The Billionaire's Borrowed Baby. Janice Maynard

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 goodnight 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, and she was shocked to see him so calm and in control, especially when Hattie herself had experienced a few rough moments in the last six weeks.

      He started cracking eggs into a bowl. “This will be ready in five, and the movers will be showing up shortly. You might want to get dressed. I can handle Deedee.”

      Hattie held the baby close, realizing with chagrin that she had jumped out of bed and never actually donned her robe. The sheer fabric of her nightie revealed far too much. “She’ll be fine with me.” Suddenly she noticed the sheaf of legal papers on the nearby coffee table. “Luc … I’m so sorry. With everything that happened, we never did get around to dealing with the marriage stuff.”

      He popped two slices of bread into her toaster. “No worries. We’ll have time later today.”

      She hesitated, eager to leave the room, but feeling oddly abashed that he had watched her sleeping … without her knowledge. Though they had made love many times when they were together, only once or twice had they enjoyed the luxury of spending the night together.

      She cleared her throat. “Thank you for getting up with the baby. I can’t believe I didn’t hear her.”

      He shrugged. “I’m an early riser. I enjoyed spending time with her. She’s a charming child.”

      “You haven’t seen her throw a temper tantrum yet,” she joked. “Batten down the hatches. She has a great set of lungs.”

      He paused his efficient preparations, the spatula in midair. “You’re doing a great job. She’s lucky to have you as her mother.” His eyes and his voice were serious.

      “Thanks.” Despite the task he had undertaken, nothing about the setting made Luc look at all domestic: quite the opposite. Luc Cavallo was the kind of man you’d want by your side during a forced jungle march. He possessed a self-confidence that was absolute.

      But that resolute belief in his own ability to direct the universe to his liking made Hattie uneasy. In asking for his help, she had unwittingly given him the very power she had refused to allow in their previous relationship. Even if she had second thoughts now, the situation was already beyond her control.

      The contents of the small apartment were packed, boxes loaded and rooms emptied by 12:30. Luc had already paid out the remainder of Hattie’s lease. All that was left for her to do was turn in her keys to the super and follow Luc out to the car where Sherman was waiting. But there she balked. “I’ll follow you in my car.”

      Luc frowned. “I thought we had this discussion.”

      “I like my car. I’m sentimentally attached to my car. I’m not giving it away.”

      The standoff lasted only a few seconds. Luc shrugged, his expression resigned. “I’ll see you at the house.”

      It was a small victory, but it made Hattie feel better. Luc had a habit of taking charge in ways that ostensibly made perfect sense, but left Hattie feeling like a helpless damsel in distress. She had asked for his help, but that didn’t mean she’d let him walk all over her.

      She strapped Deedee into the old, shabby car seat and slid into the front, turning the key in the ignition and praying the car would start. That would be the final indignity.

      As their little caravan pulled away from the curb, Hattie glanced in the rearview mirror for one last look at her old life slipping away. Her emotions were not easy to define. Relief. Sadness. Anticipation. Had she sold her soul to the devil? Only time would tell.

      Luc experienced a sharp but distinct jolt of satisfaction when Hattie stepped over his threshold. Something primitive