The Billionaire's Borrowed Baby. Janice Maynard

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.”

      “Eddie wanted to see his child?”

      She laughed bitterly. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But no. He was there when I arrived with her. A lot of them were there. But not one single person in that entire twisted family even looked at her, much less asked to hold her. They kept referring to her as ‘the kid’ and talked about how she was one of theirs and so should be raised by them.”

      “That doesn’t make any sense given their lack of enthusiasm for the baby.”

      “It does when you realize that Eddie thinks Deedee will be his ace in the hole with the judge. He wants to portray the grieving husband and penitent dad. Having Deedee in the courtroom will soften him, make him more sympathetic to the jury.”

      “Ah. I take it you didn’t go along with their plan?”

      “Of course not. I told them Angela wanted me to raise her daughter and that I would be adopting Deedee.”

      “How did that go?”

      She shivered. “Eddie’s father said that no custody court would give a baby to a single woman with few financial means when the father wanted the child and had the resources to provide for her future.”

      “And you said …?”

      She bit her lip. “I told them I was engaged to my college sweetheart and that you had a boatload of money and you loved Deedee like your own. And then I hightailed it out of there.”

      Luc actually had the gall to laugh.

      “It’s not funny,” she wailed, leaping to her feet. “This is serious.”

      He topped off her wineglass once again. “Relax, Hattie. I have more lawyers than a dog has fleas. Deedee is safe. I give you my word.”

      Her legs went weak and she plopped into her chair. “Really? You mean that?” Suspicion reared its ugly head. “Why?”

      He leaned back, studying her with a laserlike gaze that made her want to hide. He saw too much. “My motivation shouldn’t matter … right, Hattie? If I really am your last resort?” Something in his bland words made her shiver.

      She licked her lips, feeling as if she was making a bargain with the devil. “Are you sure you’re willing to do this?”

      “I never say anything I don’t mean. You should know that. We’ll make your lie a reality. I have the best legal counsel in Atlanta. Angela’s wishes will prevail.”

      “I’ll sign a prenup,” she said. “I don’t want your money.”

      His gaze iced over. “You made that clear a decade ago, Hattie. No need to flog a dead horse.”

      Her stomach clenched. Why was it that he could make her feel so small with one look?

      When she remained silent, he stood up with visible impatience. “I know you need to get the little one in bed before it gets any later. I’ll have my team draw up some documents, and then in a few days, you and I can go over the details.”

      “Details?” she asked weakly.

      His grin was feral. “Surely you know I’ll have a few stipulations of my own.”

      Her throat tightened and she took one last swallow of wine. It burned going down like it was whiskey. “Of course. You have to protect your interests. That makes sense.” For some reason she couldn’t quite fathom, the specter of sex had unexpectedly entered the room. Her mouth was so dry she could barely speak.

      Surely lawyers didn’t use legalese to dictate sex … did they?

      Suddenly an unpalatable thought struck her. “Um … Luc … I should have asked. Is there anyone who will … I mean … who is … um …”

      He cocked his head, one broad shoulder propped against the door frame. His face was serious, but humor danced in his eyes. “Are you asking if I’m seeing anyone, Hattie? Isn’t it a bit late to worry about that … now that you’ve told everyone I’m your fiancé?”

      Mortified didn’t begin to describe how she felt. “Not everyone,” she muttered.

      “Just the Mob?” He chuckled out loud, enjoying her discomfiture a little too