Читать книгу Park Avenue Scandals - Jennifer Lewis, Maureen Child - Страница 10

With Julia curled up beside him, Max drew his first easy breath in two months. He finally had her back where he wanted her. He wasn’t sure what she was trying to pull with this baby ruse, but whatever it was, he’d find out. Now that she was back in his bed where she belonged.

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew damn well she’d enjoyed herself every bit as much as he had. So what was the point of the lies? he wondered. What could she possibly be after?

Going up on one elbow, he looked down into her eyes, gave her a half smile and said smugly, “Now do you want to try to tell me you’re not interested in a sexual relationship?”

Her wide blue eyes narrowed perceptibly as she met his gaze. “What I said was, I’m not interested in a solely sexual relationship.”

“I think you just proved that wrong. In a spectacular way, from my perspective.”

Muttering something he didn’t quite catch, she shoved herself away from him and scooted off the edge of the bed. Naked, she was enough to make his mouth water. Her build was small, almost fragile, but toned. She had strength in her slightly too-thin frame, and as she stalked around the edge of the bed headed for the living room, Max could freely admit that he wanted her. Again.

Quietly, he slipped out of bed and followed her, his bare feet making no sound on the floor. He watched as she bent down to scoop up her clothing, then he leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb and watched as she quickly got dressed.

“What’s your hurry?”

She flashed him a look, sucked in a gulp of air and said, “I didn’t come here for this.”

“Maybe not, but we’re damn good at it. Why not do it again?”

“Because,” she said, tugging her panties and then her slacks up and over her legs, “there’s no point.”

“You screamed,” he said with a satisfied grin. “I think that’s the point.”

Scowling at him, she tossed her blond hair behind one shoulder, slipped her bra on and clumsily hooked it into place. “There’s no talking to you, is there?”

“If you want to talk, we’ll talk.” He walked toward her, comfortable with his own nudity. She, however, looked a little nervous at the fact that he was still naked. Good. He was a man who liked knowing he had the advantage of his opponent. And no matter how else he could describe their “relationship,” opponent was definitely part of the mix.

“You could start with why you’re trying to convince me you’re pregnant.”

She kept her gaze determinedly fixed on his. “I am pregnant,” she said. “I only told you because it was the right thing to do.”

“Oh, concerned about doing the right thing, are you?”

“Honestly?” she countered. “It’s becoming less and less important to me with every word you say.”

She slipped her white blouse on and before she could button it, Max was there, hands at her shoulders. He pulled her in tightly to him, looked down into her eyes and asked quietly, “What is this really about?”

For one moment, he thought he read disappointment in her eyes, but then that moment passed and her eyes were once again a cool, dispassionate blue. “You don’t believe me, so why should I bother trying to convince you?”

A niggling doubt began to chew at the back of his mind, but he set it aside quickly. It didn’t matter what she said. He already knew the truth. “I want to know who told you to try this,” he said.

“What?”

“Word get out that I wanted an heir, is that it?” His fingers tightened on her shoulders briefly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please. We both know that salacious gossip is your society’s life blood. The rich and spoiled’s rumor mills put even Hollywood to shame.”

She stepped back out of his grasp and Max let her go. Tidily, she did up the buttons on her shirt, scooped her hair back from her face and finger-combed it until it looked less like she’d just rolled out of bed with her lover. Then she turned away, picked up her bag from where she’d dropped it earlier and stepped into her sandals.

Only when she was ready to leave did she turn back to him again. “Believe what you will, Max. But I told you the truth.”

“As you see it, of course.”

“Isn’t that the only way any of us see it?”

He frowned after her, but he let her go and didn’t try to stop her when she stepped into the elevator and left.

“I’m an idiot,” Julia groaned to Amanda an hour later as she dropped her head onto the back of the couch. Her body was still humming from Max’s touch, and her temper was still simmering with the sting of his distrust. Why would he simply assume she was lying? For heaven’s sake, he didn’t even ask for a paternity test!

She closed her eyes, opened them again and looked around her apartment. She’d built a little nest here, a place where she felt comfortable. Happy. The walls were a soft mauve, the window treatments sheer white and the overstuffed couch and love seat were covered in ivory spattered with cabbage roses. In this apartment, Julia had finally made a home for herself.

Unlike the places she’d grown up, there was nothing cold or formal or rigid here. She always felt at ease here—until tonight. And that was her fault as much as it was Max’s.

Staring up at the ceiling, she said, disbelief coloring her tone, “I went right back to bed with him. It’s like he can hypnotize me or something.”

“Lucky you,” Amanda said.

“Lucky?” Julia shook her head. “It’s like an out-of-body experience or something, except I’m right there in my body. I just don’t have control over it anymore.” She slapped one hand over her eyes. “For pity’s sake, we didn’t even use a condom. Again.”

“A little late to be worrying about protection, don’t you think?”

“I’m not thinking. That’s the solid truth. It’s like my brain shuts down when he touches me. I don’t understand this at all.”

“Why try to understand it?” Amanda said on an envious sigh. “Just enjoy it.”

“You’re not helping.” Julia turned her head to glare at her best friend, seated cross-legged on the love seat opposite her.

“What do you want me to say?” Amanda laughed and dipped her spoon into the pint of chocolate-chip ice cream. “Oooh. Bad Julia. Having sex. Shame.” She took a bite, smiled and shook her head. “Not gonna happen.”

“But he didn’t believe me about the baby.”

Amanda frowned, leaned forward and picked up the other carton of ice cream, already open, a spoon jutting up from its frozen heart. Handing it to Julia, she said, “Okay, that’s terrible. He should have believed you. I’ve never met anybody as scrupulously honest as you.”

Julia took a bite of her strawberry ice cream, let the frozen sugar dissolve on her tongue and then said, “You should tell him that. He didn’t even consider what I was saying. Just flat out called me a liar.”

“And then to get back at him for that insult, you had sex with him.” Amanda laughed. “That’ll teach him.”

Julia grimaced, picked up a pink, ruffled throw pillow and tossed it at her friend. “I already said I’m an idiot.”

Still chuckling, Amanda asked, “The question is, was it worth it?”

“Oh, God,” Julia said on a sigh. “The man has magic fingers. And a magic mouth and a magic—”

“I get the picture. And color me jealous.” Amanda stabbed at her ice cream, scooped up a huge bite and ate it.

Julia winced. She shouldn’t be going on and on about Max and the incredible sex. Wasn’t Amanda here, living with her, because her own romance had ended badly? “I’m sorry, sweetie,” she said guiltily.

“Oh, don’t be,” Amanda said, lifting her chin. “Not on my account, anyway. Yes, I loved a loser, but that’s over now. I’m good. Perfectly content with my chocolate-chip ice cream and vicarious thrills through you.”

“Humph. Those thrills have come to an end,” Julia said, hoping that her firm tone would even convince herself. “I can’t do this with Max again, Amanda. Sex isn’t enough.”

“Hmm. Won’t convince me of that at the moment.”

“Don’t I have enough problems?” Julia countered. “What am I supposed to do?”

Setting her ice cream down on the table in front of her, Amanda looked at her friend and said, “You’re the only one who can decide that, Jules. It’s your baby. Your life. What do you want to do?”

The answer to that question was easy and complicated in turns. She wanted her baby. But she was terrified of what would happen in the coming months.

Sighing, she said, “You know I always wanted kids.”

“True.”

“But I’d expected to be married first.”

“Naturally, but things don’t always go in order, either.”

“I want the baby,” Julia said. “But what happens when people find out about it?”

“Honey, this isn’t the fifties. Times have changed.”

“Times maybe,” Julia acknowledged. “But my family hasn’t. You know my parents.”

Amanda shuddered. “Good point. They wouldn’t exactly throw a party, would they.”

“To say the least.” She stopped for a moment and imagined having this little chat with her parents. She could almost feel their disapproval. Their shame. Their complete distaste for what she’d done and who she was.

The elder Prentices’ only concern was how things looked. If they found out their only child was pregnant and unmarried, they’d do everything they could to make her life a living hell. True, they couldn’t force her to get an abortion, but they’d surgically slice her out of their lives—and as bad as they were, they were her only family. Could she really stand being tossed aside?

Julia shivered and pushed those thoughts aside. “It’s not just my parents to consider, either. What about all the old-line charities I raise funds for? You think they’re going to appreciate the ‘unwed mother’ thing?”

“Your family will get over it,” Amanda said with more certainty than Julia felt. “As for the rest, you’ll deal with it as it comes.”

“Easier said than done.”

“If you want this baby,” Amanda said reasonably, “what choice do you have?”

By morning, Julia was still thinking about her friend’s question. All night long, she’d been plagued by nightmares. She could still feel the panic she’d experienced in her sleep as she’d run down long, dark streets, empty of people, but filled with shadows. She’d held her baby in her arms, and the infant’s wails had echoed off the buildings on either side of her. Rain stained the streets, and her frantic gaze couldn’t find a single person to help her.

To befriend her.

She shivered a little, shoved aside the remnants of the dream and cupped both hands around her mug of hot tea, hoping the heat would seep into her bones. She squinted into the bright spear of sunlight slanting in through the windows and told herself that dreams were not reality.

Besides, this was ridiculous, and she knew it. Here she was, twenty-eight years old, a college graduate, with a steady income, her own home and a select group of good friends. So she was pregnant and not married? What was the big deal? Other women faced this problem all the time. Why was she making such a mountain out of her own personal molehill?

“Are you that big a coward?” she asked herself and was half-afraid of the answer.

“Mail’s here.” Amanda strode into the breakfast room, dropped a stack of envelopes onto the table and headed for her bedroom. “I’ve got an appointment with a nervous bride in about an hour. Her prospective mother-in-law is trying to arrange the wedding her way. Hello, red flag, blushing bride! Run for the hills!” She shrugged, grinned and said, “Should be interesting.”

As an event planner, Amanda was always rushing to and from meetings with clients, suppliers and site committees. She was wearing a dark red business suit that looked amazing on her. As she walked away, she smiled over her shoulder and said, “Let me know if there’s anything in that stack for me.”

Julia dutifully flipped through the envelopes. Bills, circulars, party invitations … She stopped when she came to one without a stamp or postmark. It was addressed to Julia Prentice, but there was no street address on the envelope, only her name. Frowning, she broke the seal, took out the single sheet of paper and read the all-too-brief message.

Ms. Prentice—I know about your baby. If you don’t want the world to know, wire one million dollars to this Grand Cayman account. You have one week to comply.

There was an account number listed below the message, but obviously, no signature. A blackmail letter? Julia’s hands shook, then fisted on the single page of paper. Who was behind this? Someone in the building? Someone she thought of as a friend? Apart from herself, no one but Amanda and Max knew about the baby. Max didn’t believe her about it, and Amanda would never betray her.

So how had this … person found out? Had someone been listening at the Park Café? Had she been overheard despite her attempts to keep her conversation quiet? Concentrating, despite the rush of adrenaline inside her, she racked her brain, trying to remember the faces of the other patrons at the café the night before. But she couldn’t. She’d been too engrossed in her own thoughts. Too wrapped up in her own world and situation to take note of anyone else around her. And truth to tell, once Max had shown up, the building could have been on fire and she’d only have seen Max’s eyes.

“Oh, God.”

She dropped the letter to the table, slapped one hand to her mouth and fought for air as she suddenly found it hard to breathe. What was she going to do? She didn’t have the kind of disposable income that would allow her to pay out a million dollars in cash. And she couldn’t stand the thought of her private business being the subject of titillating gossip or speculation.

“Sweetie?” Amanda’s voice cut through the clamoring noise in her mind and Julia looked up through tear-glazed eyes at her friend. “What is it, Jules? What happened?”

Julia glanced at the letter and Amanda snatched it up and read it.

“Damn! Who would do something like—” She broke off and said, “Never mind. What are you going to do about this?”

“I don’t know.”

“You should go to the police, Jules.”

“What good would that do?” She shook her head and fought to think clearly, to fight down the panic already clawing through her. Her stomach was churning, her heart was pounding and her mouth was dry.

“Blackmail’s a crime.”

“I know that,” Julia said softly. “But what can the police do about it? Find the blackmailer? Would that stop whoever it is? They’d still leak my secret.”

“It won’t be a secret forever, sweetie,” Amanda reminded her gently. “People are going to find out you’re pregnant. It’s not really something you can hide.”

“Yes, but they’ll find out when I’m ready. Not when some malicious bastard decides to throw me to the gossip wolves. I can’t let my parents find out about this from reading it in the papers. And I can’t tell them myself yet, either.”

“So what are you going to do?”

Julia pushed up out of her chair, walked a few steps, then turned around to look at the other woman. “I can’t go to my parents with this. And I can’t pay the blackmail myself. There’s really only one thing I can do,” she said. “I have to go to Max.”

Max sat at his desk, trying to focus on the day’s activities. Keeping his finger on Wall Street’s pulse was the secret of his success. He had an innate ability to see which way the market would roll. To make his move before others had even considered the situation in front of them.

His reputation was such that his advice was taken as golden, and his rivals kept a close watch on him in hopes of getting the jump on him. Which hadn’t happened. Max enjoyed his work. Enjoyed being the best. He relished the swings, the ups and downs, of the market and delighted at defeating it, bending it to his own whims.

But today, he couldn’t focus. Couldn’t make himself care about oil prices or hog futures or any other damn thing on the screens. Today, all he could think of was Julia.

He hadn’t slept because his bed smelled of her. He closed his eyes and he could feel her body on his. His mind continued to dredge up image after image of her. Her blond hair mussed, tangled, her eyes soft and wide, or glittering with passion. Her mouth, full and delectable as she rose over him, took him inside.

The damn woman was haunting him.

He sat back in his office chair, swiveled it around to turn his back on the view of Manhattan and, instead, swept his gaze around his office. The room was big, the furniture was black, chrome and glass, and the atmosphere quietly successful. When he held meetings in here, this room was enough to put his adversaries on the defensive. This room said plainly that Max Rolland was a man to be taken seriously. With a lot of caution.

His world was exactly the way he’d always dreamed it would be. He had money. He had prestige. He had the whole city by the damn tail. What he didn’t have was a family. A son. An heir.

Jumping out of the black leather chair, he stalked across the room, poured himself a cup of coffee from the silver urn atop the wet bar and took a long sip while his thoughts raced. He’d married Camille, fully expecting to build the family dynasty he’d always planned on.

She’d had good bloodlines. She would have given his children the pedigree they deserved and he would have given them what they needed to excel in the world he’d wanted to hand down to them.

“Best-laid plans,” he muttered darkly, letting himself remember, however briefly, the look on Camille’s face the last time he’d seen her.

She’d looked at him with pity. With disgust. And her last words to him still echoed in his mind.

You can’t give me what I want, Max. A child. So I’m leaving you for someone who can.

He set his coffee cup down, shoved both hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. That was why he was so certain that Julia was lying to him about her pregnancy. He already knew he couldn’t have children. He was infertile. He’d let go of his dreams of building a family empire.

There was a brief knock at his office door, then it opened, and his assistant, Tom Doheny, poked his head around the edge of it. “Mr. Rolland? There’s a woman here to see you. A Ms. Prentice. She says it’s urgent.”

Max smiled and it couldn’t have been a pleasant one since Tom’s features tightened in response.

“Send her in.”