Page 2 of Secret Baby for the Bad Boy

“Smooth, Lara,” Shana says, but I can only sit here, mortified and oddly thrilled by the attention of the man who suddenly makes this flight feel endless.

He arches an eyebrow, as if expecting an explanation, but I’m trying to figure out why he’s still staring at me. He’s not being very polite. Not that I was being polite- no, I’m thinking about his behavior, not mine.

“Uh, it's not what—” I say, not sure where I’m going with this. Am I about to say it’s not what it looks like? What else could I have meant?

“Relax,” he says in that soft, gravelly tone. This time I can tell it’s a real smile as the corners of his eyes crinkle in a way that softens his rugged features.

I nod, swallowing hard.

My heart still dances wildly in my chest as I turn away, pretending to adjust my seatbelt again, but I can feel his gaze on me. That look is so warm but also unsettling, thanks to the familiarity in them, as if we’ve known each other forever rather than the strangers we actually are.

I shift in my seat, stealing another glance at him. His eyes meet mine, and I have the oddest feeling that there’s some kind of connection between us. Connection aside, I want him. My body tingles to life and craves his touch. It’s too much, too intense, too soon.

“Get ahold of yourself,” I whisper internally. I’m here on vacation. An escape, sandy beaches and sun, not green-eyed strangers with intense gazes that tell stories I can’t read.

“You okay?” Shana whispers.

I nod, glancing at my best friend. This whole thing was her idea. And while it seemed like a good idea at the time, this vacation is kicking off to be one that I’ll remember for all the wrong reasons. But I’m not going to let this happen.

I want to tell him to stop staring at me, to look at something – anything – else, but I don’t really want to draw any more attention to the fact that I’m so aware of him. I’m here to have fun, to get away from it all. I’m not going to be embarrassed or feel weird in front of a stranger I’ll never see again. Especially not one who’s so… so… intense.

Shana glances at me again, her book lowered as her attention shifts from me to the man beside me.

“My name is Lark,” he says, as if it’s time to make introductions because we’ve made things awkward. I can feel his gaze like a touch, and a shiver tickles down my spine.

“Nice to meet you,” I say through gritted teeth without offering my name in response. I don’t want him to think this means anything more than it is – he’s the stranger sitting beside me on a long flight.

“The seatbelt sign is on,” the captain says over the intercom. The sound, the ding of the seatbelt light, it’s all a reminder of the reality of the situation. I’d never unbuckled my belt, but I check it all the same as I hear his click into place. Somehow, the belt isn’t keeping me safe from embarrassing myself.

Only when the light clicks off and we’re cleared to remove our belts do I dare breathe again.

“Drink?” The flight attendant’s voice meets my ears, and I look up into her smiling face.

“Water, please,” I say.

“Whiskey,” Lark's deep voice rumbles across my skin like a breeze.

“Of course,” I mumble to myself. Whiskey matches the roughness of the man.

“Here you go,” the flight attendant says, handing me a water and him a little bottle of amber-colored alcohol.

“Thanks,” we both say at the same time.

Looking out the window once more, I sip the cool water as if that’ll calm my stomach and stop bile from backing up my throat. Beside me, the glass he’d poured his drink into tilts back, the sharp-stinging alcohol disappearing past Lark's lips. His Adam’s apple bobs slightly—a small movement, yet I can’t help but watch.

I need to get ahold of myself.

But those arms—the veins weaving up muscular forearms, visible even in the dim cabin light—hold my attention in a way they have no business doing. I’ve never cared about how a guy’s arms look, so why am I obsessing over his? Maybe I should have gotten a drink, too.

His seat somehow looks too delicate for him and when he shifts, my whole body lights up as his arm touches mine. His soft apology leaves me breathless, and I know I need to figure something out, because this is all too damn much.

I’m going to try the magical time machine of sleep, because I don’t know what the heck else to do. Maybe my dreams will be less chaotic and more lighthearted beach-vacation worthy. And I better not dream of him.

Chapter Two

Lark

I push through the throng of sun-kissed bodies, listening to the sound of laughter and the smell of sweat, heat, and ocean air filling my lungs. A delicate hint of coconut sunscreen lingers in the little beachfront bar as I sit down on one of the stools.

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