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Park Avenue
Scandals
High-Society Secret
Pregnancy
Maureen Child
Front Page
Engagement
Laura Wright
Prince of Midtown
Jennifer Lewis

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High-Society Secret Pregnancy

About the Author

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 ground-floor 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 blood-burning 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, sweetheart,” 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.