Park Avenue Scandals: High-Society Secret Pregnancy

Frowning, he studied her a long moment before saying, “Of course I am. You’re going to be my wife. You’re carrying the child who will be my heir.”

“Wow,” she said softly, wistfully. “That’s just so special and touching.”

His scowl deepened. Was that disappointment in her voice? What had she expected him to say? More importantly, what had she wanted him to say?

Then she was speaking again and Max reined in his thoughts. He’d already learned that it made good sense to pay attention when she was talking.

“I won’t be coddled, Max,” she said quietly. “I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself.”

“You’re pregnant.”

“Yes,” she said, smiling, “I know.”

“I won’t have you risking yourself or the baby with ridiculous stunts.”

“Ridiculous?”

“That’s right,” he snapped, wondering where this overprotective streak was coming from. All he knew was that when he’d seen her shoving a piece of furniture that weighed more than twice what she did, he’d felt something inside him break.

“If we’re getting married, Max—”

“If?”

She ignored that and continued, “If we’re getting married, then you might as well get used to the idea that I don’t like being ordered around.”

“That’s a shame.” Why was he still practically vibrating with a jumble of emotions he didn’t really want to acknowledge? And why the hell was he issuing a deliberate challenge to a woman he knew damn well would fight him tooth and nail over it?

“Yes, it is. For you.” She took a step closer to him, shook her hair back from her face and lifted her chin so that her gaze could spear his more easily.

He knew she was trying to look steely, immovable. But damned if he didn’t find those glints in her eyes so sexy he wanted to tumble her backward onto the bed.

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“You’re marrying me,” he told her, his voice low and hard. “That makes taking care of you my responsibility.”

She actually smiled briefly, but the expression didn’t have a trace of amusement in it. “You sound like a medieval prince or something.”

“I can live with medieval,” he said, nodding at the image.

“Well, I can’t.”

“Is it so hard for you to accept help?”

She blew out a breath that ruffled a strand of hair falling across her eyes. “I don’t mind help, Max,” she said, keeping her gaze locked on his as if trying to will him to understand what she meant. “I came to you in the first place because I needed help, and somehow, I knew instinctively that you would be there for me.”

Something in Max’s chest tightened at those soft words, so simply spoken. In business, Max knew his allies and even his competitors respected him. Knew that once given, his word could be trusted. But in his personal life, he’d been stung badly and so had pulled back from making the kinds of commitments women wanted.

He’d considered himself cold, withdrawn and had thought himself at peace with himself. Yet, those few words from Julia meant more to him than he wanted to admit. The wall of ice around his heart seemed to splinter, jagged shards of the damn thing slicing at his insides. But as the pain tugged at him, a corner of Max’s mind, still logical, still fighting the sexual pull dragging at him, whispered, She came to you because she knew you’d help her even though she’s pregnant with another man’s baby. She came to you for help, but lied to you to get it. Why? Because she knew you’d come through for her, or because she thought a society princess was doing the common man a favor?

But did it matter?

He’d gotten what he wanted.

Her. And the heir he’d craved. A part of him still wondered about the father of her baby. If he’d come back. Change his mind and demand rights to the child Max was already thinking of as his own. And if this nameless sperm donor changed his mind about his baby, wouldn’t he also want Julia? Who the hell wouldn’t want Julia?

His brain raced as he walked to her, every step measured. His gaze locked on her as he told himself he’d never give her up. Never let her go back to the man who’d left her pregnant and alone. She was his now. As was the child.

The closer he came to her, the more he felt that territorial surge pumping through him. His. One word, it echoed over and over again in his mind. Julia Prentice would be his wife. Her baby would be his heir. And he’d ruin anyone who tried to change that.

His body was hard, his blood was thick and hot in his veins, and the racing thoughts in his mind scattered like autumn leaves in a high wind. She was too close for him to be thinking about anything but having her. Drowning in her eyes, losing himself in her body, surrendering to the incredible rush of heat and longing that sprang into being whenever he saw her.

“I will be there for you and the baby,” he finally said, fighting the urge to grab her, hold her, take her mouth with all the hunger pumping inside him. “And since I’m now that baby’s father, I’m not going to stand back and watch you endanger the baby without saying something.”

“I wouldn’t endanger my child,” she argued, her gaze caught in his, her body leaning toward him.

“I know,” he allowed. Silently he asked himself where this was coming from. Why just looking at her made him alternately want to wrap her up and make sure she was safe and at the same time strip her down and lose himself in the glory that was her body. But any answer he might come up with would only jangle his nerves more than the question, so he let it go.

“Are you going to be giving me orders for the next seven months?” Her eyes glittered, reflecting the soft lamplight in the room, and Max felt as though he couldn’t breathe when he looked at the deep blue of those eyes shining at him.

He blew out a breath. “Probably,” he admitted, then added, “Look, I know you wouldn’t do anything deliberately to hurt yourself or the baby. But you can’t do everything you used to do without stopping to think of the possible consequences.”

A minute of silence hummed between them, fraught with emotions neither of them were willing to admit to. Seconds ticked past and Max had to fight the urge to pull her close to him. To bend his head, taste her lips, strip her down and lose himself in the feel of her beneath his hands.

Finally she said, “You’re right.”

“Now, there’s something I never thought I’d hear you say again.” One corner of Max’s mouth turned up. “I think we’re having a moment here.”

She laughed a little, shook her head and warned, “Don’t get used to it.”

Max lifted one hand, cupped her cheek and stared directly into her eyes. Then he spoke, a soft warning for both of them. “Maybe neither one of us should get too used to this.”

“This?”

“Being together.”

“We will be, though,” she reminded him. “For a year, anyway.”

He smiled again and stroked the tips of his fingers over her cheekbone. A year of Julia in his life. In his home. In his bed. Did it matter that she’d lied to him to bring them to this point? No, it didn’t. Not to him. She’d lied, but she’d done it for her child. That he could understand. Hell, admire. And it had brought her here. To him.

“So you’ve decided to sign the papers, then?”

“Yes.” Her gaze shifted to one side briefly before coming back to meet his again. He felt that powerful blue gaze punch into him, and the hunger inside roared with a need that nearly brought him to his knees.

“My lawyer went over them this afternoon,” she said. “I signed them. Left them on the dining-room table.”

A knot of tension he hadn’t been aware he was carrying dissolved inside him, and Max threaded his fingers through her hair at her temple. The silken strands slid against his skin, warming him, tempting him—as if he needed further tempting.

“Good,” he said, and heard the husky note of need in his own voice. “That’s good. So it’s official. We’re a couple.”

“A trio, actually,” she said, her smile fading into an expression of desire as his fingers continued to slide through her hair.

“I stand corrected,” he whispered, lowering his head to hers. “I also stand hungry.”

“Dinner’s in the fridge,” she murmured, twisting her head into his hand, so that she could feel more of him. “Your housekeeper left it and—”

“That’s not what I’m hungry for,” Max said, and took her mouth with his. It began as a gentle brush of his lips on hers, then quickly became something much more. Something he found he desperately needed.

She leaned into him and Max caught her up, pulling her close, molding her body to his, feeling the need inside him clawing for release. He groaned as the taste of her filled him, swamping him, drowning him in sensation that only grew more complex, more overpowering. Her scent wafted around him, teasing his every breath with another layer of her.

His hands swept up and down her spine, feeling every curve, defining every line. The taste of her swam through him in a rush of something so powerful his mind quieted, his thoughts faded, and he gave himself up to the moment.

She sighed and his heartbeat quickened. She leaned into him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and everything in him roared. He broke their kiss, tearing his mouth from hers, only to move to her jaw and trail hot, damp kisses down the length of her slender throat. When he reached that pulse-pounding point at the base of her neck, he tasted the evidence of her need. The frantic beating of her heart, the staggering sighs of her breathing.

Julia groaned, allowing that one small sound to slide from her throat into the stillness of the room. The touch of his hands was like fire. Her head dropped back and she stared blankly at the ceiling as Max’s mouth moved up and down her throat, trailing hot, urgent kisses. His hands swept over her, sliding beneath the hem of her shirt, tugging it up and over her head. Once he had the silky garment in his hands, he tossed it over his shoulder to land on the floor. Then he flipped the catch on her bra, slid it off and down her shoulders and filled his hands with her breasts. His thumbs smoothed across her hardened nipples until Julia was nearly whimpering with the sensations coursing through her.

He walked her backward until the backs of her thighs hit the edge of the massive bed. His gaze locked with hers, she couldn’t look away. Couldn’t seem to see anything but the green eyes watching her, devouring her.

Ribbons of need unwound inside her, and Julia surrendered to the inevitable. When he laid her back on the bed, she felt the cool slide of silk against her bare skin. She lifted her hips as Max unhooked her slacks, slid the zipper down and then pulled them down her legs. All she wore now was a scrap of pale pink lace underwear that was gone in the next second. Naked, hungry for the sight of him, the feel of him, she scooted farther back on the bed and watched as he quickly stripped off his own clothes, his gaze never leaving hers.

“I want you,” he whispered as he joined her on the bed, sliding his big hands up her calves, her thighs, her hips. “I always want you. It’s like fire in the blood. Never quenched, never satisfied, always burning.”

“I know,” she said, reaching for him, tugging his mouth down to hers. “I know just what that feeling is like. It’s never been like this for me before. Only with you.”

“Only me,” he repeated, and dipped his head for a quick kiss. But when she tried to hold him there, hungry for the taste of him, he escaped her grasping hands and moved, trailing hot, damp kisses along her body. He gave each of her tender, sensitive nipples attention, then moved on, sliding lower and lower over her body until Julia was twisting and writhing beneath him, eager for what she knew was coming, what she wanted desperately.

He knelt between her thighs, scooped his hands beneath her bottom and lifted her until her legs dangled free and she was helpless in his grasp. “Max …” She swallowed hard, took a breath and held it.

“I want the taste of you in my mouth. I want all of you,” he whispered. Then he bent his head to the core of her and flicked his tongue over that one small, too-sensitive spot.

Sparks shot through her bloodstream and exploded behind her eyes in a dazzling shower of light and heat. Again and again, he used his tongue to lick and stroke and gently torture her. She rocked her hips, grabbed fistfuls of the silken duvet beneath her and held on with an iron grip. The world seemed to teeter around her, spinning wildly out of control, and it was all due to the man so intimately loving her.

He pushed her higher, higher, and Julia fought for air. Fought to reach that peak he kept her climbing for. Tension coiled, tightening until she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could only feel. When release came, her climax slammed into her, and Julia rocked helplessly in his grasp, riding the wave of completion that seemed to roll on forever.

“Max—”

“Not finished yet,” he promised, and laid her down on the bed. Her body was still humming, still trembling with the force of her orgasm when Max turned her over and she lay facedown on the cover. She turned her head to one side and watched him as he stroked his hands up and down her spine until finally bringing them to rest at her hips.

He lifted her until she was on her knees and Julia felt a brand-new surge of want filling her. Amazing. She hadn’t even stopped trembling from her last climax, and already, her body hungered for another. For the feel of his body pushing into hers, for the sensation of being filled by him.

“Take me, Max,” she whispered, arching her back, offering herself to him. “I want you inside me.”

He braced his thighs on either side of her and she felt the hard, warm strength of him surrounding her, claiming her. Then he leaned his body over hers and pushed himself into her depths.

Julia called out his name and pushed backward, meeting his thrusts, taking him deeper and more fully into her body than she ever had before. Again and again, he withdrew and entered, claiming more of her heart and soul with every slow thrust.

He moved one hand around her body and cupped her breast as he took her higher and higher. She moved with him, loving the feel of his hard, strong body covering hers, filling hers. She gave herself up to the wonder of it, and when her body exploded into glittering shards of pleasure, her breath shattered and she didn’t breathe again until she felt him join her on that blissful slide into nothingness.

Nine

They settled into a routine of sorts over the next few days. With the wedding getting closer with every passing day, there were details to be dealt with and Max was astonished by how easily Julia managed everything.

On Monday she had a fitting for her wedding dress.

On Tuesday she dragged Max to the caterer Amanda had recommended.

On Wednesday they visited three florists with Amanda until a decision had been made.

On Thursday the judge who would perform the ceremony met with them to discuss what would be a brief, civil service.

And on Friday they had to attend a charity ball for the Midtown Shelter, one of the organizations Julia raised funds for.

Max hated wearing a tuxedo.

Somehow, they always made him feel like a fraud. Glancing around the room at the glittering stars of society, gathered together to be admired for the money they were donating, he felt like just what he was. A blue-collar kid from upstate New York.

It didn’t seem to matter that he had more money than most of the attendees. Didn’t matter that he’d worked for more than a decade, building his company into one of the fastest-growing financial institutions in the country. Didn’t even matter that he was soon to be marrying into one of the oldest families in New York.

Because at gatherings like these, there were always the sidelong glances directed at him. The barely concealed snubs. These people might need his financial advice, but they didn’t consider him one of them. And they never would.

Normally at one of these functions Max made the rounds, spoke to a few people, handled his donation and left, usually with some sparkling, empty-headed beauty on his arm. Tonight, though, everything was different.

His gaze focused on the reason.

Even from across the room, one glance at Julia and Max’s body went hard and hot. She wore an off-the-shoulder, sapphire-blue gown with a low-cut bodice and a back that dipped so low, you could almost see the top of her behind. Her hair was done up on top of her head into a mass of curls, and her blue eyes shone with excitement and satisfaction.

She’d worked hard to pull this night off and Max felt a stir of admiration for her. His gaze followed her as she worked the crowd. A smile here, a brief touch on the shoulder there, a quick word and a laugh with an older man and she was moving again, sifting through the crowd, the rich hue of her gown soaking up the overhead lights and making her shine in a roomful of crows.

All around him, the hum of conversations rose and fell like the ocean’s waves. The air smelled of expensive perfume and the banks of roses that studded the walls. At one end of the massive ballroom, an orchestra was tuning up and at the other end, an incredible buffet was laid out to tempt appetites. Caterers moved through the crowd offering trays laden with crystal glasses of champagne, yet Max hardly noticed any of it.

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