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He had to force himself not to react to that. "Are we?"
"Yes, dammit." Her golden-brown eyes flashed as she went to get bowls. "We shouldn’t have been put into this position." Slamming the bowls down on the counter, she opened a drawer to take out a ladle.
"I’m married to my career. I don't care what Mom, or anyone else says, I love being alone. I do better alone. I’m selfish and self-absorbed, how the hell am I going to pay attention to a kid?"
She dumped the beef stew into the bowls and slid one over to him. "When I’m writing, I’m in another world, wrapped up in my characters and plots. I barely remember to eat." Plopping down on the stool, she glared at him. "Say something."
"Oh, I thought you were talking for both of us." He responded dryly as he took a sip and swallowed. "This is amazing."
"Yeah, thanks." She waved away the compliment in her own distracted way. "It's not fair to ask us for a favor of that magnitude."
"I’m in if you are." He told her lightly.
"Why?"
"I’m thirty and I need an heir."
"You have women falling all over themselves to be with you. I’ve seen all of the articles. 'Son of multi-billionaire investor out on the town with such and such.’”
"Our parents need this."
"Yeah" She stared into her bowl moodily. "Mom gave me a hell of a guilt trip and I can’t say no."
"It might not be that bad."
"It’s going to stifle your social life."
"I don't have one and neither do you." He pointed out.
"If we go through with this, I’m not doing it alone." She warned.
His emerald eyes fired at that. "You think I wouldn’t be responsible enough to stand by you?"
"I don't know. Goddammit."
"You can always say no and be done with it."
She glared at him before hopping off the stool. "I’m not going to break her heart, so, we’re doing this."
"When?"
"Why did you think I invited you here?" She dug the spoon into the stew. "I’m ovulating."
"Oh."
"Yeah. We might as well start now, get it over and done with."
"It's not a death sentence and I happen to be an excellent lover. You just might enjoy it." He was stung and it showed.
"We’re not doing it for fun and you’re going to need to keep your ego in check. It's an inconvenience and I’m not feeling particularly romantic."
"Well, hell.” Picking up the wine, he drained the glass and poured some more. “Since you put it that way, why not just do it right here and go back to our meal?”
They glared at each other and Macayla was the first to relent. “I’m sorry."
"For what?"
"For making things worse."
