Maureen Child – Park Avenue Scandals: High-Society Secret Pregnancy (страница 16)

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

“What’re you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Max, I’m perfectly capable of—”

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

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

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

“Deliriously.”

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

“Because I didn’t think of it then.” She scooted toward the edge of the bed, dragging the sumptuous duvet with her.

When she was on her feet again, Max walked toward her, looked down into her eyes and said, “I don’t want you doing any heavy lifting or pushing. Understood?”

She tipped her head to one side and he tried not to notice how her blond hair looked lying against her throat. “Are you really worried, Max?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re pregnant.”

“Yes,” she said, smiling, “I know.”

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

“Ridiculous?”

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

“If we’re getting married, Max—”

“If?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, I can’t.”

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

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

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

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

But did it matter?

He’d gotten what he wanted.

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

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

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

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

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

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