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Kat crossed her heart. “Nothing shy of torture would get it out of me.”
Angela smiled. “My decision would not go over well with him. At all. He was abandoned, forced to live on the streets till the county picked him up and threw him in Anchorage House.” The day she’d first seen him came back with the same hard blow to her middle. The epitome of teenage tall, dark and mean as hell, she thought, wearing worn jeans and a tight T-shirt. His shoes were nearly soleless, and he was angry, so angry at the world. “He gets a little nuts when it comes to children. He doesn’t want a single one to have to live like he did.” Her smile was tender. “I guess that’s why he became a doctor. And if he sees one who’s been abused—” She shook her head. “He doesn’t even want any of his own, Kat. What does that tell you?”
“He’s scared he’ll do the same thing his parents did.” Kat filled it in.
“He wouldn’t, I know him. I know him better than he knows himself.” She sighed. “But there is no convincing him, either, and that has nothing to do with my decision. Luc has his life and I have mine. And while I don’t want him to be angry with me, this is something I want very badly. It’s my life, my choice. I’ve never been that career-minded or I would have used my psychology degree for something more than a love-advice radio show on a country and western station.” She paused to sip her coffee. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my work, and the celebrity status has its perks, but I would give it all up to fall in love with the right man and have babies.” When Katherine simply stared, she added, “Is that so antiquated that I’ve left you speechless?”
Katherine blinked and swallowed. “I know what you mean,” she said hoarsely.
Angela leaned over her coffee cup, meeting Kat’s gaze. “I want to be a mom. I want a child. I would rather have a husband who thinks I am the shiznit of all women and a marriage license to prove it, but that’s not a requirement. I am going to have my own family.”
“I guess coming from such a great pair like your parents, it’s only natural.”
She shrugged. “That might have something to do with it. Lord knows I love my brothers and sisters and their kids, but it’s not enough. I’m ready to love, Kat. I’m ready.”
“Ready for what?”
Both women looked up to find Lucas standing at the kitchen door.
Angela paled. “Ready for a vacation,” she lied, smiling and wondering how much he’d heard.
“Well, include me, Ange.” He stepped inside, brushing a kiss to Angela’s cheek, then winking at Katherine. “Hey, Kat. You look great.”
“Thank you, sugah, nice to hear it from such a handsome devil,” Katherine said, bringing her empty cup to the sink.
Angela craned her neck to look up at him, recognizing the tension in his features. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Nah. It’d just tick me off.” He sniffed the air with great exaggeration. “What’s cooking?”
She stood. “Ahh, so that’s why you stopped by. Begging for a meal, huh?”
He met her gaze. “I was hoping you’d take pity on me.”
“I feel so used.”
“You are about the best cook I know.”
She went to the stove, then glanced back. “Other than me and my mom, how many women have cooked for you?”
He thought about that. “None, actually.”
“Then I guess you’re stuck with my Dad’s daffodil chili, Ryder.” She stirred the chili, turning down the fire.
“I hope you brought some antacids,” Kat said.
“I know this doctor who’ll give me some.” He crossed to the stove, staring into the pot. “Feed me, woman, please.”
She elbowed him aside. “Watch it, buster.”
She said it with a smile so Lucas knew she wasn’t going to deck him. Not that she could. She was just a little thing, he thought, watching her move around the kitchen. He helped her set the table while Katherine put bread in the oven to toast, but the kitchen was too small for three adults to be moving around so much. Angela handed them both a soda and ordered them out onto the back deck.
Standing on the deck outside the kitchen, Lucas leaned his rear against the rail and looked at Katherine Davenport. He met her in college and knew her almost as long as he’d known Angela. Though she was only a couple years older than Angela, their sorority mother hen, he used to call her, she was every man’s idea of southern grace: beautiful, poised, her long red hair swept in a twist, her clothes teal-colored and tailored to perfection. There wasn’t an inch of her that wouldn’t drive a man crazy with want nor be put off a little by her austere polish. Luc would bet his salary that she knew exactly which fork to use at a banquet, but then, he’d also seen her skin a rabbit faster than Angela’s dad.
A widow now, Katherine owned Wife Incorporated, a company of temporary wives-for-hire out of Savannah. Her employees were nannies, housekeepers, help for a widower, wedding consultants, even kid wranglers for busy moms. They were skilled in all those talents that usually came with a marriage license. And the business was a huge success. As he and Kat chatted a bit, a kernel of an idea pushed into his mind. Yet his attention drifted to Angela again and again. He stared at her through the glass doors as she put toasted bread on the table. She looked so cute in cutoffs and a T-shirt, a far cry from the sexy woman in black the other night. The reminder sent a charge of heat through his body, and he knew he needed to pull back from her until he could control his feelings. Until he understood what was going on inside him where she was concerned. Especially when he’d spent that night thinking about Randy Costa’s hands on her, his mouth on hers and around midnight recognized he was actually jealous. It was a dangerous emotion for him to deal with when he’d had command of it since he was a kid. Still, he wondered why he was so hot for her now when he’d been around her most of his life. And he knew it went deeper than just sexual attraction, and he tried to understand, was desperate to understand, why his feelings for her had suddenly changed from best friends to even thinking about something more.
His gaze swept over Angela as she filled water glasses. He’d thought long and hard about what she’d said the other night, about him dating women that would guarantee a breakup. He admitted that Diane had been less than supportive and couldn’t see that his career meant everything to him. It was everything to him. He was sick of getting his heart broken because they didn’t understand and decided to step back for a while, see what it was inside him that always chose the wrong woman. To see if maybe Angela had been right.
As if she knew she was on his mind she looked up and smiled. Something hit him hard, dead center in his chest. He smiled back, and knew more than anything that he needed to step back from Angela. He had to quit popping by, bumming meals and griping over his breakups to her.
“Give me one of your business cards, Kat,” he said, abruptly looking away. He accepted the embossed card, stuffing it in his shirt pocket as he took a sip of soda. He didn’t respond to Kat’s quizzical expression. A wife for hire would have all the benefits of a wife—well, except for one—with none of the heartache, none of the feelings of being trapped. And it would separate him from Angela before he did something really stupid and destroyed the only relationship that had kept him sane for the past fifteen years.
It was bad enough that she’d turned thirty with all the hoopla of a Christmas parade, thanks to Lucas and her family. Now life was being downright mean. “Is this a cruel joke, Kat?” Angela said into her cell phone as she stood inside Luc’s kitchen.
“You know me better than that, darlin’. He asked for help a few days ago and you wanted something close by.”
“Close by, not close to home!”
“There were no other jobs suited to the time frame you needed,” Katherine said calmly. “This is perfect. Who else knows him better? You can do this without him ever knowing it’s you.”
Katherine always was the eternal optimist, she thought. “I know, but—” How was she going to explain that being a wife for hire for Lucas was not what she had in mind? But she needed extra money for the procedures.
“I can get you something else, Angela, but in your area, it might take a while.”
Angela sighed, glancing around. “At least he’s not a major slob,” she muttered into the phone. “And I know where everything is.”
“Good, then it will be great pay for little work.”
Angela agreed and said goodbye, then put her cell phone away. She needed the money and didn’t care where it came from right now.
She hunted through the lower cabinets for cleaning supplies and his pitifully stocked fridge and freezer for something to cook for supper. Oh, Lord, she thought. No wonder he stopped by her place so often. Poor darling, he didn’t even know how to shop for groceries. And at his age! Angela set the frozen meat on the counter, then got to work cleaning his house. She’d been here often enough that it didn’t feel strange working here, but tackling the dust bunnies was a job in itself. Later, in the early afternoon, she was dead tired, but satisfied. Chicken and dumplings simmered in a Crock-Pot she’d bet he didn’t know he had, since it was still in the box, and she couldn’t help but make the house look a little special. This was Lucas’s place, after all, and she loved her best friend. He deserved something special.
A few hours later, Lucas stepped into his house and drew a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of something wonderful. Food. Cooked food, he thought with a smile. Leaving his briefcase at the door, he quickly investigated the house, instantly noticing how the wood banister shone, the floors gleamed. The house smelled of lemons and simmering chicken, and he was so eager to taste the supper that he burned his tongue. There was wine chilling, and his “wife” had stocked the fridge with food. He could get used to this, real easy. All the perks and none of the obligations. Or the hassles.
Loosening his tie, he walked into his bedroom, feeling a little invaded when he noticed his laundry neatly folded in the drawers, his shirts pressed and hung in the closet. But it was such a relief not to have to hunt one down, or remember to pick them up from the cleaners, that he didn’t care. It was like living in a hotel, his shaving gear neatly laid out and his bed turned down. He was certain this wasn’t the norm for a housekeeper, but then what did he know.
Boy, he owed Katherine big-time.
Returning to the kitchen, he served up his dinner, flipped on the TV, kicked off his shoes, then sank into his sofa to eat. He was in bachelor heaven, he thought. But halfway through his dinner, Lucas stopped and looked around the living room. He felt suddenly terribly alone, and on instinct, he reached for the phone. He stilled, drawing his hand back. He wanted to talk to Angela, but she was likely sleeping since she DJ’d on the radio from midnight till five in the morning. Besides, the whole idea behind hiring a wife for hire was to give him some distance before he ruined everything.
But he couldn’t stop thinking about her, about how sexy and fresh she looked the other day when Katherine was over and last week when she was dressed to the nines for Randy. He frowned, wondering if she was still seeing Costa, and at the thought of her being with the man, something squeezed down on his chest, leaving him feeling chilled and angry. He set the plate on the table. Get a handle on this, he told himself. He’d known Angela most of his life. Okay, so he’d been away doing his internship and residency in California, but they’d kept in touch, visited each other often during the holidays. Yet for the past two years, since he’d been back home, Lucas knew he’d felt different. The other night, watching her getting ready for her date, was the first time he’d been really aware of the difference. And really aware of Angela as more than his friend. He hadn’t seen his buddy then, he’d seen only the woman.
Great. He’d tried to avoid this since high school, always tamping down his libido, satisfied with flirting and honored to just be with her. Her face loomed in his mind, her smile, the lush curve of her mouth, and he wondered what it would feel like to have an all-out hot-and-bothered kiss from her. To feel her body locked around his and taste her skin. Lucas leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and cradling his face in his hands. This was not good. He could not risk his relationship with her. Because Lucas knew if he blew it and made a pass at her, and she turned him down, he would lose more than his closest friend. He would lose the only family he’d ever had.
Then he’d be as alone as he was the day his mother dropped him off at school and never came back.
“Thank you for calling in.”
“No, thank you,” the woman said on the other end of the phone line, then hung up.
Angela smiled, thinking that she at least helped somebody’s love life tonight as she leaned toward the microphone.
“You’re listening to KROC radio and this is AJ at Midnight, keeping you company till the sun shines on the low country.” She turned the dial and the country music went over the air and the light went off on her console. She sank into her chair, closing her eyes. Just for a second, she reminded herself. One minute was all she needed. Lord, she didn’t think she’d ever been this tired and she didn’t know how much longer she could do two jobs and keep up. Late nights on the radio she could handle. It was rushing to Lucas’s place to make like a temporary wife, so she could be a mother, that she couldn’t. It was almost ironic if she thought on the matter long enough. But it wasn’t the work, it was the hours. She was awake nearly twenty hours in a day. But she needed the money. And she needed some extra sleep.
Her body clock wouldn’t let her, it was so twisted.
She’d turned down two dinner dates this week, knowing she wouldn’t make it past the entrée. Falling in her dinner would make a real good impression, she thought, not that she was really that interested. The entire time she was with some new man, she silently compared him to Lucas. It was irritating, and she considered why she found her latest dates lacking. Was it because she didn’t trust her dates and the only man beyond her father she did trust was Lucas? Or was it simply that she didn’t have to get to know him, and the whole process of showing your best side, then finding out the things that drive women crazy later felt like more of a chore than an exciting pleasure? Or did it all lie in her heart? The unexpected spin of unfamiliar thoughts and feelings, each leading to Lucas, made her brows tighten. And her heartbeat race. A second later a light tap on the glass made her flinch. She jerked upright and glared at her too-young producer. David stood in his cubicle directly across from her, frowning, and then switched on the intercom while country music played over the airwaves.
“Wake up, Angela. You’re back in two minutes.”
She yawned, nodding.
“What’s with you? You look like hell.”
“Gee, I can always count on you for compliments, huh, Dave?”
He blushed. “I meant—”
She waved him off. “I know what you meant. And I do look in the mirror on occasion, you know.” Angela poured more coffee into her mug, sipped, then leaned back in the chair as the song faded. She spoke into the mike, her voice soft, her drawl deep and soothing for the people listening at this hour. They should all be asleep, for pity’s sake.
When her shift was over, she left the studio, drove very carefully home and decided a shower would work miracles. She had to get Luc’s place done before he came home. Since she’d been doing it for the past two weeks, it was clean, and there was little to do but maintain. An early night, she thought, and she would leave a message that she wouldn’t be working tomorrow. It was Chinese take-out and video night with Lucas. One of the few times she got to see him. And she needed some rest.
A couple hours later, she finished her job and was scribbling a note, attempting to disguise her handwriting, when she heard his car pull into the driveway. She looked up, and panic seized her when she realized she was close to being discovered. She swept the first drafts of the notes into her pocket, gathered her things and ran to the back door. She heard his key in the lock just as she was closing the rear door. She didn’t take a breath till she was driving on the next road over.
Lucas walked into the kitchen, frowning when he caught the scent of perfume. The fragrance was vaguely familiar, and he called out, but didn’t get an answer. This was driving him nuts. Plain crazy, he thought. Curiosity was a deadly thing for a man alone, and his was hammering at him constantly. Who was she? Who was this woman who cooked his favorite meals and knew which wine he liked best? He glanced at the table elegantly set for one. It seemed ridiculous to bother just for him. But this woman did. She left little touches of herself all over the house; hand towels and napkins folded like swans, his mail neatly stacked on his desk, potpourri bowls discreetly hidden yet giving off their cinnamon scent. Even his cereal boxes were stored according to height. That made him smile.
He didn’t think anyone in the world did that except him and Angela.
He saw the note and read it, frowning. Ah, fend for yourself tomorrow, he thought. It was just as well. He was having dinner with Angela. Their Chinese take-out and movie night seemed to be the only time he got to see her, talk with her. Yet as he served up the meal his wife for hire had left warming in the Crock-Pot, Lucas wondered if it was wise to be alone with Angela.
In the dark.
On a sofa.
But he couldn’t let her know that his friendship and mild attraction for her had developed into something far more dangerous.
Three
“Hey,” Lucas said, stepping inside Angela’s house the next night without knocking.
She smiled instantly, leaving the couch and coming to him. “Hey, stranger.” She brushed a kiss to his cheek, taking the bags of Chinese food from him. “You’re late.”
He followed her into the living room. “I had an emergency at the hospital.”
She glanced at him, concerned. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. I think I worked on the future president of the United States. I swear this little ten-year-old boy was smart as a whip. It was like talking to an adult.”
She smiled, dropping onto the couch. That was one thing she loved about Lucas. He adored children. Too bad he didn’t want to be a father. She froze, frowning. Oh, don’t even open that door, she warned herself and laid out the containers.
“He could have diagnosed himself, huh?”
He sat beside her, reaching for the Chinese take-out. Steam poured from the paper containers. “Yes, but setting the broken leg would have been a tough one.” Luke filled their plates, pausing to bite into an egg roll. He glanced at her as she helped close the containers, and his gaze fell on the bracelet he’d given her for her birthday. The string of diamonds sparkled against her tanned skin, and he remembered her protests that it was too extravagant. But as far as he was concerned, nothing was good enough for her. And it gave him incredible pleasure to see her wearing it. She hadn’t taken it off since he’d put it on her.
“So what’s your fancy tonight,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. “Shoot ’em ups? Romance? Comedy?” She gestured to the stack of videos on the coffee table.
He examined the titles, then popped one into the VCR. “Be surprised,” he said when he wouldn’t let her see which one.
“You look too happy, Luc. What’s going on?”
“I hired Wife Incorporated.”
“Really?” she said, focusing on her plate. “And?”
“It’s great. I get all the benefits and none of the hassles.”
“Well, see, I told you. Any man who thinks marriage is a hassle doesn’t really want to get married.”
He looked at her, his gaze moving over her face with concern.
“Speak,” she said. “I can see it in your eyes. Something’s bugging you.”
Plate in hand, he sighed and sat back. “I have to tell you…as a listener, you sounded awful last night. Your voice is hoarse, and you kept stumbling over those advertisement intros.”
Her dander went up. She was tired because she was cleaning and cooking for him, and she wanted to tell him to quit making so much work for her!
“Some of us have lousy days, Luc.”
“Not you. At least not on the air.”
She scoffed. “Yeah, right. Dear Angela, solve my problems on the air for two minutes without knowing the whole story, and then don’t worry.” It wasn’t the first time that she thought she was wasting her psychology degree and should have gone back to a nine-to-five practice.
“Hey, it’s just for fun.”
“People take it seriously,” she said, and hated the sharpness in her voice.
“Yeah, and those same people believe in telephone psychics, too. And as a doctor, I have to say, you look like hell and need rest.”
Why did everyone insist on being so danged honest with her this week? “Back off, Luc.”
He frowned.
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Ange, I was only trying to point out—”
“That I look like death warmed over. Just what a woman needs to hear.” Angrily, she shut off the movie that hadn’t even reached the opening credits.
“Hey, hey,” he soothed, setting his plate down and shifting toward her. “What’s wrong?”
