One million dollars -- a dream come true for struggling college student Ashlynn Morgan. All she has to do is sign on the dotted line and agree to become surrogate mother for CEO multi billionaire Felix Dunnerson and his wife Deborah.
Yet, during th...
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Staring at the questionnaire that is being held on the clipboard with a silver clasp, I sigh. "They want to know when I had intercourse last?" I glance at Felix, cursing the slight tingle in my cheeks. Usually, guys don't rattle me this easily.
"So?" The twitch on his lips is plain evil. He leans back in the overstuffed chair with one leg crossed casually over the other with his focus remaining on the magazine he flips through as if all this doesn't concern him. It's almost like he has forgotten that he was just as eager a participant as I was during our rather wild night together.
"It might delay things if I tell them the truth." Despite willing myself to look away, my gaze strays to his hands. Imagining his fingers inside me drives the heat in my cheeks to the rest of my face.
Get a grip, girl.
It helps to suppress the unwanted thoughts. He's still a married man and there can never be more between us.
"Don't worry, I'll take care of it."
The twitch on his lips has turned into a smirk; I can't believe he finds this funny.
"And how are you gonna do that without telling them the truth?"
"We used protection, so it shouldn't matter." When the nurse approaches, the smirk is replaced by a beaming smile.
"Are you ready for your procedure, Mr. Dunnerson?"
"I sure am." With one wink at me, he rises and places the magazine on the table. "Lead the way."
The nurse whisks him away and I focus back on the questionnaire. My teeth torture my lip as I search through my mental knowledge bank from health class. It's pointless. There's no way the conservative bitch in my school would've taught us if a physician can tell if I had sex five days ago. Writing 'one month' onto the line, I decide to take my chances.
The next questions are easier; I'm just replacing the cap on the pen when a young woman in scrubs enters.
"Ms. Morgan?"
I force a smile. "That's me."
"I'm Doctor Lester. Please follow me."
She ushers me along the hallway into an office that holds a certain elegance without the typical vibe of a doctor's office. The polished desk is made out of a dark fine wood and the overstuffed chairs look incredibly comfortable. After I sit down, I twitch while Dr. Lester's reads over the questionnaire. My heart pounds like crazy in my chest; I've never been a convincing liar and will probably get caught.
Dr. Lester goes through my medical history, circling with a red pen the day of my last period. After I give verbal confirmation to most of the questions, she is ready to proceed with the most intrusive test—my pelvic exam.
It's something I have always dreaded. As I lay on my back with my legs spread apart by stirrups, she digs around in my insides and presses on my bladder in a way that urges me to pee. Her fingers slide in deeper and I squirm on the cold metal table. When our eyes meet, my cheeks burn. There's no doubt she knows about the intercourse. Why on earth did I ever lie to her?
