Page 2 of Royal Baby Maker

I dug my heels in so I wouldn't back up. “What kind of a question is that?”

“A pretty straight forward one.”

His teeth were glinting in the sunlight that streamed through the huge windows beside us.I bet he thinks he's incredibly charming.And okay, he sort of is. But I was done with “charming” men in my life. “I'm not a dog walker until I get hired as one. You're really sure your mom is coming? Maybe I should go look for her.”

“Trust me,” he said, and it came out clipped—the first hint of him being anything less than flirty. Bishop grabbed the edge of the counter. He squeezed it like he wanted to snap it in two, his voice low and tired. “She's not the sort to wander far from me.”

“Alright. Sounds like all I need to do is stay near you.” Bishop's smile soaked up all the wickedness in the world. He swayed forward, smooth as the way a fishing line would whip through the air. His hook landed in me. “Hold up,” I said, sliding my heel backwards. “What are you doing?”

“Getting closer to you.” The knob on his throat flexed. “That's what you wanted, right?”

“No—I mean, I wanted...” Fuck. It was way too warm—Iwas way too warm. Bishop was all encompassing, his shoulders so broad they blocked the sunlight, and his lips looked soft. Would they be sweet or cruel?

If I kissed him, I'd know the answer.

Get a grip!My brain came to life, warning me that I was about to make a mistake I could never take back. My foot had bumped something furry. One of the dogs yipped, a noise high and sharp. A noise that cut my heart in two.

In a whirl of motion I spun around, crouching to check on the Pomeranian. “I'm so sorry!” I gasped, cupping its cheek while it licked my palm. “Did I hurt you?”

The dog danced in place, unharmed. I breathed out a great gasp of relief.

Bishop was staring down at me. All of his sexual energy had vanished, but in its place was a quiet curiosity that burned in his gray eyes. “You were really worried about him, huh?”

“Of course I was.” Giving the dog a quick hug, I let him down to prance with his friend. “The poor guy could have been injured. I should have paid more attention.”

“That's Jaws,” he said. “You can tell him from Cujo by the way his tail is pointed up higher—like a fin.”

I crouched there, petting the dogs with a smile that was starting to hurt my face. “So I'm guessing you named them, and not your mom.”

“You'd be right.”

“I appreciate your taste in scary movies.”

“Movies?” His chuckle was brief. “The books are where my heart lies. But yes, I have an appreciation for the classics... among other things.”

Lifting my eyes, I caught him gazing down the front of my shirt. His eyelids were heavy, shadowing his pupils. A massive erection tented his shorts. He wasn't trying to hide it; Bishop wasn't ashamed of his obvious lust. And with the huge cock he was smuggling under there... why would heeverbe ashamed?

In a flustered haze I jumped to my feet. “Whoa! Hey, you can't just ogle me like that! I... I don't even know you!”

His laugh made the tattoos on his bare chest dance, distracting me further. “Ah. So once we become more familiar, I'm free to stare down your shirt all I want. I get it.”

“That's not what I meant!”

“If you don't want me 'ogling' you, you'll have to get less gorgeous breasts.” His smirk could cut glass.

Jaws and Cujo were running around, barking as I approached Bishop with my hands in fists. I didn't know what I was going to do, I was just furious. Furious that he was so blunt... furious that he was making my body heat up.

A pounding rattle moved down the hall, ending when an older woman swung into the kitchen on sharp Prada heels with a box in her hands. “Bishop! There you are! Haven't you changed yet? Everyone will be here soon, and youknowI need you to make a good impression.” She dropped the box on the counter and I saw it was full of fancy cake balls and other tiny pastries. “Heaven knows you've spent the last years doing your best to prove to the world that you're some sort of ruffian. Then again, how could anyone say no to marrying my perfect little prince?”

Bishop's eyes flew to me. He was no longer smiling.

Did she say marry? Wait, more pressing, did she say... prince?Surely she just meant a prince to her. She was his mom, after all—I didn't need an introduction to figure that out. Miss Callehurst had the same dark hair and wolf-gray eyes as her son.

She clapped her hands, striding forward to pinch her son's cheek. “I can't wait to meet my royal grand-baby!”

There was no misinterpreting her that time.Royal baby?In disbelief I stared at Bishop. His shrug said volumes. This guy... this half-naked guy who'd been staring down my shirt... was a genuine prince?

Rapidly I ran through what I knew about royal families, because I wassureLos Angeles wasn't a damn monarchy. Picturing rolling fields, horses, dragons and swords called to mind the middle ages. Which would work, if time travel wasn't a fictional thing.Don't be silly, there are definitely real royal families out there... like in England!But he didn't sound British. No detectable accent at all—and thank god for that. He was dangerous enough already.

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