The Baby Contract

by Barbara Dunlop

  “Because we don’t do politically correct.”

  “Try, Troy. Summon some strength and try.” She plunked herself down on the passenger seat.

  He slammed the door, cussing himself out as he rounded the SUV. What was the matter with him? Don’t touch her. It was one objective, one rule. How hard could that be?

  It was five long minutes before she spoke.

  “We need a name,” she said.

  And he realized she hadn’t been sitting there stewing over his behavior.

  She popped open her little purse. “We have his fingerprints.”

  Troy glanced to her lap, and he couldn’t help a smile of admiration. “That’s why you dropped your purse?”

  “That and to get his attention. Seriously, Troy. Is this not a hot outfit?”

  “It’s a very hot outfit.”

  He didn’t like to recall how hot it was. Because that made him hot. For her. And he didn’t dare let his mind go there.

  “The man’s got a thing for Kassidy. I know you believe this is all about you, but I could have been a block of concrete for all he cared.”

  “Or he’s focused on revenge. Guys like that don’t have normal reactions to anything.”

  “I’m not being conceited,” she said.

  “Who said you were?”

  “It’s not that I think I’m super attractive. I get that I’m pretty plain.”

  Troy would vehemently disagree with that statement.

  “But men aren’t that picky,” she said.

  “You’re not plain.”

  She waved away the sentiment. “I have a sister who’s a bombshell. Trust me, I know the difference. My point is this Jack guy truly does have an obsession for Kassidy.”

  “And my point is, you are incredibly hot in that outfit tonight. I can’t stop picturing it. I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop wanting—”

  “Don’t.” Her voice was so soft, he barely heard it.

  He jammed the brakes and swung the vehicle to the side of the road, putting it in Park and angling to face her. “I can’t control it.”

  “You can.”

  “Can you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re lying. You said I have a tell. Well, so do you. When you lie, your knees get tight.”

  “That’s not true.” But she glanced to her knees.

  “For most people, it’s in the face. You say it’s my left ear, and I believe you. So, tell me, Mila.” He turned his head to show the left side of his face. “Am I lying?”

  He gave her a moment to focus. And he gave himself a moment to focus. His chest tightened up, and a part of his brain yelled at him to shut up. But he didn’t want to shut up. He had to say it out loud.

  “I can’t stop thinking about you. And it’s not just sex.”

  “No.”

  “I know you want to be one of the guys. And I wish you could be one of the guys. But it isn’t going to happen. I can’t keep you, but I can’t bring myself to send you away.”

  “Let me prove myself.”

  “It doesn’t work like that.” He’d give anything to banish the knowledge, the sickening certainty that told him how this all ended.

  “Then how does it work? Tell me how it works, and I’ll do it.”

  “You want to know how it works?”

  “Yes!”

  “You die, that’s how it works.”

  “Huh?” Her expression turned to complete confusion.

  “Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But I send you into a situation, and you’re overpowered, and it all goes south, and you end up like Gabriela, in a body bag.”

  “Gabriela?”

  “No amount of skill...intellect...or conditioning can prepare you for the guy who’s six feet four and can bench-press a compact car.”

  “Nobody can overpower everybody.”

  “There’s a mathematical odds element.”

  She seemed to frame her thoughts. “Who’s Gabriela?”

  “A security agent. A former security agent.”

  “Did she...?”

  “She died.”

  Mila put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It was my fault.”

  “I’m sure it wasn’t.”

  “You don’t know anything about it.” He gave into the urge to cover her hand with his.

  “I know you.” Her gaze was penetrating and honest. “You know what you’re doing. You don’t take chances. You don’t make mistakes.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Nobody’s perfect. I’ll mess up again. It’s only a matter of time. And I couldn’t stand it...” He couldn’t stand it if she was on the firing line when he did.

  The street was dark. The car was dark. The glow of the dashboard reflected the smooth skin of her cheek. She was so close.

  He reached out, stroked the pad of his thumb ever so gently against her cheek.

  “Troy, don’t.” But her face tipped into the cup of his palm.

  He slid forward. He kissed her mouth. His hand burrowed into her hair. The scent of her surrounded him, and she kissed him back.

  He moved closer still. Their kisses grew longer and deeper. He unzipped his jacket, his hand going to her waist, finding its way between her skirt and her sweater.

  “So soft,” he whispered as he touched her skin.

  He kissed her cheek, her neck, the curve of her collarbone, pushing the sweater out of the way to kiss the tip of her shoulder.

  “We can’t do this,” she told him in a strained voice even while she shrugged out of his jacket, moving closer, tugging his shirt from his waistband.

  “We have to do this.”

  He touched the hem of her sweater.

  She hesitated, and he waited.

  She lifted her arms. He eased the sweater off, then unhooked her bra. Her breasts came free in the dash light, creamy smooth, topped with deep coral nipples. He palmed one, and then the other.

  She moaned, and he pulled her to him, smoothing the heated satin of her bare back. He made a tactile memory of her shoulder, her ear, her parted lips. She drew his finger into her hot mouth, and desire ricocheted along his limbs.

  Cars zipped past them on the arterial road that led to Pinion, motors whining, headlights flashing off the glass.

  He kissed her again, pressing her back against the padded seat. He touched her thighs, swirling upward to her silky panties. He longed to tear them off. He was hot and hard and impatient.

  Instead, he eased past their barrier, drawing them away from her, slowly peeling them down, across her thighs, her knees, her calves and over her heels. He gazed at her bare breasts.

  She cradled his head, drawing him down. He kissed one pert nipple. He pushed up her skirt, his fingers parting her, feeling her heat and moisture. His breaths were labored, a rapid pulse pounding in his temple.

  “You okay with this?” He forced himself to ask.

  “Good.” She gave a rapid nod. “Good.”

  He flicked the button on his pants. There was a condom in his wallet, thank goodness. He found it. He pushed his clothes out of the way, and he settled her on his lap, her legs straddling his hips.

  The heat of her around him was mind-blowing. He wanted it to last. But then she moved, and he was all but lost.

  He gripped her hips, planning to hold her still. “You can’t.”

  She leaned into him, her breasts coming up against his bare chest. Her cheek went to his, and she whispered, “Watch me.”

  Then she flexed her hips, and he groaned loud.

  “Mila, slow—”

  “Too slow?”

  “No.”

  She was going to kill him.

  “Faster
?”

  “No. Yes.” He wanted both. He wanted it all.

  “I can do faster.”

  He tried to protest, tried to tell her, tried to explain that there was fast and then there was fast. But it all came out as a groan of despair as he fought hard for control.

  “Oh, Troy.” Her breathing was rapid, while whimpers started down in her chest.

  He realized she meant fast. She meant very fast.

  He stopped fighting it, letting himself go, taking over the rhythm of their lovemaking, anchoring her, going faster and harder while the headlights blurred and she cried out in ecstasy.

  He followed her over the edge, his heart all but exploding with the effort. They slowed and stopped, wrapped tight in each other’s arms. The heat was blasting from the car vents, and the two of them were covered in sweat.

  She was limp against him, and he didn’t know what to say. Should he apologize? Was she going to be angry? Disappointed?

  Her hands went tight on his shoulders, and he braced himself for recriminations.

  But her voice was breathy soft. “I guess we can’t pretend that never happened.”

  * * *

  Mila’s breathing was still deep as she gazed at their naked bodies, latched together on the leather seat in the hazy glow of the dashboard lights. There was distorting reality, and then there was smashing it into a million pieces.

  She couldn’t pretend to be one of the guys when she’d just had wild, shameless sex with the boss. There was no dressing it up this time, and there was no glossing it over.

  “I’m not expecting anything in return,” she told him, feeling as though she needed to state that up front.

  “You can have anything you want in return. Name it, and it’s yours.”

  “That’s not how I’m getting a job.”

  “Except a job.” He softened the words with a light kiss on her neck. “I can’t give you a job.”

  “So, anything except what I really want?” She could joke about it because she would absolutely never let him hire her that way.

  “I was considering jewelry or clothes, maybe a trip. Hey, you want to take a trip? Maybe a weekend in Cancun?”

  Another set of headlights flashed in the mirror. Then it stabilized, grew brighter, shining directly on the back window.

  She all but leaped from Troy’s lap. “Someone’s stopping.”

  “Huh?” He swiveled to see.

  “Get dressed,” she called out, pulling down her skirt and fumbling for her sweater that was wedged between the seat and the door.

  At the same time, Troy yanked up his pants.

  They heard a car door slam shut.

  While he scrambled for his clothes, she jerked her arms into the sleeves of his jacket, stuffing her bra and panties under the seat.

  Then she smoothed her hair, tucking it behind her ears.

  Someone rapped on the driver’s window.

  Troy looked at her. He reached out to rub his thumb beneath her lower lip.

  “Smeared,” he said.

  She quickly scrubbed her hand back and forth across her mouth and shrugged down deeper into the jacket.

  Troy unrolled the window.

  It was Charlie.

  “You guys okay?” he asked, glancing past Troy to Mila.

  She gave him what she hoped was a benign smile.

  “We’re fine,” said Troy. “How did you do? Did you follow him home?”

  Charlie straightened so Mila couldn’t see his face. “I lost him at Metro Center. He parked and took the subway.”

  The statement surprised Mila. Had the man known he was being followed?

  “He could be anywhere. I got the vehicle license. But it’s registered to a numbered company. The corporate address is an abandoned building. This guy knows what he’s doing.”

  “Can you trace it further?” Mila asked.

  She was trying desperately to forget she was naked under her skirt, and that she’d just had the best sex of her life. Kassidy was what mattered here. They needed to figure out who this Jack guy was and his connection to her.

  “Not tonight,” said Charlie. “I’ll be on it first thing tomorrow. You all okay? Car trouble?”

  “We were arguing,” said Troy. “The more we learn, the more I think this has to be about me. She’s convinced it’s all about Kassidy.”

  “He’s stubborn,” said Mila.

  “She’s closed minded.”

  “Me?”

  “Sometimes your first instinct is wrong.”

  “It’s not wrong. It might be complex, but it’s not wrong.”

  “Whatever,” Charlie drawled. “I’ll leave you to it.” He gave two taps on the door and left.

  Mila waited until the interior light came on in his car.

  “You think he guessed?” she asked Troy.

  “Guessed that you and I can’t keep our hands off each other?”

  “What else would I mean?”

  Troy checked the rearview mirror. “Could be our incessant arguments are throwing them off.”

  She realized he was probably right. “Why do you suppose that is?”

  “Because they think we hate each other.”

  “No. I mean us. I mean, how can we fight so much and then...” She pointed back and forth between them. “And then that?”

  “Beats me,” he said.

  “Do you secretly like me?” The question was out before she realized how pathetic it sounded.

  He didn’t miss a beat. “I’m a man. I don’t have to secretly like you to—” He squeezed the steering wheel, staring through the windshield. “Scrap that. Yes, I like you. I don’t mean it to be a secret.”

  She hated how relieved she felt. She shouldn’t need his validation. Sex could be sex without worrying about the whole emotional package. She certainly wasn’t looking for the whole emotional package. She was only looking for a job.

  “You know I’m not going to die. I’m no more likely to die than Vegas or Charlie.”

  He turned to look at her, genuine pain in his expression. “I can’t talk about that now.”

  She gave a sharp nod. “Sorry. Yes. That was out of line.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I’m not going to use this against you.”

  His voice went sharper. “That’s not what I—” He stopped talking and buckled his seat belt. “It’s late. Let’s get you home.”

  She followed suit as he flipped on his signal light and pulled onto the road.

  “My car’s at Pinion,” she reminded him.

  “I’m taking you straight home.”

  “But—”

  “No point in you having to double back at this time of night. Plus, you’ve been drinking.”

  “That was hours ago.”

  She didn’t know why she was arguing. Why would she want to go to the Pinion office, warm up her car, then make the twenty-minute drive back to her apartment when Troy could simply drop her off?

  “Shut up,” he told her mildly.

  “Shutting up,” she agreed, leaning her head back against the seat and shutting her eyes. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” He made a right turn.

  “You know where I live.”

  “I know where you live.”

  She’d put her address on her employment forms. But she’d had no reason to assume he’d checked them.

  “Off the top of your head?” she asked.

  “Off the top of my head.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I read your file. And I’m capable of holding dozens of facts up there all at the same time.”

  She couldn’t help but smile to herself. “Dozens?”

  �
�Some days, I amaze myself. You know where I live. Fair’s fair.”

  “Where you live is relevant, and it’s also kind of cool.”

  “Cool?”

  “A penthouse at the top of a fortress. I know why Kassidy feels safe there.”

  “She is safe there.”

  “I feel safe there. Then again, I also feel scrutinized when I’m there. You have a lot of cameras in that place.”

  “Not in the apartment.”

  “Thank goodness for that.” She couldn’t help remembering the first time they’d made love, in his office.

  “Here we go.” He pulled to the curb in front of her apartment building, setting the parking brake and shutting off the engine.

  “Thanks,” she said again. Her hand felt heavy as she reached for the door handle.

  He angled his body, stretching his arm across the back of the seat. “You mind if I come up and have a look?”

  The question took her by surprise.

  “I’m not asking to spend the night.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m getting up in three hours anyway. I just want to see where you live. I feel like you know me way better than I know you.”

  “Sure,” she agreed.

  Fair was fair. And there was no reason not to show him her apartment. In fact, she found she liked the idea. It could be that she was romanticizing the situation, but saying good-night in her place felt better than saying it at the curb.

  They walked to the front door. She inserted her key, and Troy held it open. The lobby was small—two elevators, a door to the staircase, a couple of armchairs and a planter.

  Both elevators were parked at the lobby. Troy pressed the button and the doors immediately opened.

  “Twelve,” he said, reaching for the button.

  “Did you study up on my employee forms?”

  “I thought one day there’d be a quiz.”

  The door closed behind them.

  “What else do you know about me?”

  “Your weight. Your height. Your graduation date. And your mother’s maiden name.”

  “Not my bank account numbers?”

  He smirked. “Well, we did need them for direct deposit.”

  “I trusted you.”

  “You can trust me.”

  The doors slid open, and they began to walk again.

  “I’m at the end,” she said. “Or did you know that too?”