Having His Child. Amy J. Fetzer
Читать онлайн книгу.
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