by Beth Yarnall
She tried to point at him, but she couldn’t quite focus enough to nail him down with it. “I mean, there’s not like a brunette option or a redhead option or even another blonde-headed-ded-ded option, is there? Cuz, I know you. You’re a man who likes his options. So if we’re gonna get married, I’m gonna have to insist you cut…” she made a slicing motion with her hand and tipped over slightly then recovered, “…all your other options. You get me, cowboy?”
“I get you, darlin’. Yours is the only option for me. But I’m going to want the same assurances from you.”
“Psshh.” She waved him away. “Between my giant ass and Poppy, there aren’t any men who would even give me a second look let alone options.” She rolled her eyes, weaving a little, and then finished off her glass.
He took it from her before she could ask for another.
“I seriously doubt that. But just so we’re clear on all our options, why don’t we write them down.” He wanted her to remember this conversation tomorrow.
“Oh! Like a contract. Good idea. And we should have it notarized so there’s no weaseling out of it.”
He was halfway to grabbing a sheet of paper when her words stopped him. “You want to make our agreement formal?”
“Well, yeah. Sure. Why not? You like binding contracts, don’t you?” She giggled. “I know for sure you like binding.” She waggled her eyebrows at him.
“You want to put binding in our binding contract?”
She slapped her knee, wide-eyed. “We totally should!”
He sat back down next to her with a pad of paper and a pen and started writing. “So binding is option number one. What’s option number two?”
“No, no. Scratch that out. Number one should be the option that says neither one of us doesn’t get any other options. Or we’re the other’s only option. No other optioning. Or something like that. Otherwise I’m not havin’ any kind of options with you.” She shook her finger at him, then held up three fingers. “Two can be binding. Oh! And we should make three or is it four…I can’t remember…but it should definitely be that thing you do with your teeth and your tongue right here.” She made a sweeping gesture that encompassed her whole body.
He started writing, jotting down all of the options she wanted, adding a few of his own with her permission. When they were done, they had a five-page list of some of the most inventive sexual activities ever compiled.
“Okay. Okay,” she said. “I’ve got one more. This is the last one. I promise.”
Somehow when he wasn’t looking she’d gotten ahold of the whiskey bottle and refilled her glass…two…no, maybe three times.
“And what would that be?” He really couldn’t believe it. She’d outdone anything his imagination could come up with by yards. He couldn’t wait to see what she came up with next.
“We need a…” she hiccupped, “…an optional option.”
“An optional option. What exactly is that?”
“It’s an option that says that all of the options are completely optional.” She waved her hands around. “Optionally speaking of course.”
“That goes without saying.”
She snorted. “Right. That’s what I thought. Didn’t turn out that way.” She tapped the page with her finger. “Write it down. I want it in writing this time. Op-tion-al.”
He stared at her for a moment, not quite believing what she’d inadvertently told him. What in the hell had her marriage to that asshole been like? Had he forced her to have sex with him? How bad had things gotten for her?
He cleared his throat, which had become inexplicably clogged. “How about: Everything in this option agreement is absolutely and completely optional, and either party can pull their option at any time during any option?”
“Oohhh. That’s good.”
He wrote it down. “Now what?”
“Now we sign. Wait! No. We need a notoriety to make it all officially official.”
“You mean a notary.”
“Right.” She squinted up at him. “Isn’t that what I said?”
“Close enough. Let me make a phone call.”
Twenty minutes later they had a signed and notarized option agreement thanks to Cal’s business connections. It was going to cost him a couple of hundred dollars extra for the late-night service, but if it made Lucy feel secure in marrying him, then it was money well spent.
He was still trying to wrap his head around what Lucy had let slip. What had she been through in the past seventeen months? Whatever it was had nearly broken her spirit. He was going to have to be extra gentle, extra careful to gain back her trust and make her feel secure again.
He returned from showing the notary out to find Lucy passed out on the couch next to Poppy. He stood in the doorway a moment, watching them, hardly able to believe they were here. His gaze tracked to his ring on Lucy’s finger. Twenty-four hours ago if someone had told him that they’d be engaged, he would’ve laughed in their face. But here she was broken and alone and now his, finally his.
As he bent down and kissed Poppy’s then Lucy’s cheeks, he swore that they would never again want for anything. As long as he was in their lives, they would never be insecure and afraid.
CHAPTER FIVE
Lucy woke up with the worst hangover she’d ever had in her life. Or else she was dead and the pain in her head was punishment for all the bad things she’d done. She risked opening her eyes to a dark room she didn’t recognize.
Where was she? Where was Poppy?
She climbed out of bed faster than she should have, swaying so badly she had to grab the bedpost to keep from falling over. She found the door after three tries—who in the world had two closets in their bedroom?—and stumbled out into the hall. Wait. She knew this house.
Cal’s.
Locating the staircase, she made her way downstairs. Last night came back to her in drips and dribbles with each step. Oh my God. Had they really made a sexual option agreement? And had it notarized? No. That couldn’t be right. What exactly had she agreed to?
Noises from the kitchen drew her that direction. She stopped in the doorway, gaping at the unexpected vision that greeted her. A shirtless Cal had Poppy down to her diaper, tied to a chair with a towel, and he was feeding her applesauce. It had to be the strangest, sexiest, and most confusing sight she’d ever seen.
He’d always had a great body, but now… She resisted the urge to fan herself. Holy cow. He must work out every day to get a body like that. Not an ounce of anything except hard, chiseled muscle on him. Da-yam.
It took her a moment to find her voice. “What are you doing?”
Cal looked up at her and grinned. “Breakfast. How are you feeling?” He spooned some applesauce into Poppy’s mouth, then held out a bowl of Cheerios for Poppy to feed herself.
“You let me drink too much.”
“I cut you off. You snuck more.” He turned, running his gaze over her. “There’s coffee if you can handle it.”
“Ugh. Maybe.” She watched as he wiped Poppy’s face and hands with a washcloth. “How do you know how to do all this baby stuff?”
“Told you. My parents foster children. Even now when I visit, I’m drafted into diaper duty.”
She made her way over to the coffeepot and poured a cup. “Wow. Cal Sellers, the internationally known business mogul, changes diapers and feeds babies. Who would’ve guessed?”
“I’m a man of many talents, aren’t I, Poppy?”
Poppy squealed as he lifted her out of the chair and stood up. Lucy nearly lost her breath. Cal looked so good, so right holding her daughter that she had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from bursting into tears. Kevin had only ever held Poppy if he had to. He’d never fed her or changed a diaper in his life. And here was this man who’d broken her heart—but not nearly as devastatingly as Kevin had—caring for her baby as if she was his own. She’d made many mistakes in her life, but choosing Kevin to help raise her child had to be the biggest, most irreversible mistake she would ever mak
e.
Cal wiggled his nose against Poppy’s, making her giggle. Poppy slapped her chubby hands on Cal’s cheeks, trying to get him do it again. He did, and Poppy put her head back and laughed harder than Lucy had ever seen her laugh. Cal blew a raspberry on her belly, and she laughed harder. Cal’s answering chuckle did funny things to Lucy’s insides. Or else it was the coffee mixed with the leftover whiskey in her belly.
“I can take her now,” she blurted out.
“What? Nah, we’re fine. Go take a shower. I don’t have to leave for another half hour.” He didn’t even look at her. All of his attention was on Poppy.
“About last night…”
Both Cal and Poppy turned to glance at her. “What about it?” he asked.
“I’m not really sure what happened after this.” She held up her hand with the engagement ring.
“Besides you getting drunk?”
“Yeah. Besides that.”
“And passing out.”
“Besides that too. Was there a notary involved?”
“You were rather insistent on that, darlin’. What else could I do but oblige you?”
“Where is it?”
“The option agreement? In the living room.”
Why did he seem so totally unconcerned about it? And what exactly did it say?
She set her coffee down, then picked it back up and took it into the living room with her. She had a feeling she was going to need the fortitude it would provide.
Cal followed with Poppy. Lucy found a small stack of pages with Cal’s neat block lettering on the coffee table where he’d said it would be. She dropped down on the sofa and leafed through it. It was worse than she thought. Swallowing her panic on a bitter sip of black coffee, she turned to Cal, who was trying to pry Poppy’s fingers from his chest hair.
“This, uh, agreement.” She held it up. “What exactly does it mean? I’m not, like, bound to any of it or anything, am I? Cuz I’m not exactly sure how number twenty-three would work.”
He came over, took the papers from her, and flipped through them. “Me either,” he said. “But you insisted I write it down.”
“But it’s not legal, is it?”
“If you’re asking if I’ll force you to do any of the naughty things your dirty mind thought up—read the last option.” He handed her the agreement back.
She found the last page and read it, then let out the breath she’d been holding. “Oh, thank God.”
“We were just joking around.” But he didn’t sound like he thought it was much of a joke.
“A joke. Right.”
“I made a couple of phone calls this morning. The movers are going to pack up your things day after tomorrow and bring them here. Also, I hired you a nanny. Her name’s Sam.”
“I don’t want a nanny. I can take care of Poppy just fine.”
“I know you can, darlin’, but I thought you might need some help while you get things settled. The nanny can be here with you while you do that. That way you can get to know her and hopefully like her.”
“I don’t even get to meet her first? How do you know she’s any good? She could be one of those nannies who beat the children they care for.”
He gave her a get real look. “You really think I wouldn’t hire the absolute best?”
“Maybe your best is different than my best.”
“Let’s go get you dressed, Poppy.” He turned to leave the room.
“Cal.”
He stopped and glanced back at her.
“I can’t leave her with a stranger,” Lucy said. “She’s just a baby.”
“You wouldn’t be, darlin’. Sam’s going to be here to help you, like I said. If you don’t approve of her, we’ll find someone else. But trust me on this, you’re going to approve.” He started out of the room again, then turned back. “By the way, how did you like the room you stayed in last night?”
“What?” Her mind was still stuck on nannies and moving.
“The bedroom. It’s the largest one besides mine. If you don’t like it, you can pick a different one, but that would mean we’d have to move Poppy’s room too.”
“What do you mean Poppy’s room? I didn’t know she had one.”
“The one between yours and mine.” He said it like she should’ve already known.
She rubbed at her pounding forehead. This time yesterday she was nearly homeless and jobless. Twenty-four hours later she was engaged, moving into a mansion, and getting a nanny. Oh, yes. And she’d signed some kind of optional sex contract with her fiancé that may or may not be binding in a court of law.
“Everything’s going to be fine, darlin’. Isn’t it, Poppy?”
She watched as Cal left the room with her daughter as though they started their day like this every day. She must have upset some kind of space-time continuum when she’d walked into Cal’s office yesterday. Nothing since then had been the same. It was all off kilter and out of whack. But other than the ridiculous option agreement, she couldn’t think of one single thing she’d change.
And that worried her most of all.
*****
Three days later, Cal sat in his office overlooking the Dallas skyline, contemplating the changes his life had gone through in the past few days. Lucy and Poppy had moved in. Cal and Lucy’s engagement had been announced and was big society news. He found himself racing Lucy to get to Poppy when she cried first thing in the morning. He usually won.
Lucy approved of Sam the nanny, who turned out to be a manny. Cal had trusted Lucas to find the perfect nanny/bodyguard for Poppy. He’d grilled Lucas about Sam’s qualifications up one side and down the other, but it had never occurred to him to ask if Sam was a man or a woman. He’d assumed. And now there was another man in his house, spending all day alone with Lucy.
Cal hadn’t so much as kissed Lucy since that peck on the cheek when she’d cried as he put his ring on her finger. He began to wonder if they’d ever get past option number one in the option agreement. Not that he was complaining. Much. Whatever Lucy had been through was because of him. He was going to have to tread lightly to re-earn her trust.
At least he’d gotten her to set a date for the wedding—a week from Saturday. There wasn’t much time to plan. All he really needed was Lucy, a license, and a preacher, but he wanted her to have the wedding she’d always wanted. So he’d hired a wedding planner who was showing Lucy table linens and centerpieces at this very moment. He was supposed to meet them later to look at venues.
Right now he was waiting for his good friend Lucas, who he’d asked to check into some things for him concerning Lucy’s ex. Lucas had started his own security company a couple of years ago. He’d met his now-wife Mi when Cal had hired him to be her bodyguard. Lucy and Mi had been hosts of Pleasure at Home and good friends until Lucy quit to marry that asshole. The show had done quite well with Mi as host, but in a few months she’d be going out on maternity leave.
Cal wondered if Lucy had confided in Mi about her ex and how much of that had Mi divulged to Lucas. Lucy had been circumspect at best about her ex and downright evasive at worst.
There was a knock at the door, then Lucas opened it and came in, closing it behind him. “Hey.”
Cal stood and shook hands with his friend. “Can I offer you anything?”
“I’m good.”
“Have a seat.” He waited for Lucas to settle in a chair and then tried to act cool as he asked the most important question he might ever ask. “What have you learned about Kevin Walker?”
Lucas shifted in his chair. Not a good sign. Nothing ruffled the six-foot-six, two-hundred-and-seventy-pound former Navy SEAL. Lucas opened the file he’d brought with him. “As you know he was arrested for bigamy eight months ago.”
Cal knew it because it was him who had discovered Kevin Walker’s other wives. Lucy had been his third wife. Walker had missed Poppy’s birth because he was sitting in a jail cell.
“What’s happening with those charges?”
“He was released
on bond and fled the state. They suspect he might be living with one of his wives in Utah. If convicted, he could get anywhere from two to ten years in jail and a hefty fine.” Lucas smirked. “The D.A. would really like to know his whereabouts.”
“If I find out, I’ll be sure to be a good citizen and let him know.”
“Did you know that Lucy has a protective order against him?”
“No. She said that he didn’t have any visitation rights, but she didn’t say why.”
Lucas grunted. “Restraining orders are typically given to victims of violence.”
“What are you saying?”
Lucas pulled a stack of photos out of the file and laid them on the desk in front of Cal. At first he wasn’t quite sure of what he was looking at, and then it came at him like a bullet, punching a hole into his chest and knocking him back into his seat. He flipped through the photos, the sick knot in his belly growing. They’d been taken at different times he realized. How could this be? What kind of sick bastard did this to a woman? He swallowed the bile rising up the back of his throat.
“How many times?” he managed to ask.
“Seven are documented here,” Lucas said quietly. “There are notes on several more. There was one brief hospitalization. For a burn.”
“Why isn’t this asshole in jail?”
“First conviction carries a small fine. There are charges pending on a second case that could include jail time and a bigger fine. It’s messed up, but the penalty for having more than one legal wife is heftier than beating your wife nearly unconscious.”
“Jesus fucking Christ. He better hope I never set eyes on him.”
“He better hope neither of us does.”
Cal handed the photos back to Lucas. “Find him.”
“Already on it. The lead about the rental car was a good one. He rented it under an alias that we can track if he uses it again.”
“I wanted to talk to you about the security at my house. It’s not adequate enough.”
Lucas handed him a second folder. “My proposal. Besides the nanny, what other security personnel would you like to add?”
“Yeah, and thank you for that. That’s just what I wanted, another man around my fiancée.”
