#Babymachine (Baby Crazy 1)

Beth. How beautiful. Simple yet elegant, holy and dirty at once. Wasn’t there a Saint Elizabeth who gave birth to Jesus’s cousin?

“Pleasure meeting you, Beth.” I let my tongue linger on her name. “Thanks again for your assistance.”

“Happy to help,” she said with another shy smile. “Let me know if you need anything else,” she murmured before returning to her desk.

I watched that departure every step of the way. My gaze was hot, and like she could feel it, the girl paused slightly to glance over her shoulder.

Oh god.

The sweetness in that gaze was overwhelming, pure innocence shining like a ray of sunshine.

The only problem was that I didn’t deserve that innocence. I don’t deserve goodness, peace or tranquility. I’m a dark motherfucker, one who takes what he wants, no questions, no compromises ever. I come, I see, I conquer … and Beth was going to be mine.

CHAPTER THREE

Beth

I flicked on the light by the door of my apartment, breathing hard.

Damnit. Must be the bulb. I should call my super.

But that would mean going back down five stories of stairs.

Noooo!

Because my fifth floor walk-up is bad. It’s fifty steps up and down every time I take out the trash, or do laundry in the basement. Every time I want to pop outside for a snack, or just drop by the drugstore, there was all that up and down.

Uck.

Some people would love it, scampering up the steps, arguing for the benefits of exercise.

Not me.

I’m a curvy girl, and while I like to stay in shape, it’s more about taking a stroll around the neighborhood or walking my neighbor’s dog Floofy. The thought of getting on an elliptical trainer or exercise bike filled me with dread. What do people think about when they’re on those things? Do they feel like rats, scampering endlessly in a cage? Uck.

But here I was now, with no light.

And going back downstairs was out of the question.

Darn it. The bulb had flickered last night, but hung on by a thread. On my way to work, I tried to remind myself to go to the store for a new one, but it’d completely slipped my mind. It was the tall and handsome stranger who’d come in the library looking for books. He’d distracted me, it was his fault.

I blushed at the thought of the commanding man, glad for the darkness although nobody was there in my little apartment to see my red face.

Feeling around blindly, the keys jingled when I dropped them on the bookshelf. Slowly, slowly. Carefully, my hip bumped a piece of furniture, probably my gram’s rocking chair. And finally, I was in the kitchen. At least the kitchen light worked fine, and the bright halogen glare flickered on, making me squint.

Uck, everything was green.

At least that’s what it looked like in the flouresence, shadows dancing on the walls.

But I sighed. It’s just a byproduct of apartment living. We don’t have much natural sun, so everything takes on the greyish-green hospital tinge at all hours.

But at least the kitchen was clean and neat, just like I left it this morning. My stomach rumbled with hunger and I poked it ruefully. Be quiet, came my admonition. It was going to be ramen tonight. Again.

Although I already knew it was empty, I opened the fridge. Maybe I should pray for a miracle like the Virgin Mary’s baby. Or for the tall stranger at work to notice me again.

But it was going too far. That guy was so out of my league, and even if he wasn’t, there was no way I’d mess up my perfect job by trying to date someone who worked at Carlton Corporation. Where else could I work and be around books all the time, with barely anybody bothering me?

No place, that’s where.

So yeah, I’ve got to count my blessings.

Because not only was the job perfect for a bookworm like me but as a part-time gig, I was able to keep going to the community college not far from my apartment. One day, if things went the way I planned, I’d go to a regular college and major in English. My dream is to graduate with a mortar board on my head, and a treasured piece of paper in my hand.

Besides, there was something about going to work every day in that big and beautiful library that made my dreams feel even closer. Maybe it was because the CEO of Carlton Corp. was a self-made billionaire who’d started from nothing and climbed his way all the way to the top. Maybe some of that would rub off on me.

Maybe.

I laughed aloud at the thought of someone as big league as Mason Carlton being an inspiration for my tiny dream.

Yeah, right.

He was a king, riding in a chariot in the clouds.

By contrast, I was a mouse, tucked in between the aisles, swept beneath the rug.