by Day Leclaire
Without another word, she slammed the door shut. To her disbelief, Toni had fallen asleep. How could Toni possibly nap through all the confusion? Grace wondered in amazement. Babies were such strange, little creatures. She heard the front door crash again. Had Dom left already? Did she dare sneak out and see?
Infuriated Italian burst from the direction of the living room. Well, that answered that question. Unable to resist, she pressed her ear to the louvered slats. Dom was still speaking … or yelling … in Italian.
“I told you I was sorry,” she heard Luc’s deep voice reply in English. He sounded remarkably calm. “Why didn’t you let us know you were coming?”
“I wished to surprise you for Thanksgiving. I called the office. They said you were working from your apartment. Why is this?”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” came the dry reply.
There was a long silence, and Grace could almost see Dom mull over Luc’s response. “You have a woman here, am I right?” he demanded. “That is why you slam the door in my face. Where have you hidden her?”
Grace shrank back, tripped, and tumbled to the floor next to the laundry basket. She gripped her fingers together and prayed they hadn’t heard her — praying even harder that Toni wouldn’t wake up and bellow in annoyance.
“Actually, I have two,” came Luc’s cool response. “A blonde and a brunette.”
Grace held her breath, waiting for Dom’s reactionwaiting for him to explode or come and ferret her from her hiding place. An instant later she heard his bark of laughter. “Due. That is a good one. I almost believe you.”
“You want to check the bedroom? I have them hiding in there.”
It was all Grace could do to keep from shrieking. Was he crazy? Luc’s question seemed to hang in the air for endless minutes. Then Dom sighed. “I apologized for that little incident,” he grumbled. “The young lady forgave me, even if you did not. I wish to change the sub-
ject. Where is Grace? I asked for her at the office and they said she was out as well.”
“I gave her the afternoon off. She’s been working very hard lately.”
“She is a good girl. I am very fond of her.”
“There’s certainly more to her than meets the eye.” Dom chuckled. “I think your words are more true than you realize.”
“Don’t count on it,” came Luc’s risky reply. “But enough about business. How was your trip to Italy? We’ve missed you.”
As their voices grew fainter, dropping to a gentle rumble, Grace curled up next to the laundry basket. That had been close. If Dom had walked in and discovered her … She shuddered. It would have meant the end of her plan to open Baby Dream Toys.
Not that it didn’t anyway.
She dropped her chin to her knees and sighed. One thing she did know — she couldn’t avoid Dom forever. What would she say when they met? She couldn’t very well pretend this year had gone off without a hitch. She’d have to be honest with him, tell him what she’d been up to the past ten or eleven days.
If he chose to renege on their deal, she wouldn’t argue. After all, she’d been the one to break their agreement. Remembering Luc’s passionate kisses with a wistful longing, she was forced to admit she’d broken the agreement more than just a time or two. Once in possession of all the facts, Dom would be within his rights to refuse to set her up in business. Well, she could live with that.
But what about Luc… ? She bit her lip. She didn’t doubt he’d find out the real reason for her disguise, discover that her motives had been less than pure. It was inevitable that Dom would tell Luc the truth. How would he react when he found out? She closed her eyes, stifling a groan. She knew how he’d react. Those gorgeous golden eyes of his would ice up. Her job as his assistant would be over. Her management-position job offer would vanish like dust in a high wind. And their affair would end before it ever began. Just as it should.
She fought back a sob, smothering the sound against her knees. Time to face facts. Because the fact was that at some point she’d fallen hopelessly, helplessly in love with Luc Salvatore. And as much as she should care about the loss of Baby Dream Toys, she cared more about losing Luc.
Sitting there on the closet floor — alone and hurting — she faced the death of all her dreams. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t prevent a scalding tear from drifting down her cheek.
Luc surreptitiously checked his watch as he escorted Dom to the door. “It’s great having you home, Dad. Thanks for dropping by.”
“It is very good to be home. I decided to return early so I could have the whole family over for Thanksgiving dinner.” He paused in the entranceway. “Would this be convenient?”
“Terrific. Just terrific.” Luc opened the door.
A young woman dressed in a business suit, with wirerimmed glasses perched on the end of her nose, stood there, poised to knock. “Oh, my goodness,” she exclaimed. “You startled me.” Recovering swiftly, she held out her hand. “Hello. I’m Miss Carstairs,” she announced. “I’m your —”
“My masseuse!” Luc greeted her loudly. Grabbing her hand, he yanked her into the apartment. “At last!”
“No! I-“
Dom chuckled. “A blonde, a brunette and now a redhead.” He wagged his finger at Luc. “I knew you were up to no good. One of these days, my boy . . . “
Luc wrapped an arm around the shocked social worker. “I never could put one over on you. Talk to you later, Dad, and welcome home.” He slammed the door closed.
Miss Carstairs wriggled from his hold, stumbling back against the door. “Oh, my,” she murmured, red-faced and breathless. She tucked a stray curl back into the tight knot on top of her head. “I am not the masseuse!”
Luc lifted an eyebrow. “You’re not?”
“No! I’m Miss Carstairs, from social services. Are you Mr. Salvatore?”
“In the flesh.Pleased to meet you.” He offered his hand.
She stared at his outstretched fingers as if they had fangs and a rattle. “I’m … I’m your case manager.” She peered up at him suspiciously. “Are you sure you’re Luc Salvatore? Mr. Luc Salvatore, whose wife is Mrs. Grace Salvatore?”
“That’s right.”
Perhaps he shouldn’t have introduced her as his masseuse, but it was the only thing he could think of at the time. If he was smart, he’d get little Miss Carstairs on her way fast — before she discovered Grace and Toni hiding in the closet. Social services would have the baby out of his apartment like a shot if that happened.
“Listen, I’m sorry but Grace and Toni aren’t in.” Dropping his hands to her shoulders, he peeled her off the door, opened it and glanced up and down the hallway. Dom was nowhere in sight. “How about coming back tomorrow?” Planting his hand in the small of her back, he propelled her into the hall.
A loud baby bellow resounded through the apartment and Miss Carstairs’s eyebrows flew up. “Your wife and Antonia are out? And what, may I ask, is that crying? It certainly sounds like a baby to me.”
Before he could stop her, she charged back into the apartment, leaving him no choice but to give chase. Following the sound of a very cranky Toni, she hustled into his bedroom and hesitated in front of the closet. Shooting him a look of disbelief, she threw open the closet door.
Luc inhaled sharply, positive he’d never seen a more appealing sight in his life. Grace sat there on the floor, Toni clutched to her breast. Wispy golden curls framed her sleep-flushed face. She blinked up at them, her light green eyes soft and drowsy. Clearly, she’d just woken up.
“You make your wife and niece live in a closet?” Miss Carstairs demanded, turning on him. “Or do you just make them sleep in there.”
“No, I don’t make my wife and niece live in a closet,” Luc stated forcefully. “Nor do they sleep there. Most days. My father … You see, Grace . . . “ He shoved his hand through his hair and sighed in exasperation. “It’s a long story.”
Miss Carstairs folded her arms across her chest and tappe
d her foot. “I have all the time in the world.” Slipping Toni back into the laundry basket, Grace crawled out of the closet. Attempting to stand proved more difficult. Her knees buckled. Luc caught her. “My legs fell asleep,” she murmured apologetically. “How long was your father here?”
“Ninety long, impossible minutes,” he replied, cradling her close until she could shake the pins and needles from her legs. He gazed down into her face and frowned. Cupping her chin, he ran his thumb across her cheekbone, a question in his eyes. “Cara? Are you all right?” he asked in a low voice.
A hint of color lit Grace’s face. Could he tell she’d been crying? Lord, she hoped not. She shifted her attention to the social worker, offering a smile and a hand. “Hi. I’m Grace … Salvatore.”
“Lillian Carstairs. May I ask if you and the baby often hide in your husband’s closet?”
“It’s the first time that I’m aware of,” Luc answered for Grace. “I can’t vouch for any other closets, however. Have you hidden in any others?”
“Only one.When I was twelve.”
“Excuse me,” Miss Carstairs interrupted. “Let’s just deal with this closet and this time. Why were you hiding in the closet?”
“So Dom — Luc’s father — wouldn’t find us,” Grace answered.
Luc released a gusty sigh. “My father doesn’t know about Toni. For that matter, he doesn’t know that Grace and I are married. We., .eloped while he was still in Italy. And until I tell him . . . “
“Your wife and niece will be kept hidden away in the closet?” the social worker suggested dryly.
“We’ll use the bathroom next time,” Grace offered. “Would that be all right?”
“Perhaps it would be best if you told him the truth,” Miss Carstairs said in no uncertain terms. “I suppose that also explains the rather … unusual greeting at the door.” A hint of amusement lightened Luc’s expression. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to introduce you to my father. He’d already assumed the worst as far as your presence was concerned, and I just went along with it. I apologize, if I offended you.”
Color spotted Miss Carstairs’s cheeks and Grace could tell that the infamous Salvatore charm was working its magic once more. “This is all highly irregular,” the young woman muttered.
“How about if we start over,” Luc suggested. “Come on into the kitchen and have a cup of coffee, and then we’ll show you around and answer any questions you might have. Coffee, Grace?”
“Sounds great,” she agreed.
“And a bottle for Toni, I think.”
Grace pulled the basket from the closet and picked up Toni. Once again Luc would talk his way out of a sticky situation. How she wished she had his gift. It would certainly come in handy over the next few days.
She closed her eyes and buried her face against Toni’s neck. Matters were becoming much too complicated. How much longer could she keep doing this — living a lie? Perhaps she’d better confess her subterfuge to Luc once Miss Carstairs left. She’d be as frank with him as she intended to be with Dom. But if she did, how would Luc react? Would he understand why she’d chosen to deceive him? Somehow, she suspected he wouldn’t. At the very least, it would change their relationship, and she didn’t think she was ready for that.
“Grace?” Luc called to her. “Are you coming?”
She lifted her head and took a deep breath. Maybe she’d have a hot cup of coffee and think about it for a while. There was no rush, right? She’d get a good night’s sleep and reconsider her options tomorrow.
Though, somehow, she suspected matters wouldn’t be any more clear-cut come morning.
CHAPTER NINE
The Great Lie
Day 346 and Grace’s situation can’t get any darker … or can it … ?
As she suspected, having a night to sleep on her problems brought Grace no nearer a solution. If anything, she awoke more confused than ever. She had several choices, none quite what she wanted. She buried her head in the pillow with a groan. Should she tell Luc about her deal with Dom? Should she accept his very tempting offer of a promotion, if she was unable to open Baby Dream Toys? Most important of all, should she agree to a temporary relationship and suffer the resulting consequences.
She didn’t know. She just didn’t know. What she wanted was Luc. But Luc didn’t want her, at least not on a permanent basis. And facing that fact nearly ripped her apart.
Crawling out of bed to a brilliant, sunny morning, she discovered Luc already up and dressed in a business suit and tie.
“You’re not going into the office, are you?” she asked, dismayed. She’d hoped to spend time with him — precious, fleeting time.
“I’m afraid so. Dad said he’d meet me there. I assume he’d like an update on our various business activities.
And since the only other option is to have him come here . . . “ He let the suggestion hang.
“No, that wouldn’t work, would it,” she agreed. “What about Pietro and Carina?”
“I still expect them tomorrow for Thanksgiving. If they weren’t going to make it, Pietro would have phoned. Will you stay here with Toni? If Dad asks, I’ll say you’re out sick.”
“More lies,” she murmured, disheartened.
He frowned, then approached and pulled her into his arms. “I know this is difficult for you. But we can straighten everything out when Pietro returns. How about once this is over, we confess our various sins? You and I will have a frank talk and put all our cards on the table.”
She smiled. “I’d like that. And you’re right, of course. I have a sin or two of my own to confess.”
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” He dropped a kiss on her mouth. Then, as if unable to resist, he kissed her again, more deeply, with an underlying urgency. “Grace … I know I’m breaking our agreement, but I can’t help it. I want you.”
She nestled into his embrace, and suddenly everything crystallized in her mind. Through the long, endless night, she’d struggled to make a decision. To decide whether she’d fight for Luc’s love or do the safe thing and walk away. But now, in the cold light of day, she knew what her answer would be. In that instant, held in his arms, all her doubts vanished.
For the first time since their escapade began, she was certain in both heart and mind. Once they’d settled their problems with Toni, she’d tell Luc the truth. Every bit of it. Then, it would be up to him how they proceeded. She knew he wasn’t interested in a permanent relationship, and though it meant future heartache, she’d take the tiny slice of heaven he offered. Because she knew, deep in her heart, that she’d never love anyone as much as she loved Luc.
“I want you, too,” she admitted. And though she wished she could tell him of her love, that she could coax similar words from him, she was willing to give it time. Maybe even a lifetime.
His eyes darkened. “Say that again.”
“I want you,” she repeated. “Very, very badly.”
“You sure that isn’t frustration speaking?” he asked, skepticism clear in his voice. “What about when Toni’s out of our life and you’ve had time to reconsider? What will you say then?”
“The same.”
She’d surprised him, and he studied her expression intently. “You’re sure?”
“I’m positive,” she said, and he couldn’t mistake her sincerity.
“Just so you know, your timing really stinks,” he told her with a short, impatient laugh. Pulling her more fully into his arms, he kissed her again, the embrace passionate and thorough. ‘
‘As much as I want to carry you back to bed, I have to leave.”
“Will you be gone all day?” she asked wistfully. “Can you break off early?”
“I hope so. I’ll see if I can’t return for lunch.” And with a final kiss, he left.
She secured the door behind him and leaned her forehead against the cool wooden surface. Another day or two and her subterfuge would end. Pietro would return, Toni would be back with her parents, and she and Luc would clear up all t
he lies and deceptions between them. She could hang on for that long, couldn’t she? Not that she had a choice. Straightening, she tightened the sash on her robe and padded toward the guest bedroom. Toni lay in her crib, watching the mobile spin lazily above her.
“Good morning,” Grace said with a smile. “You’re certainly in a happy mood this morning. Ready for breakfast? Or should we have our bath first.” Toni kicked her feet and let out a shrill gurgle. “Breakfast, it is.”
Lifting the baby out of the crib, Grace headed for the kitchen, when a peremptory knock sounded at the door. Later, she realized she should have peered through the spy hole first. But at the time, she didn’t think twice. She opened the door.
Dom Salvatore stood there.
He looked at her, took a stumbling step backward, double-checked the number on the door and then looked at her once more. Slowly his gaze took in her sleepruffled hair — her sleep-ruffled blond hair, her bathrobecovered nightie, and finally the baby Grace held clutched in her arms. His face crumpled.
“You are not wearing your glasses,” he blurted.
“No,” she confessed. “I’m not.”
“And your hair . . . “
“I know. It’s blond again.” She touched the tangled curls self-consciously, then stepped back. “Why don’t you come in.”
He looked appalled, and for an instant she thought he’d burst into tears. Then he slowly followed her into the apartment. “All my plans … ruined,” he moaned.
“It’s not so bad,” she attempted to reassure him, wondering desperately which story to tell. Did she mention Pietro and Carina? Did she claim Toni as her own? Lord, how she wished Luc was here to help.
Dom shook his head, muttering in Italian. Finally, he implored, “How could this happen?”
Oh, Lord. How should she answer? She had to pick a story and fast, and salvage what she could of this mess. She bit down on her lip, forced to face facts with a vengeance. It was too late to save herself, but … She straightened her shoulders. She could still help Pietro and Carina.