The tips of my breasts harden, their tingling creating that commotion in the valley between my legs.

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you being here,” he says quietly. “Look how much I’ve gotten done already, with your help.”

“You’re welcome, Mason. I mean, that’s what you’re paying me for.”

His gaze changes, his eyes taking on an expression as if he’s just waking up.

“Right. Of course. We should decide on that soon, actually.” He gives me a tight smile and steps back. “Would you mind taking Andrew to the living room? You can watch TV or put on a movie or do whatever you like. I haven’t had a minute to take a really good shower since I brought him home.”

I can’t help but feel a bit bereft. Did reminding him that he’s paying me just kill the mood? Seems like it. The feeling that passed between us dissipates.

But not all the way.

That touch…I have to suppress a shiver.

Maybe I should remember that we’re just playing house for a few days. It’s not like we’re an item or anything.

“Oh, sure.” I gather the baby up with his blanket.

“Thanks. It’s almost time for dinner. When I’m done, we’ll order in.”

* * *

Baby Drew is nestled into my arms, sleeping. I’m watching an old western, and even the sound of galloping horses and gun fire doesn’t wake the baby up.

Mason comes down the hall from his bedroom, wearing a pair of soft, loose lounge pants and a t-shirt. I notice again how tired he looks, like he’s ready for bed right now.

He looks down at his sleeping son and smiles. “Is it normal for a newborn to sleep so much?”

“Between feedings, it is. He won’t sleep through the night for a while yet. But while I’m here, I’ll get up with him.”

“You’re a Godsend. Now, where’s that carry bed thingie…?” He sorts through some unopened boxes of baby goods. “Aha!” He opens a box marked “Carry Cot” and unfolds a small bassinet with handles. After examining it carefully, he lines it with a blanket and then takes the baby from my arms.

“Let’s try this out, buddy,” he croons, and lays Drew gently into the soft interior.

Oh my gosh. His tenderness, his devotion…it affects me deeply. It’s just so damn sexy!

Somehow, it’s even more so in a tall, beefy guy like Mason.

I bite my lip and focus on the baby.

“Look how small he is compared to this cot! He’ll grow to fill up that space fast, but right now…awww!” I put my hand on my heart.

“I know. He’s tiny. Oh, yeah, that reminds me,” he mutters, getting out his phone. He takes a few shots of the baby nestled into his new carrier. “I keep forgetting to take photos,” he says. “I don’t want to neglect that. It’s just that…there’s so much to remember.”

“That’s right! Don’t beat yourself up over it. While I’m here, I’ll try to remind you to take more photos,” I say, reassuringly.

“Thanks. Okay, now, c’mon. I’m gonna show you how we get our take-out in the Grimmell household.” He picks up the carrier, and with a grin, he leads me through the kitchen, and out the back door.

We walk down the driveway towards the garage. As we approach it, he says “Open sesame,” and the nearest roll-up door rises silently as we approach.

“Oh! That’s so…so… Austin Powers, ha ha! And that must the quietest garage-door opener I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s my own design,” he says. “Voice-recognition door opener. I replaced some of the metal parts in the motor with parts made of a kind of polymer. And also, the pulley chain. It makes it quieter. That, and lots of grease.”

“Oh. Your design?”

“Yup.” He grins. “I, uh, make robots, as you know. And remote-controlled vehicles. Among other things. Some are toys, some are commercial use, some, military. ” We walk under the open garage door and a row of fluorescent overhead lights comes on, illuminating half a dozen workbenches, their tops filled with tools and strewn with wires, gears, pistons, chains, and myriad parts.

The workbenches are lined with drawers and a long anti-fatigue mat lies on the floor in front of each one. Stools of varying heights are scattered around. At the end of each bench is a computer terminal, mounted on a stand-up station.

It smells faintly like metal and mineral oil.

“Holy shit!” My eyes are darting everywhere, trying to take it all in. “Is this like, your World Domination Headquarters or what?”

He guffaws, and puts an arm around my shoulder, giving me a quick squeeze.

Electricity leaps into my body from his touch.

Then, he lets go so quickly that I wonder if I imagined it.

Putting the baby carrier down on a clean surface, he looks in on Andrew before turning back to me.

“Welcome to MG Works. I design prototypes here, with the help of a couple people. This is my shop, office, and research and development lab.”

“Prototypes? Shit! That sounds so…science-y! But…is this the whole garage? Or, does it just look bigger on the outside?”

“No, this is about half. The other half holds my cars. There’s additional office space on the second floor, plus a small apartment. ”

“Wow, Mason. This is really impressive.”

Prototypes! Research and development? Mason is not just sexy, he’s smart and geeky too.

Suddenly, I feel kind of intimidated. Out of my league. I’ll be lucky if I can think of a single intelligent thing to say now.

But then he unknowingly rescues me with his boyish enthusiasm. “Lemme show you one of my toys. It’s how I fetch my take-out dinners now.”

Grinning like a kid, he picks up a remote, then slides open a large cabinet. Inside is what looks some kind of Lego project for scientists…like a big, metallic kid’s toy.

But this toy is outfitted with electronics and gadgets, and stands on four rigid legs that end in what look like little skis. Four other articulated appendages, curled towards each other, sprout from a thick, oblong body about the size of a shoebox.

Arching from the top casing of the unit are six downward facing rotors.

Mason taps something on the remote. Lights come on around the perimeter of the machine’s body, six white, one red, while the rotors on the machine whir into life.

“It’s a UAV,” Mason says. “I built it.”

“UAV?”

“Unmanned Aerial Vehicle. A drone! I call it Fetch. It’s a very old model, based on the first prototype I ever built. The white lights are for visibility and illumination. The red light is the camera indicator, and the four middle legs are a new addition.” He pushes a joy stick and the drone lifts off, nearly silently, and slowly comes forward, stopping to hover in front of us. “They’re for carrying a payload. They fold and lock into place.”

The machine lands on the floor. Mason looks around and then picks up a folding leather satchel for tools. He puts a couple of wrenches inside it, closes it, and then does something to the remote.

The four articulated legs open with a thin whining sound. Mason puts the satchel between them and the legs ratchet closed, holding the item in place.

Then he touches a sequence of buttons on a keypad mounted on the casing, and the drone lifts off, more slowly but steadily. He sends it out the door and it climbs in altitude, then turns and heads east.

Mason goes to a computer monitor and turns it on. A slightly staticky picture of a larger roof, a smaller roof, and rolling lawns and countryside comes into view.

“You’ve seen drone footage, I’m sure. The display’s showing what the camera sees.” He turns to me, smiling. “It’s hovering over us right now. In a minute, I’ll place an order with Ron at Ron’s Ristorante and send the drone over to pick it up.”

“What? Cool! I’ve been to Ron’s many times. I didn’t even know they do take-out.”

“Take-out service is for select clients,” he says. “most of whom drive over to pick up their orders. I’m pretty sure I’m the only guy who sends a drone for his take-out.”

He’s grinning but his tone is full of humor. If he’s impressed with himself, he’s hiding it well.

He takes out his phone and offering me a small smile, starts tapping it. No, he seems pretty down-to-earth about it.

Smiling back, I say, “And…the, um, staff at the restaurant obviously know what to do when the drone arrives?”

“Usually Ron or the chef take care of it. They’re UAV enthusiasts, too.”

“Mason, this is so cool!” I can’t keep the smile off my face.

“Heh. Drone deliveries for small items is going to be big one day soon. You may have heard, online retailers are testing it in some areas. I happen to be among the early inventors of UAV and robot tech, so they’re using my later prototypes. You know what else is awesome about it?”

“What?”

“It’s great for the environment, keeping cars off the road for short trips. And…the food comes back piping hot.” He grins. “So…what do you feel like eating?”

* * *

True to his word, the UAV fetches our food from Ron’s in half an hour, and everything is fresh-from-the-oven hot.

We put Andrew in his bassinet in Mason’s room and turn on the brand-new baby monitor. We watch him for a moment before we go eat. The baby sleeps peacefully, his rosebud mouth pooching in and out adorably.

He’s such a beautiful baby. So sweet! I feel so sorry for him, and his mother, and for whatever happened to cause this situation. But at least, his father will give him a good life.

And just for a moment, I let myself picture me and his father, together…seeing the baby’s first smile…his first steps…taking a photo of his first tooth…celebrating his first word.

No. I’m too young…I need to play, to party and be silly and irresponsible still…don’t I?

* * *

In the kitchen, we sit down to eat, the monitor on the table between us.

“So…you’re still not curious about who I am, huh?”

I pause, my fork halfway to my mouth, checking his face carefully for any signs of smugness or self-satisfaction. Nope. Not a trace. He’s looking at me blandly.

What’s this all about then? If he’s an egomaniac, maybe it’s lurking in the background just waiting to jump out.

It so, it’s too bad, because I’m liking him, a lot. Maybe I could nip this in the bud then, so I can still like him for the remainder of my stay.

“No. Look, Mason. I see that you have money. This is a nice place and all. You’re obviously a techie and techies make good money. I’m cool with that.”

“Sam, that’s not…”

“Please, just listen. If you’re also famous, I don’t care. You’re not famous to me. My dad has some famous clients, some rich and famous friends. I don’t like any of them, quite honestly. But so far, I like you––quite a lot, actually––and I’d like to keep on liking you, if that’s alright with you.“

“Samantha…wow! That’s not…I didn’t mean it like that.” He snorts, but once again he’s eyeing me with a new respect. “Maybe that didn’t come out quite the way I intended. I’m trying to…ugh, this is weird. Awkward.”

“Well I’m sorry but I am not the kind of person who gets star-struck. And I’m not up on cutting edge science and technology. Don’t get me wrong, it’s very interesting. And cool! I’d love to learn more about it and all, but I haven’t paid much attention to STEM stuff up ’til now.”

He’s watching my mouth again as I’m talking. He’s taking bites of food and chewing but I can tell he’s trying not to laugh.

“You’re laughing. Why are you laughing?” I’m trying to stay annoyed but he’s making it impossible. That smile…those eyes. “What?”

“Samantha. It’s important to me that you aren’t here because you know who I am. That’s what I’m getting at. Just as it’s important to me to keep that information from Andrew’s mother, as long as I can.”

“Oh.” I look at him sheepishly.

“Yeah.” He nods, chuckling. “I was never famous in my own right. My family was, though. You might know the name. But, my name is no longer the same. I changed it when I came of age.”

“Really? That sounds kind of…serious. Why would you do that? To avoid publicity?”

“Yes. The thing I care about now is this: If Andrew’s mother found out, it might change her mind about everything. I mean, I don’t know her. Maybe not! But…it could. It would for most people, I think. No offense to your dad, but a lot of lawyers are sharks. She could get a lawyer who sees nothing but dollar signs, okay? A lawyer who pushes her to use the situation to try getting the sympathy of the courts, maybe even get everything overturned and gain custody and child support for herself.”

“Bullshit! The courts would see right through that!”

“Would they? Even if they did, they always err on the side of parental access…or at least, keeping those options open. If she were to try to make a case for it, maybe they’d believe that she relinquished her rights under duress. Maybe they’d think I pressured her. Maybe they’d give her access or even, custody, and force me to pay her child support.”

“She…wait. You didn’t pressure her, did you?”

“No! She contacted me out of the blue. I didn’t know she was pregnant. I don’t even know what her problem is, why she can’t be a mother. She wouldn’t talk to me about it and in the end, it doesn’t matter. So? What am I supposed to do? I have to worry about my son now.”

“Yes, I agree. He’s the priority.”

“Right. So your dad got her to give us what medical history she knows, give up her rights and that’s it. All I know is…as soon as I found out that Andrew is mine, and that she didn’t want him, I knew I had to do everything I could to bring him home. Where he belongs.”

“And if she does show up…?”

“Your father and I discussed this extensively. If she finds out who I am a long time from now, but hasn’t shown any interest in her son in the interim, then she won’t be a threat. She’ll have no chance with the courts and I can grant or deny or control her access, according to my best judgement. But if she shows up now, or even in the near future…? Who knows.”