Hot Picks: Exotic Propositions. Кейт Хьюит

here for Annabel, and all I care about is her wellbeing. If that means being without me, then I’ll let her go. If it means being with me, then I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep her. But I’m not going to obey your every barked-out command, or cater to your controlling whims. If I do anything—anything—it will be in consideration of Annabel only. Not you. Understood?’

      She stood, chest heaving, fists clenched, and Lukas stared at her long and hard, his mouth tightening into a thin line of resolve before he gave a slight, self-mocking bow of acknowledgement.

      ‘Understood.’

      ‘Good.’ She still didn’t know if he believed her, but she didn’t care. She was shaking, trembling from head to foot, as she scooped up Annabel, pressed her downy cheek against her pounding heart. Annabel, sensing her fear and anger, kept crying.

      ‘You’re in no state to hold her right now,’ Lukas admonished, and he eased the baby from her reluctant grasp.

      Rhiannon watched as he cradled her carefully, awkwardly. He wasn’t used to babies, she thought.

      The smile he gave Annabel was tender, his eyes widening in surprise at his own reaction to her toothless grin.

      Rhiannon scooped the bottle from the floor and dumped it in the sink. As Annabel began to grizzle again, from hunger, she set to making another one.

      She didn’t know what was going to happen now, and she wasn’t looking forward to finding out.

      All she knew was the next few days might determine the rest of Annabel’s life…and hers.

      Several hours later Annabel was finally asleep. Stars glittered in an inky sky, reflected back in diamond pinpoints on the water, and Rhiannon prowled restlessly around the suite Lukas had insisted she move into a few hours ago. She’d never seen such luxury, and if the circumstances had been different she might have enjoyed it.

      She ran a hand over the silky duvet on the king-sized bed, glanced in mocking derision at the whirlpool bath for two. All the trappings for romance, and totally unnecessary.

      There was a separate sitting area, as well as a kitchenette filled with gleaming appliances and crockery—admittedly handy for dealing with Annabel’s bottles and food.

      A wide balcony stretched the entire length of the suite, and after one last check to make sure Annabel was settled Rhiannon slipped out into the warm cover of darkness.

      She sank into a chair, brought her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on top. It was a pose from childhood—a pose of protection.

      She closed her eyes.

      She could hear the sounds of a party from the resort’s gardens—was Lukas there? She hadn’t seen him since he’d had her moved up here. Out of sight.

      For the last few hours she’d entertained Annabel, fed and bathed her, keeping the doubts, the fears at bay.

      Now they hurtled back with startling force.

      Lukas had the power to take custody of Annabel, she realised dejectedly. She knew she was Annabel’s legal guardian but the courts could easily decide in Lukas’s favour—he had the support of extended family, including the baby’s biological father. He was wealthy, powerful, connected to all the right people…

      Anyway, this was what she’d wanted, she told herself. She’d come to France for Annabel to meet her father, to have a family.

      The family she’d never had herself.

      She’d wanted Lukas to take custody of Annabel, to love her. She’d convinced herself it was best for everyone.

      She just hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. She hadn’t prepared herself for the surge of protectiveness she’d felt when Lukas had threatened paternity tests, custody suits.

      She’d expected to offer Annabel, not to have her taken by force.

      Taken as a matter of duty rather than of love.

      Duty. The word rested heavily on her. Lukas was a man of responsibility. He would do the right thing by Annabel, but he wouldn’t love her.

      Would he?

      Not like I do. Not like I could.

      She shook her head, dashed her hand against her eyes and the tears that threatened to fall. One fell anyway. This was stupid; she was being ridiculous. She didn’t cry.

      She had known this would happen—even if she hadn’t anticipated the exact unfolding of events. She would just have to steel herself against the repercussions in her own heart.

      ‘I thought you might be hungry.’

      Rhiannon looked up in surprise. She’d been so lost in her own unhappy thoughts that she hadn’t heard the glass door slide open, hadn’t seen Lukas step out onto the balcony.

      Yet now she felt him—felt the way his presence seemed to suck the air right from her lungs.

      He was looking down at her with a quiet thoughtfulness that reminded her of that first moment in the bar.

      Then she’d believed he was a kind man.

      Now she wasn’t sure.

      Responsibility, integrity…They were good things, but they weren’t kindness. They didn’t encompass love.

      She knew that well. Too well.

      He placed a plate of food on the glass-topped table in front of her, then took her chin between his forefinger and thumb.

      ‘You’ve been crying.’

      ‘No, I haven’t.’

      In response his thumb traced the track of the tear down her cheek, straight to her heart.

      ‘No?’ he queried gently, and another tear followed silently, dripped onto his thumb.

      Rhiannon jerked her chin out of his hand, scrubbed angrily at her eyes. ‘I don’t cry.’

      He watched her thoughtfully for a moment. ‘Why don’t you eat? The lack of food won’t help things.’

      ‘Thank you,’ Rhiannon mumbled, and self-consciously drew the plate towards her.

      ‘A Languedoc speciality,’ Lukas informed her as she dug into the beef stew. ‘Made with black olives and garlic, finished with red wine.’

      ‘Delicious,’ Rhiannon admitted after one bite. She’d never had such food before.

      He sat across from her, watching her with fathomless eyes. ‘How long had it been since you’d seen this Leanne?’ he asked after a long moment, and Rhiannon looked up in surprise.

      ‘I hadn’t seen her for ten years before she showed up on my doorstep with Annabel, asking me to take her.’ She paused, toying with her fork, lost in memory.

      ‘It must have been quite an inconvenience,’ Lukas commented, his voice neutral. Yet Rhiannon still heard the judgement. Felt it.

      ‘All children are inconveniences,’ she said. ‘That doesn’t mean they’re not worth it.’

      ‘Doesn’t it?’ There was a cynical note to Lukas’s tone that Rhiannon didn’t like.

      ‘What are you proposing to do?’ she forced herself to ask. ‘If Christos is the father? If Annabel is such an inconvenience to you…?’

      ‘You think I’d palm her off like you’ve been trying to do?’ Lukas finished, and Rhiannon jerked back at the scorn in his voice. ‘I do my duty, Rhiannon. I’ll do it by Annabel.’

      ‘I was not palming her off,’ she protested, and Lukas shrugged, unconvinced. Unimpressed.

      ‘Call it what you like.’

      ‘I was prepared to give you custody,’ she admitted painfully, driven to the truth. ‘A child should be with her natural-born parent—if