The Baby Clause: A Christmas Romance

by Tara Wylde

  I take his hands in mine as they gently squeeze my breasts. As soon as I do, he pulls me down to him and engulfs my mouth with his again. His cock jerks and flexes against my lower lips through the thin satin of my panties while his hands slide down and under the fabric to grab my ass.

  What have I been missing all this time? Why have I waited so long for this?

  “Chance,” I moan. “I want you so much…”

  My hips are moving with a mind of their own now, grinding my wet crotch harder against his shaft. Beneath me I can feel his body start to tremble as he lets go of my ass and grabs my arms.

  “Oh, Sara,” he grunts. “I can’t… I can’t hold back…”

  It feels so right… so right…

  I gasp at the sudden hot wetness against my panties and lower belly. My eyes snap open and see Chance’s twisted face and the droplets running down his abdomen.

  And suddenly I’m hit with a wave of vertigo that threatens to drown me.

  You touched his thing, Sara.Smack. I told you what would happen if you touched his thing. Smack.And now look what’s happened.It’s spurted its devil seed all over you. Smack. Pray with me, Sara. Beg the Lord for His forgiveness. Smack.

  The voice of my mother in my head is like a ghost in the room with us, and I can feel the sharp agony of each lash of the belt against my thighs as if it’s happening again right now.

  “Sara?” Chance whispers, alarmed. “Sara, I’m sorry. Are you all right?”

  I can feel myself trembling but I’m powerless to stop it. Everything was so good, but now I feel like I’m going to vomit.

  Damn you, Mom. Even dead, you still torture me.

  I swallow hard and manage to open my eyes.

  “I’m fine,” I lie. “This was just… unexpected.”

  “Yeah,” he pants. “For me too. Do you... do you want to…?”

  “I think I should go,” I say, climbing off him.

  Suddenly the feeling of being naked in front of him is mortifying, when just a few moments ago it felt like the ultimate freedom. God, I’m so fucked up!

  I wriggle into my bra and gather up my dress, trying not to seem frantic. Chance pulls on his shorts and zips me up without being asked.

  “I really am sorry,” I say. “Tonight was…”

  “Yeah,” he says. “It was.”

  “But it’s just not…”

  “Not the right time,” he says. “I get it. It’s okay.”

  I kick into my shoes and grab my purse from the nightstand.

  “Let me call my driver to take you home,” he says.

  “It’s fine, I’ll just catch a cab. There should be plenty on North Wayne at this time of night.”

  He throws on a robe as I speed-walk to the bedroom door.

  “At least let me see you out,” he says, ever the gentleman.

  We walk downstairs in silence. As we reach the front door, he takes my arm and pulls me close.

  “I hope you don’t regret tonight, Sara. I don’t.”

  The demons in my mind are chanting unspeakable things to me about touching his thing, but I manage to wrestle them back long enough to speak.

  “I don’t regret it,” I say, laying a hand on his cheek. “I’m just a little… confused. Can you understand that?”

  “Of course.”

  “Can we take it slow?”

  Chance takes my hand from his cheek and kisses it.

  “Absolutely.”

  I flash a smile that I hope doesn’t look as strained as it feels and say good night. He stands in the doorway and watches until I flag down a cab and ride away into the night.

  I’m not even a block from Chance’s house before my phone starts to warble in my purse. I pull it out, expecting Chance’s number to show up on the screen. I don’t know what I’ll say to him.

  But it’s not him. It’s Quentin Pearce.

  Shit.

  I briefly consider letting it go to voicemail before finally hitting the answer button. I can’t afford to screw things up any more than I may have already.

  “Quentin,” I say. “Kind of late, isn’t it?”

  “Money never sleeps,” he quips. “Have you got an update for me yet?”

  “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but so far, there’s nothing. Atlas is a paragon of virtue.”

  “I know that much,” he grumbles. “It’s Chance Talbot I need the dirt on.”

  “I haven’t found anyone who wouldn’t take a bullet for him so far. I’m beginning to think whatever rumors you’re hearing are just that – rumors.”

  “I didn’t hire you to chase a wild goose for a month, I hired you to find Talbot’s Achilles heel. If you can’t do that, maybe I need to cancel your contract right now and find someone who can.”

  I cringe. This whole situation is getting out of control, but without that money, Grace and I might not even be able to keep our doors open. I don’t have a choice here.

  “I’m getting closer,” I blurt. “I just need to find the right person to talk.”

  “You better,” he says. “Taking over Atlas isn’t enough here – I can buy the Sullivans’ shares, but as long as Talbot still has a significant amount of stock, I won’t be able to do what I need to do with the company. So get me results.”

  As usual, he indicates the conversation is over by hanging up.

  I sigh as I rest my head against the cab window and watch the downtown lights fly by. I thought life was confusing enough before I answered that first call from Pearce a few days ago. Now I realize that I didn’t even know the half of it.

  What the hell am I going to do now?

  73

  25. CHANCE

  “I don’t know how your plan’s been going, but it doesn’t seem to be having an effect on Sara’s investigation,” says Tre. “She’s going about her business the same way she has since this whole thing started.”

  She’s kept our conversations almost completely professional the last couple days, too, but I’m not going to give Tre the satisfaction of knowing that.

  “I’m telling you,” I say. “Things went really well the other night. We reconnected.”

  He holds up a hand. “Spare me the details, if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t kiss and tell.”

  “See, just saying that is telling.”

  I grin. “Okay, I’ll leave it at this: we were acting like when we were kids again.”

  Tre fixes me with a lecturing look. “Under other circumstances, I’d be over the moon about you guys getting back together. I can’t think of anybody who deserves happiness as much as you two. But doing it this way… I just don’t know, man.”

  A knock at my office door interrupts what I’m sure would have been my clever comeback.

  “Yeah,” I call out.

  Karen pokes her head in the door. “Sara’s here to see you, Chance.”

  “Speak of the devil,” I say with a smile. “Send her in.”

  Sara walks in looking perfect, as always. Today she’s in a sleek pants suit that shows off her legs and makes her look like a power executive. My cock gives a little throb under my own pants as I imagine having a special board meeting with her.

  “What can we do for you?” I ask.

  “I was just wondering if you two might be free tonight,” she says. “I promised Grace that I’d set up a get-together with all of us soon. She’s been dying to see you guys again.”

  Tre grins wide. “Absolutely,” he says. “I’d love to catch up with little Gracie.”

  “She’s not so little anymore,” Sara cautions. “She’s a grown-up now. Well, as much as Grace is ever going to be, anyway.”

  I chuckle. “I’d love to see her, too.”

  And if it gives me another opportunity to spend time with Sara, so much the better. I’m excited now – not just for catching up with Grace, but at the fact Sara isn’t walking on eggshells around me anymore. If she’s inviting us out, it means she’s not feeling weird about the other night.


  At least, that’s what I’m going to keep telling myself.

  “I’ve got another friend I’d like to bring along,” Sara says. “She’s my BFF, my therapist and my mixed martial arts instructor.”

  “Sounds intriguing,” says Tre. “The more the merrier. Where should we go?”

  “Well, with you two moneybags buying, I suppose we could go anywhere in the city,” she grins. “But there’s an English pub near my apartment called the Toad & Turtle that we’re sort of regulars at. So if you guys don’t mind slumming it in Riverdale…”

  “We’ll be there,” I say a little too quickly. Way to play it cool, Chance.

  “Perfect,” she says. I’d like to think her smile is all for me.

  “What time?” Tre asks.

  “How about eight?” she asks. “And please bring your significant other, Tre.”

  “Oh, I’m single.”

  “Is that right?” Sara says, arching an eyebrow. “Grace and Kelsey will be very interested to hear that, I’m sure.”

  I can’t see it in his skin, but I’m a hundred percent positive Tre is blushing right now. For a guy with his looks and success, he’s always been oddly shy around girls.

  “We’ll be there,” I say. “We’ll start at your pub, but who knows where the night will take us? We’re young, single and rich.”

  Sara crosses her arms and sizes me up. “You sure you two can keep up with us? We’re semi-pros at this.”

  “Challenge accepted,” I say with a smug grin. “Last one standing has to get the other ones home safe.”

  Tre sighs. “You know that’s going to be me.”

  I drape an arm over his shoulders. “Yes, I do. Sorry, buddy.”

  “All right, then,” Sara says. “We’ll meet you there.”

  “I can’t wait,” I say, hoping she picks up on the lewd thoughts I’m trying to telepathically send to her.

  74

  26. SARA

  I sure hope this isn’t the stupidest idea I’ve ever had in my life.

  Luckily for me, I’ve set the “stupid idea” bar pretty high in my life, so chances are good that this isn’t the stupidest of them all. How comforting is that?

  But it’s all I could think of to loosen up Chance’s tongue, or, barring that, maybe Tre’s. If I don’t have something to show Quentin soon, I could be in real trouble. If his behavior up to now is any indicator, I don’t want to deal with him if he gets any more annoyed than he already is.

  It doesn’t help that I’ve been waiting outside his office for over half an hour now. His receptionist started flashing me sympathetic smiles every ten minutes or so.

  “Just a conference call,” she whispers confidentially, as if he were there in the room with us or something. “Any minute now.”

  I swallow a sarcastic comment and smile back.

  The extra minutes give me some time to consider what I have planned. From my conversations with some of Chance’s fellow vets, I’ve gleaned that he and Sully were in Iraq right before they started the expansion phase of Atlas. Could there be a connection between that and the capital infusion?

  It’s thin, but at least it’s something to tell Quentin.

  A few minutes later, I notice the receptionist is starting to look a little twitchy. Her eyes keep darting to the clock on the wall and then around the room.

  “Everything okay?” I ask.

  She gives me a pained smile. “Just need a break, if you known what I mean.”

  I shrug. “Go then. I’ll be fine here on my own.”

  “It’s just that Mr. Pearce doesn’t like me being away from my desk…”

  I struggle to keep from shaking my head. He can be such a petty little man sometimes.

  “I won’t tell if you won’t,” I whisper.

  The relief on her face is obvious. “Thank you,” she says as she gets up and clutches her purse. “I really appreciate it.”

  She shuffles off stiff-legged down the hallway, making me wonder just what the hell is knocking at her door. I decide I don’t really want to know.

  A few moments after she leaves, I glance at my watch: I’ve been her forty-five minutes now. My patience wore out about five minutes ago.

  To hell with this. I’m going to open his door and sit down in his office. Maybe if he sees me he’ll finally wrap up this all-important fucking conference call.

  As I turn the handle and crack the door, I hear: “…tired of you constantly breathing down my neck. You’ll get the dirt on Talbot when you get it, and not before. Is that clear?”

  My eyes widen as I see Quentin with his back to the door, pacing with a Bluetooth headset attached to his ear. I quickly and quietly retreat and close the door behind me before he can turn around and catch me.

  What was that about? Does someone else have a stake in the Atlas deal?

  I glance down the hallway: no sign of the diarrhetic receptionist yet. My gut tells me to take advantage of the situation, so I reach into my purse and pull out my mobile. I call up an app that I got from a less-then reputable source and plug in my earbuds.

  The jagged little Bluetooth logo comes up with a list of devices to pair with. Using the app, I pair with the one named Pearce. How could such a smart investor be so dumb about basic communications security? I normally use this to eavesdrop on drug dealers and other folks with less-than-stellar intellects.

  “I’m not sure I like that tone,” says a man with a thick Long Island accent. “We’re partners, Pearcy. Partners don’t talk like that to each other.”

  “Then feel free to kiss my ass and walk away,” says Quentin. “And don’t call me Pearcy again if you know what’s good for you.”

  The other voice chuckles. “You’re threatening me? I think you got that backwards, my friend.”

  “Then let me disabuse you of that notion, little man. I’m about as scared of you as I am of Chance Talbot, which is to say not in the slightest. You’d do well to remember that. And if you have trouble, I’ll be sure to ask your uncle to remind you.”

  “Oh, eh,” says the other voice. “No need to get him involved.”

  “Then kindly go piss up a rope until I feel the need to call you.”

  The line goes dead just as the receptionist strides back into the room. Her hair is a bit askew, making me wonder again what she had to go through in the ladies’ room.

  “Just got an urgent phone message,” I say as I pull out the earbud, “Please tell Mr. Pearce that I had to run and that I’ll catch up with him later.”

  “Are you sure?” she asks. “You waited for so long. I’m sure he’ll be done in just another minute.”

  He’s already done and I need to get out of here before that door opens.

  “Don’t worry,” I say, heading into the hall. “I’m used to waiting a long time for no reason.”

  75

  27. CHANCE

  “I have to say, I’m pleasantly surprised,” I say to Tre as the waitress, a buxom blonde in jeans and a black t-shirt, places our beers on the table. “I didn’t expect much out of this place.”

  He nods and takes a pull from his bottle of Coors.

  “It’s not the VIP room at Studio Paris,” he says. “But it’s pretty cool. Kind of a neighborhood pub feel. I like it.”

  We’ve both dressed down for tonight, which in Tre’s case means no tie. I’m in a sport jacket and jeans, with a casual shirt and my favorite cowboy boots. It still sets us apart from the guys in the room, most of whom sport different combinations of Cubs, Bears and/or Bulls paraphernalia. The TVs on the wall are tuned to the various cable sports channels, where the guys in the bar watch two of those three teams in action while a bunch of people in suits talk about the third team.

  I’ll take the Phillies, Eagles and 76ers any day, but I’d never say that in a place like this. I may be tough, but I’m not that tough.

  Tre turns to look me in the eye.

  “Are you going to just let this be a fun night of catching up?” he asks. “Or is this part of your mast
er plan, too?”

  “A little of both,” I say.

  “Not for me it ain’t. I haven’t gone out and just had a good time since I can’t remember when. Fucking boss never lets me have any time off.”

  I flip him the bird as I down half my beer in a single pull. It’s so cold there’s sweat running down the side of the bottle. I like that.

  The jukebox in the corner starts playing AC/DCs You Shook Me All Night Long just as Sara walks in. It’s like some sort of cosmic prank, because the way she looks is enough to make me stop my beer in mid-lift and just stare at her. She’s in a sleeveless white camisole and jeans that look like her skin has been sprayed with denim-colored paint. Her black-and-red pumps complete the ensemble.

  Oh, and Grace is with her. And some other woman.

  I stand and catch Sara’s eye, motioning her to the table. She looks like something out of a movie, strutting in time to the beat of the music. I swear time slows down and she’s moving in slow motion. Her eyes are only on me – or at least that’s what I’m going to tell myself.

  I finally shake off my paralysis and notice that Sara was right: Grace is definitely not little anymore.

  “Wow,” I say to her. “I used to know a kid who looked just like you, except she was about a foot shorter and skinny as a rake handle.”

  She giggles and wraps her arms around my neck.

  “It’s good to see you, Chance,” she says. “You’ve filled out too, I see. Just like Sara said you had.”

  She did, did she?

  “Tre!” Grace hoots. “Look at you!”

  “I’m too busy looking at you, girl!”

  If I didn’t know better, I’d swear I just saw something flash between those two…

  Then Sara’s hand is on my arm and suddenly that’s all I’m aware of.

  “Chance Talbot,” she says. “I’d like you to meet my friend, Kelsey Gates. Kelsey, this is Chance.”

  Kelsey grins wide and takes my hand. “Sara has told me a lot about you,” she says.

  “She hasn’t told me quite as much about you,” I say. “But what she does say is very positive. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”