There are three little words most guys don’t want to hear on the first date. Not those…I mean these… “knock me up.”
This single gal has had enough of the games, the BS and the endless chase. I know what I want most, and it’s not true love. It’s a bun in the oven, and I’m not afraid to hit up my sex-on-a-stick co-worker to do the job. Ryder is gorgeous, witty and charming — and he’s also a notorious commitment-phobe. That makes him the perfect candidate to make a deposit in the bank of me.
I won’t fall for him, he won’t fall for me, and there’s no way baby will make three.
Right?
****
There are four words every guy wants to hear on the first date — “your place or mine?”
When my hot-as-sin co-worker makes me a no-strings-attached offer that involves her place, my place, any place — as well as any position — I can’t refuse. Besides, I've got my own reasons to take her up on her deal even with her one BIG condition.
There’s no way I’ll want more from one woman than any position, any where, any night? Except . . . what if I do?
This single gal has had enough of the games, the BS and the endless chase. I know what I want most, and it’s not true love. It’s a bun in the oven, and I’m not afraid to hit up my sex-on-a-stick co-worker to do the job. Ryder is gorgeous, witty and charming — and he’s also a notorious commitment-phobe. That makes him the perfect candidate to make a deposit in the bank of me.
I won’t fall for him, he won’t fall for me, and there’s no way baby will make three.
Right?
****
There are four words every guy wants to hear on the first date — “your place or mine?”
When my hot-as-sin co-worker makes me a no-strings-attached offer that involves her place, my place, any place — as well as any position — I can’t refuse. Besides, I've got my own reasons to take her up on her deal even with her one BIG condition.
There’s no way I’ll want more from one woman than any position, any where, any night? Except . . . what if I do?
Yanking open the door, I head
inside. I stride to the small cafe where Ryder said he’d wait for me.
My chest falls. The man is
known for punctuality. I scan the white bakery case and the five round iron
tables, but he’s not here. When I spin around and survey the bookshelves, my
heart nearly leaps from my chest.
He’s in the . . .
Oh my fucking God, he’s
waiting for me in the . . .
I bring my hand to my mouth,
and I want to run, to leap into his arms. When he sees me, his blue eyes
twinkle with mischief.
I am a teapot about to
whistle. I am a dog dancing before dinnertime.
He taps the shelves and holds
up a book.
A pregnancy guide.
He’s ten feet from me. But I
sprint anyway, and I grin like a fool. I stop two inches from him and clamp my
hands on his broad shoulders. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes—”
I tackle-hug him before he can
say anything more. I knock the breath from him in an oomph as I rope my arms
around his neck and crash into him.
“But I have one condition,” he
says, embracing me back.
I’m crying tears of happiness,
so I don’t care. “Anything. Name it.”
“You better hear it before you
agree.”
The moment screeches to a
halt. He’s going to want visitation rights. He’ll want lots of money. He’ll
want summers, or weekends, or evenings out.
I unwrap myself from the
warmth of his strong chest and swallow. “What’s your condition?”
“I thought it would be best to
present it in the form of a column.”
“A column?”
“Top five list and
everything.”
I groan inside. He has five
conditions? Maybe my mother was right. Maybe asking for baby-mix from someone
you know is a big mistake. Anonymous donors request nothing but greenbacks.
I steel myself as he fishes in
the back pocket of his jeans. The paper is square, folded in quarters. He hands
it to me. “Open it.”
I unfold it then read the
headline out loud. “‘Top Five Positions for Getting a Woman Pregnant’?”
I blink and stare at him. The
cogs turn slowly in my brain. I part my lips to speak.
He raises a hand to silence
me. “Hear me out. You explained how it worked. The room, the cup, the
magazines, the videos. The whacking off in a fucking public place. The cost.
But most of all . . . the wait.
You’d have to wait for an appointment for me, for the testing, for the jerking
off, then for your special date with the turkey baster.” He cups my cheek. His
hand is big and warm. “What if we did it the
old-fashioned way?”
About Lauren Blakely:
A #1 New York Times Bestselling author, Lauren Blakely is
known for her contemporary romance style that's hot, sweet and sexy. She lives
in California with her family and has plotted entire novels while walking her
dogs. With fourteen New York Times bestsellers, her titles have appeared on the
New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestseller Lists more than
eighty times, and she's sold more than 2 million books. In June she'll release
THE KNOCKED UP PLAN, a standalone contemporary romance. To receive an email
when Lauren releases a new book, sign up for her newsletter! laurenblakely.com/newsletter
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