His Secret Baby

by Ashlee Price

  It wasn’t my imagination. She blushed. Even Melanie, working overhead, caught on to that one and “accidentally” dropped a screwdriver over the side. It landed in the sand next to Jonas and I couldn’t blame him for what he said.

  “Jesus Christ, you trying to kill me or something?”

  “Jonas…” I growled.

  “Yeah, yeah. Sorry, Ms. Lacy,” he said in a monotone.

  “I don’t blame you,” she said. “Hey, Melanie, Jesus Christ, what are you doing? Trying to kill us or something?” She looked at Jonas and he broke into a grin. The day was getting better and better.

  “Well, let me know if you need anything. I’ve gotten a whole list of potential clients from Mrs. Pettibone and I’m anxious to get started. I need to change my clothes and make a few calls.”

  I nodded and she smiled before she turned and left. I helped Jonas with the shoveling and was relieved to see that the foundation seemed to be up to code and didn’t show any signs of damage. I’d learned that the hard way—you always needed to know that what you’re building was going to be supported.

  Once I’d had a good look at it, I took some measurements to make sure everything was square and then told Jonas to go ahead and fill the sand back in. I walked around the house and went in the kitchen door to give Lacy the good news. I hadn’t knocked, and later I wondered why. I guess I just felt comfortable being there.

  I didn’t see her right away, so I walked into the living area and looked out over the waves. I had to admit it was a breathtaking location. Even if the house was a pile of sticks, the property would be worth quite a bit. I spotted what looked like a small mound of sawdust against the floor molding and got down on my knees to see if she had termite problems.

  I heard the sound of the door opening behind me and turned to see her walk from the bathroom into her bedroom. She was wearing a pair of pink bikini panties and no bra. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as I watched her long legs crossing the hallway, the lace lifting slightly where it met her pussy. I wanted to put my finger beneath that lace and just a little higher, maybe even lick that soft, tender skin. Then my eyes slid upwards, and before she turned into her room I got a good look at those magnificent breasts. They were high and abundant, with pink nipples that stood out and begged to be sucked.

  I almost groaned aloud as she closed her door. I had to roll onto my ass and stare out at the waves until my hard-on faded in my pants. I looked up and saw Melanie watching me. She hadn’t missed a thing. With a knowing look she went back to her work—but every so often she looked in the direction of my crotch and licked her lips. There was nothing subtle about that woman.

  Chapter 7

  Lacy

  I was officially making my very first sales call for my very own company, and I was so preoccupied with that tall drink of water at home that I sounded like a Girl Scout selling cookies. I was totally embarrassed.

  The client was a Mrs. Roberts—someone referred to me by Mrs. Pettibone. She lived in a two-story Cape Cod style home, also on the lakeshore. The bank of windows looking out over the water was nice, but I could only describe her interior as being 1970s eclectic. That was being kind.

  She had way too much overstuffed furniture by the windows in the living room. In fact, you couldn’t see the lake from any of the furniture while sitting down. It was lined up against the walls and its colors had faded from the constant sun. It had seen years of use and wet beach towels, which left the upholstery in pieces and the wood coffee and end tables looking warped and gritty. The whole time I was there I had the obsessive desire to brush off my skirt.

  I knew she wanted a homey touch, but there were a ton of ways I could give her that without overwhelming the room. For one thing, she’d used really dark colors and then accented those with black. It looked like the waiting room at a funeral home.

  I sat at her table to draw some sketches and explain what I had in mind. “I thought we could brighten things up,” I began. That seemed reasonable enough, but things went downhill from there.

  “Really? You don’t think the windows bring in enough light?”

  “The windows are big, alright, but when the light comes into the room, it gets all sucked up by the dark furniture.”

  “Sucked up?”

  “Well, you know, the dark colors make it feel like a bedroom at midnight.”

  “What are you talking about? This isn’t the bedroom; this is my living room.”

  “Yeah, I get that. Anyway, you wouldn’t want to use this as your bedroom. I mean, everyone could see everything.”

  “I’m only asking you to do my living room, not my bedroom. Everything in my bedroom is just fine,” she said, emphasizing the last two words.

  I realized what I’d said and couldn’t believe my mouth had formed those words. Now she probably had the idea that I was some sort of the sex fiend. What the hell was the matter with me? Here I was on my first sales call, that just happened to be a referral from Mrs. Pettibone, who just happened to insist that I be very professional and above-board, and what did I do? I compared her living room to a dark bedroom and practically speculated about what would be going on inside. I couldn’t even make sense of what I was saying myself.

  “Look, Mrs. Roberts, let me start over. I’m sorry, but I had a rather unusual guest at the cottage this morning and I’m afraid my mind has gone elsewhere.”

  “I guess so!” she said, although her eyes were still huge and her face definitely flushed with embarrassment.

  “Here’s what I’m getting at. This is a beautiful room and you have a gorgeous view, what they call a money view. That means that no matter what your house is like inside, that view is going to make it valuable.”

  Could I dig myself in any deeper? Now she thought I was calling her house a piece of junk whose only redeeming factor was that bank of windows overlooking the lake. Good God.

  I tried another tack. “What if we remove a couple of the bigger pieces of furniture from your living room area? That will open up some space to move around more. We can either refinish your sofa or buy a new one. Actually, if we bought new, we could buy a pair of loveseats and have them facing one another with a light-toned coffee table between them. That way they wouldn’t be pushed up against the window, and you’d have twice as much seating which allows your family or guests to watch the lake without standing up.”

  I was pretty sure I had just insulted her again and I was hoping she wasn’t bright enough to catch it. Unfortunately, she was.

  “So you’re saying that my guests can’t look out the window because of all the heavy furniture, is that right?”

  I laughed uncomfortably. “You know, I did the same thing with my first house.” Had I just lied?

  “Oh, I thought you were just out of college?”

  “I am. That is, my parents’ house.” All I could think was Lacy, get the hell out while you still can. “Tell you what. Let me go back to my studio and make some sketches. I’ll call you and make an appointment to come over and let you look at them. I’ll also bring some fabric swatches and paint chips and we can go from there. How would that be?” I waited breathlessly, hoping she’d go for my suggestion. It was a little desperate, but maybe she’d take some pity on me.

  “Well, I guess it would be okay. Mrs. Pettibone told me you were good, so I’ll have to take her word for it.”

  Oh, she got me back on that one.

  “What do you think about the floors? I was thinking we could pull up the carpet and refinish the hardwood floors underneath.”

  “That’s an excellent idea. Perhaps you’d even like to whitewash them. That would bring even more light into the room, and it will reflect off the windows, the walls and the floor. You’ll have the sunshine in your living room all year long.”

  “Do you know someone who could do that?”

  “I might. I have a new associate I’ve been working with. Why don’t you let me ask him? In fact, right now, I’ll take some pictures and do a few measurements of the room
. When I come back, I’ll bring you a price on the floors.”

  “That would be perfect. I appreciate it. Do you want me to help you take the measurements? Since there’s so much furniture in here?”

  She stressed the last line, and I knew she was giving me notice that she’d picked up on the insult I had innocently made.

  “Mrs. Roberts, I must apologize to you. This is my first sales call, if you haven’t noticed, and I’m not only a little anxious, but I don’t have all the pat little phrases down yet. Let me make it up to you with a special new customer discount. How would that be?”

  “I think we could work something out,” she nodded. “Why don’t I leave you to your work? I’m going into the study; I have some work to do on the computer. I’ll be just in the next room if you need me.”

  I nodded and set about taking pictures with my phone from every angle. I tried not to be overly noisy as I climbed onto furniture to get the proper perspective. I was glad for my huge handbag as I pulled out the massive measuring tape I carried. I took the measurements quickly and then stepped into the doorway of Mrs. Roberts’s study.

  “I’ve got what I need I’ll be in touch in a couple of days. Thank you very much for meeting with me, and I can let myself out.”

  She nodded without looking up and waved me away. I realized I’d probably just blown my only shot at her house, and maybe others. If word got back to Mrs. Pettibone about how badly I’d bungled this, she could withdraw her support. I didn’t even want to contemplate what that would mean. People like Mrs. Pettibone could help you get ahead more quickly, but if they turned on you, it was an anchor that could take you to the bottom forever.

  I headed back to the cottage, stopping long enough to pick up some groceries. When I got back home, I spotted Riker and Jonas stacking some pieces of wood down by the water’s edge. Carrying the bag of groceries in my arms, I walked down to see what they were doing.

  “Here, let me get those for you,” Riker said as he came toward me. “How can you walk in the sand on those things?”

  I looked down and realized I was in three-inch heels and a short skirt. I probably looked like Daisy Duck waddling across the sand.

  “Good point. Here, if you hold these, I’m going to slide them off.” It also occurred to me that he’d been looking at my legs—and somehow that idea didn’t bother me the least.

  Riker took the bag and then turned and handed it to Jonas. “Jonas, run these up to the kitchen and put anything that needs to stay cold in the refrigerator. I’ll stay here. I have some things to talk to Ms. Lacy about.”

  Jonas smirked knowingly, but he took the bag without comment and sprinted up to the kitchen door. As he disappeared inside I turned my attention back to Riker. “Is there something wrong?”

  “No, nothing at all. I just wanted to talk to you for a few minutes.”

  “Oh, okay. I see you’re building a fire.”

  He followed my gaze and nodded. “Hope you don’t mind, but we’ve got some scrap wood from our project and I didn’t want to see it go to waste. I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind if we stayed a little longer, off the clock, of course, and watched the stars come out. We don’t get to see those often in the city, you remember?”

  It warmed me to think that he might be a romantic. “You’re right. Sure. As a matter of fact, I just bought a package of hot dogs and buns at the store. What if I bring that down and we’ll roast them and watch the stars come out together?” I was immediately embarrassed, wondering if I’d been too forward and put him in an awkward position. Maybe he had intended to do some male bonding with Jonas and I wasn’t invited.

  “There’s nothing I’d like better,” he said, smiling so that the dimples in his cheeks melted my heart. “I have an idea that you’re the kind of woman who’s not only sensual, but capable of a little philosophy when you’re on a beach beneath the stars.”

  “Was that a line? That’s an awfully big assumption.”

  “Am I wrong?” He was standing with his feet spread and his hands on his hips. I could see his pulse in the opening of the shirt, just below his Adam’s apple, which incidentally was huge. I’d heard somewhere along the line that men with huge Adam’s apples typically also had huge penises. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to think about that. It might keep me from sleeping that night. And despite my attraction to Riker, I knew I’d be sleeping alone—we were chaperoned, and I wasn’t even sure if his flirtations were serious.

  “No, you’re not wrong. I like to talk about almost anything. But I thought men hate it when women want to talk about philosophy and emotions and all that good stuff?”

  “Maybe some men, but not me.”

  “Why, are you different?”

  “Did I mention that I graduated from the University of Chicago with a degree in psychology?”

  “I’m impressed.”

  He chuckled. “Don’t be. That was my way of being imperious.”

  “Oh my gosh, a four-syllable word. You definitely have a college degree.”

  “I think you’re mocking me,” he said, pushing a finger in my direction to lift my chin. I thought for a moment the finger would drop down into my blouse, and I even hoped it would, but he was a gentleman and withdrew it almost immediately. There was an awkward moment.

  “Well, let me go inside and change my clothes. I’ll see what Jonas is up to and send him down with the food and a couple of long-handled forks. What would you like to drink?”

  “I could tell you, but then you’d have to slap me,” he murmured, and I know I blushed bright red.

  “Don’t be so sure about that.”

  “Really?”

  “So, that aside, what would you like to drink?” I wasn’t going to let the topic drop entirely. It still had a little mileage left in it.

  “How about a little milk?”

  I had to ask myself, was he really that good at small talk? I wanted to assume he was, because my nipples were hardening and I didn’t doubt that he could see them through the fabric of my blouse. He was definitely looking for them.

  “I think I have some milk. Would you like it in a glass?”

  He opened his mouth and roared with laughter. We were on the same wavelength, and I loved the fact that we could banter back and forth with sexual innuendo without Jonas there to listen in.

  “Did Melanie leave?”

  “Melody who?” That was his way of telling me that she didn’t matter. I loved that.

  “Listen, Riker. I wanted to ask you something.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “The woman I met with today, Mrs. Roberts, has a large living room area with floors that need to be sanded and refinished. I promised to ask you if you’d be interested in the project. I’ve got dimensions and pictures for a bid.”

  He looked skyward, as if studying the stars.

  “I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me once I finish up here. I’d planned to buy a house and remodel it myself.”

  “I thought maybe Jonas could do the bulk of the work, under your supervision. If you thought…”

  “Okay, I’ll do it. But as a favor to you, okay?”

  “That’s great,” I said and spontaneously leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. Why the heck did I do that just now? He didn’t seem to mind, though, so I just reveled in the texture of his stubbled cheek beneath my lips.

  Chapter 8

  Riker

  If you’d asked me a week earlier, I’d have told you that I’d finish up the agreed upon work for Lacy and then I’d be out of there.

  Instead, here I was looking for a house to fix up so I could make Chesterton my home. I no more belonged in a that small, bucolic town than in the wedding dress department at Macy’s, and yet… there I was. Not only that, I had a young black male troublemaker in my care and was looking forward to spending time with my client—a leggy, blonde, fully-rounded ball of fire with a melted caramel heart. Which just goes to show that as determined and focused as I thought I was, I was full of shit. She was
methodically wrapping me around her little finger, and she didn’t even know it.

  The realtor, Linda Davis, was a sour-faced stick of a woman with bulging calves that spoke of grim early morning runs. Her hair was mega-short and she wore no make-up. I had a pretty good idea as to why she wasn’t as receptive of my personal charms as most women were, but it didn’t matter. I just wanted to buy a house.

  Linda was leading the way up the walk of a three-story Victorian. It had been built in the mid-1880s and featured an actual carriage house where the horses and buggy had been kept. The second floor had a linen pantry and the top floor was open. There were several houses in town almost identical to it, and I theorized that the local competition to out-do the other rich people had begun when one builder came to town with a single house plan. Now, one of these babies was actually within my reach.

  “You’ll notice that the kitchen needs some updating,” she pointed out as though I was an idiot. I let it go because she seemed to lack much of anything historical or interesting to say. “In those days, the kitchens were separate from the house in case they caught fire—the house was still safe.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “They eventually added a back porch between the buildings, tying them together. That accounts for the laundry porch.”

  “Yes, I see. In this house eligible for the historical register?” That would mean a savings in taxes.

  “I’m not entirely sure. It would naturally depend on how much of the renovation you’re planning is restoration and how much is improvement. I don’t need to point out that only restoration will pass the historical committee.”

  “No, you don’t need to point that out.” Why was I being such a dick about this? The funny part was that she didn’t seem to pick up on it. That also said a lot.

  I’d dropped Jonas at school that morning. I didn’t want his smart mouth involved in my personal business dealings. I could imagine what he’d have to say about this property. The neighborhood was stable, but there was no doubt this would take some serious investment to restore. It might be better to gut it and use the space as I’d prefer—and that included housing a handful of boys like Jonas. I figured that much space would be enough for seven or eight bedrooms, besides the master. The boys would all be upstairs, while my rooms would be on the first floor. That way I could monitor their comings and goings.