Free Happily Ever All-Star: A Secret Baby Romance by Sosie Frost Page B

wagging his tail and bidding me further into the penthouse.
    “Wait… dog . Come back. That’s the only purse I have that goes with a cocktail dress and lab coat!”
    I had no treat to offer or squeaky toy to hold as ransom. I darted after the dog, stopping only to kick my sandals off before I slid across the hardwood floors.
    Shattering a shoe’s heel was nothing compared to cracking an ankle. Besides, it was dumb to even wear them. The heels were the only shoes I owned that made my calves look good—if such a stupid thing were possible.
    Like Jude was a calf man.
    Hell, even if he was, I’d be a heifer in a few months anyway. First in size, then…more literally.
    Eighteen weeks into the pregnancy, and I was still in the sweet spot between denial and panic. I tried to prepare, even looked through the baby aisles at Target. But as cute as the onesies were, the various equipment and accoutrements which promised to extract liquids from my body overwhelmed me.
    If the word duct didn’t make me queasy, the threat of pints sure as hell did.
    I only had one pair of sexy black heels. Now my only pumps would be a terrible fashion statement.
    That got me upset. Just what I needed. Leaky eyes. Future leaky boobs. A very real pregnancy in a very imaginary relationship.
    And the man I’d crushed on since elementary school would only see me get bigger, more miserable, more sick, more frazzled, more…
    In love with him.
    Jude called my name.
    “Hey, Doc.” The nickname was starting to grow on me. “Sorry—I was getting out of the shower. Lost track of time.”
    Yeah. I’d have been a little lost with Jude in the shower too.
    I plastered on a smile and greeted my assumed boyfriend as if I were used to seeing him shirtless and dripping from a hot shower. He ruffled a towel through his wet hair.
    That was okay. I didn’t need to breathe, not when I could gawk instead. The air rushed from me as if he had wrapped me in his arms and squeezed until I popped. It was probably the first time I was glad he didn’t hug me. The slightest pressure would have squeezed every crazy, hormonal emotion out of me like I was a tube of manic depressive toothpaste.
    “Did you find the place okay?” Jude tossed his towel over his shoulder. The edge tickled over his abs—thick and shadowed with rippling muscle. His jeans hung low over a trim waist, hinting at that lovely V between his hips.
    “Yeah,” I said. “Thought I’d need a retina scan to get in though.”
    He laughed. “The penthouse is a little nuts, but it was the only furnished place I could find this close to the practice facility. I wanted to focus on training camp, not moving and real estate.”
    Ah, the ramblings of a mad, football-obsessed millionaire. I wasn’t surprised. Even when we were kids, we had to drag him to movies, beg him to play video games, and bribe him into cultural events. If it wasn’t football, it wasn’t important. At least he’d hired someone to buy his groceries and clean his house or the man would have died to the elements in the middle of an end zone.
    “I’m glad you’re here,” Jude said. “You’re really gonna brighten this place up.”
    “You realize a pregnant woman has invaded your bachelor pad?”
    “As long as you’re not giving birth in my penthouse, I think we’ll work it out.”
    “I’ll try to keep up my end of the bargain.”
    “Just keep those legs crossed.”
    “Oh, where was that sage wisdom four months ago?”
    Jude stretched, and every muscle in his chest tightened with him. Only twenty-two weeks of this torture to go.
    “Are you here for good?” he asked. “Staying the night?”
    Did my mouth actually have to water as I stared at his lean, toned, gratuitously-sexy body? Stay the night ? Hell, he’d be lucky if I moved off of the stairs.
    Until this point, the pregnancy cravings hadn’t extended beyond orange juice and chocolate. Now I wanted something different.
    A meat popsicle.
    A lick of his loins.
    A peck