Confessions of the World's Oldest Shotgun Bride by Gail Hart

was sure. She wasn’t wearing a bra. His cock responded, as she’d obviously intended, and he stifled a groan. She was doing a bang up job of torturing him.
    Seeing the smoldering look in her eyes, it took all his self-control to kiss her on the cheek instead of shoving his tongue down her throat and dragging her into the room. But he was more determined than she gave him credit for. Getting into her pants was too easy. He had his eyes on a bigger prize—getting into her soul. He wasn’t putting out physically until she put out emotionally.
    The restaurant he’d chosen sat on top of a duty-free shop facing the harbor. The breeze ruffled Katie’s skirt and tossed her thick curls as they climbed the outside stairs, his arm draped lightly across her shoulder. He sensed she wouldn’t like being held too closely or any other sign of possessiveness. She was a hundred pounds of strength and determination in a beautiful, feminine package. The combination was hotter than sin and totally irresistible.
    The hostess led them across the airy room, past a harried-looking thirty-something couple trying to control an ornery redheaded girl of about three, to a table by the picture window. They sat down side by side, and a few seconds later, were joined by a young waiter.
    After handing them menus, the waiter said, “The drink special tonight is a banana daiquiri.”
    Katherine smiled at the man. “That sounds great.”
    Her smile was too bright, and the waiter was too much the ruggedly good-looking, buff type women went for. Steve frowned. “That’s a girl’s drink.”
    She leaned against him, her breath on his neck teasing him. “And I’m a girl.”
    He’d walked right into that one. He squeezed her shoulder and spoke into her hair. “You sure are, sugar.” Turning back to the waiter, he added, “Okay, a banana daiquiri for the lady, and I’ll take a local brew.”
    “Would you like an appetizer?” the waiter asked.
    Katie looked at the menu, and an impish grin crossed her face. “Come here,” she said, gesturing to the waiter. The man moved to stand next to her and she whispered in his ear.
    Steve gave her a questioning look. “What are you up to?” Obviously no good.
    “I’m not telling.”
    He eyed the menu and took a shot. “The raw oysters?”
    “Oh, please. As if you and I need an aphrodisiac.”
    “What then?”
    “You’ll see.”
    Across the aisle, the redheaded child, who hadn’t stopped screaming for more than a few seconds since they’d sat down, let out a piercing shriek. Katie winced. “Little monster. I hate these yuppie parents who let their devil spawn ruin everyone else’s meals.”
    “I take it you don’t like children?”
    “I like them fine... in another room, out of sight and earshot.”
    Steve laughed. “So your biological clock isn’t ticking?”
    She rolled her eyes. “Bite your tongue!”
    “Seriously, haven’t you thought about having one of those of your own?”
    She shrugged. “Not really. I’m not the maternal type. I have no patience. I’d be a terrible mother.”
    “That’s not true. If you decided to become a mother, you’d be amazing. You’re always the best at everything you do.”
    She squirmed. “You’re still seeing me the way you did back home. You give me too much credit.”
    There she went again, using their age difference to put emotional distance between them. Screw that. His direct stare held a challenge. “No, you don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re terrific with kids. You were a great babysitter.”
    She looked away first. “Anyway, I never had to think about whether I wanted kids, since I never got married.”
    Deciding to let her change the subject, he wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Technically, getting married isn’t a prerequisite for having a baby.”
    She laughed. “It is for me. The execs at my firm are very old school. They’d shit a brick if I became an unwed mother. Besides, I’m a good girl. I never color outside the