Barbara Dunlop - New Arrivals - His Inherited Family

Lucas turned and braced himself against the painted, yellow wall in the small entry, leaving eighteen inches or so between them. He was disappointed that she’d lie outright. Then again, what did he know about her?

“Steve was here,” he stated.

She didn’t answer.

“Is that the way you want to play this?” he persisted. “Are you going to look me square in the eyes and lie?”

Her expression faltered for a second, but she blinked her long lashes over her deep blue eyes, camouflaging her feelings. “What are you doing here?”

“Tell me what he wanted. Did he plead his case? Try to make a deal?” If Lucas understood Steve’s tactics, he’d be in a better position to counteract them.

“You’re not making sense.”

He pinned her with a glare. “I saw his car.”

“You were spying on me?”

“No.” In point of fact, he’d been spying on Steve. “I was not spying on you. But I know he was here, and I want to know what he told you.”

Opening a manufacturing plant in South America was not a decision to be taken lightly. Steve would have given her a rosy profit picture and glossed over all the risks. It made Lucas crazy that he had to justify his international corporate strategy to a woman whose sole business experience was in autographing her trite, self-help books for the lovelorn.

Devin gave her head a little shake, her short, wispy, brunette hair moving ever so slightly with the motion. “It’s none of your business.”

Lucas felt his blood pressure rise. “So, you admit he was here.”

“That’s also none of your business.”

“Damn it, Devin,” he shouted.

A baby’s cry sounded from farther inside the house.

Devin smacked the palm of her hand against the end of the open door. “Now see what you’ve done?”

Lucas instantly realized Amelia was here.

Of course Amelia was here. She lived here.

Devin turned on her heel and swished into the living room on bare feet, her faded jeans clinging to a shapely rear end. Lucas ignored the view. Instead, he took the opportunity to close the door and follow her inside the house. He wasn’t leaving without answers.

Devin reemerged into the living room, a red-faced, blubbering and soggy-looking Amelia tucked over one shoulder. Her hand rubbed up and down the baby’s back as she snarled at Lucas. “Thanks tons.”

“I didn’t know she was sleeping.”

“It’s three in the afternoon. What did you think she’d be doing? “

Lucas didn’t have a clue, and it seemed pointless to venture a guess. “If you’ll just tell me what Steve said.”

Amelia’s cries grew louder, and Devin began jiggling her. “You have a lot of nerve, Lucas Demarco. Barging in here—”

“Steve has a lot of nerve sneaking around behind my back.”

She stilled. “He offered to help me.” Lucas snorted out a cold laugh. “Steve’s never helped anybody his entire life.”

Amelia shrieked, nearly piercing Lucas’s eardrums. He cut her an annoyed glance. “Can’t you do something to—”

To his shock, Devin plopped the baby against his chest.

He automatically reached out to grasp the child beneath her arms, leaving her dangling out of the way of his clean suit. “What the…”

“You try,” said Devin.

Amelia took one look at Lucas’s face and opened her mouth to bawl. Her eyes scrunched shut, tears squeezing out the corners, and her face turned brighter red as the decibels increased.

Devin headed for the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Lucas cried, embarrassed by the high pitch to his voice. “To get her a bottle.”

“But—” The baby squirmed against his grip, but he was afraid to hold her closer. Her nose was running, and shiny drool was smeared across her chin.

He was wearing a Savile Row suit, for pity’s sake.

Then she suddenly stopped howling. She stiffened. Her face scrunched up, and a horrible rumble emanated from her little body. The stench that filled the air nearly made him gag. He breathed shallowly, through his mouth, glancing frantically around the room for a place to put her down.

Thankfully, Devin emerged from the kitchen.

“That’s a good girl,” she cooed, shooting Lucas a glare, retrieving the baby and cuddling her close, barely flinching at the smell.

Lucas took a very large step backward, silently acknowledging Devin’s fortitude.

“Do you need a change, sweetheart?” she asked the baby.

Lucas thought fumigation might be more in order. But when Devin laid Amelia on her back on the floor and reached for a bright blue diaper bag, all he could think about was escaping.

He darted toward an open window.

“Would you like to change her?” Devin asked sweetly.

Lucas’s jaw dropped open. He could probably count on one hand the number of times in his life he’d been rendered speechless. But this was one of them.

“Since you’re going for sole custody,” Devin continued, “you might as well get in some practice.”

“She’ll have a nanny,” he pointed out.

Devin tugged off Amelia’s stretchy pink pants, revealing a white diaper. “You don’t plan to change her diapers?”

Lucas turned away, gazing across the wooden deck and the sloped lawn to the calm waters of the lake. Devin’s neighbor had a dock with a sleek speedboat tied up. A few dozen houses were visible along the curve of the shoreline, front yards neatly landscaped, while evergreens covered the hillsides behind. It was actually quite beautiful here.

“Lucas?” Devin prompted.

“I don’t expect it to be necessary,” he said, answering her question. There was a very good reason why nannies were invented.

“There’s a girl,” Devin cooed, and Lucas dared to look back to where Amelia stood on chubby bare feet, hand grasping Devin’s hair for balance.

Devin tucked away the change pad and handed Amelia a bottle of juice. The baby promptly plunked down on her fresh diaper and popped the bottle in her mouth.

“Why do you want custody?” Devin asked, coming to her feet, brushing her palms across her backside and finger-combing her hair where Amelia had mussed it. Her T-shirt was wrinkled, and several damp spots dotted its front. It was no wonder she went for plain, serviceable clothing. He could only imagine the havoc Amelia would wreak on linen and silk.

Still, the plain clothing couldn’t hide her gorgeous figure. She was short, maybe five-five. And the absence of heels made her seem even shorter. But her legs were lithe and toned, her waist nipped in and breasts rounded and in perfect proportion to everything else.

He didn’t know what she did for exercise, but it was working.

“You don’t seem particularly interested in Amelia,” Devin continued.

“She’s a Demarco.” “So?”

“So, I have a responsibility—” “Can’t you at least be honest?”

“I am being honest.” He owed it to his brother to keep Amelia safe. If Lucas had died with a daughter in such a vulnerable position, he’d expect no less of Konrad.

“You want her ten percent of Pacific Robotics, Lucas, controlling interest. You don’t give one whit about Amelia as a person.”

“You’re dead wrong about that.”

“I’ll do whatever you ask for the company,” she pledged. “I promise I won’t interfere.”

He wished he could believe her. “What did Steve say?” “I can’t tell you that.”

Lucas threw up his hands. “I know what he said.” He’d offered her a deal. If she won guardianship of Amelia, Steve would make it worth her while to support his plans for expansion into South America.

“Then why ask me?”

“I wanted to know if I could trust you.”

She moved closer. “You’re lying. You’ll never trust me. You wanted information to use against me.”