The Pregnancy Project by Kat Cantrell

Author:Kat Cantrell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2016-02-23T16:00:00+00:00

Seven

When Harper had finally returned to the lab after a two-hour meeting, she’d wasted no time in announcing to Dante, “I have an idea. For our next date. You, me and dinner. At my place.”

And his concentration for the day left the building.

Dinnertime took approximately four hundred years to roll around, but once the antique clock on Harper’s wall chimed seven, Dante had the strangest lack of appetite. For food.

Apparently Harper had liked the idea of dating. Better than he would have ever guessed, especially since he hadn’t meant it like that. The science museum had been a spur-of-the-moment thing designed to get him the hell out of the lab before he busted something.

“Are you sure I can’t do anything?” he called to Harper in the kitchen.

She’d unceremoniously ordered him out of the way because, as she put it, this date was her pick. And she owed him for the science museum. Not that he’d felt any particular need to be repaid when he’d been lucky enough to get her into his arms during the monumental shift in their relationship that had somehow happened in the middle of an earthquake simulator. She’d not only welcomed his touch, but melted into his arms. He couldn’t have conceived a more perfect way to put a cap on step four than that.

He’d call that serendipity but he’d worked too hard for what he hoped would be the culmination of the evening to chalk it up to fate.

This was his woman to lose. And he didn’t intend to.

“I’ve got it.” Harper breezed through the entryway between the kitchen and the dining room, plates extended in both hands, then placed them on the table. “See? All done.”

“Yeah, I see.” But his eyes were on her.

How could food capture his attention more thoroughly than Harper, when she’d changed out of her snappy work pantsuit and donned a flowing ankle-length dress the color of sunset? She’d left her hair unbound and brushed it out somehow so it waved down her back instead of springing up in curls.

His body stirred to life in apparent appreciation, and the date—particularly the torture part—was officially underway.

Before she could sit down, he leaped up to pull her chair back because an erection was not an excuse to forget his manners. He got her all arranged and pushed her chair up to the table without touching her, though he had little hope he’d have that strength again. She smelled divine, like peaches with a hint of something sharp, like alcohol. Which reminded him of how much he enjoyed the lab and did not help matters down below.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have time to cook,” she apologized unnecessarily. “We left Fyra too late.”

She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, oblivious to the enormous sexiness of the sight. Or maybe she knew exactly what she was doing to him; after all, she’d announced plans for a second date mere hours after they’d finished the first. During that amazing earthquake simulation—which, by the

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