Lucy grew heavy in her arms. She started to change her position, then let Raoul take her, watching as the limp infant was tucked lovingly into her father’s chest.
Folding her empty arms, she tried telling herself she could manage alone, but she couldn’t ignore his point about day care.
“My mother wants to see her,” Raoul added in quiet insistence. “You know how hard travel is on her. Lucy obviously hates the bottle. We could force the issue—”
“No!” she blurted, hating thinking of Lucy being distressed about anything. If she preferred to breast-feed, well, this was a finite time in both their lives.
“You’ll come to New York with us, then.”
“Don’t start with your pushy tactics! I know how you work, getting a small concession and turning it into a major one,” she said with mild disgust. “I’ll think about New York. And if I go, it won’t be as your—”
Lover? Mistress? Girlfriend? The words all sounded so superficial and temporary, paring her self-worth down to nothing.
“Nanny?” he prompted, mouth quirking briefly, then he sobered. “I’d have to hire one if you don’t go. I’d prefer to pay you. You could quit the transcription.”
“Don’t make it sound easy. It’s not.”
One long masculine finger touched her jaw, turning her face to his. “What’s hard? Making the promise about not stealing? Or keeping it?”
His challenge pinned her so she felt like an insect squirming in place, unable to escape even though she wanted to scamper away. Dying by increments, she felt the spasm of hurt reflect in her face before she was able to mask it, but a pierce of pain stayed lodged in her heart like an iron spike.
Looking him straight in the eye, she defiantly said, “I will never take anything from you. Ever.”
He held her gaze for so long she almost couldn’t stand it. Tightness gripped her chest and her skin felt too small for her body.
He nodded once.
As he walked away, she hung back, trembling. Had she lost or won?
* * *
Raoul’s mother cried when she held Lucy for the first time.
“I never imagined he’d give me a grandchild. He’s such a workaholic.” Beatrisa was a tall, slender woman who dressed well and bound her silver hair into a figure eight behind her head. Her subtle makeup enhanced her aristocratic features and she wore elegant jewelry that Sirena suspected were gifts from her son.
Beatrisa had always seemed to lack a real spark of life and now Sirena understood why. She felt a tremendous need to be kind to the older woman, and was glad she’d conceded to the trip, even though everything about staying in this house was awkward.
“She thinks we’re a couple,” she hissed when they were given a room to share.
“What a crazy assumption, with the baby and all,” he drawled.
“You should explain to her.”
“How?” he countered with exasperation.
Oh, that attitude of his grated. Especially since she could see how it would go. Beatrisa was being incredibly polite, plainly trying not to pry as she accepted their “modern” relationship with a murmur about admiring independent women. Any attempt to clarify would crack open the marriage question and Raoul didn’t see any point in that.
Not that she wanted to marry him. No, they might have found a truce and a crooked understanding with their revelations about their past, but it wasn’t as though he’d magically fallen in love with her. For her part, she was too aware of how easily she could tip back into crazy infatuation with him, making her vulnerable to his dominant personality. He’d broken her heart once already. She couldn’t let him do it again.
“I’ll use the bed in Lucy’s room,” she said.
His sigh rang with male frustration. “The doctor cleared you for more than travel, didn’t he?”
“So I’m supposed to fall into bed with you?” She swung around to glare at him across the foot of the enormous, inviting bed with its plump pillows and slippery satin cover. “I realize you think I slept with you to hide my crime, but sex isn’t that mindless for me. I need feelings on both sides.”
A chill washed over her as her words rang in her ears. Nausea threatened, the kind that came from deep mortification. She was an independent woman, all right, one whose only solace against her obsession with her boss was that he’d never known how deep it went, but she’d just snapped her way into humiliation. Her clothes might as well be on the floor around her ankles, she felt so naked and exposed.
He stood arrested, but the wheels were spinning fast behind his inscrutable stare.
Trying to stay ahead of any conclusions he might draw, she gathered her toothbrush and pajamas from her bag, aware she was shaking but unable to control it.
“Of course, I’m given to self-deception,” she stammered. “And thank God, or we wouldn’t have Lucy, would we? But we both know how we feel about each other now and I make enough fresh mistakes without having to repeat old ones, so...”
She practically ran from the room before locking herself into Lucy’s, where she threw herself facedown on the bed and quietly screamed into a pillow.
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