Brazilian's Nine Months' Notice

‘Changed?’ He frowned as he secured his belt. ‘Changed into what?’

‘From arrogant and distant, to loving and...’

When was she going to stop this? When was she going to wake up and realise that Luc didn’t share the hopeless romanticism in her psyche?

Also, she was hormonal. And right now she was riding a wave of euphoria that came after making love, while Luc had had sex with her and his head was perfectly clear.

‘Oh, I don’t know...’

‘You said loving?’ he prompted with a frown.

He’d pick up that one careless word. ‘Loving as in...not so controlling?’ she suggested, trying to make light of what had been a dangerously careless remark.

As Luc helped her to her feet, she had to remind herself that he didn’t do love. But she did. More fool her.

She brushed herself down while Luc stared back at the lights of the party. It was time to go.

‘What’s wrong?’ he said when she hesitated.

‘Nothing.’ And this was the man she had briefly thought so tender and caring? Not even a kiss or a touch to reassure her now. She had a lot to learn about the complex man that was Lucas Marcelos, but doubted she would ever get that chance—‘Ready?’ she said brightly, starting back to the marquee.

CHAPTER TWELVE

LUC’S SMILE MADE her wary. Step one had been achieved as far as he was concerned. Emma was in Brazil. Step two had also been a success. He’d had her. Why would he have any reason to suppose she’d want to go anywhere until he’d done with her? Sex was sensational between them. Luc was a tireless lover who enjoyed bringing her pleasure. What woman wouldn’t want to be with a man like that?

Just don’t go looking for Luc’s heart, because you’ll be looking for a long time.

She knew that. Sex was essentially a sport for Luc. He used it to exert control over her, or so he thought. Setting her sights on her goal, which was the marquee and uncomplicated fun with Luc’s sister, she barred herself from looking back at him.

He caught up with her, and standing in front of her he stopped her going anywhere. ‘Excuse me, please. I’m already late for the party.’

‘Late?’ He frowned.

‘Okay. Very late. Will you please let me pass?’

‘You’re not just very late,’ he said, humour lighting up his eyes, ‘Your hair’s a mess, your legs are covered in sand.’ He shrugged as he plucked some foliage from her hair. ‘And, if I’m not mistaken,’ he said, leaning close, ‘you’re also mad at me. Now, why can that be?’

Could it be because you’re so cold-hearted?

Reaching out, Luc took his fingertips on a feathery trail down her face to her lips where his fingertip lingered. ‘Don’t be angry, Emma. We’ll go in to the party together. I don’t think there are many secrets at the hotel,’ he added, confirming her own thoughts on that subject. ‘You’re in the apartment next to mine, waiting to give birth to my child. No one knows you’re pregnant yet, but you won’t be able to hide it for very much longer.’

‘Even so, my independence is vital to me.’

‘Independence was vital to you before the baby came along.’ Luc’s voice had gained an edge. ‘But now you have other concerns, I would have thought.’

‘I do have other concerns.’ His implication that she was being selfish made her mad. ‘You really will stop at nothing. And I’ll say it one more time. I will not become your mistress.’

Luc responded with a dismissive gesture. ‘That’s fine by me. Pay your own way. Work all you want to. In fact, I insist you work—just not the hours you worked in Scotland. You’re too valuable an asset, as far as my company is concerned, for me to allow your talents to go to waste. But the child will be supported by both of us.’

Luc’s eyes had turned stony. His expression scared her. ‘How will that work?’

‘I’ll plug any gaps you leave.’ His eyes drilled into hers as if hunting for signs of weakness.

He’d find none, she determined, though the gaps Luc referred to would be huge compared to his thick bankroll. She couldn’t hope to compete with the type of life he seemed determined to give his child.

‘For once in your life agree, and be thankful, Emma.’

He hadn’t really changed at all. ‘Thankful?’ she said quietly, feeling that all their closeness had been destroyed. ‘You make me feel as if I come to you like a beggar—and that what I can provide will never be enough for our child.’