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A wide array of windows let in ample amounts of light. One of the tables had a nice spread of pastries and other treats, as well as coffee and tea. There were a few water bottles as well. I grabbed a cup of coffee and sat at the table, trying to get myself comfortable.
Anxiety felt like it was drilling into the backs of my eyeballs. For the sake of the goddess—I was black ops in retirement. I didn’t get nervous, because I always had a plan, and a backup plan, and another backup plan.
But this was new for me. I didn’t know how to navigate it.
Especially when Anita walked into the room.
Nothing could have prepared me for her curves, under loose blue jeans and a short blouse with a cat print. She wore black heeled boots, silver rings, and a silver necklace with a moon pendant. Her blouse fit snugly over her bosom as she hugged a fleece lavender coat to her chest.
Blush bloomed on her cheeks as those honey-brown eyes sparkled with interest upon seeing me. She stopped a few feet short of the table. “Liam?”
“You’re Anita.”
I stood abruptly and held out my hand. Closing the space between us came naturally, like I was the proper magnet to match her. When she took my hand, she squeezed it confidently, tilting toward me with a bright grin.
Well, she could have knocked me out with the way she looked up at me through heavy lashes. Did she greet everybody like this? I sure as hell hoped not.
After releasing her hand, I pulled out a chair, watching her procure a tote bag from under her coat and rest the coat over the back of the chair. I sat across from her with my coffee, trying to figure out what to say.
She peeked over my shoulder and licked her lips. “Are those scones?”
Without hesitation, I dashed to the table and grabbed two scones and a bottle of water, setting them in front of her. She bowed her head, a lock of onyx hair falling over her eyes. My fingers itched to move it out of the way. Her smooth skin was only interrupted by those damn dimples. Did she know how cute they were?
I cleared my throat and sat back down, drumming the table with my right hand. And then my left. And then my right again. “So, what made you want to be a surrogate?”
“I’d be lying if I didn’t say the pay was appealing.” She picked at her scone for a second, rubbing some of the crumbsbetween her fingers. “But I also have impeccably great eggs, apparently. I thought I’d put them to use.”
I nodded. “What are your ethics like?”
She went still. The only part of her that moved was her eyes as she met my gaze. “What do you mean?”
“Right versus wrong. Would you do something illegal if it was the right thing to do?”
“That’s certainly a question.”
I lifted my coffee to salute her with it. “Now you see my dilemma in picking a surrogate.”
“Have you interviewed that many before me?”
“No, you’re the only one I’ve chosen.”
Crimson danced over the bridge of her nose. Could she blush any brighter? I sipped my coffee quietly, trying to focus on the task at hand. Which was to get to know her personality and lifestyle rather than what else would make her blush.
Though I was tempted to try again.
Anita took a careful bite of her scone, chewed thoughtfully, and then leaned her chin into her hand after she swallowed her food. “What made you pick me?”
“Your eyes.”
Stunning as they were when they widened, I knew I had again blurted something that was probably inappropriate for the situation.
Close relations with surrogates was highly discouraged, as outlined by Patricia. Too many things could go wrong. The fact that I could meet Anita and interview her was a condition set in the contract I’d signed downstairs. Nothing more.
But seeing as it made her blush again—“I just mean to say that your eyes tell me you’re a kind person.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
What should have been a free pass on an awkward statement made me want to know who else was talking to her. “How do you feel about kids?”
