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They stood facing each other in the sunlit park, just inches away, not touching. He dimly heard birds sing in the trees above, the distant traffic of tour buses at the Eiffel Tower, the laughter of children at the merry-go-round.
“I was so sure you would return to me,” he heard himself say in a low voice. “But you never did.”
Her green eyes scorched through his heart. Then, in a voice almost too quiet to hear, she said, “I...couldn’t.”
“I know.” Before he even realized what he was doing, he’d reached out a hand to her cheek.
Her skin was even softer than he remembered. He felt her shiver beneath his touch, and his body ignited. He wanted to take her in his arms, against his body, to kiss her hard and never let go.
Just moments before, he’d felt admiration about how she’d sacrificed the pleasure they might have had together, in order to pursue her true dreams. But in this instant, all those rational considerations were swept aside. He searched her gaze. “Did you ever wonder what we could have had?”
A shadow crossed her face.
“Of course I did.”
He barely heard the noises around them, the soft coo of the baby, the chatter around them in a multitude of languages as tourists strolled by.
He’d missed her.
Not just her housekeeping skills. Nor even her sensual body.
Emma Hayes was the only woman he’d ever trusted. The only one he’d ever let himself care about, since the nightmare of his marriage so long ago.
Standing with Emma in this park in the center of Paris, Cesare would have given a million euros to see her smile at him the way she used to. To hear her voice gently mocking him, teasing him, putting him politely but firmly in his place. They’d had their own private language, he saw that now, and he suddenly realized how unusual that was. How special and rare.
No one called him on his arrogance anymore. No one else could challenge him with a single dimpled smile. No one kept him on his toes. Kept him breathless with longing.
He’d found a different housekeeper to keep his kitchen stocked and do his laundry. Perhaps, someday, he’d find a woman equally alluring to fill his bed. But who could fill the void that Emma had left in his life?
She’d been more than his housekeeper. More than his lover. She’d been his friend.
His hand moved down her neck to her shoulder. He felt her warmth through the soft pink fabric of her blouse.
“Come back to London with me,” he said suddenly.
She blinked, then, glancing at her baby, she licked her lips. Her voice seemed hoarse as she asked, “Why?”
Cesare hesitated. If there was one thing he’d learned in life, it was that a man should never show weakness. Not even with a woman. Especially not with a woman. “The housekeeper I hired to replace you has been unsatisfactory.”
“Oh.” With a sigh, she looked down. “Sorry. I am working for someone else now. He’s been good to me. I have no desire to leave him.”
I have no desire to leave him. Cesare didn’t like the sound of those words. He had a sudden surge of irrational jealousy for this unknown employer. He glanced back at the stroller. And who was this baby?
He said only, “I’ll pay double what you’re paid now.”
Emma’s eyes hardened. “We’ve already had this conversation, haven’t we? I won’t work for you at any price. It’s not a question of money. We want different things. And we always will. You made that painfully clear to me in London.”
The dark-haired baby gave an unhappy whimper from the stroller. Going down on one knee, she grabbed a pacifier from a big canvas bag and gave it to the baby, who instantly cheered up. She looked at the plump-cheeked, dark-eyed baby, then slowly rose to her feet, facing Cesare.
“Don’t come looking for me again. Because nothing is going to change. And all you will bring us—all of us—is unhappiness.”
Who was this baby? The question pounded in his heart. Her employer’s? Emma’s? But he couldn’t ask. To ask the question would imply that he cared.
She stared at him for a moment, then turned away.
“I don’t want you as my housekeeper,” he said in a low voice. “The truth is...I miss you.”
She looked back at him with an intake of breath, her lovely face stricken. She glanced at the baby in the stroller, who was simultaneously sucking like crazy on the pacifier, and trying to reach for his own feet. “I have other responsibilities now.”
Cesare followed her gaze. The baby looked familiar somehow....
“I need a man I can trust. One I can count on to be permanent in my life. An equal partner. A father...for my baby.”
For a moment, Cesare stared at her. Then as the meaning of her words sunk in, he literally staggered back. “Your baby?”
Emma nodded. Her eyes looked troubled, her expression filled with worry.
He could understand why.
“So much for all your big dreams,” he ground out. “You left me for the wedding ring and the white picket fence.” He couldn’t control the bitterness in his voice as he flung his arm toward her bare left hand. “Where is your ring?”
“My baby’s father didn’t want to marry me,” she said quietly.
“So you gave yourself away to some playboy? Someone who couldn’t even give what I offered?” Jealousy raced through him. Once again, the woman he’d wanted, the one he’d chosen—had thrown herself away on another man. His hands curled into fists and he took a deep breath, regaining control. “I thought better of you.” He lifted his chin. “So who is the father? Let me guess. Your new boss?”
“No,” she said in a low voice. Slowly she lifted her eyes to his. “My old one.”
He snorted. “Your old—”
Cesare gave an intake of breath as he looked down at the chubby black-haired baby.
I don’t need a wedding proposal. He heard the echo of her trembling voice from long ago. Or for you to say you’re ready to be a father. I just need to know you might want those things someday. That you might be open to the possibility...if something ever...
And he’d told her no. Flat-out. Either this is a fun diversion, a friendship with benefits, or it’s nothing.
I’m going to have a baby, she’d said then. He’d thought she was trying to pin down his future. He hadn’t realized she’d been talking about the present.
Cesare stared down at the baby’s familiar black eyes—the same eyes he looked at every day in the mirror—and his knees nearly gave way beneath him.
“It’s me,” he breathed. “I’m the father.”
CHAPTER FIVE (#u0281b894-9c79-5ca5-9a69-de3d94e932a1)
EMMA’S HEART POUNDED as she waited for Cesare’s reaction.
She couldn’t believe this was happening. For the past ten months, she’d dreamed of this. She’d thought of him constantly as their baby grew inside her. The day Sam was born. And every day since.
But now, she was afraid.
Alain Bouchard had been a wonderful boss to Emma, looking out for her almost like a brother through the months of her pregnancy and the sleepless nights beyond. But Alain hated Cesare, his former brother-in-law, blaming him for his sister Angélique’s death. For ten months, Emma had waited for this day to come, for Cesare to find out about the baby—and the identity of her employer.
Over the past year, as she walked through the streets of Paris doing Alain’s errands, shopping for fresh fruit and meats in the outdoor market on the Rue Cler, whenever she’d seen a tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired man, she held her breath. But it was never Cesare. He hated Paris. It was partly why she’d chosen this job.
So today, when she’d seen a tall, dark-haired man pacing across the park, looking around with a strange desperation, she’d forced herself to ignore her instincts, because they were always wrong. She’d simply sat on the bench as her baby dozed in his stroller, and felt the warmth of the September sun on her skin. It had been almost a year since she’d last seen Cesare’s face, since she’d last felt his touch. So much had happened. Their baby was no longer a tiny newborn. Sam had grown into a roly-poly four-month-old who could sleep seven hours at a stretch and loved to smile and laugh. Already, she could see his Italian heritage in his black eyes, the Falconeri blood.
But still, as Emma sat in the park, she hadn’t been able to look away from the dark-haired man in a tailored suit, who seemed out of place as he stomped down the path, gulping down a coffee. She’d told herself her imagination was working overtime. It absolutely was not Cesare.
Then he’d walked past her, barking into his cell phone. She saw his face, heard his voice. And time stood still.
Then, without thought, she’d reacted, leaping to her feet, calling his name.
Now, as she looked up at him, the world seemed to spin, the tourists and trees and dark outline of the Eiffel Tower a blur against the sky. There was Cesare. Only Cesare.
For so long, she’d craved him, heart and soul. Cried for him at night, for the awful choice she’d had to make. He’d told her outright he didn’t want a child, but she’d still struggled with whether she’d made an unforgivable mistake, not telling him. Twice she’d even picked up the phone.
Now he was just inches away from her, close enough to touch. All throughout their conversation, she’d glanced at their baby out of the corner of her eye. How could he not instantly see the resemblance? How could he not see little Sam in the stroller, and know?
Well, Cesare knew now.
“I’m the father,” he breathed, looking from Sam to her.
“Yes.” Emma felt a thrill in her heart even as a chill of fear went down her spine. “He’s yours.”
Cesare’s dark eyes were shocked, his voice hoarse. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I...”
“How could you not tell me?” Pacing back two steps, he clawed back his dark hair. Whirling back to face her, he accused, “You knew you were pregnant when you left London.”
She nodded. His dark eyes were filled with fury.
“You lied to me.”
“I didn’t exactly lie. I said I was going to have a baby....”
He sucked in his breath, then glared at her. “I thought you meant someday. And you let me believe that. So you lied.”
She licked her lips. “I wanted to tell you...”
“You were never on the Pill.”
“I never said I was!”
His eyes narrowed. “You said—”
“I said I couldn’t get pregnant,” she cut him off. “I didn’t think I could. When I was a teenager, I was—very sick—and my doctor said future pregnancy might be difficult, if not impossible. I never thought I could...” She lifted her gaze to his and whispered, “It’s a miracle. Can’t you see that? Our baby is a miracle.”
“A miracle.” Cesare glowered at her. “And you never thought you should share the miracle with me?”
“I wanted to. More than you can imagine.” Emma set her jaw. “But you made it absolutely clear you didn’t want a family.”
“Did you get pregnant on purpose?” he demanded. “To force me to marry you?”
Emma couldn’t help herself. She laughed in his face.
“Why are you laughing?” he said dangerously.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were making a joke.”
“This isn’t a joke!”
“No. It isn’t. But you are!” she snapped, losing patience.
He blinked as his mouth fell open.
She took a deep calming breath, blowing a tendril of hair off her hot forehead. “I’ve gone out of my way not to trap you. I’m raising this baby completely on my own. I wouldn’t marry you even if you asked me!”
“Really?”
She stiffened, remembering that she had indeed once yearned to marry him—even hinted at it aloud! Her cheeks burned with humiliation. She lifted her chin. “Maybe once I was stupid enough to want that, but I’ve long since realized you’d make a horrible husband. No sane woman would want to marry a man like you.”
“A man like me,” he repeated. He looked irritated. “So you’d rather be a housekeeper, slaving for wages, instead of a billionaire’s wife?” He snorted. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”
She glared back at him. “And do you really believe I’d want to sell myself to some man who doesn’t love me, when I can support myself and my child through honest work?”
“He’s not just your child.”
“You don’t want him. You said so in London. Right to my face.”
“That was different. You made it sound like a choice. You didn’t tell me the decision was already made.” He folded his arms, six feet three inches of broad-shouldered masculine stubbornness. “I want him tested. To have DNA evidence he’s my child.”
She ground her teeth. “You don’t believe me?”
“The woman who swore she couldn’t get pregnant? No.”
Ooh. She stamped her foot. “I’m not having Sam pricked with a needle for some dumb DNA test. If you don’t believe me, if you think I might have been sleeping around and now I’m lying just for kicks, then forget about us. Just leave. We’ll do fine without you.”
He clenched his hands at his sides. “You should have told me!”
“I tried to, but when I started hinting at the idea of a child, you nearly fainted with fear!”
“I absolutely did not faint—” he began furiously.
“You did! From the moment I found out I was pregnant, I wanted to tell you. Of course I wanted to tell you. What do you take me for? My parents were married straight out of high school and loved each other until my mom died. That’s what people do in my hometown. Get married and stay married. Buy a home and raise a family. Do you honestly think—” Emma’s voice grew louder, causing nearby people in the park to look at them “—that I wanted to be a single mother? That this is something I chose?”
Cesare looked astonished, his sensual lips slightly parted, his own tirade forgotten. Then he scowled.
“Don’t even try to—”
