Page 57 of The Baby Contract With My Hot Billionaire Boss

“No, Mom. That’s not it. He didn’t … he didn’t know I was bringing that stuff to you. It’s just … look, it’s all very complicated. But I want you to know that I’m with someone and he’d like to meet you. Both of you.”

Again Leann squeals and Mom actually looks somewhat pleased. The fact that a guy I’m dating would like to meet my mother obviously sits well with her.

“All right. He can come over for dinner.”

“Actually, we’d like you to come over for dinner at our place.”

Now she openly gapes at me and Leann’s mouth drops open in surprise as she glances from me to Mom.

“Your place? Emma Randolph, you mean to tell me that you are living with this man and you’ve never so much as introduced him to me before?”

“It’s been kind of a whirlwind.”

“Well …” She seems like she’s at a loss for what to say but Leann still looks excited about the entire thing.

“When do we get to come over?”

“How about Sunday?” I ask. “I’ll come get you and bring you over.” I don’t want to give them the address of the house because I don’t want Mom to know just how rich Chris is until we’re actually there for dinner. Giving her too long to think about it will only make her more nervous. Or suspicious. Or … well, I don’t really know what but I’m sure it’s not going to be good.

“All right,” they both agree and Mom actually gives me a small smile. “Sunday.”

With that I breathe a sigh of relief and get out of there before I say something that sets off her suspicions again. This is going to be interesting enough without giving her any ammo before we get started.

Chris, on the other hand, is excited about meeting them and spends all day Saturday grilling me about what they like to eat and making sure that the chef is going to prepare it. All of it. From fried fish and potatoes to baked mostaccioli and garlic bread. He’s determined that we’re going to have a little of everything to make sure they enjoy it.

“One entree and one or two sides is plenty,” I keep insisting but he refuses to listen to reason.

“It’s not any trouble. We can have plenty.”

I can tell by the look on his face that he really believes that. That he thinks it’s best to give them everything he can and I hesitate to say what I’m thinking.

“Chris, look, my family grew up with very little. You making so much food with definitely so much waste … I don’t think it’s going to go over well with my mother.”

He frowns at that and I can tell he hadn’t really thought of it that way.

“I’m sorry. I don’t … I don’t want you to feel weird about it. It’s a nice gesture. It really is. I just don’t want you to go overboard on things. They’ll be happy with a normal dinner. You don’t have to push it so hard.”

“Right. Sure.” But I can tell he’s very much in his head right now. And he’s thinking hard about what he’s going to do.

“Maybe just the mostaccioli, for your sister.”

I smile at that. Mom will be happy if he does something nice for Leann. More so even than she would be if he made her favorite dish.

Somehow he seems to recognize that fact as well, and I gradually start to think that he’s coming to terms with this meal we have coming up.

But it doesn’t appear to be the case. Because when we’re getting ready for dinner, he’s spending an inordinate amount of time getting dressed and making sure that everything is ready.

For someone who always comes across so confident, something about this meal has definitely thrown him and I start to wonder if … just maybe … he thinks this meal is as important as I do.

Does he really care that much what my family thinks of him? Is it that important that my mother and my sister like him?

“I’ve got to go and get them,” I say finally, watching him go back and forth from the dining room to the kitchen yet again. “Everything is great. The food looks great and the table is fine. Just relax, okay?” I set my hand on his arm and smile, though inside I’m feeling nervous as well.

“Right, of course,” he agrees with a smile of his own, but I can tell he’s distracted and I hesitate before leaning forward to press my lips to his, the kiss turning heated in practically an instant. “Mmm, I thought you said you needed to go?” he murmurs as his hands move to my hips and his mouth attaches itself back to mine again.

“I do,” I reply, but I’m helpless against the feel of him against my body, every inch of my body. I just want … more. So much more.

Finally, reluctantly, he steps back and I sigh, not really wanting to leave this moment either, but at least one of us has some willpower. “You should go get them. We don’t want you to be late.”

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