Secret Millionaire for the Surrogate

She laughed. “And fat, and sugar...but I love ice cream. It’s one of my secret vices.”

“You have more than one? I don’t believe it.”

Then she nudged him with her arm and he felt a warmth slide through him. He genuinely liked her so much.

“I have many. I keep them hidden.”

He looked at her again, gave her an assessing up-and-down glance and shook his head. “Nope. Still don’t believe you. You’re too sweet.”

She barked out an unladylike laugh and he couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear. They were still smiling when they looked both ways and scooted across the street to the Cows Ice Cream shop.

It was summer. There was a line.

But he didn’t mind. He watched as Harper scanned the flavor menu, her sunglasses now perched up on top of her head. It had been a long time since he’d enjoyed someone’s company so much. She wasn’t the type to expect expensive and intimate dinners and big romantic gestures. A cone of ice cream, or a walk in the forest... Harper was the kind of woman who appreciated little things.

Lately it seemed that anyone he tried to date within his business circle came with an expectation of... He frowned a little. Status? A certain standard? Whatever it was, it frequently left him feeling like they were interested in what he could provide rather than interested in him.

He wanted to think money hadn’t changed him, that it had just made things easier. Like this trip. He could stay in a hotel for two weeks at summer rates and not worry about maxing out a credit card. It didn’t mean he needed or expected five-star anything. Did he? Had he really changed over the years, as his success had grown?

He thought about his day-to-day life and realized he had lost touch with what

it was like to be...well, normal, for lack of a better word. Sure, financially he’d found it rougher in those days, but his success came with a price, after all, as much as he downplayed it. And that could be summarized in one simple word: responsibility. He was responsible to his shareholders, responsible for the people who worked with and for him. As the man at the top, sometimes it was hard to know whom to trust.

His lifestyle was nice, but being with Harper reminded him of the guy he used to be and had lost a little along the way. Easygoing, laughing more, up for a cone of ice cream as a special occasion.

“I’ll have a small Cowconut Cream Pie,” Harper ordered, then looked back at Drew. “And what are you going to have?”

Her voice drew his attention back to the task at hand. He really didn’t care, but he gave the flavors a cursory glance and replied, “Fluff ’n’ Udder.”

Harper giggled.

“These names are ridiculous,” he said firmly, but his lips twitched. “And I like peanut butter, so hush.”

They gathered their cones, Drew paid and they made their way back out into the sunshine again.

The ice cream was cold and rich and delicious, but it also melted fast so they put decorum aside and took substantial swipes with their tongues, catching it before it ran down the waffle cones. Once Harper looked over and snickered, then took her napkin and wiped a dot off his chin.

Their cones were almost gone when she took a bite of the waffle and it left her with a dollop of coconut ice cream on the spot where her upper and lower lip met.

He didn’t think, didn’t analyze, didn’t weigh pros and cons. He simply stepped forward and kissed it off, his lips lingering on the corner of her mouth as she froze in surprise. Then she let out a soft, gentle sigh, and he closed his eyes and slid his mouth ever so slightly to the right, kissing her properly while she responded sweetly, with a hint of hesitation and shyness.

She tasted so good, which had absolutely nothing to do with the ice cream. He lifted his hand and cradled her neck a bit as he briefly deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into her mouth, and then retreating, aware that they were in the middle of Banff Avenue and that Harper was not likely the PDA type. Neither was he, for that matter.

“Oh,” she said softly, and her confused blue eyes lifted to capture his.

“I should probably apologize,” he replied, his voice equally quiet. “But I don’t want to. Because that was—”

“Please don’t apologize,” she interrupted. A weak smile curved her lips. “I liked it.”

That bashful admission did more to fuel his libido than any R-rated proposition she might have whispered. He looked down and found peanut butter and chocolate ice cream dripping off his fingers. What a dangerous distraction she was turning out to be.

They dumped their cones in a nearby trash can and Harper reached inside her purse for a little pouch of glass cleaner cloths. “They’re not perfect, but they should get the stickiness off. I keep them for my lenses.”

They wiped their hands and then Drew reached down and twined his fingers with hers. “Are we okay? That was totally impulsive, but I don’t want to assume anything.”

Her cheeks coloured once more. “We’re okay,” she answered, giving his hand a squeeze and then sliding her fingers out of his. “It’s not like I haven’t thought about it.” She started to walk away.

He reached out and grabbed her arm. “Since when?”