Nata

Phillip must read the reaction on my face because he lifts his hand in front of him in defense. "Dad knows we plan to have a kid and wants to get to know the mother of his future grandchildren."

I rub away the tension in my chest. "Grandchild. Singular."

"You know my powers of persuasion are vast." Phillip reclines on the counter behind him and scrapes his top teeth over his bottom lip. Intentionally. Because his gaze is that smoldering version he turns on when trying to affect people around him.

Knowing what he is doing should protect me from reacting. Should, but doesn't. My blood turns into warm honey in my veins. The pulse skitters under my palm. My legs shake and my head swims like I just finished a marathon. What would happen when he runs his hands across my body? Or his lips over mine? The air thickens around us, and my skin heats. This is not what I should be feeling. I need to nip in the bud this erroneous idea my libido has. I have to eradicate from my mind the desire for anything more than the mechanical approach to what we will have to do. He was very clear about what kind of future he's after. A partner to have a child with. Not a wife or even a girlfriend. There's only one agenda we agree on. "Let's take one step at a time." My voice is lower than I want it to be. I square my shoulders. "I've only signed up for one kid."

He lifts an eyebrow and breaks the tension with a genuine grin. "Hey, I'm joking. One kid"-he circles his eyes around the room-"at a time." He nudges my arm with his finger. I hear sizzling in my mind and step away. He continues, "You said yourself you want more than one."

"I don't want a football team." I cross my arms hoping they hide my body's reaction to him.

"Fine." He chuckles. "Tell me when you can go meet Dad."

I take my phone out. "Next two weeks are packed. But maybe after the conference?"

"When's that?"

The three-day conference that I'm flying to San Francisco for to present my current research sits next to the purple blocks that say ovulation in capital letters. "Shit," I mutter.

"It's not urgent-"

"We have a problem." I run my hand over my face and cover my eyes. With all the calendars and keeping track of everything I do, how did I not notice this? My heart beats in my ears. The idea that I could avoid discussing this topic with him in person vanishes.

Phillip steps next to me, his arm touches mine, as he removes my fingers off my eyes. "What is it? You can tell me everything. We'll figure it out," he says in a soft, caring voice that makes what I need to say next even more embarrassing. "Nata?"

The concern etched on his face rushes the words out of my mouth. "Nothing bad, but it messes up our sex plans."

"We have sex plans?" He tilts his head, and the spark of fire reignites in his gaze.

"I was going to text you about that." The pressure in my rib cage mounts with every syllable on the subject. This is normal stuff two adults who want to have a child together the old-fashioned way discuss. No reason for me to feel flustered about any of it, so I spit it out. "My ovulation is supposed to happen in two weeks, which means we should plan to have sex at least once a day during that window."

"Matches with what my research on the topic said." He nods as he creases his brow and purses his lips at the same time. The look on his face only pretends to be thoughtful.

I narrow my eyes. "I'm serious. We can't have sex if we are in two different cities."

"We can, but-"

I open my mouth to protest.

He presses his finger to my lips. "Not the version of sex that results in babies."

I hate the heat that spreads up my neck. I jerk his finger off my mouth. "This is not a joke, Phillip."

"I'll stay serious if you need me to." His eyelashes lower hiding his emotions, but the curve of his lips and the muscles ticking on his jaw give me a clue he's not on the same page as me about this issue.

We have an issue and wasting a month in our deal would be a disaster. We need to start now. I wrap my arms around my torso, turn away from him, and stare at the pool glimmering outside the window. "I can't miss the conference," I say in a low voice. "I was invited a year ago when I struggled to get a promotion. Presenting my research in front of everyone is a big deal." I sniffle. "It'll be the first time I talk to my peers as the head of the lab, and I know we are supposed to be-" I breathe the air through my nose. "...doing it." I chew on my lip. How precise is that ovulation window anyway? It's our first one. No one gets pregnant on the first try. It's a trial run we can chuck, anyway. I take a belly breath and follow it with a long exhale, sounding like a train putting on the brakes. "Maybe if we do it before and after, I can still get pregnant?"

"I didn't mean to upset you. It's not a big deal." Phillip's chest hovers near my back. His arms wrap around mine, settling me in a double hug. "I'll come with you," he says into the crook of my shoulder.

"You have your plate full." I rest the back of my head on his shoulder. The smell of cigarettes, cologne, and coffee wrapping my hammering heart in a calming blanket. "You just told me you have to take care of your dad, the company, and the internship-"

"For you"-he buries his nose in my hair-"I'll clear the agenda."

For me. My heart stutters. I close my eyes and catch myself before I start imagining things that are not happening. He means for the deal. I move out of his embrace pick up the cup half-way filled with coffee. "Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't offer if I weren't." His voice is sharp, like my question offended him.

"Thanks." I pour the milk froth on top, not trying for a design, concentrating on my hand not trembling. "I'll send you the information. I already have a hotel and a flight booked. Kate is coming as well, so we'll be rooming together."

Phillip plates the food and pops into the microwave the dishes heaped with samples from every container he found in the fridge: sausages, scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes. "Could you send Dustin the details so he can book my room at the same hotel?"

"Yeah." I sip my coffee as I type the information he asked me for to Dustin and hit send. "Thanks."

"You should not be thanking me for-" He presses his lips together and shakes his head. The microwave beeps and he removes one plate, placing the second one in. "What about meeting Dad?

I flinch. Even the conversation about planned sex and ovulation didn't get him off the subject of introducing me to his dad. Meeting the parents is as far from the activities I'm interested in as possible. I haven't met Samson's mom till we've moved to Chicago, and we've been together for five years by then. I could've gone another five without meeting her. I hope Phillip's obsession with introducing me to his father doesn't mean he expects me to introduce him to my folks.

"Wouldn't it be awkward?" I wrinkle my nose at him, hoping he sees I'm not enthused by the idea.

"Doesn't have to be." He takes the other plate out of the microwave, pulls utensils out of the drawer below, and takes both dishes to the other side of the counter that shows two bar stools under a hanging lip of the countertop. "You'll love Dad. Everyone does. It's the curse of the Van der Heuvel male line." The up and down of both of his brows finally draws that smile he's been trying to coax out of me today.

Apparently, the roguish charm runs in his blood. None of the charm from either of my parents transferred to me. I'm the anti-charmer of the family. Hard to make people like you when you say what you mean instead of saying what they want to hear. "Will he like me, though?"

Phillip scoffs and perches at one of the stools. "If I like you, he'll like you too." He shovels a forkful of scrambled eggs and chews.

"You like me?" I blurt. Gooey warmth spreads across my clavicle, the pulse punctuating the seconds.

"Very much so." His eyes go wide, and he nods enthusiastically, so his hair flops onto his forehead. "I've always liked you, since the first tutoring session when you said that if I try to flirt my way out of studying, you'll drop me because you had other students on the list who actually wanted your help."

My barely-there smile transforms into a proper wide one. "I was bluffing. You paid me more than anyone else. I needed your money."

"Oh, I knew you were bluffing." Phillip moves the stool next to him away from the counter and waves me over to sit. "But you sounded so strict and in a cute way, and you cared that I got the material, instead of completing the assignments for me like my previous tutors."

"I wasn't your first?"

"You were my last hope." Phillip sneaks a glance at me. "I couldn't resist not liking you."

He hid it well. I knew I was doing my job well every time he passed his exams with a better grade than before. Yet he never smiled at me the way he smiled at other girls. He never invited me to his frat parties or gave me more than a raised chin when we ran into each other on campus. Not that I expected him to ask me out, but I did have a vision of a friendship that extended beyond our tutoring time together. It never did.

"Well, I won't be tutoring your father." I move my stool as far away from him as possible to avoid any accidental touching and climb onto the brown leather seat. "I won't have a chance to charm him with my strictness."

"Haha." Even though there's no physical contact between us, his laugh sends goosebumps down my arms. I rub them and focus on the feel of the metal rod of the stool under my feet instead of the longing in my heart. Phillip leans sideways and bumps my shoulder with his. "I think Dad and you'll find more common ground than you think. He's the actual scientist in the family. He also happens to be an excellent businessman. I didn't inherit any one of those traits." Phillip's tone grows pensive.

"You like what you do and have done well for yourself." Phillip might now be the brilliant scientist his dad expected him to be, definitely not smart in the same way as Samson, who got awards and recognition for his work in the field. In my research of Phillip's life and career, he seems to be the face, not the brain of VdH. He interfaces with other companies, presents awards, appears in the videos on their website, shakes hands with volunteers, and smiles like he knows he looks good doing it.

I bite the inside of my cheek. Being the face of the company is not a thing I could ever be, yet it's a job someone has to do. I sip my coffee and watch him eat. This close, without the fancy suits or cameras around him, he still shines with an inner light that I've seen him emanate the first day I met him. I shrug. "I'm nothing like my parents. At least, I try not to be. We don't have to be their mini-copies."

"We're on the same page on this topic." Phillip's plate is empty while I haven't touched mine. "Want to see the rest of my place when you're done?"

"Absolutely."