Brazilian's Nine Months' Notice. Susan Stephens

a pregnancy test three times. It was only a couple of weeks since she’d left London and the bed of the hotel owner and infamous bad boy of gaucho polo, Lucas Marcelos—too early for doctors or scans, or even the physical signs to make themselves felt, other than tender breasts and some nausea, which, she had no doubt, would ramp up when she faced Luc.

      The self-professed playboy was hardly going to leap with joy when he heard her news. He certainly wouldn’t show the same warm charm he had in London. A man as wealthy and successful as Lucas was bound to be suspicious of her motives. He would be even more suspicious if he knew how elated she’d been when she had discovered she was pregnant.

      Emma’s main worry wasn’t for herself. She wondered if Luc would make a good father for her baby. They hardly knew each other, and what she did know about him hardly pointed to him being a family man.

      One step at a time, she told herself firmly, checking the dress that had seemed perfectly fine when she had first walked into the cloakroom and now seemed too tight. Luc was a close friend of the groom so he was bound to be here. The groom, Tiago Santos, was marrying one of Emma’s closest friends, Danny Cameron. When Luc could spare the time from his chain of super-luxury hotels, both men played gaucho polo for the world-famous Thunderbolt polo team. If Luc didn’t show up he would be the only member of team Thunderbolt not attending the wedding. Emma had recognised several striking faces from the team’s publicity photos. Odds on, Lucas was prowling the party right now.

      She’d been on Luc’s hotel training course in London when the principal of the college had brought her to his attention. Luc’s menacing glamour had caused quite a stir at the annual prize-giving ceremony, where Emma had been singled out for special praise for having an extraordinary grasp of the hotel industry. Because she’d cared for his staff and had seen ways to streamline their jobs, Emma had insisted when Luc had praised her afterwards. ‘You interest me,’ he’d said, his dark eyes mesmerising. She just hadn’t realised how much.

      The instant that faintly amused stare had landed on her awestruck face, she had been lost. She’d always been a romantic and Lucas Marcelos more than lived up to his formidable reputation. He was built like a gladiator, and he did look like a god of the underworld, as some of the more colourful media reports had commented. With his wavy black hair, swarthy complexion, sharp black stubble and hard, driven face, Lucas was a primal force, and his interest had led her to progress to a wholly unrealistic fantasy along the lines of working alongside him and seeing him every day.

      When he had stayed on in London this had seemed almost possible, and she had worked hard to maintain a professional front and impress him. As the days had stretched into weeks, she had allowed herself to believe they could be friends. She had opened up to him about her hopes for her future and her dreams of a career within his company. She had been flattered by his continued interest, she supposed now—too naïve to realise that Luc was a practised seducer who could adapt his technique to suit the situation—or that, for a short time, she had been that situation and her chastity had been a challenge Luc had been determined to overcome.

      It had all come to a head on the night she had learned that her parents had been killed in a police chase. She had been so devastated she hadn’t told anyone. She certainly hadn’t told Luc, as she would have had to explain her parents’ criminal past and her own deep-seated grief, which she couldn’t explain even to herself.

      Her parents had never wanted her, and had always referred to her as their accidental child. That hadn’t stopped her loving them, or pursuing an endless quest to win their love. She had made excuses to herself—her beautiful mother found ageing difficult to handle, while her father, a member of the aristocratic Fane family, must have found the pressure to succeed unbearable. On the night they’d died her tears had been genuine—sorrow for them and the lives they had wasted, and acceptance that her long-held dream to find a way to make them love her, had been lost. She could remember the overwhelming need to be held and loved overcoming her.

      Pretend love was better than no love at all, and Luc was a master of seduction. She had been so glad of it that night. He had woken her to pleasure so extreme she’d found she could forget everything. And so the fantasy had progressed for one more night. Lucas Marcelos had then been her adoring lover, and she had been his treasured love. She had even asked him at one point where they would go from there. Luc had looked at her with surprise, and then he’d shrugged. ‘We could have an affair, if you like.’

      Her dreams had shattered. And then he’d laughed, as if such things were all too easily arranged. She had waited until he’d been asleep and had slipped out of his bed, making the long trek home to Scotland, thinking that would get her head straight. In going back home, she’d hoped to find some trace of a happy memory with her parents, but there had been no trace. There had been nothing to find. So she’d got a job here and started to rebuild her life. She had never thought to see Luc again, but now he was back in her life, for however short a time, she would have to tell him about the baby.

      At least she was back in touch with reality now, Emma reflected as she smoothed the fine silk dress over her still-flat stomach. Lucas was a devastatingly handsome billionaire. She was a chambermaid in training. There was no common ground between them. And skulking in the ladies room wasn’t the answer. She had to face him. With her life as it stood now, she couldn’t afford to waste any more time on hopeless causes. She’d feel better when she explained how happy she was to be expecting a child, and that she didn’t need his help, now or ever.

      He probably wouldn’t even remember her, Emma reflected as a crowd of women joined her in the cloakroom. As they jostled for space at the mirror she reached for her small pouch of cosmetics and set about improving the things she could. Too much make-up and she’d look as if she’d painted her courage on. Too little and Luc might think her pale and weak. And she would never allow him to think that. Adding some lip-gloss helped, and blusher worked wonders. She was just putting everything away again when one of the women turned to her. ‘Hi. Great party, isn’t it?’

      ‘Have you seen who’s here?’ another woman chipped in.

      ‘Lucas Marcelos!’ a third exclaimed, faking a swoon as she directed a knowing look at her friends. ‘I wonder if any of us will come to his attention tonight?’

      Emma was glad of the raucous laughter as it gave her a chance to recover. ‘He’s here?’ she confirmed once they had calmed down.

      ‘And alone,’ the first woman confided. Raising a brow, she added, ‘Men like him shouldn’t be allowed out without a leash. Have you seen him?’ She fanned herself. ‘He’s a licence to sin. Who could blame us if we had to give him a test drive?’

      Emma said nothing as the women continued to discuss their sighting of the notorious heartbreaker. Her first impulse was to run as far and as fast as she could. She was pregnant by a rich and powerful man—a man she hardly knew, with a reputation for ruthlessness and womanising. To top that off, she was penniless in a dead-end job. A job that would lead places, she was determined, calming herself down, and motherhood didn’t come with a handbook, but, like countless women, she would do her best for her child with or without a man’s help. She wasn’t running anywhere. She would see this out. She had never been a quitter, except for that one night in London when she’d run from the most devastating man she had ever met, because she couldn’t bear to be hurt again, but now there was a child to consider, and she would never run away again. Her child wasn’t an accident, it was a gift.

      Feeling better, she collected up her things. Danny had lent her a beautiful dress to wear, and both Danny and the chief bridesmaid, Lizzie, another of her childhood friends, would be waiting for her, wondering where she was. Smoothing down the dress, she checked her reflection in the mirror one last time. Pregnancy and Lucas was a dizzying combination, but the make-up had helped to conceal her ashen complexion. She just had to get through tonight. She had to find a way to talk to him that kept the facts central and emotion out of it.

      She could do this. She turned to say goodnight to the women. ‘Have a great party—’ And stepped out of the door, straight into the path of Lucas.

      Her shocked gaze flashed to his face as he steadied her. Luc’s touch was