Maybe Baby Lite (19 page)

“
Tylar,” he said, “do you
know how much I want to touch you? Do you know how much right this
minute I want to be inside of you?”

“
Then why
aren’t
you?” I asked.
“What are
you
afraid of?”

His eyes darkened. “I'll
tell you what I'm afraid of Tylar. I’m afraid of starting something
that we can’t finish. I’m afraid that I may do something that will
send you reeling back in time to some sick memory or childhood
dream. I don’t want to be the person that evokes some deep dark
memory or painful experience you’ve tucked away in your
subconscious. I want to be the person that's there for you once you
have found the answers, and works with you to chase those demons
away.”

“
So you want me to find
the answers somehow, someway, and then you’ll be there for me to
help sort them out, right? Isn’t that kind of like sending me down
into the coal mine alone, but being there for me if and when I come
out, to help me weigh the coal?

“
That’s a total
misrepresentation of what I said and you damn well know it," he
shot back.

“
Oh, is it? The fact you
won’t touch me makes me feel all that much more damaged and
undesirable I’ll never be good enough for you, will I,
Trey?”

“
What?” he choked. He
continued to stare at me with those exquisite, blue eyes, but he
was unreadable. He didn’t say a word and his silence spoke volumes.
I shrugged my pink robe on headed to the bedroom door.

"Where are you going?"
asked with alarm.

“
To find another
bedroom.”

I located a small empty
bedroom around the corner from Trey’s wing. The wall switch turned
on the light on the nightstand next to the made-up double bed. It
was a pleasant enough room, definitely free of distractions. I
climbed between the sheets and surrendered to sleep.

Trey came to my “new”
bedroom at 6:30 the next morning, waking me as he sat down on the
bed beside me. He was dressed impeccably in a pale blue oxford
button-down dress shirt that brought out the intensity of his
sapphire eyes. His gray, tailored trousers accentuated his lean,
muscular build. The gray and blue Repp striped silk tie made his
Armani traveling executive look complete.

“
Tylar,” he said, sounding
business-like, “I’m getting ready to take off for the airport. I
just wanted to make sure you're settled in.” He looked around the
room as if seeing it for the first time. “There are larger rooms
available, Tylar—”

“
This one is
fine.”

“
Okay then. Well, you have
some time to get your things from my suite and get situated in here
before you leave for work. Thatcher will get you anything you need
if you let him know.”

“
Fine,” I answered, not
meeting his gaze.

“
Don’t forget, Rebecca
will be by to pick you up for work this morning around 8:45. She
will bring you back here after work as well,” he reminded me again.
“Tylar, I want you to stay here all week. I'll give you a call when
I can, but my schedule with the trial is fairly brutal. You can
always leave a message for me on my cell and I’ll get back to you
as soon as possible. I left my business card with all of my contact
information in Atlanta on top of your suitcase back in my
room.”

At this point, I was
merely nodding my head each time I received an instruction from
him, half-listening. I wanted to go back to sleep.

“
I guess that’s it, unless
you have any questions for me?”

“
Nope,” I answered rolling
over so that my back was to him. “Have a safe trip.”

“
Have a good week, Tylar,”
he said. I felt the bed shift as he stood. My eyes welled up with
tears. I closed them tightly, trying to get the image of him out of
my mind.

“
There's one other thing,”
I heard his soft, silky voice. He'd come around to the other side
of the bed, and was down on his haunches, front of me. He leaned
over, his thumb brushing a tear that had spilled from my cheek. He
kissed me softly on my lips, stroking my hair. I threw my covers
back a bit, raising myself to my knees to be level with him. I
laced my arms around his neck and buried my face against his
shoulder. He smelled so good. I was probably leaving tearstains on
his impeccably ironed oxford shirt. He pressed me to him, his chin
resting on my hair.

“
Will you promise to be a
good girl while I’m gone, please? I don’t want to be worried about
you during this trial.”

“
Yes I promise,
Trey.”

He gave me another
squeeze, kissing the top of my head. I pulled back, lifting my face
to his. We kissed again, this time our lips moved sensually,
passionately. I pressed myself to him, and my teeth gently tugged
at his lower lip as we slowly parted. And then he was gone. I heard
the heavy front doors downstairs open and close a few moments
later.

My bedroom faced the front
of the manor. The circular driveway was in plain view from the
window. I could see that a limo was taking Trey to the airport.
Thatcher was standing outside with him holding a leather duffel bag
as Trey spoke to the driver. Trey held his leather briefcase; his
suit jacket was slung over his shoulder. He looked like a model. He
got into the limo as Thatcher handed him the leather duffel,
closing the car door. The limo moved down the driveway. I watched
it getting smaller and smaller, until it was a speck. I felt lonely
and empty.

I padded down to his room
to get my belongings. I felt closer to him just being around his
things. I looked at the rumpled sheets and covers on his bed. I
suspected he'd slept restlessly last night; the sheets were
un-tucked at the end of the bed, the blanket and duvet twisted
around each other. His boxers were on the bathroom floor where he'd
stepped out of them. The bathroom still smelled of toothpaste,
mouthwash, and his delicious aftershave. His navy blue terry robe
was on the hook of the bathroom door.

I decided that although I
wasn't going to sleep in his room this week, there was no reason
not to enjoy his amazing bathroom. I shut the bathroom door and
stripped off my clothes. I wanted to take a shower where he'd been
just an hour before. I shampooed my hair with his shampoo and
conditioned it with his conditioner. I rubbed his body wash all
over me, and shaved my legs with his razor.

Once dressed, I realized
I'd need to return to my cottage to get more of the essentials. I'd
have someone go along with me later after work. I went downstairs
and nearly collided with Thatcher as he came into the entrance hall
from the dining area.

“
Good morning, Ms.
Preston,” he greeted me. “I trust you rested well last
night?”

“
Very well thank you.
Please call me Tylar, won’t you?”

“
As you wish. May I get
you some breakfast, Tylar?”

"Don't go to any trouble
on my account, Thatcher."

"It's no trouble, I assure
you," he replied, smiling. He went to the kitchen and returned with
my breakfast asking if there was anything else I needed. I assured
him I was fine. I was anxious to go to work. I couldn’t imagine
spending the day here having nothing to do. I ate my food and
started to clear the table when Thatcher returned, taking over. I
guess I wasn't to lift a finger here.

I went upstairs to collect
my purse. I noticed that my bed had already been made up. Trey’s
robe was hanging on a hook on the back of my bedroom door. I'd be
pissed if someone moved it back to his room or, heaven forbid,
laundered it. I heard the sound of a car horn outside. Glancing at
the clock on the dresser I saw that Mrs. Johnson was right on time.
Trey was right, two minutes into the drive over to the Belle; Mrs.
Johnson insisted I call her “Becky.”

She told me I'd be busy
all week helping in the winery. She’d provided an employee nametag
for me, instructing me it was mandatory to wear at this location
because of tourists. It was primarily a security
measure.

We arrived at the winery,
which looked like a regular barn from the outside but was entirely
refurbished inside. There was a door leading to the wine cellar,
the site of my new assignment. I followed her down the narrow
wooden steps to the cool dampness of the wine cellar. This wasn't
too bad after all. I was going to like this. If nothing else, it
was a great way to beat the heat outside. She led me through a
narrow corridor, and then opened a wooden door to a large room that
held the corking machine. It was fairly loud, and Becky shouted for
the girl that was operating it to shut it off.

“
Here’s your help, Gina,”
Becky said to the girl.

“
Tylar, this is my niece,
Gina,” she said. “Gina, this is Tylar Preston, your help for the
week.”

Gina cracked a dazzling
smile as she walked over to me, wiping her hands on her pants and
smoothing her short-cropped strawberry blond hair. “A fellow
‘cellar rat,’ welcome,” she said, holding her hand out to greet me.
I shook her hand, confused by the job title. Gina laughed at my
confusion.

“
Don’t take offense;
that's just what everyone in the wine business calls this
entry-level position.”

“
I’ll leave you to the
training, Gina,” Becky said, making her way to the door.

“
Don’t worry Aunt Becky,”
Gina replied, still smiling. “I’ll have her up to speed in no
time.”

“
Just behave while you
do,” Becky replied, shaking her head. I got the impression that
Gina was a handful for her aunt.

“
First off, we need to get
you the proper uniform,” Gina said, selecting a clean apron from a
stack on a shelf. “Tie this around you because it does get dusty
down here amongst other things,” Gina said in an accent that didn’t
sound southern.

“
Have you worked here
long?” I asked, putting my head through the apron and tying it in
the back.

“
Only since I was a kid,”
she answered.

“
You don’t sound like
you’re from around here.”

“
That’s because I’m not,”
Gina said, taking a shop rag and wiping off the tool on the machine
that lowered the cork into the bottle. The machine did not look
high-tech whatsoever, but then again, this wasn't a major
winery.

“
I’m originally from New
Jersey,” she explained. “Aunt Becky's my mom’s sister. I used to
spend nearly every summer here. This is not my real job,” she
explained. “I just came over to help my aunt out with this bumper
crop. In return, she's cutting me a sweet deal on fifty cases of
wine for our club.”

“
You have a
club?”

“
Sure do,” she said,
cracking her chewing gum. “My husband, Ian, and I opened it last
year in Atlanta. That’s where we live now. It's a kickin’
place.”

Throughout the rest of the
morning, Gina trained me in the art of being a cellar rat at a
winery. It mostly consisted of tasks such as “hold this” or “clean
that.” She instructed me on how to affix the labels onto the wine
bottles. It wasn't rocket science, but it was nice having someone
like Gina to talk to while doing redundant tasks. Gina was the type
of person who'd never met a stranger. After spending just a couple
of hours around her I felt like I'd known her forever; direct and
unpretentious, I liked her immediately.

As it turned out, Gina’s
Aunt Becky lived about a quarter of a mile down the road from the
Sinclair Manor. I told Gina about staying at the manor. I noticed
the raised eyebrow and soft little smirk that escaped from her
after I mentioned it.

“
What?” I
asked.

“
Nothing,” she replied,
getting a shit-eating grin on her face. “How do you like Mr. and
Mrs. Sinclair?” she asked innocently enough.

“
I’ve not met them,” I
replied honestly. “They're traveling in Europe.”

“
Oh, that’s right,” she
said, “just like they do every July and August. So I guess it’s
just you and Trey holed up there, huh?”

“
No, actually it’s just me
there for now.” I didn’t want to get into the long story about the
drama in the pool, nightmares, my crazy mother, or the rest. I
figured I' would get there soon enough. I had no clue as to how I
could explain my relationship, or non-relationship, with Trey. I
wanted to shift the conversation away without being too
obvious.

“
So, you know Trey?” I
asked.

“
Well yes, I guess,” she
answered, snapping her gum. “I mean as well as anyone could know
him I suppose. He’s like three or four years older than me, but
yeah, I remember summers back when I was in high school. He was
away at school most of the time, Oxford I think. He has two older
brothers too, but they are like way older. In their late 30s or
early 40s, I'd guess. They operate wineries out on the west coast.
Napa Valley. I think Trey was maybe a surprise when he came along.
He’s not like his brothers from what I know. Kind of weird, isn’t
it?”

“
What do you mean?” I
asked.

“
Well, the Sinclair's have
all of this money and they set the two older boys up in Napa Valley
with vineyards that made them multi-millionaires. Then along came
Trey, and with him, it’s like he didn’t want that kind of life. He
gets the schooling abroad and all of that, but being a lawyer sure
doesn’t pay what his brothers are making out in Napa. I heard he
simply told his parents he didn’t want it. Then all that stuff
happened with his fiancé getting hurt real bad.”