The Billionaire’s Risky Pregnancy

“I’ll take care of it,” he promised. “Can I see you again? Tonight? For dinner?” She hated the idea that he was going. And she had better ways to spend her time.

But the thought of seeing him again…

“I think I would like that,” Tasha said. “Let’s make it happen.”

“One rule,” he said.

“Yes?” She swallowed hard and felt her soul start to empty as he stepped back into his shoes. His eyes scanned the room for his jacket, and she laid eyes on it first. “Here.”

Sliding his arms into the charcoal gray sleeves, she let her fingers trail down his frame and felt him hold his breath before he turned on his heel to face her.

“No shop talk,” he said. “Do I have your word on that?”

“We really haven’t tonight… today. Have we?” His smile was soft as he placed a light kiss on her cheek.

“You’re right about that,” he said. “So here’s to not ruining a good thing.” Smith held out his hand as if he was sealing a business deal. It was cold and vaguely condescending. But the urge to touch him again trumped any anger, and they shook on the plan as he buttoned his jacket and stayed in her eyes for one second longer.

“I’ll see you tonight then,” he said. “We’ll have a good time.”

With that he was gone, and Tasha’s mind burst with possibilities as she flopped to her bed and hugged a pillow close. What did he have up his sleeve? Was it going to be some grand romantic gesture? She wondered if it was wise to trust the sudden feelings swirling around her heart. One unexpected almost sleepover did not change everything that he was and what he wanted to do.

But she batted those fears back and slipped into a dream where his face loomed large and she imagined what his hand would feel like as soon as it was back in hers.

*****

“So now you’re dating the enemy? How exactly did that happen?”

Tasha groaned into her phone as she rifled through her closet.

“It’s just dinner, George,” she said. “Who’s to say I’m not just pumping him for more information?”

“Because your voice is up three octaves,” he said. “Never heard it that high before.”

“Can’t I just be happy?” she said. “Is that a crime?”

“Last night you were ready to take the man down,” George said. “How did it all change so fast?”

“It’s… it’s no big thing.” Tasha said. “And if you’re not going to give me fashion advice, I’ll figure this out on my own.”

In the end, she opted for a peach dress with tea half sleeves and a pair of strappy sandals. The  night was still warm enough to go without a jacket or a shawl, but as soon she answered his knock on her door, her entire body shivered.

“Hey there,” he said. “Don’t you look amazing.”

“I could say the same thing about you.” Words did not do his charcoal suit and vest with a light blue tie just poking out from underneath justice. Her tongue tied around the rest of any compliment, and Smith pulled her close as he shut the door behind her.

“So we’ll make for a nice looking couple,” he said. “You ready to have some fun?” Nodding her head as he led her to his car, she slid into the leather seat and buckled up as he moved behind the wheel and patted her arm.

“I’ve made two reservations,” he started.

“Are we pulling an all-nighter again?” she asked. He playfully slapped her thigh and just lifted her eyes when his hands were back on the wheel.

“Just wanted to give you some choices,” he said. “There’s a new Vietnamese place that we could try out.”

“Healthy,” she admitted. “Hardly and dairy or oil.”

“And then there’s the Mexican place on—”

“Oh please let’s do that!” She hardly realized how excited she sounded until the words poured out of her mouth, and he smiled wide as he whipped the car in an illegal U-turn. Horns blared, but Smith paid them no mind as he set off down the other side of the road.

“Nice,” he said. “Could do with some nachos.”

“Nachos?” she challenged. “If I got all dolled up, you are getting me an entrée.”

“Any thoughts?” he asked.

“Lots.” Tasha liked to see him laugh, and he parked before the tiny restaurant in the worst possible location. A local highway ran across the façade, and a busy train track rested just beyond the four way intersection that curled instead of forming right angles. But they weren’t here for the scenery.

It was all about the food.

“You come here often,” he asked.

“You don’t?”

“Miss Finn, I usually don’t have the time,” he said. Pausing in the parking lot as the train raced by, she turned to face him with anger in her eyes.

“If I’m cramping your style, then you can take me home right now.” She was ready for a fight right there out in the open when he laughed and wrapped one arm around her shoulders.

“Tonight I’m your servant,” he said. “You lead the way and I will not object.” Tasha relaxed and trailed her fingers down his arm until she had his hand.

“Trust me,” she said. “You will not be disappointed.”

They entered the restaurant to find it already crowded, and Tasha wondered if they might have done better with his first choice in cuisine when a host in a black vest dragged them off and Smith pressed a fifty dollar bill into the man’s hand.

“Yes, sir!” the host ushered them towards a corner table and pulled a screen around them so they could have some privacy. She ordered the tequila chicken with watermelon salsa. And Smith still went for the nachos.

“Guess when your mind’s made up you don’t shift gears,” Tasha said as she sipped a margarita and he pulled on a corona with the lime bobbing in the bottle neck.

“When it comes to most things,” he said. “I’m a man that gets my way.”

“So sure of yourself,” she said. “Anyone ever say no to you?” His face started to fall, but he recovered just as fast and flashed his bright smile.

“You didn’t,” he said.

“After like ten tries,” she teased.

“So call this lucky number eleven.” They talked in between bites, and when the lure of his nachos was too much to pass up, he played keep away with his plate.

“Not so fast, Miss Finn; you turned your nose up at my choice in cuisine.”

“Be nice,” she chided. “I’ll let you have a bite of my chicken if you’ll share.” Spearing the meat with her fork, she pressed it towards it lips and felt a small tingle when he bit down and chewed slowly.

“You like?” she asked.

“It was a good choice,” he said. “Smart girl.” Accepting the compliment with a blush, she passed on the offer of dessert or another round of drinks.

“Are we calling it a night?” he asked with a small sound of fear in his voice. Reaching over the table to take his hand, Tasha shook her head and lowered her eyelids.

“I… I mean you’ve seen my place,” she said. “Do I get a peek at where you hang your hat?” Smith pounced on the question and left a large tip as they raced into the night.