by Mia Pride
“I see.” Grabbing her sparkly clutch bag, Samantha hopped out of my car and, without saying goodbye, walked up the stairs to her building’s entrance. Good riddance.
Wheels screeching, I hit the gas, getting the hell out of dodge as soon as possible. All I could think of was Monica, how gorgeous she looked, how talented she was, how badly I wished she would be at my place awaiting me when I got home. Did she care at all that I was on a date with another woman? I could never be sure when it came to Monica, but I was determined to know. I felt like I owed her an apology and made a point to call her in the morning and do just that. Plus, I had a plan that would make sure I saw Monica as often as possible. Maybe it would be torture, but I preferred the sweet torture of her company to the agony of wondering where she was every day.
Heading home and with a clear mission, I looked forward to the morning so I could hear her voice and have a genuine reason to speak with her again.
Chapter Five
Monica
SITTING ON MY COUCH in a pair of cozy sweat shorts and a tank, I shoved chips into my mouth while watching reruns of Grey’s Anatomy at ten in the morning. Why not? I had nowhere to be, and I couldn’t drown my sorrows in booze, so salt and vinegar chips would have to do.
Yesterday was the worst day of my life. Not only did I quit my job and discover I was carrying Chris Farrington’s baby, but I ran into him on my interview while he was on a date with the most vapid, judgmental woman I had ever met. If that was the sort of woman he preferred, he could have her. I wasn’t jealous, but it was never fun to see your baby’s daddy out with another woman.
Oh, shit. I had a baby daddy. And, I was unemployed. I wanted to cry or hyperventilate, but I was still too numb to do either. I would have to tell him eventually, but it was too soon. I needed to wait until I had an ultrasound before I could consider my next move. I was keeping the child, of course. But I had no idea when to tell him or what to say.
My phone rang, and I jumped out of my skin, spilling chips all down my tank. “Gah!” Standing up, I lifted the bottom of my shirt and did a shimmy, making sure the majority of the crumbs fell to the floor, but salt speckles still burrowed into my cleavage as I fumbled with my phone. Not recognizing the number, I answered, hoping it was the restaurant. I was desperate for work before I ended up on the couch every day, buried in chips.
“Hello?”
“Hi... Monica?” A deep, familiar voice spoke on the other end of the line.
“Yes?”
“It’s Chris.”
Heart stopping in my chest, I slowly sat on the couch and stared at my paused television. “Chris Farrington?”
“The same.” His voice was smooth like melted chocolate, and I bit my lower lip, wondering why I only just now noticed his sexy baritone. Maybe I was too busy admiring his sculpted body and Adonis-like face whenever I saw him, and his voice hadn’t even registered.
“How did you get my number?”
“Crystal gave it to me. I hope that’s okay?”
“S-sure,” I stuttered. I tried to remain calm, but my hands shook, and my heart raced. Why had my traitorous “best friend” given Chris my number? What did she tell him? I told Crystal I would tell Chris when I was ready. I felt my face heat up, and my stomach churn. Maybe salt and vinegar chips were not the best idea for a queasy stomach. “What can I do for you?” I rolled my eyes at myself for sounding like a fool.
“I wanted to apologize about last night. Samantha was extremely rude.”
I scoffed. “Most women are,” I quipped. “Especially those of her ilk. I take no offense.” In fact, I was relieved that he wasn’t questioning me about anything else.
“Good... the thing is...” he paused and cleared his throat. “I only went out with her to satisfy my mother.”
“You owe me no explanation, Chris.” I wondered why he felt the need to tell me any of this. “You’re a better offspring than I am. I cannot tell you how many men I dated to spite my father,” I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.
I heard him grunt with amusement, and I calmed down some more. “I won’t be seeing her again. She isn’t my type. At all.”
“Huh. I thought she was exactly your type.” Rich, stuck up, fake. I ticked off all the qualities in my mind.
“Not even close. I prefer more down-to-earth women who know how to laugh and don’t take life so seriously, or don’t only like me for my money.”
“I hear ya. Well... good luck out there. Maybe if you invest in a simple car like a Corolla, you will attract the right kind of gal. Something tells me your Maserati attracts a certain sort,” I added. “Is that why you called, to apologize for your date last night? If so, there is nothing to apologize for. I should get going in case the restaurant calls to offer me a job.”
“Yeah... about that,” Chris replied. “Mind me asking what happened to your old job? I don’t mean to pry. I was simply shocked to hear that you were switching restaurants.”
“It’s a long story. I’ve been looking for a few weeks. Let’s just say another jealous woman was making my life miserable. I quit yesterday.” After I vomited on her...
“You must encounter jealousy a lot, being as beautiful as you are.” I gripped my phone harder and went silent, not really sure what to say to that. He sounded so sincere and casual that it seemed so matter-of-fact to him that I would assume myself a beautiful woman without hesitation, which was absolutely not the case. If only he knew I had salty chip bits in my cleavage right now. I bit back a laugh.
“Not really, Chris. I think my confidence scares them more than anything.”
“Right. About your job. I have an offer for you.”
“Oh?” Was he asking me to work at F and S Advertising with my stinky brother every day? Ew.
“I employ a personal chef. I work late and never really have time to cook or shop, so I just pay someone else to do it for me. Her name is Sylvia, but she recently had to quit due to personal problems at home. Anyway, I’m on the hunt for a good personal chef and your meal last night blew me away. Any interest in the job? Flexible hours. Only one customer to please, and I’m pretty simple. I don’t have crazy food requests and generally allowed Sylvia to make whatever she wanted. I am simply thankful to come home to a hot meal and a cold beer.”
Silently, I listened. Personal chef? I had never really considered that, but it did seem a lot less stressful than running an entire kitchen and feeding hundreds of people per day, especially in my condition. Touching my stomach, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I had been fooling myself to think I would barf any less at my new restaurant than I had at the other one. At least I could shop and prepare meals for Chris later in the day, once my sickness went away.
What would happen once he discovered I was pregnant? Would he hate me for not telling him sooner? Fire me? Would being around him every day in his house be a bad idea that would lead to temptation?
“I don’t know, Chris... I mean, it sounds great, don’t get me wrong. But I require more hours than I think I can get doing that. I have a mortgage.” And a baby on the way. Even thinking that made a chill run up my spine.
“Whatever they were offering you, double it. I will pay you well for your time and efforts.”
My mouth dropped open, and I looked down to see Charlie licking up all the chip crumbs on the floor. “Why?”
“I always pay well, Monica. I did the same for Sylvia. She even cleaned my house, but I don’t need that and wouldn’t ask that of you. I just want your cooking skills to benefit my stomach every night.” I heard him chuckle, but I was still in shock as I thought about what he was offering. Less hours, less work, more money. Could I work for him knowing I was pregnant with his child? If I told him now, he would not hire me; I knew that for sure. Part of me knew it was wrong not to tell him upfront, but the other part of me knew I needed the money and flexibility.
“Will it be weird though... between us, after... you know?”
“After we had sex?” he asked in a de
ep, sultry voice that would have made my panties melt if I wore any to begin with.
“Yeah. That,” I murmured.
“Mon, we are both adults. We agreed it was a one-time thing. Neither of us needs to think about it ever again.”
“Right. Never again.” He didn’t think about it? I felt a little insulted if I was being honest. I mean, I thought about it like every five minutes. And now, I carried the evidence of that night inside me—not that he knew that. Still, Chris Farrington in the buff was not something a woman simply forgot. Nor was the feel of his flesh against mine or the intense orgasm he gave me that rocked my world and made me dizzy for several moments afterward. Was I not worth remembering?
“So, do we have a deal?”
Slightly peeved, I wanted to tell him to find someone else, but deep down, I knew I needed this opportunity, especially while my body adjusted to the hormones. Once the time came, I would tell him the truth, and I would likely lose the position, which would suck, as nobody will hire a noticeably pregnant chef, knowing I am going on maternity leave in a few months.
Sighing, I ran a hand over my face, knowing what I needed to do, even if being in Chris’s house every day was going to be psychological torture. “I will do it.”
“Great!... Erm, good,” Chris said as he cleared his throat. “When can you start?”
Looking down at myself covered in chip crumbs with my pug now licking my toes, I realized that I needed to stay busy or else I would spiral, sulking into pints of ice cream and gain more weight than I was already going to. “I can start tomorrow if you prefer.”
“Okay, sounds good. Can you meet me for coffee in the morning? I will give you a copy of my key and your first month’s pay.”
“Uh, sure.” It hadn’t even crossed my mind that I would have a key to his house. “How do you know what to pay me?” I asked.
“You give me the number tomorrow, and I will cut the check. No big deal.”
“Right. Okay then. See you tomorrow at the coffee shop near Brent and Crystal’s?”
“Perfect. See you then.” The line died and my hands shook like crazy.
“Oh, my God.” What had I gotten myself into? I called Crystal and began pacing in my small living room. It rang four times and right when I was about to curse her for not answering, she picked up the line.
“Hello?”
“Oh, my God, Crys. You gave him my number!”
“Yeah? What’s the big deal?”
“Hello! Baby in my uterus! Did you say something to him?” I asked accusingly.
“What! No. As if I would. Besides, if his penis is good enough for you, I think it’s okay to give him your number. He will need it a lot in the next few months.”
“Don’t remind me,” I grumbled. “He offered me a job as his personal chef... in his home. He is paying me double what the restaurant would offer me.”
“Well, that’s good?”
“No!”
“That’s bad?”
“Yes! I accepted it! I need the work. But now I have to meet him tomorrow and get a key to his house! This will be a disaster. How do I tell him I’m pregnant and he is the father?”
“I assume Chris knows how babies are made, and you did the deed.”
“You have no idea,” I sighed.
“I don’t want to know. I think it’s stupid that two grown-ass people had unprotected sex in the first place, but who am I to judge?”
“I don’t know, but you sound very judgy,” I quipped.
“Look, Mon. I’m excited! I told you, our babies will be cousins and grow up together! I’m sorry this happened, but now we can go through this mess together! I’m only four months ahead of you. Chris will find out when you tell him, and he will be fine. He’s a big boy, and he surely can afford a kid,” Crystal added.
“Oh, he can afford an entire island of kids. That doesn’t mean he wants one. He’s posh. What is he going to do—ship him off to boarding school someday?”
“I don’t know, Monica. Those are things for you two to discuss. Everything will be okay. He’s a good man, and you already know that. You are carrying the baby of the most eligible bachelor in the state. Things could be worse.”
“I guess.” Crystal always calmed me down. I was freaking out, and I knew that. But how was I supposed to feel right now? “Thanks, Crys. I will be meeting up with him in the morning. I will let you know how it goes. By the way... I’m really super freaking happy for you and Brent. You know how much I love you. I don’t mean to overshadow your happiness just because I’m a dirty slut,” I scoffed.
“Meh, I’m used to it.”
“Hey!”
“Kidding! I love you, Mon. We are going to be mommas together. This is the best. You didn’t plan this, so it’s even scarier for you. But it will all be okay. I promise. I love you, Sis.”
“Love you too, Crys. Bye.”
With a sigh, I plopped back on my couch and grunted when Charlie jumped up beside me, licking my face repeatedly.
“I love you too, Boy. Let’s take a nap. I need to escape reality for a while.”
Wrapping my arms around my trusty companion, I rolled over and nuzzled into the comfy cushions of my couch and closed my eyes, wondering what Mom and Dad would say when I dropped the B-bomb on them in a few weeks.
Chris
AS I STEPPED OUT OF my car and walked toward the coffee shop with my hands in my pockets, I started to second-guess my decision to hire Monica. I wanted to see her every day, but I wanted to see her as more than just my personal chef. I wanted her to be mine. Mine to hold, mine to kiss, mine to lay around and watch bad movies with on the couch while we ate popcorn. Mine to give pleasure to in my bed every night. I couldn’t do any of those things as long as she was my employee. She would make my meals... then what? Go home?
It didn’t matter how much I told myself she was off-limits. In the end, she was a grown woman, and I was a man who very much enjoyed her company. Brent should be freaking glad if she ended up with me rather than a man like Steve. Never would I be unfaithful or treat her like anything less than royalty.
Clearing my throat, I shook those thoughts out of my mind as I opened the door to the shop, the little bell above the door dinging. Gripping the key inside my pocket, I scanned the room and saw her brown eyes staring at me from across the room. Her long, wavy dark hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and she wore a loose burgundy sweater that hung off one shoulder, exposing what appeared to be a lacy sports bra underneath. The large cardboard cup in her hands told me she had already ordered, and I grimaced. I was going to buy her a drink.
As I came closer, I noticed a second cup on the table, but I also observed that her skin looked wan, almost waxy. Was she ill? There was no doubt that she was still the most beautiful woman I had ever met, but she looked weak and tired.
“Hey Chris,” she said and yawned, covering her mouth. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“I see you already ordered yourself a coffee,” I said with mock indignation.
“Yup. And one for you, too. Medium vanilla latte with 2% milk.”
Raising a brow, I pulled out a chair and took a seat beside her, maybe an inch or two closer than I should have, but I found it hard to keep my distance all of a sudden. “One, how did you know my drink order? Two, you should have allowed me to get the drinks.”
Monica shook her head and pushed the drink toward me. “One, I remembered from the morning of Brent’s wedding. I took everyone’s order. It’s my job to remember orders if you recall. Two, I am pretty sure my money, though not as abundant as yours, is just as good to the barista.”
“Fair enough. Thank you.” I gave her a wry grin and grabbed the coffee. “Not sleeping well, you said?” I was curious what it was that kept Monica up all night, trying to get into her mysterious mind, but I didn’t want to sound too eager, either.
“Yeah, just a lot on my mind,” she sighed. “It’s been quite a week. But, I appreciate the job offer.”
“Well, thank you. I do my best.”
She wasn’t very talkative, and I could see things becoming awkward between us, though I wasn’t sure how to remedy it.
“Monica, I offered you the job because you’re the best at what you do, but if you are not comfortable around me any longer or prefer employment elsewhere, I understand.”
Eyes growing wide, Monica put her coffee cup down and shook her head. “Oh no. I want the job. I actually need it, if I’m being honest. I’m sorry if I’m awkward around you right now, but I haven’t slept much lately and just have some private things going on.”
I nodded and shifted to grab the key from my pocket. “Great. Here is the key to my home. The security company has been notified that you are always welcome to come and go as needed. The code to the gate is taped to the back of the key. Memorize it, then toss it. Only four people have that code. You are always welcome.”
Monica put out a hand and looked at the key as I placed it in her palm. “The key to the palace. I feel so special,” she said with a grin as she playfully batted her lashes.
I smiled, glad to see her being her usual self again.
“I wouldn’t call it a palace,” I corrected. “It’s just a bunch of walls filled with stuff. Gets lonely at times, to be honest.”
“Well, it’s not my business to say this, especially now that I work for you, but if you ever want to fill that home with a wife and kids, you had better find a more quality woman than Samantha.”
“I absolutely agree,” I murmured, looking at her lips before locking gazes with her. Monica was always honest, and I liked that about her. I liked everything about her, and that scared the shit out of me. “Although,” I said, straightening in my seat and clearing my throat when I felt her eyeing me oddly. “I have no desire for a wife or kids. Maybe what I need is a cat.”
Monica snorted. “A cat? Cat guy, eh? I have a dog, and let me tell you, I am never alone or lonely. Besides, life sometimes hands you surprises, Chris. Someday, you may end up with a kid even if you didn’t plan it.”
