Maybe Baby (43 page)

We sat astride a log; Trey sat behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. He leaned in to kiss the back of my neck. I shivered with pleasure.

“You’re giving me goose bumps Mr. Sinclair,” I said, trying my best southern drawl.

“Is that a bad thing, Ms. Preston?”

“Not when they’re from you,” I snuggled closer to him. My hands closed over his hands that were resting on my belly. We both felt the baby at the same time, stronger than before.

“I think he’s happy when we’re happy,” I said giggling.

“So it’s a ‘he’ is it?” Trey whispered against my neck.

“I’m kind of hoping we have a boy,” I admitted, “for you.”

“Why for me?” Trey asked. I could tell he was frowning.

“I thought all men wanted sons, you know, to hang out with, to follow in their footsteps, that sort of thing.”

Trey snorted, “I’ve always had the impression that sons were closer to their mothers; daughters to their fathers.”

“I guess I wouldn’t know about that,” I replied, shrugging.

“Be patient, Tylar. We may unravel the mystery of you yet.”

“Very nicely put, counselor,” I said, raising my hand to stroke his dimpled chin behind me. “Boy or girl, I want our baby to have this dimple.”

“You do, huh?” he whispered and kissed the back of my neck.

“What about you? Do you have a preference?”

“It makes no difference to me sweetie,” he said, nuzzling his face into my neck. “As long as we agree that he or she isn’t going to be an only child.”

I smiled at that. It was the perfect thing for him to say.

“Aside from Jack and Danielle, do you have any
other
names in mind for our child?”

I did have some names in mind, and I wanted to see Trey’s reaction when I told him. I turned around on the log to face him. I noticed his crotch was bulging. My eyes met his amused gaze.

“Really, Trey?”

“Oh come on, Tylar,” he laughed good-naturedly, “You’ve fucked my brains out the whole time we’ve been here. I'm spoiled now."

“Just so I’m the only one that gets to spoil you; it’s mine remember?”

“Of course,” he said, leaning forward and kissing the tip of my nose playfully, “now tell me the names you’ve picked out.”

“Okay,” I said, “I thought it might be kind of cool to name a boy after me and a girl after you.”

He cocked an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue.

“So if it’s a boy I want his name to be ‘Preston’ and if it’s a girl, ‘Treyla.’ What do you think?”

He momentarily considered those names and scooted forward on the log so our knees touched. He put both arms around me, scooting my backside closer.

“I think that this child had better be a boy.”

I could feel the grin on his face as he tried to stifle a chuckle. I pulled back, looking at his amused face. “What? You don’t like ‘Treyla’ for a girl?”

“I appreciate the thought, babe,” he conceded, “but she may grow up hating you for pinning a name like that on her.”

I was surprised he hated a name meant to honor him.

“Don’t be frustrated, you asked my opinion.”

“I know I did. You might've considered my feelings before trashing the name.” I pulled away and shrugged.

“Hey you,” he stood up, coming around in front of me. He pulled my arms up so that I was standing in front of him. His fingers gently lifted my chin up to meet his gaze. “Tylar, you name the baby whatever you want, okay? The only thing I ask of you is that the baby has my last name. Do you agree?” His gaze was penetrating. I nodded, my eyes tearing up yet again.

“That’s fine with me Trey,” I said softly.

“I'd also like for you to take my last name, but you’ve already made your opinion perfectly clear, so I won’t press that issue right now.”

I nodded again, putting my arms around him. I know that my mood swings had to be giving the poor guy whiplash.

“C’mon,” he said, his playful tone back, “let’s get you and me back on Derringer and head back up to the house. We need to get dressed for dinner.”

Later that evening, Trey was stretched across his bed watching football while I packed. I was careful to make sure he didn’t see the Christmas presents I’d bought for him. He was thoroughly distracted by the game. Zipping my new shoes, dresses, and underwear into my luggage, there was only one item left: my present from Gina from The Sextique Shop. I decided just to leave those items in their gift bag and I set it next to my suitcase, planning to pack it after my bath.

“Are you going to pack your stuff tonight?” I asked. “You’re staying longer and you’ll need more than what you brought down originally.”

“I’ll do it at halftime,” he said, not taking his eyes off of the flat screen.

Whatever.

I filled his sunken tub with coconut-scented bath foam and stripped off my clothes, grabbing a fresh towel and bath sponge from the cabinet, along with my razor and shaving gel. I settled comfortably into the warm, soapy water. I decided to turn the jets on to relax my muscles. I'd had quite a workout this weekend in many ways. The jets were quiet but powerful. I backed up to one of them and the powerful pulsating water hit my lower back.

Wow this feels pretty good.

I stayed there washing the rest of my body and then I sank down, putting my head underwater to rinse out my shampoo. When I came back up I had soap in my eyes.

Shit that stings!

I squeezed my eyes shut, heading over to the side to get the towel I'd placed there. The jet was still pulsating powerful streams of water. As I stood up on my tiptoes to grab the towel for my eyes I felt the pulsating water jets pound between my legs.

Oh my!

I stood there, wiping the soap out of my eyes feeling extremely pleasured down there. I spread my legs out just a bit opening myself up to the sensations of the water pulses.

Interesting.

Just then I heard Trey’s voice from the bedroom. “What the fuck is this shit?”

Hmmm…game must be going badly…

The bathroom door abruptly opened and Trey walked in, carrying my gift from Gina, unwrapped. Ha! It was a boxed dildo. He angrily stood over the tub, holding a box that said ‘Jack Rabbit Wallbanger W/Suction Cup.’ He leaned down and shut off the jets, shaking the water off of his hand as he stood back up, glaring.

“Did you buy this?” he asked sharply.

“No,” I answered honestly. “Gina bought it for me as an early Christmas present. Thank you for ruining my surprise.” I grabbed the shampoo from the edge of the tub and lathered my hair. Trey continued to gawk at me.

“May I ask why you were going through my stuff?” I asked, now feeling fairly pissed. I hoped this wasn't a preview of things to come once I moved to Atlanta. I cherished my privacy, and nothing was going to change that.

“Hey, I was just trying to see if you had room in your suitcase for some of my things. I didn’t know if you meant to pack this bag or what. I wanted to make sure it wasn’t breakable.”

“Well it’s not,” I answered turning away from him to rinse my hair. His expression went from pissed to confused.

“Did you say something to Gina to make her think I don’t satisfy you?”

“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. Why does this have to be about you?”

He eyed me warily as if he doubted what I was telling him. I wondered if all men thought they were the only mechanism for female orgasm. Trey acted like having a sex toy was an insult to his masculinity.

“What? Does it offend you?” I finally asked.

“No, I just wanted to make sure that well, you know, that I’m making you feel good.”

I softened toward him. He actually thought I could replace him with Mr. Jack Rabbit Wallbanger with a suction cup?

He helped me out of the bath, wrapping a towel around me.

“Maybe we could make love tonight after the football game is over?” I asked, my eyes searching his.

“
Fuck
the football game!” he said, drawing my toweled body to him. He pressed me against him intimately. “Ready to go to bed?” he asked huskily.

I smiled and nodded.

“Me too,” he said, taking me by the hand and leading me out of the bathroom.

Chapter 43

We got my house in Radcliff listed with a real estate agent who felt very strongly it would sell quickly..

I felt really good about my decision to go with Trey to Atlanta once he promised me at least a part-time job at his law firm. Gina was ecstatic when I called to let her know.

Trey’s apartment was located on West Peachtree in mid-town Atlanta. I knew that it would take me a while to get comfortable driving in a big city. He told me not to be overly concerned; he'd gladly take me anywhere I wanted.

It was dark when Trey pulled my Santa Fe into the parking garage of his apartment building. I'd been asleep for most of the drive. I awoke as soon as he cut the engine. Yawning and stretching, I looked around and spotted his Mercedes Benz Roadster in the next parking space.

Trey’s apartment was a pleasant surprise. I was worried his space would be contemporary and cold, all black, glass, and chrome. Yet, this was tasteful and had a warm feel. The floor of the foyer was ceramic tile done in a Tuscan pattern; the interior walls were stucco, with high ceilings and arched doorways. The flooring in the main living room and dining room was polished hardwood covered with gorgeous Persian rugs. The living room featured a fireplace with wall art that blended in nicely with his furnishings. The color scheme was predominately warm gold, brown, and russet. Curved windows rounded like a half-moon overlooked the lit skyline of mid-town Atlanta.

“Trey, this is breathtaking,” I commented, gazing through his window over Atlanta. He stood next to me, pulling me closer.

“I’m glad you approve. I think having you here will definitely make it complete.”

“Where’s my room?” I asked innocently.

Trey laughed, pulling me close to him. “Your room is wherever I am,” he said, “understand?”

I nodded. He took my hand, leading me down a hallway that was off the living room. One of the bedrooms had been made into his study. There was a guest bedroom next to the study that had an attached bathroom and walk-in closet. Trey’s master suite was obvious because of the double wooden doors that opened into it.

“Wow,” I said as he swung open the doors, “this is huge!” He had a king-sized bed that seemed almost small because of the room’s high ceilings. It was carpeted in plush hunter-green carpet with an ornately scrolled mahogany wardrobe against the wall next to the bed. There was a cozy sitting area in one corner of the room and two walk-in closets.

The master bath was even more elaborate than the one at the manor. It had a ceramic-tiled heated floor and antique light fixtures. There were marble columns on each side of the wide marble steps that led up to the sunken tub. Wall sconces created soft, romantic lighting.

“Where’s the kitchen?” I finally asked.

“It’s off the dining room as we came in. Are you hungry?”

“Maybe later,” I said, “I'd really love a bubble bath.”

“You go right ahead,” he replied, “you'll find everything you need in the bathroom.”

An hour and a half later I emerged from my soak, totally relaxed. I padded down Trey’s massive hallway in my silk PJs. He was on the phone in the study. I lingered at the doorway. He looked up and nodded for me to come in.

“Yes, I appreciate your getting back with me on a weekend, counselor. This is good news.” He rolled his chair back from the desk invitingly. I curled up in his lap as he wrapped up his call.

“Who was that on the phone?” I asked.

“Oh yeah, that was the assistant C.A. from Washington County. Everything is good to go on the plea agreement. No trial.”

I was greatly relieved. I never wanted to lay eyes on Charlie Roberts again. Trey stood me up and led me to the kitchen which was as impressive as the rest of his apartment. The floor was dark ceramic tile, the cupboards were light blond wood, the countertops were granite, and the appliances were stainless steel. A breakfast bar with a sink stood in the center.

“Have a seat, Ms. Preston. I’ll let you know what today’s specials are as soon as I figure that out,” he said, giving me a dimpled grin. Despite his humor, I could tell Trey was tired. He'd packed up my house, loaded the SUV top to bottom, and drove the whole way while I slept through the drive.

“Trey, I'd love a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

“Seriously?” he asked. “That sounds good to me too.”

We ate our sandwiches at the breakfast bar and talked about my new job. He'd already called the H.R. director at the firm while I was in my bath. I was set for Monday.

“What will my job responsibilities be?”

“I’ve no idea. I left that in the hands of Janice Landrick, my competent HR director. She’s expecting you at 9 a.m. sharp.”

“Will we be riding to work together?”

“Well, I usually leave for the gym at 6:30 and then shower and dress there. It’s in the same building as our firm.”

“Oh, I see,” I replied. I was curious as to how much Trey had shared with his H.R. director. “How exactly did you explain our relationship to Janice?”

“I didn’t,” he replied, stuffing the last quarter of his sandwich into his mouth. “Tylar,” he began in his serious lawyer-tone, “our relationship doesn’t exist when we’re at the firm. You wanted a job and now you have it.” He was looking at me expectantly, his eyes searching mine for some kind of confirmation.

“Ipso facto, counselor,” I replied, licking peanut butter seductively off of my fingers.

Later that evening, I was curled up in his massive bed while Trey showered. My mind was racing with questions. I still wondered exactly what Trey had told his H.R. director about our connection. Was I supposed to call him ‘Mr. Sinclair?’ I thought about Gina and Ian coming over tomorrow. When I gave her directions to Trey’s place, she commented that his doorman probably wouldn’t let riff raff like her past the entrance. I let Trey know they’d be visiting; his only reaction was an eye roll. I heard the shower shut off. Perhaps now that he'd taken a shower he would feel refreshed enough to answer some of my questions.

Trey emerged several minutes later, his hair towel dried damp, naked except for his drawstring pajama pants that were slung low on his hips. He flipped a switch on his sound system and the room filled with classical instrumental music. Trey climbed into bed with me, snuggling under the covers. I perched my head on my elbow to watch him get comfortable. He turned to me, catching my gaze.