Page 4 of Royal Baby Maker

Letting the pups off their leashes, I headed through the hallway and into the grand foyer. Just beyond, I could hear voices; several feminine ones. Curious, and needing to find Miss Callehurst, I leaned around the corner.

The guests—all beautiful women—were strewn out on plush leather chairs or couches. Bishop was sandwiched on both sides by them. They stared at him with thick lashes fluttering, simpering and sanguine. He was being worshiped like some ancient god. No longer in his workout gear, he was dressed in a suit jacket lined in rich emerald green. It hung open, the button-down shirt beneath doing little to hide his muscles. Rich, midnight pants hugged his strong legs.

He cleans up good, but he's no god,I reminded myself quickly. I was halfway through rolling my eyes when I glimpsed his face—his empty smile. I'd only spent a few minutes with the man but I could tell there was a difference in the energy he'd displayed to me in the kitchen, and this. Earlier he'd been having fun. But right now...

He was miserable.

“Oh! Good—someone to refill my drink,” a young woman said. She was dressed in a low-cut dress the color of blood. Her body was leaning towards Bishop, and if I looked closely, I could tell he was subtly leaning away.

She was staring at me. That was when I realized who the “someone to refill her drink” was. Clearing her throat, she wagged a glass full of ice. “Go on,” she said curtly. “Get me a new mimosa.”

Before I could stop myself, I said, “I'm not a maid. Also, no good mimosa is served with ice in it.”

Bishop didn't muffle his snort of laughter. The women were all aghast at my response; I didn't really understand the weight of it. The woman with her empty glass was turning redder than her dress.

Miss Callehurst rounded the corner. “Ah, there you are, Nellie. Get the dogs into the kitchen and give them some water, they must be parched.”

Happy to get away from these stuck-up socialites, I clicked my tongue at the dogs so they'd follow me from the room. As I went, I spotted Bishop still smiling at me. His reaction had my stomach doing cartwheels.

Once I'd settled the dogs with fresh water, I hung the leashes where I'd found them earlier. Unsure what else to do, I sat on a squishy stool by the granite island. It felt odd to be alone in the spacious kitchen. I imagined that any second a fancy chef would bust through the doors with an exquisite tasting menu just for me.

I jumped when Bishop pushed into the room. He was no chef, that was for sure. “You're still here,” he said.

“I'm waiting for your mom to tell me if I've got the job or not.”

“Well, of course you've got it.”

I sat up taller. “How do you know?”

Bishop leaned over the opposite side of the island. His hands were folded on top, just a foot away from my own. “Mom isn't the type to waste time. If she didn't like the way Jaws and Cujo responded to you from the start, she wouldn't have let you leave with them.”

“That's kind of intimidating,” I said with a laugh.

His eyebrow moved lower. “Speaking of... I think you gave Iris quite a scare out there.”

“Iris?” My forehead tightened. “Oh, her. I wasn't trying to be rude, but what kind of person assumes a stranger must be the maid?”

“A girl who's used to being waited on hand and foot her whole life.” He muffled a yawn, he was clearly exhausted; was it from entertaining those women? Then he looked at me, suddenly refreshed. “I thought it was hilarious how upset she got. You should be careful, though. She's going to hate you now.”

“Because I corrected her?” I shook my head sharply. “That's kind of an overreaction.”

“Overreaction is Iris in a nutshell.” Stretching his arms over his head, his muscles strained against the shirt he was wearing. The jacket had vanished—I tried not to stare. I really did. “You're not used to this world, are you?”

I unstuck my tongue from the roof of my mouth. “You mean the world of the rich and famous. Nope. Don't plan to get used to it, either.”

“You're not into power or money?” he asked, doubt plain on his face.

“I'm into doing a good job and hanging out with cute dogs.” I glanced over at the Pomeranians where they were stretched out in the warm sun on the tile. “Animals are straight-forward in what they need. What they want. I like that. I need that in my life right now.”

When I looked back at Bishop, his lips were in a strained line. The glimmer in his smoky eyes was mysterious—compelling. My heart crawled into my belly to hide.

His hands closed the distance on the counter-top and brushed over mine. “You're pretty complex for a dog walker.”

Bristling, I narrowed my eyes. “I'll tuck that line away in my list of 'Things Guys Say That Totally Get Me Into Their Bed.'”

Bishop's smirk warmed my core; he tightened his hold on my fingers. “You're playing, I get it, but if you're asking me totryand seduce you... I'm not sure you could survive it.”

My mouth was so dry that my attempt at a sarcastic laugh failed. “That's bold. You'd fumble at that attempt, trust me.”

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