Home > Babies for the Billionaire (The Bad Boy Billionaires #15)(12)

Babies for the Billionaire (The Bad Boy Billionaires #15)(12)
Author: Judy Angelo

Now Anya would get to know the real Rafe Kent.

***

Anya was smiling – no, grinning was a more accurate description – as she hopped into her car and entered the Autobahn on the way to Bremen Burgerpark. It was going to be a great Saturday because she was going to see Rafe again. She was in such a good mood she felt like singing. It was corny, of course, but what could she say? She couldn’t help it if she was feeling like a lovesick schoolgirl.

She pulled into the parking lot, tucked her cell phone into her pocket and ran around to the trunk to grab the cooler. She’d offered to bring sandwiches but Rafe had told her everything was under control. She should just bring herself. When she’d insisted he’d finally relented and told her she could bring some drinks and that was exactly what she’d done. She only hoped he wasn’t expecting any alcoholic beverages. She wasn’t a beer drinker herself and all she brought were bottles of water and a variety of juice drinks. For good measure, she’d thrown in a bottle of sparkling grape juice. So she was boring. If Rafe and his friends didn’t like it, they could just sue her.

Grinning as the rebel in her threatened to spill over, she hauled the cooler out of the car and headed toward the grassy knoll where they’d agreed to meet. She was halfway there when a tall, lean figure – by now quite familiar – came toward her. On his face was a wide smile.

“You’re early,” Rafe said as he came close then took the container from her hands. “I wanted to meet you by your car. You shouldn’t be lugging this load all the way up here.”

“Oh, please,” she said, flexing her arms. “What do you think I have all these muscles for?”

Rafe looked at her arms and then he whistled. “Looking good. Toned, firm. I can see that you work out.”

She chuckled, a bit embarrassed at his admiration. “I try.”

Then he took the pressure off when he jerked his head toward a shady tree where a colorful quilt was spread out. “Come on. That’s our spot. Take a load off.”

And so, with Rafe leading the way, Anya set off toward the venue of her very second date with him. Was this only the second one? She was beginning to feel so comfortable with him it was like she’d known him months and not just a few days.

As they got to the tree and Rafe deposited the cooler on top of the cloth Anya looked around. “So where are your friends?” she asked. “Scared of little ol' me?”

Rafe laughed. “I wish. They’re getting the food from the car. They’ll be over in a little while. Too soon, if you ask me.”

Anya shook her head. “Meanie. What kind of thing is that to say about your friends?”

Rafe was good enough to give her a contrite smile. “Put it down to jealousy,” he said quietly, almost seriously. “I don’t want to share you with anyone.”

That made Anya drop her eyes and pretend to pick a leaf off the leg of her jeans. Rafe sounded like he’d meant what he’d said and it made her just a little bit nervous. But he liked her. That much was obvious and she couldn’t have been happier.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, and when she plopped down on one end of the quilt he set the cooler in the middle then came over and sat right beside her.

Anya's lips curled in a smile. Talk about marking your territory. His friends wouldn’t be able to get close to her even if they tried.

She jumped when Rafe leaned in close and fixed his gold-flecked eyes on her. “So tell me all about Anya Petersen,” he said. “Tell me everything before those nosy parkers get back.”

Not knowing where to start, Anya gave a nervous laugh. “I thought I told you everything when we went to lunch.”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “You only scratched the surface.” Then, as if to reassure her, he gave her a crooked smile. “What I know about you could fit in a nutshell. You’re a schoolteacher, you’ve been at your job two years and you love what you do. Your English is perfect because your mother is American and still lives in New York and your father, who is German, lives in Bonn. Your parents are divorced, you’re an only child, and you grew up shuttling between the east coast and Europe, taking turns with each parent.” He paused to draw breath. “Did I miss anything?”

She chuckled. “No, you pretty much covered everything. There’s not much more to tell outside of that.”

He gave her a smile that told her he didn’t believe it but then he tilted his head even closer and looked at her with hooded eyes. “Is there a secret Anya Petersen I should know about?”

That made her laugh out loud. “You make me sound so mysterious. It’s like I could have a secret life full of intrigue.” She shook her head. “Trust me, I’m as boring as they come.”

He didn’t answer but she could see that he wanted to say more. In fact, he looked like he wanted to do more. A whole lot more. Rafe was looking at her like he wanted to kiss her.

And, as out of character as that would be for her, she would not mind at all if he did.

Maybe she had the power of telepathy or maybe he could read minds, she didn’t know which. All she knew was, at the same time her body tilted involuntarily toward Rafe, he was leaning toward her, too.

Feeling like she was moving in slow motion, almost like she was in a dream, Anya didn’t stop tilting until her face was mere inches away from Rafe’s. Then, of their own accord, her eyelids closed. She held her breath, waiting for his next move.

As her body yearned for his touch Anya sensed Rafe moving closer, closing the gap between them. And then so softly, so gently, his lips touched hers. Like the caress of a butterfly’s wing, his lips brushed against her lips, sending a tantalizing thrill racing through her. She sighed.

As if taking the soft sound as invitation, Rafe’s tentative touch became bolder and he leaned in even closer, taking full possession of her lips, kissing her as if, for the longest time, he’d been dying to do just that.

Melting against him Anya moaned and lifted her hands to clasp his shoulders, steadying herself, clinging to him as he swept her away with his expert kiss. When moments later he drew back, it was too soon. Unable to hide her disappointment she sighed and lowered her face. Her hands sliding off his strong shoulders, she clasped her fingers in her lap and finally opened her eyes.

When she did, it was to find him gazing down at her, his lips curled in a mischievous smile. “That kind of kiss,” he said softly, “was not a kiss from a woman I’d call boring.” His smile deepened. “It left me wanting so much more.”

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