. “It’s me, pipsqueak—ol’ eagle eye, Jill the pill, remember?”
    Randi laughed, relaxing for the first time since the upsetting encounter in the ER. Jill’s use of their childhood names for each other could do that. It could also evoke a host of memories. Memories that bound them, reminding them of what they were to each other. Of the love between them, shared gladly these four years with the small boy they both adored.
    Suddenly Randi frowned. Was her sister the only one who’d noted her unease? Besides half the ER staff? “Jill, do you think Matt noticed…”
    Jill laughed and shook her head. “Fortunately he was too wrapped up in the news about the Spencers’ newbaby—even if she isn’t the brother Robbie’d been hoping for.”
    “True,” Randi said with a chuckle. “Remember when he told us Robbie had put in an order for a boy?”
    Jill chuckled, too. “And if it turned out to be a girl, he was going to tell his mother to send her back?”
    “Uh-huh. And then he asked if we could…Oh, God!” Randi dropped her face into her hands. Matt had asked if they could order a baby brother for him.
    Jill reached across the table and gently touched her sister’s shoulder. “Randi, what is it?”
    Randi collected herself, lowering her hands and reaching for her coffee. She took a sip and heaved a sigh. “I’d love to be able to give Matt a baby brother or sister, but…I can’t.”
    “Not by going the route you used to conceive Matt, I agree.” Jill knew her conservative sister was troubled by misgivings over