Her Little White Lie

She groaned and sank onto the couch, baby Ana still resting against her chest. “This is bizarre.”

“You’re the one who said we were engaged.”

“Yes. I know. And I knew the minute I said it I was in over my head but it just … popped out.”

For some reason, he didn’t doubt her. Probably because he was the least logical option to choose. If she’d been thinking, she would have chosen a different man. One who liked children and puppies and had some semblance of compassion.

He was not that man, and he knew it as well as everyone around him.

“I can’t lose her,” she said, her focus on the baby in her arms. “I can’t let one stupid mistake ruin her life. And mine.”

He looked at Paige, at the baby nestled against her, ignoring the piece of his brain that demanded he look away from the scene of maternal love. Ana took a deep breath, almost a sigh, that lifted her tiny shoulders and shook her whole little frame. She was content, at rest, against the woman she knew as her mother.

Unexpectedly, genuine concern wrenched his gut. It was foreign. Emotion, in general, was foreign to him. But this kind even more so.

“I understand,” he said. And he found that he did. “But that means this can’t just look real, it has to be real.”

It occurred to him, just as he spoke the words. The engagement wouldn’t be enough. It would have to be more. It would have to be marriage.

“You want to keep Ana.”

“More than anything,” she said.

“Then we have to be sure that the adoption is final before we go our separate ways. We need to get married, not just get engaged.”

She blinked twice. “Like … really get married?”

“I think a government office would be especially concerned with the legality of our union so we can’t very well jump over a broom on the beach.”

“But … but a real marriage?”

“Of course.”

Her blue eyes widened. “What do you mean by that?”

He almost laughed at the abject horror evident in her expression. Most women didn’t look horrified if it was implied they might sleep together; on the contrary, he was used to women being eager to accept the invitation or eager to seek him out.

Though he turned his share down. Far too many were out to reform the bad boy. To make the man with the heart of stone care, to reach him, save him, perhaps. Something that simply wasn’t possible.

He wasn’t a sadist and he had no interest in hurting people. He could easily take advantage of wide-eyed innocents with a desire to reform him. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t.

Still, he found Paige’s clear aversion to it interesting.

“I don’t mean in that way,” he said.

Her blue eyes widened further. “What way?” As if she had to prove her thoughts hadn’t even gotten near the bedroom door. She was a very cute, unconvincing liar.

“I don’t intend to sleep with you.” Even as he said it, he wondered if the underwear she had on beneath her clothes was a bright as the rest of her. Bright pink, showing hints of pale skin beneath delicate lace? He could imagine laying her down on white sheets, the filmy garments electric against the pristine backdrop.

Color flooded her cheeks and she looked down at the top of Ana’s head. “I … of course not. I mean … I never thought you did.”

He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be toying with fantasies of it, either. He had to stay focused. He tightened down on the vein that seemed to bleed a never-ending flow of erotic, Paige-themed imagery through his brain.

“The look on your face said otherwise.”

“It was just an honest question. And anyway, you’re taking this a step deeper, and I’m entitled to ask some questions, and I just need to know what ‘real’ would mean to you. Other than the license, I guess.”

“What I mean by it being real, has to do with our activities outside the bedroom. You will need to accompany me to any events I might need to attend. We will have to get married, and you will have to move into my home. It has to look real.”

Dante didn’t like the idea of it. Not in the least. Of bringing this little rainbow whirlwind into his personal space. And not just Paige, but the baby, as well.

He gritted his teeth. His house was big. It would be fine. And it would be temporary. He didn’t question the decisions he made. He simply made them.

She nodded slowly. “I know. But I mean … it seems crazy and extreme.”

“It’s hardly extreme. Understand this, Paige, you’ve gotten us both into a bit of a dangerous game. There could be very real consequences if we’re caught in the lie. Very real for you, especially.”

She looked away, pulling her lush bottom lip between her teeth. “You’re right.”

He pulled his focus away from her mouth. “Of course I am. Do you have anything to drink?”

“Uh … there’s a box of wine in the fridge.”

Dante didn’t bother to keep the disapproval from showing on his face. “A box?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Sorry if that doesn’t meet with your standards. Maybe you can choose me some wine and a ring?”

“I’m not opposed to it. However, when you move into my home, there will be a wine selection waiting for you. And none of it will be boxed.”

“Well, la-dee-da,” she said, standing. “I’m going to put Ana in her crib. Do you think you can stand here for a minute and keep the internal judgment to a minimum?”

“I’ll do my best,” he said drily.

He watched her walk out of the room, his eyes drawn to the sway of her hips and the rounded curve of her butt. He was only human, and she was beautiful. Not his type in the least, and yet, it wasn’t the first time he’d noticed her.

He liked women who were cool. Contained. In both looks and manner. And Paige was none of those things, which made her both a fascination and impossible to ignore.

Paige returned a moment later, hands free, a wet spot on her shirt near her shoulder. “You have something on your shirt,” he said.

She looked down. “Oh. Yeah. She’s really drooly right now. No teeth to hold it back.”

He let out a long breath and sat down on the couch. “I think I will take some wine.”

The idea of having this woman and her explosion of belongings and a baby who was, by Paige’s description, drooly, in his home was enough to send a kick of anxiety through him.

Paige shrugged and headed to the kitchen, reaching up into a high cabinet and taking down two mismatched pieces of stemware. A green champagne flute and a clear wine goblet. Then she opened up the fridge and bent down, dispensing wine from the plastic tap that was jammed into the cardboard box, into the cups.

She kicked her shoes off and pushed them to the side as she walked to the couch, wineglasses in her hands. “I haven’t had anyone over in a long time. You know, other than the social worker.” She handed him the clear glass and moved to a chair that was positioned next to the couch. She sat down on her knees, her feet tucked up under her.