The Alpha's Baby (7 page)

"I don't know your last name either," she pointed out.

"It's Black," he said.

"Well, Sebastian Black, nice to meet you." She stuck out her hand.

The man took her hand and shook it. "Nice to meet you too. Now let's have a baby together."

****

An hour later, Emmy walked side by side with Sebastian as they headed to a steak restaurant. She glanced at the man beside her, noticing the way his hair curled over his gorgeous forehead. She took a moment to picture what their baby might look like. It was easy to imagine pale, tiny fingers curling around her hand. As she experienced the first bought of excitement since she became pregnant, she smiled.

Sebastian studied her expression. "Finally, you're smiling."

"You sound relieved."

"Back in the apartment, you spent half our conversation looking as though you were about to cry," he said.

"Well, you know learning that you're pregnant isn't exactly stress-free," she said.

"I know exactly what you mean," he said drily.

Both of them fell silent. The quiet between them was strange after the conversation filled night back at his apartment. She searched her mind, trying to think of something to say. Instead of coming up with anything witty, all she could think was,
blah, blah, blah.
She didn't normally have to play hide-and-seek with the words in her head. Her lack of speaking ability was horrifying.

"How about we play a game," Sebastian said, rescuing her from remaining forever mute.

She wasn't much in the mood for games. "What?"

"I ask a question and you answer me yes or no," he said. "How does that sound?"

"Sounds silly."

"It's a good way to get to know each other." The man elbowed her, grinning.

Somehow his grin was infectious. She found herself smiling too in spite of herself.

"Oh, all right." She rolled her eyes. "Are you asking the questions or am I?"

He shrugged. "I'll start, since I have some things I want to ask."

"I'm sensing an ulterior motive here…" she muttered under her breath.

"Doesn't almost everyone have an ulterior motive?" He studied her expectantly.

A can was lying on the side of the road. She kicked it. "Feeling philosophical tonight, are we?"

"I'm always philosophical."

She groaned. "Fine. I guess you're right. Almost everyone has an ulterior motive."

He smirked. "I'm always right too."

"Ha-ha." Rolling her eyes, she elbowed him in the ribs.

Finally, the pregnancy-induced awkwardness faded. She thought that should have been added to the list of side effects of being pregnant: nausea, vomiting, swelling, sore nipples, awkwardness around the father of baby.

"Okay, now here's my first question," he said. "Do you like children?"

"Yes."

"Are you at least a little excited about the baby?"

She considered it. "Yes."

"Do you like sports?" he asked.

"Some." Wait, it had to be yes or no. "No, I guess not."

"Disappointing." He grinned, but moved on. "How about video games? Do you like them?"

"No."

"Sitcoms?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Do you want more than one child?"

She imagined holding the hand of a little boy and girl. It was a dream she'd never even thought about until that moment. "Surprisingly, yes."

"Is dessert better than the meal?"

"Yes." She was a chocoholic.

The questions continued for some time until she was practically dizzy.

Finally, he said, "Do you regret sleeping with me that night?"

Before she even thought about it, her answer slipped out. "No."

She stopped walking, stunned by her own reply. Even after getting pregnant, she didn't regret sleeping with Sebastian. She didn't believe it, and yet she did at the same time.

"I'm glad." He took her hand and steered her to face him. "I don't regret what happened between us either."

When she looked up at him, she blinked in shock. "But I'm pregnant because of that night."

"Yeah, I think that's something engrained in both of our minds by now." The man was grinning, despite everything.

As she stared into his face, Sebastian placed his hands on her shoulders. His gaze dropped to her lips. At that moment, she realized he was going to kiss her. She was alarmed and a little pleased. The truth of the matter was that she'd been thinking about his mouth a lot since they'd slept together—sucking on them, licking them, feeling them roving against hers. The man bent his head, and she felt his hot breath against her cheek. When his lips swooped down to capture hers, she squeezed her eyes shut as her breath left her body in a quick gasp. His fingers tangled in her hair, and he drew her closer against him, grinding his hips against hers. She could feel his hard shaft burrowing in her soft lower stomach and she shivered. His fingers burrowed in her hair, and a moment later, he pulled back, leaving her lips hot and tingly.

She swayed against him, her brain a puddle of mush. "Wow."

"There's a lot more where that came from, sweetheart," Sebastian whispered in her ear.

His lips captured hers again. Her knees turned to water in his embrace, and if he had not been holding onto her, she was certain that she would have fallen over. Just as his lips left hers and his mouth strayed down to her neck where a vein throbbed desperately, she saw something dark out of the corner of her eye.

"Wait," she said as she spotted a man in the distance.

He kissed her neck. "I don't want to wait. I've been dreaming about kissing you for a month
."

Unfortunately, she could no longer focus on his lips running sensuously over her skin. Her attention was on the tall man standing between two trees. The man's hair was brown but threaded with gray. He looked to be in his midfifties, yet he was so attractive that she was certain young women fell at his feet. Yet when she met his chocolate-colored eyes, all she experienced was a rush of fear that made her whole body stiffen. She didn't know that person, and yet all she wanted to do was run and hide.

"Okay, this isn't the reaction I was hoping to get from you." Sebastian stepped away from her, yet his hands still lingered on her waist.

She bit her bottom lip. "There was a man watching us."

"Good to know it wasn't my subpar kissing skills that led to the lack of interest," he muttered.

"Sebastian!" She wrinkled her nose.

Finally, Sebastian took her seriously and turned in the direction she was looking. There was only one problem.

"He's gone," she whispered.

"Are you sure there was somebody there?"

"Dead sure." She chewed her bottom lip. 

Sebastian glanced at her warily.

"Let's just go." She seized his arm when he didn't say anything. "I'm hungry. It's been a hell of a day, and if I don't eat an entire plate of fries, I'm going to go insane."

He allowed her to drag him, but he kept looking over his shoulder.

"I shouldn't have said anything." She shook her head. "It was nothing."

"If you say so," he said.

"You
were
making a scene." She sighed in exasperation. "It's not that surprising that a guy was looking at us."

"I was making a scene?" His grin finally reappeared. "I believe it takes two people to kiss, sweetheart."

Her cheek colored. "Well, I was just trying not to hurt your feelings."

"Sure you were." The man threw back his head and laughed.

****

Mary Lou looked at her as if she was nuts. And not just a little nuts. No, the woman looked at her as if she deserved an all-inclusive pass for Crazy Land. As Emmy placed two cups of coffee on the kitchen table, Mary Lou groaned.

"When the father of your child asks to marry you, you say yes." Mary Lou looked five seconds from ripping out her own hair. "You don't tell him you'll think about it."

Emmy stared at her, flabbergasted. "You want me to marry a man that I hardly know?"

"In order to make a baby, you have to know a man somewhat," Mary Lou said.

"That's physical." Emmy was mortified the older woman was even thinking about
that
. "I want to know who Sebastian is on the inside. I don't know what he was like as a child, who his parents are, or what is favorite color is. He's practically a stranger to me."

"Can't you figure all that out once you get married?" Mary Lou raised an eyebrow.

"I want to make sure I'm not marrying a kleptomaniac," she said.

"You think he steals?"

"He could," she said. "Or he could light things on fire."

"Or he could have a sex addiction."

"Maybe he has a really bad jealous streak." She sunk into a chair. "You know, like in all of those scary movies."

"Or he could be a woman beater."

"True." Though that one she doubted. "Or he could have a weird attraction to Miley Cyrus's tongue."

Mary Lou gasped. "Why do you always have to take things too far, Emmy? Because of you, I'm going to have nightmares tonight. I get the heebie-jeebies just thinking about Miley Cyrus."

Both of them shivered.

"We really need to stop listing worst-case scenarios." She wrapped her hand around the handle of her coffee mug. "Now I'm all creeped out. What if Sebastian is a jealous kleptomaniac with a sex addiction? If I married him, my life would be ruined."

"First off, it's fun to list worst-case scenarios," Mary Lou pointed out. "And secondly, I've never met the guy, but I'm ninety-nine percent sure that he isn't a jealous kleptomaniac who…who…Damn, there's too much to remember. But I'm certain that he's not any of those things you just said."

She drummed her fingers on the table. "How can you be so certain that he's not a nut if you haven't even laid eyes on the guy?"

"Because you chose him," Mary Lou said.

The words stopped her in her tracks. "Excuse me?"

"You chose to sleep with him, didn't you?"

Great, now she was going red again. "Yeah."

"And you must like him quite a bit in order to jump into bed with him, right?" Mary Lou said.

"I was drunk," she said.

"I've seen you drunk." Mary Lou scrutinized her. "Your IQ may drop a few points, but you don't jump into bed with the first man who smiles at you."

"I suppose you're right." Sebastian was special.

"Of course I'm right." Mary Lou tutted. "Don't you know? I'm
always
right."

"You know what, you and Sebastian sound a lot alike," she muttered.

"I'm starting to like this man more and more." Mary Lou grinned wickedly. "Of course, he would be more endearing to me if he'd bagged his boomstick before putting it in you."

"Mary Lou…" She clapped her hand to her forehead.

"Well, it's the truth, isn't it?" Mary Lou batted her eyes. "I don't care if a woman has a steel trap inside of her vagina. A man should always be kind enough to put foil on his egg roll."

Groaning, she laid her head on the table. "You have such an endearing way of speaking."

"What's wrong with saying 'put foil on his egg roll'?" Mary Lou asked.

"I'd prefer not to think of any food products entering my body, thank you very much." Still she was grinning as she said the words.

Mary Lou's eyes held a mischievous glint. "So I suppose you wouldn't like it if I said that Sebastian needed to put a blank in his meat gun?"

"Ew." She wrinkled her nose.

"How about, he should have saran wrapped the schnitzel?"

She flexed her fingers. "One more euphemism and I might just murder you."

"Sheath the Excalibur?" Mary Lou winked. Twice.

"No more."

"You're such a party pooper," Mary Lou said. "It's a wonder he even whipped out his drumstick to begin with."

"Mary Lou!"

Emmy was sitting beneath a tree on a blanket, stretching out her legs. A girl that looked no older than eight stood in front of her in a white dress. The girl's hair was in pigtails, and her gray eyes were bright behind her thick eyelashes. Emmy reached out, and the girl came tumbling into her arms.

"Mommy," the girl said.

As the little girl wrapped her arms around her neck, Emmy stared deep into her daughter's eyes—and then realized, to her horror, that she couldn't breathe.

Emmy sucked in air, trying to get her lungs in working order. Why wasn't she breathing? Was her child choking her? No, wait, that wasn't possible. She was still pregnant. Then what about the baby inside her? If she couldn't breathe now, then maybe there was something wrong with her baby. As she began to panic, her eyes flew open.

And she realized that she was in bed with a sheet wrapped around her throat like shed snakeskin. Somewhere in the distance, her alarm blared. She blinked, then laid eyes on her clock. Holy shit, she was going to be late for work. There were croissants to be made, cakes to be baked, and frosting to be mixed. The last time she'd left all of the morning preparations to Donavon, the early morning cook in training, he'd gotten the salt and sugar mixed up and she'd received a hysterical call from her sales clerk at eight a.m.

She climbed out of bed, though
fell
may have been a more appropriate term, and scrambled into the bathroom. After she managed to wrestle her blond hair into a ponytail—her hair had always been thicker than the ill-tasting custard Donavon had prepared—she put on her work uniform and rushed out the door as fast as her legs could carry her. She scrambled into the car and then drove to work, testing the limits of the engine.

By the time she reached the bakery, Donavon's car was already parked outside.

"Shit," she said, wondering how many éclairs he'd filled with salty custard that quite honestly tasted like cum. 

She rushed inside and inhaled the sweet aroma of baking bread that she'd loved since childhood. Unfortunately, that was the moment when a wave of nausea crashed over her, stopping her in her tracks. Puke crawled up her throat just as twenty-four-year-old Donavon came out of the kitchen and smiled.