The Secret the Italian Claims

by Jennie Lucas

  He shook his head.

  “Anytime your regular housekeeper, Camille, was sick or needed to take her grandchildren to school.” She gave a wistful smile. “Dusting your pictures, I used to look at your face and wonder what it would be like to...”

  “Yes?” he said, drawing closer, putting his hand on her bare shoulder above the straps of her sundress. A hard shiver went through her.

  The elevator reached their floor, and the door slid open with a ding.

  “But that was before I knew you,” she said steadily. “Now nothing on earth could make me love you again.”

  She walked out of the elevator, head held high. Cristiano reached past her to unlock the penthouse door with his fingerprint, still holding their baby’s carrier on his arm.

  The city skyline, sparkling through floor-to-ceiling windows, was the only light in the penthouse.

  The darkness was suggestive. Intimate. Setting down the baby carrier, Cristiano turned to face her.

  “I don’t know about love,” he said in a low voice. “It’s not something I’ve ever felt, or wanted to feel.” Reaching out, he tucked a tendril of Hallie’s hair behind her ear. “But from the moment I first heard you sing, I knew you were different from any woman I’d ever known.”

  “Thank you.” Shivering from his brief touch, she tried to smile. “That’s why I came to New York. Did you know? I dreamed of becoming a world-famous singer.”

  For all his praise, he looked surprised. “A singer?”

  Hallie gave a low laugh. “Did you think I came all the way from West Virginia because my big dream was to be a maid in your hotel?”

  “No?” Cristiano smiled. “You certainly have the voice, cara. The heartbreak and longing of your song—you made me feel it. Your voice was the first thing I noticed about you.” His eyes slid over her face, to her bare shoulders, down her curvy body beneath the cotton sundress. “Do you want to know the second thing?”

  A wave of heat went through her. Her cheeks burned as she whispered, “No.”

  Maybe he wasn’t doing it on purpose, she thought. Maybe he flirted without thinking, like breathing. He couldn’t really still want her. But something in his eyes made her think—

  He turned away, picking up the baby carrier. Beckoning Hallie to follow, he pushed open the first door down the hall.

  “You can sleep here tonight.”

  Confused, she followed him into the pristine guest room that she’d cleaned many times long ago. “Who’s in charge of cleaning this now?”

  “Still Camille. I have no idea who her backup is.” He gave her a crooked grin. “They’re more careful than you were not to be seen.”

  With a snort, Hallie looked around the guest room. “Every time I changed these sheets, they seemed untouched. I used to wonder if the room was ever used.”

  He set the baby carrier gently on the floor. “It isn’t.”

  Frowning, she turned to look at him. “Never?”

  “You’re my first guest.”

  “But surely you’ve invited family, friends—”

  “I have no family,” he said. “When friends visit, I give them their own suite downstairs.”

  “Oh.” No family, she thought. And though he lived in a luxurious hotel, he had no real home. In some ways, they were the same. Strange. For a moment their eyes met. Then she saw the boxes stacked neatly in the corner. “My things!”

  She rushed over and started digging through the boxes. Relief poured through her as she found the family pictures, her father’s watch, her brother’s old baseball trophy, her mother’s music box. All the photos, still warped and faded, found on the banks of the river. Blinking away tears, she leaned back on her haunches and looked up at Cristiano.

  “Everything is here. Thank you.” Her voice choked. “You don’t know what this means to me.”

  “So I’m not still an indecent excuse for a man?”

  She blushed. “I never should have said—”

  “It’s all right.” He turned away. “I’ll leave you and the baby to rest.”

  “You’re not afraid I’m going to try to run away with him in the middle of the night?”

  He glanced back. “Are you planning to?”

  Hallie thought of the fierce joy in Cristiano’s face when he’d gotten the paternity test results that proved Jack was his son. How he’d been so protective of her. How he’d gotten her precious possessions back for her. He, too, had experienced the pain of losing family and home.

  She could no longer imagine stealing Jack away when Cristiano wanted so clearly to be part of his life.

  “You’re Jack’s father,” she said in a small voice. “I wouldn’t try to hurt you.”

  His shoulders relaxed. He motioned around the guest room and en suite bathroom. “It should be equipped with everything you require.”

  “And then some,” she said, noticing the crib and a co-sleeper both set up on the other side of the king-size bed.

  Following her gaze, Cristiano said awkwardly, “I didn’t know how you and the baby prefer to sleep. My assistant said both of those were popular with new mothers.”

  “Thank you.” She gave him a smile. “It’ll be fun to use a co-sleeper that’s new. The crib looks nice, too.”

  He gave a brief nod. “If you get hungry or need anything, just lift up the phone and dial one. It’s an express line to the front desk and will be prioritized above all other calls. The staff pride themselves on answering on the first ring.” Coming forward, he put his hand gently on Hallie’s bare shoulder. She felt his touch race through her entire body, setting her nerves aflame.

  “Until tomorrow,” he said in a low voice.

  After Cristiano left, closing the door behind him, Hallie took the baby carrier with her into the en suite bathroom. As Jack babbled contentedly from his carrier nearby, she took a quick, hot shower. She let all the sweat and anxiety of the long day wash off into steamy bliss. She washed her hair with the expensive shampoos and conditioners she’d once just stocked as a housekeeper. Afterward, she stepped into a soft, thick white terry-cloth robe from the heated stand. Her skin was pink and warm with steam as she came out and saw Jack was still happy in his baby carrier, cooing at the soft giraffe dangling from the handle.

  “Now your turn, little one.” Unbuckling him from the carrier, she cuddled him close, kissing his soft head and chubby cheeks. She gave him a warm bath in the baby bathtub she found in the bathroom cabinet along with baby shampoo. Drying him off, she put him in a new diaper and clean footie pajamas.

  Cuddling her baby close, she went to the soft new glider chair by the bedroom window and took a deep breath, relishing Jack’s sweet, clean baby smell. After reading him a short baby book from a collection on the shelf, she fed him and rocked him to sleep, then tucked him snugly into the co-sleeper.

  Hearing her stomach growl, Hallie tried to remember the last time she’d eaten. A stale cookie at the single mothers support group? It seemed a year ago. Which reminded her. She grabbed her phone from her bag and messaged Tess and Lola.

  I’m staying at his penthouse tonight. He got everything back from the landlord. I think everything’s going to be fine.

  Plugging her cell phone in to recharge, she turned to the bulky phone plugged in to the wall. Hungry though she was, she couldn’t imagine calling room service, especially so late. She’d never ordered it herself, but her parents had told her about room service after they’d gone to a hotel in Cincinnati for their twenty-fifth anniversary.

  “It was so expensive!” her father had exclaimed.

  “With a required twenty-percent gratuity,” her mother had breathed in shock, “and a delivery fee on top of that!”

  “And the food arrived cold!” he’d added indignantly. “Room service is for suckers who want to burn money!”

  Hallie smiled at the memory. Her smile faded
as she felt all over again how much she missed them. Then she shook her head decisively. No room service. She’d just have to find something in Cristiano’s kitchen.

  Tightening the belt on her white terry-cloth robe, she peeked out into the penthouse’s dark hallway, telling herself that Cristiano was already asleep in his own bedroom. But when she crept into the kitchen, she saw him sitting on the white sofa in the great room, his handsome, intent face shadowed by the glow of his laptop.

  Looking up, he saw her, and the smile that lit up his hard, handsome features made her heart skip a beat.

  “Can’t you sleep?” Closing his laptop, he rose to his feet. He must have taken a shower, because his hair was wet. His chest was bare, revealing the defined curves of his muscled torso in the moonlight streaming through the windows. He wore only low-slung drawstring pajama pants. Very low-slung, clinging to edges of his hips, revealing the trail of dark hair on his taut belly.

  Her mouth went dry. She had to force her eyes up.

  “I’m, um, hungry,” she croaked, praying he couldn’t read her thoughts. Licking her lips, she gazed around the room, desperate to look anywhere but at his powerful bare chest, the flat plane of his stomach or the drawstring pants barely clinging to his hips.

  “Did you call room service?”

  What did room service have to do with anything? Oh, yes. She’d said she was hungry. Her eyes met his, and he gave her a sensual, heavy-lidded smile. She blushed to realize that he had caught her looking after all.

  “It’s not necessary. I’ll just rummage in your fridge if that’s all right.”

  Cristiano looked amused. “Go right ahead.”

  But as she opened the door of his sleek, commercial-grade refrigerator, she was disappointed to see only an expensive bottle of vodka and some martini olives.

  She turned back with a frown. “Where is your food?”

  “I don’t cook.”

  Peeking in his freezer, she saw ice cubes. That was it. No ice cream or even frozen broccoli past its sell-by date.

  She’d known from her time cleaning the penthouse that Cristiano Moretti wasn’t exactly a chef, but the level of emptiness shocked her. Hallie looked through the cupboards with increasing desperation. They were empty except for a few items that belonged in a wet bar. Disappointed, she looked at him accusingly.

  “Don’t you even snack?”

  He shrugged. “I lead a busy life. Why own a hotel if I don’t use the amenities?”

  “No one can hate cooking this much.”

  He gave her a sudden grin. “I prefer to think of it as quality assurance. What can I say? I’m a workaholic.”

  “I know,” she sighed.

  “Get room service.”

  She shook her head. “It’s the middle of the night. And do you know how much it costs?”

  He looked amused again. “You do know I own this hotel?”

  She tried not to stare at the curve of his sensual lips. Then she realized she’d just licked her own. Her blush deepened. She croaked, “That’s no excuse to—”

  “I’ll order it for you.” He went to the kitchen phone on the marble counter. Picking it up, he looked at her in the shadowy kitchen. “What do you want?”

  Want? What a suggestive question. Hallie’s gaze lingered on his broad shoulders, his powerful arms, his muscular chest dusted with dark hair. She could see the outline of his powerful thighs beneath the thin knit fabric of his drawstring pants. He gave her a wicked smile. She realized he’d caught her looking again.

  Quick, say something intelligent to distract him! she told herself desperately.

  “Um...what do you recommend?”

  No!

  His eyes gleamed. “Shall I tell you?”

  Her heart was pounding in her throat. “I’ll have a cheeseburger and fries,” she said quickly. “And a strawberry shake.”

  Cristiano’s sensual lips curved, as if he knew exactly how her blood was racing and her heart was pounding. She was suddenly afraid to even meet his gaze. Turning to the phone, he gave the order swiftly, then hung up. “Your dinner will be here in nine minutes.”

  Hallie looked at him incredulously. “Nine minutes? That’s impossible.”

  “Know all about room service, do you?” He sounded amused again.

  “My parents told me horror stories. Cold food, small portions, no ketchup, then a big bill.”

  “Let’s test out your theory.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Care to place a friendly wager?”

  “What kind of wager?”

  Going back to the sofa, he sat down and patted the cushion beside him.

  She sat down hesitantly beside him, perching awkwardly on the edge of the sofa. She was suddenly aware that she was naked beneath her bathrobe. Nervously she pulled it a little tighter around her. “What do you have in mind?”

  “If your food arrives within—” he glanced at his platinum watch “—seven minutes and forty-eight seconds, I win. If it doesn’t, you win.”

  “What do I win?”

  His eyes flickered. “What if I cook breakfast for you tomorrow?”

  She snorted. “Cereal?”

  Cristiano shook his head. “Eggs and bacon. Belgian waffles. Anything you want.”

  She was impressed in spite of herself. “But you hate cooking.”

  “I won’t have to do cook.”

  “You won’t?”

  “Because I’m not going to lose.”

  The man had confidence, she’d give him that. “And if you do win, what would you want from me?”

  His dark eyes glinted wickedly.

  “A kiss.”

  A rush of need crackled through her body as her lips tingled in anticipation. She croaked, “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  She couldn’t risk placing this bet. She hated him. Didn’t she? Not exactly. Not anymore. But she definitely didn’t want him to kiss her. Did she? Okay, maybe she did, but she knew it would lead to disaster. On that, her body and brain and heart agreed. She could not let him kiss her again.

  Yet Hallie was unable to look away from his hungry gaze. “Why would you want to kiss me?”

  “Why not?” he said lazily.

  Was he bored? Or just suggesting it to throw her off-kilter and make clear his power over her? “No, thanks. I’m not the gambling kind.”

  “I think you are. If you refuse my wager, then you’re admitting that you might be wrong.” He leaned toward her on the white sofa, almost close enough to touch. “And I might be right.”

  Her heart was in her throat. “About room service?”

  “About everything,” he whispered, his lips almost grazing her cheek.

  She shivered at his closeness. Then she realized what he was saying and that he was talking about far more important issues than food.

  “I admit no such thing.” Still, as she drew back sharply, his gaze fell to her knee, and she realized that her robe had slipped open to reveal her crossed leg all the way to her thigh. Cheeks aflame, she covered her legs.

  His eyebrow lifted. “Then take the bet.”

  “Fine,” she snapped. “I’ll enjoy watching you cook for me tomorrow.” She lifted her chin. “But in addition to the food being delivered on time, to prove me wrong it also has to be the best cheeseburger, fries and shake I’ve ever had.”

  “It will be,” he said without hesitation, and held out his hand. She stared at it for a moment, then shook it as quickly as she could, desperately ignoring her body’s reaction at that brief touch.

  And so it was that exactly five minutes and four seconds later, a full fifteen seconds before the deadline, she found herself looking despondently at the white linen-covered room-service tray resting on the coffee table. As Cristiano got up to chat with the smiling room-service waiter, she sighed. Even the incredible smell of hot French
fries wafting through the air could offer no comfort. She knew she was about to lose their bet.

  A kiss.

  Hallie put her hands on her forehead. Why had she ever agreed to it? Why? How could she have been so stupid? Cristiano got room service all the time! He knew how long it took! He knew how good the food was!

  Did she want him to kiss her?

  But that was a question Hallie didn’t want to answer, not even to herself, as the waiter left and Cristiano came back. Turning on a lamp, he looked down at her. His cruel, sensual lips curved. “Don’t look so frightened.”

  She lied. “I’m not.”

  “You’re terrified.” Lifting the silver lid off the tray, he said idly, “Do you think I intend to take my kiss now, and ravish you against the wall?”

  With a flash of heat, images came to her mind. Mouth dry, she croaked, “I—”

  “Why don’t you try it?” he murmured, sitting beside her on the sofa. “See if you like it?”

  Her heart nearly stopped. She looked at him, lips parted.

  He held out a French fry.

  “Decide,” he said huskily, “if it’s the best you’ve ever had.”

  She stared from the French fry to the challenge in his eyes. Snatching the fried potato from his fingers, she licked off the salt, then popped the whole length into her mouth. It was so hot, salty and delicious that she gave an involuntary groan of pleasure.

  “So...good...” she breathed, briefly lost in ecstasy.

  A strangled noise came from the back of his throat. Looking up, she saw his handsome face looked strained.

  Clearing his throat, he rose from the sofa. “I’ll leave you to enjoy it.”

  “Wait. I haven’t tried the rest.” Although she knew, even before she picked up the cheeseburger, that it would be the best she’d ever had. She took a big bite, licking a splash of ketchup and mustard off her lips, then washed it all down with a milkshake of fresh strawberries whirled into vanilla ice cream. The milkshake was so thick she had to suck hard on the straw.

  Finally she looked up, defeated. “All right, you win—”

  Her voice cut off when she saw his face. He looked hungry, ruthless. Something in his eyes was dark and wild. He took a step toward her, his hands gripped at his sides, and the memory of his words flashed in her mind.