Page 48 of How to: Hide a Baby

Dom chuckled. “A blonde, a brunette, and now a redhead.” He wagged his finger at Luc. “I knew you were up to no good. One of these days, my boy...”

Luc wrapped an arm around the shocked social worker. “I never could put one over on you. Talk to you later,Papà, and welcome home.” He slammed the door closed.

Ms. Carstairs wriggled from his hold, stumbling back against the door. “Oh, my,” she murmured, red-faced and breathless. She tucked a stray curl back into the tight knot on top of her head. “I am not the masseuse!”

Luc lifted an eyebrow. “You’re not?”

“No. I’m Ms. Carstairs, from social services. Are you Mr. Salvatore?”

“In the flesh. Pleased to meet you.” He offered his hand.

She stared at his outstretched fingers as if they had fangs and a rattle. “I’m your case manager.” She peered up at him suspiciously. “Are you sure you’re Luc Salvatore? Mr. Luc Salvatore, whose wife is Mrs. Grace Salvatore?”

“That’s right.”

Perhaps he shouldn’t have introduced her as his masseuse, but it was the only thing he could think of at the time. If he was smart, he’d get little Ms. Carstairs on her way fast, before she discovered Grace and Toni hiding in the closet. Social services would have the baby out of his apartment like a shot if that happened.

“Listen, I’m sorry, but Grace and Toni aren’t in.” Dropping his hands to her shoulders, he peeled her off the door, opened it, and glanced up and down the hallway. Dom was nowhere in sight. “How about coming back tomorrow?” Planting his hand in the small of her back, he propelled her into the hall.

A loud baby bellow resounded through the apartment and Ms. Carstairs’ eyebrows flew up. “Your wife and Antonia are out? And what, may I ask, is that crying? It certainly sounds like a baby to me.”

Before he could stop her, she charged back into the apartment, leaving him no choice but to give chase. Following the sound of a very cranky Toni, she hustled into his bedroom and hesitated in front of the closet. Shooting him a look of disbelief, she threw open the closet door.

Luc inhaled sharply, positive he’d never seen a more appealing sight in his life. Grace sat there on the floor, Toni clutched to her breast. Wispy golden curls framed her sleep-flushed face. She blinked up at them, her light green eyes soft and drowsy. Clearly, she’d just woken up.

“You make your wife and niece live in a closet?” Ms. Carstairs demanded, turning on him. “Or do you just make them sleep in there?”

“No, I don’t make my wife and niece live in a closet,” Luc stated forcefully. “Nor do they sleep there. Most days. My father... You see, Grace...” He shoved his hand through his hair and sighed in exasperation. “It’s a long story.”

Ms. Carstairs folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot. “I have all the time in the world.”

Grace slipped Toni back into the laundry basket and crawled out of the closet. Standing proved more problematic. Her knees buckled and Luc caught her. “My legs fell asleep,” she murmured apologetically. “How long was your father here?”

“Ninety long, impossible minutes,” he replied, cradling her close until she could shake the pins and needles from her legs. He gazed down into her face and frowned. Cupping her chin, he ran his thumb across her cheekbone, a question in his eyes. “Cara? Are you all right?” he asked in a low voice.

A hint of color lit Grace’s face. Could he tell she’d been crying? Lord, she hoped not. She shifted her attention to the social worker, offering a smile and a hand. “Hi. I’m Grace.” She gulped, forcing out the lie. “Grace Salvatore.”

“Lillian Carstairs. May I ask if you and the baby often hide in your husband’s closet?”

“It’s the first time that I’m aware of,” Luc answered for Grace. “I can’t vouch for any other closets, however. Have you hidden in any others?”

“Only one. When I was twelve.”

“Excuse me,” Ms. Carstairs interrupted. “Let’s just deal with this closet and this time. Why were you hiding in the closet?”

“So Dom—Luc’s father—wouldn’t find us,” Grace answered.

Luc released a gusty sigh. “My father doesn’t know about Toni. For that matter, he doesn’t know that Grace and I are married. We eloped while he was still in Italy. And until I tell him—"

“Your wife and niece will be kept hidden away in the closet?” the social worker suggested dryly.

“We’ll use the bathroom next time,” Grace offered. “Would that be all right?”

“Perhaps it would be best if you told him the truth,” Ms. Carstairs said in no uncertain terms. “I suppose that also explains the rather unusual greeting at the door.”

A hint of amusement lightened Luc’s expression. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to introduce you to my father. He’d already assumed the worst as far as your presence was concerned, and I just went along with it. I apologize if I offended you.”

Color spotted Ms. Carstairs’ cheeks and Grace could tell the infamous Salvatore charm was working its magic once again. “This is all highly irregular,” the young woman muttered.

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