Page 14 of Be My Baby

Anticipation shivered over him. Sure, they weren’t going to have sex, that would be a whole other Pandora’s box ofholy crap, but nervous excitement flooded him anyway. He glanced at the glowing screen of his phone again.

I’m ovulating.

He slid his phone back into his back pocket and followed Simon back toward the bar.

Shit just got real.

Chapter Eight

Millie had thefront door open before he’d turned off the engine. Max pasted as bland an expression on his face as possible as he walked up the short pathway toward her, when in reality his insides were churning like molten lava.

He shoved his shaking hands into his jeans pockets to appear as laid-back as possible.

She shut the door quietly behind him. A wall of warm air hit him, her gas-log fireplace merrily crackling away on the other side of the living room. The TV was silent, but the flickering images of a late-night entertainment show proved she’d been sitting watching until he’d driven up.

Max toed off his sneakers and sat them on the rack by the door, then looked up at her. Colour flushed her face. He couldn’t tell if it was because of the warmth in the room or because of what they were about to do.

It didn’t really matter. He was hot enough for both of them. He rubbed his clammy palms over the seat of his pants.

“So…”

Millie breathed deep and spun on the spot, heading toward the rear of the house. He followed. She stopped outside the bathroom and bit her bottom lip.

He almost groaned. He was attracted to her enough as it was, let alone with her looking so damned enticing in her designer flannelette pyjamas.

Flannos shouldn’t be so damned sexy. It should be illegal.

“The, ah, stuff you need is on the counter there.” She motioned into the bathroom. “Once you’re done, bring the vial straight to me.” She glanced around as if trying to remember something. “Will you need any material to help?”

Max frowned. “Material?”

Millie’s cheeks pinked. She looked so damned adorable it melted his heart.

“Pictures. A magazine. Porn.”

Max laughed. He couldn’t help it. He shook his head. “You could always take off your shirt. That would give me plenty of inspiration.”

Millie gasped and her eyes flew wide. Then her face collapsed and she slapped a hand to her chest and let out a huge laugh. She shook her head and shoved his shoulder toward the bathroom.

“You’re ridiculous. Get in there and get it done, mister.” She waited until he stepped into the room and pulled the door toward herself. “I’ll turn the sound back up on the TV in case… you know. Let me know if you have any troubles. Otherwise, I’ll see you soon.”

She shut the door in front of him and Max stood there, half shocked that he’d said that out loud, half bewildered at her reaction.

He walked over to the counter and picked up the small plastic medical vial and removed the lid. It wouldn’t be difficult in the least to do what she required. All he’d have to do would be think of her.

“And here she thinks I was kidding about the shirt,” he muttered.

*

Millie closed hereyes and tried not to think about what Max—herMax—was doing only metres away.

Would he stand, or would he need to sit down? Did it make him weak in the knees when he released?

She leaned back in the soft lounge and let out a deep breath. She really shouldn’t be thinking about this. Not about Max and where his hand likely was right this instant.

Whatwashe thinking about? Would he be able to get excited enough to do the deed?

“Why am Ithinkingthis?”

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