BABY DADDY Read Free Page B

championship race next weekend. I want that trophy. The team wants it. We want to be champions, first and foremost. Banging trust fund girls looking for some island adventure is an unnecessary distraction. I need to conserve all my energy for that race on Sunday.
    I finish my drink and prepare to leave.
    Whatever that energy I’m detecting somewhere in the bar, I’ll pass up on tonight. Maybe after the race, if I feel it again, I’ll make an effort to look for its source. For now, I’ll let this one go.
    I slide from the bar stool and collide into something.

    Boy oh Boy, I have seen dozens of the most hot-looking men of all races the past week and quite frankly, nothing has set my eggs a-fluttering and singing “fertilize me now!” in unison like a Wagner orchestra.
    Our eyes lock. Or I don’t know. He’s wearing shades, I’m wearing one, too, but I just know our eyes are onto each other like we’re the only people in this crowded bar.
    Holy hell, Batman, I can really feel the current passing between us. Megawatt level!
    I shiver, not from the cold rapidly spreading down my front.
    “I’m so sorry, miss. Are you alright?” he says with real concern, his hands hovering on me as if he wants to touch me but doesn’t want to cross the line.
    Muttering a curse to himself, he turns around to grab some paper napkins from the bar counter and begins dabbing on my face and neck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you and…” his voice trails off and he winces, embarrassed.
    I fight a giggle. I have to admit my limitations. I’m very rusty in the flirting department so I had to use that classic move I’ve read about so many times. Of course, I deliberately bumped into him. I purposefully drenched myself with the melon shake and now my caftan-covered chest is dripping with it.
    Lamest trick in the book to get a man’s attention but it’s very effective. I can’t see his eyes but the dude looks so guilty he’d probably donate a load of his sperm if I asked him to right now.
    He moves to wipe my wet chest but stops short. Boy, am I so glad I have extra pounds to give my double Ds an extra lift. The dude is definitely staring at my twin peaks, I can tell.
    Hmmm, keep looking. Darn shades. I wish he removes them so I can see the color of his eyes.
    “Shall I?” he asks me tentatively.
    His breath reaches my nostrils. Mama Mia! Yum! He’d taste good when I kiss him. His breath’s clean and minty. Most probably he’s clean all over, too.
    Check.
    “It’s alright.” I take the napkin from his hand. Our fingers brush.
    Kzzzzzzz! Zipzapboom!
    Our cosmic synergies are having an orgy now. I hope he feels it. I sure do!
    The butterflies in my belly are now flapping wildly like they just emerged collectively from their cocoons and begin hunting for their mates. Definitely mating season for me, too.
    He hasn’t even touched me deliberately yet and I’m melting like that bubblehead who’s currently giving me the territorial I-saw-him-first look.
    Sorry, bitch. He’s mine. Don’t even attempt to come in between me and my Baby Dada or you’ll end up an even sorrier mess. Not a good time to cross a desperate sperm thief.
    I slowly dab my chest with the paper napkin… stalling…waiting. I really need to brush up on my flirting skills. There’s gotta be a Plan B if my deliberate accidental bump ploy doesn’t work, after all.
    Come on, dude, ask my name. Introduce yourself. Please, Baby Dada. Help me.
    “Maybe you need to wash up,” he suggests.
    “Yeah, I need to. I feel sticky now,” I say.
    “But there’s always a long line at the ladies’ room.”
    “Uh-huh…” C’mon…invite me.
    “I know some place where you can wash up.”
    Yeah! I look up at him and smile. “Where? My hotel is quite a long walk from here.”
    “Uhh…mine’s just nearby.”
    “Okay. Let’s go.”
    He stares. “Are you…sure?”
    “Why not?”
    “You just met me.”
    “Why, are you a bad boy?”
    He gives out a short laugh,