Bound by Their Scandalous Baby

by Heidi Rice

  ‘Lukas?’ she said again as she held the boy’s shoulders. ‘Is something the matter?’

  They were both looking at him expectantly, the boy’s eyes widening with a vivid combination of childish curiosity and fascination. He locked the yearning back inside. Humiliated.

  ‘Of course not,’ he snapped, because for the first time in a very long time he didn’t feel okay—he felt broken again.

  The boy flinched and jerked further away from him into Bronte’s arms—all the childish excitement of moments before extinguished in a heartbeat.

  Lukas winced, hearing the cruel echo of his father’s voice in his own. And regret crushed his chest. He’d messed up. He let his hand drop and glanced at Bronte, unsure of what to do next.

  He had no experience with children whatsoever. And he’d obviously frightened the boy. He wanted to make it right.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, keeping his voice soft, and for the first time in a long time letting his uncertainty show. ‘What should I do?’

  * * *

  ‘Nico, it’s okay. Lukas didn’t mean to scare you.’ Bronte ran her hand over Nico’s hair and kept her voice light, even though her heart was pounding so hard she could hardly breathe.

  Lukas had looked stricken when Nico had embraced him. She’d realised in that moment, his reluctance to come here, to visit Nico, wasn’t about selfishness, or convenience, or a lack of emotion on his part. It might well be the opposite.

  She shook off the dangerous thought.

  Don’t think about that now.

  She knew Lukas’s barked remark had startled Nico, but she doubted there was any permanent damage. Nico was just tired and way too overexcited, never a great combination for an active four-year-old. But now she had to convince Lukas he hadn’t done something monstrous by being a little short with his nephew.

  Kneeling down, Bronte gave Nico an easy hug and tapped her finger on his nose, pushing a lightness she didn’t feel into her tone. ‘You know what, Nikky,’ she continued. ‘Lukas said he was sorry to you, so I think maybe you should say sorry to him.’

  ‘Why?’ Nico said with the bluntness of all four-year-olds.

  ‘That’s really not necessary,’ Lukas said at the same time, his frown making Bronte’s heart pound even harder.

  She knew she needed to be careful not to read too much into his eagerness to make amends. But there was something so endearing about seeing Lukas stick up for the little boy who was a childlike image of himself—especially as she suspected he very rarely, if ever, had to second-guess himself, or apologise to anyone.

  Bronte cleared her throat, determined to unblock the emotion lodged there. ‘You want Lukas to play with you, don’t you?’ Bronte said, addressing Nico.

  Nico considered the question and she could feel the tension in Lukas as he waited for the boy’s answer. Nico nodded.

  She swallowed to release the blockage. ‘Then you need to say hello properly, and ask him nicely,’ she said. ‘Running up and shouting at him probably scared him a little too.’

  Nico stared at Lukas. ‘I’m sorry I scared you. I didn’t mean to.’

  Lukas’s lips twitched; he was clearly seeing the absurdity of the situation. ‘That’s really okay. I’m good now,’ he said gravely, and she had to stem the insane urge to hug this taciturn man for treating Nico’s apology with the gravity it deserved. However absurd.

  ‘Do you want to come play with my Lego?’ Nico said, getting more animated, his caution disappearing as quickly as it had come.

  ‘Sure.’

  Before Lukas had a chance to say more, Nico had gripped his hand and was tugging him across the room towards the house he was currently making for Dora the Explorer.

  Bronte’s heartbeat stuttered and stumbled as she watched Lukas fold his long frame into the child-sized chair next to Nico’s. The furniture creaked under his weight as he spread his legs out under the table in a futile bid to get comfortable. He bent his head next to his nephew’s and the two of them began sorting through the colourful plastic bricks together, Nico chatting away about Dora and Lukas nodding and clearly struggling to keep up with the flow of information. She swallowed furiously, then noticed the way Lukas’s black cashmere sweater tightened around his broad shoulders as he leant forward to grab a particular brick. The familiar heat surged.

  Stop it.

  She tore her eyes away from him.

  She’d wanted Lukas to bond with Nico, but she did not need to bond with him too. The hot, focused look he’d given her before Nico had barrelled into him had been enough to prove to her she needed to keep her distance today.

  * * *

  ‘Can you come see me tomorrow?’ Nico stretched his arms above his head and opened his mouth in a yawn so big it was a wonder he didn’t dislocate his jaw.

  ‘I can’t,’ Lukas said, but Bronte couldn’t help noticing his look of dismay when Nico’s face fell comically. ‘I have business in the Maldives for a few weeks.’

  ‘Where’s the Maldives?’ the little boy asked.

  ‘It’s in the Indian Ocean.’

  ‘Can I come with you?’

  ‘Um...’ Lukas stalled again, clearly not knowing what to say, and Bronte felt her heart stutter again, as it had been doing all morning.

  Lukas had surprised her. He’d been patient and approachable and attentive in the past two hours with the little boy, fielding endless questions, listening to Nico’s rambling conversation on everything from his nursery school teacher to his favourite TV shows, while diligently building a veritable Lego conurbation for Dora the Explorer and all her friends. But as she watched Lukas struggle to answer this latest question, clearly weighing up what to say, Bronte suspected the person Lukas had surprised most was himself.

  Despite his reluctance to come here, and what she now suspected was his initial moment of panic when Nico had greeted him so enthusiastically, Lukas had bonded this morning with his brother’s son—and comprehensively lost the battle he had been waging up to now not to engage with Nico. Making her all the more curious about why Lukas had been so determined not to make that connection.

  ‘Stop badgering your uncle, munchkin,’ she said, taking pity on Lukas. She leant over Nico from the other side of the bed and lifted the covers to tuck them securely around him.

  ‘Aw but...’ Nico began.

  ‘Not another word.’ She tapped his nose with her fingertip. ‘You need to go to sleep.’

  ‘But I’m not even tired,’ the boy said around another huge yawn. ‘And I don’t want Uncle Lukas to go away. Because then I’ll never see him again.’

  The pang hit Bronte squarely in the chest—the yearning in Nico’s voice echoing thoughts and feelings of her own that she knew she couldn’t afford to acknowledge.

  ‘I’ll come back to visit when I return,’ Lukas offered and Bronte felt her heart thud in her throat, her emotions in turmoil again. She wanted to encourage Lukas’s involvement with Nico, especially as she could already see how beneficial this connection could be, not just for Nico but for Lukas too. But by sleeping with him last night, she had complicated the situation immeasurably.

  Her awareness of him all morning had only added to her turmoil. Watching him interact with Nico with such surprising tenderness and sensitivity had only made the desire rippling over her skin every time she felt his gaze on her—watching and assessing—that much more acute. How was she supposed to resist this yearning, to keep the barriers in place she’d been struggling to erect all morning, if she began to like him, as well as desire him?

  ‘Do you promise?’ the little boy said, the excited tone making the pang in Bronte’s chest sharpen.

  ‘You have my word,’ Lukas said, the solemn tone making it clear his word was something he didn’t give lightly, and would never break.

  Nico’s eyes widened with a look that could only be described as awes
truck.

  ‘Now do what your aunt tells you, and go to sleep,’ Lukas added. He levered himself off the bed, but then reached out to ruffle the boy’s hair in an impromptu gesture which seemed to surprise him as much as Nico.

  The light, fleeting touch was like a magic wand.

  ‘Yes, Uncle Lukas,’ Nico mumbled, his eyelids drooping before he rolled over in the bed and dropped into sleep, obeying the command without question.

  Lukas’s dark gaze connected with hers from across the bed as she stood too. The heat between them—that had been simmering beneath the surface all through the morning—flared to life. And the memory of another promise—to talk to Lukas privately before he met Nico today—screamed across the distance between them.

  Flustered and far too aware of all the reasons why she did not want to risk having that conversation now, when her emotions were even more volatile than they had been last night, Bronte shot towards the door.

  ‘I’ll see you out,’ she said. ‘Maureen said your driver is waiting to take you to the airport.’

  He had a flight to catch. They didn’t have time to talk about anything. She was safe for today. Nico and his boundless energy and excitement at meeting Lukas properly for the first time had saved her, as she knew it would. She stifled the prickle of guilt. This visit was always supposed to be about Nico’s relationship with Lukas, not hers. Not that she even had a relationship with him. Not one she intended to pursue anyway.

  But as she darted ahead of Lukas, strong fingers snagged her wrist—and drew her to a sudden halt.

  ‘Not so fast. Aren’t you forgetting something?’ The tone was curt.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said, tugging on her wrist.

  Ignoring her struggle, he dragged her into a room across the hall.

  Shutting the door behind them, he spun her round. Her back butted against the door. Placing his hands above her head, he caged her in and a familiar surge of heat soared up her torso to ignite her cheeks and send her senses into turmoil—right alongside her emotions.

  ‘Lukas! You don’t have time for this,’ she said, trying for exasperated but getting breathless instead.

  His brows slammed down in a furious frown. ‘You little... You planned this deliberately, didn’t you?’ he growled, his juniper and pine scent surrounding her now—rich and evocative and far too enticing.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said, attempting to duck out from under his arm, frantic to escape before the heavy weight in her sex, the sharp tug of arousal overrode her flight instinct again.

  ‘The hell you don’t...’ he said, planting large palms on her hips and holding her firmly in place. ‘You knew I wanted to talk to you this morning about us. You used the boy as a shield. Admit it.’

  She flattened her hands against his chest. The muscles rippled with tension beneath the soft cashmere but, instead of pushing him away as she should, her body shuddered with yearning.

  ‘There is no us.’ She forced herself to meet his gaze. ‘The only connection we have is through Nico,’ she added, wanting to mean it, wanting to believe it. ‘He’s the only thing that matters now. And you were so brilliant with him today.’

  His brows lifted and she pounced on the opportunity to distract him, and herself. And resist the yearning that was threatening to consume her again.

  ‘I don’t want to do anything to threaten your relationship with him.’ At least that wasn’t a lie.

  Pursuing a relationship with Lukas, any kind of relationship, wouldn’t just be dangerous on an emotional level when it ended—which of course it would—it could complicate his relationship with Nico, which would be so much worse.

  Nico needed this man in his life and she suspected that, despite all his protestations to the contrary, Lukas was just beginning to discover how much he needed Nico too. Even if she had been bold enough, and secure enough, to risk an affair with Lukas, she would never forgive herself if something she did threatened the bond he was just beginning to form with his nephew.

  ‘That’s bull and you know it,’ he said, slicing off her argument at the knees. ‘One thing has nothing to do with the other.’

  ‘Of course it does,’ she said, finally locating the indignation she’d been searching for at his dismissive reply. ‘I want to nurture and support your relationship with him,’ she added. ‘And I can’t do that if we’re involved.’

  ‘Why not?’ he asked, not looking conflicted in the slightest.

  ‘Because I live here, with him.’

  ‘So what?’

  ‘I don’t want him to know that there’s...’ She stammered to a halt, his blank expression unnerving her even more. ‘That there’s something going on between us. He might think you’re coming here to see me instead of him.’

  ‘He’s four,’ he said flatly.

  ‘Nico’s very smart and intuitive,’ she said, feeling as if she were under siege.

  ‘I know that,’ he said. ‘He’s also confident and well-adjusted. And he seems to have a pretty healthy ego. So there’s no reason on earth why he should question my motives for coming to see him. But anyway, Nico’s reaction is irrelevant. Because he’s not going to find out that we’re sleeping together.’

  ‘How could he not?’ she said.

  ‘Because I’m buying a place for you where we can meet a couple of evenings a week,’ he said, shocking her into silence. ‘I’m already paying Maureen a hefty salary so we might as well get her to earn it.’

  ‘Whoa! Wait.’ She reared back, his astonishing arrogance appalling her, and giving her the power to resist the heat sizzling over her skin. ‘I haven’t agreed to any of this,’ she said. ‘I don’t want you to buy me a place. And I don’t want to become your...’ She searched frantically for the correct word. ‘Your... Your mistress.’

  The term sounded antiquated, but it bolstered her temper and gave her the ammunition she needed in the battle with her feelings towards him.

  Maybe Lukas had secrets about why he had been so desperate not to bond with Nico, but he was still an arrogant, entitled... How dare he expect her to prioritise a sexual relationship with him over Nico’s needs?

  ‘Nico needs me. I won’t be your kept woman, and I don’t want to be.’

  * * *

  Lukas was so annoyed he could hardly see straight, let alone think, because he’d been balancing on a knife-edge of desire for several hours now. Every time their eyes connected, every time he noticed that spark of approval, the glow of warmth in her expression, it had made the flash fire of his temper more intense.

  ‘I’m already paying for everything,’ he barked, the words spewing out on a wave of frustration. ‘What the heck difference does it make if we both get some fun out of the deal?’

  The second the words left his lips he wanted to grab them back, because the defiance in her eyes turned to shocked outrage.

  ‘You bastard.’ Tears misted her eyes but refused to fall. ‘I’m not for sale. I accepted your financial help for Nico’s sake. But I don’t need it. He doesn’t need it. We were surviving perfectly well on our own. If the price of staying here is sleeping with you, we’ll leave.’

  Damn it. That was not what he had meant at all.

  What they’d shared last night had nothing whatsoever to do with his responsibilities towards the boy—and her. But the threat to leave was like pouring accelerant on an already smouldering fire.

  He’d sworn to keep the boy safe, to protect him. He was not about to let her take him—or herself—anywhere.

  ‘You attempt to move Nico out of here and I’ll haul you up in court quicker than you can say child custody battle.’

  ‘You can’t take him away from me—I’m his guardian,’ she said, but all he could see was the dark dilated pupils, the passion she was continuing to deny, the ragged rise and fall of those full breasts—and all he could think about was the way s
he’d messed him around today, using the boy as a shield.

  ‘Try me,’ he said.

  ‘I hate you,’ she declared.

  ‘No, you don’t.’ Suddenly, the need he’d always kept on lockdown, had always been able to qualify and control, broke through like a dam bursting its banks.

  He hauled her into his arms.

  To hell with this. He was through pretending that last night hadn’t been good, hadn’t been glorious. Or that it wasn’t going to happen again.

  He pressed his lips to the pulse in her neck, felt it flutter beneath his tongue. She jerked in his arms but didn’t draw back, her palms flattening on his waist, her fingers fisting in his sweater as he worked his way to her mouth.

  Her lips parted on a shattered gasp and he sank into the kiss, his tongue thrusting deep. He explored, feeding the swell of emotion in his chest and feasting on the hunger between them. The hunger which had been unleashed last night but which he’d seen so clearly in her eyes every time she’d looked at him today. His fingers tangled in her hair, angling her head back as he felt the shudder of a response she couldn’t control. The hunger intensified as she kissed him back, her tongue dancing with his in an elemental rhythm.

  He tore his mouth away first, her body limp and pliant in his arms.

  Her cheeks were blazing, her full lips were reddened from the fury of the kiss—but as the desire cleared, her eyes became pools of shock and anguish.

  He released her and she stumbled back. He should have been satisfied, her instinctive response a vindication. But instead he felt unsteady on his feet and shocked right down to his core at what he had done.

  What the heck had just happened?

  He’d never kissed a woman in anger before. Never allowed his need to show. And never been so affected by her response.

  ‘I’m going to be away for two weeks. When I come back we are going to discuss this again. Like adults.’ He ground the words out, trying to regain control, not just of her and this situation but of himself.

  He wasn’t an animal. And he never let his temper get the better of him, but somehow he had with her.