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“I’m positive,” she said, and he couldn’t mistake her sincerity.
“Just so you know, your timing is really off,” he told her with a short, impatient laugh. Pulling her more fully into his arms, he kissed her again, the embrace passionate and thorough. He didn’t leave a single doubt in her mind that he wanted her. Badly. “If it weren’t for my father—”
“His timing isn’t the best, is it?”
“Not even a little.” Reluctantly, he drew back. “As much as I want to carry you back to bed, I have to leave.”
“Will you be gone all day?” she asked wistfully. “Can you break off early?”
“I hope so. I’ll try and return for lunch.” And with a final kiss, he left.
She secured the door behind him and leaned her forehead against the cool wooden surface. Another day or two and her subterfuge would end. Brand would return, Toni would be back with her parents, and she and Luc would clear up all the lies and deceptions between them. She could hang on for that long, couldn’t she? Not that she had a choice. Straightening, she tightened the sash on her robe and padded toward the guest bedroom. Toni lay in her crib, watching the mobile spin lazily above her.
“Good morning,” Grace said with a smile. “You’re certainly in a happy mood this morning. Ready for breakfast? Or should we have our bath first?” Toni kicked her feet and let out a shrill gurgle. “Breakfast, it is.”
Lifting the baby out of the crib, Grace headed for the kitchen, when a peremptory knock sounded at the door. Later, she realized she should have peered through the spy hole first. But at the time, she didn’t think twice. Assuming Luc had forgotten something, she opened the door.
Dom Salvatore stood there.
He looked at her, took a stumbling step backward, double-checked the number on the door and then looked at her once more. Slowly his gaze took in her sleep-ruffled hair—her sleep-ruffled blond hair, her bathrobe-covered nightie, and finally the baby Grace held clutched in her arms. His face crumpled.
“You are not wearing your glasses,” he blurted out.
“No,” she confessed. “I’m not.”
“And your hair...”
“I know. It’s blond again.” She touched the tangled curls self-consciously, then stepped back. “You’d better come in.”
He looked appalled, and for an instant she thought he’d burst into tears. Then he followed her into the apartment. “All my plans... ruined,” he moaned.
“It’s not so bad,” she attempted to reassure him, wondering desperately which story to tell. Did she mention Brand and Carina? Did she claim Toni as her own? Lord, how she wished Luc was here to help.
Dom shook his head, muttering in Italian. Finally, he implored, “How could this happen?”
Oh, Lord. How did she answer that one? She had to pick a story and fast, and salvage what she could of this mess. She bit down on her lip, forced to face facts with a vengeance. It was too late to save herself. She straightened her shoulders. But she could still help Brand and Carina.
To her relief, Toni came to the rescue. Reacting to the heightened emotions, her face screwed into a frown and she began to cry. “Oh, dear,” Grace said, “I think we’d better get busy with that bottle.”
“Please, wait.” For a long minute Dom stared at Toni, uncertainty clouding his face. Grace could see his quandary, his delight at the possibility of a grandchild warring with his outrage at the circumstances behind that grandchild’s conception. Then his hands inched out and he took the wailing baby into his arms. He jiggled Toni gently and when she stopped crying, he beamed. “And who have we here?”
“This is your granddaughter, Antonia,” Grace said simply.
A look of wonder dawned on his face. “A granddaughter?” he murmured in astonishment. “But, this is marvelous. How old is she?”
Grace’s gaze slipped away from his. “Three months.”
He gaped at Grace.“Tre?”He burst into volatile Italian, stabbing the air with his free hand. She didn’t understand a single word he spoke, but she knew exactly what he said. In order for her to have given birth to Toni, she would have had to tumble into Luc’s bed her first day on the job. At long last, he drew breath. “Three months!” he exclaimed.
What possible explanation could she give that would appease him? “The disguise didn’t work,” she said, her face burning with humiliation.
“This I have figured out for myself!”
To her relief, Toni once again came to her rescue. Wriggling in her grandfather’s arms she began to fuss. “She’s hungry,” Grace said. “I need to feed her.” Leading the way into the kitchen, she popped a bottle into the warmer. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“That would be very kind of you.” He sat down at the kitchen table, holding Toni on his lap. “Tell me, Grace. What happened?”
She cleared her throat, pouring the fragrant brew into a cup. “It’s a long story.” To her relief, the bottle warmer beeped, providing her with a few extra seconds to gather her thoughts. “Would you like to give Toni her bottle?”
