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“Grace?”
She hesitated, but didn’t turn around, waiting for him to say what he had to so she could finally escape. “What is it, Luc?”
“I don’t want to lose you. So I won’t touch you again, if that’s your preference.”
“Thank you,” she said again.
“Don’t thank me. It’s not what I’d do if the choice were mine. If you were honest with yourself, you’d admit it isn’t really what you want, either.” His voice held a grating quality she’d never heard before. “And one more thing.”
“Yes?” she whispered.
“Take my bed.”
She turned around at that. “No! That’s not necessary.”
Slowly he rose from the couch and she realized to her dismay that a very large, frustrated man stood before her. “Take my bed,” he repeated.
“Fine.” She swallowed nervously, backing from the room. “I’ll take your bed.”
He stalked after her. “And for your information,bellissima mia, just so there isn’t any doubt in your mind, all through that passionate little speech your eyes were as cloudy as I’ve ever seen them. Run away for now, but don’t leave thinking I believed a word you said. You do want me. And soon, very soon, you’ll admit it to yourself.” He paused a beat, before adding, “And to me.”
She didn’t dare say another word. Instead, she turned and ran.
Chapter 7
The Great Lie
Day 339: And trouble is at the door . . .
Lockingherself in Luc’s room did nothing to make Grace feel safe. She stood by his bed and wondered how in the world she could be expected to sleep here. She didn’t even have her pajamas because she’d left her suitcase in Toni’s room. Darn him! She didn’t even have a toothbrush. Nor did she have any intention of going after the forgotten items.
As though in answer to her silent raging, a brief knock sounded at the door. It could only be Luc. She stood motionless, debating whether or not to open it. The knob turned and she heard his muffled laugh the instant he realized she’d locked him out.
“If you want your nightgown, it’s here,” he informed her through the wooden panel. “Feel free to use my toothbrush. Good night, Grace. Pleasant dreams.”
She waited several minutes before opening the door. Sure enough, her gown and robe lay neatly folded on the rug. Luc was nowhere in sight. She crossed to his dresser and rummaged through drawers. She didn’t find any pajamas. Maybe he didn’t wear them. Images of Luc, naked in the bed he’d insisted she use, danced through her head and stirred sensations that both shocked and thrilled. She ruthlessly shoved them away. This was neither the time nor place, even though part of her insisted it was the perfect time and place. Discovering a pair of sweatpants, she decided they’d do just fine for nightwear. She returned to the hallway and swapped nightclothes. Then she slammed the door shut, locking it once again. As far as a toothbrush was concerned, use his? Not bloody likely. It was bad enough that she had to use his bed. A bed where he most likely slept naked.
Stripping off her dress, she tossed it across a chair and glared at the pool of soft green silk. In her mind’s eye she saw Luc’s hand against the pale dress, cupping her breast, his dark hair contrasting with her white skin. She struggled to breathe normally. Maybe she wouldn’t wear the dress for Christmas, after all. Maybe she wouldn’t wear it ever again.
A few minutes later she was ready for bed, her teeth brushed with her finger and a bit of toothpaste. She wondered if she’d get any sleep. Doubtful, considering how everything in the room reminded her of Luc and the passion they’d shared. Okay, almost shared. It had to be Luc’s not-so-subtle way of tormenting her.
The worst part came when she slipped between his sheets and rested her head on his pillow. His spicy scent clung to the pillowcase, filling her lungs with every breath, and arousing emotions she’d sooner forget. She clenched her fists. He’d done this on purpose. He wanted to drive her insane. Well, it wouldn’t work.
Three hours later, and on the verge of true madness, she finally drifted off to sleep. An urgent banging put an end to that. Totally disoriented, it took her several seconds to realize the pounding didn’t come from outside her bedroom, but from outside the apartment. Grabbing her robe, she thrust her arms into it and dashed for the door. For endless moments she fumbled with the bedroom door lock. By the time she reached the hallway, Luc raced just ahead of her, wearing only the sweatpants she’d left out for him. He opened the front door, running a hand through his hair.
“What—” he began.
To Grace’s horror, she saw a pair of policemen standing there, Mrs. Bumgartle right behind them, a self-righteous expression on her face.
“Arrest him,” Mrs. Bumgartle demanded, pointing an accusing finger at Luc. “Arrest them both! Those . . . those babynappers!”
For a long moment, no one moved. Then Luc asked, “What’s the problem, Officer?”
“Mr. Salvatore? I’m Officer Hatcher. We met two days ago at your office.”
“I remember,” Luc replied evenly. “Is there a problem?”
“Babynapper!” Mrs. Bumgartle proclaimed from behind the policeman’s broad shoulders. “He said the baby was his niece, that she was his brother’s child. But all his brothers visited tonight and she wasn’t theirs. And he,” she pointed a finger at Luc with dramatic emphasis, “warned them they couldn’t afford to have the police called in again.”
