The Billionaire's Borrowed Baby & Baby Business. Katherine Garbera

       Chapter 4

      Hattie gaped. “Oh, no. Not necessary.”

      “We have the baby to think of, too. You probably won’t rest very well tonight, and you’ll likely need an extra hand in the morning. I’ll sleep on the couch. It may be ugly as sin, but it’s long and fairly comfortable. I’ll be fine.”

      Hattie was torn. Having Luc in her small apartment was unsettling, but the encounter with Eddie had shaken her emotionally as well as physically, and she was dead on her feet.

      She shrugged, conceding defeat. “I’ll get you towels and bedding.” She brushed by him, inhaling for a brief instant the tang of citrusy aftershave and the scent of warm male.

      When she returned moments later, he was on the phone with Ana, letting her know he wouldn’t be home that evening. It touched her that he would be so considerate of people who were in his employ. He was a grown man. He had no obligation to let anyone know his schedule or his whereabouts.

      But wasn’t that what had drawn her to him in the beginning? His kindness and his humor? Sadly, his personality had an edge now, a remoteness that had not existed before.

      She began making up the sofa, but he stopped her as soon as he hung up. “Go to bed, Hattie. I’m not a guest. I don’t need you waiting on me. I can fend for myself.”

      She nodded stiffly. “Good night, then.”

      He lifted a shoulder, looking diffident for a moment. “May I see her?”

      “The baby?” Well, duh. Who else could he mean?

      “Yes.”

      “Of course.”

      He followed her down the short hallway into the bedroom. A small night-light illuminated the crib. Luc put his hands on the railing and stared down at the infant sleeping so peacefully. Hattie hung back. Her chest was tight with confused emotions. Had things gone differently in the past, this scene might have played out in reality.

      A couple, she and Luc, putting their own daughter to bed before retiring for the night.

      Luc reached out a hand, hovered briefly, then lightly stroked Deedee’s hair. She never stirred. He spoke softly, his back still toward Hattie. “She doesn’t deserve what has happened to her.”

      Hattie shook her head, eyes stinging. “No. She doesn’t. I can’t let Eddie take her. She’s so innocent, so perfect.”

      Luc turned, his strong, masculine features shadowed in the half-light. His somber gaze met her wary one, some intangible link between them shrouding the moment in significance. “We’ll keep her safe, Hattie. You have my word.”

      Quietly, he left the room.

      Hattie changed into a gown and robe. Ordinarily, she slept in a T-shirt and panties, but with Luc in the house, she needed extra armor.

      She folded the comforter and turned back the covers before heading for the bathroom. Well, shoot. She’d forgotten to give Luc even the basics. Taking a new toothbrush from the cabinet, she returned to the living room. “Sorry. I meant to give you this. There’s toothpaste on the counter, and if you want to shave in the morning—”

      She stopped dead, her pulse jumping. Luc stood before her wearing nothing but a pair of gray knit boxers, which left little to the imagination. Every inch of his body was fit and tight. His skin was naturally olive-toned, and the dusting of fine black hair on his chest made her want to stroke it to see if it was as soft as she remembered.

      Long muscular thighs led upward to… She gulped. As she watched in fascination, his erection grew and flexed. She literally couldn’t move. Luc didn’t seem at all embarrassed, despite the fact that her face was hot enough to fry an egg.

      “Thank you for the toothbrush.” A half smile lifted one corner of his mouth.

      She extended the cellophane-wrapped package gingerly, making sure her fingers didn’t touch his. “You’re welcome.”

      And still she didn’t leave. The years rolled away. She remembered with painful clarity what it was like to be held tightly to that magnificent chest, to feel those strong arms pull her close, to experience the hard evidence of his arousal thrusting against her abdomen.

      His gaze was hooded, the line of his mouth now almost grim. “Like what you see?”

      The mockery was deliberate, she had no doubt… as if to say you were so foolish back then. Look what you gave up.

      Heat flooded her body. The robe stifled her. She wanted to tear it off, to fling herself at Luc. But her limbs couldn’t move. She was paralyzed, caught between bitter memories of the past and the sure knowledge that Luc Cavallo was still the man who could make her soar with pleasure.

      “Answer me, Hattie,” he said roughly. “If you’re going to look at me like that, I’m damn sure going to take the invitation.”

      Her lips parted. No sound came out.

      The color on his cheekbones darkened and his eyes flared with heat. “Come here.”

      No soft preliminaries. No tentative approach.

      Luc was confident, controlled. He touched only her face, sliding his hands beneath her hair and holding her still so his mouth could ravage hers. His tongue thrust between her lips—invading, dominant, taking and not giving. She was shaking all over, barely able to stand. He kissed her harder still, muttering something to himself she didn’t quite catch.

      She felt the push of his hips. Suddenly, her body came to life with painful tingles of heat. Her arms went around his waist, and she kissed him back. But when his fingers accidentally brushed the painful knot on her skull, she flinched.

      Instantly, he cursed and thrust her away, his gaze a cross between anger and incredulity. “Damn you. Go to bed, Hattie.”

      If she had been a Victorian heroine, she might have swooned at this very moment. But she was made of sterner stuff. She marshaled her defenses, muttered a strangled good-night and fled.

      * * *

      Aeons later it seemed, she rolled over and flung an arm over her face. Bright sunshine peeked in through a crack between the curtains. She had slept like the dead, deeply, dreamlessly. A glance at the clock stopped her heart. It was nine o’clock. Deedee. Dear heaven. The baby was always up by six-thirty.

      She leaped from the bed, almost taking a nosedive when the covers tangled around her feet. The crib was empty. She sucked in a panicked breath, and then her sleep-fuddled brain began to function.

      Luc. Memories of his kiss tightened her nipples and made her thighs clench with longing. She touched her lips as the hot sting of tears made her blink and sniff. Ten years was a lifetime to wait for something that was at once so terrible and so wonderful.

      She opened her bedroom door and simultaneously heard the sound of childish gurgles and smelled the heavenly aroma of frying bacon. Luc stood by the stove. Deedee was tucked safely in her high chair nearby.

      He glanced up, his features impassive. “Good morning.”

      The baby squealed in delight and lurched toward Hattie. Luc unfastened the tray and handed her off. “I fed her a bottle and half a jar of peaches. I didn’t want to give her anything else until I checked with you.” The words were gruff, as if he’d had to force them from his throat.

      Hattie cuddled the baby, stunned that Luc had taken over with such relaxed competence. Not that she didn’t think he was capable. But she had never witnessed him with children,