More Than Perfect

“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?”