Luc 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 Grace into his arms. Gently, he pushed her hair from her face and
forced her to look at him. "Dad 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."
He kissed her with an urgency she couldn't
mistake, sweeping her into a firestorm of desperate need. She didn't
resist. The thought never entered her mind. 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 whispered.
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 lamp shade.
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, joined 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, the sound jerking
her back to reality, forcing her to reassess her choices. She stared at
Luc, seeing the passion that marked his high-boned face. His breathing was
fast and irregular, his chest rising and falling as though he'd just run a
marathon. Sensing her hesitation, he didn't touch her, simply waited,
giving her the opportunity to retreat.
Never had she thought to 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, to be so ready to forsake the teachings of a
lifetime. And yet, that was precisely what she intended to do. All doubts
gone, she reached out and stroked the taut, muscular ridges of his chest,
exploring at will from shoulder to abdomen. At the parting of his
trousers, 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 him, 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.
Reaching behind her, he released the hooks and the scrap of lace joined
his tie on the lamp shade.
For a long time they stood without touching,
absorbed in a visual examination. Then Luc reached out and gently cupped
her breast and Grace's knees buckled. He caught her in his arms and kissed
her, fast, hot, desperate kisses. Shedding his trousers, he peeled off her
stretch pants 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. He probed the sensitive curves and
hollows, 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 and she groaned, not opening her eyes. "What?"
He nuzzled her cheek. "I didn't say anything."
"I thought you said Grace," she muttered.
"Only before meals."
"I'm too hungry to eat," she said, winding her
arms around his waist and pressing her mouth to the strong line of his
neck.
"Grace?"
He called to her again, the sound not quite as
distant as before, but not as close as it should be. She frowned and
peeked at him from beneath her lashes. "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, criminey!" 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... I'm Reverend--"
"I'm Miss 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. "Miss
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?"
Miss Caruthers nodded emphatically. "Elopements.
Poor Miss Carstairs has made 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 at them. "And no peeking."
Hesitantly, they complied and he yanked Grace to
her feet. Scooping a handful of clothes off the carpet, he tossed 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 though to physically
restrain him. "Don't say it..." she whimpered--to no avail.
"My elopement," Luc announced, snagging her bra
off the lamp shade and tossing it to her. "And Grace's elopement."
"You're married?" the reverend said in a shocked
voice. He spun around. His eyes practically popped out of his head and he
whirled around 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!"
Miss Caruthers began scribbling madly. Toni, fed
up with being neglected began to cry. Grace gave serious consideration to
crying, as well.
The minister's gaze seemed drawn to Toni like a
magnet. "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 Stefano's score card? I'm getting
confused. Which story do we tell the minister?"
"There isn't a minister on our damned score card!"
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 to you 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 that if you aren't married,
there will be dire repercussions," Miss Caruthers announced.
"May we turn around now?" Reverend Barnes
requested.
"Sure. Why not," Luc agreed. He glanced at Grace.
"Your sweater's on backwards."
She folded her arms across her chest. "It's a new
fashion statement. It's called 'caught in the act.'"
"You two," Miss Caruthers informed them, "are in
deep trouble. I can guarantee there will be serious consequences if we
discover you've been lying about the information you gave us. Now are you
or are you not married?"
Luc sighed, then forced a smile to his lips. "Now,
Miss Caruthers," he began.
The social worker stumbled backward. "Get away
from me, you...you...devil!" She looked at Grace. "This is what happened
to Miss Carstairs, isn't it? We knew something was wrong when she let her
hair down and started to wear make up."
Grace touched her own loose curls
self-consciously. "Yes, he seems to have that effect on women."
Miss Carstairs 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!" Miss Caruthers
said with a sniff. 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," she said with a hesitant smile.
Related
Salvatore Books:
Who's Holding
the Baby?
(Luc and Pietro's story)
Bridegroom on
Approval
(Marco's story)
The Bride's
Proposition
(Stefano's story)
The Baby Gift
(Alessandro's story)
This
book was:
- Winner of Romantic Times 1994
Reviewers Choice Award for Best Harlequin Romance.
- Finalist for 1995 Holt Medallion
Award, Traditional Category.
- Finalist for Romantic Times Career
Achievement Award in 1994, Love and Laughter Category.
From the book:
WHO'S HOLDING THE BABY
by Day Leclaire
Kid's and Kisses Promotion
0-373-03338-9
Harlequin Romance #3338–November '94
"Day Leclaire writes wonderful romance
stories..." Debbie Macomber
"Each book better than the last and each meant to be savored..."
Romantic
Times
