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If things had gone differently between them…
    She glanced down at the ring on her finger. He’d spent nearly the entire afternoon looking for the right ring, betting against the odds that she’d agree to marry him. Maybe it wasn’t fashionable to have colored stones in an engagement ring, but the sapphires reminded him of her eyes. She said she liked it, but she kept staring at it oddly, like it didn’t quite fit her.
    “Thank you,” she said, eyes still on the ring. “I promise I’ll do my best to uphold our bargain and be the kind of wife you need me to be.”
    He grabbed the bottle of whiskey and splashed more into each of their glasses. She was acting like a wounded puppy, and it pissed him off. He wanted the Lucy who went toe-to-toe with him and gave as good as she got. So maybe he’d have to draw that Lucy out.
    “What kind of wife do you think I need?” he asked.
    “Well,” she started and then took a sip. “You said you needed a hostess, someone to hold dinner parties?”
    “That’s right.”
    “I’m a fairly good cook, but I think it would probably be best if we had the dinners catered.”
    “And what about the charity balls? You do know how to dance, don’t you?”
    “I…ah…know how to sway…”
    She finished off her drink, so he refilled her glass. He wondered if she’d realized it yet that she was too drunk to drive home.
    “Do you know anything about corporate wives?” he asked.
    “I’m not sure if I’ve met very many.”
    “And your wardrobe. We’re going to have to make some changes. That blouse you’re wearing, besides being cut too low—” but not low enough for his taste, “—is too small. I can see half your bra.”
    She glanced down at her chest, then her head popped up. The fire was back in her eyes just as he intended. “You cannot see half my bra. It gapes a little, but it’s not obscene.”
    “Darlin’, from where I’m sitting, my eyes have practically gotten to second base with you. And your skirt—”
    “What about my skirt?”
    “It’s tight enough for when we’re at home. Personally the office sex kitten look does a lot for me, but it sends the wrong message to every other man who is not your soon-to-be husband.”
    “Look, I know I’ve put on some weight—”
    “Yeah, and you put it in all the right places. That’s what counts.” He ran his gaze over her the way he’d been wanting to ever since he’d seen her again this afternoon. She flushed under his gaze. “You’re making me want to add an addendum to the option we discussed in my office.”
    Her gorgeous mouth dropped open for a second and then she rebounded. “You’re a pig.” She didn’t sound half as pissed off as she would’ve been if she wasn’t so intoxicated.
    “I can’t help it. I’m a male pig. And you, darlin’, are very female.”
    “I have a question about that option.” She downed the last of her whiskey and pushed her glass at him for more. He obliged. “How open to options is it?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean just how many option clauses do you have open?” She was slurring her words now.
    “Just the one, darlin’. Just the one.”
    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