Jamie stared down at Lenora’s hand resting on top of hers-a beautiful hand with long, tapered fingers. It felt nice to be touched by another human being.

She had slept in her car last night because she had no cash and didn’t dare try to use one of her maxed-out credit cards for a motel room. Every time she thought about her credit-card debt, she felt as though she were sinking in a sea of quicksand. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had her car serviced, and she desperately wanted to put a headstone on her grandmother’s grave. Such thoughts made the decision seem like a no-brainer.

Lenora picked up a menu. “I recommend the poached salmon and steamed vegetables if you’re counting calories and the fried catfish and hush puppies if you aren’t. And save some room for dessert.”

After a visit to a nail salon, they followed a bellhop carrying Jamie’s one small suitcase to her fourth-floor room.

“Oh, my,” Jamie gasped as she took in the huge bed and elegant decor. “What a beautiful room.”

Lenora tipped the bellman, ordered coffee from room service, then took the contract from her briefcase and placed it on the round table in front of the window. “Might as well get this over with,” she said.

At times the legalese seemed incomprehensible, but Lenora was patient and explained every clause thoroughly. The document attempted to cover every possible contingency, but at its core things were pretty much as Mr. Abernathy had explained in his office.

“I want to emphasize that if you violate any terms of this contract, you will be liable for every cent of the money you have been paid for your services,” Lenora said as she put the contract back in her briefcase. “And I can’t stress strongly enough how serious these clients are about the privacy issue. If you sign this contract, you must never reveal any information about it or the couple’s identity to anyone. You must not even hint to anyone where you are going and what you are doing. You cannot have visitors or contact anyone in the outside world while you are living at the ranch, which means you will not be allowed to make phone calls or have access to a computer. If there’s anyone who will be alarmed by your disappearance, you need to think of a cover story and inform them you will be studying abroad or volunteering in a Third World country or something of the sort. You must make sure that no one will be reporting you to the police as a missing person or hiring a private detective to track you down.”

“I’m pretty much alone in the world at this point in my life, so I can’t imagine anything like that happening,” Jamie said. “But isn’t all that a little excessive?”

“It may seem so to you or me, but I am sure the clients have their reasons. You have to understand that privacy is often a major issue with the very rich. I’m sure these particular rich people worry about someone learning the identity of the child’s biological mother and somehow exploiting that information,” Lenora said as she leaned back in her chair.

“But if I do enter into a contract with ‘the clients,’ I’ll need some sort of address in order to open a bank account, and I’d like to enroll in a correspondence course,” Jamie pointed out.

“With your banking needs in mind, the clients plan to rent a post-office box for you here in Austin and have your mail forwarded to the ranch by a third party.”

“That sounds like something out of a spy movie,” Jamie said in disbelief.

“Perhaps,” Lenora allowed. “But I think these people just want to be very, very careful. They are investing a lot of money and a world of emotion into this project. They want to do everything within their power to assure its success. I can’t imagine them objecting to your enrolling in a correspondence course, but just to be sure I’ll have Bentley mention it to them. Now, do you have any other questions?”

Jamie shook her head. “No, you’ve made everything quite clear. You should go to law school.”

“I already do. Three nights a week, thanks to Bentley Abernathy’s encouragement and financial backing. In two more years, provided I pass the bar, I will become his partner.” Lenora leaned back in her chair. “So, tell me, Jamie Long, should I arrange for you to have a physical examination tomorrow?”

“Can you do that on such short notice?”

Lenora nodded. “You might as well go ahead and have the exam. The office will pay for it-and bill it to the clients, of course. Then, if you’re certified healthy, you’ll be examined by the fertility specialist who will be doing the insemination procedure. If you get the nod from her, I’ll arrange for you to meet the clients. There won’t be any contract signing until everyone is in agreement. In the meantime, you can stay here in the hotel and charge food and sundries to the room until all parties have made up their minds. If I were you, I’d enjoy a bit of luxury and not stew over things until all the cards are on the table. So what do you think? Should I schedule the exam?”

Jamie nodded.

Lenora reached for the phone and made arrangements for Jamie’s physical examination, reading a long list of medical tests that she was to undergo. At the conclusion of the call, she closed her briefcase and stood. “I’ll pick you up in the morning at nine,” she told Jamie.

Jamie was sorry to see her leave, sorry to be alone again.

After eating a solitary meal in her room, she undressed and took a long hot bath in the luxurious bathroom. And tried to do what Lenora had suggested-not think about it until all considerations were known.

When she got out of the tub, Jamie looked at her body in the mirror and tried to imagine herself pregnant. Then she tried to look at her body through the eyes of another person. A man. Would he find her pleasing? Would he want to make love to her?

Maybe after she had the hundred-thousand-dollar baby she would be flabby and have stretch marks. Maybe her breasts would droop.

But just the thought of a man looking at her naked body made her feel flushed and light-headed. She touched her breasts and felt warm, mysterious stirrings deep inside her belly. It felt as though her body were waiting for something. Not a baby. Something else altogether.

In this day and age, it was almost weird to be a virgin at age twenty. But that was what she was. A virgin who was willing to rent out her womb to the highest bidder. Who was about to sell a year of her life because she was poor and tired-so tired, with a weariness that seemed to flow through her veins and sap her very soul.

LENORA ENTERED BENTLEY’S office carrying two cups of coffee. She handed him one and seated herself on the sofa.

“How did it go this morning?” he asked.

“We don’t have the results of the lab tests yet, but the doctor found no problems during Jamie’s physical examination. In fact, he said she seems exceptionally healthy. I’ve scheduled an appointment with the fertility specialist for tomorrow afternoon.”

Lenora paused and took a sip of coffee before adding, “She’s a virgin.”

Bentley digested this last fact. Somehow he would have preferred otherwise, although he would be hard-pressed to explain why. Amanda Hartmann originally had insisted the surrogate be “chaste.” Bentley had pointed out that such a requirement would severely limit the pool of possible candidates since most young women were sexually active by the time they were old enough to enter into a surrogate-mother arrangement, but it was her husband Toby who had convinced Amanda to keep an open mind. “Every baby is born pure in the eyes of our Lord,” he assured his wife. “And we have entered into a special covenant with Him. It is Him we serve.”

Amanda touched her husband’s face. “Sometimes the disciple teaches the master,” she had said with an adoring smile.