Once Upon a Pregnancy. Judy Duarte

seeing the way Mike had looked at her was enough to make her lose her head and pretend to be someone else.

      And as he’d taken her hand and led her from the party and out of Peter’s house, she’d wondered if the night air would have the same effect on her as the clock striking midnight had on Cinderella.

      But it hadn’t.

      Overhead, the wintry sky was adorned with a million twinkling stars. And all around them, crystal flakes glistened on the banks of fresh-fallen snow.

      When they’d reached Mike’s Jeep, he’d drawn her into his embrace. Then he’d tilted her chin and lowered his mouth to hers. She should have stopped it right there, but her pulse and her hormones had been pumping like a runaway steam engine, and she’d been lost in the magic of the heated moment.

      The first tentative touch of his lips to hers had quickly intensified into a mind-spinning, knee-weakening kiss.

      If she closed her eyes, she could imagine it still, the way his tongue had swept into her mouth, stealing her senses and making her ache for more.

      Her physical reaction, which had bordered on wild and wicked, at least for someone as staid and conservative as she was, had merely been a result of lust and alcohol.

      Still, whether she liked admitting it or not, something deep inside her was moved by Mike’s charm and flattered by his crush on her. So when he’d driven her home, she’d thrown caution to the wind and continued to play the role of a princess at the ball. And for the next few hours, she’d pretended to be a woman who always wore her hair swept up in a classic twist, someone who actually belonged in a sexy dress and spiked heels.

      But it wasn’t a game she would continue to play. Not with a guy like Mike, who wanted so much more than a one-night fling. And not when the kind of commitment he wanted would lead to love and marriage, which was more than Simone could—or would—give to anyone.

      Too bad she hadn’t been able to get Mike to believe that.

      Yet, in part, she could understand why.

      On the night they’d made love, she hadn’t had any of her usual intimacy issues, so the sex had been incredible.

      In fact, they’d made love until they’d run out of condoms, and she’d lost count of the climaxes she’d had.

      But as the morning sun began to peer through the slats of the miniblinds, Simone had awakened, the sheets tangled at their feet and the scent of lovemaking in the air.