“More than okay. Perfect.” And not just the excuse. While she still basked in the afterglow of amazing sex, everything about Lucas was perfect.
The deep blue dress matched her eyes and eclipsed the red one in style and fit. Lucas leaned against the doorjamb of the bathroom, watching her dress with a crystalline focus and making complimentary noises. His attention made her feel beautiful and desired, two things she’d never expected to like.
Lucas Wheeler was a master of filling gaps, not creating them. Of giving, not taking. Ironic how she’d accused him of being selfish when trying to convince him to marry her.
As they entered the Calliope Foundation Charity Ball, a cluster of Wheelers surrounded them. Lucas’s parents, she already knew, but she met his grandparents for the first time and couldn’t help but contrast the open, smiling couple to Abuelo’s tendency to be remote.
Matthew joined them amid the hellos, and his cool smile reminded her she owed Lucas one asset of a wife. It was the very least she could do in return for his selflessness over the entire course of their acquaintance.
A room full of society folk and money and lots of opportunities to put her foot in her mouth were nearly last on her list of fun activities, right after cleaning toilets and oral surgery. But she kept her hand in Lucas’s as they worked the room; she laughed at his jokes, smiled at the men he spoke to and complimented their wives’ jewelry or dress.
There had to be more, a way to do something more tangible than tittering over lame golf stories and smiling through a fifteen-minute discourse on the Rangers’ bull pen.
“Are these clients or potential clients?” she asked Lucas after several rounds of social niceties and a very short dance with Grandfather Wheeler because she couldn’t say no when he asked so nicely.
“Mostly potential. As I’m sure you’re aware, our client list is rather sparse at the moment.”
“Is there someone you’re targeting?”
“Moore. He still hasn’t signed. Matthew invited another potential, who’s up here from Houston. George Walsh. He’s looking to expand, and if I’m not mistaken, he just walked in.”
If Walsh lived elsewhere, the Lana fiasco probably factored little in his decision process. “Industry?”
“Concrete. Pipes, foundations, that sort of thing. He’s looking for an existing facility with the potential to convert but wouldn’t be opposed to build-to-suit.” He laughed and shook his head. “You can’t be interested in all this.”
“But I am. Or I wouldn’t have asked. Introduce me to this Walsh.”
With an assessing once-over, he nodded, then led her to where Matthew conversed with a fortyish man in an ill-fitting suit.
Matthew performed the introductions, and Cia automatically evaluated George Walsh. A working man with calluses, who ran his company personally and preferred to get his hands dirty in the day to day. Now what?
Schmoozing felt so fake, and she’d never been good at it. Lucas managed to be genuine, so maybe her attitude was the problem. How could she get better?
Though it sliced through her with a serrated edge, she shut her eyes for a brief second and channeled her mother in a social setting. What would she have done? Drinks. Graciousness. Smiles. Then business.
Cia asked Walsh his drink preference and signaled a waiter as she chatted about his family, his hobbies and his last vacation. Smiling brightly, she called up every shred of business acumen in her brain. “So, Mr. Walsh, talk to me about the concrete business. This is certainly a booming area. Every new building needs a concrete foundation, right?”
He lit up and talked for a solid ten minutes about the weather, the economy and a hundred other reasons to set up shop in north Texas. Periodically, she threw in comments about Lucas and his commitment to clients—which in no way counted as fabrication since she had firsthand experience with his thoughtful consideration and careful attention to details.
Somehow, the conversation became more than acting as an asset to Lucas and enhancing his reputation, more than reciprocation for upholding his end of the bargain. She’d failed at drumming up donations for the shelter, despite believing in it so deeply. Here, she was a part of a partnership, one half of Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler, and that profoundly changed her ability to succeed.
It reiterated that this marriage was her best shot at fulfilling her mother’s wishes.
“Did I do okay?” she whispered to Lucas after Matthew took Walsh off to meet some other people.
Instead of answering, he backed her into a secluded corner, behind a potted palm, and pulled her into his arms. Then he kissed her with shameless heat.
Helplessly, she clung to his strong shoulders as he explored every corner of her mouth. His strength and solid build gave him the means to do the only thing he claimed to want—to take care of her. It wasn’t as horrible or overbearing as she might have anticipated.