Free Gifted To The Dragon: A Paranormal Pregnancy Romance (The Gifted Series Book 2) by Amira Rain

stroller, and finally a small plush teddy bear he'd fished out from behind his rear. By the time we reached our destination on the eleventh floor, he was pouting a bit, having exhausted his supply of things to throw.
     
    After just a minute or two in the dress boutique called Stella's, I spotted a cap-sleeved, shortish red dress that I thought was just stunning.
     
    I pulled it from the rack, held it up to my front, and asked Emma what she thought. "Too sexy for a dinner to meet a distinguished dragon shifter commander?"
     
    Emma immediately shook her head. "Not at all. I think it's a sexy dress, but without being too sexy if you know what I mean. The scoop neck isn't even that low. But as far as 'distinguished dragon shifter commander'...well, I don't know if Commander Grant is exactly 'distinguished.' He can definitely have an authoritative air about him at times, and he's definitely well-respected, but 'distinguished' brings to mind someone a lot older than he is. He's only thirty-three."
     
    "Oh."
     
    For some reason, I'd just pictured a "commander" to be older, maybe in his fifties or sixties. At least his forties.
     
    "And as far as that sexy red dress you're holding up, there...well, you may have the right idea with that. You may be very glad to be looking your sexy best once you get an eyeful of Commander Grant. He's decidedly the 'tall, dark, and handsome' kind of man, to an extreme level on the 'handsome' part, I'd say, and he's single. So, maybe if the two of you hit it off-"
     
    "Are you serious? I'm pregnant."
     
    "Well, yes, but...well, you said your baby's father is completely out of the picture, right?"
     
    "Yes, but that doesn't mean that it's okay for me to start trying to look sexy for all sorts of different men."
     
    Going back to browsing through the rack, Emma gave her chocolate-brown eyes a slight roll. "I didn't say 'all sorts of different men.'"
     
    "Well, a single pregnant woman probably shouldn't be trying to look sexy for anybody."
     
    She glanced over at me. "Well, why the heck not? This isn't fifty years ago, or even ten years ago. Single pregnant women can date now. So, if you have any interest in it, you shouldn't feel funny about it at all. I'm just saying this because I know from personal experience how hard it is to welcome a baby into the world all alone, and I wish for you a different experience than I had." After pausing to pluck a midnight blue dress off the rack, Emma glanced over at me again. "Though if you want to be alone, that's fine, too, of course."
     
    I really wasn't quite sure exactly what I wanted at present. Maybe I did just want to be alone. For how long, I had no idea. All I knew was that I couldn't handle dating a string of sub-par men like I had before meeting Desmond, and I certainly couldn't stand to be hurt by a man like him again, one who'd caused stirrings in my heart and definitely in my loins, and then had just left.
     
    Fortunately, before Emma could press me any further about dating, Jake effectively changed the subject by managing to remove the twist-off lid of his sippy cup, spilling apple juice everywhere and requiring Emma to take him into the changing rooms to put him in a new outfit from his diaper bag.
     
    Although I knew I was still a long way from figuring out what my dating life as a pregnant woman or a new mom might be, I did, however, end up buying the semi-sexy red dress. I figured I might as well enjoy wearing such a thing while my waistline was still fairly trim.
     
    That evening, a bit past eight, Emma met me at my apartment so that we could head down to the restaurant on the twentieth floor of the tower together. She apologized for being late by a few minutes, saying that Jake had needed a few extra cuddles before being left with his babysitter. I told her I understood and didn't mind at all, and I didn't. I'd needed a few extra minutes to finish going over my hair with a big-barrel curling iron anyway.
     
    By the time we reached