I threw him another stiff glance.
“So?” I asked, completely embarrassed to be talking about my body with a powerful alpha male. “So what?”
Mason looked away for a moment before turning back to gaze hungrily at my curves, that hot gaze running up and down, making me tingle
“Well, my best scientists say that women with bodies like yours have the best chance of bearing children. And your breasts honey, they look like they could suckle twins, they’d be so full of milk.”
By now my face was flaming and I could barely speak, chest tight, heart racing.
“But why?” I asked in a whisper. “Why does it matter?”
“It means that you’d be good fiancée material,” he answered smoothly. “You know, the baby-making type.”
The air whooshed out of my lungs, breasts heaving up and down even as my insides grew weak.
“You’re looking to have a baby?” I parroted in a whisper. “And I’m your baby mama?”
With a careless shrug, Mason threw me another glance.
“Sort of,” he acknowledged. “We need a fake fiancée, someone to convince the family that I’m serious about getting married. You know, that I’m a responsible family man, yadda yadda yadda. It sucks because I’ve been running Major Corp. successfully for twenty years, but that damned piece of paper was written way before that. So yeah, I need a fiancée.”
I gasped again.
“But why me?” I said in a low voice, barely able to control the tremor in my tone. “I don’t get it. What is all this about female fertility and ripeness?” The words were dry on my lips and I blushed just saying them.
The big man shrugged.
“We’ve analyzed your body using the best computers, baby, the best programs, and with the way you’re built, you’ll have no problem convincing the public that you’re pregnant.”
My jaw literally dropped open, I was so shocked.
“So let me get this straight,” I said slowly. “You’ve had cameras watching me for the last year, tracking my every move as I strode through the halls of the union Art League.”
“And in every classroom,” he added helpfully. “And at Ninth Street Espresso.”
I shook my head, barely able to process the information.
“And after watching my every move, you fed the tape into computers, which determined that I was fertile,” I continued slowly. “From things like the size of my boobs,” I almost choked.
“That’s right,” he nodded with a gleam in his eye. “Not just that honey, but a host of factors. The way your hair is shiny and thick and your skin’s clear. Don’t ask me,” he said shrugging again. “The scientists do it, they know what to look for, and based on their analysis, you’re the perfect candidate.”
I stared at him.
“But I could be infertile for any number of reasons, none of which would be on tape.”
“Nope, you’re not,” the big man bit out. “We have your health records. All the times you went to the school nurse for headaches? We took your blood and saliva and had it analyzed.”
This was now way too freaky and I stood up, holding out my wrists.
“Uncuff me,” I demanded. “I can’t believe this has been going on. There have to be laws against this. You can’t just spy on someone without them knowing. You can’t just access a stranger’s medical records.”
The alpha male shot me a glance, a lazy grin on his lips.
“But what if I am the doctor? What if I am the school? Security guards who work for me review video tape. Nurses who work for me look at medical records. Get where I’m going with this? Honey, I am the man. Nothing that happened is illegal.”
I shook my head desperately, mewling.
“It can’t be,” I breathed, holding up my cuffs. “This has to be illegal. No way you can just cuff a random girl and tell her you’re engaged. That has to be illegal.”
A grin spread across his face then.
“Okay, maybe the cuffs are a lot, so fine, I’ll take them off,” he rumbled, coming close again. And oh god, but the air grew warm as he advanced, my body responding instinctively. Masculinity rolled off Mason Major in waves, a spicy scent hitting my nostrils and making my insides gush.
But I hadn’t lost my sense of self-preservation. Because sensing an opportunity, I ran over to the door immediately, pounding on the hard oak.
“Help me!” I screamed, slapping my fists so hard they hurt. “Help, I’m trapped, I’m locked up by a maniac! Anyone! Anyone, call 9-1-1!”
Mason didn’t even budge from where he was.