Free Project Daddy by Kate Perry

couple of blocks away, and by the time I walked uphill to the corner where I was supposed to meet Luc I was breathless. And limping—my blister had flared up with a vengeance. Sweat made my glasses slip down my nose, which I hate, and the silk shell I wore under my suit stuck to my skin and bunched uncomfortably under my arms.
    Luc stood on the corner unencumbered, looking cool and fresh. He dared smile at me—not trying to conceal his amusement at the spectacle I made.
    The bastard.
    I tried to remember that he was helping me, but I was tired and hungry and grungy. So my greeting was like a growl. “Where’s your laundry?”
    He took the bag off my shoulder and I was suddenly much lighter. “At home. I have a washer and dryer, remember?”
    “Then why do I have my laundry?” I could have met him at his loft and done it there.
    “Because you need to meet more men.” He walked up the street, shortening his stride so I could keep up.
    “So this is a wax on , wax off kind of thing?”
    He grinned. “Exactly.” He pushed the door open. “After you, squirt.”
    I gave him a dirty look and walked into the laundromat. “What does doing laundry have to do with meeting—”
    I adjusted my glasses and then blinked a couple times for good measure. Wow—the place was really crowded. I glanced at Luc. “But it’s Friday night. I didn’t think people did their laundry Friday nights.”
    “They do here. This is a great place to pick up people.” He dumped my bag in front of a washer that had just opened up (I didn’t miss the come-hither smile the woman who just finished using it gave him, or that he returned it) and stood back. “Get to it, squirt.”
    Glaring at him, I began stuffing the machine. I didn’t have very many clothes to wash other than underwear (I have to dry-clean my suits and blouses), but I had linens like towels and sheets. I wrestled it all into the washer, slammed the door closed, and started the load.
    “Done.” I looked up but Luc wasn’t there. It took me a moment to find him (yes, there were that many people). He sat on a plastic seat, talking to the woman who had just vacated our washing machine.
    Hey! We were supposed to be finding men for me. I scowled at him. Fine. I could do this on my own. After all, I was the one who found Joseph.
    I surveyed the scene, cruising for the perfect sperm donor. No, I wasn’t sure what the perfect sperm donor looked like, but some men were easy to eliminate. Like the guy in the back left corner who wore the spiky dog collar and had a green Mohawk. Though the mood I was in tonight, I was tempted to go over and get the guy’s info. Hey—if he had blue eyes and dimples he was viable.
    But I decided to approach a man in the opposite corner of the room. I sighed, reminded myself of my dream, and straightened my skirt. Here went nothing.
    I advanced upon my quarry, a smile pasted on my face. I felt disappointed when I saw he didn’t have the right color eyes, but I stifled that and forged on. “Excuse me.”
    He raised both his eyebrows at me. “Yes?”
    “Do you consider yourself ambitious?”
    His face screwed up like he was giving the question serious thought. Great—he was introspective. That was excellent.
    “I suppose,” he answered slowly.
    Hmm. He sounded unsure. I wasn’t sure Lydia wanted an indecisive baby, so I had doubts about this one. Still, it couldn’t hurt to ask him a few more questions just to be sure. “Have you ever had a run-in with the law?”
    “No.” He frowned at me. “Have you?”
    “God no. I mean, other than that time in college when someone pulled the fire alarm and they questioned everyone in my dorm.”
    His eyes crossed, which had to mean he was especially genetically evolved, right?
    I bit my lip, wondering what to ask him next. Then I remembered my conversation with Gary. “Are you into kinky sex?” I was sure Lydia wouldn’t want a deviant for offspring.
    His eyes widened. “Are you?”
    I tipped my chin