Salvatore 01 - Who's Holding the Baby

by Day Leclaire

  With a teasing grin, Marc threw himself at her feet. “Marry me, Grace!”

  Alessandro turned to confront Luc. “You kept her all covered up on purpose. That’s not fair.”

  Luc shrugged. “I told you. It wasn’t my idea. Blame Will-William.”

  Marc gained his feet, a frown darkening his handsome face. “Your fiance makes you dress like that? Like … like . . . “

  “Like a bag lady,” Luc supplied helpfully.

  “He makes you dress like a bag lady?” Marc’s frown grew darker. “What the hell for?”

  “Yeah,” Stef echoed, an identical frown lining his brow. “What the hell for?”

  For the first time, Grace managed to get a word in edgewise. “To protect me from my boss,” she deadpanned, trying to relieve the mounting tension. It hadn’t occurred to her that they’d see her disguise in such an ominous light.

  “To protect you?” Rocco questioned in astonishment.

  “From Luc?”

  “It worked, didn’t it?” she said with an impish grin. Her jest broke the mood, the four brothers bursting into laughter. Crossing to the table, she caught a brief glimpse of Luc’s narrowed, thoughtful gaze. That one look was sufficient. She didn’t dare glance his way again. It was as though a light bulb had just gone on in Ms head. She suspected that she’d given a little too much away with that last crack, and Luc had caught her slip.

  Anxious to change the subject, she scooped Toni out of Luc’s arms. “So, what do you think of your niece?” she asked the room at large.

  Her question brought a slew of responses, each proud uncle attempting to outflatter the others. It was clear they adored the newest member of the family. Within minutes, she’d been snatched away from Grace, and even as they enjoyed their meal, Toni continued to be ensconced on one or the other of her uncles’ laps. On the receiving end of so much adoration, she kicked her little legs and waved her hands, blinking adoringly into each handsome face.

  “Flirt,” Rocco announced in proud disgust. “It’s a good thing you have so many uncles. You’ll need them to beat off the boyfriends.”

  “So, when does Pietro return?” Alessandro asked. “Soon, I hope,” Luc responded. “Until he does, Grace has agreed to help me with Toni.”

  “You’re staying here?” Marc questioned with an impudent grin.

  Throwing a troubled glance Luc’s way, she nodded. So much for keeping this episode from Dom. She could only hope he’d be reasonable. If she could continue to hold Luc at a distance, she didn’t think there would be a problem. The only question being, could she do it? She hadn’t realized how much she’d come to depend on her disguise for protection. With that blown, she’d just have to cling even tighter to the imaginary William.

  “Yes,” she said. “I’m using Luc’s guest room until Pietro or Carina returns. Which reminds me . . . “ She slipped from her chair and addressed Luc. “I need to call my fiancS and give him an update. Do you mind if I use the phone in your study?”

  “Feel free.” She couldn’t read his expression, but somehow she suspected it held amusement. “Oh, and Grace . . . “

  She glanced back over her shoulder. “Yes?”

  This time she couldn’t mistake his amusement. “Be sure and give him my regards.”

  The buzz of questions began the moment she stepped from the room. She didn’t doubt for a minute they were about her and William. And from their tone, she also didn’t doubt they were critical. Not that it mattered. A few more weeks and she could dispense with her engagement ring and be finished forever with lies and pretend engagements and futile disguises.

  Sitting in Luc’s study, she punched in her home phone number and spoke sheer drivel to her answering machine for the next ten minutes. Luc appeared in the doorway just as she’d cradled the receiver.

  “How’s Will-William?” he asked.

  “Anxious for Carina and Pietro to return so our lives can get back to normal,” she lied with composure.

  He continued to stand in the doorway, blocking her only avenue of escape. “He’s not concerned about your staying here?”

  She lifted her chin. “Should he be?”

  “I would, if I were your fiance.” He left the doorway and approached, standing directly in front of her chair. “In fact, I wouldn’t allow you to spend five minutes in another man’s apartment without me, let alone the entire night.”

  Anger sparked in her eyes. “But then, you’re not my fiance. And for the record, no man allows me to do anything. I do what I choose.”

  He smiled with a complacency that made her very, very nervous. “And you’ve chosen to stay with me.”

  “With Toni,” she amended.

  He let her correction slide without comment. Folding his arms across his chest, he tilted his head to one side. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

  “Thank you.” She practically leapt from the chair, anxious to end this conversation and put some extra bodies between them. Nice, tall, protective bodies in the form of four Salvatore brothers. “Shall we join the others?” she suggested. He didn’t move and to her distress, now that she was standing, they almost touched. Perhaps leaving the safety of the chair had been a mistake. He lowered his head, asking softly, “Nervous, cara?” She froze. “Not at all,” she managed to say, wondering if she could edge around him and escape out the door. “But as you’ve just pointed out, I am engaged, and this conversation isn’t appropriate.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “No? What’s inappropriate about it? The fact that I called you beautiful? Or the fact that we’re here … alone … together?” A smile edged across his mouth. “We’ll be alone tonight, and yet you just said that wasn’t a problem.”

  “It’s not!”

  “Then perhaps it’s that we’re standing so close.”

  “Luc-“

  “But that can’t be it. We stand this close to each other at work all the time.” His gaze dropped to the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. “Though I don’t remember it having quite this effect on you.” He captured her chin in his hand, his golden eyes once again on her face, watchful and dangerous. “Did it?”

  “No!” she denied instantly. “It didn’t. It still doesn’t.” He tilted his head to one side. “You’re lying,” he told her bluntly. “You know how I can tell? Your eyes. Those clear, bright green eyes cloud over like a stormy sky when you aren’t being honest. Is that why you wore those glasses? How many other lies have you told me while hiding behind a pair of tinted lenses, I wonder?”

  “Luc, please . . . “ she whispered.

  “I want to please you.” His voice was husky, deepening with an emotion she didn’t dare try to identify. “You don’t know how much I want to please you.”

  She bit her lip. “Our lives are complicated enough. Don’t make it any worse.”

  “Worse? I’ll make it better. Much, much better. Give it a chance, Grace. Give me a chance.”

  She was so very, very tempted. She shut her eyes and instantly a picture leapt to life. A picture of her mother sewing bits of lace and ribbon to the clever little stuffed animals she so lovingly created. “Baby dreams,” she’d called them. And from that the idea for Baby Dream Toys had been born, a business they’d plotted and planned to someday open together. She shook her head. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t sacrifice something so precious for a fleeting moment of pleasure. “No,” she whispered, opening her eyes. “I can’t. Let go of me, Luc. Please.”

  For a long minute he stood without speaking, his thoughtful gaze narrowed on her, as if trying to analyze something that defied analysis. His attention dropped briefly to her engagement ring and a small smile touched his mouth before he released her. ‘

  ‘By all means. Join my brothers. They’re about to leave, anyway.” He moved toward the phone. “I want to make a quick call. I’ll join you in a minute.”

  “All right.” She hesitated, something in his face setting off warning bells. But she couldn’t figure out why.

&n
bsp; He picked up the receiver and raised an eyebrow in question. “Anything else?” he asked.

  She shook her head, and without another word went in search of Luc’s brothers. She found them grouped in the living room, slipping on coats and giving Toni goodbye hugs and kisses. Grace smiled. That little girl was going to grow up being very spoiled … and very much loved.

  “Time to move out,” Alessandro announced, throwing open the front door and handing Grace the baby.

  “Look!” Marc exclaimed. “She smiled at me.”

  “So what?” his twin scoffed. “She’s been doing that to me all evening.”

  “Only because she got the two of us mixed up.”

  Luc suddenly appeared, bringing up the rear. “Quiet down,” he ordered, “And don’t forget. No one is to know Toni’s here. One run-in with the police was enough. We can’t risk another.”

  “You got it.”

  “Mum’s the word.”

  “Not a problem,” Alessandro assured. “Oh, hello, Mrs. Bumgartle. Were we being too noisy again?”

  A long, sharp nose poked around the doorway opposite. “This time I’m calling the manager. He’ll take care of you hooligans. See if he doesn’t!”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Bumgartle,” Luc said, crossing the hall to speak to her. “My brothers were just leaving. You won’t hear another sound out of them.” He threw a stem glance over his shoulder. “Right, boys?”

  She peered at Luc, then at his brothers, her eyes narrow with dislike. “Hooligans, the lot of you!” And with that she slammed the door.

  “Whoo-hoo,” Marc said with a chuckle. “I do love seeing Mrs. Bumgartle. It reminds me there’s one woman on this planet you can’t charm.”

  “Two women,” Stef corrected. “You’re forgetting about Cynthia. Remember? The tall, gorgeous brunette? Totally immune. She could freeze Luc dead in his tracks with one look.”

  Rocco slapped Luc on the back. “Don’t worry, big brother. Two out of millions. We won’t hold it against you.”

  Luc grinned. “Get out of here, before I knock some heads together. I’ll let you know when I hear from Pietro.”

  The four trooped toward the elevator and Grace lifted the baby to her shoulder. “I think that’s enough excitement for one day. Time for bed, young lady,” she announced and slipped back into Luc’s apartment.

  Across the hall, the door opened again. “Good night, Mrs. Bumgartle,” Luc called cheerfully. The door crashed shut and with a shrug he followed Grace into the apartment.

  “Did you speak to her about yesterday?” she asked, moving over to the picture windows in the living room. “I don’t want her to put the wrong connotation on anything she might have overheard.”

  He shook his head. “I never got the chance. It doesn’t matter. She makes empty threats all the time.”

  Grace frowned. “Still . . . “

  “Forget about Mrs. Bumgartle.” He came to stand next to her, dropping an arm around her shoulders, wrapping her and the baby in a protective embrace.

  She gazed at the window, fascinated by the image reflected there. They might have been a real family. Luc towered above her, elegant and broad shouldered in black trousers and a pullover sweater. Her soft green skirt seemed to cling to his legs with a life of its own. And Toni gurgled, her arms pumping the air as though trying to catch hold of him.

  “Tell me, Grace.” His hand slipped along the nape of her neck and he caught a fistful of streaked curls in his hand. “Is it my imagination, or is your hair lighter?” She stiffened against him, hastily ducking to press a kiss to the top of Toni’s head. “Does it seem lighter?” she asked in a muffled voice, tufts of soft black hair tickling her lips. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Don’t play games with me, Grace.” His voice acquired a rough, impatient edge. “You’ve been coloring it. Why?”

  She shrugged. “It’s a woman’s prerogative, isn’t it?”

  “To go from gold to mud brown?” he asked derisively. “Of course. It makes perfect sense.”

  She attempted to step free of his arms, but he still held her hair clenched in his fist and for a moment she didn’t think he’d let go. “I’d like to put Toni down,” she said quietly.

  He opened his hand, releasing her. “I’ll help.”

  She knew better than to argue when he used that tone. She inclined her head in agreement and led the way to the guest room, which was rapidly being converted into a dream nursery. A changing table now stood near the gleaming white crib — both special deliveries from a nearby furniture store. Next to the changing table hung a Toys-a-Trillion pet net, a triangular hammock that attached to the wall and held every conceivable stuffed animal.

  Laying Toni on the changing table, Grace wound up a music box to keep the baby entertained while she took care of the lengthy process of putting on dry diapers and slipping a wiggly baby into pajamas.

  “Why don’t you sleep in my bed tonight.”

  Grace started, jabbing herself with the diaper pin. “Ouch!” She glared at Luc, holding up a wounded finger. “Look what you made me do.”

  A lazy grin drifted across his mouth. “You want me to kiss it better?”

  “Not a chance.” She snatched a damp baby wipe from its plastic box and wrapped it around her finger. “And just to clarify… That ‘not a chance’ is in response to both of your requests. You know I won’t sleep with you. I’m engaged.”

  “So you keep reminding me. But, I don’t recall asking you to sleep with me, though if you’re offering . . . “

  “I’m not,” she snapped, carrying Toni from the changing table to the crib. “Then what were you asking?”

  “Offering, not asking. I’m offering my bed. It’s my turn to get up with Toni for the middle-of-the-night feeding and diaper change. So either we push the crib into my room or I sleep in here.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said, dismissing his concerns. “I’ll take care of Toni. You stay right where you are.”

  He shook his head, a crooked smile drifting across his mouth. “Sorry. I can’t do that.” He switched off the lamp on the nightstand. A silly clown face night-light glowed near the crib, holding the darkness at bay. He moved toward her, his shadow leaping across the wall, joining with hers. “It wouldn’t be fair.’

  ‘

  “I don’t mind,” she insisted.

  “I do.” He caught her hand and tugged her out of the room. “Come on. We’ll go back to the living room and argue about it there.”

  “Luc . . . “‘ ‘You don’t want to argue about who takes care of Toni tonight?”

  “Not really.”

  Refusing to let go of her hand, he crossed to the couch, pulling her down next to him. “Then we’ll argue about the real reason for the disguise you’ve been hiding behind for almost a year.”

  “Why don’t we talk about the weather,” she suggested dryly, moving to the far side of the couch. “That’s always a nice, safe topic.”

  “The weather?Fine.” He closed the distance between them, crowding her against the cushions. “I sense a sudden heat wave. How about you?”

  She pressed her hands to his chest, aware that she’d just as soon wrap her arms around him as push him away. “Luc, cut it out. This isn’t a scene out of some 1940s romantic comedy, you know.”

  “You’re right.” He reached past her and turned off the lamp on the table behind them. Instantly, the room plunged into darkness. “Now it’s a scene out of a 1940s romantic comedy,” he murmured, his mouth nuzzling her ear. Moonlight filtered in through the picture windows and bathed them in a silvery glow. “The seduction scene to be exact.”

  Her breath stopped in her throat. He was so close, practically lying on top of her. “And I thought talking about the weather would be safe. I’m beginning to think there aren’t any safe topics with you,” Grace said. “Then let’s not talk.”

  “Don’t, Luc. I don’t want this.”

  “I think you do. Shall I tell you what else I think?” He didn’t w
ait for her answer. His hand tangled in her hair, the streaked curls spilling from between his fingers. “I think you dyed your hair and wore suits three sizes too large for a reason.”

  “What reason?” she asked, feeling alarmed.

  “For the same reason behind this.” He lifted her left hand and touched her engagement ring. “For protection.”

  She stared at him in shock. Did he know? Had she given herself away? She fought his hold. “You’re crazy.”

  “Am I?” His arms moved around her, pulling her tight. “You could be right about that. Let’s be crazy together.”

  He didn’t say any more. He simply lowered his head and kissed her. In that instant, she realized that her reaction to their first kiss hadn’t been a fluke. It was as if someone had thrown on a main power switch. Her senses came on-line, leaping to life with a jarring force that swept away all resistance, all thought, leaving only a desperate need behind, raw and undeniable.

  His kiss stole her breath, stole her will, and she almost groaned aloud. He tasted wonderful, as heady as fine champagne. One sip and her palate was forever jaded, never again to be satisfied with anything but the best. And he was the best.

  He broke off the kiss and shifted closer, his weight pressing her deep into the cushions, his body hard and taut against hers. She gazed up at him, wanting him to kiss her again but unable to ask, afraid of the words — afraid of the desire such words would express. His thick hair tumbled across his brow and he stared at her, his eyes no longer golden but two glittering shards of jet.

  “You’re safe with me,” he murmured, and she knew he’d sensed her fears as well as her desire. “I won’t hurt you, Grace, I swear it.”

  He kissed her again and she tilted her head, exposing the long line of her neck. His mouth drifted downward, following the deep V of her dress. Tenderly, he cupped her breast, caressing, stoking the fires that raged within her, driving her toward a sweet ecstasy she’d never before experienced.

  “Come to my bed, Grace,” he urged. “Let me show you how good it can be between us.”

  She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. But it would be wrong, for so many reasons. His mouth found hers again, tantalizing her with teasing little kisses, until all she could think or feel was a desperate craving for more. Lord, he was good at this. Unfortunately, that indicated he’d had plenty of practice. Which meant …