by Day Leclaire
“Should I be?”
Dom stiffened. “Is this why you did not tell me about Antonia? You were angered that we deceived you?”
Luc’s expression softened. “No, Papà. I wouldn’t do that. I’ve explained why I didn’t notify you. You needed to get away from Salvatore Enterprises. This past year has allowed you time to recuperate, and given me time to take control of the business.”
“Then, it was good I hired Grace. She has helped you focus on your work.”
Grace winced, waiting for Luc’s tenuous control of his temper to finally snap. “You didn’t need to involve someone else,” Luc bit out, slamming his coffee mug to the counter. “You should have trusted me to take care of the work situation without interfering.”
“Perhaps.” Dom shrugged, not in the least intimidated by his son’s wrath. “But I wished to ensure you would have a full year to concentrate on work and not be subjected to irresistible temptations.” He glanced at Grace and smiled apologetically. “This will not be a problem anymore, eh? Once a Salvatore falls in love and marries, it is for life. The eyes, they become blind to every other woman.”
It was all Grace could do not to weep. How she wanted that to be true. But as much as she might wish it otherwise, Luc hadn’t fallen in love with her, merely in lust. And that minor detail ensured a broken heart at the end of their affair. Assuming they even had an affair. In the meantime, she couldn’t continue to stand there quietly as though condoning any further lies. Rinsing her coffee cup at the sink, she crossed to where Dom sat.
“Would you excuse us?” she murmured, lifting Toni into her arms. “I think it’s time we dressed.”
Dom stood. “I am happy I returned for Thanksgiving,” he said, enfolding her in a tender embrace and kissing her cheeks. “I have come home to find much to be grateful for.”
Unable to think of a single response, Grace offered a watery smile. Turning to leave the room, she shot Luc a swift, beseeching look, praying he’d understand her silent plea. Perhaps agreeing to Dom’s plan had been wrong, but it had been the offer of a lifetime and too good to refuse. Would Luc understand that? Would he listen to her explanation?
Twenty minutes later Grace returned, now dressed in slacks and a sweater. She and Toni arrived just in time to bid Dom farewell. She stood next to Luc and smiled serenely, striving to appear the perfect wife. The minute his father disappeared down the hallway, Luc turned on her.
“Every damned word out of your mouth has been a lie, hasn’t it?” he snarled, kicking the door shut. It bounced back ajar, but he ignored it, stalking after her.
“Not every word.” She backed toward the living room, clutching Toni to her breast like a shield. Realizing she couldn’t continue to hide behind a baby, she carried Toni through to the bedroom and put her in the crib for a nap, far from the line of fire. Then Grace returned to face Luc, refusing to be intimidated by his fury. “Besides,” she said, jumping right back into the fray. “What about all your lies?”
“I lied to protect the baby,” he defended himself. “They were necessary lies.”
She lifted her chin. “They’re still lies. And as far as protecting the baby, haven’t I done everything possible to help you since Toni arrived? Haven’t I lied to the police and to the social service people, in order to cover for Brand and Carina? And for what? For you. What more do you want from me? I even lied to your father. And that cost me the chance to start my own business.”
Her words brought home the cold, hard facts and she stared at him with anguished eyes, the full extent of her predicament finally sinking in. “My own business,” she whispered. To her horror, she burst into tears. She looked around helplessly, trying to remember where the tissues were kept.
“Here.”
He held out a box of tissues and she took it gratefully, struggling to stem the flood of tears. “I’m sorry,” she managed to say. “It must be the stress.”
Luc thrust his hands into his trouser pockets, a muscle leaping in his jaw. “Explain it to me. The deal you had with Papà.”
She waved the damp tissue. “You already know most of it.”
He paced in front of her. “I sure as hell didn’t know you were in cahoots with my father.”
“That’s the only fact you didn’t have. You knew about the disguise and the fake engagement.”
He nailed her with a disbelieving look. “And my father put you up to it?”
Reluctantly, she nodded. “He seemed to think it was the only way he could retire. All your employees kept falling in love with you and making a mess of the office situation. He thought I’d be different.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “He thought I’d be more levelheaded, that with the disguise and the engagement ring, you’d keep your distance. And because of his offer, I’d keep mine.”
“Ah, yes. The offer.” A cynical note colored his words. “A business of your own, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” she confirmed. “When we met during the young entrepreneur’s contest, Dom realized I was desperate to open my own store and offered a deal. If I’d work for you for one year—keep our relationship strictly professional with no personal involvement—he’d finance Baby Dream Toys.”
“Desperate?” He seized on the word, his eyes narrowing. “Why were you so desperate to start your own business?”
The question hung between them. “Because of my mother,” she whispered at last.
Chapter 10
The Great Lie
Day 346 continues to darken—but all is not lost . . .
Luc stilled, watching her closely. “Your mother?”
Grace bowed her head. “We were going to start the business together. We dreamed about it, planned it. She used to make the most beautiful stuffed animals. She’d call them her ‘baby dreams.’ That’s where the name for the store came from.”
“What happened, cara?” he asked gently.
“She died right before the contest.” Grace’s voice broke and she buried her hands in her face. “I wanted to open the store so much, to name it in her honor. It was wrong to deceive you, I know that. But at the time, all I could think of . . .” She shook her head, fighting for control.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded. “When all the other deceptions were uncovered, why didn’t you come clean? Didn’t you think I’d understand?”
She crumpled his handkerchief in her fist. “You had all these wonderful, generous excuses for why I’d deceived you. But they weren’t true. I knew when you found out my motivation was greed, you’d hate me. I’m sorry,” she said, choking on the words.
He groaned, the sound low and rough. “Cara, don’t. Don’t cry. Of course I don’t hate you.” Crossing to her side, he swept her into his arms. Gently, he pushed her hair from her face and forced her to look at him. “Papà was right about one thing. If it hadn’t been for that damned engagement ring, I wouldn’t have been able to keep my hands off you.”
“It was my mother’s,” she confessed. “I wore it as a reminder, to help me stay focused on my goal.”
“I’m so sorry, Grace.”
He kissed her then, kissed her with an urgency she couldn’t mistake, sweeping her into a firestorm of desperate need. She made a decision then and there. She loved Luc and she wanted him. If all he could give her were these few minutes, she’d seize them with both hands. “Luc, please,” she urged. “Make love to me.”
He studied her expression intently. “Are you sure?” he asked. At her nod, he eased back and dropped his suit jacket to the floor. Next came his tie. Yanking the knot loose, he stripped off the red silk and tossed it to one side. It ribboned through the air, catching on a lampshade.
Eager to help, Grace applied herself to the buttons of his shirt, wanting to feel the hair-roughened skin beneath her fingers. “You never told me why you came back this morning,” she said, dropping a string of kisses along his jaw. A minute later the shirt winged through the air, joining his jacket on the floor.
“
Distracted. Forgot my damned briefcase.”
He unfastened his belt and whipped it out of the loops. At the harsh sound of his zipper, Grace froze. She stared at Luc, seeing the passion that marked his high, sweeping cheekbones. His breathing escaped, fast and irregular, his chest rising and falling as if he’d just run a marathon. Sensing her hesitation, he didn’t touch her, simply waited, giving her the opportunity to retreat.
She’d never thought she’d find herself in such a position, where she’d feel such an urgent need for a man, be filled with such an all-consuming love, be so ready to forsake the teachings of a lifetime. And yet she intended to do precisely that. All doubts gone, she reached out and stroked the taut, muscular ridges of his chest, exploring at will from shoulder to abdomen. Her hand drifted lower and she hesitated, reluctant to traverse into uncharted territory.
“Your turn,” he muttered, grasping the bottom of her sweater and pulling it over her head.
She emerged breathless and flustered. But the minute she looked at Luc, the minute she saw the intense yearning flare to life in his golden eyes, all doubt vanished. His hands slipped beneath the straps of her bra and he slid the narrow bands from her shoulders. As soon as he released the hooks, the scrap of lace joined his tie on the lampshade.
For a long time they stood without touching, absorbed in a visual examination. Then Luc reached out and gently cupped her breasts. Grace’s knees gave beneath her. He caught her in his arms and kissed her—fast, hot, desperate kisses. Shedding his trousers, he peeled off her slacks with a speed that left her gasping.
“Maybe we should go to the bedroom,” Grace suggested, tumbling back into his arms.
“The bedroom. Right.” He toppled her onto the couch and followed her down. “Too far.”
His mouth closed over hers again and his hands began a thorough, intimate exploration, each delicious caress driving her closer and closer to some sweet crisis, the intense pleasure almost painful.
“Luc,” she said with a gasp, squeezing her eyes closed. “I can’t take much more.”
“Grace?”
Luc’s voice seemed to float to her from a long distance. “What, Luc?”
He nuzzled her cheek. “I didn’t say anything.”
“I thought you said Grace.”
“Only before meals.”
“I’m too hungry to eat,” she muttered, winding her arms around his waist and pressing her mouth to the strong line of his neck.
“Grace?”
She frowned, slowly opening her eyes. “What?”
Luc nibbled her lips. “What?”
“I mean, what do you want?”
He chuckled, the sound low and intimate. “You know what I want.”
“No. I mean, why did you call my name?”
He pulled back slightly. “I told you. I didn’t.”
“Grace?”
They both stiffened, staring at each other in dawning horror. “Get off me, quick!” she whispered urgently, shoving at his chest.
Luc didn’t move. “What—”
“Grace!” An appalled masculine voice spoke from the doorway to the living room.
“Oh, hell!” And that’s definitely where she was headed. No longer trying to escape, she buried her head in Luc’s chest, attempting to disappear behind his broad shoulders.
Luc glanced down at her, then over his shoulder at the man and woman hovering just inside the living room. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded. “And what are you doing in my apartment?”
“Dear Lord!” The man continued to stare in shock. “I’m Reverend—”
“I’m Ms. Caruthers with child protective services,” the woman interrupted, pushing past the reverend and stepping boldly forward. She brandished her clipboard like a sword. “I’m your case manager.”
“No. You’re not,” Luc contradicted. “Ms. Carstairs is our case manager.”
“Not anymore. I’ve taken over. Her report was so strange. Closets and laundry baskets and elopements and so forth—”
“Elopements?” the minister cut in. “Did you say elopements?”
Ms. Caruthers nodded emphatically. “Elopements. Poor Ms. Carstairs has made such a muddle of everything, they’ve taken her off the case.” She pointed an accusing finger in Luc’s direction. “And it’s all your fault.”
Luc glanced first at Grace, then back at the intruders. “Turn around,” he snapped. “And no peeking.”
Hesitantly, they complied. Luc yanked Grace to her feet and scooped a handful of clothes off the carpet, tossing a pair of slacks in her direction and pulled on his shirt. Not wasting a single second, she thrust her foot into the pant legs.
“You want to tell me how you got in here?” Luc demanded.
“The door was open,” the reverend replied in an apologetic voice. His head swiveled toward the clothes-strewn lamp and quickly jerked away again. “Would you mind telling me what elopement this woman is talking about? And what baby?”
Grace grabbed Luc’s arm, as if to physically restrain him. “Don’t say it,” she whimpered.
To no avail.
“My elopement,” Luc announced, snagging her bra off the lampshade and tossing it to her, helping her hook it. “And Grace’s elopement.”
“You’re married?” the reverend gasped, spinning around. His eyes practically popped out of his head and he whirled away again. “Oh, good heavens.”
“Yes, we’re married,” Luc confirmed.
“No, no!” Grace denied, dressing with a speed she’d never before attempted. “You don’t understand. Just give me a minute to explain!”
Ms. Caruthers began scribbling madly and, in the distance, Toni, fed up with being neglected, began to cry. Grace gave serious consideration to crying, as well.
The minister stiffened, his head cocked in the direction of the telltale wail. “You have a baby?” he whispered in disbelief.
“No!” Grace shouted.
“Maybe!” Luc shouted louder. “It depends on who you are.” He looked at Grace. “Where’s D’Angelo’s scorecard? I’m getting confused. Which story do we tell the minister?”
“There isn’t a minister on our damned scorecard!” she practically shrieked.
“Grace!” the minister exclaimed, clearly shocked.
She shut her eyes. “I’m . . . I’m sorry.” Peeking at Luc, she said, “Did I ever mention that my father is a Methodist minister?”
“No,” he replied dryly. “I don’t believe you did. Let me guess. This is him, right?”
“Bingo.”
“I should warn you, if you aren’t married, there will be dire repercussions,” Ms. Caruthers announced.
“May we turn around now?” Reverend Barnes requested.
“Sure. Why not,” Luc agreed. He glanced at Grace. “Your sweater’s on backward.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “It’s a new fashion statement. It’s called ‘caught in the act.’”
“You two,” Ms. Caruthers informed them, “are in deep trouble. I can guarantee there will be serious consequences if we discover you’ve been lying to us. Now are you, or are you not, married?”
Luc sighed, then forced a smile to his lips. “Now, Ms. Caruthers,” he began.
The social worker stumbled backward. “Get away from me, you . . . You . . . devil!” She looked at Grace. “This is what happened to Ms. Carstairs, isn’t it? We knew something was wrong when she let her hair down and started to wear makeup.”
Grace touched her own loose curls self-consciously. “Yes, he seems to have that effect on women.”
Ms. Caruthers drew herself up. “Well, not me! He’s not going to use his charms on me.” She peered at Luc hopefully. “You weren’t going to try your charms, were you?”
Reluctantly, Luc shook his head. “No. I guess not. I believe my charming days are over.”
The social worker struggled to hide her disappointment. “We’ll see what Mrs. Cuthbert has to say about all this. She’s my superior. And I guarantee she won’
t be pleased!” Spinning around, she scurried from the room. A minute later, the front door slammed.
With deep dread, Grace glanced at her father. “I bet you’re wondering what’s going on.”
“I think what’s going on here is painfully obvious,” Reverend Barnes said, with more than a touch of irony.
“Yes, I guess it is.” Grace could feel the bright color returning to her cheeks and she scrambled for something innocuous to say. Something to help ease them into the coming conversation. Or confrontation. “Gee, Dad. Your being here sure is a surprise.”
“For both of us. I did try and call.”
She stirred uncomfortably. “We kept missing each other.”
“Yes, we did. Now I see why.” He glanced around the room and Grace knew he’d misinterpreted the reason her possessions were so liberally scattered about. “You haven’t been at your apartment recently, have you?”
“No,” she replied, deciding a lengthy explanation wouldn’t help the situation any. “How did you know I was here?”
“When I couldn’t reach you at home, I stopped by your office and met a very helpful security guard. Once I convinced him I was your father, he gave me this address.”
“Edward,” Grace said with a sigh.
“I believe that was his name. Now. I think introductions are in order, don’t you?” He looked pointedly at Luc, who stepped forward.
“Luc Salvatore, Reverend Barnes,” he said, holding out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Under other circumstances, I might agree with you,” the minister replied, shaking hands.
“I’m sorry about that,” Luc said, though his gaze remained direct and unrepentant. “If the door had been shut properly, we would have all been saved some embarrassment.”
Reverend Barnes chose not to comment. “You’re Grace’s employer, aren’t you?” he asked instead.
“Yes, she’s been with me for almost a year.”
“And is she also your wife?”
Luc shook his head. “No. Not yet.”
“You’re certain? There seemed to be some doubt a few minutes ago.”
“I’m positive.”
