#Babymaker (Baby Crazy 2)

Which leads me to the interesting part of my practice. Propaganda these days is so powerful, and women are continually bombarded with messages that they better have their kids earlier rather than later otherwise risk missing the boat. It’s crazy. I’ve had women come in who are as young as eighteen. They’ve never had a boyfriend before, and yet they’re already all worked up about their fertility, and beg me to do something for them just in case they meet the right guy. Completely batshit, off-the-wall behavior, but I usually just put them on pre-natal vitamins to assuage their fears. Vitamins never hurt.

So casting one last glance at my beautiful patient, I wrapped up my spiel.

“Thank you for coming,” was my low rumble as I made eye contact with every female there. “I appreciate your time on this rainy Thursday night.”

The ladies sighed and began to gather their things when my trusty receptionist Kathy stepped forward.

“Thank you,” she echoed in a professional tone. “Before you leave, ladies, I wanted to present the opportunity to meet with Dr. Roman to discuss your concerns. It’s just a ten minute private one-on-one to talk about some of the issues on your mind. We have sign-ups right here,” she said, waving a clipboard. “If you’ll just give me your names, I can start taking names asap.”

Of course, the aggressive blonde girl was on it in a moment.

“Me and my friend,” she said, nodding at the curvy brunette. “Ashley and Connie.”

“Perfect,” said Kathy, noting their names. “The first appointments are right now, in fact. Would you like to go in?”

“Oh sure,” jawed Ashley, shooting a meaningful glance at her buddy. “You go first Con. I’ll wait out here, and then after we’re both done, maybe we can get a drink at a bar nearby.”

The brunette blushed while shooting me a look from the corner of her eye.

“So soon?” she stammered. “I didn’t have my thoughts ready, this is all so new.”

“Don’t worry,” said Ash. “Just tell the doc the things you’re concerned about. I’ll be right out here, and then we can leave.”

Connie’s eyes flickered to me again, trailing over my hard male form before she bit her lip.

“Okay,” was her low murmur. “It’s nice to meet you Dr. Roman.”

I smiled, my lips curving even as my eyes flared with heat.

“It’s nice to meet you too. Connie, was it?” I asked, extending my hand. “I’m Chase Roman.”

As our palms touched, electricity sparked between us. It was as if all the oxygen in the room suddenly whooshed out, leaving my lungs straining for air. The world narrowed until it was just me and her, our eyes locked in a tell-tale dance.

But we were interrupted by my receptionist.

“Dr. Roman, I’ve put bottled water in your office,” said Kathy. “You can take the meeting in there.”

“Perfect,” I growled, staring at Connie. “After you,” was my smooth invitation as I opened the door to the offices in back. And as the plump girl walked before me, my eyes followed the sway of her hips, that giant ass bobbing up and down with every step. Shit, she’d really make a perfect mother, and my mind churned with the possibilities. Because I’ve wanted to be a dad for a long time now … and maybe this fertile girl was the answer.

CHAPTER THREE

Connie

Oh my god, what was happening? I bit my lip as Dr. Roman led me down the hall to his office.

“In here please,” the big man said, gesturing to a plushly-appointed space. “Take a seat and make yourself comfortable.”

I looked around with some hesitation because this was the nicest doctor’s office I’d ever been in. Instead of shabby furniture and bookcases filled with assorted pictures of kids, instead Dr. Roman’s office was gleaming and organized. Large mahogany furniture filled the space, the type of stuff that cost thousands at the store. Beautifully framed diplomas hung on the wall, each one bearing the name of a fancy school or some professional accreditation. He was pretty much the opposite of me.

Because I didn’t go to anyplace you’ve ever heard of. Sure, I went to college, but it was tough from the very beginning. I’m the first person in my family to attend a four-year, and my parents were so excited when I got my admission letter.

“Honey!” squealed my mom. “You’ve made us so proud,” she said, giving my shoulders a squeeze.

I nodded, face flushed with happiness.

“I know,” I said, staring at the piece of cream paper. “It’s so amazing! I can’t believe they actually admitted me.”

My dad chuckled, his big belly shaking.

“Don’t say that, Con,” he said. “You’re smart as a whip and a hard-worker too. Who wouldn’t want you?”

So I basked in the glow of my parents’ approval, all three of us on Cloud Nine. But unfortunately, a week later, the financial aid letter came and that’s when my bubble was popped.