Page 13 of Pregnant By the Playboy

Not surprising. After all, I have only one night, plus his reputation, to go on.

“Do you have a baby?” I ask.

“Nah, that’s my niece. Evie.” He smiles as he turns the screen back on and shows me a picture of him and Evie together. “That was yesterday afternoon.”

“She’s a cutie,” I say. Evie has pudgy cheeks and an adorable tooth-free smile. “How’s her mother doing?”

Babies are cute, but whenever I see one, I’m concerned about the mother. Pregnancy and caring for a baby can be difficult. My friend Pearl had it pretty rough.

But I don’t even know who Evie’s mother is. I shouldn’t have asked.

“She’s well,” Vince says, then flips to a picture of Evie and Pusheen.

And, okay, maybe the sight of the baby with Pusheen causes a slight stab in my chest. I always thought I’d be a mother, even though I know motherhood can be tough. I imagined I’d get married and have a baby and a house, and my child would grow up with a dad.

Unlike me.

My dad was, by all accounts, a fun and loving man, a devoted father.

But he died when I was three.

And now my biological clock is ticking, and I still can’t find the right guy.

“You okay?” Vince touches my shoulder.

“I’m fine.”

He sits behind me and wraps his arms around my chest. I think he wants to ask why I look a bit sad, but he can tell I’d prefer not to talk about it.

Vince Fong is kinder and more thoughtful than I expected.

“So, how do you feel about a two-night stand?” he asks. “I have nothing planned until tomorrow evening, when I’m having dinner with my family. What do you say we spend all that time together?”

I’m having dinner with Mom and Larry tomorrow, but that’s it.

And there are a few things I’d like to forget about now. More sex is just what I need.

More sex with Vince, specifically.

“Yes,” I say.

“Perfect.” He turns me around to face him. “I’d like you to spend most of this weekend without any clothes on. Sound like a plan?”

“It sure does.”

Chapter 5

Vince

Marissa is standing at my door, in the black dress and black boots she was wearing when I met her almost forty-eight hours ago.

And what a great forty-eight hours it’s been.

True to my word, she spent most of those hours naked. When she was wearing clothes, it was simply one of my T-shirts, and I’m not gonna lie, it was hot seeing her in my clothes.

“So...” She seems a little shy now. “Thanks for the great weekend.”

“It was my pleasure,” I say.