More Than Perfect(45)

 “Sort of surprising she’d go along with the plan this fast. Not something most women would do, as you’ve discovered for yourself, especially when you’re not interested in a…” Pretorius groped for a word both appropriate, as well as tactful. “A traditional marriage. Yeah, that’s it. Traditional. You must have offered quite an incentive package.”

 Lucius hesitated, his eyes narrowing. “Not really.”

 In fact, now that he thought about it, the terms were heavily weighted in his favor. He attempted to run through their conversation in his office, when he’d first outlined their devil’s bargain, as she’d referred to it. Why had she agreed? Money? Maybe that played a part in it, though she’d never betrayed any avaricious traits before. And he’d have noticed. A man in his position possessed impeccable radar when it came to greedy women.

 Career advancement? Also unlikely. She’d be tied to him for the next five to six years, caring for house and home. Not the smartest way to advance your career, regardless of the payout at the end of their contract. She’d need to retrain. Work her way back up the corporate ladder. Even with his assistance, that would take time. He’d always sensed she took pride in her abilities on the work front. That it was somehow tied to her self-esteem and sense of overall accomplishment. Why give that up to become a wife and mother?

 So, why had she agreed to his proposal? He couldn’t actually remember her ever saying.

 “I’ve got to go,” he informed Pretorius, a trifle abruptly. “Speak to your assistant about her discretion issues. Or should I say, indiscretion?”

 “Will do. And congratulations. I hope you and Ms. Colter will be very happy together.”

 Lucius hung up the phone and glanced toward the elevator. When he’d left his bed, Angie had still been out cold. And with good cause. They’d made love into the deepest, richest part of the night, entwined in passion, then in sleep, lost in an endless embrace as the star-studded inkiness of the dark released its hold to the burning reds and purples of a new dawn. It was as though neither of them could get enough of the other. Even when sleep claimed them they’d remained locked together, craving the intimacy that came through touch and scent.

 He crossed to the elevator and returned to his apartment. Angie’s voice came from the direction of the kitchen and he found her there with Mikey. The baby sat cushioned in a high chair, and it seemed to Lucius that his balance improved by the day. She offered him a bite of cereal mixed with mashed banana, laughing when he grabbed the spoon and attempted to feed his cheek.

 “Close, but no cigar, champ,” Angie informed him, gently wiping him clean with a damp washcloth.

 She took renewed aim at his gaping mouth, allowing him to assist, and this time the food found its way home and he ate as if they’d been starving him. She must have heard or sensed Lucius’s presence because she glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “Morning.”

 “I’m sorry he woke you,” Lucius said. “I planned to feed and change him, but thought I had time to make a quick phone call first.”

 “No problem. I found the list of safe foods for him on the refrigerator and took it from there.”

 “It’s a system Keesha and I worked out.”

 “Smart.”

 Angie wore one of his T-shirts and a pair of sweat shorts he used for workouts. The black cotton tee was too big for her, the neckline slipping off one narrow shoulder. It made her appear even more delicate and feminine. Fine-boned and fragile. Someone to protect the way he needed to protect Mikey. She hadn’t taken time to brush her hair and the tousled curls tumbled down her back. She shoved absently at them, hooking the strands behind her ears, not realizing she’d smeared a bit of cereal and banana on her cheek.

 Lucius steeled himself against a sight that impacted in the region of a heart he’d thought long dead. Steeled himself against the craving to take. To hold. To safeguard.

 “Why did you agree to marry me?” he asked abruptly.





Eight

For a split second Lucius caught a glimmer of panic in Angie’s expressive eyes.

 Then she laughed. “Pity.”

 He struggled to process the word. “What?”

 “Yup, it’s true.” She turned back to Mikey. “I was overwhelmed with pity. Poor you. Couldn’t even buy yourself a wife. Thank goodness I felt sorry for you or you’d still be trolling for a bride.”

 “You’re marrying me because you pity me?”