him, the world was overwhelming to her. She finally had a nervous breakdown and had to be admitted to a facility. Unfortunately, she was never able to go back to her home. Angela and I sold the house we grew up in…everything Mom and Dad had, but it wasn’t enough. I practically bankrupted myself paying for her care.”
“Angela didn’t help?”
“She told me I should back off and let the state look after Mother…especially when Mom retreated totally into an alternate reality where she didn’t even recognize us.”
“Some people would think your sister made sense.”
“Not me. I couldn’t abandon my mother.”
“When did you lose her?”
“Last winter.”
He looked at her left hand, but it was bare. Where was her husband in all this? Was the guy a jerk who bailed on Hattie rather than help with the mom? And what about the baby?
Suddenly, it became clear. Hattie needed to borrow money. She was proud and independent, and things must be really bad if she had humbled her pride enough to come to him.
He leaned forward, his elbows on the desk. No one who knew their history would blame him if he kicked her out. But though his memories of her were bitter, he didn’t have it in him to be deliberately cruel, especially if a child was involved. And though it might be petty, he rather liked the idea of having Hattie in his debt…a kind of poetic justice. “You’ve had a rough time,” he said quietly. “I’ll be happy to loan you however much money you need, interest free, no questions asked. For old times’ sake.”
Hattie’s face went blank and she cocked her head. “Excuse me?”
“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To ask if you can borrow some money? I’m fine with that. It’s no big deal. What good is all that cash in the bank if I can’t use it to help an old friend?”
Her jaw dropped and her cheeks went red with mortification. “No, no, no,” she said, leaping to her feet and pacing. “I don’t need your money, Luc. That’s not it at all.”
It was his turn to rise. He rounded the desk and faced her, close enough now to inhale her scent and realize with pained remembrance that she still wore the same perfume. He put his hands gently on her shoulders, feeling the tremors she couldn’t disguise.
They were practically nose to nose. “Then tell me, Hattie. What do you need from me? What do you want?”
She lifted her chin. She was tall for a woman, and he could see the shades of chocolate and cognac in her irises. Her breathing was ragged, a pulse beating at the base of her throat.
He shook her gently. “Spit it out. Tell me.”
She licked her lips. He could see the tracery of blue veins at her temples. Their long separation vanished like mist, and suddenly he was assaulted with a barrage of memories, both good and bad.
The soft, quick kiss he brushed across her cheek surprised them both. He was so close, he could smell cherry lip gloss. Some things never changed. “Hattie?”
She had closed her eyes when he kissed her, but her lashes lifted and her cloudy gaze cleared. Astonishment flashed across her expressive features, followed by chagrin and what appeared to be resignation.
After a long, silent pause, she wrinkled her nose and sighed. “I need you to marry me.”
* * *
Luc dropped his hands from her shoulders with unflattering haste. Though his expression remained guarded, for a split second some strong emotion flashed in his eyes and then disappeared as quickly as it had come. Most men would be shocked by Hattie’s proposal.
Most men weren’t Luc Cavallo.
He lifted a shoulder clad in an expensive suit. The Cavallo textile empire, started by their grandfather in Italy and now headquartered in Atlanta, had made Luc and his brother wealthy men. She had no doubt that the soft, finely woven wool fabric was the product of a family mill. His mouth twisted, faint disdain in his expression. “Is this a joke? Should I look for hidden cameras?”
She felt her face go even hotter. Confronting her past was more difficult than she had expected, and without the baby to run interference, Hattie felt uncomfortably vulnerable. “It’s not a joke. I’m dead serious. I need you to marry me to keep Deedee safe.”
He scowled. “Good Lord, Hattie. Is the father threatening you? Has he hurt you? Tell me.”
His intensity made her shiver. If she really had an abusive husband, there was no doubt in her mind that Luc Cavallo would hunt him down and destroy him. She was making a hash of this explanation. “It’s complicated,” she said helplessly. “But no, nothing like that.”
He ran two hands through his hair, mussing the dark, glossy strands. The reminder function on his BlackBerry beeped just then, and Luc glanced down at it with a harried expression. “I have an appointment,” he said, his voice betraying frustration. “Obviously we’re not going to resolve this in fifteen minutes. Can you get a sitter for tonight?”
“I’d rather not. Deedee has been through a lot of trauma recently. She clings to me. I don’t want to change her routine any more than necessary.” And the thought of being alone with Luc Cavallo scared Hattie. This brief meeting had revealed an unpalatable truth. The Hattie who had been madly in love with Luc was still lurking somewhere inside a heart that clung to silly dreams from the past.
He straightened his tie and strode to the other side of his desk. “Then I’ll send a car for you.” As she opened her mouth to protest, he added, “With an infant seat. We’ll have dinner at my home and my housekeeper can play with the child while we talk.”
There was nothing ominous in his words, but Hattie felt her throat constrict. Was she really going to try to convince Luc to marry her? Who was she kidding? He had no reason at all to humor her. Other than perhaps sheer curiosity. Why hadn’t he shown her the door immediately? Why was he allowing her to play out this odd reunion?
She should be glad, relieved, down on her knees thanking the good lord that Luc wasn’t already married.
But at the moment, her exact emotions were far more complicated and far less sensible.
She was still fascinated by this man who had once promised her the moon.
Chapter 2
What did one wear to a marriage proposal? While the baby was napping, Hattie rummaged through the tiny closet in her matching tiny apartment, knowing that she was not going to find a dress to wow Luc Cavallo. The only garment remotely suitable was a black, polished cotton sheath that she had worn to each of her parent’s funerals. Perhaps with some accessories it would do the trick.
In a jewelry box she’d had since she was a girl, her hand hovered over the one piece inside that wasn’t an inexpensive bauble. The delicate platinum chain was still as bright as the day Luc had given it to her. She picked it up and fastened it around her neck, adjusting the single pearl flanked by small diamonds.
Though there had been many days when the wolf was at the door,
