A woman who has nothing. A man who wants for nothing.
Delia Woodson is desperate. That's why she agrees to it. Because she's a painter, no one is buying her paintings, and she's desperate. She has bills to pay, food to buy. Someday she might actually want to live in her own apartment instead of on her friend's couch. And all she has to do is paint baby-faced angels on an indecently rich, corporate shill's ceiling. Because, he just can't think of any other way to spend his money? And she just can't think of any other way to make it.
Jack Cabot doesn't want the mural his mother has commissioned for his office ceiling. He doesn't want the distraction, he doesn't want the silliness. He doesn't want the artist now spending her days ten feet above his head. The artist with paint in her hair, distracting him. Bickering with him. Amusing him...
Before long, Jack finds he does want something after all. And now all he has to do is convince Delia that she already has what every woman wants. Someone perfectly right for her.
