Having His Child. Amy Fetzer J.

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?”

      His gentle tone sapped her strength even as it wore her down. “Nothing. I am tired. And yes, I’ve slept. Now will you just lay off?”

      He simply stared.

      She groaned. “I’m sorry.” She patted his hand, wishing she could tell him how she was feeling, but she didn’t even know. She felt confused, and talking things over with Lucas had always helped in the past. But this—well, this wasn’t something she could share just yet. And she didn’t know when she could. She was deceiving her best friend. She smothered a moan. Now she felt worse, especially when he was looking at her all concerned.

      Luc tried not to frown, but she was hiding something. They didn’t have many secrets, and he didn’t like that she was shutting him out. It stung. But he knew better than to push her. When she was ready, she’d tell him. She always did. Resolutely, he picked up his plate again, toed off his shoes, sank into the sofa and restarted the video. They ate in silence, and as the movie played, the tension eased. They laughed, picked the scenes apart, made snide comments about the cheesy dialogue, then when that was over, they cleaned up their dinner mess before popping in another movie.

      Sitting beside Angela on the couch, Lucas was watching Arnold Schwarzenegger demolish another town to get the bad guy when he realized Angela was leaning her head on his shoulder. He looked down and smiled. She was sound asleep, and he shifted her closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She snuggled against him, her body heat seeping into him. He sighed with the simple pleasure of it and kept watching the movie. Yet long after it was over and the room was dark, Lucas held her, wondering why he felt complete peace and contentment. And just how he was going to deal with it.

      Her bracelet was missing. The one Lucas had given her. Angela was frantic, tearing apart her house. She’d gone so far as to go back to the studio and search till she remembered having it on when she left the radio station. Now hard fear swept her as she jammed her hand beneath the cushions of the sofa, then tore them off, digging. Nothing. Nothing! Oh, Lord, she should never have accepted it, she thought. This was just like her to lose something so precious to her. Tears burned her eyes, and the worst part was that she’d agreed to go to a Candler Hospital fund-raiser tonight, a yearly duty with her job, yet this time, her escort was Lucas. And he would be here any minute.

      She stood and went into the kitchen, looking around. Suddenly she stuffed her hand down the sink drain, feeling, hoping and finding nothing. With a moan of despair, she opened the cabinet under the sink and stared for a second, then went to the closet for her tools. In moments she’d laid a towel down to protect her dress, shut off the water line and was under the sink, opening the elbow joint.

      She was struggling with the metal pipe collar when she heard, “Good Lord, Angela. Now I’ve seen everything.”

      She flinched, and sorrow engulfed her. Lucas. She thought about pretending nothing was wrong, but in her current state, there was no way around it.

      Lucas bent and peered under the sink. “A fine time to do house repairs.” Especially in a red cocktail dress, he thought, letting his gaze slide over her shapely legs. Fleetingly he wondered if those stockings were the kind with the lace tops like she’d worn for Randy. He shook his head. “Angela, this is silly.”

      She sniffled, keeping her face averted. “Come back in an hour.”

      “I can’t. We’re supposed to be there in thirty minutes. I’m on the board. I need to be there for the presentation.”

      “Yes,” she muttered. “I know.” Oh, she didn’t want to tell him she’d lost the bracelet already.

      Lucas reached for her. “Would you come out from under there, for the love of Mike?”

      Sighing heavily, Angela laid the monkey wrench aside and shifted out from under the sink. Lucas grasped both of her hands and pulled her to her feet. Instantly she let go and stepped back. She couldn’t look at him and busied herself with smoothing her dress.

      “Well, you look ready to go,” he said skeptically.

      “I am. I just need a minute to freshen up.”

      His gaze shifted to the mess under the sink. “And you needed to repair the sink before leaving?”