He held out his arm, and she put her hand on it, her palm damp. “I care about him, Leo…a lot.”
“I know you do…which is the only reason I’m here. But God help me, Hattie…if you hurt him again, I’ll make you pay.”
Not exactly auspicious words to start a new life.
Leo escorted her to the corner of the house, just out of sight of the water’s edge where the ceremony would take place. He bent and kissed her cheek, then stepped back. Perhaps he saw the sheer panic in her eyes, because he smiled again, a real smile this time. “Break a leg, princess.” And then he was gone.
Hattie’s cue was to be the opening notes of "Pachelbel’s Canon.” A sturdy boardwalk led from the porch of the house out over a small dune to the temporary platform and the wooden latticed archway where she and Luc would stand.
The music started. She clenched her fists and then deliberately relaxed them. One huge breath. Several small prayers. One foot in front of the other.
Afterward, she could not remember the exact details of her solitary journey to the altar. In keeping with the unorthodox nature of the marriage and the ceremony, she had decided to walk to Luc on her own. This was her decision, her gamble.
When she first caught sight of the groom, her breath lodged in her throat and she stumbled slightly. Though there were three other people framed against the vibrant blue-green of the ocean, she only had eyes for Luc. He was wearing a black tux…a formal morning coat and tails over a crisp white shirt and a gray vest.
His gaze locked on hers and stayed there as she traversed the final fifty feet. As she stepped beneath the arch and took her place by his side, she saw something hot and predatory flash in his dark eyes before he turned to face the justice of the peace.
Without looking at Hattie again, Luc reached out and took her right hand, squeezing it tightly. The officiant smiled at both of them. “We are gathered here today to witness the union of Luc Cavallo and Hattie Parker. Marriage is a…”
Hattie tried to listen…she really did. But her thoughts scattered in a million directions. Too many stimuli. The feel of Luc’s hard, warm fingers twined with hers. The familiar tang of his aftershave, mingling with the scent of her bouquet. The muted roar of the nearby surf as waves tumbled onto shore.
If she had the power, she would freeze this moment. To take out later in the quiet of her bedroom and savor everything she missed the first time around.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the giant live oaks that cast shade and respite on this hot, windy day. Sherman and Patti stood guard over the stroller, which was draped in mosquito netting. Apparently, Deedee had decided to cooperate and sleep through it all.
Closer to hand, Ana smiled, her cheeks damp. She was wearing a moss-green designer suit that flattered her stocky frame and shaved ten years off her age. Hattie had no doubt that Luc had financed the expensive wedding finery.
For a split second Hattie caught Leo’s eye. The resemblance between the two brothers was striking, but where Luc was classically handsome, quieter and more reserved, Leo was larger than life. He winked at her deliberately, and she blushed, turning her attention back to the words that would make her Luc’s wife.
“May I have the rings?”
Ana commandeered the bouquet, Hattie and Leo complied, and moments later, Hattie slid a plain gold band onto Luc’s left hand. He returned the favor, placing a narrow circlet of platinum beside the beautiful engagement ring to which Hattie had yet to grow accustomed.
More words, a pronouncement and then the moment she had unconsciously been waiting for. “You may kiss the bride.”
In unison, she and Luc turned. The breeze ruffled his hair. His expression was solemn, though his eyes danced. He took Hattie’s hands in his. Time stood still.
Ten years…ten long years since she had been free to kiss him whenever she wanted.
He bent his head. His mouth brushed hers, lingered, pressed more insistently. His tongue coaxed. His arms tightened around her as her skirt tangled capriciously with his pant legs.
Her heart lodged in her throat, tears stung her eyes, and she moved her mouth against his.
Aeons later it seemed, a chorus of unison laughter broke them apart. Luc appeared as dazed as Hattie felt.
Suddenly, hugs and congratulations separated them, but every moment, Luc’s eyes followed her.
They led their small parade back to the house. Hattie had only seen one of the bedrooms, but now they all entered the great room on the opposite side of the building. The ambience was rustic but elegant. Exposed beams of warmly-hued wood were strung with tiny white lights. Dozens of blush-pink roses in crystal vases decorated every available surface.
A single table covered in pale pink linen was set with exquisite china, crystal and silver. When they were all seated, with Luc and Hattie at the head, Leo stood up.
As a waiter deftly poured champagne for everyone, Leo raised his glass. “Luc here, my baby brother, is and will always be my best friend. When Mom and Dad drowned, out on that damned boat they loved so much, Luc and I were shipped off to Italy to live for three years with a grandfather we barely knew. The language was strange, we were a mess, but we had each other.”
He paused, and Hattie saw the muscles in his throat work with emotion. He moved to stand between and behind the bride and groom, laying a hand on each of their shoulders. “To Luc and his beautiful bride. May they always be as happy as they are today.”
Applause and cheers filled the room, and moments later, the unobtrusive waitstaff began serving lunch.
Hattie knew the food was delicious. And wine flowed like water. But she couldn’t taste any of it.
She was married to Luc. For some undefined period of time in order to protect the baby she had grown to love. But at what price?
When Luc put his arm around her bare shoulders, her heartbeat wobbled and sped up. He leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Are you doing okay, Mrs. Cavallo?” Gently, he tucked a wayward wisp of her hair into place.
She nodded mutely.
Luc laughed beneath his breath. “It might help if you quit looking like a scared rabbit.”
She shrugged helplessly. “I’m in over my head,” she admitted quietly. “What have we done, Luc?”
He stroked her back as he answered a cheerful question from across the table. “Forget reality,” he murmured. “Pretend we’re on Fantasy Island. Maybe this is all a dream.”
Beneath the table, his hand played with hers.
The silly, childish game restored her equilibrium. Moments later their intimate circle was broken as Deedee demanded, in a loud string of nonsense syllables, to be recognized.
Luc chuckled as he stood to take the baby from Sherman and handed her to Hattie. Immediately, Deedee reached for the tiara. She yanked on it before Luc could stop her, and soon Hattie’s hair was askew.
Amidst shrieks of infant temper, the tiara was rescued, the baby given one of her toys and the two at the head table became three. Luc tickled one chubby thigh, making Deedee chortle with laughter. He growled at her playfully and reached to take her in his arms.
Deedee’s eyes went wide. She clung to Hattie’s neck, burying her little face. And in a soft, childish, unmistakably clear voice, she said, “Mama.”
Eight
Luc had known Hattie for a very long time. And he saw the mix of feelings that showed so clearly on her face. Shock. Fierce pride. Joy. Sorrow. Almost too much for one woman to bear, particularly on a day already filled with strong emotion.
He stood and addressed the small group. “Hattie and I are going to slip away for a few moments to spend some time with Deedee before we have to say goodbye. We’ll cut the cake when we return. In the meantime, please relax and enjoy the rest of your meal.”
He coaxed Hattie out of her seat, witnessing the way she held the baby so tightly to her chest. A crisis was brewing.
In the bedroom where Hattie had changed clothes, his brand-new bride faced him mutinously. “I can’t leave her
. It’s cruel. We’ll have to change our plans.”
At that moment, Deedee spotted a carry-all stuffed with her favorite toys on the floor in a corner. She wiggled and squirmed and insisted on being put down. Hattie did so with patent reluctance.
Luc tugged Hattie toward the bed and sat her down. “Deedee will be fine. You know it in your heart. Aside from the fact that we need to make our marriage look absolutely real, you need a break, Hattie. Badly. This past year has been one crisis after another. You desperately need to rest and recharge your batteries.”
Hattie looked up at him, her lips trembling, her big, brown eyes suspiciously shiny. “She called me Mama.”
“She certainly did.” Luc smoothed her hair where the baby had disheveled it. “And that’s what you are.”
Hattie bit her lip, not seeming to notice that he was touching her. “I feel guilty,” she whispered.
“Why on earth would you say that?”
“I’m happy that Deedee is growing closer to me. I know that’s a good thing in the long run. But does that make me disloyal to Angela? How can I be so thrilled that the baby called me Mama when she won’t even remember Angela, her real mother…”
Luc struggled for wisdom, though he didn’t have a good track record when it came to Hattie. “As Deedee grows older you’ll show her pictures of your sister…. And later still, you’ll explain what happened, when the time is right. Angela will live in your heart, and by your actions, in Deedee’s.”
“And what about Eddie? What do I tell her about him?”
Luc ground his teeth, unused to feeling helpless in any situation. Did he want to replace Eddie as the baby’s father? The temptation was there—he felt it. But he had no desire to be a family man, and Hattie had made it painfully clear that his help was only needed on a temporary basis.
He tried to swallow his frustration. “None of us knows how that situation will work out, but I doubt seriously if Eddie has any interest in being a father. That truth will be hurtful when she’s old enough to understand it. But if you’ve filled her life with love and happiness, Deedee will get through it.”
“I hope so,” she said softly, her gaze pensive.
He reached out with one hand and touched her bare shoulder, resisting the urge to stroke the satiny skin. “You look beautiful today.” The words felt like razor blades in his throat.
Finally, he regained her attention.
A pale pink blush stained her cheeks, and she lowered her head. Her long eyelashes hid her thoughts. “Thank you. I thought this was a better choice than a traditional wedding dress.”
Something in her voice made him frown. “Do you regret missing out on a church wedding?”
She shrugged. “I thought I would. It’s what many women dream about. But today was…”
“Was what?” he prompted.
She touched his hand briefly, not linking their fingers…more of a butterfly brush. “It was…meaningful.”
Her answer disappointed him. He’d hoped for more enthusiasm, more feminine effusiveness. But it hadn’t escaped his notice that she’d been careful with the wording of the ceremony. He’d left that portion of the day in her capable hands. The printed order of service she’d handed over on the plane had notably omitted any reference to “till death do us part” or even the more modern “as long as we both shall live.”
He turned his attention toward the baby, trying not to notice the way Hattie’s rounded breasts filled the bodice of her gown. She hadn’t worn the pearl necklace today, and the omission hurt him, though he’d chew glass before he’d admit it. The only reason he cared was because it was an outward symbol of the fact that she belonged to him. She relied on him. She needed him. No other reason.
He bent and picked up Deedee. “We’d better get back to our guests. They’ll be waiting for cake.”
Though the day and the room were plenty warm, Luc realized that Hattie’s fingers were cold when he put his hand over hers and pressed down firmly with the knife. Hattie had insisted, in private, that having a photographer document their faux wedding was unnecessary. So at the official cake cutting, only Sherman’s digital camera was available to record the moment.
Hattie’s smile toward Luc was apologetic as she picked up a small square and pressed it into his mouth. He wasn’t sure which he wanted to eat more: the almond-flavored dessert, or her slender, frosting-covered fingertips.
He returned the favor, being careful not to mess up Hattie’s makeup or dress. He fed her a tiny piece of cake and then deliberately lifted her hand and licked each of her fingers clean. The guests and servers signaled their approval with a cheer, and Hattie’s red-faced embarrassment was worth every penny Luc had spent to make his bride’s day special.
Ana stepped forward with a smile. “Shall I help you change clothes, Mrs. Cavallo?”
Luc put an arm around Hattie’s waist, drawing her closer. He kissed her cheek. “I think we can handle that,” he said, his voice low and suggestive.
Once in the bedroom, an irate Hattie rounded on him. “What was that show about? Ana and Sherman know the truth. You embarrassed me.”
He shrugged, his hands in his pockets to keep from stripping the deliberately tantalizing dress from her in short order. “The waitstaff and the drivers are outsiders. They may talk, and if they do…I want them to believe that you and I are so much in love we can’t keep our hands off each other. Any gossip will help us, not hurt us if they think we’re a normal bride and groom.”
Hattie stood in the middle of the room, her expression troubled.
He lost his temper. “Oh, for God’s sake. I’m not going to jump you when your back is turned. Take off that damned dress and put some clothes on.”
She blanched. He felt like a heel. Sexual frustration was riding him hard, and he wondered with bleak mirth what in hell had possessed him to insist on a honeymoon. If his brand-new bride didn’t soon admit she wanted him the way he wanted her, he’d be a raving, slobbering lunatic by the time they got back home.
But he couldn’t let her think he was affected by the day and the ceremony. The softer, gentler Luc she had known back in college was a phantom. The real Luc was cynical to a fault. What he was feeling was lust, pure and simple. Hattie would be in his bed. Soon. But he wouldn’t be weak. Never again. He had his emotions on lockdown.
He turned his back on her and looked out the window blindly, the ocean nothing but a blur. All of his senses were attuned to Hattie’s movements. Even when he heard the bathroom door shut, he remained where he was. It was impossible not to imagine her nudity as she stepped out of her bridal attire.
His hands were clammy, and his gut churned.
The bathroom door opened again, and he sighed inwardly. But still he didn’t turn around. It was only when Hattie appeared at his elbow that he finally spoke. “Are you ready to go?”
He turned and inhaled sharply. The tiara was gone, her hair was down, but she was still dressed.
She raised a shoulder, her face rueful. “I’m sorry. I can’t unzip it. Will you help me?”
God in heaven. She turned her back to him with innocent trust. His hands shook. Inch by inch, as he lowered the zipper, the dress gaped, revealing a sexy piece of fantasy-fueling lingerie. He cleared his throat. “Do you…uh…”
Hattie nodded. “Yeah. The bustier, too.”
A million tiny buttons held the confection in place. God knows how long it took him, but he finally succeeded in revealing the pale skin and delicate spine he remembered with such painful clarity. He also remembered running his tongue down that very spine, not stopping until he reached the curve of her ass. And sometimes not even then.
The exercise in torture lasted for what seemed like hours rather than minutes. At last he was finished.
Hattie held the dress to her front with a death grip.
He made himself step back. “All done,” he croaked.
She nodded jerkily and scooted toward safety. But just as she reached the bathroom, her toe caught on a sc
atter rug, she stumbled, and Luc grabbed for her instinctively. His arms went around her from behind and his hands landed in dangerous territory.
Lush, soft breasts. Pert nipples begging to be stroked. He sucked in a breath, sucker punched by the slug of hunger. Hattie froze on the spot like an animal hoping not to be noticed by a hunter.
He nuzzled the nape of her neck. “Your skin is so soft,” he muttered. He squeezed gently, cupping the mounds of flesh that he remembered in his dreams.
Her head fell back against his shoulder. “Luc…”
That was all. Just his name. But the single word fraught with what he hoped like hell was longing made him hard as stone and ready for action. He tugged the dress and undergarment from her deathlike grasp and tossed them aside. He couldn’t see her face, and he didn’t want to.
He continued to play with her breasts slowly. “Tell me you want me, Hattie.”
“I want you, Luc…but…”
The last word made him frown. He slid one hand down her belly, between her legs. Hattie gasped audibly.
He bit gently at her earlobe. “But?”
“I don’t think we’re ready.” Her whispered protest barely registered on his consciousness.
He pressed his aching erection against her, her beautiful round butt covered in less than nothing. “Oh, I’m ready, Hattie. Trust me.”
The choked laugh she managed made him smile.
At that precise moment, when he felt paradise within his grasp, a loud shout of nearby laughter shattered the moment. They weren’t alone. And they had guests waiting.
He cursed in frustration and released her abruptly, wanting to howl at the moon. His timing sucked. “Damn it…. I’m sorry.”
Hattie didn’t even turn around. He suspected her face was one huge blush. He reached for the discarded clothing and handed it to her. “Go,” he said curtly. “We’ll deal with this later.”
The Billionaire's Borrowed Baby Page 7