The Billionaire’s Risky Pregnancy

Chapter 3

Tasha couldn’t sleep. Every time she turned her body against the mattress and punched the pillow, the face of Smith  Heller kept appearing before her eyes. Would be such pretty eyes if the rest of his face didn’t look so smug. She tossed and turned for what felt like hours before her eyes finally turned to the clock on her bedside table.

2:37.

The only thing that would be open now was the Quik Mart that was too far down the road to contemplate. But hadn’t she… she thought that she remembered a flimsy banner crossing the doorway of Schroeder’s Grocery just at the bottom on the hill. She could make her way on foot if she was that brave. But her car beckoned, and Tasha just avoided a skunk on its way to feast on the trash overflowing from the dumpster. Turning the key in the ignition, she took off and listed what she needed most in her mind.

Paper towels. Toothpaste. Ketchup. A few bags of salad.

With the aisles so wide and nothing and no one blocking her way, Tasha grew bolder and started filling up her basket with the sorts of things that she wouldn’t dare select if prying eyes were one her.

Sour cream fries. Hungry Man dinners. Tubes upon tubes of cookie dough.

Tasha put the point on the impeding heart attack with two boxes of linguini and a jumbo sized jar of Ragu. Ticking off the minutes in her mind that would take to the boil the water, strain the pasta and completely pig out, she turned down the next aisle and was more than ready to check out when she slammed into a broad chest and would have slipped to the empty tiles were it not for a strong hand that caught her arm and held her in place.

“You should really watch where you’re… oh hello there!”

Smith Heller. Did the man have spies on her? She tried to shrug him off when he tightened his hold and pressed his fingers into her arm.

“What brings you out at all hours?” he asked.

“I could say the same thing for you,” Tasha sniped. “Thought you’d have a personal shopper or something.”

“Are you applying for the job?” He smirked at the contents of her basket, and she tried to hide the red pail behind her back when he lifted his head over hers and released a light whistle.

“Looks like you’re getting ready for some kind of party,” he said. “How do I get an invite?”

“Very funny,” she said. “Got no cans of caviar in here.” Smith made a face and shook his head.

“So not my speed,” he said. “And just so you know, you couldn’t find it ready for the microwave even if you tried.” He fingered the edge of her box of loaded French Fries, and Tasha wanted to smack him upside the head with the entire basked when he caught hold of her arm and revealed his own wares.

“That’s a lot of frozen pizza,” she said. “Who are you trying to cook for?”

“Got me there,” he said as he blushed. He looked younger when his cheeks turned pink, and Tasha felt some of her anger ebb as he pointed to the pasta and the Ragu. “We could make a beautiful dinner together.”

“Thank you but no,” she said. “I prefer to eat on my own.” Again she tried to leave him when his fingers slid down her arm and took hold of her hand. Tasha wondered how such long fingers could stay so slender if he was planning to gorge on frozen pepperoni and sausage. She didn’t care to find out and made her way to the only checkout lane that still had a light on. Starting to empty her basked on an unmoving conveyor belt, she tapped her fingers to the bordering metal when Smith Heller was on her once again.

“Guess you’re pretty pissed at me,” he said.

“I’m not thinking about you one way or the other,” she said.

“Sure you are,” he said. “We were having a lot of fun before you got wise.”

Tasha let the empty basket fall from her hands and didn’t care that it hit his foot as he laughed and feigned a limp.

“Careful,” he cautioned. “You wouldn’t want to hurt me.”

“That remains to be seen.” Turning away from him, Tasha was glad at the sight of the cashier. He was a little man with a bald head and beady eyes that looked so much larger on account of his glasses. He started to ring up her purchases and stopped short at the second tube of cookie dough.

“Um… you know that you can get one more at half price,” he said.

“Lucky for you,” Smith chuckled. She started to wave the man with a cry that it was fine when Smith stood taller and started to slip away from her.

“Hold up,” he said. “Bet I can make it back in less than a minute.” He took off at a breakneck speed, and Tasha had to marvel at his long legs kicking up. He passed an empty table that was just waiting for the next day’s special before he disappeared from her view.

“Your boyfriend sure is fast on his feet,” the cashier said.

“He is not my boyfriend,” Tasha corrected the bald man. The cashier started to stumble over his words when she laid her hand over his.

“Easy mistake,” she said. “Can you just work fast and get me out of here?”

The cashier went to work, and Tasha’s bags were nearly full when Smith reappeared without having broken so much as a sweat.

“To add to your deal,” he said as he plopped the third tube of cookie dough on the belt. The cashier hesitated for a second until Tasha nodded and started to reach into her wallet to pay her way out.

“Don’t I even get a thank you?” Smith asked. His green eyes sparkled under the fluorescent lights. She grumbled her gratitude and didn’t wait for her change as he called after her. “Pizza and pasta. It just makes sense.”

Talking to him for one more moment did not. She walked back to her car and never looked over her shoulder when another man in a long coat caught her arm and caused her bag to fall to the pavement.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

“Why are you in such a hurry to get someplace else?” The man did not wait for an answer and backed her closer to her car. Didn’t she have some mace in her purse? Tasha tried to get her fingers around the can when the stranger beat her to the punch and found her keys.

“It is kind of cold out here,” he said. “Bet we’d be a lot happier inside.” He started to push her into the backseat. Tasha kept struggling, and she suddenly played dead as the man laughed.

“That’s good,” he said. “Don’t fight it.”

She was ready for what would come next and kicked up between his legs.

“Jesus Christ!” Tasha started to move over the seats in search of the steering wheel when she remembered that she needed her keys.

“Fuck.”