Penniless And Secretly Pregnant - Jennie Lucas Page 0,29
that what you were asking me? To understand my world?”
“That was before...”
“There was so much I never was able to show you before. We spent our whole time together in Brooklyn.” He paused. “Let me show you Manhattan.”
Her light green gaze looked troubled, then she bit her lip. “I’m not sure I can leave Sunny alone here...”
“Mrs. Berry can watch her. She’s good with dogs.” At least, she’d seemed good with Sunny just now. He’d never really thought about it. He’d certainly never lived with a dog before. His parents had despised the idea of pets. “She’s very trustworthy.” That at least was true.
He could see Daisy weighing that, and wondered if she was setting such a high bar for who was allowed to watch her dog, would any potential babysitter for their daughter need two PhDs and a letter of reference from the Dalai Lama?
“I suppose,” she said finally. “As long as we’re not gone for too long.”
Reaching out, he took her left hand in his own, running his thumb over her bare ring finger. “We could go to Helios,” he said casually. “Look at engagement rings.”
He felt her shiver and saw the flash of vulnerability in her eyes. Then she pulled her hand away.
“No,” she said firmly. “No rings.”
Couldn’t blame a man for trying. “There must be something you need, you or the baby.”
She tilted her head, then sighed, resting her hand on her swelling belly peeking out from the open black puffy coat. “I suppose it would be nice to get a new coat,” she admitted. “This morning, I suddenly couldn’t zip it up anymore.”
As she rubbed her belly, he saw a flash of cleavage at the neckline of her white button-down shirt, and he wondered what touching those breasts would feel like. A very dangerous thing to wonder. He couldn’t think about seducing her. Because he was the kind of man that if he let himself think about something, he would soon take action to achieve it.
“But you don’t need to pay for it,” she said quickly. Inwardly, he sighed. He’d never had so much trouble convincing a woman to let him buy her things. “While we’re at Franck’s,” she continued, “I need to pick up my waitress uniform. I have a shift tomorrow.”
Leonidas frowned. “You’re not thinking of going back to work at the diner?”
“Of course.” Daisy frowned. “Do you really think I’d just quit my job? And leave my boss in the lurch?”
“Why would you—” Gritting his teeth, he said, “You don’t have to be a waitress anymore. Ever. I will take care of you!”
She put her hand on her hip. “Are you telling me not to work?”
Raising his eyebrow, he countered, “Are you telling me it’s comfortable to stand on your feet all day, when you’re this pregnant?”
Daisy’s expression became uncertain, and her hand fell to her side. “I’ll think about it,” she said finally. “On the drive to Brooklyn.” She paused. “Actually, could we...um...take the subway or something?”
“You don’t like the Rolls-Royce?”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s a limo. With a uniformed driver.”
“So?”
“Well, the whole thing’s a little bit much, isn’t it?”
As much as he wanted to please her, Leonidas wasn’t quite ready for the subway. They compromised by having his driver, Jenkins—wearing street clothes, not his uniform—take them in Leonidas’s Range Rover.
When the two of them arrived at the Brooklyn co-op overlooking the river, the building’s doorman greeted Daisy with a warm smile, then glared at Leonidas.
“You all right, Miss Cassidy?” the man asked her.
She gave him a sweet smile. “Yes. Thank you, Walter.” She glanced at Leonidas, clearly enjoying his discomfiture.
“Thank you, Walter,” he echoed. The man scowled back. Obviously their last meeting, when Leonidas had threatened Daisy with lawyers, had been neither forgiven nor forgotten.
But Leonidas was even more discomfited, ten minutes later, when, upstairs in Bain’s apartment, Daisy announced she was entirely packed.
“That’s it?” Leonidas looked with dismay at her two suitcases and a large cardboard box full of books and a single canvas painting. “That is everything you own?”
Daisy shrugged. “I sold most of our family’s belongings last year, to pay for my father’s legal defense.” She hesitated as she said quietly, “The rest was sold to pay for the funeral.”
Her eyes met his, and his cheeks burned. Though she didn’t say more, he imagined her silently blaming him. When would she realize it wasn’t his fault? Not his fault that her father had decided to sell forgeries and needed a lawyer. Not his fault that Patrick Cassidy