Chapter 5

      Wearing ancient jeans and a faded Emory T-shirt, Luc sprawled on the leather sofa and stared moodily at the blank television screen. Was he insane? Power. A nice fantasy. Clearly he was fooling himself. What man was ever really in control when his brain ceded authority to a less rational part of his body?

      Just being close to Hattie these last few days had caused him to resort to cold showers. He told himself that his physical response to her was nothing more than a knee-jerk reaction to memories… to sensual images of the way he and Hattie had burned up the sheets.

      She’d been a virgin when they met, a shy, reserved girl with big eyes and a wary take on the world. As if she was never quite sure someone wasn’t going to pull the rug out from under her feet.

      He’d been embarrassed to tell her how many girls he’d been with before meeting her. A horny teenager with unlimited money at his disposal was a dangerous combination. In high school, he’d been too concerned about keeping his body in shape for sports to dabble in drugs. And even drinking, a rite of passage for adolescent boys, didn’t hold much allure. Perhaps because he had grown up in a house where alcohol was freely available and handled wisely.

      But sex…hell, he’d had a lot of sex. Money equals power…even sixteen-year-old girls could figure that out. So Luc was never without female companionship, unless he chose to hang with his buddies.

      When Hattie came into his life, everything changed. She was different. She liked him, but his money didn’t interest her. At first, he thought her attitude might be a ploy to snag his attention. But as they got to know each other, he realized that she really didn’t give a damn that he was loaded.

      She expected thoughtfulness from him, attention to her likes and dislikes. She wanted him to know her. And that was something money couldn’t buy.

      It was only much, much later that he realized his money was actually a stumbling block.

      A faint noise made him turn his head. Hattie hovered in the doorway, her sun-streaked blond hair pulled back into a short ponytail, her feet bare. She was dressed as casually as he was.

      He patted the seat beside him. “Would you like more wine?” The upcoming conversation might flow more easily if she relaxed.

      She shook her head as she perched gingerly on the far end of the couch, tucking her legs beneath her. “No, thanks. Water would be nice.” Her toenails were painted pale pink. The sight of them did odd things to his gut.

      He went to the fridge behind the bar, extracted two Perriers and handed her one. As he sat back down, he allowed the careful distance she had created to remain between them. It meant she was nervous, and that gave him an edge. He handed her a slim white envelope. “We’ll start with this.” Inside were three credit cards with her soon-to-be name, Hattie Parker Cavallo, already imprinted.

      She extracted them with patent reluctance. “What are these?”

      He stretched an arm along the back of the sofa. “As my wife, you’ll need a large wardrobe. I entertain frequently, and I also travel often. When it’s feasible, I’d like you and Deedee to accompany me. In addition, I want you to outfit the nursery upstairs. I’ve put a selection of baby furniture catalogs in the desk drawer in your bedroom. Ana will show you the suite I picked out for Deedee. If it doesn’t meet with your approval, we’ll decide on another.”

      She paled, her eyes dark and haunted.

      He ground his teeth. “What’s wrong?”

      She shrugged helplessly. “I…I feel like you’re taking over my life. Like I’ve lost all control.”

      His fists clenched instinctively, and he had to force himself to relax. “I understood there was some sense of urgency to the situation…that we needed to back up your lie quickly.”

      “There is…and we do…but…”

      “But what? Do you disagree with any of the arrangements I’ve made thus far?”

      “No, of course not.”

      “Then I don’t understand the problem.”

      She jumped to her feet and paced. With her back to him, he could see the way the soft, worn jeans cupped her butt. It was a very nice butt. With an effort, he dragged his attention back to the current crisis.

      She whirled to face him. “I’m used to taking care of myself.” The words were almost a shout.

      Something inside him went still…crouched like a tiger in waiting. He feigned a disinterest he didn’t feel. “We don’t have to get married at all, Hattie. My team of lawyers loves going for the kill. Custody situations aren’t their usual fare, but with Eddie in self-destruct mode, it shouldn’t be too hard to convince a judge that you’re the obvious choice to raise Deedee.” He paused, risking everything on a gamble, a single toss of the dice. “Is that what you want?”

      Hattie pressed two fingers to the center of the forehead, clearly in pain. Her entire body language projected misery. “I want my sister back,” she said…and as he watched, tears spilled down her wan cheeks.

      He tried to leave her alone, he really did. But her heartbreak twisted something inside his chest. She didn’t protest when he took her in his arms, when he pulled the elastic band from her ponytail and stroked her hair, careful not to further hurt her injury.

      She felt fragile in his embrace, but he knew better. Her backbone was steel, her moral compass a straight arrow.

      The quiet sobs didn’t last long. He felt and sensed the moment she pulled herself together. She stiffened in his embrace. Though it went against his every inclination, he released her and returned to his seat on the sofa. He took a swig of sparkling water and waited her out.

      She studied a painting on the wall. It was a Vermeer he’d picked up at an auction in New York last year. The obscure work immortalized a young woman in her tiny boudoir as she bent at the waist to fasten her small shoe. The play of light on the girl’s graceful frame fascinated Luc. He’d bought it on a whim, but it had quickly become one of his favorite pieces. Impulse drove him at times—witness the way he’d agreed so quickly to this sham marriage.

      But in the end, his impulses usually served him well.

      He grew impatient. “I asked you a question, Hattie. Do you want this marriage? Tell me.”

      She