More Than Perfect
Day Leclaire
“There’s one part of this job we haven’t discussed.”
“Which is?”
“Sex.”
“Ah,” Lucius said. An expression came into his eyes, one that had her throat going dry and a hot pool of want forming in her belly. Waves of it lapped outward, roiling and seething in endless demand. “How could I have neglected something so vital?”
“I gather that’s a yes.”
“No.”
She stiffened, shocked by his answer. Had she miscalculated? Had he considered their kiss a mild and forgettable flirtation, easily forgotten and dismissed, while she’d built it up into something far more serious and memorable?
“Not a yes?” she asked faintly.
“Not a yes,” he responded gravely, “but rather a hell yes.”
Dear Reader,
More Than Perfect brings together two people who have experienced betrayal and must learn to trust again. Add to the mix a baby in desperate need of a mother and father, and you end up with one of my favorite types of books to write—one that is emotional, has a touch of humor and deals with issues from the past that must be overcome.
Trust is one of my favorite themes to explore because so many of us have trust issues. We’ve all been let down by those we love and must decide to either keep our hearts tucked safely away, or take that leap of faith. I’ve always chosen to try one more time, to take the risk and hope that somehow, someway everything will work out. So, it never fails to delight me when love overcomes the scars and pain from the past.
For those of you with scars, I wish healing. For those wondering whether or not to take the plunge again, I hope you’ll go for it. And for those of you who’ve risked everything, I wish you the ultimate success … love.
Warmly,
Day Leclaire
About the Author
USA TODAY bestselling author DAY LECLAIRE is described by Mills & Boon
as “one of our most popular writers ever!” Day’s tremendous worldwide popularity has made her a member of the “Five Star Club,” with sales of well over five million books. She is a three-time winner of both a Colorado Award of Excellence and a Golden Quill Award. She’s won RT Book Reviews Career Achievement and Love and Laughter Awards, a Holt Medallion and a Booksellers’ Best Award. She has also received an impressive ten nominations for the prestigious Romance Writers of America’s RITA
Award.
Day’s romances touch the heart and make you care about her characters as much as she does. In Day’s own words, “I adore writing romances, and can’t think of a better way to spend each day.” For more information, visit Day at her website, www.dayleclaire.com.
More than
Perfect
Day Leclaire
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To friends and family
who have been with me from the beginning.
My thanks and my love.
Prologue
He awoke to soft morning light and an empty bed.
Lucius Devlin turned his head toward the subtle indent where Lisa should have been … and wasn’t. In the distance, he caught the soft murmur of her voice and couldn’t quite decide if he felt relief or regret that she hadn’t left.
Last night had been a mistake. A bad one.
He rolled off the mattress and crossed to his dresser. In the bottom drawer he found an old pair of drawstring sweatpants and yanked them on before heading to the kitchen. Lisa was there and at his appearance, she ended her call and flipped her cell phone closed. She sat at the table, wearing her red power suit from the day before, a cup of freshly made coffee resting at her elbow. Thank God she’d made coffee. Right now he needed it almost as desperately as he needed air to breathe.
She regarded him with eyes every bit as dark as his own while he filled a sturdy mug to the brim. “You’re dressed,” he said, stating the obvious. He took a swift, settling hit of caffeine, his eyes narrowing at her through the haze of steam. “I gather you’re leaving?”
“Yes.” She played with her cell phone with long, supple fingers and actually allowed a slight frown to crease the space between her winged brows. Damn. If she were risking wrinkles, that meant it was serious. “I am leaving, this time for good.”
“Or until you and Geoff have another fight?” He gestured toward her phone. “I’m guessing he called.”
Her mouth tightened a fraction. “You always were too smart for your own good.”
“That makes two of us.”
Lisa sighed. Leaning back in her chair, she crossed her spectacular legs and eyed him with reluctant amusement. “Why couldn’t you have been a stupid billionaire and made the incredible mistake of marrying me when we were first together?”
He took her question at face value. “Probably because stupid and billionaire are incongruous since I wouldn’t be a billionaire for long if I were stupid.”
“That’s true in your case.” She tilted her head to one side, her gaze watchful. “I’m not sure you can say the same about Geoff.”
Great. Now she’d forced him into the bizarre position of defending his best friend to the woman who’d slept with them both—first with him, then when he wouldn’t stick a ring on her finger, she’d moved on to Geoff, the head of his PR department at Diablo, Inc. Lucius suspected it was a foolish attempt to force a proposal out of him, one that had proved a spectacular failure.
“Geoff is neither a billionaire, nor stupid,” Lucius informed her. “Naive, perhaps, especially when it comes to women like you. But he’s solid gold.”
“Unlike us?” She didn’t need his silence to confirm her question. She already knew the answer. She picked up her cup and took a dainty sip. “He’s an angel with two devils sitting on his shoulders, poor boy. Would you care to place a small wager on which devil he’ll listen to, Lucius? Which devil he’ll obey?”
He refused to participate in whatever game Lisa seemed intent on playing. “What do you want?”
“From you? Nothing.”
“And from Geoff?”
She offered a catlike smile, full of sly confidence. “I have what I want from him, as well.”
Lucius stiffened, something in her tone warning of incoming mortar fire and he braced himself for the hit. “Which is?”
“A marriage proposal.” Her smile grew. “That was Geoff on the phone. He’s seen the error of his ways and asked me to hop on the next plane to Vegas with him. We’ll be married this afternoon and on our honeymoon by tonight.”
The words pounding through Lucius’s brain were coarse and crude enough that he refused to speak them aloud, even in front of Lisa. “Fast work. You roll out of one man’s bed one night and into another’s the next, then back again on the third.” He tilted his head to one side in consideration. “I think there’s a name for that ….”
Her smile died and her dark eyes swam with accusation and fury. “At least when I roll back into Geoff’s bed I’ll be wearing a wedding ring. That’s more than you ever offered.”
“And if I call and tell him where you were last night?”
“He already knows. Why do you think he proposed?”
For the first time he caught a crack in her legendary control. “I’m sure you’ll be relieved to hear he forgives me. Forgives us both.”
This time Lucius did swear aloud. “Don’t do this, Lisa. He won’t survive marriage to you. You’ll eat him alive.”
And maybe that’s why he’d allowed her to talk him into a final fling last night, in the hopes that Geoff would hear about it and finally see Lisa for what she was. An opportunist. An amoral cat who’d bed down with anyone who could afford her price. Instead, all he’d managed to do was guarantee his best friend a marriage made in hell. Great. Just great.
“If you didn’t want me with Geoff, then you should have been the one to offer marriage. But you’re just too damn clever for your own good, too intent on manipulating your world and everyone in it.” She shoved her porcelain cup and saucer aside with a quick little jerk. The coffee sloshed over the rim and stained the virginal white saucer in bitter darkness. “I’m marrying Geoff and that’s the end of it. I can make him happy and I fully intend to.”
“What do they say about the road to hell?” He snapped his fingers. “Oh, right. That smear of pavement is one long, filthy tarmac of good intentions.”
“In that case, I’m going to hell, though I doubt I’m going there alone. You’ll be right there beside me.” She shoved back her chair and stood. To his surprise tears glittered in her eyes. “Would you like to know what’s funniest of all? Geoff wants to start a family right away. It’s the one thing we both agree on. I may be a gold digger, but I’m a maternal one.”
A fierce wave of cynicism swept through him. “Not to mention that when your marriage bombs, that little tyke you pop out ensures nice, fat child support payments to go along with that nice, fat alimony check.”
Instead of his words sending her up in flames as he expected, it cooled her. “You’re a total son of a bitch, Lucius. Thanks for reminding me of that fact.” She snatched up her phone, shoved it into her purse and faced him with a pride he could only admire. “And one of these days I plan to make you eat those words. I may not want Geoff the way I want you, but he’s a good man. A decent man. I haven’t had many of those in my life. I plan to make him very happy. Delirious, in fact. And I hope you’re stuck watching us enjoy that happiness for the next fifty years. That way you can choke on it.”
And with that, she swept out the door.
One
“You aren’t just a devil, you’re a total son of a bitch!”
Angie Colter’s head jerked up at the unmistakable sound of a hand striking flesh and she swiveled to stare at the closed door of her boss’s office—Lucius Devlin, owner and CEO of the Seattle based company, Diablo, Inc., a multibillion dollar business that specialized in buying and rehabbing commercial real estate. The next instant the door slammed open and Ella, the gorgeous redhead Angie had ushered in not ten minutes earlier, emerged. The woman had been Devlin’s latest in a long string, lasting a full two weeks. A record breaker among the spate of women her boss had seen over the past three months.
“I don’t know how you could possibly think I’d be interested in your insane proposal.” With that, she swept across the plush expanse of carpet on impossibly high heels, her backside twitching out her profound irritation as she headed for the private elevators.
Okay. That was interesting and added to Angie’s growing suspicion that something was up with Lucius. She hadn’t figured out what, but suspected the six-month-old baby he’d received guardianship of a short three months earlier was somehow responsible. The baby, Mikey, was the son of the former head of PR for Diablo, Geoff Ridgeway. He and his wife, Lisa, had died in a train wreck in Europe shortly before Christmas, appointing Lucius the guardian of their infant son. From the moment Angie had first taken Mikey into her arms, she’d fallen in love with the little guy. Maybe it was due in part to the faint ticking of her biological clock. More likely it was those huge dark eyes staring so gravely into hers. Whatever the cause, an emotion unlike any she’d ever experienced before had fisted around her heart and refused to let go.
Angie glanced toward Lucius’s office in open speculation. Initially, she’d thought her boss was searching for the perfect nanny, someone to replace the sweet-natured woman who’d accepted the job in a temporary capacity. But lately … Unable to contain her curiosity, she snatched up her electronic tablet and stylus. Crossing to the open doorway, she gave a brisk knock.
Her boss stood in profile, drowning a handful of ice cubes in scotch. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him sprawled the city of Seattle, modestly veiling its beauty behind a misty, gray morning. At six foot two Lucius “The Devil” Devlin possessed a powerful physique at odds with a job that required endless hours behind a desk. No doubt he’d spent some of his billions on a home gym, filled with the best equipment money could buy. And used it with the same ruthless efficiency that characterized everything else he did in his life. He was a gorgeous man with hair the color of soot and eyes as dark and mysterious as a moonless night. A man who could steal a woman’s breath without even trying. And the first time he’d tossed his devil-may-care smile in her direction, he’d stolen her heart … and quite possibly her soul.
Maybe that was why she’d committed the ultimate folly and fallen in love with him.
He glanced over his shoulder at her and frowned. “This isn’t a good time.”
The scowl snapped her back into focus. Ignoring his order, she stepped into the office. “Try using some of that ice on your jaw,” she instructed crisply. “It’ll help with the swelling.”
“She packs quite a punch for a woman.”
“I don’t doubt it. Ella can bench-press a hundred and a quarter.”
He swiveled to fully face her. “Get out. Seriously?”
“Dead serious. We go to the same gym. You’re even more lucky she didn’t use those Christian Louboutin heels on you. I’ve seen what she can do in our kickboxing class. She’d have skewered you like a shish kebab.”
“She never mentioned she knew you.”
Angie didn’t doubt it. That would involve connecting with someone of the female sex. Ella only had eyes for men. “I doubt she noticed me. I don’t exactly stand out.”
Lucius tossed back the scotch, then took her suggestion and pressed the iced glass against the red mark darkening his jaw. His gaze swept over her. Even though he stripped her with that swift look, it was in a—sadly—asexual manner. Not that it surprised her. She knew what he saw. She’d come to the conclusion long ago that she had a head for business and a bod for … well, business.
At five foot eight, she was as slender as a reed, her curves best classified as subtle. Granted, she possessed an attractive enough face and great hair, even if she did keep it confined in an elegant twist, the color containing every shade of brown known to man. But her most attractive feature were her eyes, a brilliant aquamarine that her former lover had called “unnerving.” Of course, that was right before he’d dumped her for her five-foot-two, blonde and buxom—former—best friend, whom he’d promptly married. Nine months later they produced the baby she’d dreamed of having with him, and that he’d claimed he not only didn’t want, but would never want. Maybe that was why Angie had chosen to throw every scrap of her time and energy into her career. While Britt was giving birth to Ryan’s baby, Angie secured the prime job as Lucius Devlin’s PA. She hadn’t quite decided who got the better deal, which told her that maybe her feelings for Ryan hadn’t run as deep as she’d thought.
“Ella didn’t notice you because you’re female,” Lucius stated, echoing her earlier thoughts. “Not because you don’t stand out. The right clothes, the right hairstyle—”
She stiffened, pricked by his careless dissection. The hazards of loving a man who saw you as a piece of equipment rather than a human being. Damn him. Her chin shot up and she pinned him with her “unnerving” gaze, pleased to have found some use for it. “Oh, wow. Advice from Lucius ‘The Devil’ Devlin on how to transform myself into the perfect woman. Wait now. Let me take notes.” She flipped her electronic tablet over and allowed the stylus to hover above it. “Please, Lucius. Don’t keep me waiting. Other than the right clothes and hairstyle, how else am I lacking?”
“Hell, woman.”
She narrowed her eyes at his use of the word woman, pleased to see him wince. Huh. Maybe she’d patent the look. It was certainly coming in handy. “You should know all about hell, Lucius.”
A grim expression closed over his face and he snatched up the cut glass decanter, splashing more scotch into his glass. “I should and I do.”
Despite the threatening storm clouds, Angie refused to back down. “I don’t doubt it.” She lifted an eyebrow in open challenge. “Anything else you’d care to add about my appearance?”
He took a long swallow, regarding her over the rim of his tumbler with intense black eyes. “Not a chance.”
“I didn’t think so.” She gestured toward his glass. “Put the ice back on your face or you’ll have to explain that bruise to your clients. I shudder to think what sort of nosedive your reputation will take when you’re forced to admit you were coldcocked by a woman.”
“That’s not how I’m going to tell the story.” Still, she couldn’t help but notice that he rested the glass against his jaw—an aching jaw if she didn’t miss her guess.
She offered an angelic smile. “No, but it’s how I plan to tell it.”
“How the hell could I have thought you’d make the perfect PA?” he snarled. “I must have been out of my mind.”
“Agreed.” Unable to contain her curiosity, she asked, “What in the world did you say to Ella that made her so mad?”
His annoyance intensified. “You would think it was my fault.”
“Do I owe you an apology?”
She could see the internal debate rage, before he settled on admitting the truth. “No, it was my fault. I made the mistake of proposing to her.”
Angie struggled to breathe. He couldn’t have hit her any harder if he’d been the one doing the kickboxing. “What?”
He glanced her way and blew out a sigh. “Oh, get over it, Colter. This isn’t high school. We’re not talking about some grand romance. Hell, I’ve only known the woman for two weeks. I made a business proposition that involved marriage and for some reason that ticked her off. Go figure.”
Her world righted itself and she found she could breathe again. It took a second longer to settle her face into something that passed for mild interest. Another few seconds to gain control over her vocal cords so she didn’t sound as shrill as a steam whistle. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized just how bad she had it, just how desperately she’d fallen for him. His brilliance. His innate kindness, a kindness he worked so hard to encase in a cold, tough exterior. The wealth of inexplicable pain buried in his eyes, and no doubt his heart. In the year and a half she’d worked for him, she’d gotten to know the man behind the reputation. And with that knowing had come the sort of love she’d only played at with Ryan, skating across the surface of the emotion without embracing the true depths and scope.
Gathering her control, she allowed a cool smile to drift across her mouth. “You’re right, Lucius. I can’t imagine why any woman in her right mind would find a marriage proposal phrased as a business proposition in the least offensive,” she commented drily. “Go figure.”
Lucius set his glass down with a decisive click that caused the ice to shiver in warning. He took a step in her direction and fixed her with a dark, impenetrable gaze. “You have an opinion to offer on the subject?”
She didn’t answer the question directly, didn’t dare. “Is this about Mikey?” She couldn’t help the softening that came into her voice when she said the name, any more than she could help the softening that invaded her whole being when she held the baby in her arms and imagined what it would be like to have something so precious come from her own body.
He hesitated and she could tell that he wanted to rip her apart in order to release some of his fury toward Ella. But he wasn’t the type to take his aggression out on an innocent. He gathered himself, banked the fire, then nodded. “Yes,” he admitted. “This is about Mikey.”
“You’re attempting to find someone who would make a suitable wife for you and a good mother for the baby?”
“Again, yes.”
“And you expected Ella to jump at the opportunity after a two-week courtship?”
His teeth came together with a snap. “I had my reasons for believing it a distinct possibility. Are you done with the cross-examination?”
He’d reached the end of his rope and she responded accordingly. “Absolutely.”
“Then may I suggest we get some work done? We still have to finalize the schedule for my meeting with Gabe Moretti.”
She touched the screen of her tablet and called up the pertinent information. “He’s agreed to go in on the Richter building with you?”
“Only if I give him majority interest.”
“No doubt,” Angie replied. “But if he remodels it the way he did Diamondt Towers, it’ll be well worth the investment, even with only a minority stake.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“No, it never is.” He was a man who needed to hold the reins. Unfortunately, so was Gabe Moretti. “Will Moretti concede the point?”
“We plan to meet and discuss terms.”
Meaning … no. Moretti had no intention of giving up majority interest, which suggested a showdown between titans. What she wouldn’t give to see that! She touched an app on the screen that accessed Lucius’s calendar. “Would you prefer a lunch meeting or dinner?”
He considered, took another sip of his refilled drink before returning it to his jaw. “Dinner on Friday. Let’s make it at Milano’s on the Sound. Speak to Joe personally about the menu, would you?”
She made a quick notation. “I’ll take care of it. Eight o’clock work for you?”
“Only if it works for you.”
Angie’s poise faltered for a telling instant before she gathered herself back up. “Sorry?”
“Now that Ella’s out of the picture, I’ll need you to attend with me. You’re one of the most observant people I know. I could use your input on this.” His smile drew attention to features devil-perfect and sinfully attractive, and her heart gave a sharp, painful tug. “Problem?”
She dragged her gaze away from his dark, angel beauty and focused on the tablet, pretending to make a quick notation. “I’ll check my schedule and get back to you.”
“Right. You do that.”
She let the hint of mockery wash over her. “Next. I have several calls from a Pretorius St. John. He indicated it was a private matter. Something about a computer program he was personalizing for you. If it isn’t anything you want me to deal with, I’ll forward it to your PDA.”
“Go ahead and do that.”
She hesitated. “That name is familiar for some reason. Should I know it?”
“It’s possible. His nephew is Justice St. John, the robotics wunderkind. Pretorius specializes in computer software.”
Wow. “Okay, color me impressed that you have a software inventor willing to tweak one of his programs in order to fit your personal specifications.”
“You know, there are some days I think you forget who you’re working for.”
“Oh, dear. Not again.” She made an exaggerated curtsy. “I do apologize, Mr. Devlin, sir. I promise I’ll be more careful in the future.”
“See that you are.” His eyes glittered with laughter while he studied her, curiosity spilling into the intense darkness. “I don’t intimidate you in the least, do I?”
“No.”
It was the truth. For some reason he didn’t and never had. That hadn’t been her problem, mainly because she’d been too busy fighting her attraction for him to worry about his standing in the business community. Instead, she’d done everything within her power to conceal her reaction whenever they accidentally touched. To hide how desperately she’d like to experience his hands on her. His mouth. His body covering hers with nothing between them but the damp sheen of want. She closed her eyes briefly, closed off those sort of painful, wayward thoughts—something that grew more difficult with each passing day—and fought to regain her equilibrium.
Lucius was a closed door to her. What she felt for him would never become a reality and the sooner she accepted that fact the sooner she could move on. Only one problem with that plan. She didn’t want to move on. She wanted … him.
To her eternal gratitude, Lucius didn’t appear to notice anything wrong. “Your self-possession and your natural way of behaving around me are two of the qualities I most appreciate about you.”
If he only knew. “Just two?” she managed to tease.
“Fishing for compliments, Colter?”
“You bet.” She pretended to cast a fishing line and reel it in, forcing out a careless grin.
“Fair enough.”
He approached, circling like a shark, unnerving her for the first time in the eighteen months they’d worked together. Until now he’d regarded her almost like a piece of office furniture. Useful. Functional. An integral, if replaceable, cog in the wheel that was Diablo. This time when he looked at her it was through a man’s eyes. Her amusement faded and it took every ounce of that self-possession he’d applauded only moments before to maintain her poise and keep a calm, cool expression on her face. Her grip tightened on the electronic tablet and stylus and she could only hope he didn’t notice the whitening of her knuckles or the tension pouring off her. Though, knowing Lucius, he not only noticed but would use it against her.
“Do you know why I picked you out of all the endless candidates to be my PA?” he surprised her by asking.
“Not a clue,” she admitted. “I’m good at my job, but so were the other applicants, I assume.”
“You’re wrong,” he said softly. “You’re not good. You’re great.”
He’d stunned her. When she’d first started working for him eighteen months ago, he’d chosen her from a pool of dozens of equally efficient and qualified PAs, women—and men—who were the best in the country. Granted, Angie had worked hard for the opportunity, particularly since she’d failed in just about every other area of her life. But Lucius Devlin could afford to hire the very best, and deep down she couldn’t quite convince herself that she was the best. And yet, here he stood, insisting she wasn’t just good, but great.
“Great,” she repeated faintly.
“Don’t get a swelled head, Colter. Though you were great when I interviewed you, there were others who were better.”
“Then why …?” Her eyes narrowed, the truth hitting like a tidal wave. After she’d been offered the position, she’d worked longer and harder than she thought physically possible, throwing herself into the job to justify having been chosen. No doubt that’s why he’d hired her. He knew she’d go the extra distance, knew on some level she’d been desperate enough to throw her heart and soul into the position. Maybe the other women hadn’t been quite as committed. The knowledge that he’d used her with such deliberation gave her heart a small, painful twist. She’d been used before by Ryan and vowed at that time to never allow it to happen again. The fact that it had been Lucius who used her hurt all the more. “Damn it, Devlin. That’s low, even for you.”
He picked up on her intensity, caught the ripple of pain in her soft words. “If I’d known you then as well as I know you now, I’d have chosen a different method. But I needed to work you—hard—to make sure we were a good fit.” An odd expression swept through his gaze, something she couldn’t quite identify, but that caused her pulse rate to kick up a notch. “And we are a good fit, aren’t we, Angie?”
Her mouth tugged to one side in a reluctant smile. “So far. But if you play me like that again, we won’t be any sort of fit.”
“Fair enough.” He shot her a quick grin. “Still, you have to admit it worked. Not only did it work, but you’ve more than proved yourself. You’ve exceeded even my high standards.”
“You’re welcome,” she murmured drily.
“That staggering paycheck you receive is my thanks. I’ll even throw in a bonus if you go out and buy something decent to wear to our dinner with Moretti. I want him so focused on you that his reputation for being all business, all the time, will take a serious beating. Thanks to you, I expect him to be less business and more man. Got it?”
“I wasn’t hired for that,” she retorted tightly.
“You were hired to do the jobs I assign you. That’s the current job.”
Now what? Did she admit that she wasn’t equipped to handle the current job? Or did she simply allow him to figure that out for himself? Because there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that the level of excellence she exhibited at work perfectly balanced the level of mediocrity she exhibited in every other area of her life, particularly under the heading of male-female relationships. Hadn’t Ryan explained that to her in no uncertain terms when he “accidentally” tripped and fell naked on top of her best friend, Britt? And in their bed, no less. What had he told her …?
Oh, right. Though she had brains and business acumen in spades, but when it came to hearth and home—particularly the bedroom portion of the home—he found her decidedly lacking. Fair enough. She found Britt and Ryan’s concept of friendship equally lacking. That’s when she’d decided to stick to what she was best at … work. And she had, until she’d committed a huge error. That absolute no-no of no-nos. She’d fallen in love with the boss.
She spared Lucius a single, searing look. “I don’t know how, but I fully intend to make you pay for putting me through this humiliation.”
That stopped him. “You consider dinner out with your boss and a client humiliating?”
“No, I consider playing the part of a seductress for my boss and his client humiliating.”
Anger flared in Lucius’s dark gaze. “I don’t recall saying anything about seducing Moretti. Merely distracting him.”
“It’s not a role I’m comfortable with. And I resent being put in that position. You know damn well that’s not part of my job description.” She held up a hand before he could argue the point. “And don’t try and claim my job is whatever you tell me it is. That’s not going to fly with me. It’s whatever you tell me within the confines of the four corners of this office building. Period.”
Under any other circumstance, she would have found his look of pure masculine bewilderment and frustration amusing. Instead, it tempted her to follow Ella’s example and give him a good, hard smack upside his clueless head.
“You’ve attended business dinners before,” he protested.
“Not in the sort of role you’ve assigned for this one.”
He tossed back the last of his scotch and set the glass down with a sharp crack. “Fine. Show up looking like a piece of office furniture if that will make you feel better.”
Fury sparked, spilled over. “Office furniture?”
He stalked to the front of his desk, seized one of the twin chairs positioned there and swept it in a swift one-eighty. “Office furniture,” he repeated.
It took two full seconds to make the connection, to notice the simple white cream and black speckled fabric of the chair was an almost perfect match for the simple white cream and black speckled fabric of her suit. Hot color washed into her cheeks. Dear Lord. Earlier she’d thought he saw her as little more than a piece of office equipment rather than a human being. Apparently, that office equipment was furniture. Damn it! Maybe that was because she’d turned herself into office furniture.
When she’d first started work at Diablo, she’d deliberately chosen colors and designs that would help her blend with the background. Create the appearance of the perfect PA. Clearly, she’d taken the concept a step too far. Maybe a couple of steps too far.
“Well, hell,” she muttered.
“Exactly.”
She considered the problem for a moment. “How about this …? If I promise not to show up wearing chair upholstery, could I just be myself?” Something flickered to life in his eyes at the question. Sympathy? Compassion? She could only hope it wasn’t pity. “To be honest, I’m not cut out to play the part of Mata Hari.”
He inclined his head. “Fair enough. You can leave a few hours early tomorrow in order to purchase an appropriate dress and accessories. Save your receipts and I’ll reimburse the expense.” He checked his watch. “Keesha is due with Mikey at four, so I’ll need to have my desk cleared by then. Hold any calls unless they’re urgent. Oh, and don’t forget to forward the messages from Pretorius St. John.”
“Already done.”
He nodded in clear dismissal and Angie didn’t waste any time retreating to the outer office. She crossed to an antique table that held a coffee and tea service and helped herself to a restorative cup of hot tea. She didn’t know what had upset her more … Friday’s dinner, the fact that she’d transformed herself into a chair or the discovery that Lucius was actively looking for a wife.
Idiot! Of course she knew which upset her more. She was totally, ridiculously in love with a man who compared her to office furniture. How would she handle it if—when—he found a woman willing to marry him? If she were forced, day after day to watch the two enjoying the sort of marital bliss she’d always longed to experience? She closed her eyes. She knew how she’d handle it, what she’d force herself to do if—when—that event occurred.
If Lucius married, Angie would quit her job.
“Pretorius? Lucius Devlin here. We have a problem.”
A pained sigh slipped across the phone lines. “Don’t tell me the program still isn’t working.”
“The program still isn’t working.”
“Maybe you’re not waiting long enough before popping the question. How much time did you give this latest one?”
“Two weeks.”
“Two …” Pretorius sputtered. “Are you nuts? No woman in her right mind is going to agree to marry you after a two-week acquaintance. Why is it that brilliant men, men who are beyond adept at conquering their small corner of the world, think every other aspect of their life should be equally as simple and straightforward. Like I told Justice, these are women we’re talking about. Not robots. And not real estate.”
“My corner of the world isn’t small.”
Dead silence met his claim. Then Pretorius exploded. “That’s all you have to say?”
“No, I have quite a bit to say, starting with certain guarantees you made regarding the Pretorius Program. Your program was supposed to choose women receptive to the idea of marriage.”
“My program did choose receptive women. You were supposed to show some patience, remember? You’re just like Justice. You can’t just date for a couple days, or even a couple of weeks and then pop the question.”
“Why not?” Lucius spared a glance toward the door to his office, which Angie guarded with such skill and dedication. He couldn’t imagine a better employee. She’d become a vital part of his organization and he didn’t want to consider the possibility of ever losing her. “Your program helped me choose the perfect PA within that time frame. And Ms. Colter has proven to be an excellent employee.”
“We aren’t talking about an employee.” Frustration bled through the line. “We’re talking about a wife. The parameters for a wife are far more complicated than for an employee. In addition to personality issues and general likes and dislikes there’s physical and emotional compatibility. I need to assess each woman carefully and make sure that marriage to you and caring for an infant mesh with her long-term goals and desires. Otherwise you’ll find yourself dealing with an unhappy marriage, followed by a messy divorce.”
“I told you I don’t want any emotional involvement. I want a woman who will function in the capacity of wife and mother the exact same way Angie functions in the capacity of my PA.”
“Come on, Lucius. You’re being unreasonable and you know it. Why would any woman want such a cold, sterile marriage?”
Because he was cold and sterile. Because at the ripe age of twenty his father had died, and he’d allowed his desire for vengeance to rule his life. Because he didn’t trust. Was constantly watching for the next betrayal. How could you build a relationship when you refused to allow anyone in? When opening yourself up to someone guaranteed a wealth of pain?
Other than his father, Lucius had fully opened himself to one other person in his life. A brother in spirit, if not by blood. Geoff. And when Lisa had come between them, she’d destroyed what they’d once shared, utterly and finally. Had shut a door he now realized had been a vital part of his life. Now he stood adrift, a lonely rock in the middle of a tempestuous sea, solid in only one regard.
He would never trust again.
“Listen to me, Pretorius …. Why my future bride would accept a cold, sterile marriage is your problem, not mine. To be frank, I don’t give a damn so long as she’s a loving mother to Mikey and can create an efficiently run, beautifully appointed home. Someone who is comfortable entertaining clients. Now, I’ve submitted my order. You assured me you could fill it. So, fill it.”
Pretorius blew out a sigh. “Okay, fine. Give me a week to tweak the parameters some more. Then I’ll send you a new list. But I have to tell you … We’re running out of eligible women in the Seattle area.”
Okay, a negotiation. He knew everything there was to know about negotiating. “Then expand the search to the Northwest section of the country. Hell, open it up to the entire United States if it means I’ll have a wife within the next three months. You do that, I’ll throw in a nice, juicy bonus.”
“I may have to pull my assistant in on the project,” Pretorius said cautiously. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“Is he discreet?”
There was a long pause, then, “She can be bribed.”
“Fine. Then do it.”
“I’ll be in touch as soon as possible.”
“With a list of women that includes my future wife.”
Pretorius groaned. “Fine, fine. She’ll be on there.”
The instant Lucius disconnected the call, he crossed to the bank of windows overlooking a gray and rainy Seattle cityscape. It perfectly matched his mood. He planted his fists on his hips and lowered his head like a bull prepared to charge. Wanting to charge. Wanting to fight free of his current predicament.
How could Geoff do this to him? How dare he go and get himself killed, leaving Lucius with his and Lisa’s son. He didn’t want to be a guardian to the boy. How the hell was he supposed to raise him, turn him into the sort of man Geoff would have been proud to call his son, when it was so far beyond Lucius’s abilities? What had Geoff been thinking?
He picked up his glass of scotch and drank the last of it. He didn’t have the heart to be a father. Didn’t have the soul for the job. Couldn’t imagine years of playing the role of Dad to Mikey, despite having had the kindest, most loving father himself. The sort of father Mikey deserved. The sort of father Geoff would have been. It was so far beyond his scope and ability, he might as well have been asked to catch the moon in a butterfly net.
Damn it to hell! He swung around and heaved the glass across the room. The glass exploded, shattering against the wall, the dregs of scotch and ice raining down the wall like tears from heaven. So he would cheat. He’d hire someone—a wife—to take on his responsibilities. And he’d make her life so safe and secure and plush, she’d never leave him. Even though he couldn’t offer her everything a husband should, he could offer enough. A beautiful, richly appointed home. A man who could give her pleasure in the bedroom, even if he couldn’t give her love. A life filled with luxury, her every desire fulfilled, her every wish granted. It would be enough, wouldn’t it?
He glanced toward the door. Well, it would be enough for most women. Maybe not for his intrepid PA since her every wish and desire revolved around her excelling at her job. Now that he could understand. Understand and admire. Just thinking about her helped him gather himself. Relax. Realize that on this front, he was in control of his own destiny.
Thank God for Angie.
Two
“Not many women can wear that dress and get away with it,” Trinity commented. “It’s because you’re so slender.”
Angie tugged at the plunging drape of the bodice. “No, it’s because I’m built like a prepubescent boy.”
Trinity shook her head. “Honey, that figure is all woman. True, it’s not voluptuous, but no one would ever mistake you for a boy. And that shade of aquamarine is stunning on you. It really makes your eyes pop.”
After Britt’s betrayal, Angie had been reluctant to form a close relationship with another woman. She definitely hadn’t been interested in finding another best friend. Trinity had ignored every one of Angie’s defensive barricades and steamrollered right over them. It took a full six months before she’d broken through the final one, but once she had, the two became as close as sisters.
Angie gave a quick shimmy. “This dress is too tight. I think I need a size larger.”
“It’s perfect and you know it. It’s exactly what Devlin requested.”
It might be exactly what he requested, but it wasn’t at all what Angie wanted to give him. Or rather, showcase in front of Gabe Moretti. Maybe if this were a romantic dinner with Lucius, and the dress were meant for his eyes alone … The instant the thought—the dream—popped into her head, she ruthlessly plucked it out again. That would never happen.
She’d heard the gossip about Lisa and her on-again, off-again relationship with first Lucius and then Geoff Ridgeway. The relationship had ended in Lisa’s marriage to Geoff two short months after Angie accepted a job at Diablo, Inc.—over a year after her own split with Ryan. Rumors and gossip had flown through the office, hot and heavy, only abating when it became clear that the newly-weds were ecstatically happy. How many times had she driven that point home in an attempt to quell the rumor mill and give her boss some peace? When Lisa announced her pregnancy, and the couple had named Lucius the baby-to-be’s godfather, the last, lingering whispers had finally died off.
Even so, Angie saw what no one else did, what Lucius had successfully hidden from all but the most discerning eyes. He was beyond miserable, working day by day to put a stoic face on a hideous situation, which confirmed her suspicion that he’d been madly in love with Lisa. But she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’d never get over losing the love of his life to his best friend, even if Angie couldn’t understand why anyone would choose the affable, slightly geeky Geoff Ridgeway over the sexy-as-hell Lucius Devlin.
No doubt losing his soul mate explained his cold-blooded attempts to find a mother for Mikey. He wasn’t interested in any sort of emotional involvement; he simply wanted a permanent nanny for the baby—not that it was any of her business.
Angie forced her attention back to the task at hand and turned, frowning at the way the thigh-high skirt clung to her backside, the horizontal pleats giving the illusion of attractively rounded hips. The miniscule skirt showcased mile-long legs, while the three-inch heels made them seem even longer.
“Don’t you think it’s awfully short?” she asked Trinity in concern.
“Not even.”
“A bit low cut?” The question carried an unmistakably desperate air.
“You have great collarbones and a pretty chest.” Trinity approached, circled. “I say, show it off.”
“I’m not sure this is smart.”
“Hey, you said Devlin wanted you dressed to distract. Trust me. This’ll distract every living, breathing man within a ten-mile radius. Maybe fifty miles. How are you planning to wear your hair?”
“Up.”
Trinity planted her hands on her hips and tilted her head to one side, her spiky black hair, slanted green eyes and gorgeous golden-brown skin making her look like a cross between a cat and an elf. “I’m torn. The back is cut on the low side. If you wear your hair down, you lessen the impact of it. But you always wear your hair up.” She gathered the length in her hands and lifted it into a loose and careless ponytail, the curls cascading down the center of her spine. “Okay, this might work. Hair has that flirty, windblown look and yet, you can still see plenty of skin.”
“A must, I gather,” Angie said drily.
“A definite must,” Trinity agreed. “Go easy on the makeup. Let your body do the talking.”
“My body hasn’t done any talking for three full years.”
Trinity shot a swift glance over her shoulder. “Girl, don’t go admitting that where someone can overhear you. I mean, that’s just sad.”
“But true.”
“Mmm. You go out dressed like this more often and your body wouldn’t just be talking, it would be screaming out the ‘Hallelujah Chorus’ on a nightly basis.”
Angie didn’t dare admit that her body had never screamed the “Hallelujah Chorus.” Hummed a few bars, but that was about as close as she’d come. “What about jewelry?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject.
“Earrings. Dangles. Preferably silver.”
“I think I have something that might work. They’re beaten silver, a cascade of twisted hearts.”
“Oh, the irony.”
Angie grinned. “Not that I’m obsessive, or anything.”
“Hell, no. Why would you be?” She gave Angie a hip nudge. “Come on. Pay for the thing and let’s go have dinner and drinks. We should celebrate your release from the land of the average and banal.”
Stifling her qualms, Angie bought the dress and heels, then threw in some ridiculously expensive undergarments that were little more than scraps of lace held together by elastic threads. In for a penny … She found the rest of the evening far more enjoyable than the torture of clothes shopping. Trinity had a flair for distraction. Of course, it didn’t hurt that they split a bottle of wine over an Italian meal.
Several hours later, she sat back, replete. “I should have bought that dress in a size larger,” she confessed ruefully.
Trinity groaned. “Maybe two. It was those bread sticks. They do me in every time.”
“Funny. I would have said it was the tiramisu.”
“Not a chance. Desserts here don’t have calories. The waiter swore it was true. I might be able to give up bread sticks—or at least cut back a little—but don’t ask me to give up their tiramisu.”
“Fair enough.”
“So are you done brooding?”
Angie blinked in surprise. “Was I brooding?”
“He called you office furniture. That’s enough to make anyone brood. But I guarantee The Devil won’t call you that ever again.” Trinity nudged the shopping bags with the toe of her Choos, intense satisfaction sliding through her voice. “Not once he sees you in that dress.”
Angie flinched. “Don’t.” Though she’d never told Trinity how she felt about Lucius, there was no question her friend suspected something. “Nothing will ever happen. Not with him. He’s actually thinking about getting married.”
Trinity’s mouth dropped open. “No way.”
“It’s a sensible decision. He needs a mother for Mikey.”
“And has he found her or is he in the looking phase?”
“Looking.”
Trinity’s hazel eyes danced with mischief. “Well, then. Maybe that dress will have him looking in a whole new direction.”
It was just a joke, Angie told herself for the umpteenth time, smoothly changing the subject. A tantalizing possibility, but utterly impossible. Unrealistic. And considering it as anything else could only lead to one place. Utter heartbreak. She couldn’t go there. Not again. And so she chatted and laughed and tucked her heartache away until she could escape home.
The minute she entered her house, she carefully tucked her purchases into the far recesses of her closet where the outfit wouldn’t be in a position to taunt her for the next few days. And even though Lucius asked for the receipts, she refused to hand them over. It didn’t seem right to have him pay for the dress, not to mention the more intimate pieces she’d bought. Not when she could wear them on more occasions than their business dinner.
Friday came far too soon for Angie’s peace of mind. She left work promptly for a change and refused Lucius’s offer to pick her up. Easier to take a cab to the waterfront. She arrived at Milano’s on the Sound exactly on time. She loved Joe’s restaurant, loved the romantic ambience of it, even though tonight was strictly business. The layout of the interior appealed to her on some basic, feminine level, the overall design making clever use of spacing, angles and elegant furnishings. Joe had even created little nooks and oases that gave the diners the illusion that they were the only patrons present.
Andre, the maître d’, greeted her by name as he offered to take her wrap. She could only assume he had one of those impressive memories that allowed him to pair names with faces. His gaze swept over her in a discreet manner, but one which managed to convey deep masculine approval. It gave her confidence a boost, something she badly needed considering the two men she’d soon be dealing with.
“Mr. Devlin and Mr. Moretti have already arrived,” he informed her in an undertone. “They seem somewhat at odds.”
“Already?”
Andre lifted a shoulder in a shrug that clearly said, “Alpha men, what else do you expect?”
She smiled. “Have they been served drinks?”
“Not yet.”
“I have it on good authority that they’ll be ordering beef this evening. Why don’t you have a bottle of Glenrothes brought to the table. If I’m wrong and they order seafood, swap it out for Old Pulteney.”
“Of course, Ms. Colter. I’ll see to it immediately.”
He guided her to an exclusive section reserved for VIPs. While some of the tables allowed couples to sit hip to hip in the deep, cushioned benches facing the windows overlooking Puget Sound, the table Andre showed her to was a simple round. The two men sat across from one another like a pair of combatants. A vacant chair, facing the windows was clearly meant for her. Great. She loved playing Monkey in the Middle.
She didn’t know what alerted Lucius to her presence. But she could tell the instant he sensed her, his body stiffening, his gaze swiveling to narrow in on her. The patent disbelief in his gaze when he saw her almost made her laugh—or maybe cry since it told her precisely what he thought of her as a woman. He was quick to conceal his shock. Too late, she wanted to say.
He shoved back his chair and stood, approaching in order to take her hand in his and guide her to the table as though they were a couple, instead of boss/employee. “Gabe, you remember my PA, Angie Colter.”
Gabe Moretti was every inch as gorgeous as Lucius, with hair as raven dark. But instead of eyes to match, his were the shade of antique gold, filled with mystery and predatory intent. He stood to greet her, his gaze sharp and appraising. Then he smiled with singular charm and offered her his hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Ms. Colter,” he said in a voice that made her think of smoke.
“Please, call me Angie, Mr. Moretti.”
He inclined his head. “Let’s make it Angie and Gabe, shall we?” Before Lucius had the chance, he pulled out the chair for her, acting the part of the host—and no doubt annoying her boss in the process. “I believe the last time I saw you, you were shopping for a house. How did that turn out?”
Impressed that he’d remembered, she rewarded him with a broad smile. “I closed on a small cottage in Ballard last month. It needs a bit of work, mostly cosmetic, but considering I picked it up for an excellent price, I don’t mind in the least.”
“Smart. But, then, knowing Devlin, he only hires the best.” He shot Lucius a challenging glance. “Perhaps I should steal her from you.”
Lucius didn’t rise to the bait. “One of the qualities I look for in an employee is loyalty. You’re welcome to make Angie an offer. If she accepts, it simply means my assessment of her was mistaken and I’m better off finding a new PA.” He turned his black gaze on Angie and his smile smoldered like the smoke from hell. “Have I made a mistake?”
Good Lord, how in the world had she ended up in the middle of this tug-of-war? Instead of answering the question, she gave Andre a discreet nod, relieved beyond measure when he crossed to the table with the bottle of scotch. It proved the perfect distraction. With the ease of long practice, she turned the conversation to the latest financial market news. That successfully navigated them through the pouring of their drinks. Fortunately, the restaurant owner, Joe Milano, appeared just then with a platter of cold shellfish he’d prepared for them, personally.
He offered each man his hand, greeting them by name. He even took Angie’s hand, kissing it with a natural ease that charmed. “You are absolutely delectable this evening. Who’s going to look at my food when they can look at you?” he teased. “I should hide you away so my dishes can take center stage once again.”
“I’m not sure Maddie would approve of that,” Angie replied with an answering smile. At the mention of his wife’s name, his brown eyes lit up and the expression that came into his face caused a pang of envy. What she wouldn’t give to have a man look like that at the mere mention of her name. “Is she still trying to burn down the house?”
Joe chuckled. “Let’s just say I keep her well away from the kitchen. And since our daughters all seem to follow in her footsteps—with one delightful exception—they are also banned.”
“A future chef in the making?”
“Without question.” Joe didn’t linger after that. Wishing them buon appetito, he returned to the kitchen.
She didn’t give either of her dinner companions the chance to cause further trouble. Once their waiter served them choice tidbits of the appetizer, she nudged the conversation ever so gently into the direction of the most recent changes to building inspections and codes, a subject dear to the hearts of both men. That got them through the appetizers, over the hurdle of a visit from the sommelier and a prolonged discussion of dinner options, before leaping directly into a terse debate over which dish was Joe’s most impressive specialty.
Honestly, men never failed to exasperate her.
The instant their dinner arrived, she deliberately turned the conversation to the Richter project, hoping against hope it would get the focus off her and onto business where it belonged. “Your remodel of the Diamondt building was stunning,” she informed Gabe with utter sincerity. “Are you planning something similar for this venture?”
“To be honest, I mainly handle the structural renovations.” The instant he nudged his empty plate to one side, a busboy whisked it away.
“Who orchestrated the interior design? They did an impressive job of melding a forties retro feel with all the modern conveniences.”
Gabe hesitated, his eyes darkening in a way that warned of some deep-seated displeasure. “I hired a San Francisco firm for the remodel. Romano Restorations.”
“I’m not familiar with them.”
“No, they’re a fairly new firm.” He glanced at Lucius. “Assuming we can come to terms, we may want to consider them for this job, too.”
Lucius tilted his head to one side, his gaze shrewd. “You have reservations,” he stated, picking up on the same hesitation Angie had.
“Nothing to do with their work or their owner. Constantine Romano is outstanding at his job. It’s his wife who concerns me.” He gave a careless shrug, drawing attention to the impressive width of his shoulders and chest. “It’s a personal matter, one that has no bearing on business.”
A cynical light flickered to life in Lucius’s eyes and Angie could guess what he was thinking. “It’s not that,” she told him before she stopped to think.
Instantly, two sets of masculine eyes swiveled to dissect her. “It’s not … what?” they both demanded, almost in unison, and she winced.
She sat for a split second and stewed. When would she learn to keep her big mouth shut? Granted, Lucius had included her tonight because she tended to be good at assessing people and situations. She had a knack for reading between the lines and, for the most part, coming up with accurate conclusions. Still, he probably would have preferred to have that assessment made in private. Oh, well. Too late now.
Taking a moment longer to consider how to answer their question, she went with the truth. The two businessmen were far too sharp to believe anything less. She glanced at Lucius and fought to maintain her equilibrium beneath his narrow-eyed glare. “When Gabe says it’s personal, you assumed it meant he’d had an affair with Romano’s wife. It’s something else.” She took a sip of wine in the hopes of settling her nerves. It didn’t work. “Something clearly private.”
“How do you know?” Again in unison.
She sighed. Could the two be any more like peas in a pod? She turned to Pea #1, aka … her boss. “Because he’s angry, but not in a you-done-me-wrong sort of way. Plus, his anger isn’t directed at both of them the way it would be if he’d had his woman stolen from him.” And wouldn’t that comment cut close to the bone with Lucius, considering he’d lost his woman to his best friend. She hastened to turn to Pea #2, aka … her boss’s occasional competitor. “Considering the temperature just bottomed out to subarctic—shiver, shiver—it’s clearly a private matter that you wouldn’t talk about regardless of the incentive.” She smiled brightly. “More scotch, or should we get down to serious business over dessert?”
“Dessert and serious business,” Gabe decided.
“With a little more scotch,” Lucius added blandly.
Unfortunately, the going continued to be as turbulent as the chop of the Sound outside the restaurant window, mainly because throughout their discussion, Gabe initiated a mild flirtation with her. His hand brushed hers when he made a point. His fingers lingering on her shoulder whenever he asked a question. He even caught a springy curl and gave it a tug during some teasing remark.
Normally, she’d have flirted right back, fully aware Gabe wasn’t being the least serious. But one look at Lucius’s expression warned her to play it very, very cool. It didn’t make the least sense to her. Hadn’t he requested she flirt with Moretti? Wasn’t the goal to keep him distracted and off his game? Based on the dark looks she was receiving, the goal had changed without warning. Even worse, the only person distracted was Lucius.
By the time the last bite of a vanilla bean crème brûlée had been consumed, Angie hung from the end of her rope by a tattered thread. Gabe had somehow wrung more concessions out of her boss than she thought possible, a fact that left him smoldering dangerously. That fire threatened to burst to life when Gabe leaned in to kiss her farewell in what would have been an innocuous gesture if he hadn’t taken one look at Lucius and then shifted the aim of his kiss, and slowed it, so it caressed the side of her mouth.
Angie decided it might be in her best interest to make a hasty retreat to the ladies’ room while Andre ordered her a cab. With luck the two men would have already departed by the time she returned. She was half-right. Gabe was nowhere to be seen, but Lucius remained. He draped her wrap around her the instant she joined him.
She glanced toward the maître d’. “Has Andre ordered my cab?”
“Our cab,” he corrected. “And yes, he has.”
Well, damn. That’s what she got for counting the minutes until she could let down her guard and relax. Cursing her luck, she piled a full thirty back onto her tally. “Isn’t it out of the way for you?”
“I don’t mind. Besides, I’m curious to see the house you bought.”
Great. Just great. “No problem,” she murmured. Big problem. Huge problem. And one she didn’t have a hope in hell of avoiding.
“I appreciate your coming tonight,” he surprised her by adding. “Ah, here’s the cab now.”
She followed him from the restaurant into the night air, snuggling deeper into her wrap. The scent of salt and fish flavored the breeze along the waterfront. From the direction of Puget Sound whitecaps foamed beneath a sliver of moon and ferries plied the restless chop, their lights glittering against the blackened sea. The cityscape loomed overhead, glowing with life and vitality. Lucius held the door of the cab and she slid in, praying her skirt didn’t ride any higher. To her relief it stayed put, preserving her modesty. She heard Lucius give the driver the directions before joining her. Leave it to him to have every obscure detail at his fingertips, though it gave Angie an unsettled feeling, knowing that Lucius knew where she lived and could relay the address off the top of his head.
Maybe it had something to do with the thick blanket of darkness combined with the lateness of the hour, but his presence filled the back of the vehicle. Every so often a streetlight would pierce the shadows and play across hard, masculine angles. But that only served to emphasize the darkness of his eyes and make him appear tougher, more unapproachable. Like Bogey in one of his film noirs.
She searched for something to say, desperate to break the silence. Not that it was totally silent. Outside the city lived and breathed, filled with noise and lights and movement. But for some reason, it seemed distant and remote from within the confines of the cab, where his quiet breathing thundered in her ears and a visceral awareness grew with each passing moment. She peered into the night, assessing their distance from home. Still too far.
Way too far.
“I’m sorry the evening didn’t work out quite as planned,” she offered, desperate to break the silence.
“That wasn’t your fault.” His voice issued from the darkness. Quiet, yet carrying an edge that teased along her nerves, making her painfully aware of her scanty dress—and even scantier self-control. “It was mine.”
“I didn’t expect him to flirt with me,” she confessed. “I thought that was my job.”
“Yes, that took me by surprise, too.” His head turned. All but his eyes remained in shadow, darkness buried within darkness. But those eyes … Heaven help her, they pierced through the night and arrowed straight into her soul. Could he see her thoughts, sense what she felt? The rational part of her knew it wasn’t possible. The more visceral, feminine parts responded to the sheer maleness of him … and wanted. “If you’ll recall, I did mention that you’re a very attractive woman.”
“With the right clothes and hairstyle, that is.”
She could feel the burn of his gaze sweep over her. Strip her. “And I was right. That’s one hell of a dress, Colter. What there is of it.”
Her grip tightened on her wrap and she refused to look at him, afraid to look in case she lost the tenuous hold she maintained on her self-control. What would he do if she fisted her hands in that black silk jacket and yanked him to her? Kissed him in a way no employee had any business kissing her boss? Would he take her? Or reject her?
“You disapprove of my choice?” she asked.
The power of his gaze grew weightier, sharper. So tightly focused she could feel it laser into her very bones. “Hell, no. Though now that I’ve seen you in this, I’m not sure I can stand having you wear any more of those chair upholstery suits you favor.”
“That isn’t your decision.” Her head swiveled in his direction and she fought to keep her voice cold and distant. “Nor do you have any say in the matter.”
“And if I insist on having a say? If I claim the way you dress reflects on me? On Diablo?”
Furious words rose up, fighting for escape, trembling on the verge of utterance. To her profound relief, the cab pulled to a stop in front of her house. Not waiting for Lucius to play the part of the gentleman, she erupted from the cab. “Thank you for escorting me home. I’ll see you Monday morning.”
She slammed the door closed before he had a chance to reply and flew up the steps of her 1940s era Craftsman cottage. She fumbled in her envelope purse for her key, found it and was just about to jam it into the lock when she heard the slow, deliberate footsteps climbing the stairs behind her. She spun around. The cab was gone.
Lucius wasn’t.
“Well?” he asked. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
Bad idea. Very bad idea. “Sure.” Idiot. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“Sounds perfect.”
She fought to address him with a casual air and came within waving distance. Not that she fooled him. Lucius wasn’t a man to fool, or a man to make a fool of. He continued to regard her with a watchful gaze, seeing far too much for her peace of mind. “I’ll give you the grand tour while it’s brewing. Not that it’s all that grand,” she chattered. It took four tries to get her key into the lock and the door opened. She threw a brilliant smile over her shoulder. “I guess the first improvement on my list is better lighting so I can see to open the door.”
He returned her smile, though his eyes were knowing. Of course they were, damn him. Devlin never missed a thing. He stepped across the threshold and closed the door behind him, overpowering the dainty, feminine foyer with an excess of testosterone. He glanced around, nodding in approval. “This is charming, Angie.”
“It needs paint. Carpets. Upgraded plumbing.” Babbling! “But the electrical is sound, as is the basic structure.”
He took his time looking around. “I like that the place has its original molding and hardwood floors. So many of the older homes have had those things stripped out and sold to restoration companies.”
She led the way to the kitchen and started the coffee brewing. “Speaking of restoration, I was thinking about restoring the ‘40s look of the place, sort of like what Moretti did with the Diamondt building. Retro appliances. Antiques from that time period.” She removed cups and saucers from the cupboard, her enthusiasm taking over. “It has two bedrooms and baths on this level, along with a powder room. One of the baths would be perfect for a claw-foot tub and one of those elegant pedestal sinks. Then there’s the upstairs. It’s unfinished right now and I’m not sure whether I want to put in a master suite up there or an office.”
“A master suite would add more to the resell value. You can always turn one of the downstairs bedrooms into a home office.”
She poured the coffee and turned to hand him a cup. He was so close she almost dumped it on him. “Sorry,” she murmured, taking a swift step backward that jammed her up against the counter. For some reason she had difficulty meeting his gaze. “There are times I think this place is built more like a dollhouse than a house meant for adults.”
“You’re nervous. That’s a first for you.” He tilted his head to one side, his eyes as black as the bowels of hell. “Why is that, Angie?”
She made a helpless shrug. “You’re my boss. And we’re in my home.”
“And we’re blurring the lines?”
“Something like that,” she admitted. Honesty forced her to confess, “Okay, totally that.”
“Normally, we aren’t the sort of people who blur lines.”
“No.”
But she wished she were. If she weren’t afraid it would mean losing her job, she’d accept the offer she could read in his gaze. Part of her urged her to do just that. After all, what did it matter? He’d made it clear he intended to marry. If he did, she’d quit. Why not take a chance before that happened? Why not show him that she was so much more than a piece of office furniture. That she was a woman with a woman’s emotions. All it would take was a kiss. A single kiss.
As soon as the thought came to her, she instantly dismissed it. Just where would that kiss lead? Straight to bed. To bed, where she’d be able to prove to him beyond a shadow of a doubt that while she excelled as his PA, she was a total disaster as the sort of woman who usually graced his bed. The stunning Lisa had managed to keep two brilliant and powerful men hooked. Angie closed her eyes. She hadn’t even been able to hook one.
“Lucius—”
He lifted a hand, cut her off. “Tonight was a disaster. You realize that, don’t you?”
Her brows pulled together in consternation. “You said it wasn’t my fault.”
“I lied. It was your fault.”
“Wait a minute. Wait just one damn minute.” She set her cup and saucer on the counter, the porcelain singing in protest. “You told me to flirt with him.”
“I told you to distract him. You didn’t distract him.” It only took a single step in her direction to have him invading her personal space. “You distracted me. And he bloody well knew it. Knew it and took advantage of that fact.”
“And you blame me for that?” she demanded indignantly.
“I blame it on that damn dress.” Burning flames of desire flared to life in his gaze, sweeping like wildfire across her skin, scorching in its intensity. All she could do was stare in return, bathing in the irresistible flames. “Maybe it would help if you took it off …”
Three
Lucius heard the swift, panicked catch of Angie’s breath. God help him. Even that was sexy as hell. Why had he never noticed? How could he have been so blind?
“Have you lost your mind?” she demanded.
“Probably,” he admitted. Definitely.
“You can’t seriously expect me to strip down—”
“Expect? No. Hope?” He invaded the final few inches between them and caught the flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat, heard the swift give-and-take of her breath. “Oh, yeah.”
“I work for you. And this doesn’t just blur the lines. It steps way over them.”
He reached for her, hooked one of the curls that had taunted him all evening and allowed it to twine around his finger. It clung to him, silken soft and utterly female. He’d watched Moretti do just that and it had taken every ounce of his self-possession not to deck the bastard. Lucius shook his head in an attempt to clear it. He didn’t understand what was happening to him, couldn’t make any sense out of the strength of his reaction. Angie had worked for him over the past eighteen months and not once in all that time had he ever felt the urge to connect with her on a personal level. To take her into his arms and discover whether that sexy, impudent mouth tasted as good as it looked.
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