The Baby Contract (The Billionaire Bachelor Series) by Olivia Starke Page B

you have wine?” Actually, a bottle of tequila would’ve made her feel much better.
    “We have an extensive wine list.” He started naming brands and vintage in a much too excited voice for her mood to handle. When he paused for a breath, she ordered one of the merlots he’d mentioned just to get him to leave.
    After he disappeared, she dug her cross-stitch from her purse, but soon stuffed it back inside after poking her finger three times with the needle. Her hands trembled too much for the delicate work.
    “Fear of flying?”
    Liam’s voice made her start. Abby rubbed her sweating palms over the soft leather couch cushions.
    “It’s not too bad,” she replied, though flying wasn’t her main concern. Her coming week with Liam overwhelmed her insecurity of being in the air. He held her gaze, and the butterflies worked themselves into a tizzy again.
    “It’s a brief flight. We’ll be there by three PM.” He returned to his work.
    The short time didn’t make her feel better, not much would at this point. She focused on the aroma of conditioned leather, counting her breaths, wishing she could still her nerves with a round of yoga. Her daily outlet for the stress she encountered in nursing.
    The chipper steward reappeared, handing her a glass of wine. She took an eager drink, barely noting its taste. Another three drinks and she’d nearly finished it off. What would Liam think if I asked for the bottle? She almost giggled out loud, the alcohol hitting her bloodstream quickly since she hadn’t eaten that morning. She bit her lip, and instead asked for another glass, which she took her time and nursed.
    Liam took up too much room in the jet, his presence surrounding her. Unbidden, she found her thoughts meandering to what Liam might look like naked. Well, below the waist, she’d already seen the shirtless picture. It’d been years since she’d seen a penis that didn’t belong to a sick patient, and honestly, she’d become deadened to the sight. But she doubted the ability to remain pragmatic once his made an appearance.
    Womanly interest blossomed. What kind of lover would he be? She studied the man in question from the corner of her eye. His laptop sat squarely on the table before him. His white shirt was wrinkleless and starched, his tie hanging down straight, the gold monogrammed tiepin in perfect position. His dark slacks were creased, face cleanly shaven, nothing about him out of place. He’d be efficient, she decided. Tab A into slot B efficient, with nothing superfluous left over. He seemed well-organized in everything else.
    Abby squirmed on the cushion, her errant wonderings having a sudden, and very real, physical effect. Awareness heated her bloodstream, and she gulped down the rest of the wine. Regardless his approach, it’d been entirely too long since she’d had a man touch her in an intimate way. Too long since she’d been stimulated and aroused, too long since she’d been left wet with want. And suddenly she was wet, and very much wanting.
    “I’m not going to think about this,” she mumbled to herself. She couldn’t, because the fluttering of fear began to take hold beneath arousal.
    In preparation, she’d waxed and shaved, exfoliated and lotioned within an inch of her life. Though she hated comparing herself to other women he’d known, she couldn’t help it. And had been annoyed with herself for taking such unusual care with her appearance.
    He’d be efficient, and for the love of God, she was determined not to be anything but equable.
    “Pardon? Did you say something?” Liam asked, breaking into her inner rant.
    Abby blushed. How much had she said out loud? No more alcohol for me. “Nothing.”
    She snatched her cross-stitch from her purse and focused on her needlework again. The alcohol had steadied her hands, and she lost herself to the colorful strands of floss. Time passed faster than she could’ve imagined, and soon they were preparing to land.
    They landed on an