Baby Makes Three

While we were in my office, it was easy enough to ignore how good-looking Caleb Preston was. I was more concerned with the matter at hand. That he was possibly some sort of crazed kidnapper trying to nab my favorite student.

Hearing the compassion and conviction in his voice softened my resolve and now, as we made the walk together back to his apartment with Emmy in tow, it had gotten harder and harder to deny how attractive he was.

No, he was more than attractive, he was gorgeous.

Caleb towered at least a foot over me, and even in a suit I could see the definition of his muscles. He had olive skin, just dark enough to look exotic, and perfect glistening brown hair. His eyes were the prettiest shade of hazel, and altogether, he looked like someone that belonged in a catalogue spread or on the cover of a romance novel.

Under normal circumstances, Caleb was the kind of guy I would avoid at all costs. I certainly wouldn’t dream of accepting an invitation back to his apartment. The Camden, of all places!

“I think it’s pretty!” Emmy chimed from at my side, her hand squeezing mine. I was relieved to see that she was back to her usual spunky self. I know how scary this must have felt for her.

“Good evening, Mr. Preston,” the doorman sprung to life, bowing gracefully with a warm smile on his face, then stepped aside and opened one of the giant glass doors. The glass was clear, but the way it caught the tinted light from the building, it appeared solid blue.

“George, how’s it going?” I noticed Caleb’s tone was also warm. “You ever gonna just call me Caleb?”

George smiled and ducked his head, and I couldn’t but help but think that he had that kind, grandfatherly vibe about him.

Caleb ushered us in, and before I had a chance to stop and take in the sights and sounds of the building’s lobby, we were being shuffled into an elevator.

The heavy doors slid shut and Preston reached forward to swipe a key fob on a scanner. The fob chirps when it registered, and he was about to select his floor, but then he hesitated and turned to Emmy, smiling.

“Do you want to press the button?” he asked.

She glanced up at me for permission, and I gave her an encouraging nod. That’s all it took for her to leap forward, planting herself right at Caleb’s side. He crouched down to her level and points to the button marked ‘50.’

“This one,” he whispered.

Emmy stuck out a finger and poked the button. The elevator immediately churned to life, and she twirled around to beam up proudly at me. I returned her smile.

Maybe this won’t be so bad.

The elevator pulled us up the fifty floors quickly, and before I knew it, there was a little chime and the doors parted, opening to reveal the most incredible apartment I’ve ever seen.

The floors were rich planks of smooth ebony bamboo. The walls were glass, and the ceiling was dotted with tiny recessed spotlights that glitter like dim stars. There was a modern living room set, sleek leather couches, a furry white rug, a glass round coffee table, situated in the center of the room, and then there was a slight step up to the kitchen, which was easily the size of my entire two-bedroom apartment back in Brooklyn, and then some.

Emmy didn’t wait for permission that time. Dhe bounded out the elevator, her Ugg boots slapping the hardwood floors as she ran straight to the floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the city. The building’s blue glow was radiating through the glass, spilling into the apartment and giving everything a cool hue. Emmy pressed her nose against the glass, peering down at Central Park below.

I felt the firmness of Caleb’s chest brush against my back, and I was suddenly engulfed in the darkly intoxicating, woodsy aroma of his cologne. The kind of scent I could get drunk on. I thought bumping into me was a mistake, but when he didn’t move away, I realized it was intentional; that he deliberately let me feel his taut muscles through the thin cotton of my shirt. He let me feel the electricity of his heartbeat. And if I could feel his pulse, that meant he could feel the frantic hammering of mine; he could feel how my body was responding to his as I melted, involuntarily, against the warmth of his chest.

The heat of his breath tickled the skin on my neck as he leaned even closer, sending a prickle of excitement through my body. My nipples hardened under my shirt, and I could tell he noticed because I could hear him exhale into a soft smirk.

“See?” he whispered, his lips floated dangerously close to my skin, “I told you that you shouldn’t knock something until you’ve tried it.”

I was just trying to decipher what he meant by that, when Emmy suddenly twirled around to face us. Caleb responded instantly, and moved away from me and strode towards Emmy.

“Should we get some dinner, kiddo?” he asked, as he ushered us towards the kitchen.

I took a deep breath, and tried to regain my composure before I followed them into the kitchen. In an attempt to get my mind off of what just transpired, I opened the doors to the stainless-steel refrigerator and cast a scrutinizing glare at the completely bare shelves inside.

“I don’t cook much,” Caleb admitted meekly. “Maybe we shou

ld just order something to be delivered?”

“YES!” Emmy bellowed suddenly, and we both turn to see her standing in front of an open cupboard, triumphantly wielding a packet of Ramen noodles. “My favorite!” she beamed up at us eagerly.

She wasn’t lying. Emmy’s packed lunch at school usually consisted of a packet of Ramen or, as she lovingly referred to them, “three-minute noodles,” because that’s how long they took to cook up in the teacher lounge microwave. I couldn’t help but feel shocked when I saw the noodles. Caleb Preston must be worth billions, but the only food in his five-star kitchen was Ramen noodles?

“Are those your favorite?” Caleb asked, smiling down at her. “They’re mine, too!” Then he turned to me, “What do you say, Miss Wright?”