A Stormy Spring

by MacKenzie, C. C.

  Rick had died in seconds by a silent killer and how hellish was that? Her baby girl had fought like a warrior to survive for three hours. And she’d buried them together in a place she’d need to visit again very soon.

  But now something fundamental changed inside her . She had other lives to consider.

  There was another person who could help her. Someone who loved and had cared for her unconditionally in spite of the arguments and rifts they’d endured. Although she’d told her stunned mother she was pregnant she still hadn’t told her of the fact she was having twins. Or that she was wildly attracted to the father of her children. And that was wrong of her. It did not honour the woman who’d brought her into the world.

  How the hell Becca wondered, had she managed to make such a mess of her life?

  Lucas arrived home early determined to spend more time with Becca.

  She was the only woman he’d ever known who’d become a permanent part of his thoughts. Except for Irina. But he knew now that they’d been too young to get married, they’d been caught up in the heady feeling of falling in love for the first time. Might it have lasted had she lived? Who knew the answer to that? But what he did know was his feelings for Becca were too powerful and life changing. Hell, she’d already complicated his life in so many ways.

  He’d endured a vile couple of weeks with Becca retreating from him, refusing to talk about how she felt and he’d backed off to give her more time.

  But a nagging feeling that he needed to talk to her refused to leave him. Usually the house was quiet, but today music boomed from the ballroom, a room he rarely used.

  Intrigued, he placed his laptop case, jacket and tie onto a hall chair.

  He pushed open double doors and stopped dead.

  All the furniture had been moved against the walls. Two priceless Turkish rugs were rolled up to give her space to dance.

  Becca wore a sleeveless bone coloured leotard, cut high on the hip, with a skinny belt of black leather. Her hair, the colour of glossy toffee, was piled in a high knot on her head. On her feet were black leather jazz shoes and leg warmers slouched on her ankles.

  At the moment she appeared to be doing some sort of stretching exercise. Legs apart she bent from the waist, hands flat on the floor. He couldn’t take his eyes off her stunning bottom, all toned and lean and those fabulous long legs.

  Moira bustled past him with a tray containing a jug of fresh lemonade and a couple of glasses.

  ‘Don’t interrupt her,’ he was told in a no nonsense voice. ‘She’s doing her cool down.’

  Irritated, Lucas followed his housekeeper into the room. She set the tray on top of the baby grand piano.

  ‘What happened to rest and relaxation?’ he wanted to know.

  Upside down, Becca peered at him and beamed a smile.

  ‘I’m nearly finished.’

  In a single smooth move she sat, legs split wide apart and rested her torso on the floor. Whoa, very bendy and supple, and a jolt of pure lust speared into his groin.

  ‘You will not be able to do that for much longer, querida.’

  She turned her face to him and raised a brow. ‘You’d be surprised.’

  ‘Becca,’ he said softly. ‘What are you doing?’

  She got to her feet and padded over to a pile of A4 paper next to an iPod deck and turned down the music.

  ‘I’ve been walking through a piece of work that’s been giving me nothing but problems for weeks.’

  Becca moved to the piano, picked up a pen and jotted down a few notes as Lucas peered over her shoulder.

  The scent of warm female surrounded him along with her shampoo and a fresh floral fragrance that made his mouth water. Studying her notes he realised she was choreographing her steps. It all looked terribly complicated and intricate with beats and timings of arm and leg movements.

  Over the last two weeks he’d been careful not to make any sudden moves that might upset the status quo between them. But giving into temptation he pressed his mouth to the soft skin of her bare shoulder, delighted when she gave a jolt followed by a tiny trembling that vibrated through her body.

  ‘I’m all sweaty,’ her sexy voice was husky and low and it did amazing things to his rampant libido.

  A picture flashed into his head as he picked up a white hand towel draped over a chair.

  He turned her round and dabbed her forehead and neck.

  ‘I prefer the term perspiration.’ His gaze took a leisurely stroll over her lean torso and endless legs. ‘Very nice.’

  Big eyes stared into his as she took the towel and wrapped it around her neck.

  ‘You’d think you’d never seen a leotard before,’ she said in a cool tone that made him grin. The knot in the muscles as the base of his neck eased.

  ‘I have never seen you in that particular leotard, querida. What happened to rest and relaxation?’

  ‘This does relax me. I’m not overdoing it.’

  He raised a brow. ‘Who moved the furniture?’

  ‘John and Moira.’ Those big eyes went wary now. ‘Do you mind?’

  His knuckles gently stroked her cheek. ‘Not at all. The room is rarely used unless I’m hosting a cocktail party.’

  Concern and something like fear entered those blue eyes now. ‘You do a lot of entertaining?’

  ‘Mostly I use hotels. Much more convenient.’

  Relief crossed her face and Lucas tucked his tongue firmly in his cheek.

  ‘Do not worry, querida. I do not expect you to cater for cocktail parties.’

  A flush rose over her cheeks. In the past couple of weeks he’d learned that Becca could burn water.

  ‘If I could move the way she does I’d be useless in the kitchen too,’ Moira informed him, totally unrepentant that she’d overheard part of their conversation.

  Lucas caught Becca’s shocked wide-eyed stare.

  ‘Si, my housekeeper has no filter between her brain and her mouth.’

  Completely unfazed by the insult, Moira simply shot him a look.

  ‘Lunch is served in the orangery.’

  Becca turned laughing eyes on him. ‘I’ll go and change.’

  But he captured her hand in his. ‘No, please, let me have the pleasure of looking at you just as you are. And I have a present for you.’

  Moments later Becca caught her hands behind her back and peered up into his face.

  ‘Are you serious?’

  Baffled, he looked at her. ‘It is a laptop.’

  She stared at it as if it was an atomic bomb.

  ‘I know it’s a laptop. But I’m a complete technophobe. It’ll probably burst into flames or self-destruct.’

  He blinked. ‘What about social networking?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Shopping, email, facebook, twitter, pinterest?’

  ‘Nope. And I don’t want to know what pinterest is.’

  ‘It is very creative, you would enjoy it. What about business?’

  Becca shook her head still glowering at the laptop. ‘I do my level best never to be left in a room alone with one.’

  Bewildered now he stared at her. ‘Alone with one what?’

  ‘A computer.’ His laugh had her glare at him. ‘Seriously, you never know what it might do.’

  ‘Querida,’ he said in a silky voice. ‘I will show you.’

  ‘If an IT wizard couldn’t teach me, what makes you think you’ll crack it?’

  He gave his signature shrug. ‘It is very simple and you are clever and creative.’

  She simply stared at the slim silver laptop and didn’t bother to hide the bitterness in her voice.

  ‘Life was so much easier when Apple and Blackberry were fruit.’

  He laughed again and shook his head as his dark eyes met hers.

  ‘Funny girl.’

  ‘It’ll stress me out and the doctor said no stress.’

  Taking her hand in his, Lucas led her through the house into the orangery where Moira was ready to serve lunch.

  H
e sat her in a chair, placed a napkin in her lap before sitting next to her.

  ‘We will begin tomorrow with the laptop to give you time to get used to the idea.’

  He was like a steam train Becca decided.

  He rolled over any and all objections.

  ‘Fine. Lose your temper just once and I’m out of here.’

  Those dark brows winged into his hairline.

  ‘Did Rick lose his temper with you?’

  Becca nodded as she thanked Moira for the delicious looking chicken salad mixed with what looked like chunks of mango. The woman was a star in the kitchen and full of fun out of it.

  ‘Yes, because he loved technology and couldn’t understand why I loathe it.’ And since when had she become comfortable talking about Rick? There was still pain and regret but that spear of grief to the heart had eased. Lucas, she realised, had been gently drawing her out about her life with her husband for days. Sneaky.

  Lucas didn’t respond to her comment, instead he paid attention to his food.

  His eyes found hers. ‘We should have Justin over for dinner.’

  She couldn’t stop her hitch of surprise at the thought that ‘they’ were a real couple. But it was sweet of him to ask, so she kept her tone light.

  ‘I don’t think so. The two of you didn’t exactly hit it off.’

  ‘You didn’t tell me how he took the news.’

  Her relationship with Justin was none of Lucas’s business. Neither was her career or her business partnership. But at the very least she needed to meet Lucas half way.

  ‘He surprised me that he took it so well, I expected him to end our partnership.’

  ‘Is it a contracted partnership?’

  Chewing on a tender morsel of chicken breast, she frowned.

  ‘No, we talked about it before Rick died, but we’ve never got around to it.’

  ‘But you run a business account?’

  ‘Yes, but I don’t get involved in all that. I’m happy to work on the creative side. Justin interfaces with the suits. Actually, after I told him I was pregnant, he came up with idea of me working from France. My mother has a dance studio.’

  Becca’s brows drew together as she thought about it, and as ever, Lucas picked up her mood.

  ‘Problem?’

  ‘Yes, there’s a problem. Technology! Justin’s bright idea is that we use a VR screen when I’m creating.’

  ‘It is easy enough to set-up. Your mother was a dancer?’

  She blinked. They’d never touched on personal things, her choice. Now her conscience pricked because Lucas had no idea who her mother was.

  Becca picked up her glass of water, leaned back in her chair and prepared to enjoy herself.

  ‘My mother is Amelie Babineaux.’

  The look on his face was everything she’d hoped for; a mix of shock and surprised amusement.

  ‘Ah, the Prima Ballerina. My father and I saw one of her last performances. She must be very proud of you.’

  ‘She is. I haven’t seen her in ages.’

  ‘You are close?’

  ‘We were until I married.’

  Now why had she said that? As soon as the words were spoken Becca wished them unsaid. The silence stretched between them as each finished their food.

  Lucas was the first to break it. ‘She did not approve?’

  Becca cleared her throat. ‘She said I was too young, that I hadn’t experienced enough of life.’

  In fact her mother had told her she’d never experienced a grand passion and it showed in her dancing which meant she had no business getting married. Her mother also said she’d settled for security and safety in marrying Rick. The rift those comments caused had never fully healed.

  ‘I have heard she is a woman with strong opinions.’

  Becca nodded. ‘That’s putting it mildly. She can’t stand Justin either.’

  Lucas didn’t look at her instead he paid close attention to crumbling the bread roll between his long fingers. ‘No?’

  ‘According to her he’s manipulative and a parasite who feeds on my creativity. But then she is my mother and believes the sun shines out of me.’ What, Becca wondered, was the matter with her mouth?

  Lucas ran his tongue over his top teeth as he listened. All the time his eyes never left her face.

  ‘You do not think with her years of experience she might know what she is talking about?’

  Becca shrugged feeling terribly disloyal to her mother and to Justin. But she’d opened the bag of dirty laundry and it was too late to close it now. It was important to her that he understood how much Justin meant to her in spite of her mother’s prejudices.

  ‘Justin says it’s because she’s never cut the umbilical cord. From the beginning he’s encouraged me to stand on my own two feet. It was his idea for me to play down the fact she is my mother so that any success we achieve is on our own merit.’

  Lucas didn’t respond as Moira cleared away their plates to make way for coffee.

  Becca poured for both and watched him stir sugar into his delicate china cup.

  ‘When was the last time you saw her?’

  ‘Almost four months...’ She paused at his look of shocked surprise. ‘I know, we’ve been so busy and she’s just returned to France from a fund raising tour of the States for the National Ballet, but I speak to her every other week.’

  Her face flushed as she remembered her mother’s dismayed response when she’d told her she was pregnant. She still hadn’t told her the news it was twins.

  ‘You miss her?’

  Becca nodded. ‘Very much. She wanted to fly out immediately, but Justin thinks it’s better to wait until I’ve got the all clear to travel.’

  He frowned now in a way she’d come to recognise meant he was deep in thought. However, he didn’t respond to her statement.

  ‘Querida, I have a couple of telephone calls to make. Perhaps you would like to escape the house this afternoon?’

  Indeed she would. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘A walk around the park and perhaps a coffee? I know a little cafe which serves the best pastries in London.’

  ‘That would be nice.’

  ‘Give me an hour.’

  She stood as he left, feeling strangely embarrassed. What must he think of her? All she’d done was talk about herself and not once had she asked about his life or his family.

  As she ran up the stairs to shower and change, Becca promised herself that when they spent time together later she’d be less bloody self-centred.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Dressed in ancient jeans and a sweater, Lucas held her hand as they walked through the gates into Hyde Park.

  After a leisurely stroll through the park, he led her to a smart cafe.

  From the warm welcome they received by Seb, the owner, Lucas was well liked.

  ‘And what would your beautiful companion like?’ Seb asked Becca, his pen poised over his notebook.

  Lucas’s beautiful companion surveyed the comprehensive coffee menu while the men chatted in rapid Spanish.

  She caught Seb’s eye. ‘Can I have a non-fat, half-sweet, no-whip soy latte?’

  ‘And something to eat?’ His I-won’t-hold-my-breath tone made her smile.

  Becca gave him big eyes. ‘Can I have the triple chocolate fudge cake with all the trimmings?’

  She jumped as Seb roared with laughter.

  Lucas’s dark eyes twinkled into hers as he ordered an Americano and the house special.

  ‘You have made his day, querida.’

  ‘I’m eating for three.’

  His face paled and the atmosphere between them changed in an instant, becoming tense as the reality of their situation hit them hard.

  He reached across the table, took her hands in his.

  ‘Are you scared?’

  Their eyes tangled. ‘Terrified. You?’

  He squeezed her fingers. ‘Si, the same.’

  ‘Are you good with babies?’

  Dark eyes glitte
red into hers. ‘I have no idea. But I will be a good father.’

  The ball she realised had been neatly tossed into her court.

  ‘You never speak about your family.’

  ‘We have had a lot going on, querida. What would you like to know?’

  ‘Do you have siblings?’

  ‘Si, I have a younger brother, Jacob.’

  Seb broke the moment by delivering their coffees and cake. Becca’s eyes bugged out of her head at the gargantuan concoction of chocolate cake, fresh fruit, cream and ice-cream placed in front of her.

  Pressing a shaky hand to her stomach she stared at Lucas.

  ‘I’ll never eat that.’

  Seb winked at Lucas and left.

  ‘I believe he called your bluff, querida.’

  She took a tentative forkful and closed her eyes as her taste buds signalled pure pleasure.

  ‘Oh my God.’ Her little moan of delight had Lucas shift in his seat and she recognised dark arousal in his eyes. ‘Sorry, I had to take a moment. What does Jacob do?’

  He hesitated. His reluctance to open-up had her raise a questioning eyebrow. It was only fair. After all he’d been subtly pumping her for information for days.

  ‘He heads the family business.’ At her blank look he continued. ‘My family is the Ortiz Hotel group.’

  Her fork clattered on the plate. ‘You mean...’

  He sipped his coffee and those dark eyes melted into hers.

  ‘Si, my father is Don Norberto Juan Ortiz Conde Del Garda.’

  At the intense look in his eyes, the palm of her hand pressed against her stomach. Dear God, he was one step down from a Spanish Prince. She didn’t want to appear presumptuous, but did he mean their children may inherit? But, that would mean marriage, or would it? Her heart skipped a beat.

  ‘But what are you saying? The children might...’

  ‘Si, they will inherit my title and my wealth.’

  Becca might live in the creative bubble of the dance world, but that didn’t mean she was out of touch. However, she’d never realised that Lucas Del Garda, PR Guru and the Ortiz group, ruled by the famous Don Norberto Juan Ortiz, who owned five star hotels in the most exclusive resorts in the world were one and the same.

  Her stomach clutched at the bleak look in his eyes.

  ‘Lucas?’

  ‘It also means that my father will insist that the children are legitimate and brought up as Del Garda.’