Now he just felt ridiculous. Overexposed. Dylan stood up. “It’s not that big of a deal.” He fished around in a kitchen drawer for a corkscrew. Then he pulled two glasses down out of the cabinet. He really wanted a beer or a shot of tequila, but he’d settle for the wine. Alcohol in any form was better than none at all right at the moment.

Had he just actually offered to father Violet’s baby? And was he really starting to think there might be something to that whole love at first sight crap?

He turned, the glasses in his hand, and stopped cold, wine sloshing over the rims and onto his arm. Violet was just beautiful. She had taken off her glasses and was sitting with her legs tucked under her, hair flowing down over her chest covered in his white T-shirt. Tears streaked her pale cheeks and her green eyes glistened with moisture.

Maybe he did believe in that love at first sight crap.

And he really did want to give her a baby. Like, if he did one important thing in his life, this was it.

“It is a big deal,” she said. “And I don’t know how to say thank you. Or if I should even accept.”

Dylan handed her a wineglass, and drained the other one. “What, you’ll take Forgetful Frank’s sperm, but not mine?” And he had thought Mrs. Martin had taken a pot shot.

“Well…” She sipped the wine. “I’m not sure I really would have. And it was different. I was trying to talk Frank into it. I might have felt guilty if he had offered. Not that that makes any sense.”

“You don’t have to feel guilty. I’m a big boy. I know what I’m doing. I want to do this.” She was going to use his sperm, damn it, or no one’s at all.

Violet stared at him, squinting a little without her glasses. Then she took his hand and squeezed. Moved in a little closer. Brought her mouth very, very close to his.

“Then I’m just going to say thank you, Dylan Diaz. This means the world to me.”

“You’re welcome.” He had a lump in his throat. A big-ass kneecap-size lump. Maybe he was hungry. “Should we order some dinner? And I can throw your bathing suit in the dryer.” Since he was hoping to get her out of her clothes immediately anyway.

“In a minute.” Violet pressed her hands to his chest, her breasts brushing along his arm. “First I’m going to wish you a very happy birthday,” she whispered. “And finish giving you your birthday kisses.”

Maybe she was merely acting out of gratitude, but Dylan couldn’t bring himself to give a shit. “Sounds good to me.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Violet covered him with her lips, her movements not exactly smooth, but enthusiastic. Mmm, she was doing a little tongue thing, flicking it back and forth.

Then she bit him.

Holy crap, he felt the force of that through every inch of his horny body. His cock jerked in his bathing suit and he gave a moan of approval. Her tongue tentatively dipped into his mouth and Dylan lowered his hands, further, further until he was cupping her ass in the still damp bikini.

She had an incredible body, which brushed against him soft and lush, sparking desperate lust in him with every touch. Her breathing quickened. His hands gripped harder, bumping her against his thigh. Her lips were sweet from the wine and her skin cool, and he was hotter than hell.

After a long seductive minute, she broke the kiss off, much to his profound disappointment.

Dylan sucked in a breath and ran his thumb over her ass. “That was nice, baby, real nice. And that was number four, remember. You’ve got to go all the way to twenty-eight.”

She licked her lips. “That could take a while.”

Amen to that.

“Uh-huh. No rush. We’ve got all night.” And he was going to just ignore that bullshit about her not liking sex. She sure in the hell reacted to him like she enjoyed sex. And he’d be willing to bet his left nut Frank sucked in the sack.

They might need some practice before they tried the whole conception thing. A couple of weeks to learn each other’s bodies before they went for the gold. Though the idea of dragging it out for months and months held some appeal, Dylan thought better of it. He didn’t want her to be worrying the whole time. Better to hit a home run right off the first pitch.

“Are you busy tomorrow?” she asked, moving away from him to set her neatly folded glasses down on the coffee table.

“I have a plane to catch in the afternoon. Four-game series against the Yankees. But I’m free in the morning.” They could stay up all night practicing their conception technique, then sleep in late.

“I’m asking because, well, I’m actually ovulating right now.” Violet’s back was to him, but he could practically hear her blush. “So I thought, maybe…”

Hot damn. That was all he needed to hear.

Dylan shucked his shorts off and patted his lap. “Let’s go then.”

Violet turned around and nearly fainted. Dear God in heaven, he was naked.

“What are you doing?” she shrieked, clamping her eyes shut. The sight was so distracting, she couldn’t think. “Why aren’t you wearing any clothes?”

“It kind of works better that way.” He sounded amused. “Now come over here.”

Violet opened one eye. Holy cow. She’d never seen a man that gorgeous in person before. Her experience with male nudity was limited to skinny, quiet types, and the naked hottie e-mails Trish sent her. Dylan qualified as a naked hottie. He was hard and big. Everywhere.

“What works better that way?” And he was crazy if he thought she was getting anywhere near him. That thing looked like a lethal weapon.

Switching eyes, she spotted another tattoo on his hip, but couldn’t tell what it was without her glasses. There was suddenly spittle in the corner of her mouth. Oh, shoot, she was drooling.

And she didn’t think it was lake water that had her bottom damp.

“Making a baby. It’s easier without clothes on. So let’s take yours off, too.” He stood up and took a step towards her.

Violet opened both eyes in shock. “You mean make a baby by having sex?” Where the heck had he gotten that idea from?

He stopped walking. “Is there another way?”

“Yeah! I was thinking we could stop by my fertility doctor’s office tomorrow and they could withdraw a sample from you.” Violet chanced a glance at his impressive penis. Artificial insemination was much simpler, though maybe not as interesting.

“Withdraw a sample?” Dylan’s jaw dropped. As did something else. “In the doctor’s office? How do they do that?”

“I think they sort of…electrically stimulate you and it comes out.” Come was probably a bad choice of words, but she didn’t think he heard anything past electrical.

Dylan stuck his hands on his head and rubbed his hair. “What? I don’t think so! Jesus, that sounds like torture.”

“It’s modern science. It’s the civilized way to handle this so there aren’t any entanglements. I told you I don’t like sex.”

“But we were making out! You liked that, didn’t you?” Now his hands were on his hips, feet apart, emphasizing just how broad he was. His catcher’s thighs were like steel beams and she was flustered, aroused, confused.

“Well, yeah, but…”

“But what? Listen, if we’re going to make a baby, we’re going to do this the way nature intended. I am not getting my dick zapped.”

That suddenly struck Violet as funny. She clamped her hand over her mouth, but a giggle came out. If it were her, she guessed she wouldn’t want to get electrically jolted either.

“That’s not funny. It’s a horror film, Vi. What if they move it a little too far in one direction or the other? They could do some serious damage. No, I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I really want to do this for you, but no can do on the clinic, senorita.”

She laughed louder.

“Stop laughing.” But he was already grinning. “Well, this is a hell of a misunderstanding, isn’t it?”