by Day Leclaire
He crossed to the empty crib, spinning the colorful mobile with a surprisingly gentle hand. Removing Toni’s crumpled pink blanket, he folded it and tossed it across the headboard. He’d cut himself hitting the wall; a streak of blood oozed from his bruised and scraped knuckles. If it bothered him, he gave no indication.
“I was fourteen when Pietro was bom,” he began. “I guess you’d call my brother an afterthought, though Mom and Dad were delighted by the addition. He’d make it an even half dozen, they’d say. The first time I saw him, I thought he was the ugliest creature ever created. I called him ‘monkey face.’ “
Grace curled up in the rocker near the crib and watched him with concern. She’d stumbled across something — she didn’t quite know what — but at a guess it had a great deal to do with his feelings for Toni. “Pietro’s looks have improved with age,” she said lightly.
To her surprise a brief grin creased his face. “Yeah. They did.” The grin faded. “Mom died when he was only a couple of months old.”
“Oh, no,” Grace cried softly.
He swatted at the mobile again, sending the cartoon characters careening in a drunken circle. “I’m not sure whether it was the stress of Pietro’s birth — she was in her forties by the time she had him — or the pneumonia that killed her. Who knows? Maybe it was a combination of the two. Not that it matters now.”
“Where was Dom?”
“Dad was in Italy on business. We had trouble contacting him.” His voice deepened, the sound raspy with emotion. “Mom had all that information, but she went so fast she didn’t have time to tell us how . . . “
She left the rocker and crossed to his side. “What happened?” she asked, slipping her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his broad back. His skin felt warm and smooth beneath her face.
He didn’t push her away. Instead, he drew a deep breath. “Same as tonight. The police arrived to take us into foster care until Dad could come for us. I fought them. I mean, physically fought them.”
He sounded so cold and remote, so removed from his memories. But she knew it was a false impression. She could hear the harsh sound of his breathing, feel his tension beneath her hands. “Why did you fight?” she asked.
“Family unity was drummed into us from the cradle. My mother’s last request was that I keep everyone together until Dad returned. But the police wanted to separate us. I couldn’t let them do that.”
“You did your best, Luc,” she said urgently. “You were so young. Too young to care for an infant, to supervise four rambunctious boys.”
His hands fisted on the bars of the crib. “I was in charge. It was my duty to keep us all together until Dad came home. I tried. Heaven knows, I tried. But I didn’t succeed. They took my brothers. Alessandro, the twins, Rocco and Pietro. They needed three policemen to hold me down while they got them all out of the house.” He closed his eyes, swallowing hard. “We were dispersed to various foster homes. Three weeks later Dad returned.”
“He didn’t blame you?” she asked in alarm.
“Never. But I knew I’d failed. I won’t fail again. I swear, I’ll do anything — anything — to regain custody of Toni until Carina and Pietro get back.”
“What are you planning?” she asked uneasily.
He turned in her arms, gazing down at her, his eyes dark with a passionate intensity. “You and I,” he informed her in a hard, determined voice, “are now officially married.”
“You can’t be serious,” she exclaimed, taking a quick step back.
His hands dropped to her shoulders, holding her in place. “I’m dead serious. Hatcher said having a permanent female presence in the house might tip the scales in our favor, and that’s just what I intend to have.”
“But what about Will… William?”
“What about him?” he demanded.
There was a recklessness about Luc that worried her, and her gaze slid nervously from his. Perhaps this wasn’t the best time to mention her supposed fiancPS. “I’ll … discuss it with him.”
“Yeah. You do that. In the meantime, I want as much of your stuff over here as we can carry. When Miss Emergency Response Worker arrives on my doorstep, I want her to find a happily married couple — his-and-hers hairbrushes on the dresser, our toothbrushes sharing a tube of toothpaste and my shoes playing footsie with yours on the closet floor.”
If only she had time to think, time to line up all the reasons why his plan wouldn’t work. She pulled from his grasp and tightened the sash of her robe, thrusting her hair back from her face. “In case it escaped your notice, I haven’t agreed to your request.”
He turned on her. “Are you refusing your help?”
Was she? She frowned, eyeing the empty crib with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. With each passing hour, Luc drew her further and further into his personal problems. When Dom returned, could she face him honestiy and say that she’d kept their agreement? But then, how could she leave Luc in such dire straits? How could she desert him?
“Do we have to claim we’re married?” she asked. “The police think we’re engaged. What happens if they compare notes?”
“Then we’ll show them our marriage certificate.”
She stared at Luc in shock. “What?”
“Tomorrow we apply for a license and have all the required testing done, just in case a temporary marriage is necessary.”
“No! I won’t do it.”
He approached, towering over her, his face set in hard, determined lines. “Oh, yes, you will. I don’t care what it takes. I’ll give you whatever you want, but you will do this. If not for me, for Toni.”
She faced him defiantly. “You have such a way with words.”
He inhaled deeply, pain etching deep furrows across his brow. “I’m sorry. I know I’m doing this all wrong. But … Please, Grace. I need you. I need your help. I can’t let them take Toni away.”
She closed her eyes, knowing she should turn him down flat. A strident voice of logic told her there wasn’t a single valid reason for helping him, and every reason in the world for refusing. If she was smart, she’d listen to that voice. If she was smart …
“All right,” she whispered. “I’ll do it.”
And then he kissed her, a kiss of such passion and heat that it was more than enough to still even the voice of logic.
The phone woke her at the crack of dawn that morning. Grace crawled out of bed, every weary muscle in her body making her painfully aware that she’d hardly slept a wink after the police had left. Once again, she pulled on her robe and trudged toward the study.
“Pietro!” she heard Luc exclaim. “Where are you? What! Itpazzo! What the hell are you doing back in Italy?”
“What’s going on?” she asked, fighting back a yawn. “What’s Pietro doing in Italy?”
Luc covered the mouthpiece. “Trying my patience.” He spoke into the phone again. “Listen up, it’s gotten serious here. The police came last night and took Toni.” She winced, able to hear Pietro’s furious protests clear across the room. “Tell him we need a custody statement,” she urged.
“Shut up and listen,” Luc snapped.
She couldn’t hide her hurt. “I was just trying to help.”
“No, not you, Grace.Pietro. Come again? Never mind what she’s doing here at this hour. It’s what you have to do that’s important.”
Grace closed her eyes and groaned. Just when she’d thought matters couldn’t get any worse, fate … or in this case Luc Salvatore … proved her wrong.
“You know that if it’s within my powers I’ll get Toni back, but we need a signed custody statement from Carina and a medical-permission slip. Can you get her to give them to you?”
Grace crossed to Luc’s side. “Don’t forget the birth certificate,” she reminded him.
“Right.And a copy of Toni’s birth certificate. You fax me the documents as soon as possible, is that clear? Otherwise, they’ll put your daughter in a foster home and you’ll have a hell of a
time getting custody again.”
Grace tugged at Luc’s arm. He glanced down at her, exhaustion lining his face. Clearly, he hadn’t slept, either. “Tell him it’ll be okay,” she said. “Tell him to take care of Carina and we’ll take care of Toni. Reassure him.”
He nodded briefly. “Don’t worry, Pietro. You know I’ll take care of everything. Just get home as soon as you can.” After exchanging a few more words, he hung up. “Get dressed,” he ordered Grace briskly. “If we’re going to get Toni home tonight, we’ve got a list of chores a mile long to accomplish beforehand.”
First on his list turned out to be moving as many of her belongings as possible to his apartment. In no time, they’d practically stripped her place bare and filled up his car with personal possessions.
Jingling the car keys in his pocket, he stood by her front door. “Ready?” he asked, obviously impatient to get to the second item on his list — the marriage license.
“I’ll be right out,” she said, suddenly remembering her answering machine. Who knew when she’d return to her apartment. She’d better check messages before she left. She didn’t doubt there’d be at least one from her father.
To her dismay, there were three. Each one urged her to call home, that he had a surprise for her. Well, the surprise would have to wait until her situation returned to normal. Next on the tape was her ridiculous conversation with the fictitious William. Shooting a nervous glance over her shoulder, she fast-forwarded through the nonsensical spiel. To her horror, right after her monologue came a message from Luc.
“Well, well . . . “ he practically purred into the tape. “How very interesting.”
She stared at the machine in confusion. What… ? Then she remembered the call he’d made in the study — right on the heels of her own. Did his phone have one of those buttons that automatically redialed the last number called? She struggled to remember. She could check, but she was about ninety-percent positive there had been. Which meant that after she’d supposedly chatted with her “fiancS,” Luc had pushed the redial button and discovered that far from calling William, she’d phoned her own apartment.
She shut her eyes. No wonder he’d questioned the existence of any remaining roadblocks. With her disguise stripped away and his discovery that William didn’t exist, he must have figured the road was perfectly clearclear for seduction.
“Grace! Move it, will you?”
She jumped. How could she face him? What could she possibly say? “Coming!” she called.
She’d just have to muddle through the best she could. He must have left the message deliberately, so she’d know he knew. And now that she did … and he did … She groaned, covering her face. Maybe she could pretend she hadn’t listened to the messages. She could give him her most innocent look and pray her eyes didn’t go all cloudy or any such nonsense. Yes. That’s what she’d do. Hadn’t she gotten rather good at these sorts of fibs?
“What the hell is taking so long?” Luc strode into the room.
Oops.
His gaze moved from her answering machine to her bright red face and for the first time that day he grinned. “Something you forgot to tell me?”
“Not a thing,” she declared, leaping to her feet. “Shall we go?”
He stood in front of her, his arms folded across his chest. “Not until you admit there is no William.”
She lifted her chin. “Of course, there’s a William.” Whipping past him before he could stop her, she headed for the door. “I just don’t happen to be engaged to him.”
With a bark of laughter, Luc followed.
The next few hours passed in a mad dash. After setting the wheels in motion for a quickie wedding should the need arise, Luc purchased a wedding band for Grace, overriding her heated objections with callous determination.
“I don’t have time to argue with you about this,” he informed her impatiently, shoving the ring over her knuckle. “You’ve pretended to be engaged for the past eleven months. Now you’re pretending to be married. What’s the difference?”
She glared at him. “Give me a minute and I’ll tell you.”
“We don’t have a minute. The emergency-response worker assigned to our case is meeting us at the apart-
ment at noon. That doesn’t give us much time to get everything in place.”
Realizing her arguments were fruitless in the face of such overwhelming resolve, she gave up and returned with Luc to his apartment. At the stroke of twelve she positioned the last of her personal possessions, and as if in response, the doorbell rang. Joining Luc at the door, they welcomed the social worker together.
Ms. Cartwright proved to be a very pleasant, nononsense careerwoman in her late thirties, and it took Luc precisely three minutes to totally charm her.
The first minute they exchanged names and business cards. Luc introduced Grace as his wife and thanked Ms. Cartwright for taking the time out of her busy schedule to visit with them.
The second minute, he fired a thousand questions about Toni’s well-being at the startled woman.
The third minute, he relaxed, apologized for his abruptness and offered her one of his most stunning smiles. Grace had long ago realized that his smile could melt steel. Melting Ms. Cartwright was a cinch compared to that. Drawing her into the living room, he focused both that smile and his intense golden eyes on the hapless woman.
“You see,” Luc explained, and there was no mistaking the rough sincerity in his voice, “Toni is family. You tell me what I have to do to get her back here until her parents return from Italy and I’ll do it. Anything.”
Ms. Cartwright visibly softened. “Please understand, Mr. Salvatore. We aren’t trying to split your family apart. We just want what’s best for the child.”
He inclined his head in satisfaction. “Then we have the same goal. I think you’ll find what’s best is for Toni to be returned to her family. Let me show you around and then we’ll discuss what needs to be done.”
Ms. Cartwright inspected every inch of the apartment with a nerve-racking thoroughness. Eventually, she wandered into their temporary nursery. “Why, what a beautiful room you have here,” she said, pausing in the doorway. “You did all this for your niece?”
“Not just for Toni,” Luc claimed, shooting an openly smoldering look in Grace’s direction. “I was hoping to give her cousins sometime soon.”
Ms. Cartwright beamed, patting Grace’s arm. “I can tell by that blush that you’re a newlywed. Ben Hatcher referred to you as Mr. Salvatore’s fiancee in his report. You must have married recently?”
“Very,” Luc answered for Grace.
The social worker made a brief notation on her clipboard. “I’m glad to hear that. I rarely approve a home where the primary caretakers aren’t married. And who would have the main responsibility for Toni during the day?”
“We both would,” Luc said. “I’ve arranged to work out of the apartment until my brother and his wife return.”
“Wife?” Ms. Cartwright frowned. “I understood that Ms. Donati was a single parent. In fact, I’m a little concerned that you first told the police that your brother and Ms. Donati were married, then later admitted that wasn’t true.”
A variety of emotions chased across Luc’s face… frustration, anger and finally resignation. “To be honest, Ms. Cartwright, I would have said just about anything to keep Toni with her family,” he confessed in a low voice. “I know it’s a terrible admission, but my brother had entrusted Toni to my care and I didn’t want to let him down.”
“I understand your feelings, but I must insist on absolute honesty from now on.” The social worker was serious. She tapped her pencil against the clipboard, and Grace knew without question there’d be no charming her into overlooking any future fibs. “Lying to the police, or to us for that matter, is a grave offense. If we uncover any further.. .discrepancies, you will not be permitted to care for your niece now or any time in the future. Are we clear on this?”
Grace thought she’d pass out at
the woman’s feet. She didn’t dare look at Luc. Instead, she stood as still as possible, fighting to keep from toying nervously with her phony wedding band. How had she managed to get herself into this mess? Maybe she’d phone her father, after all. She needed a good, strong dose of his common sense and principles. One of his lectures wouldn’t go amiss around about now, either.
Luc weathered the imminent crisis far better. He forked his fingers through his hair and then inclined his head. “We’re clear,” he said.
Ms. Cartwright didn’t seem to notice anything wrong. She examined the pages attached to her clipboard and said, “I’m also concerned about the mother in this case.”
“Carina is young and rather emotional,” Luc offered, stepping into the breach once again. “She wasn’t thinking straight when she left Toni with us. She’d just had a baby out of wedlock — something both her family and her religion frown on. And she’d just learned her mother was on death’s door. The one smart thing she did was to come to my brother for help.”
“But he left the baby, too.”
“In my custody. I’m the eldest, and my brothers have always come to me when they needed help. Look, Ms. Cartwright. I’m positive they’ll marry very soon and return to straighten all this out. If social services wants to investigate me to ensure I’m a fit temporary guardian for Toni, then fine. If they want to camp out on my doorstep in order to keep an eye on me, they’re welcome. All I ask is that you let me take care of Toni until Carina and Pietro get back.”
His impassioned speech clearly had an affect on Ms. Cartwright. “You make a very eloquent case for yourself, Mr. Salvatore,” she said with a sigh.
“That was my intention.”
She frowned as she considered the viability of his request. “Very well,” she said. “I still have to do some routine investigation of your situation. It would help if you’d provide references, both financial and personal.”
“Done. Will that take care of it?”
“Not quite. If you can get a letter of consent from the mother, a copy of the baby’s birth certificate and a medical-permission slip in my hands by the end of the day, then I’ll recommend that Toni be returned to you.”