“I need to talk to you,” he whispered.

“You can use your normal voice,” Devin responded, finding herself watching him closely, thinking about his life and his world and how she might use the Demarcos as fodder for her next book. “Just don’t shout.”

“Okay,” he agreed, testing the chair that Byron had vacated earlier with the back of his hand. Apparently, satisfied that it was dry, he sat down sideways, those expensively shod feet firmly planted on the textured, concrete deck.

He gazed at Amelia for a long minute. Then he glanced to Devin, uncertainty plain on his aristocratic face. “I can…uh, hold her. That is, if you don’t mind.”

Devin’s mouth quirked in a reflexive grin. “You want to hold Amelia?”

He smoothed his palms along his suit pants. “Yes. Sure.” He nodded, still watching Amelia as if he was afraid she might explode. “I’d like to hold her.”

“Why?”

His gray eyes narrowed. “Because she’s my niece.”

Devin shifted a little, but Amelia didn’t stir. It was probably a good time for Lucas to take another shot. “Have you ever held a baby before?”

“Just the one time,” he admitted.

Devin couldn’t help but note the wary expression on his face. “Okay.” She scooted carefully forward.

At the last minute, she realized that once Amelia was out of her arms, she’d be sitting here in nothing but her bikini. She gritted her teeth and told herself to buck up. Lucas would probably be so busy worrying about Amelia that he wouldn’t even notice.

She rose and placed the baby carefully in his arms.

His gaze shifted to her cleavage and stayed there.

She quickly straightened and stepped back. She briefly debated dashing across the deck to get herself another towel, but she decided that would be too obvious.

She sat down on the lounger and laid back, pretending she didn’t care about the bikini and truly appreciating the empty arms. She enjoyed holding Amelia, but the baby girl did get heavy after a while.