by Day Leclaire
He slid a hand along the nape of her neck, his fingers sinking into her hair. “Then I’ll assume you’ve been making up for lost time.”
She stirred within his hold. “We weren’t going to do this again, remember?”
“I remember.” His mouth hovered a breath away from hers. “But it was an agreement meant to be broken.”
His head came down and his kiss blocked all thought, all resistance. She slid her arms around his waist, desire racing like wildfire, threatening to flare out of control. He pressed her close, his thighs cradling hers, and she snuggled into his embrace, the feelings he aroused unlike any she’d ever experienced.
Drawing back slightly, he loosened the top few buttons of her blouse. Sweeping it from her shoulders, he exposed the long line of her neck and sloping curves of her breasts. He lowered his head, pressing a lingering kiss in the soft hollow of her throat.
“I want you, amorata mia,” he muttered, his breath fast and hot against her neck.
Her heart pounded beneath his hands and she shook her head, desperately clinging to the tiny bit of sanity remaining to her. Every instinct urged her to give in to his demands, but she couldn’t cross that line, couldn’t permit a physical relationship without the emotional commitment to go with it. “We can’t. It wouldn’t be right.” But it felt right, exquisitely right.
“It would be wrong not to,” he argued. “What’s the problem? You’ve admitted there’s no Will-William. Your job is safe. You want me. And I want you.”
His hands tightened on her hips, making the extent of his desire abundantly clear. She wasn’t certain how much longer she could hold him off. She wasn’t certain how much longer she wanted to hold him off. But she had to try. “Luc, this is crazy. We’ve known each other for almost a year and this has never happened. Think about it. We’re under a lot of stress. We’re forced to live together in very difficult circumstances. It’s an involuntary reaction or something.”
He stared at her in disbelief. “An involuntary reaction? You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m serious,” she insisted. “It’s the situation we’re in, it’s not because we really want . . . You know.”
He laughed, the sound harsh and taunting. “Believe me when I say that I really want . . . you know. I ache for . . . you know. If I don’t experience .. . you know soon, I might do something drastic, like bite the damned buttons right off your blouse.”
“Luc!”
“You don’t get it, do you? I want to kiss every inch of your body, starting with that luscious mouth of yours and finishing with your adorable toes. I want to strip off your clothes and make long, sweet love to you. And I want to do it in every room of this apartment, starting right here and now. And once we’ve made love in every conceivable place and position, I want to do it all over again. Does that give you some idea of how much I want . . . you know?”
She wondered if she looked as shocked as she felt. She licked her lips nervously, watching in fascination as Luc’s eyes flared a brilliant gold. “Where is this leading?” she asked.
“Straight to bed,” he answered without missing a beat.
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. Are you interested in marriage, or are we just talking about an affair?”
His hands tightened on her shoulders. “You’d like an honest answer, I assume?”
“It would be refreshing.”
He hesitated, then said bluntly, “I want to make love to you. That’s as honest as I can be at this point.”
“I see.”
She looked away, hoping to hide her distress. He’d been very tactful. But the bottom line was, he wanted a mistress, not a wife. She’d suspected as much. Still, she hadn’t anticipated how badly the truth would hurt. Stepping from his hold, she pulled the front of her blouse closed. She didn’t try to button it. Her hands were trembling too much to even try.
“What about my job?” she asked unevenly. “I mean, affairs don’t last forever. An ending is inevitable.”
“Whether we decide to become involved or not, I don’t think we should work together any longer,” he said carefully. “There’s an opening at the management level. I’d planned to tell you about it at your year-end review. It would mean a promotion with more money and great potential for advancement.”
She could hardly take it all in. She’d never suspected he might want to promote her. Nor could she deny how tempting she found his offer. Too tempting. Even so, she had to remember Baby Dream Toys. Why had remembering become such a struggle?
Wrapping her arms around her waist, she said, “This is too much, too soon. I need time. I’d rather not do anything I’ll later regret while we’re still taking care of Toni.”
“You want to wait until Brand and Carina return, is that it?”
“Yes.”
“That won’t be for another week. Not until Thanksgiving.”
Her head jerked up and she stared at him. “What?”
“I gather I should have told you sooner.” He watched her with a hooded expression. “I guess I had other things on my mind. Brand called right before my brothers arrived. They’re still in Italy with Carina’s family, while her mother recuperates. He says Carina’s talking to him now, but he hasn’t convinced her to marry him, yet.”
“But seven more days! When does Dom get back?” she asked in a panic.
“He’s due to arrive the week after Thanksgiving.”
That cut it close. Too close. She needed time to think, to get her priorities straight. Whether he realized it or not, Luc was asking her to sacrifice everything she’d worked so hard to attain and everything she’d ever been taught by her father. And for what? A brief affair. A few weeks or months of passion. How could she agree to that? Her answer should be obvious. And it would be, if it weren’t for one small detail. She wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her.
“Grace?”
“I need time,” she informed him. She fought to cloak herself in the calm, collected air she’d spent eleven long months cultivating. It was more of a struggle than she ever thought possible. Where had her control gone? Her detachment? “Once our lives get back to normal, I’ll give you my answer.”
“By Thanksgiving?”
After a brief hesitation, she nodded. “By Thanksgiving.”
“And between now and then?”
She cast him a direct look. “You’re not to touch me. Not a kiss. Not so much as a hug. I don’t intend to be seduced into a decision.”
She could tell he wasn’t pleased. “And if I don’t agree?”
“Then you can explain to social services why your wife doesn’t live with you.” Not waiting for his reaction to her threat, nor allowing herself time to change her mind and tumble back into his arms, she practically ran from the room.
The next five days proved to be the longest of Grace’s life. Now, a mere forty-eight hours from their Thanksgiving deadline, the final days of her tenure at Salvatore’s crept ever closer, as did the day of Dom’s return. True to his word, Luc didn’t lay a finger on her, which stretched both their frustration levels to the limit. As a result, she didn’t know whether to thank him for keeping his promise or hit him. But since she’d been the one to set the rules, she was stuck with them.
How she wished she’d had a chance to talk to her father and get his help and advice. But they’d been out of touch for the past couple of weeks, and though she’d left messages, they kept missing each other.
The doorbell rang. “Luc!” Grace called, struggling to wrap a diaper around Toni—a determinedly wiggly Toni. “Get the door. It’s probably the case manager. Can you answer it?”
“What?”
She raised her voice. “The doorbell!”
“I’ll get it.”
She sighed, snapping and buttoning as quickly as she could. “You don’t give your uncle this much trouble when he changes you. I think it’s very unfair of you to fight me, since I’m the one who just filled you up with a nice, warm bottle.”
Toni responded with a string of bubbles and a determined pumping of limbs. Just as Grace finished, she heard the front door crash shut. An instant later, Luc raced into the room. One look warned it was bad news.
“Quick!” he said, snatching Toni off the changing table and dumping her into a laundry basket of clean baby clothes that was sitting on the bed. “Come with me. Hurry.”
“You can’t put Toni in there! Luc! What’s wrong? What’s happening?”
He didn’t answer, simply clutched the basket and dashed toward his bedroom. Grace gave chase. The doorbell rang again, a strident, urgent sound. Flinging open the door to his walk-in closet, Luc kicked a mahogany shoe rack to one side and set the laundry basket on the floor. Toni gurgled happily. Propelling Grace in beside the basket, he slammed the door.
“Stay there,” he ordered. “Don’t move and don’t make any noise.”
“Luc!” She thrust the door open and poked her head out. “What is going on?”
“In case you weren’t aware of it, when you open your mouth and speak, you make noise. You’ve got to be quiet!” The doorbell rang again, short, multiple, staccato rings. Kissing her swiftly, Luc pushed her toward the back of the huge closet. “My father’s here. Now keep it down.” He closed the door.
Grace opened the door. “Dom’s here?” she asked in a panicked whisper. “He’s not due back for another week.”
“I don’t have time for this,” he said through gritted teeth. “Papà can’t find out about Toni until Brand and Carina are married or he’ll disown the lot of them. Which means you two have to stay hidden.”
“I understand that. But why here? Why not the guest room?”
He ran an impatient hand through his hair. “This is the safest place in the house. He hasn’t been in my bedroom since the time he walked in without knocking and caught the maid making my bed. So you should be fine if you keep quiet.” He slammed the door shut.
She opened it, staring at him in bewilderment. “What was wrong with the maid making your bed?”
He spared her a brief grin. “She was naked at the time.” The doorbell was ringing nonstop now. “Grace, for crying out loud! Open this door again and I’ll haul you out there, introduce you as my wife and tell him Toni is yours!”
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 shook her head 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 door. Dom was still speaking—or rather, yelling—in Italian.
“I told you I was sorry.” Luc replied in English this time. 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 his dry response.
There was a long silence, and Grace could almost see Dom mull over Luc’s answer. “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. She prayed 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 reaction, waiting for him to explode, or come and ferret her from her hiding place. An instant later she caught 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. The closet, to be precise.”
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 subject. 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.”
Their voices grew fainter, dropping to a gentle rumble, and Grace curled up on the plush rug 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 hold her to the letter of their deal, she wouldn’t argue. After all, she’d been the one to break their agreement. She remembered Luc’s passionate kisses with a wistful longing, 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 well within his rights to refuse to set her up in business. And she’d accept his decision.
But what about Luc? She bit her lip. She didn’t doubt he’d realize the real reason for her disguise, discover 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. His offer for a management position 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. 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.
Chapter 9
The Great Lie
Day 346 and Grace’s situation can’t get any darker. Or can it . . . ?
Luc surreptitiously checked his watch as he escorted Dom to the door. “It’s great having you home, Papà. 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 wire-rimmed 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 Ms. 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, Papà, and welcome home.” He slammed the door closed.
Ms. 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 Ms. 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 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 Ms. 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 Ms. Carstairs’ 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?” Ms. Carstairs demanded, turning on him. “Or do you just make them sleep in there?”
