Page 4 of Royal Surrogate 1
“You’re not wearing colored contacts, are you?”
“No.” Okay, maybe he’s not so charming after all. Maybe he’s just weird. And now I’ve gone and accidentally kissed him and given him the wrong idea.
“You said your father is undergoing treatment,” he says, as if it’s perfectly normal to ask a stranger about their family’s medical issues. “That’s not for something genetic, I assume? I believe I heard you mention a physical therapist, so it sounds like he may have had some sort of accident or?—”
“What’s wrong with you?” I demand, my humiliation giving way to defensiveness. He definitely got the wrong idea. “I told you, that kiss was an accident. I don’t even know you. I’m not having this conversation with you.”
I try to push past him, to escape this awkward situation, but he grabs my arm.
“Forgive me,” he says. “I’ve gone about this completely the wrong way. If we can start over?—”
“I’m not interested,” I say, wrenching my arm free. Just when I thought this day couldn’t throw anything else at me?—
“I’ll give you two thousand dollars to stay here and talk to me.”
Anything I might say dies in my throat. It’s not anywhere close to what I need, but it would be enough to keep me from getting evicted this month.
“Two thousand dollars,” he repeats. “Just for a brief interview. And then, if that goes well, I might be able to give you that million dollars you need.”
CHAPTER 3
Caspar
The woman’s gaze narrows. “Prove it.”
“Prove what?” I ask, genuinely unsure of what she’s asking.
“The money.” She glances toward my midsection—perhaps looking for a bulging wallet—then back up into my eyes. “Prove it.”
I give her a single nod, pulling my wallet from the inner lapel of my jacket. I count out twenty bills and nod toward the booth she’s just left. “Shall we?”
This is probably going to be a wasted effort—after all, I can’t believe a perfect woman—particularly one with lips as luscious as hers—would just fall from the sky and into my lap, as it were. After all the searching I’ve done for the right woman, it would be too easy to find her sitting behind me in a diner. And to have had her already kiss me. I’m not sure I was prepared for my perfect surrogate to also be able to arouse me in such a way.
“And all I have to do is answer questions?” She eyes me carefully before her gaze rests on the money in my hand. “Nothing…kinky, right?”
I open my mouth to answer—a comment like that would usually have a woman in my bed within the hour. But I clamp my lips closed before I can say anything untoward. After all, this woman could be the mother of my son in a few short months.
Instead, I give her a curt nod, motioning again toward the booth. This time she sits, and I take the seat across from her.
“What do you want to know?” Her focus seems to be only on the money still in my hand.
I set it on the table beside me, placing a saltshaker on top of the stack of bills. “Your name, to start.”
“Renae Foster.” She looks up into my eyes. “Is that it?”
I chuckle. “Ten minutes of your time. It’ll be painless, I promise.”
She tilts her head, and I swear, the movement makes my cock take notice, more than it already has. If I weren’t so dead set on finding a woman to bear my child, I’d invite this one back to my hotel for a day or two of fun.
Perhaps if she doesn’t pass the interview, I’ll do just that.
She must sense something, because her gaze narrows. “This is some weird sex thing, isn’t it?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Not at all.” Though I wouldn’t mind if it was…
“Okay. Then can we get on with it? I need to get to my bus.”
“I’d be happy to give you a ride to wherever you need once our interview is completed,” I say, glancing toward the front door of the diner. “My car is just out there.”