Page 26 of Baby Perfection

“Because you still loved her?”

Unable to help himself, he escaped the bed and put some distance between them. For some reason the question disturbed him, ripped a scab off a wound only half-healed. And then it hit him and he closed his eyes.

“Lucius?” His name contained a hint of uncertainty. “What is it?”

He turned around. Faced her. Found it the height of irony that he stood before her, stripped naked in every sense of the word. “I didn’t love Lisa. I loved Geoff. He was my brother in all but blood. He’s the reason I’d never have taken her down. Out of respect for him, for what he hoped to build with her.” He shook his head, gutted. “It doesn’t make any difference, anyway. They’re all gone now. My dad. Geoff. Lisa.”

“Everyone you loved.” He closed his eyes to hold at bay the compassion he read in her voice and expression, rejecting it. “There’s still one more person, Lucius. There’s Mikey.” Urgency raced through her words, hammered at him. “He needs you. He needs your love.”

And perhaps that bothered him most of all. “I’m not sure I’m capable of love anymore.” He didn’t give her time to debate the issue. He checked the clock by his bedside table. “It’s getting late. I don’t know about you, but I’m starved. I’m going to call for a meal to be brought up. Your choice whether they serve it while you’re still naked.”

The comment accomplished just what he hoped. It served to catapult Angie out of bed. She hastened around the room, gathering up her clothing. Watching, he had the almost-overpowering urge to snatch all that gorgeous nudity back into his arms and return her to his bed. To make love to her all over again, long into the night, until he’d found a way to sate the desire that continued to infect him, that simmered through his veins and pooled in his loins and demanded he take. Possess. Stamp repeatedly with his possession.

“Do you mind if I grab a quick shower?” she asked, clutching her bundle of clothing to her chest.

He fought to make sense of her words. But all he could see were those legs. That pearly skin. The tumble of soft curls that haloed her lovely face. Those huge, haunting aquamarine eyes. Silently swearing, Lucius forced his brain into gear, dissected her words one by one and shoved out a response.

“Go ahead.”

She turned, presenting him with that perfect, round backside. If she hadn’t been moving at such a swift clip, he would have lunged for her. Yanked her back into his arms and his bed and taken her in a helpless frenzy of need.

Mikey. Remember Mikey. The boy had to come first and foremost. He was the only reason Lucius had taken Angie to his bed. Was considering marrying her and making her an intimate part of his life. He must never forget that. Geoff’s son came first. The side benefits of marrying Angie were just that. Side benefits. A tasty appetizer to enjoy, but not the main meal. He couldn’t allow himself to become distracted by a pert bottom, stunning legs, an elegant face or wary, vulnerable eyes. Eyes that made him want to wrap her up in an endless embrace and protect her against…

Against what?

Himself, he realized. Against using her. Hurting her. Causing her the sort of pain Britt and Ryan had. The sort of pain Lynley had caused his father. The sort of pain, ultimately, Lisa would have caused Geoff simply because it wasn’t in her nature to remain faithful to any one person. He needed to remain dispassionate and focused on Mikey, to the exclusion of everything—and everyone—else.

And yet, still he wanted. Yearned. Fought to control what shouldn’t matter…but did.

Blistering the air with his frustration, Lucius swiftly dressed, then placed their dinner order. He made a beeline for the living room, aware if he didn’t get the hell out of the bedroom—and now—neither of them would leave anytime soon. How was it possible that something so simple had taken such an unfortunate turn?

When he’d first considered using the Pretorius Program to help him find a wife, he’d been determined that his marriage would be one of pure convenience for both parties. That any sexual involvement would remain physical, uncomplicated by any sort of emotional connection—exactly what Angie wanted, which should have made it perfect for them both. In fact, that particular requirement had been one of the most difficult to fulfill, according to the program’s designer. For some reason, women entering the marital estate wanted love, something he couldn’t and wouldn’t offer.

Even when Angie’s name had been raised, he’d experienced a swift wash of relief. He’d marry someone he respected, with whom he had a comfortable relationship. A woman he trusted. Someone he wanted sexually and who, based on her response to their kiss after the business dinner with Moretti, wanted Lucius,but without the added obstacle of messy emotional demands, a prerequisite that worked well for them both.

But something had happened when he took Angie to bed. Something he didn’t want to examine too closely. Something he didn’t dare analyze. Ever. All he knew was that he’d never experienced such perfection with any other woman. Lisa, with whom he’d enjoyed a very passionate, energetic sex life, paled in comparison. And he knew why.

Once he broke through her restraint and Angie gave herself to him, she gave everything, unstintingly, just as he’d demanded. She held nothing back. Every part of her was open to him, gifted to him with a generosity that unmanned him.

Damn it! Hadn’t he just promised himself he wouldn’t analyze what made Angie different from the other women he’d known?

She appeared in the doorway between his bedroom and the living room just then and he fought not to laugh at the irony. Angelique, the tempting sex goddess he’d been so busily fantasizing about had been replaced by Ms. Angie Colter, PA Extraordinaire, fully zipped, buttoned and uncreased, from the painfully tight knot of hair at her nape to the sensible heels concealing her pretty painted toes. Despite that, he caught the merest hint of nervousness eroding the edges of her composure.

“Dinner’s not here yet?” she asked.

“Not yet.” He lifted an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

But she wasn’t. Not totally. “Except for…?”

Before she could respond, a panel by the elevator buzzed. “I assume that’s our dinner,” she prompted, her relief almost palpable.

Lucius nodded in confirmation. Fine. He’d save the postcoital interrogation until after dinner. He crossed to the panel in the foyer and punched in a code. A few minutes later the doors opened and a young man in his late teens stepped from the car bearing a cardboard box, a cocky grin and a long golden braid that flowed all the way to his waist. It twitched rhythmically to the music pouring from the earbuds dangling from his ears.

“Thanks for being so prompt, Tuck,” Lucius said.

“Anything for you, Mr. D. You want it in the dining room, as usual?”

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