The Baby Contract

by Amy Brent

  “Thanks,” she said, smiling. “And look. I know you’re lonely sometimes. I get it. I really do. Being the badass bitches we are doesn’t leave a lot of time for lovin’.”

  I giggled and shook my head as she continued.

  “But you know that’s how it always starts. You say it’s nothing serious, then pretty soon you’re into it like you were with Cody. Like you were with—”

  “Don’t say his name.”

  “Okay. I won’t. But you get my point, right?” she asked.

  “All right. All right. I won’t call him. Got it,” I said.

  “Thank you. Trust me, you thank me for it later.”

  “I still wish you had a dick,” I said, grinning.

  “We can always just move in together and Thelma and Louise it up for the rest of our lives.”

  “Minus the driving off a cliff. Feet stay firmly planted,” I said.

  “Skydiving?”

  “Nope.”

  “Bungee jumping?”

  “Nuh-uh.”

  “Plunging over Niagara Falls?”

  “I’d rather set myself on fire,” I said.

  “Let’s get you a dildo,” she whispered just as our food came.

  “Could I take a picture of that trip and put it on social media?”

  We laughed through the rest of our dinner, Mason’s number quickly forgotten as I tossed my pants into the hamper once I got home.

  Chapter 4

  Mason

  It’d been two days since I’d left my number with Sarah’s assistant, and I hadn’t heard a peep. Not a phone call. Not a text message. Not a voice mail.

  Nothing.

  This never happened. Women practically fell over themselves to call me. I honestly expected her to be on the phone with me that evening, but I gave her assistant the benefit of the doubt. But last night? I should’ve definitely heard from her. I should’ve already had a date set up with her somewhere nice. I should’ve already been picking out my suit, what car I’d pick her up in, as well as what present I’d drip across her skin before plowing between her legs later on that evening.

  There was only one logical explanation for this bullshit.

  She had an incompetent assistant.

  The assistant probably lost the note or even kept it for herself. I had to admit, her assistant wasn’t too bad looking, but that wasn’t who I had my eye on. I had my eye on those luscious curves and those thick thighs. I had dreams of biting into the meat of her skin, marking her as my own before making her come onto my tongue. I had thoughts of denying her the pleasure she wanted so badly until tears of frustration rose to her eyes.

  I thought about tying her to my bed with her legs spread open, ready and waiting for me to take her whenever my cock swelled and needed her.

  I’d just have to go down to the studio myself. If her ignorant assistant couldn’t deliver a simple message, then I’d just have to do it myself. I left the hotel early and closed it down before I tossed myself into my convertible. I drove away from the paparazzi who were clamoring for a photo and a quote and quickly made my way downtown. For all the country Dallas choked down, it really was a city that was alive and well with beautiful women. Intricately designed cowgirl boots coupled with short skirts that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

  It was a man’s paradise, this city.

  I parked right outside of the studio and saw Sarah leaving the building, and she looked absolutely delectable. She had on this tight, form-fitting onesie looking thing. All black except for an orange belt that wrapped around her waist. Her broad shoulders and tits were accentuated by the small of her waist while her thick legs clicked in black heels I wanted her to keep on in bed. I got out of my car and walked up beside her, startling her as her black-rimmed glasses turned up toward me.

  The way her blue eyes sparkled made me want to kiss her right then and there.

  “Mr. Baker. What in the world are you doing here?”

  “Mason, please,” I said, grinning. “And I was stopping by to see if you’d received the information I’d left behind for you.”

  “You mean, the note with your number on it,” she said.

  “Yes. Did you receive it?” I asked.

  “I did.”

  “Oh. Well. I was simply wanting to ask you a question, and it just couldn’t wait much longer.”

  “Is everything all right?” she asked.

  “Oh, yes. Tell me, Sarah. Do you have a boyfriend or something?”

  “Worse. I’ve got two terrible exes.”

  She walked away from me in her heels and got into the car parked behind mine. It was a glistening SUV, no doubt making room for that beautiful body of hers to spread out any way she wanted.

  I started wondering if her seats folded down in the back.

  By the time I came to my senses, she was already driving off. I was absolutely beside myself. She blew me off. No woman ever blew me off. I’d chased after her and had tracked her down. She obviously wasn’t seeing anyone, and she was too bitter to get into another relationship. She was perfect for me.

  Why couldn't she see that?

  I heard a door behind me open and watched as people piled out of it. They looked over at me and stopped, the door being propped open with one of their hands as I buttoned my coat. I put on my best schmoozing smile and walked toward them and took a few pictures before I simply slipped into the building.

  If I was going to seduce Sarah Williams, I was going to need a bit more information in order to do it.

  I walked around for a while, simply looking like I knew what I was doing. There was a great deal you could get away with simply by looking and sounding confident, and that’s how I navigated the hallways of the studio. People who spotted me automatically assumed I was here on business and moved out of my way, but the moment I saw Sarah’s assistant, I darted my hand out to stop her.

  “Hello there,” I said, smiling.

  “Mr. Baker! Oh my gosh. Hi. Did Miss Williams ever call you?” she asked.

  “No, she didn’t,” I said.

  “Well, I gave her the note. I mean, I didn’t get it to her until Tuesday. She scurried out pretty quickly on Monday, but I gave it to her right after the show on Tuesday. Well, I slid it under her door, but I heard her get up and—”

  “Slow down. Take a deep breath. No one’s angry with you,” I said, grinning. “Did I overstep by doing that? By offering her my number that way?”

  “Not at all. People leave their contact information all the time in case she wants to call them back for another interview or something. I figured it was one of those types of things.”

  “I looked into some of those statistics she mentioned on the show, and they’re absolutely outstanding in all the worst ways possible,” I said.

  “Aren’t they though? Miss Williams has always had a heart for helping children who can’t help themselves.”

  “Any idea why?” I asked.

  “You didn’t hear it from me, but she spent her teenage years in the Texas foster care system.”

  For a split second, my heart plummeted. I couldn’t imagine what she had gone through. Something had ripped her from her family and placed her in a system that was notorious for child trafficking in this area.

  At least that’s what I saw from the little bit I’d read on the topic.

  “Is there any way I could get her number from you? I’ve got some ideas rolling in my head on how we can bring awareness to this,” I said.

  “I’m not sure if I should be giving out her personal information.”

  “I promise you, it’s just business. I can’t wait too long because I’m not in Dallas much longer, and I want to sit down with her face-to-face and discuss things before I leave.”

  “All right,” she said. “Since it’s for such a good cause.”

  I got her personal cell number and strolled back to my car. I sat in the seat and put up the hood, rolling up the tinted windows before anyone saw me. The last thing I needed was more p
aparazzi raining down on me while I was trying to get Sarah on the phone.

  “Hello?” she asked.

  “Sarah Williams, hello,” I said, smiling.

  “Who is this?” she asked.

  “Oh, I’m hurt. It’s Mason Baker. Don’t you recognize my voice?”

  “How the hell do you have my number?” she asked.

  I heard a door slam in front of me before it ricocheted over the telephone. I watched her storm into the building, her face flushed with anger.

  She actually wasn’t happy that I’d called, and I couldn’t figure out why.

  “Oh, your assistant was wildly helpful. Don’t be angry with her, though. I did schmooze her just a tad.”

  “My assistant gave you my number?”

  “I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner sometime, maybe this weekend or—”

  The phone call hung up, and I was absolutely stunned. I tried calling her back, thinking the call might’ve dropped in the studio, but all it did was roll to voice mail. I left her a voice message asking her if she wanted to get dinner with me sometime this weekend, but as I hung up the call, I saw a very familiar person walking out of the building.

  It was her assistant, sniffling and carrying a very small box of her things.

  Shit, I’d just gotten her assistant fired.

  I tried calling Sarah back again to try and convince her to hire the woman back, or at least get her name, so I could apologize. But now, she was shooting my calls to voice mail. Holy fuck, I’d never had to work this hard to get a woman next to me in bed before.

  She was playing hard to get, and I loved the chase.

  My phone rang in my hand, and I smiled. I knew she would call me back. They always did.

  “Well hello there, Sarah.”

  “It’s Tony, you idiot. Where are you?”

  “Um, cruising down the road,” I said as I cranked up my car. “Where are you?”

  “At the hotel. I thought we were meeting to go over the next phase of this interview bullshit we’re doing?”

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry man. I’m headed there now. Listen, are you hungry or thirsty? I could pick something up on my way.”

  “That actually sounds awesome. What about that Italian place on the corner? I hear their pasta’s homemade in the back,” he said.

  “Oh, you’re talkin’ my language. I take it you want some of that sweet tea shit?”

  “Yes, I do. The largest they’ve got. Grab a gallon of it, if they sell it in those kinds of containers,” he said.

  “You’re becoming an addict,” I said.

  “And you were sitting outside of that woman’s studio.”

  “How the hell did you know? Was something said in the media?”

  “Nope. Just know you. I figured Sarah Williams would be a tough one to crack for you, especially after the breakup she went through last month.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “Her ex was caught sucking face with her now ex-host.”

  “Oh, shit. What about the other one?” I asked.

  “The other what?”

  “Boyfriend. She said she had two terrible exes.”

  “When did she say this?”

  “Never mind. Spaghetti and a tub full of sweet tea for the addict?”

  “Yep. I’ll see you when you get here.”

  “Oh! Hold on. Question. Can you do some digging for me?” I asked.

  “I’m not researching Sarah Williams for you.”

  “Good idea but no. Figure out the name of her assistant. Well, the assistant she just fired.”

  “You got her assistant fucking fired?” he asked.

  “Why’d you assume it was me?” I exclaimed.

  “Because it’s always you, Mason. I can figure out her name. What do you want me to do?”

  “I don’t know, offer her a job or something. See if she’s a good fit somewhere. Do we have jobs in Dallas?”

  “No.”

  “Then make a job in Dallas and give it to her. I feel like shit. I didn’t mean to get her fired.”

  “Is that compassion I hear?” he asked.

  “No, fucker. It’s business. I got her fired for a lie I told, and that was my heat to take. I’m making it right. Like I always do. All right, I’m pulling up to get food now. See you in a bit.”

  “See you soon,” he said.

  Chapter 5

  Sarah

  I couldn’t believe my assistant was stupid enough to dole out my personal fucking information. What the hell was she thinking? I didn’t give a damn if the President himself asked for my fucking number. Mason had the resources to find it if he wanted it. I needed to surround myself with people who protected my privacy, not people who just doled out my shit whenever they were schmoozed by a handsome man in a tailored suit.

  “Sherry!”

  “Yes, Miss Williams?”

  “Pack your shit,” I said.

  “I’m sorry?” she asked.

  “You’re fired.”

  “What? What did I do, Miss Williams?”

  “Cut the bull. You gave my personal information to Mason Baker when he came in here flapping his handsome jowls and dazzling you with his emerald eyes. I need people I can trust with my information, and I can no longer trust you. Pack up your shit. It shouldn’t be much anyway.”

  “But he told me he wanted to call you because—”

  “I don’t care if he was calling because a nuclear bomb was headed right for Dallas. I didn’t call him for a reason, and you blew my trust. Get. Out.”

  Even as she packed up the few things she had and ran down the hallway crying, he kept blowing up my phone. It would ring and I would silence it, and he’d leave a voice message. Then it’d ring again, I’d silence it, and he’d leave a voice message. I had half a mind to change my fucking number altogether and only give it out to Emma, Angie, and the crew. I had half a mind to block his number and have the security guards watch out for him.

  The nerve of that handsome fucker.

  I put up with his relentless calls all day, and I was getting tired of it. He wasn’t getting the hint. Not one bit. And I was getting tired of my phone ringing off the fucking hook. So finally, just as I was leaving to go home, I answered his call.

  “What the fuck do you want?” I asked.

  “I want to take you out.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “Not a chance.”

  “It’ll be fun,” he said.

  “I’ve got no intentions of being photographed out on a date with you,” I said.

  “Good, because I’ve got no intentions of parading you around photographers,” he said.

  Wait. Seriously? Why the hell not? He was Mason fucking Baker. It’s what he did.

  “It’s just dinner. I’ll pick you up, we’ll cruise around, we’ll go get dinner somewhere obscure where no one will find us. Hell, I’ll rent out a restaurant just to get us some privacy. Then I’ll take you home, maybe back to my place.”

  “We’re not going anywhere near your place,” I said.

  “So I’ll pick you up tomorrow night?”

  “What?”

  “Tomorrow night, say around seven?” he asked.

  “When did I agree to a date with you?” I asked.

  “The moment you answered your phone.”

  I could hear his smug fucking grin through the phone. I wanted to bash his head in and simultaneously kiss his beautiful lips. I sighed, thinking about how monotonous my life had become. If there was anyone who understood the intrusion fame had a tendency to become, it was Mason Baker.

  And it was just one dinner, right?

  “Fine. I’ll go out with you. Once. To dinner. Just dinner. Tomorrow night,” I said.

  “Wonderful. Shoot me your address, and I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something that makes you feel breathtaking.”

  “So, my bathrobe and pajama pants?” I asked.

  “Whatever works for you works for me, beautiful. Talk to you
soon.”

  He hung up before I could get a word in edgewise, and I’d wondered if I’d made the right decision. I thought about it all night and about the trouble this could spiral into, the pictures that could possibly surface, and how this could completely backfire on me with what just happened a month ago.

  But I was intrigued. I hated that I was, but it was the truth.

  I was intrigued as to the kind of time I might have with the Mason Baker.

  I woke up Thursday morning incredibly nervous. I wasn’t really sure what I was nervous about, but getting through my show was a nightmare. I had to diffuse lavender into my room and drink chamomile tea just to calm my mind down. I was interviewing an elderly couple who had opened up their own bar right in the heart of downtown Dallas and was pumping out their own original cocktails and crafting their own wines. It was a heartfelt interview, and I could see the love radiating between these two.

  They didn’t make people like them anymore. Women were too wrapped up in how they looked, and men were too wrapped up in the legs of other women to see the prize that could be a hardworking, independent woman anyway.

  But once the interview was over, I found myself rushing back home to get ready.