Within minutes, the team was throwing ideas back and forth. Lucy shook out the cramp forming in her hand from keeping up. This was good. Exactly what they needed in the newsroom.
“When William goes undercover, he’ll need a wife.” Bridgett was all business.
“Who wants to be William’s wife?” Lucy asked offhand.
William mouthed, “Stop it” at her.
“It can’t be a reporter anyone will recognize,” Bridgett pointed out. “Someone behind the scenes makes the most sense.”
“Lucy,” William interjected. “You’re behind the scenes. Looks like you’re the one.”
Nope. That was abadidea.
No. No way Lucy would spend days and nights alone with the man she was avoiding—the man always in search of his next conquest.
“Actually”—Lucy capped her marker—“I think you should take Bridgett. I don’t mind covering her shifts.”
The lines around William’s mouth hardened. The look shouldn’t have been sexy, but it was.
Bridgett grinned. “This is so fun. I’ll get a dress and a ring—just like the real thing without all the messy paperwork when it’s over.”
By the time the meeting finished, everyone had solid assignments. Lucy rubbed her wrist and organized the markers she had used to color code the board. She turned to leave. William had stayed behind and was leaning against the closed door.
“Don’t do that again.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Excuse me?”
“I pick my own wives.”
The way he made that declaration made her heart thump quick in her chest.Pick me. Pick me.
She mentally instructed her heart to shut up.
“Ah.” She moved to put the table between them. “Thought I was helping.”
“I don’t need your help. Especially if it involves sending me away for a honeymoon with someone else.” His sarcasm hung heavy between them.
“I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time.” She looked down to her notepad and collected her things.
“Lucy.”
She glanced up.
The space between them practically disintegrated with the way he held her stare. She couldn’t look away. Could hardly catch her breath.
“We’re not done.” He turned on his heel and disappeared down the hallway.
His words hung in the air like a promise.
…
Lucy’s phone rang at six o’clock the next Saturday. It wasn’t her morning to be at the station, and absolutely everything else could wait until she woke up. She reached over to her rickety nightstand and clicked off the ringer.
At six thirty, she couldn’t ignore the pounding at her front door. It continued as she threw her feet over the side of the bed and made her way through the cramped living room. She tossed back the orange curtain on her front door. William stood there on the porch, his gaze directed down. His right hand lay relaxed on the top of the doorjamb, and the tight tee he wore showed the ripples of muscle on his biceps.
“Mrrrrrrrrrow.” Mitzy sauntered into the room.
“No. Kidding,” Lucy replied, under her breath.
