Читать книгу Park Avenue Scandals - Jennifer Lewis, Maureen Child - Страница 14

They left the lawyer’s office and Max steered Julia out onto a crowded sidewalk. Pedestrians hustled past them, a few of them clearly irritated at being forced to walk around the couple, who only stood there and stared at each other.

“I want my own lawyers to look over the papers before I sign,” Julia said for the third time since leaving Alex’s office. “It’s only reasonable.”

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Max told her, taking her hand and dragging her out of the flow of foot traffic. He shifted until her back was against the dappled marble of the office building and his own body shielded hers from passersby. Then he looked down into the big blue eyes that had been haunting him for weeks.

He tried to read her thoughts, but for whatever reason, today she seemed able to disguise what she was thinking. Which only troubled him more than usual.

“You looked at the papers yourself. They’re perfectly straightforward. What’s the problem?”

“You’re rushing me,” she said, glancing to either side of her as if to assure herself that no one was paying them the slightest amount of attention. “I don’t like to be rushed.”

He laughed shortly. “You’re the one with the tight schedule here.” He shot a quick look at her flat belly and then lifted his gaze to meet hers again. “We want this marriage sewn up tight before you start showing, remember?”

She glowered at him and her eyes danced with sparks of anger. “I’m not going to sprout overnight, Max. Another day or two can’t possibly make that much difference.”

It did, though. To him. Since setting out on this path, Max had become more determined with every passing day to have her be his. Legally. He wasn’t willing to look at why; all he knew was that he wanted her. In his bed. In his home. In his life. And he wasn’t willing to give her a chance to change her mind and waltz out of his world as breezily as she’d waltzed into it.

“Who’s your lawyer?” he asked. When she gave him the name of one of the city’s top firms, Max nodded. “We’ll go there right now.”

“Max, I can take care of this myself.”

“No reason you should have to,” he said. “Besides, you’ll want to be at your apartment when the movers show up.”

“That’s another thing!” she snapped, lifting her chin and narrowing her eyes. “I didn’t ask you to arrange for movers.”

“You didn’t have to. I saw what needed doing, so I did it. End of story.”

“To you, maybe.”

Max moved in closer as the crowds thickened behind him. Julia shot a nervous glance around her as if trying to find an escape route. As if he would allow that to happen. He bent his head to hers, and her eyes looked huge in her face. Her breath quickened and the pulse point at the base of her throat began to throb in time with her heartbeat.

Max smiled, enjoying the effect he had on her even while having to deal with how his own body responded to her nearness. Walking wasn’t going to be comfortable for a while, but damned if he could force himself to back up any. The scent of her reached him and clawed at his self-control.

Lifting both hands to his chest, Julia gave him a shove that didn’t move him an inch, then, disgusted, huffed out a breath. “Honestly, Max, you can’t just take over my life.”

One corner of his mouth lifted as he skimmed his fingertips along the side of her jaw. “You think that’s what I’m trying to do?”

She batted his hand away. “Aren’t you?”

“No,” he said, and meant it. Hell, he liked her just the way she was. Opinionated, stubborn, with a barely contained wild streak—which was the very reason she’d allowed herself to fall into bed with him the night they’d met.

He’d known from the moment he saw her that he wanted her. And the sparks between them had flown fast and furious that night. Still, he’d been surprised that Julia Prentice, society princess, had stepped out of her entrenched-in-rules life long enough to lose herself to passion.

That night had been a revelation to him. He’d seen beyond the facade she showed society to the woman she was beneath her well-tailored clothes and appropriate behaviors. And that was the woman who continued to haunt him. She was an intriguing blend of buttoned-down conventionality and uninhibited siren—and just standing this close to her made him hard and eager to have her again.

He wouldn’t risk losing her now. Even if the marriage they were about to enter was a temporary one, he intended to get everything he could out of their time together. He wanted her. He wanted her child. He wanted it all.

And Max Rolland always got what he wanted.

“If you’re not trying to steamroll me, then back off a little, Max.”

He slapped one hand to the marble wall at her side. The cool stone was just beginning to warm up due to the wash of morning sunlight. From down the street came the mingled scents of car exhaust, coffee and hot dogs cooking on a cart. It was morning in New York City and the sights, scents and sounds surrounding him were like old friends.

Max smiled, stared into her eyes and said, “I’ll back off as soon as we’re married.”

She frowned at him. “How do I know that?”

He shrugged. “Because I’m telling you I will.”

“Oh,” she said with a roll of her eyes, “well, that changes everything.”

He smiled, enjoying the sarcasm, even enjoying the sparks still shooting from her eyes as she looked at him. Whatever else their businesslike marriage would be, it wouldn’t be boring.

“Let’s get this settled, all right? Get married. Get rid of the blackmailer and—” He stopped as her eyes widened and she inhaled sharply. “What is it?”

“The blackmailer,” she said, opening up the long, narrow black leather bag she carried tucked beneath her arm. “I meant to tell you as soon as you arrived this morning, but you were so full of directives and commands, I forgot all about it.”

He ignored that and demanded, “About what?”

She pulled an envelope from her purse and handed it to him. “This was in my mailbox yesterday.”

Max pushed away from the wall, glared at the envelope and cursed viciously once he’d read the brief note. “So at the very least, this proves that whoever’s behind this is privy to what goes on at 721.”

“Apparently,” she said, and this time when she looked at him, her eyes weren’t shooting angry daggers at him, but were, instead, soft, confused and just a little worried. “How else would this person have known that I was getting married? And that they wouldn’t be able to blackmail me now that I won’t be pregnant and single?”

Scowling, Max took care to refold the letter and slide it back into its envelope. Then he tucked the missive into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and said, “You’re right. Somehow this person is getting information about you. We haven’t announced the wedding, so the only way they could have known is if they were somehow connected to 721. Either this person lives here, or knows someone who does.”

“It could be anyone,” she murmured.

“It could,” he agreed, and sent a seeking glance out over the passing pedestrians as if he half expected to see a familiar face watching them. When he saw nothing, he drew Julia away from the building, dropped one arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side. Then steering her into the moving, jostling throng, he bent his head to say, “Once we’re married, the threat to you is over. I’ll get this latest letter to Detective McGray, and you …”

“Yes?” She tipped her face up to look at him.

He gave her a half smile and said, “You can get the papers to your lawyer with orders to look them over quickly, then you can direct the movers. The quicker we get you settled at my place, the sooner you can put this behind you.”

She frowned again, but nodded in agreement. “Fine. I really hate to admit that you’re right. But you are. At least about this.”

Max raised one dark eyebrow as he looked down at her. “I think I just won the war.”

“Not the war,” she said, giving him a grudging smile that tugged at something inside him, “just this battle.”

“For right now,” he said, relishing the sweet tang of victory, “I’ll settle for that.”

“I can’t believe all of your stuff is gone,” Amanda said, turning in a slow circle in the middle of the living room. “It looks so … empty in here.”

“I know.” Julia sighed and dropped into one of the two remaining chairs. The movers Max had hired had, of course, been extremely diligent. They’d swept into the apartment, packed up everything she’d pointed at, then left to deliver it all to Max’s penthouse. Julia had supervised, but her presence hadn’t really been necessary. Within a few short hours, it was all handled and she was officially no longer a resident of 721 Park Avenue.

Which left her feeling a little odd. She’d loved her apartment. She had a lot of good memories wrapped up in this place. Now she was moving on, marrying the father of her child, preparing to be a mother and walking away from everything familiar and into a brand-new world.

Plus, she was leaving Amanda here in the very building where a blackmailer was running rampant. She was a little worried about her friend, though when she said so, Amanda pooh-poohed her.

“Oh, please,” she said, pulling on a pair of short black boots. “What do I have going on in my poor, pitiful, loveless life that could interest a self-respecting blackmailer?”

“Fine, maybe you’re right,” Julia said, scooting forward until she was perched on the edge of the chair, arms braced on her knees, staring into her friend’s guileless eyes. “But what if Max is right? What if this blackmailer had something to do with Marie Endicott’s death?”

Amanda stilled for a minute, then reached up and ruffled her short blond hair with both hands until it looked stylishly tousled. “Okay, you had me there for a minute, but there’s no proof that that poor woman was murdered. It’s just as likely she either fell or jumped.”

“I know but—”

“You may have a point,” Amanda announced as she stood up, then pulled Julia to her feet, too. “But I’m not going to worry about something I can’t change. I’ll be careful, I swear, so don’t worry. But I’m not going to spoil the pleasure of having this great apartment all to myself by scaring myself silly over what’s probably nothing.”

Julia smiled reluctantly. If Amanda wasn’t too worried, then there was no reason for Julia to try to make her so. She settled for teasing her friend. “Fine. I can see that you’re going to miss me horribly. You’re already rubbing your hands together gleefully at the thought of living alone!”

“Oh, honey!” Amanda grinned, swept in and gave Julia a quick, fierce hug. “That’s not what I meant at all! Of course I’ll miss you. Who will I have to join me in a midnight splurge on hot-fudge sundaes? Who will be here to listen to me moan and complain about my irritating clients? Who can I steal … er, borrow purses from?”

Julia shook her head and laughed. “Okay, I’m convinced I’m loved.”

“You are, you know,” Amanda said, her smile fading into seriousness. “And not just for your great purses and shoes, either, though they are a consideration. I’m really going to miss you now that you’re moving in with Mad Max.”

Julia laughed even harder. “Mad Max?”

Amanda shrugged. “It’s how I think of him. I mean, come on. He’s rough and rugged—so not one of the usual society types all cool and icy—and he’s a little arrogant, which is just so sexy, don’t you think?”

Julia did think so. The man oozed sex. All he had to do was walk into a room and she was ready to find the nearest flat surface. Although, even as that thought rolled through her mind, she remembered that only that morning, when he’d braced her against the office building, a part of her had wanted him to lean in and take her right there. Crowds or not. Busy city street or not. She didn’t need a flat surface at all. She only needed him.

Not that she’d admit this to anyone else, of course.

“Humph,” she said, with a wicked look at Amanda.

“A week ago, you were warning me not to marry him.”

“Well, as a best friend, that’s my job. But since you are going to marry him and he is the father of your baby, let’s at least admit that the man is a treat for the eyes.”

“He is that,” Julia said on a sigh. “And for other things, as well.”

Amanda groaned and slapped one hand to her heart. “You’re killing me here. Remember me? The not-by-choice celibate roommate?”

“Vaguely,” Julia said, grinning, since she heard the self-deprecating tone in Amanda’s voice quite plainly. After all, Amanda herself had chosen to steer clear of relationships after her last one had ended so badly.

“Fine, fine, make light of my pain.” Amanda grabbed her purse, tossed Julia’s black bag to her and said, “And now, to make up for showing so little sympathy for my lack of a sex life, you get to go shopping with me.”

Julia tried to pull away and looked longingly at the chair she’d just left. “Amanda, I’m exhausted …”

“Nothing that a latte and a doughnut won’t cure. My treat.”

“Seriously, I’ve got to get to Max’s. The movers have unloaded everything, but I’ve got to finish organizing my stuff and—”

“You can do that anytime,” Amanda protested, already dragging Julia toward the door. “How many times will you get to help me buy a new couch? Oh, and tables. And maybe a couple of lamps. And what do you think about new drapes?”

Groaning, Julia followed in her friend’s wake, knowing there was no escape until Amanda’s shopping bug had been fed.

As they stepped out of the elevator into the lobby, Amanda was promising her that latte before they got busy shopping. Both women stopped and smiled at Carrie Gray, waiting for the elevator.

At twenty-six, Carrie had gorgeous chestnut hair she forever tied back in a ponytail, big green eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses and a figure most women would kill for, nearly always disguised beneath oversize shirts and baggy jeans. A friendly woman, Carrie lived in apartment 12B but was officially a house sitter for Prince Sebastian Stone of Caspia. Carrie spent most of her time in the apartment, working on her sketches and trying to find a job doing what she loved.

Today, though, she looked exhausted. Even as Julia noticed the shadows under her friend’s eyes, Carrie yawned and laughed at the same time.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, then blinked her eyes rapidly as if trying to wake herself up.

“Late night?” Amanda teased.

“Not the way you mean, unfortunately,” Carrie admitted.

Behind them, the elevator closed with a quiet swish of sound and in the center of the lobby, Henry stood at his station, sparing the three of them only the barest glance.

Amanda was grinning. “You still having trouble with Trent’s Troops?”

Julia groaned. The three of them had come up with the title “Trent’s Troops” for the mind-boggling string of women who came and went from Trent Tanford’s apartment on a daily basis.

And, by the way Carrie’s green eyes lit with fury, Julia guessed Amanda had been on target. Trent Tanford, heir to a huge entertainment empire, was a classic playboy. The man was far too handsome for his own good and regularly had women dropping at his feet. Unfortunately for Carrie, Trent’s women wandered in and out of the building all night long, and apparently, most of them were confused enough to ring Carrie’s bell in apartment 12B, instead of Trent’s in 12C.

“Honestly, you guys,” Carrie said, then checked her voice and lowered it so that Henry wouldn’t overhear. Leaning forward, she said, “It’s completely out of hand. That guy’s got hot- and cold-running women all night long. What is he, a rabbit?”

Amanda laughed and even Julia had to smile, despite the fact that Carrie looked fit to kick something.

“Last night?” Carrie shook her head and her long ponytail whipped from side to side behind her. “The doorbell rings at 3:00 a.m. and there’s this barely legal blonde standing there smiling at me like I’m the maid ready to usher her into the sex god’s presence. Mind you, two other women have already gotten me up during the night. Apparently Trent can’t find women who can read, since none of them can tell the difference between a B and a C. So I’m running on no sleep and zero patience by this time.”

“Uh-oh,” Julia muttered.

“Exactly,” Carrie said, then continued with her story. “The blonde says, ‘Hello, I’m Lauren Hunter,’ as if I care who she is.” Fisting her hands at her sides, Carrie took a deep breath as if just remembering the night before was churning her temper again. “So I’d had it. I just lost it with this woman. I yelled at her, told her she was at the wrong apartment and that if she was going to go get a quickie with Trent, then the least she could do was make sure she got his address right. For God’s sake, is it really so hard to check before ringing somebody’s doorbell in the middle of the night?”

“Good for you,” Amanda said.

“Felt good, but she looked shocked,” Carrie said. “The next time one of his bimbos knocks on my door looking for him, though, I’m not going to take it out on her. I swear I’m going straight to Trent and let him have it.”

“Maybe you should,” Julia said. “Maybe he doesn’t know his women are disturbing you.”

Carrie slid her a long look. “You really think Trent Tanford is worried about disturbing me? I don’t think so. The man is interested in one thing only …”

She left the rest unsaid and, really, why not? They all knew the only thing Trent wanted from women.

Amanda reached out and gave Carrie a brief hug. “You want to come to Park Café with us and get a latte? I’ll buy you a doughnut!”

Carrie chuckled, half turned and punched the up button on the elevator. “Thanks, but all I want right now is several uninterrupted hours of sleep.”

As she and Amanda left the lobby of 721, Julia thought wistfully that now that she’d be living with Max full-time, she wouldn’t have any more of these spur-of-the-moment conversations with her friends again. No more meeting in the elevator. No more chitchatting in the lobby. No more laughing with Amanda over late-night cookie binges.

Of course, there were compensations to living with Max that she didn’t have now, too.

Say, for example, living with the man she loved. Although she knew he didn’t love her back.