By the time he got home, Lucas was more than eager to see Paisley. The topic of the baby hadn’t been brought up again, but he knew full well she wasn’t done. It was something they needed to discuss and he’d much rather talk about a child than the revenge she knew nothing about.
For now, there was no reason for her to think anything other than the fact he was helping her business and they should start a family.
When he stepped off the private elevator, he froze.
What the hell?
Lucas dropped his keys onto the accent table to his right without even looking away from the newly decorated living area. This was...not his style. The throw pillows were everywhere. Some had polka dots, some had stripes. There was a tray on the oversize square ottoman that held candles and flowers.
A few new pictures hung on the walls...pictures with quotes that he didn’t want to take the time to read. They wouldn’t be staying.
“Oh, hey! You’re home.”
Lucas glanced toward the open kitchen and nearly swallowed his tongue. Paisley paraded through wearing an apron and heels—only an apron and heels—holding a glass of what he presumed to be his favorite bourbon.
“I hope you don’t mind I brought a few of my things over.” She strutted toward him and held out the tumbler. “I just thought since I’m staying here, you’d want me to be happy and feel at home.”
The moment he took the drink, she turned away, giving him the most impressive view of her bare ass and those legs.
“Dinner will be ready in ten minutes if you want to change,” she called over her shoulder.
Lucas tipped back the amber liquid and welcomed the burn. How long had he been gone? And how the hell did she find the time to do all of this?
He followed her to the kitchen and watched in awe as she pulled something from the oven that smelled better than anything he’d ever created here.
“I hope you like chicken Cordon Bleu.” She set the pan on the stove and closed the oven door then reached up to turn off the heat. “There’s also an apricot and feta salad to start.”
Lucas crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter next to her. “Are you going to just pretend like you didn’t completely redecorate and that you’re not cooking dinner completely naked?”
She shot him a half grin that didn’t help his growing arousal. Damn, she was playing a game. She was playing him.
“First of all, I’m not completely naked.” She had the nerve to pat his cheek before she turned back to dinner. “Second, with your archaic way of thinking, I just assumed you’d want me naked in the kitchen. Was I wrong? I’m just trying to be a good wife.”
She stopped looking through the cabinets to stare at him, blinking like she was utterly innocent.
Lucas slammed the cabinet door she’d been holding open. In one swift move, he gripped her waist and hoisted her up onto the island behind them. With a squeal, Paisley held on to his shoulders.
“Innocent is never a word I would use to describe you.” He stepped between her legs and stared directly into her eyes. “Are you done being a smart-ass?”
Paisley shrugged. “Probably not.”
“What the hell am I going to do with all of those ruffled pillows on my sofa?”
Paisley laughed. “Admire how much they spruce up the place?”
“They look ridiculous,” he grumbled.
Paisley toyed with the button on his shirt. “The honeymoon must really be over if I’m barely wearing anything and you’re worried about pillows.”
More like he was trying to hold on to the shred of control and not rip her apron off. How could he want her every second of the day? She seemed to have the same feelings, so why was he questioning this?
“Where were you anyway?” she asked, sliding one button undone, then another, and on down she went. “We barely got in the door and you took off.”
“Because when we’re alone all I want to do is get you on your back,” he growled, jerking his shirt off and flinging it to the floor. “I had work to do.”
She stilled. “About Sterling?”
Lucas took a step back. “Yeah. I went to the bar your mom worked at during the time she got pregnant with you.”