Chapter Twenty
Lucas
On the way to her bedroom, her cat watches me from the doorway across the hall. His eyes say it all: he doesn’t like me.
“What’s your cat’s name again?” I ask.
“Joey.”
“Like from the Pussycats?”
She laughs. “That was Josie. He’s Joey, as in Tribbiani.”
“You gave your cat a last name? That’s weird.”
The light flicks on and Regan stares at me. I don’t like this look.
“What’s wrong?”
“There’s something else we didn’t have Candace put in the contract.” She sits on the bed, not looking interested in the least in the very thing we came in here for. “The baby’s last name.”
“Oh, right.” I sit down next to her. “I didn’t even think of that.”
“You just assumed he or she would have yours.”
“I didn’t say that. I said I didn’t think of it. But if you’re asking, yeah, I’d like our kid to have my last name.”
“Of course you would. But I started this thing. Don’t you think it’s only fair it’s my name?”
“Kids traditionally have their father’s last name, even when the parents aren’t married.”
“Traditionally?” Her eyes blaze into me, and not in a good way. “If I did everything traditionally, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”
I turn, hitch a leg up on the bed, and face her. “Is this one of those things we’re going to have to get an uninterested third party to decide?”
“Why is it so important to you?”
“For one, I have a family business that bears my name. What if he or she wants to be a part of it one day? It would just make sense.”
“If it’s a girl, though, she’ll most likely change her name when she marries, so what does it matter?”
I stare at the abstract painting on her wall. “What if we compromise and say if it’s a girl, she gets your name and if it’s a boy, he gets mine?”
“That’s not a terrible idea,” she says, relaxing her tense shoulders.
“See?” I crack my knuckles. “I knew we’d be able to do this. Our first conflict, and already resolved. We won’t have a problem as long as you don’t decide to call her Rainbow or him Zephyr or some other hippie name.”
“Rainbow Lucas,” she says, nodding with a funny grin that means she’s clearly joking. “I kind of like it.”
I stiffen. “Wait. I’m changing my mind.”
“I’m not going to name her Rainbow. I think we should each have a little veto power when it comes to the name, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, sure, but, Regan”—I get on the floor on my knees, put a hand on her leg, and look her straight in the eye—“I changed my mind about the last name. I want it to be Montana regardless of gender. When you just said it out loud, it dawned on me that my daughter’s last name would be my first. Can you imagine me introducing us? ‘I’m Lucas Montana and this is my daughter, Sarah Lucas.’ It’s weird.”
She brushes my hand off her leg. “One, we’re not naming her after your mother. In fact we’re not naming him or her after anyone. I hate that. And, two, you’re demanding she have your last name because it’s weird?”
“Think about it. What if my last name was Regan and we had a boy and called him, for argument sake, Mitch. He’d be Mitch Regan. And when you’d enroll him in school, people would think it’s strange that you’d have a kid whose last name is your first. Admit it… it’s weird.”
She blows out a breath. “I guess it would be.” She picks a piece of lint off her comforter. “Fine.”
“Seriously?”
She nods.
I was ready to put up a fight to the death on this issue. Yeah, it was her idea. And yeah, she’s the one carrying the baby. But having a kid who doesn’t have my last name? Call me old fashioned, but I’d have a really hard time with it.
Now that that’s out of the way, I’m once again amazed by Regan. By her ability to adapt. To listen to reason. To compromise. I guess it shouldn’t surprise me, though. She’s definitely a go-with-the-flow type of person. And for sure not as stubborn as a lot of women I’ve dated.
You’re not dating.
It’s a fact I’ve had to remind myself of for weeks. In all honesty, however, whatever this is—it’s not not dating. It’s something . I just can’t put my finger on what it truly is.
“What made you choose the name Mitch?” she asks.
I shrug. “Just pulled it out of thin air.”
“Mitchell Montana.”
She says it like she’s trying it on for size. And I really like the way it sounds. “Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? And how about Mitchell Lucas Montana? That way he has your name too.”
She cracks a grin then flops back on the bed, her eyes fixated on the ceiling. “Did we really just name our kid? I still can’t believe we’re doing this.” But then, she cocks her head. “Wait. If the baby’s name is Mitchell Lucas Montana, he’s getting both of your names. I know that’s not why you chose it, but it’s how people will see it.”
“So now you don’t want his middle name to be your last name because it’s my first name?”
“I don’t know.”
“What if it’s a girl?”
Her head shakes. “I don’t think it will be. I’ve never thought of myself as someone who would be a good girl mom.”
I chuckle. “Says the woman who owns a boutique with a lot of froufrou clothes. Come on, let’s think of some.”
She looks away. “I don’t want to. I think we should just wait and make sure this even happens. I don’t want to jinx it.”
“You believe coming up with names will jinx it?”
She shrugs.
“Okay then.” I take the opportunity as I see it, and crawl on top of her. “We’ll come up with a girl name later. Right now, it’s time for me to make a deposit.”
She pushes my chest. “Can you get the light?”
I don’t want to, but I don’t refuse. I’ve won one battle today, I don’t need to enter into another. But one of these days, I’m going to leave the light on. One of these days she’s going to let me see her totally naked. My pants tighten at the thought.
When I turn back, she’s already undone the first two buttons of her top.
“Hey,” I say, striding over. “You’re taking half the fun out of it. Who wants to get an unwrapped birthday present?”
Light from the hallway illuminates her expression. “This isn’t supposed to be fun, Lucas. It’s a business transaction.”
I chuckle. “Regan, if you don’t go into a business meeting prepared, you’ll never get what you want.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I unbuckle my belt. “It means if I’m not prepared—and by that I mean if I’m not properly stimulated enough to get a full- on stiffy, and if you’re not prepared—and by that I mean if you’re not turned on enough to be lubricated so you can take said stiffy—we might as well fold our cards right now.”
When I unbutton my shirt, her eyes are glued to my lower abs. I take it off and drape it over a chair, slip out of my Ferragamo loafers, then remove my pants. With the way she’s staring at my package, I know it won’t be long before I’m hard.
I strip out of my boxer briefs and stand so I’m all full frontal in the dim light. I sway my hips back and forth to get some momentum going then helicopter my cock around a couple times.
She giggles at the sight. “Dinner and a show. You really know how to treat a girl.”
I laugh. Then I take the show a step further, palming my dick and giving it a few tugs.
Her breath hitches.
I get on the bed, perched on my knees, dick in hand. “Does that make you hot?”
“I… uh…”
I smile and pump myself slowly. “It works both ways, you know. It would get me totally hot if you did it.”
She reaches out for me, but I bat her hand away. “That’s not what I mean.”
If it were lighter in here, I’m sure I’d see her face turning crimson.
“I’m not… no.”
“Okay, we’ll save that for another day.”
“Lucas—”
I lean close and put a finger to her lips. “Shhh. Just watch. A minute of this and you’ll be so wet I’m sure I’ll be able to slip easily inside you. Why don’t you finish undressing? That’ll get me hot, too.”
She swallows hard. It’s like she wants to protest. She doesn’t want me watching her undress. She’s in quite the predicament.
Her eyes don’t stray from my cock as she finishes unbuttoning her Bohemian style blouse. Then she removes those same ripped jeans she had on a few weeks ago—they must be her favorite. She hesitates at her bra, like she’s considering keeping it on.
“That too. Your tits are amazing.”
It comes off and her large breasts spill to the side.
She goes for her panties when I stop pumping. “Wait. I want to do that.”
I hook my thumbs onto the black cotton fabric on either side of her hips and lower them down. She raises her butt to assist, and I get a whiff of what my erotic display did to her. It makes my cock throb.
With her panties off, I graze her inner thigh with the palm of my hand, slowly moving it upwards. A satisfied smile crosses my lips as I detect a shiver running through her when I reach the area between her legs. As suspected, she’s wet and ready, making it easy for me to slide in one finger, then another.
When my tongue toys with her left nipple, she moans and presses her head back into the mattress. Jesus, those noises. Is today going to be the day I make her come?
I double my efforts and lower my head until I’m between her legs. When I lick her clit, a hand pushes me away. “Lucas, I’m ready.”
“You don’t want me to…”
“We’re not here for that.”
“Right. Because this is just a business transaction.”
“That’s right, it is.” She rises on her elbows. “Was it the contract we signed that clued you in?” she says sarcastically.
“Doesn’t mean we can’t kill two birds with one stone.”
“That’s not the objective anymore.” Her head shakes. “Besides, there’s not a chance in hell of that happening with all these thoughts racing through my head. Will I get pregnant? If I don’t, how long will it take? What if it never happens?”
“Can’t you just forget all that and be in the moment?”
She laughs. “Let me educate you on the female brain.”
“Okay, okay. I get it. You’re just using me for my body.”
“No, Lucas. I’m using you for your sperm. Your body is just a bonus.”
That makes me smile. And even more determined to make her come. I push a finger inside. “Come on, Ray. Let me try. Give me ten minutes. It’ll be good, I promise.”
Her demeanor shifts. She shifts. Almost like she’s going to get out of bed.
I sigh in defeat. “Fine. You want my cock, you got it.” I climb on top of her and push inside her. It’s a little more difficult today. All the talking must have dried her up a bit. I look down. “You okay?”
“I’m good. Just do it.”
Not exactly the tantalizing encounter I was hoping for. But it’s Regan. And my dick is inside her. I can’t help but enjoy it, no matter what circumstances brought me here.
It doesn’t take me long to get there. I’d refrained from any manual activity this week knowing this was in the forecast. When she begins to make some sexy little noises, I wonder if they’re even real. My dick doesn’t seem to care, however. He likes them. He likes them a lot. The moans and sighs and mewls. She definitely knows what it takes to urge a man along.
I grunt and tense and spill myself inside her.
When I roll to her side, I ask, “Did you get anything out of that?”
“I’m hoping a baby.”
I elbow her gently. “You know what I mean, Regan. Those sounds you made, were they real or just for show?”
She shrugs without answering.
“Why do you do that?”
“I find it gets guys there more quickly.”
“But it’s deceptive. And it doesn’t give us a chance to get you there.”
She gets under the blanket and switches on the bedside lamp. “Are you mad about that?”
“Not mad. Just disappointed I guess. It’s always better if both people get off.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “You sure you aren’t mad?”
“Why would I be mad, Regan?”
“He always got mad.”
“He?” I cock my head and then it occurs to me. “You mean that David guy?”
“Would you mind getting me a glass of water on your way out? I don’t want to get out of bed for a while. It’ll increase our chances.”
She’s shutting me out. Not to mention kicking me out, for the third time.
I’ve never been kicked out. I’m usually the one who does the kicking. But it’s clear to me that Regan is the one wearing the pants in this… whatever this is.
I get out of bed and put my clothes on. The whole way to the kitchen I wonder about this David character and what he could have done to make her the way she is. Before she left for college, she was different. She wasn’t a slut, but I swear she must have dated half the football team. I know because I’d dream of killing every guy she ever went out with.
And although our paths didn’t cross much after she came back, I never heard a goddamn thing about Regan Lucas dating anyone. Maybe she did it secretly. Or maybe she didn’t do it at all. But one thing is for sure—this David asshole, he’s the reason.
I hand her a glass of water and sit on the bed. “Tell me about David.”
She takes a drink and sets the glass on the nightstand, flipping off the light. “I’m tired.”
I perch myself against her headboard. “I’m not leaving until you do.”
“Why, Lucas? What does it even matter?”
“We’re friends now, aren’t we? And you may very well be the mother of my child soon. It’s only natural that I’d be curious about your exes. And it’s only fair. After all, you and this whole town seem to know everything about mine.”
She turns on her side and fluffs her pillow, settling in then looking at me. “He was my boyfriend in college.”
“And he would get mad if you didn’t come?”
She nods silently, as if embarrassed.
“Tell me why.”
“It’s kind of a long story. You sure you want to hear it?”
I take my shoes off again and settle in, leaning back against a pillow. “I don’t have anywhere to be at the moment.”
“Well, as you know, I played volleyball in high school.”
“You were an amazing player.”
She smiles, but it’s a sad one. “I loved it. I even made the JV team my freshman year at Houghton—you knew I went there, didn’t you? My parents wanted me to attend a Christian university. They made it clear it was the only way they’d pay my tuition. It’s a small school, so making the JV team as a freshman wasn’t that big a deal. Still, I was happy to be playing my favorite sport.
“Anyway, one day early on, I was working out in the gym and there was this gorgeous guy who always seemed to be there the same time I was. Turns out he was on the baseball team. And he was a year older. We became friends even though I was totally smitten. By spring semester, he made it clear that he’d be open to a relationship if I were ‘more his type’.”
My stomach turns. “You mean if you were thin.”
“Exactly.”
I shake my head in disgust. “Regan, you didn’t.”
“I was a love-sick nineteen-year-old who was being propositioned by the hot first baseman on the varsity team. Of course I did.”
I have a feeling I know where this is going, but I let her tell me.
“I wanted him so badly, I began starving myself. I let him become my personal trainer. He’d push me so hard, even my fingernails would hurt. And he’d always dangle the carrot of a potential relationship. He even had me weighing myself. Promising if I got down to a certain weight, he’d take me to his parents’ second home, a beach cottage in Maine.”
“Jesus.”
“I dropped weight so quickly I started passing out at practice. I blamed it on a virus and the coach believed me. By the end of the spring semester, David and I became a couple. While most students went home, we both stayed on campus for the summer, taking an easy class or two while continuing to hone our athletic skills. And he made good on his promise. He took me to Maine.”
I tense. “What did that motherfucker do?”
“He didn’t hurt me, if that’s what you’re thinking. It was the first time we got naked together. He was so appreciative of my newly sculpted body that I didn’t even care how controlling he was becoming. It didn’t even occur to me until later that he dictated everything in our relationship. Where we partied. When we worked out. What I ate.”
“What you ate,” I repeat angrily.
“If he saw a hamburger on my plate, he’d ask if I wanted to go back to being the fat girl. He insisted he was only looking out for my health, and my future on the team, but I knew what he really meant—that he’d break up with me.
“By the time fall semester rolled around, my diet consisted strictly of salads, chicken breasts, and broccoli. When my coach saw me, he freaked and asked if I was sick. Needless to say, I didn’t make the team sophomore year, not even JV. But by then, I was too far gone. Too much under his spell. He took care of me like I was an injured bird. He protected me—or so I thought.”
“And the orgasm thing?”
“It didn’t bother him at first. I think all men get that women don’t come every time, and especially not until they’re comfortable with their partners. But after we’d been doing it for months, he started to get mad. Like, he’d yell at me, asking what’s wrong with me, telling me I didn’t love him if I couldn’t come.
“So I started faking it. It was so much easier that way. He’d get his rocks off, and he’d be happy that I did too. It went on that way for almost two years, until he graduated.”
“What happened then?”
“Believe it or not, I’d never met his parents until his graduation. It was the most eye-opening moment of my life. When I saw his dad, it was like looking at an older version of David. And his mom, she was this pathetic little puppy who followed his dad around and obeyed his every command. She was a Stepford wife. My future flashed in front of me, and I knew if I didn’t get out then and there, I’d never be the same. So I broke it off.”
I smile and nod. “That-a-girl.”
“If it were only so easy.”
“Ah, shit. What did he do?”
“He stalked me at my school apartment. He said he still wanted me even though I’d immediately started gaining back the weight I’d lost. A few months later, he broke in and”—she turns and looks away—“killed my cat.”
My entire body stiffens. “Holy shit. What happened?”
“The school security cameras showed him breaking into my apartment. They arrested him for that and the cat, but he was only found guilty of the break-in because he took a plea. It still makes my skin crawl that he got away with murdering Chandler.”
Finally understanding her feline naming nomenclature, part of me wants to laugh. I hold it in, however, because what she’s telling me is so utterly disgusting.
“Did he go to jail?”
“Only for ninety days. Then he was on probation for three years with strict orders to never contact me.”
“Has he ever contacted you?”
“No.”
“Good.” I breathe a little easier. “He’s the reason you learned self-defense, isn’t he? And that dickwad is the reason you can’t have an orgasm with a guy.”
“Yup.”
“Is he also the reason you’ve never married?”
“I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure I decided long ago that book boyfriends are so much better.”
“Book boyfriends?”
“You know, guys in books. Fictional characters. I do own a bookstore, you know. Unlimited fantasies at my fingertips.”
“And an arsenal of toys in your bedside table?”
She laughs. “Yeah. And that.” Her eyelids flutter. She wasn’t kidding. She really is tired.
“Regan?”
“Mmm?” she says sleepily.
“I’ll quit smoking. Once you get pregnant, I’ll quit. Okay?”
“Mmm…. kay… good,” she says drifting off to sleep.
I watch her face relax, selfishly hoping she didn’t get pregnant this time.
And it has absolutely nothing to do with me not wanting to quit smoking yet.