The Billionaire's Borrowed Baby

There was nothing ominous in his words, but Hattie felt her throat constrict. Was she really going to try to convince Luc to marry her? Who was she kidding? He had no reason at all to humor her. Other than perhaps sheer curiosity. Why hadn’t he shown her the door immediately? Why was he allowing her to play out this odd reunion?

She should be glad, relieved, down on her knees thanking the good lord that Luc wasn’t already married.

But at the moment, her exact emotions were far more complicated and far less sensible.

She was still fascinated by this man who had once promised her the moon.

Two

What did one wear to a marriage proposal? While the baby was napping, Hattie rummaged through the tiny closet in her matching tiny apartment, knowing that she was not going to find a dress to wow Luc Cavallo. The only garment remotely suitable was a black, polished cotton sheath that she had worn to each of her parent’s funerals. Perhaps with some accessories it would do the trick.

In a jewelry box she’d had since she was a girl, her hand hovered over the one piece inside that wasn’t an inexpensive bauble. The delicate platinum chain was still as bright as the day Luc had given it to her. She picked it up and fastened it around her neck, adjusting the single pearl flanked by small diamonds.

Though there had been many days when the wolf was at the door, she had not been able to bring herself to sell this one lovely reminder of what might have been. She stroked the pearl, imagining that it was warm beneath her fingers….

They had skipped their afternoon classes at Emory and escaped to Piedmont Park with a blanket and a picnic basket. She was a scholarship student … his family had endowed the Fine Arts Center.

As they sprawled in the hot spring sunshine, feeling alive and free and deliciously truant, Luc leaned over her on one elbow, kissing her with teasing brushes of his lips that made her restless for more. He grinned down at her, his eyes alight with happiness. “I have an anniversary present for you.”

“Anniversary?” They’d been dating for a while, but she hadn’t kept track.

He caressed her cheek. “I met you six months ago today. You were buying a miniature pumpkin at Stanger’s Market. I offered to carve it for you. You laughed. And that’s when I knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That you were the one.”

Her smile faded. “College guys are supposed to be counting notches on their bedposts, not spouting romantic nonsense.”

A shadow dimmed the good humor in his gaze. “I come from a long line of Italians. Romance is in our blood.” His whimsical shrug made her regret tarnishing the moment. Lord knew she wanted it to be true, but her mother had drummed into her head that men only wanted one thing. And Hattie had given that up without a qualm.

Being Luc Cavallo’s lover was the best thing that had ever happened to her. He was her first, and she loved him so much it hurt. But she was careful to protect herself. She had a degree to finish, grades to keep up. A woman had to stand on her own two feet. Depending on a man led to heartbreak.

Luc reached into the pocket of his jeans and withdrew a small turquoise box. He handed it to her without speaking.

If she had been able to think of a polite refusal, she would have handed it back unopened. But he looked at her with such naked anticipation that she swallowed her misgivings and removed the lid. Nestled inside the leather box was a necklace, an exquisite, expensive necklace.

Hattie knew about Tiffany’s, of course. In fact, back in the fall she’d been in the store at Phipps Plaza with one of her girlfriends who was in search of a wedding gift. But even on that day, Hattie had felt the sting of being out of place. She couldn’t afford a key chain in those swanky glass cases, much less anything else.

And now this.

Luc ignored her silence. He took the necklace from the box and fastened it around her neck. She was wearing a pink tank top, and the pearl nestled in her modest cleavage. He kissed her forehead. “It suits you.”

But it didn’t. She was not that woman he wanted her to be. Luc would take his place one day with the glitterati. And Hattie, with or without the necklace, would wish him well. But she wasn’t “the one” … and she never would be.

A car backfired out on the street, the loud sound dragging Hattie back to the present. With a mutinous scowl at her own reflection, she closed the jewelry box with a defiant click. Luc probably didn’t even remember the silly necklace. He’d no doubt bought pricey bling for a dozen women in the intervening years.

The afternoon dragged by, the baby fussy with teething … Hattie nervous and uncertain. It was almost a relief when a nicely dressed chauffeur knocked at the door promptly at six-thirty.

The pleasant older man took Hattie’s purse and the diaper bag while she tucked Deedee into the top-of-the-line car seat. It was brand-new and not smeared with crusty Cheerios and spit-up. The baby was charmed by the novelty of having Hattie sit across from her. A game of peekaboo helped distract them both as the car wound its way from the slightly rundown neighborhood where Hattie lived to an upscale part of town.

Though it had been ten years since Hattie and Luc’s college breakup, they had never crossed paths after graduation. It was a big city, and they moved in far different spheres.

West Paces Ferry was one of the premier addresses in Atlanta. Decades-old homes sat side by side with new construction created to resemble historic architecture. Even the governor’s mansion called the narrow, winding avenue home. Luc had recently purchased an entire estate complete with acreage. Hattie had seen the renovation written up in a local magazine.

The article, accompanied by photos of Luc, had no doubt been responsible for this crazy decision to throw herself on Luc’s mercy. Seeing his smiling face after so many years had resurrected feelings she believed to be long dead.

Perhaps it was a sign….

The old home was amazing. Azaleas and forsythia bloomed in profusion on the grounds. A lengthy driveway culminated in a cobblestone apron leading to the imposing double front doors. Luc stepped out to meet them almost before the engine noise had died. His dark hair and eyes betrayed his Mediterranean heritage.

He held out a hand. “Welcome, Hattie.”

She felt him squeeze her fingers, and her skin heated. “Your home is beautiful.”

He stepped back as she extracted Deedee. “It’s a work in progress. I’ll be glad when the last of it is finished.”

Despite his disclaimer, and despite the small area of scaffolding at the side of the house where workmen had been repairing stonework, the interior of the house was breathtaking. A sweeping staircase led up and to the right. The foyer floor was Italian marble, and above a walnut chair rail, the walls were papered in what appeared to be the original silk fabric, a muted shade of celadon. A priceless chandelier showered them in shards of warm light, and on a console beneath an antique mirror on the left wall, a massive bouquet of flowers scented the air.

Hattie turned around in a circle, the baby in her arms quiet for once, as if she, too, was awed. “It’s stunning, Luc.”

His smile reflected quiet satisfaction. “It’s starting to feel like home. The couple who lived here bought it in the 1920s. They’re both gone now, but I inherited Ana and Sherman. He wears many hats … driver is only one of them.”

“He was very sweet. I felt pampered. And Ana?”

“His wife. You’ll meet her in a moment. She’s the housekeeper, chef, gardener … you name it. I tried to get them both to retire with a pension, but I think they love this house more than I do. I get the distinct feeling that I’m on probation as the new owner.”

As promised, Ana entertained Deedee during dinner while Luc and Hattie enjoyed the fruits of the housekeeper’s labors—lightly breaded rainbow trout, baby asparagus and fruit salad accompanied by rolls so fluffy they seemed to melt in the mouth.

Luc served Hattie and himself, with nothing to disturb the intimacy of their meal. Surprisingly, Hattie forgot to be self-conscious. Luc was a fascinating man, highly intelligent, well-read, and he possessed of a sneaky sense of humor. As the evening progressed, sharp regret stabbed her heart. She was overwhelmed with a painful recognition of what she had lost because of her own immaturity and cowardice.

He refilled her wineglass one more time. “I suppose you’re not nursing the baby.”

She choked on a sip of chardonnay. An image of Luc in her bed, watching her feed a baby at her breast, flashed through her brain with the force of a runaway train. Her face was so hot she hoped he would blame it on the wine. She set the glass down gently, her hand trembling. Unwittingly, he had given her the perfect opening.

“The baby’s not mine,” she said softly. “My sister Angela was her mother.”

“Was?”

Hattie swallowed, the grief still fresh and raw. “She was killed in a car crash six weeks ago. My brother-in-law, Eddie, was driving … drunk and drugged out of his mind. He got out and left the scene when he hit a car head-on. Both people in the other vehicle died. Angela lingered for a few hours … long enough to tell me that she wanted me to take Deedee. I was babysitting that night, and I’ve had the baby ever since.”

“What happened to the baby’s father?”

“Eddie spent a few days behind bars. He’s out on bail awaiting trial. But I guarantee you he won’t do any time. His family has connections everywhere. I don’t know if we have the Mob in Georgia, but I wouldn’t be surprised. Eddie’s family is full of cold, mean-spirited people. Frankly, they scare me.”

“I can tell.”

“At first, none of them showed any sign of acknowledging Deedee’s existence. But about two weeks ago, I was summoned to the family compound in Conyers.”