Jacey was surprised to wake in a cocoon of silky sheets. She was also surprised to feel the warm, heavy hand covering hers. She yawned and stretched, allowing her gaze to follow the hand to the dark sprinkling of hair along the very masculine, very well-corded bronze arm connected to it. She jolted into full awareness the moment she ascertained the identity of the man sleeping in the chair next to her bed.

Luca!

The memory of her near escape at the airport flooded back. He’d flat out refused to drive her home, insisting she stay with someone who could look after her for the weekend. She hadn’t expected him to volunteer himself for the task. She gazed at the dark, heavy furniture in the massive room that was the size of her entire apartment. Was this his master suite? Because that would mean she’d been sleeping in his bed.

Heat stole along her cheekbones as she sat up and squinted at him. With his long legs crossed in front of him and his expression relaxed in sleep, he looked like a very different man than the one who’d waylaid her at the airport. Gone was his suit and tie and overbearing demeanor. In the dim light pouring from the half-open door on the other side of the room, she could make out a dark t-shirt hugging the delicious contours of his chest. It tapered to a narrow waist encased in faded jeans.

Um…wow!

He was even more gorgeous out of a suit than in one. She swallowed hard and forced her gaze back to his face. An evening shadow turned his firm jaw rugged, and the hank of hair lying across his forehead made her think of Easton’s ever-tousled appearance. She wanted to reach over and smooth it back from his face.

But it wasn’t her place. Only look, don’t touch. He’s not Easton.

It suddenly struck her how much the two brothers resembled each other. Not Luca’s usual suited version but rather this less slicked up version. In jeans and a t-shirt, he looked so much like the careless, laughing Easton she remembered that it made her heart ache. They shared the same bronze skin tone and basic familial facial structure, but that’s where their similarities ended. In every other area, Luca was bigger, broader, and harder.

She didn’t realize she was squeezing his hand until his eyelids snapped open.

He sat up in the armchair, rubbing his eyes. “How do you feel? Are you in any pain?”

“Do you interrogate all your patients the moment they wake up, doc?” She tossed her hair over her shoulder.

“Only on Saturdays,” he shot back.

She scowled at him. “I demand a shower and a toothbrush first. Then we’ll talk.”

“I’d like that, Jacey. Thank you” The humble timbre in his voice caught her off guard. She’d never seen the please and thank you side of him before.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Uncle Luca. I can’t promise to tell you what you want to hear, and I absolutely will not promise to continue living in this city.”

Unless she was mistaken, fear leaped across his features as she spoke. His grip on her hand tightened, but he loosened it when he saw her wince.

“I’m sorry, princesa. For everything.”

Another apology? She made a face at him, not knowing what to say.

“You look rested. How do you feel?” He sounded genuinely anxious.

Vulnerable and exposed with the way you’re looking at me, not that I’m going to admit that to you. Wait a blessed minute! Speaking of exposed… She peeked beneath the sheets and blushed with all the blood she had left in her. She was wearing a thick, white bathrobe that didn’t belong to her! Yanking the sheet back around her, she ground out through clenched teeth, “Where is my dress?”

“My housekeeper is laundering it,” he assured, a slightly elevated color staining his own cheekbones. “She insisted on changing you and making you more comfortable.”

The glance they exchanged was charged with tension. That was when she noticed how weary he looked. There were lines under his eyes and scruff on his jaw.

His weariness didn’t keep him from jumping to his feet when she dropped her feet over the side of the bed. He reached for her hands. “Here. Let me.”

She swallowed and wrapped the borrowed robe more tightly around her before allowing him to assist her down from the bed.

His fingers wrapped around hers, warm and firm and steady, making her feel all delicate and feminine…and cherished. All she needed to do was take one more step forward and she would be able to lean into his strength, to rest her head on one of his broad shoulders.

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut for a moment to block out such a crazy thought.

“Are you feeling well, carina?” he asked quickly.

Her eyelids snapped open. “I’m fine.” Just pregnant and hormonal and way too attracted to you for my own good.

“Well, then. Your shower awaits, princesa.” He gave her a mock, courtly bow and motioned her towards a door on the opposite end of the suite. Whether purposefully or not, he continued to stand directly in her path.

They stared at each other for an emotion-charged moment. “Do you need something else?” he asked huskily.

It had to be the hormones at work, because she wanted his arms around her so badly she could hardly think straight. She wanted his lips on hers again. She wanted… Stop! What she wanted was completely foolish. He’d proven that already, kissing her one afternoon and a different woman the next. His only lasting interest in her surrounded the unborn child in her belly and nothing more. She’d be wise to remember that.

“I’m fine,” she repeated firmly. “If you’ll excuse me.” And move out of my way, please, before I do something to embarrass myself. Like throw myself in your arms…

He lingered in front of her a few heartbeats longer. “Would you like me to call Merl to assist you?”

A servant to assist me? Seriously? “I’m fine, Luca. Being pregnant doesn’t make me an invalid.” Mouth tightening with indignation, she stomped around him and shut the restroom door a little harder than she intended.

And immediately felt guilty for acting so childish. There was no point in taking her anger out on him when the worst part of it was directed at herself. The truth was she was longing to be held and coddled and spoiled by someone right now. Most unfortunately, she wasn’t his to spoil.

A moan of defeat escaped her, and she muffled it by raising the lapel of her robe and pressing it to her face. Heaven help her, but she appreciated his concern far more than she had the right to and that was going to be a problem. She was going to have to figure out a way — fast — to hide her feelings from him, because he had years of experience exploiting the weaknesses of others. He was gorgeous and brilliant and apparently irresistible to her hormone-befuddled mind. He was also clever and conniving, a master manipulator. She couldn’t allow herself the luxury of letting down her guard, especially while spending the weekend in his home. His turf. The beast’s own lair.

A second moan escaped her for an entirely different reason as she slipped out of her borrowed robe. She stepped around the single clear, glass wall barrier into his marvelous guest shower. Rain shower heads were low-lit with faint blue lights. The water cascaded over her and fell on wide, slate tiles. It tricked along the floor and disappeared into a rocky basin separating the shower area from the sunken tub.

The piece de resistance, however, was the rear wall of the shower. It enclosed an enormous saltwater fish tank. Tiny turtles, fish of varying hues and sizes, and a waterfall of green vines turned the room into a marine-lovers paradise. It was exotic and breathtaking, just like its owner.

She tried not to think of him showering here. Standing right where she was standing. All six feet two inches of his broad and beautiful frame. With his intense gold eyes and hard mouth. The one she longed to feel on her lips again.

Stop, Jacey. Just stop. On a shuddering sigh, she turned down the water temperature a few degrees.

Not only were heated towels waiting for her, but a duffle containing some of her own clothes rested next to it. How in the world? She cringed at the thought of Luca visiting her itty bitty apartment and finding out how financially strapped she was. How desperate. Maybe Alora had delivered her clothing to Luca’s mansion. She would call her at first opportunity to verify it.

She tugged on a white tank, an off-the-shoulder pale pink sweatshirt, and comfy pair of jean jeggings. What had Alora been thinking to pack something so hip-hugging and comfy? She dug in the duffle a second time, hoping for something more along the lines of business casual, but there was nothing else in it. No way! That was it?

She wiggled her toes. At least her pedicure was still fresh. She opened and closed a few drawers in the vast vanity and found a hair dryer. Despite her unsettled state, she couldn’t help reveling in the warmth of the pressed hot air and wafting scent of the shampoo she’d helped herself to from the basket of sample sized bottles on the sink. Something with vanilla in it. She’d always considered it a comforting and soothing scent.

She turned off the dryer once her hair stopped dripping and finger combed it into some semblance of order. She preferred not to dry out her hair with too much heat. Staring at herself in the mirror, she placed a hand on her still-flat belly, reminding herself there was a little human growing inside her.

It made her eyes fill. “This wasn’t supposed to happen without you here, Easton,” she whispered. They were supposed to have gone to pastoral counseling together, worked out their differences, and gotten their marriage back on track. Instead, he was gone. For good. He would never get to meet their child.

A sob worked its way up her throat. “Without you here,” she repeated softly, as the lyrics to a new song began to flow through her head. Gritty and wrenching, they gripped her insides, demanding to be written down. It was something she’d not bothered sharing with anyone. Not even Easton. She was more than a singer. She wrote music, too, both the lyrics and the score though she hadn’t been inspired to write a single word or note for months.

She dashed from the bathroom and nearly collided with Luca.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quickly, gently clasping her upper arms to steady her.

“I need a pen and paper.”

He strode across the room and yanked open the drawer to the closest nightstand. “Here.” He handed her a fancy pen and a good quality pad of paper monogrammed with a scroll-like C.

Half weeping, half singing, she sat on the edge of the guest bed and scribbled out the chorus.

Without you, all I have is unfilled promises. Without you, all I have is half-lived dreams. Without you, I spend all my time remembering. Holding on to every moment I had with you.

The verses would come to her later. The magic was in the chorus right now. The “without you” part encompassed so much. Her long-lost youthful invincibility. Her too-hasty marriage that had quickly spiraled south. Her languishing dreams. Her fledgling musical career she’d abandoned after Easton’s fatal wreck. And Easton himself with his insatiable taste for life and adventure that had been utterly extinguished without warning. Anyone who heard the song would probably assume it was a grieving widow’s cry — no more and no less, and that was okay with her. She was the only one who needed to know the song was about much more. She would sing it to their baby when he was born; and when he was older, she would tell him all about the father he never met.

Funny how she already thought of their unborn child as a son.

She clasped the notepad to her chest and closed her eyes, letting her voice close huskily and full-bodied around the final line. “Holding on to every moment I had with you.”

The rasp of jeans against the bedsheets made her eyelids fly open. Luca was standing close. So close. Her lids drooped from the dizzying sensation his nearness brought.

“You have a lovely voice.” He cupped her face with both hands. “It’s like magic.”

So was his touch. The notepad and pen slipped from her fingers, skittered across one of her knees, and landed on the floor. She’d known, way deep down, the moment she’d woken up in his home that this time would come. She just hadn’t expected to feel so powerless to resist him when it did. As naturally as a flower opening to the sun, she tipped her face up to his.

“Jacey.” His voice was a reverent whisper as he drew her to her bare feet. One of his knees bumped her as he leaned forward to capture her mouth.

Instant heat fused their lips. The melancholy left her. There was no more looking back. No more regrets. Only Luca.

With a soft sound of capitulation, she kissed him back. His warm fingers cupped her chin, searing her all the way to her soul.

I can’t believe this is happening. Again. It’s still too soon, but…

She ignored the warnings going off in her dazed mind and entwined her arms around his middle, soaking in his scent and nearness and strength. It wasn’t a casual kiss either. Or one from a person simply offering comfort. It was more. They were two hurting souls who had found something vital in each other to hold on to. Something real. And potent. And magical.

Something that inspired cautious hope and crazy little explosions of joy.

The last twenty-four hours of bottled-up frustration, hurt, and anger in her evaporated. So what if the timing of things between her and Luca was completely off? Or worse…what if they were completely wrong for each other? Her traitorous hands traveled up the smooth fabric of his t-shirt, over broad shoulders that could handle anything a mega corporation could throw his way, and circled his neck, tugging him closer. She needed his strength right now, craved the man beneath the strength.

He was the first one to break off the kiss. “We better stop.”

“Luca,” she breathed, touching his cheek. Who would have dreamed in the past few miserable weeks that he was capable of such passion, such tenderness?

“I know, princesa,” he assured huskily. “I feel it, too. I just want the timing to be right when —” He clamped his mouth shut and ran a hand through his dark hair.

Her face fell as thoughts of Easton came inevitably crashing back. “You’re right. We can’t. This isn’t a good idea,” she mumbled. As the brother of her dead husband, Luca wasn’t hers to kiss like this. He was an angry, grieving man whom she’d taunted and teased every bit as mercilessly as he had driven and punished her during the short time they’d worked together. Both of them were a hopeless tangle of conflicting emotions, too often held in check in each other’s presence.

Which the only logical explanation as to why they kept erupting on each other. What was happening between them had no foundation and didn’t equivocate any lasting emotion. Nothing even close to love. Best to put a stop to whatever this way before either of them did something they would regret.

“Believe me, it feels right even though I know the timing is off.” He tipped her face up to his with a single finger.

She sucked in a breath. He didn’t play fair. He never played fair. One of them had to start playing fair.

“Don’t,” she said quietly.

He immediately pulled back.

“What is it, princesa?” The fear in his voice blazed through, warming her to her toes. It had been way too long since anyone had shown so much concern for her.

When she didn’t answer, his expression grew stricken. “Talk to me, carina. Did I do something wrong?” The genuine anguish in his voice made her eyes widen.

“No, you didn’t, and I’m fine. Really.” She smoothed her hands down her sweatshirt.

His expression grew shuttered. “Then what’s wrong? I can tell something’s wrong.”

She gave a shaky, rueful laugh. “Me. I’m what’s wrong. Going crazy all over you like that. It’s the hormones, you know.” A raging mass of hormones that shifted into insane overdrive every time he was near her.

His expression grew soft again. “Is it now?” He leaned closer to touch his lips ever so softly to hers.

She fought a moan, beating it down to what turned into a much smaller, more helpless sound. Good grief. How could she ever hope to resist this man? “Yes.”

He touched his lips to hers again and spoke against the edge of her mouth. “I think it’s something more. Why fight it, Jacey? I’m tired of fighting it. Maybe we could call a truce?”

You’re killing me. You’re absolutely killing me. “This isn’t about us, and you know it. Not really.” She scrambled for the right words. “We’re both grieving.”

“Call it what you want, mi princesa.” He treated her to a tender smile. “Being with you makes me happy.”

“Happy?” She shot him an incredulous look. “All we’ve done is rip at each other’s throats since the day you hired me.”

“Because neither of us was looking for this.” He made a back-and-forth motion between them. “We both fought it, but it happened anyway.”

Her lips formed a silent O of disbelief. She made Luca Calcagni happy? The wildly successful billionaire CEO of Genesis & Sons? The man who’d spent nearly the entire time they’d known each other acting like he despised her? Except for the few times they’d kissed. Like today.

She wanted to believe him, but nothing was ever simple with him. Her gaze narrowed as her suspicions unfurled. Luca always had an agenda.

It was entirely possible the only reason he was being so sweet and romantic right now was because he wanted her to stay in town. Because he intended to lay the claim of the Calcagni dynasty on her unborn child, his brother’s baby. This was very likely just another one of his attempts to control her. She knew this and yet…

Her heart gave a spasm beneath her ribcage as his warm fingers tucked a loose strand of hair behind her right ear. How was she supposed to resist such an expert manipulator when she was already half in love with the man?

She couldn’t, that’s what. He’d managed to uncover all her weakest points, her furthest limits. Darn him! She absolutely couldn’t resist this side of him, which was the real reason she needed to leave town. As soon as possible.