Page 91 of The Billionaire's Virgin

Chapter Twenty-Six

Taylor

“Ah, almost got you that time,” I yelled as Jenna zigzagged across the apartment in an effort to avoid me.

We had been playing tag for the last half an hour, and I was exhausted. But Jenna still hadn’t tired herself out yet, so I was forced to play until she did. Jenna giggled loudly, and I couldn’t help smiling at the sound. It was the most beautiful, lyrical melody that I had ever heard.

“I’m too fast,” Jenna said, running behind the sofa.

“You are too fast,” I agreed, panting and holding my side. “And you have way too much energy.”

“That’s because I eat all my carrots,” Jenna said, jumping up and down.

“True, you do eat all your vegetables.”

“Maybe you should eat more carrots?” Jenna suggested.

I smiled. “I don’t think it would help me much,” I laughed. “I’m too old for that to work.”

“No you’re not,” Jenna said. “You’re really young.”

“Why thank you for saying so,” I said, giving her a wink as I edged a little closer to her. “How old do I look to you?”

Jenna thought about that for a moment. “Fifteen?”

I laughed. “Well that’s a relief,” I said. “I’m glad I look so young.”

I pounced, trying to grab her but she squealed and danced out of my grasp. She ran around the dining table and then into the living room again before I had a chance to catch my breath. I decided to just go for it so I scaled the couch and ran at her. Jenna screamed with delight, and I managed to get a hold of her.

“Aha!” I screamed. “Got you!”

Jenna and I fell to the floor laughing out loud. “Yay,” Jenna crowed. “That was fun.”

“That was fun.” I nodded. “But I think it’s time for a break; what do you think?”

Jenna nodded. “I’m thirsty.”

“Me too,” I said. “How about some orange juice, or would you rather have water?”

“Orange juice, please… and can I have cookies too?”

“I don’t see why not,” I said. “We worked hard baking them last evening.”

Reed had been in such a good mood after coming home from the police station that when Jenna had suggested baking cookies after dinner, he had agreed readily. We had spent a happy hour in the kitchen baking and eating lots of cookie dough and chocolate chips. It was wonderful to be with Reed and Jenna like that; there were moments when I could almost forget that I wasn’t actually Jenna’s mother. Most days, she felt like she was mine. Most days it felt like she had always been mine.

We went into the kitchen, and I put the cookie jar on the table so that Jenna could put them on a plate for tea. Then I poured out two tall glasses of orange juice and then we carried the plate and glasses to the dining table to eat.

Jenna grabbed a cookie the moment we were seated and she started munching on it thoughtfully. “Are they good?” I asked.

“So yummy.” She nodded, with a bright chocolate-covered smile. “You make the best cookies in the world.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I found the recipe when I was a little girl, but I burnt a fair few batches before I got them right.”

“No one taught you?” Jenna asked, in amazement.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “No one taught me. I taught myself.”

Jenna seemed shocked by that. “But… didn’t you have a mommy to teach you those things?”