Page 8 of Rescued By Four Alphas
She laughs. "Of course you will."
The second course, a truffle risotto, arrives soon, and it makes Dahlia close her eyes in bliss with the first bite. I notice a man at a nearby table staring at her with unusual intensity. He's not the only one. Several male patrons keep glancing our way.
I shift my position slightly to block their view of Dahlia. Her pregnancy has intensified her natural Omega scent, making it nearly irresistible to any Alpha in the vicinity.
"So," I begin casually, "I was thinking about expanding our security measures at the house."
Dahlia's spoon pauses halfway to her mouth. "Evan, no."
"Just hear me out. We could install a more comprehensive system that…"
"Not tonight." She sets down her spoon. "Please. I don't want to discuss security, threats, Hammond, or any of that. Not on our date night."
I start to argue, but stop myself when I see the look in her eyes. "You're right. I'm sorry."
"Thank you." She resumes eating. "Tell me about your day instead. Did you fire anyone?"
"Only two people." I smile. "And that's a record low for me."
"You're growing soft in your old age."
"I'm thirty-eight."
"You're ancient." She grins. "Soon you'll need a cane to chase after our four little monsters."
"I'll hire someone to chase them for me."
She kicks me gently under the table. "You will not. You'll be right there in the trenches with the rest of us, changing diapers and cleaning up spit-up."
"That's an alarming prospect."
"But it's worth it." Her expression softens. "Can you believe it? In six months, we'll have four babies."
"Four perfect little nightmares."
She takes another bite of risotto. "God, this is good. Do you think the chef would give me the recipe?"
"If he doesn't, I'll buy you the restaurant."
"Stop that!" She laughs. "You can't solve everything by throwing money at it."
"Watch me."
Dahlia eats with impressive enthusiasm through the following three courses, and even requests seconds of the duck confit. The server seems delighted rather than surprised, which makes me suspect the staff has been briefed about her condition.
By the time dessert arrives, I notice her cheeks are flushed and her pupils dilated. The pregnancy hormones also affect her arousal levels, a fact that has benefited all four of us.
"You look... warm," I observe.
"It's hot here." She fans herself with her napkin. "Or maybe it's just you in that suit."
"Are you flirting with me, Dr. Baldwin?"
"Is it working?" She leans forward, giving me a view of her cleavage.
"Definitely." I shift in my seat, my pants suddenly too tight. "Perhaps we should skip coffee."
"Perhaps we should." She runs her foot up my calf under the table.
