Natural Persuasion

By Carol McPhee

A marine biologist, whose biological clock is on the downward slope, responds to a personal column ad from a rancher for a partner to give him an heir. While the biologist's mind is set on artificial insemination, once he meets her, persuasion for natural conception is the rancher's intention.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9781597050357

Book preview

One

Personal column, Vancouver Gazette:

WANTED: Tall, unattached, well-educated female, age 30-35. OBJECTIVE: Children. Marriage not an option. BENEFITS: Financial security and a stable ranch life in interior British Columbia, the most beautiful place on the planet. Please enclose photo. Apply to Box 6457 this newspaper.

Dear Sir:

I am a 33-year-old single female, five-foot-seven, 115 lbs., employed in marine biology. Your desire to raise a family in a picturesque environment caught my interest as it matches my own.

I am not enclosing a photo since I consider the matter of procreation too serious to relegate to a beauty contest. Although healthy and fit, I am not a raving beauty should this be a prime requisite. I’m told my sincerity and even temperament are my best attributes.

If interested, please contact me, and at your convenience we will set up a meeting in a public setting.

Yours truly,

LFC

Phone [phone]

H ello, Dana? Can you come down? I really need to see you! Julie Reagan’s hand trembled while holding the receiver. I’ve done something so stupid I can’t believe it.

I’m on my way!

Two minutes later, her heart beating ridiculously fast, Julie paced the hall in front of her apartment threshold.

Dana, dark ponytail bobbing, breezed down the stairs and stepped inside. What’s this about being stupid? You’re too methodical to do anything dumb.

Julie flipped back her coppery bangs and closed the door. Leaning against the foyer wall she folded her arms. Dana, did you see yesterday’s personal column in the newspaper?

When she nodded, Julie pointed to the edition spread wide on the chrome kitchen table.

I always read that column after I scan the front page. Some of the letters are real dorky. Why do you ask? Dana yanked out a chair and plopped down. Well? C’mon; out with it.

I want you to read an interesting letter that’s in today. Julie slid onto the chair opposite her friend.

There usually are a few intriguing ones; that’s why I read them. Dana raised an eyebrow. Just be glad we’re not so desperate we have to advertise for a mate.

Speak for yourself; you’re engaged. No one rings my bell. Julie hesitated, then stared straight into Dana’s questioning eyes. One letter was so compelling, I answered it.

Tell me you’re kidding. Dana sat up straight, her blue eyes widening with disbelief. You’re not kidding. Which one did you answer? No, let me guess. She hunched over the paper with keen interest, her finger slowly guiding her through each block of letters.

Julie watched Dana’s concentration, then noticed her friend’s finger pause and slide back up the column, landing on the very ad Julie had answered.

That one! Dana’s eyes sparkled with certainty.

You’re right. How did you know?

Dana tamped down her enthusiasm and looked thoughtful. Because you’ve been talking about having a baby. She shifted her glance from the paper to Julie’s face. Did you give the guy your real name when you wrote to him?

No. I signed it LFC.

Good. What does that stand for?

"Longing for children, which is what I am. I didn’t want to give my name to a stranger."

At least this guy doesn’t beat around the bush. He lays out what he wants, and he’s not gross about it. You’re direct by nature, too, Julie. That’s why you picked this letter. Triumph shone in Dana’s eyes. He says he wants children. You’re shy. Could you go to bed with a guy you haven’t known for a long time?

Dana, he doesn’t say it has to be through intimacy. I can’t imagine sleeping with a stranger, but if we like each other and the commitment is there, I might consider it. You know I’ve been going to look into artificial insemination. Maybe he’d be willing to settle for being a sperm donor. He appears to be straightforward, but there’s no way of telling exactly what he has in mind unless I meet him.

"Julie, all things considered, you’ve led a sheltered life. You haven’t dated enough to know much about men. A meeting might not tell you anything. You’d have to get to know him first. He’ll be in your life for a long time if you have children together."

I’m aware of that, but I think it could work if we’re compatible. He says marriage isn’t an option. She paused. I wonder why?

Maybe he’s already married.

Julie shivered at the distasteful thought. If that’s the case, then it’s a no go. But I’m at least curious enough to find out. You think I was stupid to reply?

Rash... daring, maybe. Not your normal pattern, but not stupid. How will he reach you?

I gave him my phone number.

Aw, Julie. Do you think that was wise? There are a lot of weirdoes in Vancouver. I thought you were supposed to reply with a box number?

I guess I was anxious to get to the crunch if he was interested. Now I’m thinking it wasn’t a smart thing to do. You’re right, he could be a crackpot looking for a thrill.

You can change your number if he is. Just be careful should he call. Normally, he wouldn’t know who you are or where you live, but if he’s a computer geek, he could find out.

Julie began to wonder what had been in her head now that Dana crystallized danger as a major problem.

The ad asks for a photo. Did you send one?

No. Julie heated with embarrassment. I’d hate to think some man I haven’t even met might pass me on the street and recognize me as the woman desperate for his child.

You aren’t desperate, Julie. There are plenty of guys around if you’d just take time to seek them out. You deliberately shut out the male species. I guess that’s what makes you a good scientist: you can stay objective without involving your emotions.

It’s a self-preservation technique I learned long ago. Julie reached across the table and squeezed Dana’s hand. Thanks for not shooting me down. I wish I were more outgoing like you, but I can’t see myself on a permanent basis with any guy I know.

Julie, you’re attractive. You have naturally curly eyelashes and long, sleek eyebrows that I’d die to have. Your evening runs along Stanley Park’s seawall have given you the slim figure most women crave, but you bury it beneath loose-fitting sweat clothes. Dana swept her hand toward Julie’s shapeless garb of the day.

I have a couple of pairs of tight-fitting jeans and a few nice sweaters. I’m not always a slob.

You need to be out in the sun and get more color in your cheeks. If you’d use makeup and pay more attention to the way you dress, guys would herd around you.

Right. Just like the sea lions I research. Julie laughed at the imagery. I’m not interested in the complications of intimacy and you know my views on marriage. Her memory darted into the past for just an instant. Catching her mood in a downhill trek, she whipped her thick, frizzy curls back over her shoulders and scowled. I guess I should have thought it through better. Her shoulders sagged. The chances of finding someone with aspirations similar to mine are zero to nothing. I’m sure I’m capable of raising a child alone, but if this guy works out, it would be ideal to have two loving parents.

Dana motioned in the direction of the paper. But if it doesn’t? This guy would want the baby, too.

Then we’d have to go to court. Julie shrugged. Perhaps I should stick with the clinical route.

This guy’s aversion to marriage would work in your favor if it came to a lawsuit.

Think so? I know there are thousands of single mothers.

Dana shrugged. I wonder why he’s so definite about no marriage.

Maybe he’s not interested in the trappings and confinement of a piece of paper any more than I am. People don’t have to marry nowadays, you know. Don’t you see? I was serious about considering a sperm bank, but I’d like to know something about the personal qualities of the father.

In other words, you plan to meet and study him like one of the sea lions? Dana tried to suppress a giggle, but the impish gleam in her eye couldn’t hide it.

I guess you could say that. Julie frowned. The rancher’s letter had served as a catalyst spurring her toward her dream. She’d been astonished and impressed by her boldness, but now the pendulum had swung the other way, riddling her with doubt. If I see certain unfavorable characteristics inherited in my child, I could work to correct them, don’t you think?

I don’t know anything about bringing up kids. I suppose you could at least try.

I am desperate, Dana. Julie flung her hands in the air. My biological clock is ticking so loud that it echoes in my ears night and day.

I hope this guy is more cooperative and not as smart as the sea lions. They can be difficult when they get bored with experiments and decide to play, instead. Dana’s comment brought a smile to Julie. Enthusiasm in training the aquatic mammals for Julie’s experiments had often disappeared when Dana had borne the brunt of foul-smelling fish breath or a quick snort of water blown on her face.

You think I’m crazy to give this a try?

I’m concerned because you’re important to me. Remember, you’ll be dealing with a species driven by testosterone with highly developed predatory habits. Don’t take any unnecessary chances.

The coffee machine gurgled to a sputtering drip. After pouring two mugs of the brew, Julie sat back down and helped herself to a heaping spoonful of sugar.

Julie, what do you suppose this guy is like? He doesn’t give much information, other than he lives on a ranch. He might only be a hired hand.

Well, it doesn’t make much difference to me what he does for a living. If I decide to take this opportunity, it might only be for a short while.

You mean you don’t intend to stay?

I can’t plan far ahead. There are too many variables. He must be able to support a woman, or he wouldn’t advertise for one. I’m thinking he’s in his mid to late thirties, because of the age restriction, but that could be off. I’ll find out soon enough. Who knows? Granted, the whole idea is iffy. Trying to read between the lines of his letter, she spoke more to herself than to Dana. If he lives in the Interior, it could be in a remote region or else he’s so busy he doesn’t have time to seek out a willing companion.

There’s not much to go on.

This guy really has me curious, Dana.

"He might be ugly to the extent he had to try casting further afield than his home territory," Dana continued, playing the devil’s advocate.

Appearances aren’t important if he has a good heart.

They are when your children could look like him. Dana bolted upright. He might be an axe murderer, Julie!

He wants kids badly, or he wouldn’t be going to such lengths. So do I. Going to a sperm bank seems as impersonal as grocery shopping. Julie blew across the top of her coffee, then sipped it slowly.

She found the shake of Dana’s head discouraging. I don’t think I can afford to wait. You were lucky in your choice for a mate, but for me there is no Mr. Right. I can get enough romance fantasizing in dreamland. It’s safer that way.

Why, Julie, I didn’t know you ever had romantic thoughts. You’ve shattered my illusion of the cool, obsessive scientist I thought you were.

Julie laughed. Give me a break; I’m human, okay? You’re going to be moving out in a few weeks and already I dread it. She waved back another objection from her friend. "Maybe he won’t answer, but it will be kind of exciting waiting to see if he calls. If I meet him and feel uneasy, I’ll take off. I know there are lechers out there, but I’ll give him a chance. I ran away from my life years ago. Now, I have this urge to run to something that will give me purpose and a sense of self-worth beyond my job."

Dana gulped. Her voice softened. Do you know anything about ranching? I hear it’s a lot of work from sunup until sundown.

I’ve never been on a ranch, but I’m good with animals, and I’m not afraid of hard work. It must be glorious deep in the Rockies. Suddenly anxious to get away from the negative aspects Dana had pointed out, she changed the subject. Look, it’s Saturday and hot for mid-September. Let’s walk the beach at English Bay and see how many tankers are anchored today.

Dana sighed with resignation. You’re on.

THE FRONT DOOR OF THE Lazy M ranch house opened and slammed. Cameron Caldwell, foreman, and Jordan McIntyre’s best friend since childhood, called out. Jordan? There’s a stack of letters for ya. Guess shopping for a woman in a newspaper is as good a way as any to have a parade of chicks for your eyes only.

Cam strode quickly to the living room doorway. Hey, Jordan! It won’t be hard weeding out the dogs from the pictures and the dumb ones from their writing. You coulda been more delicate ’bout how you expressed yourself, though. Can’t see why you insisted on putting in the part about no marriage; that’ll most likely turn some off.

Jordan saluted from his easy chair but remained where he was. I wanted to be honest.

Cam groaned. Nestled in a forested bowl of British Columbia’s Rocky Mountains, the ranch was a vital part of their lives. Cam dealt with the bitterness consuming his thirty-eight-year-old boss on a daily basis. The rancor stemmed from the death of Jordan’s wife, who had died under mysterious circumstances three years ago.

Are you coming to the kitchen to open them? Cam asked, a hint of impatience in his voice.

Later, Jordan answered stiffly.

Why put it off? Exasperated, mail in hand, Cam stomped to the kitchen and flung the letters on the table. Three years is more than enough time to put up with Jordan’s bad-tempered mood swings, he muttered under his breath. For a while, Cam had figured the Lazy M was doomed, either from the reputation of its owner or Jordan’s neglect. Hard work should have helped, but Jordan’s pain robbed him of the gentle nature and enthusiasm that had been so much a part of his character since their boyhood days. His sullen personality, hair-trigger temper and lack of direction made Jordan hell to be around. Rather than mellowing with time, it kept getting worse.

Guilt does that to a man, Cam thought. I ought to know. I carry tons of the stuff on my shoulders every day and not one damn thing can I do to dump it. In hope of changing things, Cam had persuaded Jordan to write to the newspaper’s personal column. It hadn’t been easy to convince Jordan that his distrust of women kept him from gaining a better perspective on life. Once he’d advised Jordan that without a special someone there would be no heir to this wondrous patch of mountain territory, his boss—perhaps to keep Cam from harping—agreed to the idea.

Jordan sauntered into the kitchen while Cam raved on, I thought we agreed this was the only way that might work. The rumors scared away all the available women from this area.

HIS HACKLES RISING, Jordan stared out the front window to the mountains beyond. I don’t know why I let you talk me into this. The power of snow-capped beauty could do a lot for his peace of mind, but couldn’t block out his memories. He remembered too well the crash scene and his wife’s broken body as she lay sprawled across the front seat of the mangled red Porsche. Jordan scowled. Marsha knew the shortcut was dangerous. Showed how anxious she was to get away.

A cold shudder raced down Jordan’s spine. He had adjusted to her loss, but it was hard to accept and live with the suspicions of the nearest community. Marsha’s unfaithfulness had been bad enough, but her abandonment of home and any further effort to make the marriage work had destroyed his illusions of happiness. He knew he should make more effort to get his mind away from thinking about her, always wondering...

Jordan, look, you drive yourself day and night to keep from feeling anything. If you keep this up, your anger’ll drive you into the ground.

And that nice guy I used to be got his just deserts, huh? A wife on the lam that ended up dead. The community I’ve lived in all my life looks at me like a murderer was walking in their midst. I like the man I’ve become: wary, reclusive, and free.

You left out lonely.

I didn’t like this idea of yours in the first place, Cam, but we’ll go through the letters and see what we’ve got. Jordan shook his head and shuffled the pile of envelopes. Some were colored in pastels; others reeked of perfume. A sickening blend of unpleasant smells permeated the kitchen making both men sneeze. See, Cam? We’re allergic to women.

Not me. I don’t sneeze around Maggie, she might get sick again.

An hour later, they finished reading, then spread six possibilities on the table. A picture lay on top of each letter. Cam blew out a puff of pent-up air. I would’ve expected to find more than these few from so many, but of course you’re fussy. You only need one that’s suitable and willing. Stretching his arms and legs, a satisfied gleam in his eyes, he leaned back in his chair to watch Jordan’s reaction.

There’s nothing to say any of these would follow through. I don’t think it’s worth the effort. Jordan’s brows gnarled in disgust. I really don’t understand why you were so keen for me to do this.

Believe me, I have reason: your short fuse for one. Don’t chicken out on me now, boss. Let’s take a close look at these six. They’re pretty, and their writing shows they’re definitely interested. Have a little faith! It might work out better than you expect.

Jordan breathed a sigh of disapproval as he levered his chair away. I’d hardly subject cattle to this much scrutiny; I feel real sleazy doing it over a woman. What’s this on the floor? You missed one of the letters. He picked it up and shoved it into Cam’s hand. You open it. I’m tired of the whole damn idea.

Jordan walked to the woodstove, stoking the embers while Cam opened the plain white envelope and scanned the contents. He followed Jordan. This one doesn’t have a picture included. Ha! She’s got a dilly of an excuse: she writes that this is too important to relegate to a beauty contest. She says if you’re looking for a raving beauty, she’s not it. I bet not. Probably a real ugly dog.

Let me see the letter. I agree with her and I appreciate her honesty. Jordan sat down, reading the letter slowly, finally sniffing it to see if any scent had been sprinkled to lure his interest. No. Only the faint pulp scent of the notepaper drifted into his nose.

Cam scoffed at his boss’s extra attention to this particular letter. She sounds too independent, trying to call the shots like Marsha— He shut his mouth quickly when he met Jordan’s icy glare.

Maybe so, but she’s right. Let’s face it; we ditched a lot of these letters because the photos weren’t appealing or the writing stunk. That wasn’t fair to the applicants. He slipped the letter into his top desk drawer. I think this writer is being open and cutting to the chase by giving her phone number. The others gave a box number.

Sounds like she’s just plain stupid to me. Doesn’t she know what kind of creeps might read this? Are you gonna call her?

I think I might. She’s intrigued me already. I’ll contact the others by mail and get their telephone numbers, too, then take a trip to Vancouver and interview each woman. Hopefully, I can settle this once and for all. If nothing else, turning them all down for one reason or another ought to stop you from hounding me. This is a one-shot deal, Cam.

Jordan retraced his steps to the window and stared down at the barns and corrals that edged the clearing. His modest log cabin, braced as it was against a heavy growth of heavy mountain forest, allowed him to admire the land that had been in his family for generations.

You know, this ranch served the needs of my grandfather, father, then me, but it takes time and hard work to make a go of it in today’s world. His pride in the place made him stand a little taller. I really do want to pass this piece of heaven to my child. I want the McIntyre name stamped forever on this property.

Two

Three weeks passed and with no response to her letter, Julie’s anxiety disappeared. Obviously, the jerk whose ad she had answered considered looks important. She busied herself going about her daily routine, vowing never to answer a public plea again.

Work had been grueling today. The sea lions refused to cooperate in the mating ritual. Tracking heart rhythms during all of the activities of a selected pair was part of her research. The lack of interest of the female had increased Julie’s frustration level. She and I must share the same opinions on males.

The oppressive rain clouds darkened not only the sky but also her mood. As she labored up the steep flight to her landing, she heard the shrill ring of the phone. Struggling to unlock the door, she hoped it was Dana with a suggestion for a special evening activity.

Hel-lo? She panted from the rush to lift the receiver before the caller gave up. Who did you say you wanted? Oh! Yes, this is... ah, LFC... Yes, I’m still interested. Yes, I can meet you there at ten o’clock, tomorrow. Tall... dark hair... wearing a cream-colored Stetson... all right. Thank you for calling, Mr. McIntyre. Goodbye.

Julie’s heart raced as she sprinted up to the third floor two steps at a time.

Dana opened the door at the first sound of the buzzer, her mouth and eyes wide-open. Whoa, there! What’s got you so excited? Don’t tell me. You’ve had a phone call from that guy who put the ad in the paper?

You’re so perceptive, Dana. Yes, he called. His name is Jordan McIntyre... gorgeous voice like Mel Gibson... wants me to meet him tomorrow morning at a restaurant over by the airport. I was so shocked, I couldn’t think of any questions to ask.

Come in, and tell me about it.

Julie hurried into the living room and plunked down on the sofa, drawing her legs underneath her.

Tell me exactly what he said.

We only spoke a few seconds to set up the meeting. He agreed we would be more at ease in a public place. As an afterthought, she added, And Dana, he said he was intrigued by the lack of a photo. Julie’s insides glowed with the justification of her cheeky decision not to send a picture. What do I do now?

Dana sat down beside her. I think you’d better calm down. This guy will be no Brad Pitt—probably more like Fred Flintstone. You’ll have to control the interview if you meet with him. Hey! Don’t let your eyes glaze over, now. Listen to me. You know nothing about him or his history. I told you there are dangerous guys out there.

I’ve decided to see him anyway, but I won’t give out more information than necessary.

"Why don’t I go and sit at another table in case he