‘Justin says it’s because she’s never cut the umbilical cord. From the beginning he’s encouraged me to stand on my own two feet. It was his idea for me to play down the fact she
is
my mother so that any success we achieve is on our own merit.’
Lucas didn’t respond as Moira cleared away their plates to make way for coffee.
Becca poured for both and watched him stir sugar into his delicate china cup.
‘When was the last time you saw her?’
‘Almost four months...’ She paused at his look of shocked surprise. ‘I know, we’ve been so busy and she’s just returned to France from a fund raising tour of the States for the National Ballet, but I speak to her every other week.’
Her face flushed as she remembered her mother’s dismayed response when she’d told her she was pregnant. She still hadn’t told her the news it was twins.
‘You miss her?’
Becca nodded. ‘Very much. She wanted to fly out immediately, but Justin thinks it’s better to wait until I’ve got the all clear to travel.’
He frowned now in a way she’d come to recognise meant he was deep in thought. However, he didn’t respond to her statement.
‘
Querida
, I have a couple of telephone calls to make. Perhaps you would like to escape the house this afternoon?’
Indeed she would. ‘Where are we going?’
‘A walk around the park and perhaps a coffee? I know a little cafe which serves the best pastries in London.’
‘That would be nice.’
‘Give me an hour.’
She stood as he left, feeling strangely embarrassed. What must he think of her? All she’d done was talk about herself and not once had she asked about his life or his family.
As she ran up the stairs to shower and change, Becca promised herself that when they spent time together later she’d be less bloody self-centred.
Dressed in ancient jeans and a sweater, Lucas held her hand as they walked through the gates into Hyde Park.
After a leisurely stroll through the park, he led her to a smart cafe.
From the warm welcome they received by Seb, the owner, Lucas was well liked.
‘And what would your beautiful companion like?’ Seb asked Becca, his pen poised over his notebook.
Lucas’s beautiful companion surveyed the comprehensive coffee menu while the men chatted in rapid Spanish.
She caught Seb’s eye. ‘Can I have a non-fat, half-sweet, no-whip soy latte?’
‘And something to eat?’ His I-won’t-hold-my-breath tone made her smile.
Becca gave him big eyes. ‘Can I have the triple chocolate fudge cake with all the trimmings?’
She jumped as Seb roared with laughter.
Lucas’s dark eyes twinkled into hers as he ordered an Americano and the house special.
‘You have made his day,
querida
.’
‘I’m eating for three.’
His face paled and the atmosphere between them changed in an instant, becoming tense as the reality of their situation hit them hard.
He reached across the table, took her hands in his.
‘Are you scared?’
Their eyes tangled. ‘Terrified. You?’
He squeezed her fingers. ‘
Si
, the same.’
‘Are you good with babies?’
Dark eyes glittered into hers. ‘I have no idea. But I will be a good father.’
The ball she realised had been neatly tossed into her court.
‘You never speak about your family.’
‘We have had a lot going on,
querida
. What would you like to know?’
‘Do you have siblings?’
‘
Si
, I have a younger brother, Jacob.’
Seb broke the moment by delivering their coffees and cake. Becca’s eyes bugged out of her head at the gargantuan concoction of chocolate cake, fresh fruit, cream and ice-cream placed in front of her.
Pressing a shaky hand to her stomach she stared at Lucas.
‘I’ll never eat that.’
Seb winked at Lucas and left.
‘I believe he called your bluff,
querida
.’
She took a tentative forkful and closed her eyes as her taste buds signalled pure pleasure.
‘Oh my God.’ Her little moan of delight had Lucas shift in his seat and she recognised dark arousal in his eyes. ‘Sorry, I had to take a moment. What does Jacob do?’
He hesitated. His reluctance to open-up had her raise a questioning eyebrow. It was only fair. After all he’d been subtly pumping her for information for days.
‘He heads the family business.’ At her blank look he continued. ‘My family is the Ortiz Hotel group.’
Her fork clattered on the plate. ‘You mean...’
He sipped his coffee and those dark eyes melted into hers.
‘
Si
, my father is Don Norberto Juan Ortiz Conde Del Garda.’
At the intense look in his eyes, the palm of her hand pressed against her stomach. Dear God, he was one step down from a Spanish Prince. She didn’t want to appear presumptuous, but did he mean their children may inherit? But, that would mean marriage, or would it? Her heart skipped a beat.
‘But what are you saying? The children might...’
‘
Si
, they will inherit my title and my wealth.’
Becca might live in the creative bubble of the dance world, but that didn’t mean she was out of touch. However, she’d never realised that Lucas Del Garda, PR Guru and the Ortiz group, ruled by the famous Don Norberto Juan Ortiz, who owned five star hotels in the most exclusive resorts in the world were one and the same.
Her stomach clutched at the bleak look in his eyes.
‘Lucas?’
‘It also means that my father will insist that the children are legitimate and brought up as Del Garda.’
And Lucas didn’t look particularly happy at the prospect of being married to her. Who could blame him? It would mean an end to his hectic lifestyle. And wasn’t she getting a little ahead of herself? These days it wasn’t unusual for wealthy men to father children out of wedlock, it happened all the time. After all Lucas was an adult. Surely it was up to him to decide whether he would marry not his father?
Her brow creased. To be honest she wasn’t sure how she felt about marrying again. Her own background was one of privilege. She knew she’d been lucky. But she preferred the simple life. Society parties, the press, the gossip and the intrigue that went along with it held no allure for her. Lucas lived in a world of paparazzi and screaming headlines.
Although come to think of it, he’d taken her to a local bistro for dinner, not to any of the top restaurants or clubs where the paps lurked. She frowned. He hadn’t introduced her to any of his friends either. Perhaps he was embarrassed about his situation and who could blame him?
Another thought occurred to her and her eyes met his.
‘Have you told your father?’
‘Not yet. It is one of the things you and I must discuss.’
Indeed it was.
Something like panic unfurled in her stomach. ‘I told you I need time to come to terms with this.’
‘
Si,
and I agree. However, I do not want my family to discover I am to be a father via the tabloids. It is simply a matter of time before someone talks,
querida
.’
Relief on the one hand that he wasn’t ashamed of her mixed with the feeling she was being cornered by a very clever and successful manipulator stiffened her spine and made her voice cold.
‘Don’t play me, Lucas. Why don’t you spit it out?’
Those dark eyes watched her now with an intensity that a couple of weeks ago she’d found arousing and now discovered was terribly intimidating.
He took a deep breath and edged closer.
‘I want you to consider marrying me.’
How romantic was her first response.
‘No,’ was her second wondering why she felt so devastated and disappointed.
Lucas merely shunted his chair closer, those dark eyes never left her face.
‘Then we have a problem because my children cannot be bastards.’ He leaned forward now, dark eyes burning into hers. ‘Think about it. We are very good together, compatible in a way that matters in a marriage,’ he told her in a low but passionate voice alluding to the reason they found themselves in this position in the first place.
What? A marriage was so much more than sex. Although he’d hardly been beating a path to her bedroom had he? And whose fault was that? her conscience demanded.
Becca leaned in, too aware of their surroundings and the people in it.
She kept her eyes on his and whispered back, ‘What are you talking about? You haven’t laid a finger on me or made a move.’
His eyes went wide as he stared at her.
‘That is because I have been considering your feelings. You said you wanted space. Why do you think I sleep in a separate room? Why do you think I work late into the night?’
Staring into those fathomless dark eyes Becca read the simple truth. He still wanted her. He still desired her. Vivid memories, too fresh, of needy nights filled with erotic dreams of frustrated lust, of tossing and turning desperate for his touch, his kiss, had her fight the overwhelming urge to smack him.
Why hadn’t he said anything?
Then the answer hit her.
‘In an attempt to keep me relaxed and stress free?’ she asked in a savage whisper.
He nodded once and responded in kind, ‘I am doing my best,
querida
, but I am only human.’
‘Tell me about it,’ she shot back. ‘You’ve had me at a constant state of arousal for weeks with your little touches, holding my hand and stroking my arm. You need to learn the art of communication.’
Insulted, Lucas sat back as if she’d slapped him. And she supposed she might well have done since he headed up a top PR firm and communication was his bread and butter.
Leaning forward his dark eyes clashed with hers.
‘I am an excellent communicator. Also ...’ He made a lightening scan of the room and looking very serious now, his eyes met hers as he whispered, ‘Also, I have never made love to a pregnant woman before. I am a big man. I might hurt the babies.’
Becca clapped a hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking as an unholy mirth flooded her eyes.
God bless him.
What the hell was he like?
But by the look of hurt, confusion and sheer outrage crossing that fabulous face she’d deeply offended him.
Poor Lucas, he’d opened up his heart to her, articulated his deepest fear and she’d done nothing but laugh at him.
Using her napkin to dab her eyes, Becca gripped his hand across the table.
‘No, don’t be embarrassed. Please, Lucas, I’m not laughing
at
you.’
‘
Si
, you are.’
‘No, I’m not. You’re such a sweetie.’
Sheer disgust curled his lip. ‘What the hell does that mean?’
His tone made her shoulders shake again.
Her eyes stayed on his as she clung to his hand. ‘It means you are a very nice man.’
‘Nice?’ If anything he looked even more incensed.
Shaking her head, Becca forked a piece of the cake on her plate and as a peace offering offered him a taste.
‘How about amazing? Is that acceptable to your colossal ego?’
A reluctant humour entered his dark eyes as he opened his mouth, tasted and swallowed.
‘
Si
, it is better than sweet or nice.’ He took another bite, did his signature shrug. ‘I have much to learn.’
A gentle wave of affection for him washed through her.
‘Nature ensures babies are as snug as a bug in a rug and well protected.’
He nodded as he narrowed his eyes. ‘You do not quite trust me. Do you, Becca?’
She had no idea where that had come from. The entire conversation was beginning to feel a bit like truth or dare. But something bothering her for a while surfaced.
‘You thought I was married and yet you still wanted to see me.’
Heat soared into his cheeks but his eyes remained on hers.
‘Not my proudest moment,
querida
. I have a rule never to touch a woman who is married. In my defence as soon as I saw you I wanted you. And if you are honest you felt it too, that connection.’
‘It’s only chemistry, lust.’
‘Damn right it is. We shared something very special that night.’
‘And since?’
He didn’t attempt not to understand her. ‘I have not been with another woman.’
‘Not even Willow Bailey?’
Annoyance lit his dark eyes. ‘I told you she was a client. Unfortunately, she believed she was the exception to the rule.’
‘So you’re saying it’s all in her head?’
His deep sigh was heartfelt. ‘She is a beautiful woman. Talented, needy and temperamental who does not take rejection well.’
She knew that was the simple truth.
Another issue entered her head and made her voice cool.
‘Your proposal just now was not exactly romantic.’
Now black brows winged into his hairline even as his eyes, filled with something wicked and lustful, glittered into hers and had her pulse hammering in her throat.
She didn’t miss the hot flare of desire either.
‘You want romance, Rebecca?’ he purred, rolling the R in her name in a way that brought a hectic flush to her cheeks. ‘Do you think you are ready?’
Was she?
His thumb stroked the sensitive part of her palm, round and round sending a scorching spear of arousal to her core, evidently – her brain had packed its suitcase and gone to Timbuktu because she couldn’t think. Taking a shaky breath, she freed her hand.
The time had come to make a choice.
Lucas had been nothing but kind, putting her needs before his own and she’d been selfish, too tied up with her own shock and concerns to realise that he may be experiencing the same anxieties.
He was a man who faced his fears she realised. He confronted them head on and moved ahead. It wasn’t difficult to read the uncertainty and anxiety in his dark eyes when he spoke of the babies sleeping in her belly. And his priority had been for their safety, to protect, to care for them and for her.
If Becca followed her instincts it would be to give him a chance. She knew she was deeply attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be attracted to a man with the face and body of a Greek God? However, it wasn’t just his looks - Lucas was indeed, as Margo said, one of the good guys. Astonished she felt so much for him, she lifted her hand to his face, her fingertips tracing his sinful mouth.