Maybe Baby (29 page)

Read Maybe Baby Online

Authors: Andrea Smith

Tags: #Humorous, #Suspense, #Baby Lite Series #1, #Erotica, #Romantic Erotica, #Public, #Literature & Fiction

BOOK: Maybe Baby
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“May I help you?” she asked.

“Yes, my name is Tylar Preston. I’m here to see Trey Sinclair,” I stated as if I had every right to interrupt his day.

“Is Mr. Sinclair expecting you?” she asked.

I’m quite certain he’s not.

“I don’t have an appointment, no,” I responded.

She didn’t like me, I could tell. I didn’t care, I was here to say what I needed to say to Trey, and then leave. If he chose not to see me without an appointment, so be it. She picked up the phone and dialed Trey’s assistant.

“Yes, Tonya this is Debbie. There's a Ms. Tylar Preston at reception to see Mr. Sinclair. She doesn’t have an appointment.”

I waited, tapping my foot as if my time was far more important than any of theirs. I liked it. A few moments later Debbie got a look of surprise on her expertly made-up face.

“Oh, very well. Yes, I'll tell her. Thank you.”

She looked at me with a fake smile.

“Mr. Sinclair’s assistant will be with you momentarily to take you to his office. Can I offer you any refreshment, coffee, juice, or water?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” I replied.

Several moments later, as predicted, a young, impeccably dressed and coiffed brunette came to reception.

“Ms. Preston?” she asked, holding her hand out to me. “I’m Tonya, Mr. Sinclair’s assistant. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you, Tonya.”

“If you'll come this way, please.”

I followed Tonya down a wide marbled hallway that curved several times. There were rows of doors lining each side of the hallway. We finally reached one that had Trey’s name embossed in gold on the door, which she held open for me, standing aside. This was her office, and beyond, there was another heavy wooden door. “You may go on in, Ms. Preston. Mr. Sinclair is expecting you.”

What was I doing here? It was one thing to be brave and bold when those sapphire blue eyes weren’t piercing through me. Suddenly, my legs felt like rubber. I can do this, I repeated to myself, making my way over to his door, my heels sinking into the deep carpet.

My hand trembled as I turned the doorknob and stepped into his inner sanctum. Those magnificent blue eyes were immediately upon me as I crossed the threshold, closing the door behind me. He stood up from his massive desk, dressed impeccably in a custom-tailored suit. In a stride, he stood before me. Before I knew what was happening, his arms were around me, pulling me against his strong, hard body. His hands cupped my face, looking at me with those magnificent blue orbs.

I was taken aback. This wasn't the reception I had anticipated. My heart fluttered. The butterflies in my stomach that had been left for dead were suddenly resurrected. I couldn't let this happen. This wasn't the reason that I came downtown to Trey’s office. I gently pushed Trey back, fighting the urge to throw myself on his desk and have him do me right then and there.

“Stop please,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “I came here to talk to you. Denise told me that you were upset.”

His eyes turned to blue steel in that moment. He took several steps back and motioned me to take a seat in front of his desk as he retreated to his chair behind it.

I sat down, and waited until he had done the same. He rested his elbows on the desk in front of him, clasped his hands together on the desk, rested his chin on them and continued observing me.

“I came here to let you know that I'm all right. I’m staying with Gina. I did not run off with Mark. I can’t believe that you'd even think that.”

“Who told you that I thought that?”

“Denise.”

“Ray must tell her everything,” he muttered, looking displeased.

“I won’t have you thinking those kinds of things about me or Mark either. There was nothing between us.”

“You’ll forgive me if I have my doubts, won’t you?”

I leaned forward, now running my hand through my flat-ironed straight hair, “There is one thing that you have to know, regardless of that picture that was sent to you.”

“I’m listening,” he replied.

“I was at the point with you that I couldn’t live up to your expectations any longer. I knew that I couldn’t be the person you wanted me to be. As much as I cared about you, I simply could not, would not, allow myself to become some, some Stepford replicant.”

A tiny hint of amusement flickered over his face.

“So the night you called and Clint was there, it was just too much. I wasn’t giving up my friends simply because they were male. That's not a reasonable request. I'm not some possession of yours to be controlled. I’m not that person Trey, and I never could be.”

“I see,” he replied, reflecting on my words.

“So after our phone call where I opted out of this . . . arrangement, Mark noticed that I was in a funk, so he invited me to have drinks with him. We went as friends only. But when he walked me to the door of my cottage that night, he did kiss me. Someone took that picture, and I don’t know who it might have been. But what that picture doesn't show is that I pushed Mark away. I told him that we could only be friends, because you see, I'm not about playing games - about replacing one possession with another."

Trey cocked an eyebrow obviously catching the insinuation.

"So anyway, Mark apologized for the kiss. There was nothing between us, but even if there had been, would that have been cause to fire him? I don't get you at all."

He ran a hand through his thick hair, and looked a bit sheepish. "I don't always get me, either. Clearly we are not on the same page it would seem. I guess I thought you understood my position. I mean, I'm not looking for long term - at least not at the moment, yet I can't seem to distance myself from you. It's puzzling to me and it's not fair to you."

I leaned forward in my chair. “You know, Trey, I'll take the blame for all of this, because I guess at the end of the day I wasn't totally clear on what your expectations were - or maybe I was and thought I could change the rules mid-stream. But I can’t be what you want me to be. I want love, I want commitment, but most of all, I want trust, and I don’t see that happening with us.”

“I see,” he said once again, calmly. “Well I guess we're both clear now on what we're looking for, and it seems there are significant differences. Are you coming back to the estate to work?”

“I guess that kind of depends on you. I love working with the horses, and I loved training for dressage with Derringer. But if it’s your intention that I work over at La Vie Belle with Jenna and the rest, then my answer is ‘No thank you.’ I'll come back for the rest of my things.”

“And if I say that you can continue working with Derringer, how would you feel about that?”

“I’d love it,” I replied. “I don’t see how that's possible though, with you letting Mark go.”

“I may be able to persuade him to come back with the right incentives.”

“Do you even know where he went?” I asked.

“I think I know where to reach him.”

I knew it.

“There is one requirement that I'd ask of you.”

"Yes?” I swallowed nervously.

“Since Ray's moved out of the first cottage nearest the stables, I’d like for you to move into it when you get back.”

I didn’t have an issue with moving to a different cottage, though I was puzzled as to the nature of the request.

“I think it'll be safer, being closer to the stables and the house. I don’t like the idea that someone's still out there taking pictures and harassing you. I'll also put someone on security until we know exactly where all this is coming from. Will you agree to this?”

“Yes, that’s fine,” I answered.

"You know, Tylar, I’m not much of a believer in ‘happily ever after.’ My experience has taught me to appreciate the here and the now; unfortunately, my career and even my past relationships to a certain extent have taught me to trust no one but myself. People are dynamic, not static. Things can change at a moment’s notice. People who you thought would love you forever suddenly don’t, and vice-versa. Commitments can be the hangman’s noose. What you want at twenty-one may not necessarily be what you want at thirty. You’re still very young and idealistic, and you’ve not come to realize these realities yet. That’s not a bad thing, don’t get me wrong, enjoy and revel in it for as long as you can, but just know that it won’t last forever.”

I stood up slowly, getting ready to leave. I felt really sad for him. “If I live to be a hundred, I pray to God that I'm never as skeptical about love, life, and human beings as you are right now Trey."

“Let me know how that works out for you,” he replied, smiling.

“I’ll be back at the estate by Monday morning, ready for work, then.”

“I look forward to seeing you there, brightening up the landscape once again, Ms. Preston,” Trey replied as he walked me to the door of his office.

I took the elevator down from the penthouse and was safely on the ground floor in the lobby of Trey’s building when I called Gina. Things didn’t go exactly as I planned, but they could have gone worse.

“Gina, can you pick me up, please?”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Hurry,” I said, my voice faltering.

 

CHAPTER INSERT

 

LADIES, MAY I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE?

 

SORRY TO INTERRUPT YOUR READING, BUT I HAVE A MESSAGE FROM OUR HERO - AND HE'S VERY INSISTENT AND CONTROLLING . . . AS YOU KNOW.

 

PLEASE NOTE - I REPEAT,
PLEASE NOTE
THAT THE COMMENTS AND THE OPINIONS BELOW ARE SOLELY THOSE OF TREY SINCLAIR, AND DO NOT - I REPEAT
DO
NOT
NECESSARILY REFLECT THOSE OF THE AUTHOR.

 

 

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

 

"Hi Ladies, Trey Sinclair here. First off, if you're digging the hell out of this story - please feel free to skip this part and go on to the next chapter!

"And for those of you who have issues with . . . well with
me
, can I have just a couple of minutes of your time here?

"Okay, so what are we, 48 - 52% through this story? I know up to this point a few of you aren't happy with my . . .
behavior
. . . I can hear some mumblings and grumblings out there. Yeah - and I even know that a few of you have dropped the nasty F-bomb a couple of times, and several have tossed their Kindles - so I felt it necessary to
explain
the situation. I mean, what the hell? It's not like the author has given
me
the benefit of some chapters from
my
POV, now has she? I mean you're hearing it all from Tylar's POV, and let's face it, ladies, she's only friggin' twenty-one!

 

"I feel certain that I can bring some clarity to the surface and maybe address some of these WTF? moments you've had. I mean I was
there
, right? I know what was going on in my head at that moment - the moment that Tylar Preston walked out of my office that day.

"Wanna see? Okay then! I
insisted
that the author give me one opportunity to show my POV - and she agreed. So, here it is."

 

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

(Trey)

I watched Tylar as she left my office, knowing that she had taken a piece of my heart with her. I needed to get a grip for Chrissake! I had been acting like some pimply-faced, crazed teenager since the first time I'd laid eyes on her. She had every reason to think I was a controlling lunatic, because honestly that's what I had become.

I'll cop to the fact that I'm a controlling person by nature; and along with that, I'm very driven in getting what I want. It makes me a helluva litigator, a top producer at my firm, and a valuable senior partner. But as a boyfriend, lover, fuck-buddy? I could see where there might be issues.

I'd outdone myself with Tylar, I recognized that. But from the first time I saw her that day in the stables, talking to Derringer as she brushed him, I was struck by something. There was just
something
about her that I hadn't been able to put out of my mind since then. She hadn't known that I was there at the time.

As I watched her, I was totally captivated; and not just by her beauty - because she
was
beautiful, but there was also her soft voice that had just a hint of a southern drawl; and there was the steadiness and ease with which she handled my prized Lipinzzaner. She had amazed me with that, and had definitely piqued my curiosity that day, not to mention the fact that my dick had risen to the occasion quite noticeably.

The next time I encountered her was at the Belle, and it was officially the first time that she encountered me. What a pompous ass I'd been, but I was both amused and aroused
once again by her genuineness and spirit that day. After that, she came to my mind more often than I cared to admit which served to put a bit of a damper on my plans to extend my date that evening with Charlotte Rose into the morning hours once I drove up to the scene at our family's pool that night. The date was officially terminated once I had dived into the water.

Once again, fate had literally tossed this girl into my pool, fighting for her life - and nearly losing the battle before I was able to pull her out. After that, I was pretty much convinced that it was
my job
to protect her - a self-imposed assignment that I relished for the most part.

My experience with women was fairly diverse. I'd had one serious relationship that had ended in disaster, but left me much wiser and cautiously skeptical about believing in a happily ever after. I preferred casual relationships now, and focused only on those.

I had never intended to enter into a casual relationship with Tylar Preston. Fuck, she was ten years younger than me. Aside from that,
I had no shortage of beautiful, available women that were closer in age. Charlotte Rose being one of them; so eager to accept my invitations, and so obviously ready to take things further with me. I could afford to be choosy though, and I wanted to make sure that Charlotte would be on the same page as me before I
slept with her. I may be one to cultivate casual relationships, but I don't ascribe to whoring around. It's tacky and I don't do
tacky.

But I found that Charlotte paled in comparison to Tylar; and despite my best efforts to put the girl out of my mind, it seemed as if fate was constantly tossing us together. I had developed this
need
to protect her as one protects a gorgeous butterfly, never realizing that in doing so, I was destroying the very thing that made it beautiful: the spread of its wings. There's nothing beautiful about a captured butterfly.

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