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High-Society Secret Pregnancy / Front Page Engagement: High-Society Secret Pregnancy
Laura Wright
Maureen Child
High-Society Secret Pregnancy - Maureen ChildManhattan millionaire Max Rolland didn’t do relationships…until his one-night stand turned up pregnant. Max knew the baby couldn’t be his, but he offered marriage anyway. For one year. He’d get his heir and a sexy bed-mate. But before the ink was dry, Max was wondering if he’d want more from Julia…Front Page Engagement - Laura Wright Millionaire media mogul Trent Tanford had one week to find a wife…or lose his empire. But none of his current Manhattan flings met his father’s stringent standards. Then Trent noticed the innocent house-sitter next door, Carrie Gray. But he’d never spoken a word to Carrie…How was he going to ask, “Will you marry me?”PARK AVENUE SCANDALS 721 Park Avenue – the ultimate address for high-price secrets!



High-Society Secret Pregnancy by Maureen Child
721 SECRETS
Keeping you up to date on all that goes on at Manhattan’s most elite address!
Heiress To Produce An Heir…
It looks as if 721 Park Avenue’s society princess, Julia Prentice, is finally taking the wedding plunge. But the real surprise is the groom—Max Rolland! Could the Prentice family actually be allowing their blueblooded daughter to marry a man who came from nothing? Of course Max has become one of Wall Street’s wealthiest whizzes. Sources say that the differences in their upbringings all fell away once the two hit the sheets. Perhaps precaution even went out the window, as rumours are circulating that our socialite is expecting. But didn’t we once hear that Max couldn’t father a child? Was that a lie, or is the baby-to-be’s paternity about to be put to the test? And now with the buzz surrounding former 721 resident Marie Endicott’s death, you never really know what’s reality…and what’s a huge cover-up!

Front Page Engagement by Laura Wright
721 SECRETS
Keeping you up to date on all that goes on at Manhattan’s most elite address!
A Marriage Proposition?
They say hate is one step away from love. It must be true in the case of 721 Park Avenue’s twelfthfloor residents Trent Tanford and Carrie Gray. Around the building, Carrie has been known to gripe about her next-door neighbour’s late-night bimbos who mistakenly knock on her door while looking for the millionaire playboy. Now rumour has it Trent may be ready to propose. We can’t wait to see mousy Carrie tame the wild beast! Coincidentally, the senior Mr Tanford is just about to retire from AMS, his media holdings. Could it be Trent thinks marriage will win him the CEO slot? And what does Ms Gray get in the alleged deal? Just the sexiest, hottest lover this building has ever known. If this “merger” goes through, Maintenance will be called up to the twelfth floor to turn down the heat. But at 721, you’re never sure what’s rumour, what’s scandal and what’s the white-hot truth!
Available in October 2009 from Mills & Boon® Desire™
High-Society Secret Pregnancy by Maureen Child & Front Page Engagement by Laura Wright
Spaniard’s Seduction by Tessa Radley & Cole’s Red-Hot Pursuit by Brenda Jackson
Claiming His Runaway Bride by Yvonne Lindsay & High-Stakes Passion by Juliet Burns

HIGH-SOCIETY SECRET PREGNANCY
BY

MAUREEN CHILD
FRONT PAGE ENGAGEMENT
BY

LAURA WRIGHT

MILLS & BOON

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk/)

HIGH-SOCIETY SECRET PREGNANCY
Maureen Child is a California native who loves to travel. Every chance they get, she and her husband are taking off on another research trip. The author of more than sixty books, Maureen loves a happy ending and still swears that she has the best job in the world. She lives in Southern California with her husband, two children and a golden retriever with delusions of grandeur.
Dear Reader,
Whenever I’m invited to take part in a continuity series for Desire
, I’m eager to jump in. This time was no different.
The chance to work with authors such as Laura Wright, Jennifer Lewis, Barbara Dunlop, Emilie Rose and Anna DePalo was not only exciting, but fun. The e-mails fly fast and furiously between the continuity authors as we work out details for our stories. We talk about everything, from the kind of clothing one character wears to the way another one speaks.
Six women, each of us with different writing styles, working together to build a world we hope will tempt you, the reader, into entering the lives of the people who live at 721 Park Avenue.
In my story, you’ll meet Max Rolland, a self-made billionaire who can’t seem to get Julia Prentice out of his mind. One night of passion has sent these two on a path neither of them expected—but one that neither will turn away from.
So join us on Park Avenue, in the heart of New York, one of the world’s most exciting cities. Surround yourself with the passion and lies and deceptions and, finally, surrender to the love.
Happy reading!
Maureen
For Alicia Estrada, as she starts off on the biggest adventure there is. You’ve been a joy all of your life, Alicia, now I wish you that same joy in the brand-new world you’re entering.

One
“Damn it, Julia, answer the phone,” the deep voice growled into the answering machine, and Julia Prentice winced when the caller hung up a moment later.
She’d been dodging Max Rolland’s phone calls for two months now, and he still hadn’t given up and gone away. Not that he was stalker material or anything, Julia reassured herself. No, he was just an angry male looking for an explanation of why she’d been refusing his calls since their one amazingly sexy night together.
The reason was simple, of course. She hadn’t been able to think of a way to tell him she was pregnant.
“Whoa.” Julia’s roommate and best friend, Amanda Crawford, event planner extraordinaire, walked out of her bedroom. “He sounds royally pissed off.”
“I know.” Julia sighed. And she could even admit that Max had a right to be angry. She would have been, too, if she’d been in his shoes.
Amanda crossed to her, gave her a brief hug, then said, “You’ve got to tell him about the baby.”
Sounded good in theory, Julia thought as she dropped into the closest chair. She looked up at her friend and saw the gleam of sympathy in Amanda’s gray eyes. “How’m I supposed to do that?”
“Just say the words.” Amanda sat down, making their gazes level, which she pretty much had to do all the time. Julia was short, at five feet two inches, and Amanda was eight inches taller. Built like a model, Amanda had short, choppy blond hair, beautiful gray eyes and a loyal heart.
“Easier said than done,” Julia said, smoothing one hand over the sharp crease in her pale green linen slacks.
“You can’t wait forever, honey,” Amanda told her. “Sooner or later, you’re going to show.”
“Believe me,” Julia said, “I know. But that night I spent with him was an aberration. I mean, things got all hot and heavy so quickly I didn’t have time to think and then the deed was done and Max was telling me he wasn’t interested in anything more than a mutually satisfying sexual relationship.”
“Idiot,” Amanda offered.
“Thanks for that.” Julia smiled. “Anyway it seemed that that was the end of it, you know? Max wanted uncomplicated sex and I wanted more.”
“Of course you did.”
She dropped her head against the chair back and stared up at the ceiling. “Now everything’s different and I don’t know what to do.”
“Yeah, you do. You just don’t want to do it.”
“I suppose.” Blowing out a breath, Julia said, “He deserves to know about the baby.”
“Yep.”
“Fine. I’ll tell him tomorrow.” Decision made, Julia actually felt a little better about things. After all, it wasn’t as if she was going to ask Max to be involved in his child’s life or even to pay child support. She could afford to raise her baby on her own. So, all she had to do was break the news of impending fatherhood, then let him off the proverbial hook.
“Why have I been obsessing about this?”
“Because you’re you,” Amanda said, smiling. She gave her friend’s knee a pat. “You overthink everything, honey. You always have.”
“Well,” Julia said wryly, “don’t I sound exciting?”
Amanda laughed. “Hey, don’t knock it. You overthink and I act on impulse too often. We’ve all got our crosses to bear.”
“True. And it’s time to pick up yet another cross.” Julia pushed herself out of the chair, then tugged at the hem of her white linen blouse. “I’ve got to go to that residents’ meeting.”
“Lucky you.”
“I really wish you could come with me,” she said.
“Not me, thanks,” Amanda countered. “I’m meeting a friend for dinner, where I will have a lot more fun than you will tonight. Personally, I’m glad to be only a roommate, with no place at those meetings. I’d be bored to tears in ten minutes.”
Sighing, Julia said, “Five.”
Julia checked the slim, gold watch on her wrist and just barely managed to stifle a sigh. The residents’ meeting in Vivian Vannick-Smythe’s apartment hadn’t even started, and already she was wishing she could leave.
She felt as though her insides were twisted into taut knots that kept getting tighter. Despite that talk with Amanda, the tension gripping Julia felt as tight as ever. She could hardly remember ever feeling calm.
This whole thing with Max had gone on too long. She was just going to have to face him and tell him the truth. Tomorrow, she promised herself, she would call him, arrange to meet and drop the bombshell in his lap. Then, duty done, she could go back to her life secure in the knowledge that a man so dead set on avoiding any kind of emotional attachment wouldn’t be bothering her again.
“You look bored,” a soft, female voice said from beside her.
Julia smiled in spite of her thoughts and shifted a glance at Carrie Gray. The woman’s green eyes were hidden behind a pair of too-practical glasses, and her long, chestnut hair was pulled into a high ponytail at the back of her head. She wore jeans, a T-shirt and sandals that showed off a dark red pedicure. Carrie was officially a house sitter for Prince Sebastian Stone in 12B, but she was also a talented—though currently unemployed—graphic designer and a good friend.
“Not bored,” Julia whispered, leaning toward her, “just preoccupied.”
Hard to keep your mind on what was happening in the apartment building when it was already focused on something far more profound. Far more personal.
“Anything I can do to help?” Carrie asked.
“No,” Julia said, knowing no one but her could handle the situation she found herself in. Still, she added, “Thanks, anyway. I appreciate it. Anything new with you?”
“Just working. Or trying to,” Carrie grumbled.
Julia smiled, instantly understanding. “Still getting Trent’s drop-bys?”
Carrie rolled her eyes, pushed her glasses up to rest on top of her head and said, “It’s a nightmare, Julia. Trent Tanford must spend every spare minute trolling for women, because they’re trooping down my hall night and day.”
Trent was a notorious playboy. A favorite of the gossip rags, he had a new woman every other day. And those women continually made their way to 721 Park Avenue.
“I swear,” Carrie said in a hiss, “these women are all looks, no brains. They keep ringing my doorbell, thinking it’s Trent’s place. What? They can’t tell the difference between 12B and 12C? Tanford doesn’t date women who can read?”
Chuckling, Julia just patted her friend’s hand and turned back to listen to the rest of the meeting. At least half listen. Hard to concentrate on resident business when her mind was racing in circles.
Julia glanced around 12A, the Vannick-Smythe apartment, and as always, couldn’t find an ounce of taste in the place. Everything was cluttered to the point of chaos. It was so gaudy, Julia’s eyes hurt just looking around. So expensively tacky, it was impossible to get comfortable there. Which was probably a good thing. Since no one was at ease in the apartment, these terminally boring meetings never seemed to last long.
Just at that moment, Vivian Vannick-Smythe herself, the de facto leader of the residents’ group—since no one else wanted the job—clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. In her early sixties, Vivian had been Botoxed within an inch of her life and as a result, her thin face was nearly expressionless. Only her icy blue eyes snapped with emotion. She was very thin, dressed in stylish, classic lines, had short, elegantly cut silver hair and the bearing of a military officer.
Thankfully, tonight Vivian had corralled her two shih tzus, Louis and Neiman, in her bedroom. But even the heavy door separating the twin terrors from the meeting didn’t completely muffle their frantic barks and yips.
“I thought,” Vivian said once she had everyone’s attention, “that before we actually begin the meeting, we should have a moment or two of silence for Marie Endicott. I didn’t know her well myself, but she was, however briefly, one of us.”
Obediently, the restive room fell silent as each of them supposedly focused on the death only the week before of a young woman who’d lived in the building. Julia and Marie had been no more than nodding acquaintances, but Marie’s death in a fall from the roof had made quite an impact on everyone’s lives.
Newspaper and television reporters had been staking out the front of the building for days, harassing residents, scrambling for quotes or, better yet, some hint of scandal.
“Do we have any more information on what exactly happened to her?” Tessa Banks, a slender blonde, was the first to speak after the silence.
“Good question.” Elizabeth Wellington spoke up next. “I actually heard a few of the reporters saying that the police think Marie might have been pushed off the roof.”
“That’s just speculation,” Vivian assured her.
“Did anyone find a suicide note?” Carrie called out.
“Not that I know of,” Vivian said, frowning a little. “The police aren’t very forthcoming with information, after all. But I’m sure none of us has anything to worry about and soon enough, this tragedy will be supplanted in the news with something else.”
True enough, Julia thought as her fellow residents continued to talk and wonder aloud about Marie Endicott. In a few days, the reporters would give up and go away and life would go back to the ordinary.
Well, not for her.
“I have a couple of other announcements,” Vivian proclaimed, her voice easily carrying over the rumble of mixed conversations. “I’m sorry to tell you all that Senator and Mrs. Kendrick, long-time residents of 721, have moved. I’m not sure where, but I believe they’re somewhere in the city. Their co-op is officially for sale.”
More rumbling, more conversations, and Julia slid her glance across the small crowd gathered there. Gage Lattimer sat off by himself, no surprise there. A tall, gorgeous man, he rarely attended these meetings and when he did, as now, he didn’t mingle.
Reed Wellington, Elizabeth’s husband, sat beside her, but his scowl made it clear he wasn’t happy to be there. Elizabeth, too, was holding herself stiffly, her body language declaring she’d rather be anywhere else.
Tessa was tapping the toe of her shoe against the carpet, and even Carrie, beside Julia, was beginning to fidget. Julia, though, had been trained by enough nannies to know how to sit still when you wanted to move. To know how to keep your emotions from showing on your face. To know how to bottle up everything inside, where no one could see.
“Just one more item now, if you’ll all give me your attention,” Vivian said. “I have an announcement. It’s very exciting and I’m sure you’ll all be as pleased as I was to hear.” She waited until everyone was focused on her before she gave them all a tight smile and said, “I’ve recently been informed that our home—721 Park Avenue—is up for Historical Landmark status!” She waited for a buzz of excitement that didn’t come, then frowning, said, “I think we should have a party to celebrate!”
As Vivian moved around the room, talking to people, trying to spur enthusiasm for her celebration, Julia edged her way to the door. Carrie had already beaten her to a quick exit, but Julia would be right behind her.
“Julia, dear.”
Darn it.
Stopping dead, Julia turned, a practiced smile on her face as she greeted Vivian. “Hello, Vivian. The meeting went well.”
“Yes, it did, didn’t it?” The older woman tried to smile, but her too-tight skin simply wouldn’t allow it. “Forgive me if I’m intruding, my dear, but you look troubled. Is everything all right?”
Surprised, since Vivian wasn’t exactly known for her interest in anyone besides herself, Julia took a moment or two to answer. “Thanks for asking, Vivian,” she said, forcing a smile she didn’t feel, “but I’m fine. Just tired, I think. And this sad situation with Marie Endicott has us all feeling the strain.”
“Oh, of course.” Vivian nodded and her sleek, silver bob hardly moved. “Poor woman. I can’t imagine what must have been on her mind to jump from the roof like that.”
“So you do think it was a suicide?” Julia asked.
“Surely you do, too.” Vivian looked at her for a long moment. “Why, anything else would be too distressing. Imagine. If she were pushed off the roof, one of us might have done it.”
Julia hadn’t really thought of it in those terms, but now that the seed had been planted, she shivered as she sent another glance at the people who lived in her building. Vivian was right. Julia couldn’t imagine any of them being a killer. Marie must have jumped. Which was a sad thought. How horrible to feel so alone, so miserable, that your only solution was to end your life.
“Now I’ve upset you,” Vivian said. “Not my intention at all.”
She had, but Julia didn’t want to talk about this anymore, so she smiled more brightly and said, “Not at all. But I am tired. So if you’ll excuse me…”
“Certainly,” Vivian said, already looking past Julia to someone else in the room. “You go on home now.”
Julia did just that, hurrying her steps down the hall to the elevator. When the doors opened and she stepped inside, she simply stared at the row of floor numbers. She should go home, she knew, but Amanda was out somewhere and Julia didn’t really want to sit by herself and listen to silence. So on impulse, she hit the groundfloor button and leaned back against the elevator wall as the doors swished shut and the motor engaged.
Tugging her small designer bag higher on her shoulder, Julia stepped out of the elevator at the lobby and quickly crossed the ivory marble floor. A scattering of Oriental rugs in bright colors softened the cool sterility of the marble and muted the click of her heeled sandals as she walked.
The muted blue walls of the lobby were dotted with expensive artwork and mirrors with elegantly ornate, gold-rimmed frames. The ceiling was high, and a massive crystal chandelier hung in the center of the lobby almost directly over the doorman’s wide, mahogany desk. The front doors of 721 were heavy glass framed in gleaming mahogany, allowing passersby a glimpse into the elite, elegant lifestyle of the residents at 721 Park Avenue. Julia had always felt that somehow she and the others who lived there were something like specimens in a zoo. They stayed in their gilded cage while people could stop and stare in at lifestyles so different from their own.
Lots of happy thoughts tonight, she told herself.
“Hello, Henry,” Julia said as the doorman stepped out from behind his desk to hustle to the front door. Around five-foot-seven, Henry Brown had shoulders that stooped a little, brown hair, soft brown eyes and an obsequious manner.
“Hello, Ms. Prentice. Nice to see you, as always.”
Julia waited as he opened the door for her and held it. It would have been easier to do it herself, of course, but Henry was very territorial about his duties. “Thanks, Henry.”
He was still smiling as she stepped out onto the crowded street. Summer nights in New York were hot and sticky, and tonight was no exception. Traffic hummed, car horns blasted and an angry cabbie shouted at the pedestrians ignoring the light and streaming across the street in front of him. A halfhearted wind blew down Park Avenue and carried the scent of hot dogs from the corner street vendor’s wagon.
Julia smiled, tucked her bag more tightly beneath her left arm and moved into the steady flow of foot traffic. After sitting still for so long, it felt good to be outside, part of the rush and bustle of the city. She was alone and yet part of a crowd. And there was a certain kind of comfort in that. Here, she was only another body hurrying along the sidewalk. Here, no one expected anything of her. No one was watching her. No one paid any attention to her at all, as long as she kept moving and didn’t slow down the flow.
She didn’t have far to go, just a few steps to the Park Café on the corner. Most of the residents of 721 treated the little coffee bar as if it were an extension of the apartment building.
Tonight, though, Julia was hoping she wouldn’t run into anyone she knew. She didn’t actually feel up to chitchat, but neither did she want to go back to her own apartment and be by herself. She walked into the café and was greeted by the combined scents of cinnamon, chocolate and coffee. The hiss of the espresso machine played counterpoint to the brisk conversations and bursts of laughter.
There were wide, overstuffed chairs, oversize sofas and low-slung tables. Ferns bristled from copper baskets hanging from the ceiling, and soft jazz drifted through the overhead speakers. Julia placed her order, then carried her iced decaf drink and scone with her to a chair in the far corner. Then she curled up in the shadows and tried to be inconspicuous.
Max Rolland’s apartment was just down the street from the Park Café and he usually hit the trendy but convenient coffee spot at least once a day. In fact, it was here he’d first met Julia Prentice, the woman currently making him crazy.
He remembered his first sight of her with absolute clarity. She’d looked so cool and elegant, sitting by herself in a corner chair, watching the comings and goings of the other patrons as if she were in a box seat at a Broadway play. Her shoulder-length white-blond hair had been loose in soft waves around her face and her big blue eyes had fixed on him the moment he’d walked in.
He’d felt her gaze right down to his bones, and when he met it for the first time, he’d experienced a bloodburning heat that had forced him to approach her. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have. He wasn’t looking for the kind of relationship a woman like her no doubt wanted and needed. But that night, it was as if all bets had been off.
They’d met, talked, touched and ended up in his bed for a night like nothing he’d ever had before. Just the memory of her body moving beneath his, the soft silk of her skin, had him hard and aching again.
Which only fed the anger that continued to churn just beneath the surface of his steely calm. Damn the woman. Why wasn’t she answering his phone calls? And why the hell was he acting like some moonstruck teenager with his hormones in overdrive?
He picked up his black coffee—no designer crapola for him—and turned to leave. That’s when he felt it. The power of her gaze. Just like that first night two months ago.
Max shifted his gaze to the chair in the far corner and there, in the shadows, he found her.
Again.
And this time, he’d be damned if she’d get away so easily.

Two
Max headed across the crowded room, his gaze locked with Julia’s. He could feel the tension building in her body even at a distance. Her studied, cool mask of indifference wavered a little as his gaze bored into hers, and he actually enjoyed knowing that he made her nervous.
What man wouldn’t?
“Julia,” he said, his voice pitched low enough that no one but her would hear him.
“Hello, Max.”
One black eyebrow lifted. “Hello? That’s it? You’ve been avoiding me for two months and all you’ve got to say is hello?”
She broke off a tiny crumb of her scone, lifted it to her lips and chewed as though it were a chunk of beef jerky. Stalling. He recognized the signs. Well, she could delay their talk as long as she wanted. But now that he had her cornered, so to speak, she wasn’t leaving until she explained why the hell she’d been so studiously avoiding him.
He pulled the chair beside hers even closer, then sat down, perching on the edge of the seat. Cradling his coffee between his palms, he stared at her, drinking in the sight of her. So many nights he’d woken up with her image drifting through his brain. He’d told himself he was remembering her wrong. No woman was that beautiful. No woman could be such a stirring mix of both innocence and sensuality. He’d almost believed his own lies.
Until now.
Now that night with her came roaring back, and he saw that not only was she everything his memory had promised, she was more. The scent of her alone—something light and floral—was enough to tempt him. As if he needed tempting.
“I was going to call you tomorrow,” she was saying, and Max jerked himself back to the present. With a woman like Julia Prentice, it only made sense to pay attention.
“Were you.” It wasn’t a question. More of a statement, letting her know that he didn’t believe her for a minute.
She got the message, he told himself, since a slight flush colored her cheeks and had her dropping her gaze from his.
“Look, I know you’re angry,” she said, and a muscle in his jaw twitched.
“I passed angry a few weeks ago.”
Lifting her gaze to his again, she shook her head and said, “We had one night together, Max. And when it was over, you made it perfectly clear you were only interested in a sexual relationship.”
He laughed shortly and glanced around, reassuring himself that no one was listening in. No one was. Everyone here was huddled with a group of friends or sitting solitarily behind a computer, the glow of the screen reflecting off their faces. He and Julia might as well have been on an island.
“Didn’t seem to bother you that night,” he pointed out.
“No, it didn’t,” she admitted, and licked her dry lips. An action that had his body tightening to the point of actual pain. “We both got carried away that night. We did things that—”
“I’ve been thinking about ever since,” he interrupted her neatly, making sure she was filled with the memories that had been haunting him.
He’d never been with a woman so controlled on the outside and so completely uninhibited in bed. She’d gotten to him despite his efforts to maintain a safe emotional distance. And that infuriated him. Max wasn’t stupid. He knew her type.
The society woman. Born into a world he’d only entered through years of hard work and persistence. She carried a pedigree and he was a junkyard dog. Their differences were blatant. But in bed, those differences hadn’t mattered. In those hours together, they’d each found something in the other that they hadn’t anywhere else.
At least, that was what he’d thought.
“Believe me when I say,” she told him, “that I’ve been thinking about that night, too. A lot.”
“Then why are you dodging me? We both enjoyed ourselves.”
“Oh, yes…”
“So what’s keeping us from having another night—and more—just like it?”
Her gaze drilled into his. “I’m pregnant.”
If she’d pulled the chair he was sitting on out from under him, Max couldn’t have been more stunned. Her simple statement. Her clear, steady gaze. The grim determination of her mouth. All made it clear she was telling the truth. But if she expected him to believe that it was his baby, she was in for a big surprise.
He knew something she didn’t and because of that one fact, he had no doubt at all that he wasn’t the father of her child.
“Congratulations,” he said tightly, pausing for a sip of his coffee. The hot, strong liquid burned his tongue and he hissed in a breath, relishing the sting because it gave him something else to concentrate on besides the unspoken plea in her eyes. “Who’s the lucky father?”
She drew her head back, widened her eyes and said, “You are, of course.”
He laughed. Loud enough that several heads whipped around to see what was so damn funny. Then Max sent a glare around the room and the interested parties found something else to look at. When he turned his gaze back to Julia’s, he sneered at her. “Nice try, but I’m not buying it.”
“What?” She looked as stunned as he felt. “Why would I lie?”
“An interesting question,” Max said, and set his coffee cup down on a nearby table. He silently congratulated himself on the calm he was maintaining. No one would know by looking at him that anger had spiked—along with a sense of disappointment. Taking her drink from her, he set it down, too, then muttered, “Get your purse. We’re leaving.”
“I don’t want to leave.”
“And if I was taking a vote, that would matter to me,” he said. Then, standing, he simply stared down at her until she grumbled, grabbed her bag and stood up. Taking her elbow in a firm grip, Max steered her out of the coffee shop and onto Park Avenue.
“Where are we going?” Her much shorter legs were scrambling to keep up with his long strides, but Max didn’t slow down.
He was a force of nature that somehow managed to part the throngs crowding New York City’s sidewalks. People stepped aside, moved out of his way, as he tugged Julia along in his wake. This was not a conversation he was going to hold in public. If she wanted to play out this game, then she’d damn well do it at his place, where he could tell her exactly what he thought of blue-blooded women trying to run scams.
His apartment building was much newer than hers. Less old money, more nouveau riche billionaire. It suited Max down to the ground. The doorman scurried to open the chrome-and-glass door, then stepped back as Max half dragged Julia across the gleaming tile floor to the bank of elevators.
He stabbed one of the buttons and while he waited, he looked down at her. “Not another word until we’re alone.”
Stiffly, she nodded, wrenched her elbow from his grasp and quietly smoothed her long, blond hair back from her face. He glanced at her reflection in the elevator door, and in spite of everything else he was feeling, desire reached up and grabbed hold of the base of his throat.
The elevator arrived with quiet speed, and once they were inside, Max entered his key card and punched the button for the building’s only penthouse. He lived at the top of the world, with a view that told him every time he walked into the room that he’d made it. He was on top. All of his hard work had paid off big-time, and he’d made his dreams come true.
At the penthouse, the elevator opened into his foyer. Six thousand square feet of living space, and Max, but for the housekeeper who came in daily and then left every evening, lived alone now. He’d tried marriage once.
He’d learned his lesson the hard way.
And part of that lesson was the reason he knew Julia was lying to him.
Stepping aside, he waved a hand, inviting Julia inside. She’d been here before, of course, their one and only night together. But damned if he hadn’t been seeing the ghost of her every day since.
“You want a drink?” he asked, walking past her and down two short steps into the living room. “Oh, wait. You’re pregnant.”
She didn’t respond to his goading, merely asking, “Do you have any water?”
He ground his teeth together, poured himself a stiff shot of scotch, then retrieved a bottle of water from the wet-bar fridge. Then he walked to where she stood beside a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows that displayed an incredible view of the city and the harbor beyond.
“I’d forgotten what a nice place this is,” she said, taking the water and unscrewing the cap.
He liked it. It was decorated in a clearly masculine style, now that Camille was gone. A few rugs dotted the wide-planked oak floor. Oversize sofas and chairs were gathered in conversational knots that were rarely used. A fireplace hugged one wall and on either side were bookcases, stuffed with everything from fiction to the classics.
“It’s a lovely view,” she said.
“Yeah. You mentioned that the last time you were here.” He sipped at his scotch and let the fiery liquid burn away the cold inside.
She glanced up at him. “I don’t know why you insisted on coming here, Max. I’ve already told you what I had to say.”
“Uh-huh. You’re pregnant with my baby.”
“That’s right.”
“That’s a lie.”
Her hand tightened on the water bottle. “Why would I lie to you about this?”
“Just what I want to know,” he murmured. “The night we were together, you told me you’d just come off a long-term relationship. So what I’m wondering is, why are you trying to palm off his baby as mine?”
Julia took another drink of her water. “Terry and I hadn’t been…together like that in months before we broke up. We were friends.”
“Too civilized for hot, sweaty sex, was he? No wonder you came to me for a night of good times.”
“That’s not how it was,” Julia argued, wondering how this had gone so wrong. She hadn’t expected him to be happy about a surprise pregnancy, but she also hadn’t expected him to deny being the father. “When we met, you and I, there was a connection. I felt it. You must have, too. A sort of—”
“Don’t make it into something it wasn’t, sweet-heart,” Max said, reaching out to stroke the side of her face with his fingertips. “We were both needy that night and it was the best damn sex I’ve ever had. But it wasn’t more than that. There was no dulcet choir of angels singing. It was what it was.”
Julia felt as though he’d slapped her. This was exactly why she was no good at meaningless relationships. She needed to feel a bond with a man before she climbed into his bed. And that night, as swept away as she was by Max’s pure magnetism, she’d convinced herself that that bond was there. Could she possibly have been that wrong? Could she have mistaken pure sexual hunger for something else?
God, she was an idiot.
“So whatever you’re up to, it won’t work,” he said softly. Leaning to one side, he set his scotch down on a glass-topped table, then straightened up and moved in closer. “I don’t know what you’re after, Julia, but I know what we both need. What we both want.”
“No, you’re wrong,” she said as he pulled her into the circle of his arms. He held her tightly to him until there was no mistaking the hard, rigid length of him pressed against her. And just like that, her insides turned to liquid fire.
An ache blossomed between her legs, and the throbbing need she remembered from that one night with him began drumming in her veins.
His hands moved up and down her spine, sending tingling shards of awareness through her body, and suddenly, Julia couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t concentrate. Couldn’t quite remember that she’d planned to say no to him. To tell him that sex without commitment wasn’t what she was looking for.
He leaned down, brushed his mouth over hers and then pulled back, his gaze meeting hers, his eyes shining with a raw hunger that shook her to her core. “Tell me now,” he whispered. “If you mean no, say it now and I’ll stop.”
Say it! her brain ordered.
But just as quickly, her body took over. There was no future with Max. He didn’t believe her about their baby. And to prove it to him with a paternity test, she’d have to wait until the child was born. So there was no convincing him. If she had half a brain, she’d walk out of this gloriously appointed apartment, away from this man with his near magical touch and console herself with the fact that she’d done the right thing. She’d told him about the baby. It was his choice to not believe her.
But she didn’t want to go.
She wanted another night.
Every square inch of her body was clamoring for it. Every beat of her heart made the need for him more desperate. So she made another decision that would no doubt come back to haunt her.
“I’m not saying no,” she said, and lifted her hands to his chest. She ran her palms across his open-collared dress shirt and felt the hard muscles beneath.
He drew in a long, deep breath, then let her go just enough to slide his hands to her breasts. Through the fine linen, he cupped her and ran his thumbs across her hardened nipples. The lacy bra she wore was not enough to keep the heat of his touch from seeping into her skin.
“Then say yes,” he demanded, squeezing her breasts a little harder, just enough to make her need him even more.
“Yes, Max. Damn you, yes.”
Triumph shone in his eyes briefly, before he took her mouth with his again. The moment his lips touched hers, Julia closed her eyes on a sigh of surrender. Heat spiraled through her, burning through her veins, electrifying every cell. His tongue parted her lips and she took him inside, tangling her tongue with his in an erotic dance of expectation.
While he kissed her, his hands moved quickly, surely, to the buttons of her blouse. In seconds, they were open and her shirt was dropping off her arms to lie on the floor. Her bra came next and then his hands were on her breasts, stroking, rubbing, squeezing. His fingers tugged at her nipples all the while his mouth drove her insane with a need that nearly swamped her.
He broke the kiss abruptly and bent to take first one nipple, then the other into his mouth. His tongue and lips and teeth worked her flesh, playing her body as if she were a finely tuned instrument. Higher and higher she flew, and as she cupped the back of his head, holding his mouth to her, her eyes opened to slits. She stared out at the breadth of Manhattan, sprawled out below them, and the lights of the city blurred into a kaleidoscope of color.
“More,” he whispered against her skin.
“Yes, Max, more. Please, more.” She’d never felt as she did when she was with him. This one man was to her body what a lit match was to a stick of dynamite. Why was he the only one who could create such incredible sensations?
His fingers deftly undid the button and zipper of her slacks and he slid them down the length of her legs, tugging her lacy thong down at the same time. The cool air of the room kissed her skin and she shivered. She wasn’t cold, though. How could she ever be cold while Max’s hands were on her flesh?
“Hold on to me.” He knelt in front of her and waited until her hands fell to his broad, muscular shoulders. Then he lifted her right leg, laid it across his back and looked up at her.
Desire, passion and more glittered in his eyes and Julia felt caught in that steady, studying gaze of his. She trembled as, keeping his gaze locked with hers, he moved closer and inched his mouth toward the aching center of her. With his fingers, he parted the pale blond curls at the tops of her thighs, and Julia sucked in a gulp of air, capturing it in her lungs as if afraid she might never draw another.
But that stolen breath flew out of her in a rush the moment his tongue touched her most intimate flesh. He closed his eyes, leaned into her and began to gently torture her with clever strokes and long, damp caresses. Julia curled her fingers into his shirt and hung on for all she was worth. Her balance was precarious, but she wouldn’t have moved for all the money in the world.
She wanted to be just like this forever. To have the feel of his mouth on her, the warmth of his tongue, the brush of his breath, the slide of his fingers as he pushed first one, then two up and inside her.
“Max!” She swayed and he used his free arm to steady her. To hold her tightly in position so that he could continue his gentle invasion.
As his fingers moved in and out of her body, his mouth continued its delicious torture. He tasted and teased, built her internal fire into a conflagration, then eased back before she could burst into flame. He kept her on the edge of release, teetering dangerously close, but always just a breath away.
Julia’s body was a quivering mass of need and raw passion. She held on to him and rocked her hips against him as best she could. Her eyes opened again and she looked down at him as he took her, drove her, faster and faster until breathing was a memory and the only thing that mattered was the shattering climax that remained just out of reach.
“Max, please,” she whispered, her words broken. “Please, now. Now.”
His mouth pushed her onward, his fingers dancing in and out of her body, keeping time with the stroke of his tongue. And when she knew she couldn’t take another moment, Max gave her that one last stroke that sent her tumbling into oblivion, the only steady point in the universe being his shoulders beneath her hands.
Before the last tremor had coursed through her system, Julia was swung up into his arms. He looked down at her and she saw on his features the rigid control he was maintaining. She lifted one hand, cupped his cheek and said, “More, Max. I want you inside me.”
“You’ll have me,” he promised, already striding across the wide room toward a hall. Down that hall, his footsteps sounded out like a frantic heartbeat against the shining wood floor.
Julia couldn’t tear her gaze from him, drinking in the strong line of his jaw. The way his dark hair fell across his forehead. The shine in his grass-green eyes. Her body quickened, already needing him again.
His bedroom was a massive space, lit only by the moon and the city lights below. A bed big enough to comfortably sleep six sat positioned opposite the wall of windows. A red silk duvet was already pulled down and when Max dropped her onto the mattress, she felt as if she was surrounded by softness.
She watched, speechless, as he quickly tore off his clothes. Her gaze dropped to the hard, thick length of him, and everything in her tingled. Lifting her arms to him, she welcomed him to her and when he covered her body with his, Julia luxuriated in the feel of his flesh aligned with hers. Rough to smooth, their bodies moved against each other as if made for this and nothing more.
His touch sent her spinning again, whirling with emotions, sensations too many to identify. She didn’t try. Instead, she concentrated solely on being with him, and when he rolled onto his back and drew her atop him, Julia went willingly, eagerly.
How had they come to this? she wondered. That one magical night with him had created life. Life he didn’t believe in or care about. Life that she looked forward to nurturing.
Two strangers they’d been and really still were. And yet, here in this room, on this bed, she felt as if she’d known him forever. As if a part of her had always been waiting for him to walk into her life. As if her body recognized his.
His hands clamped her upper thighs as she rose above him. His mouth curved into a lazy smile and Julia couldn’t quite resist bending over him to kiss that mouth. Her hair fell on either side of them, a soft, blond curtain, shutting out everything but the two of them.
Mouths met, tongues twisted together and breath mingled, as if they were one. As if this was somehow meant to be. But before she could give that thought any more consideration, he lifted her hips and slowly, expertly, guided her down atop him.
Julia straightened, arched her back and hissed in a breath as he slowly, inexorably filled her. His hard length pushed into her heat and she took him deeply within. She was impaled on him and felt his body claim hers completely.
Staring down into his eyes, Julia sighed and wiggled her hips, grinding her body to his, and her reward was watching his eyes wheel.
“My turn,” she whispered, her voice a mere hush as her body began to move on his. She rocked her hips, she twisted and arched her back. She ran her hands up and down his chest, scraping her short, even nails along his skin, across his flat nipples.
He groaned and fixed his gaze on her as if he didn’t dare look away. As if nothing in the world was more important to him in that moment than she was. And it was a heady feeling. Julia kept her gaze locked with his as she lifted her hands, sliding them up her own body to cup her breasts.
As he watched, she tweaked her own nipples, and in the flare of excitement in his eyes, she felt her own eagerness build. She’d caught him, trapped him in her web now, and it was he who had to do nothing but to accept. To feel. To take that slippery climb to completion.
Pure, feminine power roared through her as Julia watched Max’s fixed gaze. She read his hunger, saw his need, felt his passion. Smiling, she lifted both arms high over her head, arched her back again and rode him harder, faster. Her hips bucked and her soft moans murmured into the darkness. His hands at her hips tightened until she felt the sting of each fingertip burning into her skin.
Then he slid one hand down to the point where their bodies were joined. He touched her. That one incredibly sensitive piece of flesh. He found that one spot and stroked it as she rocked on him, and in seconds, he’d turned the tables. Now it was Julia again, clamoring, breathlessly racing toward the peak awaiting them.
When she screamed his name and shattered in his grasp, she heard his own hoarse cry echo hers an instant later. Then his arms came around her, and holding her tightly, Max cushioned their fall back to earth.

Three
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.”

Four
Once she’d explained everything, Julia stopped talking, turned around and faced Max. She hadn’t been able to look at him while she told him about the blackmail letter. She couldn’t force herself to face him and admit that she didn’t have enough ready cash to pay the blackmailer what he/she wanted. And she really couldn’t bring herself to do exactly what she’d gone to him to do in the first place.
Ask for help.
Now, as she stared across the massive office to where he sat perched on the edge of his desk, long legs stretched out in front of him, feet crossed at the ankles, she took a breath and waited. Seconds ticked past, measured by the hard thump of her heartbeat. Her mouth was dry, her stomach was in knots, and looking into Max’s cool green eyes didn’t make her feel any better.
When the silence stretched on, Julia broke first. “Well? Aren’t you going to say anything?”
He folded his arms over his chest, cocked his head to one side and asked, “Why come to me with this?”
“Because it’s your baby I’m carrying,” she argued, and knew the moment she’d said the words it had been the wrong tack to take.
“Don’t start that again,” he said, lips so grimly compressed it was a wonder any words at all had escaped his mouth. “Let’s stick with the facts, shall we?” He pushed away from the desk and started to prowl the room.
Julia’s gaze fixed on him as he moved, his long legs making great strides, his footsteps soundless on the thick carpet. Diffused sunlight speared through the tinted windows, and the sounds of the city were so muted as to be nonexistent. It was as if she and Max were the only two people in the world.
How unfortunate that they weren’t friends.
“The way I see it,” he said, stalking the perimeter of the room, making her turn to keep him in sight, “you’re pregnant and you don’t want the world to know it just yet.”
“True.” Julia took a breath, held it for a second, then blew it out. “If this person makes good on his threat—” She broke off, unwilling to put into words the fears that had chased her since opening that damned envelope.
“You’ll be fodder for the gossips for months.”
“Years,” she corrected darkly. “My child would hear the whispers and I can’t let that happen.”
“Eventually, you’ll be faced with this problem, anyway,” he pointed out.
“I’ll think of something,” she said, hoping to convince herself, as well as Max. “But I can’t let this get out now. Not yet.”
“And the reason you’re not going to the father of this child?”
She glared at him. Did he honestly believe she was the kind of woman who would be pregnant with one man’s child while telling another that he was the father? His features were twisted into a sardonic smile that let her know it was exactly what he thought. “He won’t believe me,” she said.
“Ahh. So I’m not the only man in your life with a low tolerance for lies.”
She jerked as if he’d slapped her. What had she been thinking, coming to him? She’d deliberately walked into the lion’s den, asked him to open his mouth, then set her head inside it so she could allow him to bite it off!
“You know what?” Julia muttered, turning for the door. “This was a mistake. I see that now. Just…never mind. Forget I was here.”
He caught her before she could reach out and grab the doorknob. His grip on her upper arm was firm, unshakable. Still, she tried. When she failed, though, she lifted her gaze to his, gave him a glare that should have frozen him solid on the spot and said, “Let me go, Max.”
“I don’t think so.” Instead, he turned her around, steered her to his desk and gave her a gentle shove into one of the leather chairs. “We’re not through talking.”
She tilted her head back to give him another dirty look. “Oh, I think we’ve said everything there is to say.”
“Well, you’re wrong,” he told her, and sat down in the chair beside hers. Bracing both elbows on his knees, he locked his gaze with hers and said, “Bottom line it for me, Julia. Why’d you come to me?”
Her posture got even straighter, if possible. Her chin lifted and she gathered up what little dignity she had left and wrapped it around her as if it were an ermine cloak. “I don’t have enough readily available cash to pay this person. I thought maybe you could loan it to me.” When he didn’t say anything to that, she hurriedly added, “I’ll pay you whatever interest you think is fair and—”
“No.”
She blinked at him. “That’s it? Just ‘no’?”
“Paying a blackmailer’s never a good idea.” He sat back in his chair, propped his right foot on his left knee and idly tapped his fingertips against the arm of the chair. “You think a million will satisfy this person? No. Once you pay, you’ll be forced to keep paying.”
“Oh, God.” Perfect posture forgotten, Julia slumped into her own chair. How had this happened? Who was behind this and why? What had she ever done to make someone act so viciously? And what was she going to do?
“The way I see it,” Max said softly, as if plotting out a response even as he spoke, “your only choice here is to make your secret not worth telling.”
“Excuse me?” Julia looked at him. His green eyes were narrowed, his strong, hard jaw tight and his mouth hardly more than a grim line. This was not a man to take lightly. This was the face of the man who’d taken Wall Street by storm. A modern-day warrior who’d slain his would-be competitors by leaving their financial bodies littered in his wake.
This was Max Rolland.
The unstoppable force behind Rolland Enterprises.
And Julia had the distinct feeling she was about to find out firsthand what it was like to have Max the Marauder going into battle on her behalf.
“All you have to do is marry me.”
Did he actually say those words?
She couldn’t be sure. It was as if the whole world had suddenly stopped and tilted weirdly on its axis. If there was one thing she hadn’t expected, it was a proposal.
“Are you—Did you—Why would you—” Not a good sign. She couldn’t even string a complete sentence together.
He smiled at her and the smile was cold and calculating and didn’t even approach his eyes. “Surprised?”
“Uh…yes,” she admitted. “That would be a good way to put it.”
“You shouldn’t be.” Standing up again, Max moved to the wet bar across the room, poured himself a cup of coffee and then asked, “You?”
“No, thanks.”
“Right.” He nodded to himself and smiled. “No caffeine for you. Don’t know how you’ll manage.”
“I’ve got bigger things to worry about at the moment. And why should I have expected you to propose marriage to me? You don’t even believe that this is your baby.”
He took a sip of coffee, then walked back to where he’d left her. Looking down at her, he said, “No, I don’t. But that’s not the issue anymore.”
She choked out a laugh. “What is?”
“You can’t pay the blackmail. I won’t pay it. I’m guessing you don’t want your family to know about this pregnancy yet, either, am I right?”
More right than he knew. Julia got a cold chill just imagining breaking the “unwed mother” news to her parents. They’d once stopped speaking to her for six months because she’d dated a musician briefly.
The Prentices weren’t exactly your average American family. She and her parents had never been close—which made one question why she cared what they thought of her life choices. But even if Margaret and Donald Prentice were cold and mostly uncaring, they were the only family Julia had. And now, more than ever, she couldn’t afford to lose touch with that one fragile thread of connection.
“Yes,” she whispered, ducking her head because she couldn’t meet his eyes when she said it. “You’re right.”
“And the actual father of this child is no longer in the picture.”
Wryly, she muttered, “You could say that.”
“Seems to me, the one option open to you is marrying me. If we’re married, then there is no scandal about your pregnancy. The blackmail will go away, end of problem.”
“And beginning of another one,” she countered, standing up now because tilting her head back to look at him simply put her at too great a disadvantage. “Max, I really appreciate your very unexpected offer of help, but don’t you think it’s going too far?”
“Why?” He set his coffee cup down on his desk, dropped both hands to her shoulders and held her gently, yet firmly. “We’ve got plenty of chemistry together, Julia. That’s been proven.”
“But a marriage?”
“Doesn’t have to be forever,” he qualified. “We can put a time stamp on it. Call it a marriage for a year. My attorney will draw up some papers and—”
“A year?”
“Less time would look suspicious, wouldn’t it?”
“I suppose…” She felt as if she were being swept out to sea on a receding tidal wave. There was no ground beneath her feet. Nothing to grab hold of. Nowhere to turn. Nowhere to look but into his eyes. “But I still don’t understand why you would do this.”
“I want a son. An heir.” He let her go, walked around the edge of his desk and stared out at the skyline of the great city sprawled out in front of them. “That’s really all you need to know.” Turning back to her, his gaze speared hers. “I’ll marry you, give your child my name. He’ll be mine, legally and emotionally. You’ll sign legal papers asserting that fact.”
“And if the baby’s a girl?”
He looked startled—as if he hadn’t considered that possibility at all. Then he brushed the notion aside. “Doesn’t matter. Girl or boy, the baby’s mine the minute we get married. Agreed?”
No problem, she thought but didn’t say. The baby was his, despite what he thought, so she wouldn’t have any issues signing whatever documents he required. But there remained another question. “If we get married and want it to look real, we’ll have to live together.”
“Naturally.”
“As husband and wife.”
“Absolutely.” He came back to her, his gaze never leaving her face.
Julia felt heat start at the top of her head and slide all the way down to the soles of her feet. His gaze swept her up and down as surely as a touch, and just like that, Julia’s body slipped into overdrive.
When he touched her, she half expected to burst into flames. But all that happened was more heat, seeping from his hands on her shoulders down deep into her flesh.
“You’ll move into my place. My bed. As far as anyone else knows, this is a whirlwind romance.”
“Whirlwind…” She smiled in spite of everything. “Sounds appropriate.”
“And when we’re married,” he said softly, “I’ll expect you to tell me who the baby’s father really is. I’ll want to know who to watch out for. Who to guard against.”
“Max—”
He kissed her and Julia’s mind simply shut down. There was no room for thinking when sensation was spilling through her like a river of molten lava. Every cell in her body was alive and awake and clamoring for more.
Max’s hands swept up and down her spine, molding her body to his, pulling her in so tightly to him that Julia thought wildly for a moment that her body was going to slide right into his. Her arms came up and linked behind his neck, holding his head to hers, his mouth to hers. He parted her lips with his tongue and she lost her breath on a ragged sigh of pleasure so deep, so soul searingly complete, she gave herself up to the wonder of it.
All of this happened even while a small, still-rational corner of her mind explored this new situation. Marrying Max? Was she asking for more trouble? Was she blindly walking into a situation that was only going to lead to misery? Was she setting herself up to be broken and hurt?
Did she have a choice?
Max broke the kiss. He didn’t let her go, just lifted his head and looked down at her. “Well? What’s it going to be, Julia? Do we get married?”
Her head still reeling, her body whimpering, Julia looked up into those grass-green eyes. She saw the future stretching out unknown in front of them and knew that he was the best choice for her and her child. She didn’t really want to marry a man who thought her capable of lying to him about something so personal, so important. But if she didn’t marry Max and the blackmailer made good on his/her threat, then she and her child would be the subject of vicious gossip for years. Besides, it wasn’t as if she was marrying a stranger. He was the father of her child.
This was her best…her only real choice. So she would marry Max. And somehow, she would find a way to convince him that the child she carried was his. With that thought firmly in mind, she heard herself say, “Yes, Max. We get married.”
“Excellent.”
Then he kissed her again and the deal was sealed.
“A prenup? You’re getting married? When did this happen?”
Max looked across the table at his attorney and friend, Alexander Harper. Tall, with dark hair and dark eyes, Alex looked dangerous, which Max appreciated in an attorney.
“It’s a sudden decision,” Max allowed, taking a sip of the fifty-year-old scotch in front of him.
“Damn sudden if you ask me,” Alex said, lifting a hand to signal the waitress for a scotch like his friend. He’d arrived a little late for their business lunch and had some catching up to do. “Aren’t you the guy who swore he’d never get married again after what happened with Camille?”
Frowning a little, Max nodded. “This is different.” In a few short sentences, he laid it all out for his friend, who shook his head and thanked their waitress for his drink when it arrived. Lifting the heavy crystal tumbler, he took a sip, set the glass down again and said, “That’s a hell of a thing, Max. And Julia Prentice is quite the catch.”
Max knew that. Hell, Julia’s bloodlines were better than Camille’s. The Prentice family was old money. They’d been around forever and guarded their name with the tenacity of a pen of pit bulls. Wryly, he admitted silently that he’d love to see the faces of Julia’s parents when she broke it to them that she’d be marrying him. A self-made billionaire, son of a truck driver and a housewife.
His gaze swept the interior of the small, upscale restaurant. Only a dozen or so tables filled the woodpaneled room, and those tables were covered in snowy-white linen. Waiters wearing black slacks and crisp white shirts moved through the room with silent efficiency. The darkly tinted windows looked out on Fifth Avenue, and for a moment, Max distracted himself by staring at the crowds of people streaming along the sidewalks.
“So,” Alex said, drawing his attention back to the conversation at hand, “you don’t believe her about the baby, but you’re marrying her, anyway.”
“That’s about the size of it. I need you to draw up a prenup and also a document stating I’m the father of her child.” The more he’d thought about this situation in the hour or so since Julia had left his office, the more Max liked the situation. He was getting a bed partner who lit his sheets on fire, and he was getting the child he so badly wanted. It was a win-win as far as he could see. And knowing going in that the woman he was about to marry was a beautiful liar gave him the advantage. Again. “I want it signed, notarized…hell, I want it bronzed, before the ceremony.”
“All doable,” Alex said, then pinned his friend with a hard look. “But tell me something. Why are you so fast to discount the possibility that you are the baby’s father?”
Frowning again, Max said, “You know why.”
“Yeah, Camille told you the tests came back saying you were infertile.”
Max scowled at him. Alex had never been a fan of Camille’s. Even knowing that his friend had been right didn’t change things. “I saw the damn test results.”
“You saw what Camille wanted you to see.”
They’d been over this before and Max was tired of the trip. So he cut his friend off at the pass. “Look, I don’t want to talk about ancient history. I just need you to take care of these details, all right?”
“Sure, Max,” Alex said with a shrug. “I’ll take care of it. How soon do you need it done?”
“The wedding’s in two weeks.”
Alex whistled, low and long. “I’ll have to hustle to get it all set up.”
“Well, my friend,” Max said with a self-satisfied smile, “that’s why you make the big bucks, isn’t it? Now, let’s eat. I’m picking Julia up in an hour to go see the police.”
“At least that much makes sense to me,” Alex said, picking up his leather-bound menu to peruse it. “Who’re you going to be talking to? Do you have a name?”
“A Detective McGray,” Max said, sliding his gaze over the restaurant’s offerings. “He’s in charge of the investigation into the death of the woman who lived in Julia’s building. I figured, the blackmail’s in the building, too. Might as well see the man who’s already investigating what’s happening at 721.”
Detective Arnold McGray looked tired.
His salt-and-pepper hair stood on end and his eyes had dark shadows beneath them. A five-o’clock shadow stubbled his jaws, and his dark blue tie had been loosened at his undone collar.
“Let me see if I have this straight,” he said, glancing down at the notepad he’d been writing on since Julia had started talking. “You’re being blackmailed and you have no idea who might be behind this?”
“That’s right.” Julia stiffened, instinctively uncomfortable in the bustling detective area of the local NYPD precinct building.
Around her, overworked and underpaid police officers were hunkered down over desks littered with manila file folders, towering stacks of papers and ringing phones. The cacophony was deafening. A drunken homeless man was singing to himself, a hooker in a bright red dress was trying to proposition her way out of an arrest, and a bearded younger man rattled the handcuffs that kept him locked in his chair.
This was so far out of Julia’s everyday world, she didn’t know where to look.
“And you think this might have something to do with the death of Marie Endicott?” McGray’s voice was pitched just loud enough to carry over the noise.
“What?” Julia shook herself and frowned. “No, I mean, I don’t know. It’s possible, I suppose…” She glanced at Max, sitting beside her.
Even in this setting, his personal stamp of power was easy to read. He didn’t look intimidated or threatened by the surroundings. Clearly, he was a man completely at home and confident of himself wherever he was.
As if picking up on her uncertainty, Max took the thread of her conversation and finished it himself. “Detective McGray,” he said, “the truth is, my fiancée and I have no idea who might be behind this blackmail attempt. My feeling was that we should bring the matter to you, as it could very well be part of what’s happened at my fiancée’s building.”
Julia had to force herself not to jerk in reaction to the word fiancée. He’d used it twice, as if making a point either to her or the detective. Which? she wondered, and then asked herself if it mattered.
She’d already agreed to marry him. And though a part of her was worried about what would happen, another, more cowardly part was grateful for the reprieve Max had offered her. The fact that the child she carried actually was his, was, she thought, ironic.
“I appreciate you bringing the matter to my attention,” McGray said, slumping back in his tattered chair. “Frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a connection.”
“Really?” Julia asked.
“Seems unlikely that two such unrelated events would happen in the span of a couple of weeks—in a place that’s seen no trouble at all in more than ten years.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Max said, reaching out to give Julia’s cold hand a squeeze.
“Well, I’ve got all I need for the moment,” the detective said, standing up behind his desk. “I’ll look into this and if I find anything, I’ll be in touch.”
Max stood up, too, and held out one hand. When the older man shook it, Max thanked him. Then almost before she knew what was happening, Julia found herself being steered out of the police precinct and led outside.
“Do you really think the blackmailer has something to do with what happened to Marie Endicott?” Julia asked when they were alone.
He glanced over her head at the teeming streets, then led her down the steps to the sidewalk. Lifting one hand to hail a cab, Max glanced down at her. “My gut says yeah. They’re related.”
“Then that means…”
“We’re not sure what it means,” he cautioned, his green eyes going cold and hard. “But yes, your blackmailer could have been involved in that woman’s death.”
“Oh, God.” Julia hadn’t wanted to think of Marie committing suicide. But the thought of a murderer walking free through 721 Park Avenue was even more disquieting.
A chill swept over her, making her shiver despite the cloying heat and humidity pounding down on the city.

Five
Max stared up at the edifice of 721 Park Avenue, craning his neck to take in the entire fourteen-story brick facade. A prewar structure, 721 was a classic in the old style. The building settled into the corner of Park and Seventieth like an old woman in a comfortable chair.
The city itself had grown and changed over the years, but the old building remained the same, sitting in the heart of the most expensive slice of real estate in the United States. Politicians, celebrities, old money and new, all gravitated to the Upper East Side of New York. And this place was one of the crown jewels of the neighborhood.
All around him, the city pulsed with life and energy. People streamed past him on the sidewalk, and on the streets car horns blasted out a cacophony of sound.
Max ignored it all, though, as his gaze fixed on the roof and his thoughts turned to the woman who’d fallen to her death from that very roof. Then he thought about the blackmail attempt on Julia and asked himself, just what the hell was going on at 721? He agreed with the police detective they’d spoken to the day before. It seemed highly unlikely that two such-out-of-the-normal events could happen within a couple of weeks of each other and not be related somehow.
Lowering his gaze to the glass door that opened into the quietly elegant lobby of the building, Max spied the doorman wandering over to his desk. Smiling to himself, Max stepped up, pulled open the front door and stepped into the cool quiet of the lobby. Vastly different from his own building’s entry, 721 reeked of oldworld elegance and a time long past.
Instantly the doorman’s gaze snapped up to meet Max’s. “Good afternoon,” he said. “May I help you?”
Max walked up to the impressive mahogany desk behind which the much smaller man stood. Taking a quick look around the lobby area, Max spotted the mailboxes for the tenants and smiled to himself. Just as he’d thought. The doorman would have had a good view of whoever might have slipped a blackmail letter into Julia’s mail slot.
Rather than answering the man’s question, Max gave him a tight smile and said, “You’re Henry, right?”
The doorman looked surprised. “Yes, sir. Henry Brown.”
“My fiancée lives in this building,” Max said, and realized that it was getting easier to say the word fiancee. “Ms. Prentice.”
There was a flicker of surprise in Henry’s dark brown eyes, which disappeared a moment later. “Are you here to see her, then? She’s not at home at the moment, but I’d be happy to deliver a message for you.”
Trying to get rid of him? Max wondered. “No,” he said, “actually, I came to talk to you.”
“Me?”
Max had made it a point over the years to learn how to read people. It came in handy in negotiations and was invaluable when meeting new clients or prospective business partners. And every instinct Max had told him that Henry was nervous. It didn’t show clearly, of course, and if he hadn’t been looking for the signals, he might have missed them himself.
But Henry’s gaze was furtive, darting around the lobby as if looking for help that wasn’t going to come. His right hand was fisted on his desk and the fingers of his left hand tapped restlessly against a pad of paper with 721 in elegant script across the top.
Interesting, Max thought and smiled inwardly. “Yes, Henry. I want you to think back on the last few days.”
“About what?”
“Have you seen anyone in here who didn’t belong?” Max leaned one arm on the desktop. “Anyone who might have dropped an envelope into one of the mailboxes?”
Henry blinked as if he was stepping out of the shadows and into the light. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, then he swallowed hard and shook his head. “No, sir, I haven’t. And nothing like that would happen without me seeing it. I’m on duty right here. No one would get in who didn’t belong.”
“I did,” Max pointed out.
Henry licked his upper lip, blew out a breath and said, “What I meant was, no one could stay inside who didn’t talk to me first. And no one but the mailman and the residents go near the mailboxes.”
“You’re sure about that?”
Henry lifted his narrow chin, met Max’s gaze with the direct stare of an honest man and said, “Absolutely.”
Max was sure about something, too.
Henry was lying.
Max couldn’t prove it, but he knew it down to his bones. And that made him wonder what exactly was going on at 721. The old place looked quiet, dignified. But there were undercurrents here and Max didn’t like it. He didn’t want to think about Julia staying here. One woman was dead and Julia herself was being blackmailed.
Something was very wrong in this building.
“You’re pregnant?”
Julia winced as her mother’s voice hit a particularly high note. She’d known this was going to be an ugly meeting. She had to face her parents not only with the news of her pregnancy, but her upcoming marriage, as well.
She sighed a little as her mother stood up from her silk-brocade chair and stared down at Julia as though she were a particularly appalling bug. Just imagine, she thought, what this scene would have been like if you hadn’t been able to tell them you’re getting married.
The sting of their only daughter being an unwed mother was something her parents might never have recovered from. All her life, Julia had been a disappointment. She knew that. Her parents had made sure of it. And all of her life, a part of Julia had tried to make them proud. To make them love her. Despite her efforts, nothing had changed.
She looked up at her mother and felt…nothing. No connection. No bond. No threads of affection or familial loyalty. Just…nothing. As sad as that made her, Julia realized that accepting this was the first step in finding her own kind of peace. The first step in building her own family. Her own world, separate and apart from the people who’d made her.
“Yes,” Julia said, smiling into her mother’s disapproving gaze, “I am. And my baby’s father and I will be getting married in just a couple of weeks.”
“That’s something, I suppose,” her father muttered from the chair where he sat glaring at her. “As long as you’re married quickly, no one will have to know the reason.”
Julia glanced at him and noticed that his bushy gray eyebrows were drawn together in a too-familiar frown of disgust. She couldn’t remember a single time in her life when her father had held her, hugged her, told her that she was pretty or that he loved her. How strange it was to sit here in this place and realize the sad truth of her life.
She didn’t have a family. She had biological parents. That was all.
And because she knew that they would never approve of her or give her the kind of love she’d once longed for, Julia was free. Free to speak her mind. To tell them what she’d feared telling them only days before.
Straightening in her chair, she clasped her fingers together tightly in her lap and said, “People will know I’m going to have a baby, Father.”
“Eventually,” he conceded with a shake of his head.
“Donald, you’re missing the point here,” Margaret Prentice snapped. “This will make us grandparents. For heaven’s sake, I don’t want people thinking I’m old enough to be a grandmother. This is a disaster.”
“Thank you,” Julia muttered.
“You will not speak to us in such a fashion, Julia,” her mother said as her cold blue gaze fixed on her daughter. “At the very least, you owe us civility and respect.”
“Respect is a two-way street, Mother.”
Margaret laughed shortly. “Respect? You expect us to respect you for being stupid enough to get pregnant? You ask too much.”
“Having a baby isn’t stupid,” Julia argued.
“You’re not even married,” her father said.
“I will be soon,” she responded, feeling a fire begin to build inside her. For years, when there were “discussions” like this one, she’d kept her mouth shut, done what was expected of her. But not anymore. She owed her child more than that. She owed herself more than that.
“How could you do this to me?” Margaret’s voice shrieked a little.
“I didn’t do anything to you, Mother…”
“None of my friends are grandmothers,” her mother said hotly. “How will this look to people? How can I face my friends?” She crossed her too-thin arms over her narrow chest, but not tightly enough to wrinkle the cream-colored silk blouse she wore tucked into the waistband of linen pants the color of wheat. Margaret’s elegantly styled hair was short and dyed honey-blond every four weeks. Her manicure was perfect, her makeup expertly applied, and her unlined face was a billboard for the best cosmetic surgeons in the city.
“Mother—”
“Don’t speak to me.”
“If we keep the ceremony quiet,” Donald Prentice mused more to himself than anyone else, “it’s possible—”
“What?” Margaret turned on her husband like a cobra. “That no one will notice when Julia’s body begins to swell? People will notice, I assure you. And my friends will never let me forget that I’m a grand-mother, for pity’s sake.”
It was as if Julia wasn’t even present. They talked around her, over her, about her, as if she wasn’t their daughter at all, but some annoying distant relative who’d made a claim on them they didn’t care to acknowledge.
This she was used to. She’d grown accustomed to being nothing more than an annoyance to the people who should have loved her the most. Her succession of nannies had given her the only affection she’d known in her childhood, and as she grew older, Julia had realized that her parents had never wanted children in the first place.
At fifteen, she’d actually heard her mother telling a friend one day about “accidentally” getting pregnant and what a horror it had been. Julia glanced around the living room of the home where she’d grown up and realized that she’d never once felt comfortable there. Never once had she felt as though she belonged.
And that still held true. The walls were a glaring white with only a few abstract paintings lending garish splotches of color to the cold room. The floors were white tile and the chairs and couches, upholstered in subtle, differing shades of beige, were designed more for appearance than comfort. Even the smell of the house was sterile, as if the air in the place had long since died and was only being recycled by the people who continued to breathe it.
Rubbing at her temples, Margaret glared at Julia. “Who, may I inquire, is the father of this unfortunate child?”
Julia squirmed in her chair and cupped one hand over her still-flat abdomen as if she could prevent her baby from hearing its grandparents’ dismissal of its very existence. “His name is Max. Max Rolland.”
Margaret frowned, though her too-tight forehead prevented it from showing. “Rolland. Hmm. No, I don’t believe I know any Rollands. Donald?”
Julia waited, knowing that this news would completely wipe away her parents’ fury at hearing about the baby. Discovering that their only child was about to marry a man with no pedigree would put everything else they’d heard into perspective for them.
Strangely enough, Julia was almost looking forward to their reaction.
“Max Rolland…” Her father repeated the name thoughtfully.
“Who are his people?” Margaret demanded.
“His parents have passed away,” Julia told her.
“I didn’t ask where they were,” Margaret reminded her, “I said who are they?”
“I know the name Rolland,” her father said from his chair. “I just can’t place it.”
“Max is from upstate,” Julia told her mother. Then, smiling, she took a breath and added, “His father was, I believe, a truck driver and his mother was a house-wife.”
Margaret slapped one hand to her chest and staggered backward as if someone had shoved a sword through her body.
“Rolland!” Donald Prentice shouted the name and pounded one fist against the arm of his chair. “That’s how I know the name. That upstart running roughshod over Wall Street. He’s made something of a name for himself, but—”
“A truck driver?” Margaret moaned softly, dropped back into her chair and lifted one hand to cover her eyes. “Oh, dear God, how did this happen?”
Julia paid no attention to the drama. “Max is very successful,” she said. “He’s a…good man.” That might have been a bit of a stretch, she told herself, but at the same time, she realized that only a good man would have proposed to help her out. Whether he saw it that way or not, if he’d been a different sort of man, he’d have left her to solve her own problem or drown in her own misery.
“A housewife?” Margaret whispered the word as if afraid someone might hear her.
“People say he’s cold and ruthless,” Donald was saying, though his wife wasn’t listening and Julia didn’t want to hear him. “Could be quite a force in the city if he had a family name behind him.”
“He’s doing just fine without a ‘name,’” Julia argued.
“No doubt,” Donald said with a frown. “But there are limits to what a man like him can accomplish.”
“Because his blood isn’t blue?” Julia stood up and looked at her parents each in turn. “That’s ridiculous. Max Rolland is a good, hardworking man who made his own fortune rather than inherited it.”
“Exactly,” Donald said with a slow shake of his head.
Sunlight streamed through the windows, glancing off the white walls and floors until Julia’s eyes stung with the cold, hard brilliance of it all. Why had she been so concerned with telling her parents about her baby? Why had she been so terrified that she might lose this one slender thread of family?
The truth was, she’d never had a family to lose. She’d always been alone.
Until now, anyway.
Now she had her baby.
And she had Max.
“You can’t possibly be serious about marrying this person.” Her mother posed it as a sentence, not a question.
“I’m more serious about it with every passing second,” Julia assured her, picking up her purse and slipping the slim leather strap over her shoulder.
“Julia, don’t do something you’ll regret,” her father warned.
“I’ve already done that, Father,” Julia told him as she turned to leave. “I came here expecting support. I’m not sure why, exactly, but this visit is definitely something I regret.”
She walked briskly across the room, through the doorway and down the stairs where a maid in uniform waited to open the front door for her. Julia reached the bottom of the steps and turned when her mother called her name sharply.
Margaret Prentice stood at the head of the stairs, looking as cool and unapproachable as a queen. “What is it, Mother?”
“Don’t think for one moment, young woman, that your father and I will acknowledge your marriage to this man. If you do this, you turn your back on your family.”
A small twist of fear became a knot in the pit of her stomach, but then, as she drew one long breath, that knot dissolved. Strange, Julia thought, that it was at the moment her life was most in turmoil that she should find such an incredible sense of peace.
“I understand, Mother. Goodbye.”
The door closed firmly behind her.
By the following day, Julia was too busy to spend much time worrying about her parents. She had a wedding to plan and a move to organize.
“It’s going to be great,” Amanda said as they settled into a couple of armchairs at the Park Café. Reaching into her leather briefcase, Amanda pulled out a thick day planner and quickly scanned her notes. “I know Max wants a fast wedding,” she said with a wink for Julia, “but that doesn’t mean it can’t be fabulous. I’ve got the names of some caterers and I’d like you to look at some samples from the florist I’ve been working with.”
Julia had notes of her own to check and they didn’t have anything to do with her upcoming wedding. She was in the middle of a fund-raiser for a Manhattan shelter, and there were still one or two things that had to be nailed down. “Why don’t you pick the caterer, Amanda? I swear I haven’t had enough of an appetite to even think about food lately.”
Her friend frowned a bit, reached for her ice blended mocha and took a sip. Her gaze fixed on Julia until she squirmed uncomfortably.
“You haven’t been feeling well ever since you went to see your folks,” Amanda said.
“Can you blame me?” Julia forced a smile and told herself she’d be fine. She’d be great. She had her work, she had her baby and soon she’d have her very own husband, complete with prenup, baby contract and suspicion.
“No,” Amanda said, “who can blame you? I’m just saying, the wedding’s coming and you really should pay attention.”
Julia closed her folder, sighed and leaned back into her chair. The café was crowded at lunchtime, and the noise level was such that Julia felt safe enough talking about what was really bothering her. “It’s not the wedding or my parents,” she said, leaning in a bit closer. “It’s the fact that I’m moving in with Max in a few days.”
Amanda laughed. “Honey, you’re marrying him.”
“I know, I know.” Julia frowned and told herself she was being foolish. “But living with him is a little…”
“Exciting?”
“I was going to go with ‘unnerving.’”
“Why?”
“Because of the way we’re getting married,” she said. “And the fact that he still doesn’t believe me about the baby.”
“Well, he’s an idiot. We already decided that.” Amanda went back to her lists.
“I know, but how’m I supposed to convince him that he is the father?”
“You may not be able to until the baby’s born. Then you can do a paternity test.”
“So that leaves me with seven months of my husband thinking I’m a liar.”
Amanda closed her folder, picked up her mocha and idly twirled the straw through the thick, pale brown liquid. “You know I’m with you, no matter what, right?”
“Of course.”
She smiled. “And you know I’m completely excited that you’re letting me take over your apartment when you move in with Max…”
“I know.”
“But,” Amanda said, leaning forward to pat Julia’s hand, “if you’re really worried about this, don’t do it.”
“What?” Julia glanced across the room when someone laughed too loudly. Then, looking back at Amanda, she said, “I have to.”
“No, you don’t. You’ve already faced the worst part. You’ve told your parents.”
“And the blackmail?” Julia shook her head slowly, despite being grateful for what Amanda was trying to tell her. God knew, after the afternoon with her parents, Julia was even more thankful to have Amanda’s unswerving support. But the simple truth was, she had to marry Max. Otherwise, her child would be the subject of vicious gossip before it was even born. And she wouldn’t allow that. “I appreciate it, sweetie,” Julia said. “But I have to marry Max.”
“Getting married for the wrong reasons is so not a good idea,” Amanda said softly.
“Marriage for any reason isn’t usually a good idea.” A deep voice resonated from just behind Julia and she swiveled to look up at the man staring down at her.
“Hello, Max.”

Six
“Okay,” Amanda said, grabbing her drink and standing up in one smooth move. “That’s my cue to hit the road.”
“You don’t have to go on my account,” Max said, already dropping onto the couch beside Julia.
“No, it’s okay. I’ve got lots of calls to make,” Amanda told him, then shifted her gaze to Julia’s. “We’ll talk later at home, okay?”
“Sure, see you later.” Julia watched her friend leave, then turned her head to look at Max, who was studying her carefully.
“Your friend trying to talk you out of this?”
“She’s worried about me.”
“Should she be?” He ran the tips of his fingers down the length of her arm, and even through her linen shirt Julia felt heat, a heat that began to slide through her veins.
“Good question,” she said, and shifted slightly, drawing her arm back and away from him. How could she think when he was touching her?
“Is there an answer?” He eased back, the sides of his black suit jacket falling to either side of him, displaying what she knew to be a rock-solid chest and abdomen hidden beneath the custom-made dress shirt.
She lifted her gaze to his and blew out a breath. “I don’t know. Max, Amanda’s my friend. She’s trying to be supportive, letting me know she’s on my side no matter what.”
“She knows what’s going on?” he asked. “The baby? The blackmail?”
“Yes.” Julia glanced around the coffee shop, checking to see who was watching them. Who might be listening. She knew darn well that whoever was behind the blackmail had to have overheard her and Max talking about the baby in here. When she looked back to him, though, she let the worry go. The blackmail had already happened. What more could this person do to her? “I told her everything.”
“Including the name of the father of your baby?” he wondered aloud, his gaze narrowing slightly.

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