Penniless And Secretly Pregnant - Jennie Lucas Page 0,61

for a visit. Remembering how he’d burst in at her wedding, she’d been a little uneasy. But he’d explained smoothly, “My dear, I was just trying to keep you from making a big mistake. If you’d listened to me, you wouldn’t be going through a divorce now.”

Which was true.

Daisy did want to get to know Santa Barbara, and look at possible locations for a portrait studio. Living in New York, she’d never learned to drive. When Franck offered to drive her wherever she wanted, even putting a baby seat in the back of his car, how could she refuse? Didn’t a person going through a divorce need all the friends she could get?

Divorce. Such an ugly word. Every day for the last three weeks, since she’d rented the snug cottage, she’d waited in dread for the legal papers to arrive.

But there was no point putting it off. Leonidas didn’t want her. He didn’t want Livvy. He was done with them. He didn’t care how much he’d hurt them.

Maybe Franck had been right when he’d shouted out at her wedding that Leonidas was a liar who’d killed her father.

Because there was no mercy in her husband’s soul. He’d had her father sent to prison for an innocent mistake. For Daisy’s own innocent mistake of trying to help him find the Picasso, Leonidas had cut her and their baby out of his life—forever.

With a lump in her throat, Daisy looked at their sweet, plump-cheeked baby in the sunlight of the California garden. Three-month-old Livvy had fallen asleep in the car and was still tucked snugly into her baby carrier outside.

“Thanks for showing me some of your drawings,” Franck said, smiling at her. He considered her thoughtfully. “You’re very good at portraits.”

“Thanks.” She hoped he wasn’t about to suggest that she do a drawing of him. She felt weary of his company, and a little uncomfortable, too.

The way Franck had looked at her all afternoon was definitely more than friendly. Ten minutes before, on their way back to her cottage, he’d invited her to dinner, “to discuss your business options.” Yeah, right. She’d been relieved to say no. Thank goodness she had a dog waiting at the cottage who needed to be let out into the garden!

Now Sunny bounded around them happily, sniffing everything from the vibrant rose bushes to the cluster of orange trees, checking on baby Livvy like a mother hen, then running a circle around the perimeter of white picket fence.

The only thing the large golden dog didn’t seem to like was Franck.

The dog had growled at him at first sight, when he’d arrived to pick them up in his car. Daisy had chastised her pet, and so Sunny had grudgingly flopped by the stone fireplace to mope. But even now, the normally happy dog kept her distance, giving him the suspicious glare she normally reserved for squirrels.

“Yes,” Franck said, stroking his chin as he looked at Daisy. “You have talent. More than I realized. I wonder if...”

Oh, heavens, was he about to proposition her? “If what?”

“I’ve moved my business to California.” His thin face darkened. “Your husband ran me out of New York.”

That was news to her. “Leonidas? Why?”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. He’ll soon be your ex.” Franck smacked his lips—she could swear he did. “Your divorce will make you very wealthy.”

The last thing Daisy wanted to do was discuss the financial details of her divorce with Franck Bain. She looked at his sedan parked on the other side of the picket fence, wishing he would leave already. “Um...”

“So obviously you won’t need an income. But I wonder,” his gaze swept over her, “if you might be interested in doing something with me. For pleasure.”

Ugh. The way he said pleasure made her cringe. She responded coldly, “What are you talking about?”

He lifted a sparse eyebrow. “You could be part of something big.”

“I’m sure you are involved in many big things. Don’t let me keep you from them.”

“There’s a good market in lost masterpieces.” He tilted his head slyly. “Especially old portraits.”

Daisy stared at him. Unease trickled down her spine. Could he possibly mean...? “What market?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t understand.” He grinned. “How do you think I got so rich? I help clients find the paintings they most desire.”

Time seemed to stop beneath the warm California sunshine. “You mean...by creating them?”

Franck shrugged.

“It was you,” she whispered. “All this time you said my father was innocent. But you knew he was guilty. You were his accomplice.”

Franck shook his