Park Avenue Scandals

Seven

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.

Eight

Julia pushed at the heavy, mahogany dresser and managed to move it a couple of inches along the gleaming wood floor. Then she stopped, huffed out an impatient breath and glared at the blasted thing as if it were being deliberately stubborn. You’d think the thing would slide a little more easily. It wasn’t as if she was trying to push it into the next room, after all.

She stopped and looked around the master bedroom. Hers and Max’s bedroom now. She wondered how it would be to fall asleep beside him every night and wake up next to him every morning. She smiled to herself as she silently acknowledged that in a bed that wide, they might not even notice each other’s presence.

But as soon as that thought sped through her mind, she discounted it. She was always hyper aware of Max, no matter where they were. Lying beside him in that big bed, she knew, was going to be both glorious and miserable. Julia never would have agreed to marry him, even for the rescue he offered her, if she didn’t care for him. If she didn’t love him.

How she’d managed to fall in love with Max Rolland so quickly, so irrevocably, was beyond her, but that step had been taken and there was no going back. Julia sighed a little as she stared at the bed covered in a dark red silk duvet, and she wondered if living with Max without his love was going to be a little like dying just a bit every day.

Her only recourse was not to let him see what she felt for him. To behave no differently than she ever had around him. And to hope that sometime during the year of their temporary marriage, he might come to love her, too.

“What’re you doing?”

She jumped, startled, and spun around, one hand at her throat as she stared at her soon-to-be husband standing in the doorway. Her heart jolted a little and her insides began their now familiar twist into expectant knots. But with her latest resolution to keep what she felt for him to herself in mind, she blurted, “You scared me!”

“Same to you,” Max snarled, glaring at her. He stalked into the master bedroom, marched directly up to her and grabbed hold of her right arm. He paid no attention at all to the electricity that zipped through his veins at the merest touch of her skin to his. He wasn’t about to be sidetracked by desire. “I said, what’re you doing?”

She pulled her arm free, gave him the same disgusted look she’d just directed at the dresser and quipped, “What am I doing? Brain surgery. You?”

“Funny,” he said, not smiling in the least.

He’d arrived at the penthouse loft only a minute or so ago and had noticed the difference in his home the moment he walked in. There were bright, colorful throw pillows on the sofas and chairs in the living room. There were fashion magazines spread across the coffee table and a pair of high heels apparently kicked off in front of one of the couches.

But he hadn’t even needed to see those physical hints of Julia’s presence. Standing in the foyer, he’d felt the difference in the atmosphere instantly. Until today, every night when he walked into his empty home, he told himself it was as he wanted it. Privacy. Space. Time to think with no one making demands on him.

But with the simple act of moving into the penthouse, Julia had changed that. There was life here now. Even the air was faintly scented with her perfume. The rooms seemed warmer, the apartment itself more welcoming somehow. And he found he relished it. So naturally, he’d gone in search of his almost wife only to locate her in the bedroom, pushing a huge piece of furniture.

“Are you nuts?” he demanded, waving one hand at the dresser. “That thing’s got to weigh a couple hundred pounds. What’re you doing trying to move it by yourself?”

Both of her eyebrows lifted, she gave him a tight smile and, ignoring his bluster, turned to shove at the thing again as if he hadn’t said a word. Max could hardly believe it. He wasn’t accustomed to people disregarding what he said. And he didn’t much care for it.

Max pulled her away, turned her around and held on to her shoulders with a viselike grip. “You’re pregnant, Julia. You shouldn’t be trying to move heavy furniture.”

She sighed. “I’m not an invalid and the baby is perfectly safe.”

“You’re not doing this,” he said and to avoid further argument, bent down, scooped her up into his arms and carted her over to the wide bed, where he dropped her on the mattress. She bounced a little and then looked up at him through narrowed blue eyes.

“Max, I’m perfectly capable of—”

“Where were you trying to move it to?” He cut her off as he walked quickly to the dresser.

She sighed again, shook her head and pointed. “There. Just a foot or two to your left.”

Muttering darkly about women being unable to leave things as they were, he put his back to it and in moments had the dresser exactly where she wanted it. “There. Happy?”

“Deliriously.”

He brushed back the edges of his jacket and planted both hands on his hips. “Why didn’t you have the movers do that for you when they were here this morning?”