Читать книгу The Billionaire's Borrowed Baby - Джанис Мейнард, Janice Maynard - Страница 8

What did one wear to a marriage proposal? While the baby was napping, Hattie rummaged through the tiny closet in her matching tiny apartment, knowing that she was not going to find a dress to wow Luc Cavallo. The only garment remotely suitable was a black, polished cotton sheath that she had worn to each of her parent’s funerals. Perhaps with some accessories it would do the trick.

In a jewelry box she’d had since she was a girl, her hand hovered over the one piece inside that wasn’t an inexpensive bauble. The delicate platinum chain was still as bright as the day Luc had given it to her. She picked it up and fastened it around her neck, adjusting the single pearl flanked by small diamonds.

Though there had been many days when the wolf was at the door, she had not been able to bring herself to sell this one lovely reminder of what might have been. She stroked the pearl, imagining that it was warm beneath her fingers….

They had skipped their afternoon classes at Emory and escaped to Piedmont Park with a blanket and a picnic basket. She was a scholarship student … his family had endowed the Fine Arts Center.

As they sprawled in the hot spring sunshine, feeling alive and free and deliciously truant, Luc leaned over her on one elbow, kissing her with teasing brushes of his lips that made her restless for more. He grinned down at her, his eyes alight with happiness. “I have an anniversary present for you.”

“Anniversary?” They’d been dating for a while, but she hadn’t kept track.

He caressed her cheek. “I met you six months ago today. You were buying a miniature pumpkin at Stanger’s Market. I offered to carve it for you. You laughed. And that’s when I knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That you were the one.”

Her smile faded. “College guys are supposed to be counting notches on their bedposts, not spouting romantic nonsense.”

A shadow dimmed the good humor in his gaze. “I come from a long line of Italians. Romance is in our blood.” His whimsical shrug made her regret tarnishing the moment. Lord knew she wanted it to be true, but her mother had drummed into her head that men only wanted one thing. And Hattie had given that up without a qualm.

Being Luc Cavallo’s lover was the best thing that had ever happened to her. He was her first, and she loved him so much it hurt. But she was careful to protect herself. She had a degree to finish, grades to keep up. A woman had to stand on her own two feet. Depending on a man led to heartbreak.

Luc reached into the pocket of his jeans and withdrew a small turquoise box. He handed it to her without speaking.

If she had been able to think of a polite refusal, she would have handed it back unopened. But he looked at her with such naked anticipation that she swallowed her misgivings and removed the lid. Nestled inside the leather box was a necklace, an exquisite, expensive necklace.

Hattie knew about Tiffany’s, of course. In fact, back in the fall she’d been in the store at Phipps Plaza with one of her girlfriends who was in search of a wedding gift. But even on that day, Hattie had felt the sting of being out of place. She couldn’t afford a key chain in those swanky glass cases, much less anything else.

And now this.

Luc ignored her silence. He took the necklace from the box and fastened it around her neck. She was wearing a pink tank top, and the pearl nestled in her modest cleavage. He kissed her forehead. “It suits you.”

But it didn’t. She was not that woman he wanted her to be. Luc would take his place one day with the glitterati. And Hattie, with or without the necklace, would wish him well. But she wasn’t “the one” … and she never would be.

A car backfired out on the street, the loud sound dragging Hattie back to the present. With a mutinous scowl at her own reflection, she closed the jewelry box with a defiant click. Luc probably didn’t even remember the silly necklace. He’d no doubt bought pricey bling for a dozen women in the intervening years.

The afternoon dragged by, the baby fussy with teething … Hattie nervous and uncertain. It was almost a relief when a nicely dressed chauffeur knocked at the door promptly at six-thirty.

The pleasant older man took Hattie’s purse and the diaper bag while she tucked Deedee into the top-of-the-line car seat. It was brand-new and not smeared with crusty Cheerios and spit-up. The baby was charmed by the novelty of having Hattie sit across from her. A game of peekaboo helped distract them both as the car wound its way from the slightly rundown neighborhood where Hattie lived to an upscale part of town.

Though it had been ten years since Hattie and Luc’s college breakup, they had never crossed paths after graduation. It was a big city, and they moved in far different spheres.

West Paces Ferry was one of the premier addresses in Atlanta. Decades-old homes sat side by side with new construction created to resemble historic architecture. Even the governor’s mansion called the narrow, winding avenue home. Luc had recently purchased an entire estate complete with acreage. Hattie had seen the renovation written up in a local magazine.

The article, accompanied by photos of Luc, had no doubt been responsible for this crazy decision to throw herself on Luc’s mercy. Seeing his smiling face after so many years had resurrected feelings she believed to be long dead.

Perhaps it was a sign….

The old home was amazing. Azaleas and forsythia bloomed in profusion on the grounds. A lengthy driveway culminated in a cobblestone apron leading to the imposing double front doors. Luc stepped out to meet them almost before the engine noise had died. His dark hair and eyes betrayed his Mediterranean heritage.

He held out a hand. “Welcome, Hattie.”

She felt him squeeze her fingers, and her skin heated. “Your home is beautiful.”

He stepped back as she extracted Deedee. “It’s a work in progress. I’ll be glad when the last of it is finished.”

Despite his disclaimer, and despite the small area of scaffolding at the side of the house where workmen had been repairing stonework, the interior of the house was breathtaking. A sweeping staircase led up and to the right. The foyer floor was Italian marble, and above a walnut chair rail, the walls were papered in what appeared to be the original silk fabric, a muted shade of celadon. A priceless chandelier showered them in shards of warm light, and on a console beneath an antique mirror on the left wall, a massive bouquet of flowers scented the air.

Hattie turned around in a circle, the baby in her arms quiet for once, as if she, too, was awed. “It’s stunning, Luc.”

His smile reflected quiet satisfaction. “It’s starting to feel like home. The couple who lived here bought it in the 1920s. They’re both gone now, but I inherited Ana and Sherman. He wears many hats … driver is only one of them.”

“He was very sweet. I felt pampered. And Ana?”

“His wife. You’ll meet her in a moment. She’s the housekeeper, chef, gardener … you name it. I tried to get them both to retire with a pension, but I think they love this house more than I do. I get the distinct feeling that I’m on probation as the new owner.”

As promised, Ana entertained Deedee during dinner while Luc and Hattie enjoyed the fruits of the housekeeper’s labors—lightly breaded rainbow trout, baby asparagus and fruit salad accompanied by rolls so fluffy they seemed to melt in the mouth.

Luc served Hattie and himself, with nothing to disturb the intimacy of their meal. Surprisingly, Hattie forgot to be self-conscious. Luc was a fascinating man, highly intelligent, well-read, and he possessed of a sneaky sense of humor. As the evening progressed, sharp regret stabbed her heart. She was overwhelmed with a painful recognition of what she had lost because of her own immaturity and cowardice.

He refilled her wineglass one more time. “I suppose you’re not nursing the baby.”

She choked on a sip of chardonnay. An image of Luc in her bed, watching her feed a baby at her breast, flashed through her brain with the force of a runaway train. Her face was so hot she hoped he would blame it on the wine. She set the glass down gently, her hand trembling. Unwittingly, he had given her the perfect opening.

“The baby’s not mine,” she said softly. “My sister Angela was her mother.”

“Was?”

Hattie swallowed, the grief still fresh and raw. “She was killed in a car crash six weeks ago. My brother-in-law, Eddie, was driving … drunk and drugged out of his mind. He got out and left the scene when he hit a car head-on. Both people in the other vehicle died. Angela lingered for a few hours … long enough to tell me that she wanted me to take Deedee. I was babysitting that night, and I’ve had the baby ever since.”

“What happened to the baby’s father?”

“Eddie spent a few days behind bars. He’s out on bail awaiting trial. But I guarantee you he won’t do any time. His family has connections everywhere. I don’t know if we have the Mob in Georgia, but I wouldn’t be surprised. Eddie’s family is full of cold, mean-spirited people. Frankly, they scare me.”

“I can tell.”

“At first, none of them showed any sign of acknowledging Deedee’s existence. But about two weeks ago, I was summoned to the family compound in Conyers.”

“Eddie wanted to see his child?”

She laughed bitterly. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But no. He was there when I arrived with her. A lot of them were there. But not one single person in that entire twisted family even looked at her, much less asked to hold her. They kept referring to her as ‘the kid’ and talked about how she was one of theirs and so should be raised by them.”

“That doesn’t make any sense given their lack of enthusiasm for the baby.”

“It does when you realize that Eddie thinks Deedee will be his ace in the hole with the judge. He wants to portray the grieving husband and penitent dad. Having Deedee in the courtroom will soften him, make him more sympathetic to the jury.”

“Ah. I take it you didn’t go along with their plan?”

“Of course not. I told them Angela wanted me to raise her daughter and that I would be adopting Deedee.”

“How did that go?”

She shivered. “Eddie’s father said that no custody court would give a baby to a single woman with few financial means when the father wanted the child and had the resources to provide for her future.”

“And you said …?”

She bit her lip. “I told them I was engaged to my college sweetheart and that you had a boatload of money and you loved Deedee like your own. And then I hightailed it out of there.”

Luc actually had the gall to laugh.

“It’s not funny,” she wailed, leaping to her feet. “This is serious.”

He topped off her wineglass once again. “Relax, Hattie. I have more lawyers than a dog has fleas. Deedee is safe. I give you my word.”

Her legs went weak and she plopped into her chair. “Really? You mean that?” Suspicion reared its ugly head. “Why?”

He leaned back, studying her with a laserlike gaze that made her want to hide. He saw too much. “My motivation shouldn’t matter … right, Hattie? If I really am your last resort?” Something in his bland words made her shiver.

She licked her lips, feeling as if she was making a bargain with the devil. “Are you sure you’re willing to do this?”

“I never say anything I don’t mean. You should know that. We’ll make your lie a reality. I have the best legal counsel in Atlanta. Angela’s wishes will prevail.”

“I’ll sign a prenup,” she said. “I don’t want your money.”

His gaze iced over. “You made that clear a decade ago, Hattie. No need to flog a dead horse.”

Her stomach clenched. Why was it that he could make her feel so small with one look?

When she remained silent, he stood up with visible impatience. “I know you need to get the little one in bed before it gets any later. I’ll have my team draw up some documents, and then in a few days, you and I can go over the details.”

“Details?” she asked weakly.

His grin was feral. “Surely you know I’ll have a few stipulations of my own.”

Her throat tightened and she took one last swallow of wine. It burned going down like it was whiskey. “Of course. You have to protect your interests. That makes sense.” For some reason she couldn’t quite fathom, the specter of sex had unexpectedly entered the room. Her mouth was so dry she could barely speak.

Surely lawyers didn’t use legalese to dictate sex … did they?

Suddenly an unpalatable thought struck her. “Um … Luc … I should have asked. Is there anyone who will … I mean … who is … um …”

He cocked his head, one broad shoulder propped against the door frame. His face was serious, but humor danced in his eyes. “Are you asking if I’m seeing anyone, Hattie? Isn’t it a bit late to worry about that … now that you’ve told everyone I’m your fiancé?”

Mortified didn’t begin to describe how she felt. “Not everyone,” she muttered.

“Just the Mob?” He chuckled out loud, enjoying her discomfiture a little too much. Finally, he sobered. “You let me worry about my personal life, Hattie. Your job is to take care of yourself and that little girl—” He stopped abruptly. “Speaking of jobs … what happened? Why aren’t you teaching?” She had majored in math at Emory and had gone directly from college to a high school faculty position.

“I had to take a leave of absence for the rest of the year when the accident happened.”

He sobered completely now, stepping close enough to run a hand over her hair. She’d worn it loose tonight. “You’ve been through a hell of a lot,” he said softly, their bodies almost touching. “But things will get better.”

She smiled wistfully. “Somedays it seems as if nothing will ever be the same.”

“I didn’t say it would be the same.”

For some reason, the words struck her as a threat. She looked up at him, their breath mingling. “What do you get out of this? Why did you agree to back up an impulsive lie by a woman you haven’t seen in ten years?”

“Are you trying to talk me out of it?”

“Tell me why you agreed. I was ninety percent sure you’d throw me out of your office on my fanny.”

“I can be kind on occasion.” The sarcasm was impossible to miss.

She searched his face. It hurt knowing that it was as familiar to her as if they had parted yesterday. “There’s something more,” she said slowly. “I can see it in your eyes.”

His expression shuttered. “Let’s just say I have my reasons.” His tone was gruff and said more loudly than words that he was done with the conversation.

He was shutting her out. And it stung. But they were little more than strangers now. Strangers who had once made love with passionate abandon, but strangers nevertheless.

“I have to go.”

He didn’t argue. He ushered her in front of him until they entered a pleasant room outfitted as a den. Ana, despite her years, was down on an Oriental rug playing with a sleepy Deedee.

Hattie rushed forward to scoop up the drowsy baby and nuzzle her sweet-smelling neck. “Did she nap for you at all?”

Ana stood with dignity and straightened the skirt of her floral cotton housedress. “She slept about forty-five minutes … enough to keep her awake until you can get her home and in bed. Your daughter is precious, Ms. Parker, an absolute angel.”

“She’s not my daughter, she’s my niece … but thank you.” Did the housekeeper think Luc had brought his love child home for a visit?

Her host grew impatient with the female chitchat. “I’ll walk you out, Hattie.”

Sherman waited respectfully by the car door, making any sort of personal conversation awkward. Luc surprised Hattie by taking Deedee without ceremony and tucking her expertly into the small seat.

She lifted an eyebrow. “You did that well.”

He touched the baby’s cheek and stepped aside so Hattie could enter the limo. “It’s not rocket science.” He braced an arm on the top of the car and leaned in. “I’ll look forward to seeing you both again soon.”

“You’ll call me?”

“I’ll get Marilyn to contact you and set up a meeting. It will probably only take a couple of days. You need to go ahead and start packing.”

“Packing?” She was starting to sound like a slightly dense parrot. What had she gotten herself into? Luc was helping her, but with strings attached. She had known his every thought at one time. Now he was an enigma.

His half smile made her think of a predator anticipating his prey. “You and Deedee will be moving in here as soon as the wedding is over.”