I spend the next two hours going over receipts and ledgers from the past three months, and then make the bank transfer, coming in just under the wire.
The front doorbells chime. I don’t look up. I’m staring at my laptop waiting for the acknowledgement of filing.
Deep, male laughter fills the air, pulling my attention from my computer.
Lucas is standing on the other side of the counter, bags in hand, staring at the complete disaster I’ve made. Papers are strewn everywhere. It looks like a tornado came through here and upended my entire bookkeeping system.
“You look how my brother Dallas looks at the start of each April.”
I nod. “Yeah. I almost forgot to file my quarterly sales taxes.”
His eyes narrow. “How could that even happen? Don’t you have reminders on your phone? A digital calendar? Alarms so you don’t forget? A wall calendar with important dates circled and noted? Hell, even a Post-it note affixed to your ledger would do.”
I stare at him with crazy eyes. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not a freak, that’s why. Do you seriously do all that crap you just said?”
“Any diligent businessperson would.”
I study him. “Lucas, have you ever been diagnosed with OCD? And if so, is it hereditary?”
His head bobs with laughter. “You’re not the first person to ever ask that. But no, it’s just good business practice.”
He steps forward, clears a spot on the counter and puts down a large take-out bag from Lloyd’s Steakhouse. Then he gets the bottle of wine he’d tucked under his arm and sets it down as well.
Involuntarily, my stomach grumbles as the incredible smells of the food hit me.
“So youdidget my text?” I purse my lips. “What kind of good business practice has you not responding to texts?”
“This isn’t business.”
I scoff. “It is according to the contract I just signed.”
He leans over the counter, inching closer. “The contract has nothing to do with this part.”
“Even so.” I tear my eyes away from his, refusing to succumb to his alluring gaze. “You should have texted me back.” I touch the takeout bag. “What’s this?”
“Dinner.”
“This isn’t a date, Lucas. This is a business transaction.”
“Can you not talk about my cock like it’s a commodity?”
“It’s not your cock I’m interested in. It’s your sperm.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I wonder how much truth there is to that. His cockisfascinating. The thought has me wondering if I’m not just a little disappointed that the friends-with-benefits thing didn’t actually happen. Then again, I am about to be bedded by the man.
He walks around to my side of the counter and whispers in my ear. “Then why didn’t you have me jizz into a cup?”
I step away. “Better odds this way.”
“Actually, the best odds are intrauterine insemination.”
My eyes widen.
“Don’t look so surprised, Regan. I’ve done my homework.”