Brazilian's Nine Months' Notice

She made no comment.

‘What do you fancy?’

‘I was just going to buy some food and take it back to my room. I’ll embarrass you looking like this.’

‘Deus, Emma. You’re not the only person who works for a living. What do you have to be embarrassed about?’

She had no answer for him. This was a new side to Luc, and one she found hard not to like, but they had never really talked before, she realised. She really was a hopeless case. She didn’t even know the man who was the father of her child. She didn’t know where he stood about anything, beyond being considerate towards his staff. Luc didn’t know her either. As her ex-employer, he knew the bones of her life story and no more. She was no stranger to Luc’s efficient business manner, and as a woman in his bed she’d heard him swear and coax and laugh, but nothing more than that.

‘Are you warm enough?’ he asked when she shivered.

He didn’t wait for her to answer. He just turned the heating up. If he hadn’t been sitting next to her, she might have pinched some colour into her cheeks—or, better still, slapped them to wake up to the danger she was courting. How long was she going to wait before she told him? Should she do it now in the car—or in a café over a cup of tea? She had no time to think about this as Luc was already parking.

‘We can walk from here,’ he said.

Coming round to the passenger door, he insisted on helping her out. This new considerate Luc was a revelation, and she liked him. Too much.

The pavements had been gritted, and they were able to walk down the High Street at a brisk pace, past the familiar boutiques full of Scottish wares and trinkets. She flashed glances through the windows as she passed, as if to reassure herself that this was safe, this was home, and that nothing bad could ever happen here.

But it had. The car crash that had killed her parents had happened not a mile away—

‘This okay for you?’

Luc had stopped outside the steamed-up windows of a café, she realised, quickly gathering her shattered senses. ‘This is ideal.’ It was. By some fluke, Luc had stopped outside her favourite café. He held the door for her, and the heat and appetising smells of home cooking instantly surrounded her, luring her in. She was surprised by his choice, but glad of it. It was a straightforward, no-frills café, where she wouldn’t feel awkward dressed as she was, and where the food was all freshly prepared from local produce and delicious.

Needless to say, Luc created a wave of interest from the moment he walked in. Even casually dressed, he stood out. No one had expected to have their breakfast interrupted by such a striking-looking man. Tall, hard-muscled, and tanned, he looked like an inhabitant from another planet where the sun shone more than once a year, and all the men were titans. Then the customers noticed Emma, which provoked an even bigger rustle of interest.

‘What are you smiling at?’ Luc demanded as they sat down.

‘You chatting to people,’ she remarked, having been surprised that Luc had exchanged greetings with quite a few people she knew.

‘I’ve been in town awhile, and I have business here.’

And she’d seen this side of him at work, Emma remembered. Luc was naturally interested in people, which explained why he was so successful in the hospitality industry. But there was something else about his choice of café that surprised her too. ‘You seem so at home, sitting on a plastic chair at a Formica-topped table,’ she said wryly. ‘Are you sure this isn’t just to indulge me?’

‘The food’s the best here—I’ve tried it before. And I’m a human being just like you. I’m not some distant potentate, living in an ivory tower.’

No. Luc had a selection of ivory, she thought as he held up his hands in mock surrender.

‘Do you always order for your guests?’ she asked, after he’d ordered them both breakfast.

‘When they look as tired as you do? Yes, I do. Don’t fight it, Emma. Save your powder for the important battles ahead of you.’

She shrank inside at his words. It was as if he knew.

‘This is only breakfast,’ Luc was pointing out. ‘If you want to change anything I’ve ordered, just ask the waitress. Or I will.’

‘No. What you’ve ordered is fine. Thank you.’

‘But next time ask me?’ he suggested with an amused look. ‘So...’ He sat back. ‘What shall we talk about while we wait for our breakfast to arrive?’

Her cheeks went fiery red. Short of hanging a notice around her neck plastered with the word ‘baby’, she couldn’t think how she could look guiltier than she felt.