The Alpha's Baby

Free The Alpha's Baby by M.E. James

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Authors: M.E. James
as I can," he said. "You can't do this on your own."
    The words touched her, sending all of her negative emotions flying out the window. She couldn't believe he'd taken the time to read about pregnancy.
    "You're sweet." So sweet it was shocking. 
    "I know."
    "I thought you were going to say that." He and Mary Lou would definitely get along.
    "See, you already know me so well," he said. "You can even predict what I'm going to say before I say it."
    "I don't know about that."
    "Hmmm." He paused, his voice laced with amusement. "Guess what I'm going to say next."
    She thought hard for a moment. "You're about to tell me that you're an Elvis impersonator, and you're going to a convention in Napa Valley two weeks from now."
    "Close." He chuckled. "I'm going to Vegas."
    "Damn. I was wrong." She stared at the sky. "But seriously, I know you didn't call to impress me with your pregnancy-related knowledge."
    "You're right," he said. "Actually, I was wondering how you felt about pasta."
    "Doesn't everyone like pasta?"
    He let out a pained sigh. "My brother loathes the stuff."
    "Bastard," she said.
    The guy chortled. "I call him that every day. He always reminds me that if he's a bastard, then I'm a bastard too."
    "Smart man," she said.
    "High intelligence runs in the family."
    She rolled her eyes. "Yet somehow you managed to get me pregnant, Mr. Intelligence."
    Silence fell.
    "Kidding," she said.
    "I thought you were, but I was worried I'd get smacked if I laughed."
    "How could I smack you through the phone?"
    "A woman scorned is a frightful thing," he said. "You'd find a way to do it."
    She grinned. "Don't forget that next time you think about pissing me off."
    "I solemnly swear to be on my best behavior at all times," he said. "And I'll especially be on my best behavior today if you let me take you out to lunch."
    "So that's why you asked me about pasta." Here she was thinking he was just weird. "I wondered why it was so important to you."
    "Are you kidding?" he said. "If you disliked pasta, it would trash our whole relationship. Pasta is that important to me."
    "Yet I notice you still seem to be on okay terms with your brother who hates it."
    "I tried to cut him off, but he keeps coming back." Sebastian gave a pained sigh, then brightened. "Though what do you say? Do you want to go out to lunch?"
    "Fine. Is it a date?" she asked.
    "Do I get to grab your butt?" he asked.
    "No." Her eyes narrowed.
    "Then yes."
    "I'm confused," she said. "If I said yes to letting you grab my butt, would it not have been a date?"
    "It still would have been a date," he said. "I just wanted to see if you'd say yes."
    "You jerk!" Despite the jab, she gave a snort of laughter.
    "Finally, you laughed," he said.
    "That was the goal?"
    "Naturally," he said. "So when do I pick you up?"
    She stared at her bakery. Through the window, she could see that diners were eating rolls, croissants, pastries, and homemade cakes. She wasn't needed now. Most of the food was baked in the morning before the restaurant even opened. Even her pastry dough could wait until later. And besides, she was starving and tired. The chocolate-filled croissant she'd choked down that morning had come back up again a half an hour after she'd eaten it. She needed something substantial if she wanted to battle with her employees and her cook in training who couldn't even tell the difference between salt and sugar.
    She bit her bottom lip. "Can you come, well, now?"
    "Sweetheart, I'm already on my way," he said.
    Sebastian ended the call. Sighing, she stared at the blue sky and pressed her hand against her abdomen. It would be nice if she could pretend that the light movement beneath her skin was the result of her baby swimming around within her, but she knew it was her churning stomach. Just as she was grousing about all of the pains she was experiencing, Sebastian drove a fancy black car into the parking lot. It was no BMW, but it was definitely not the vehicle of a poor man. She headed over to

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