Park Avenue Secrets: Marriage, Manhattan Style

Hanna snatched the phone from Elizabeth’s hand and raised it to her ear. “Reed, it’s Hanna. I’m really sorry. I think I gave Elizabeth one too many margaritas.” After a pause, she said, “No. I won’t let her drive.” She handed the phone back to Elizabeth.

“Hello, darling,” said Elizabeth, then she hiccupped.

“You’re drunk?”

“A little,” she admitted. Not that it changed the facts. Reed was in all likelihood cheating on a drunken spouse, that was all.

“I’m sending a car,” he told her.

“Are you drunk, too?”

“No, I’m not drunk.”

“But you’re not coming yourself?”

“I’m in Long Island. I just left my parents’.”

“And if I called them?” Elizabeth couldn’t help but challenge. Maybe he was in Long Island, or maybe he was holed up in a hotel room somewhere.

“Why would you call them?”

“I don’t know. To say hi. Whatever.”

“Elizabeth, it’s time for you to stop drinking.”

“Sure.” She was feeling a little dizzy anyway. And a hangover wouldn’t help the job search. And, sex or no sex tonight, she was finding herself a job in the morning and getting started on her very own life.

Reed waited in the lobby for Elizabeth’s car to arrive. Henry was behind his desk, looking nervous about something. The man’s gaze twitched from Reed, to the back of the lobby, then out to the sidewalk. Strange.

But then the dark sedan pulled up, and Reed hustled through the double doors to meet Elizabeth.

He helped her upstairs and into the penthouse, tossed her coat on the sofa and took her straight through to the bedroom. There he gently laid her back on their bed and slipped off her shoes.

“You know,” she sighed, her eyes closed, hair disheveled, one of her sexy stockings drooping down. “It shouldn’t be this hard for two married people to have sex.”

“No,” he agreed. “It shouldn’t be this hard.” While she lay with her eyes closed, breathing deeply, he gently removed her jewelry and unbuttoned her dress, his breath catching at the sight of her camisole and skimpy panties.

“Reed?”

“Yes?”

“Promise me something?”

He raised his gaze to her sweet, relaxed expression. “Of course.”

“If I fall asleep—” She stopped.

“Yes?” he prompted.

“Let’s make love anyway.”

He shook his head, allowing himself a tired smile. “Like that’s going to happen.”

“Good,” she said with a smile of her own.

He leaned down. “Elizabeth, I’m telling you no.”

The smile turned to a frown. “You’re always telling me no.”

“I never tell you no.”

She had him well and truly wrapped around her little finger. There was almost nothing he could deny her.

“I got all dressed up,” she complained.

His gaze dipped down to the black lace highlighting her cleavage. “That, you did.”

“Hanna said I looked sexy.”

He grinned. “Just how drunk are you?”

She giggled. Then she tilted her chin in determination. “I am getting a job.”

“We’ll talk about that in the morning.”

Her expression changed, and she reached out to him. “Please, make me pregnant tonight.” And then her arms went limp, slinking down to the bed, and her body relaxed into sleep.

“Not like this,” he whispered, smoothing back her hair and kissing her on the forehead. “Never like this.”

He gently removed the rest of her clothes, and tucked her under the covers, stepping back to gaze at her beauty and vulnerability. His cell phone rang, and he quickly opened it, afraid of disturbing her. But she didn’t even stir.

Still, he kept his voice low and moved out of the room. “Hello?”

“It’s Collin. Selina’s at my place.”

Reed glanced at his watch. Nine-thirty. “Is anything wrong?”

“Can you come down?”

“Why don’t you come up here. Elizabeth’s asleep.” For some reason, Reed didn’t want to leave her alone right now.

“Good enough. Be right up,” said Collin, signing off.

Reed pocketed his cell phone then pulled the bedroom door closed. Odds were, they’d completely missed their window of opportunity for this month. Because, he expected it to be twenty-four hours before Elizabeth was feeling remotely romantic again.

And she’d be upset about that.

Well, he was upset, too.

In fact, he was beginning to feel bone weary. The blackmail, the murder, the SEC, all the usual problems at Wellington International. Added to that, his father’s values and the persistent infertility trouble were wearing him down. He needed to fix something, anything. But he was operating on every front and, so far, it was to no avail.

For the first time in Reed’s life, he wondered if hard work and ingenuity would be enough.

There was a light knock on the front door, and he crossed the foyer to answer it, escorting Collin and Selina to his home office where they took seats around a polished black table.

Reed directed the conversation. “I thought you had somebody on Elizabeth,” he told Selina.

She looked startled. “I do.”

“She went downtown today. I need a report on things like that.”

She jotted down a note in her book. “Sure.”

Collin looked at him strangely. “Did something happen while Elizabeth was downtown?” he asked.

“She visited a friend. But I didn’t know where she was.”

“Just to be clear,” Selina added. “Do you want a report on Mrs. Wellington’s daily activities or on potential threats?”

Reed took in the expressions on their faces. “I’m not spying on my wife,” he protested. But neither did he want her wandering around drunk downtown when there might be a murderer on the loose.

“Perhaps if we changed the nature of the operation,” suggested Selina. “Put Joe a little closer to Mrs. Wellington. Say, as her driver? That way, he doesn’t have to stay concealed, and he can report to you at intervals.”

“I like it,” said Reed. “What else do you have?”

“Kendrick,” said Collin.

“You found him?”

Collin shook his head. “He’s still in Washington, elusive as ever. But some more information has come to light.”

“Does it help us?”

Collin and Selina glanced at each other.

“Unfortunately,” said Collin, “Hammond and Pysanski also invested in Ellias and made a bundle.”

“But, they’re—”

“Kendrick’s former business partners.”

Reed rocked back in his chair.

“It does look pretty bad,” said Selina.

Reed couldn’t help but defend himself. “Do you honestly think that if I were going to put together a conspiracy to insider trade, that this would be my master plan? A senator giving a heads up on a contract award to four of his closest associates, hoping nobody would notice? It’s lame-ass. It’s beyond stupid.”

Collin leaned forward, eyes hard as he mimicked Reed. “‘I’m a smarter criminal than that, Your Honor.’ Is that really going to be the cornerstone of your defense?”

“You got a better one?”

“Not at the moment. But if I don’t come up with something better than that, Harvard Law School wasted a lot of time and money on me.”

“I want this behind me,” Reed growled. “There are problems cropping up in the Irish merger, and Germany is talking about changing their safety standards. I don’t have time for distractions.”

“I’m meeting with the SEC tomorrow,” said Selina.

“Take Collin with you.”

Something twitched in her expression.

“What?” asked Reed.

She hesitated. “Sometimes Collin cramps my style.”

Reed felt his hands curl involuntarily into fists. “There are problems between you two?”

“Stylistic differences,” said Collin.

“I take a tough stance. He undermines it.”

Reed glanced from one to the other. “You’re kidding me?” With all they were facing, these two couldn’t get together on their interview techniques?

“Work it out. I want you both in that meeting.”

Selina’s gaze slid to Collin. He nodded, then so did she.

“Have Joe stop at the office in the morning,” said Reed, wrapping things up. “I’ll bring him by and introduce him to Elizabeth.”

Morning was not kind to Elizabeth.

Rain spattered on the penthouse roof, tapping against her bedroom balcony doors, pounding its way into her fragile skull. She pulled the comforter over her head, praying her housekeeper, Rena, wasn’t planning to vacuum today.

Slamming back margaritas on an empty stomach had obviously been a bad idea. It had been a few years since Elizabeth had gotten drunk. And, right now, she was sure it would be many more years before she indulged in more than two drinks in an evening. She blinked open one bleary eye, squinting at the alarm clock. Nine-fifty-two.

She spotted a large glass of water on the nightstand. Sitting next to it were two aspirin tablets. Bless Reed.

She wiggled herself into a sitting position and took the pills. If she could sleep until they kicked in, she’d have a fighting chance of surviving this hangover.

Bless Reed, she thought again. She could forgive him anything at the moment. Well, almost anything.

Though, in the cold light of day, she realized it was unlikely he was having an affair. It wasn’t so much her confidence in the strength of their relationship. It was more her knowledge of his core values and principles.

Reed wouldn’t cheat.

Even if he wanted to cheat, his honor and principles wouldn’t let him.

The rain pulsed harder on the window. She pressed her fingers into her ears and buried her face in the feather pillow, conjuring images of the night before.

Hanna had blended up some fine margaritas, and she’d handed out some sage and practical advice. Plus, it had felt just plain good for Elizabeth to get her anxiety off her chest.

But then Reed had called and annoyed her. Still, when he’d helped her to bed, she’d remembered all the reasons she’d fallen in love with him in the first place. So she’d propositioned him, because time was running out.

Now, she groaned. Time really was running out, and she had no memory past asking to make love last night. She was pretty sure she’d remember it if it had happened.

So, she wasn’t pregnant. And it was day three of ovulation. But she didn’t think she could even drag herself out of bed at the moment, never mind seduce her husband.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the downpour turned torrential. But slowly, ever so slowly, the sound of the raindrops stopped hurting her brain. They became soothing, and the pain went from sharp to dull.

She drifted in and out for an hour, then forced herself to throw off the covers, pulling gingerly into a sitting position. She was tired, but at least she was mobile.

She showered and dressed, and applied a little concealer to disguise the dark circles under her eyes.

She wasn’t quite ready for a workout at the gym, but she needed to get the blood flowing somehow. The rain was steady, so a walk was out of the question. She needed to find something to do inside.

The penthouse was empty. Rena was likely out running errands and would be home soon. She didn’t like it when Elizabeth cleaned. Baking was acceptable, but baking would fill the suite with aromas.

Not good.

Elizabeth glanced around for inspiration. She caught sight of the living room bookshelf. There was an idea. She could sort through her books, maybe donate some of the older ones to the library. And Reed had hundreds shelved in his office. She’d call Rena on her cell and get her to pick up some cardboard boxes on her way home.

Perfect.

After gathering a sizable pile in the living room, she moved to the office.

Reed liked the occasional mystery or thriller, the kind of book that you didn’t reread once you knew the ending. She tugged a couple of his volumes from the eye level shelves and carried them to the black meeting table.

There she paused, wrinkling her nose, trying to identify an unusual smell. It wasn’t dust, not leather, not furniture polish. Where had she …

Coconut.

She staggered back in shock.

That woman in Reed’s office had smelled of coconut.

“Elizabeth?” Reed called from the entry hall.

The coconut woman had been in the penthouse? Her penthouse? Her home?

“What’s with the books?”

She could hear his footsteps starting down the hall.

What did she do? Ignore it? Confront him? Look for more evidence?

Was this why he hadn’t made love with her last night? Or yesterday? Or last week?

“There you are.” He came around the corner and smiled. “Feeling okay?”

She stared at him in silence, trying to reconcile the man she knew with such reprehensible behavior. While she was desperately trying to save their marriage, had he already ended it?

“There’s somebody I want you to meet,” said Reed, coming fully into the room.

Not her. Good grief, not her.

“This is Joe Germain.”

A man came into view in the doorway, and Reed motioned him into the office.

“Joe, this is my wife, Elizabeth Wellington.”

The man stepped forward. He was at least six foot three, with broad shoulders, a burly chest, and very little in the way of a neck. His hair was cropped close, and he wore a dark, neat suit with a dress shirt and tie.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Wellington.” The man held out a strong, callused hand.

“Hello,” Elizabeth managed, giving a brief shake, catching a glimpse of a leather holster beneath his suit jacket. Then she met gray eyes, intelligent eyes, some might even say cunning.

“I’ve hired Joe as your driver,” Reed continued.

A driver?

Elizabeth might have been duped, but she wasn’t stupid. The man looked like he was half linebacker, half mercenary. He definitely wasn’t somebody she’d want to be alone with in a dark alley.

A visceral chill worked its way up her spine.

“Elizabeth?” Reed’s confused voice seemed to come from a long way off. “Are you okay?”

She looked back to her husband, her lying, cheating, untrustworthy husband. “I don’t need a driver.”

Five

“Elizabeth,” said Hanna, her voice chastising as she dunked a tea bag into the teapot at her counter. “You have seriously gone round the bend.”

“He insisted, absolutely insisted I keep the guy as my driver.” Elizabeth had tried every argument in the book to change Reed’s mind, but his stubbornness had been off the charts, even for him.

“Maybe he simply wants you to have a driver. You did get pretty drunk last night.”

“That guy is not a driver.”

“He drove you here, didn’t he?”

Only because Elizabeth had been too frightened to try to escape. “I think he’s a criminal.”

“Now, why on earth would Reed hire a criminal?”

Elizabeth hesitated, reluctant to give voice to the fear that had followed her over. But she had to share it with someone. “What if they’re right?”

“Who?” Hanna returned to the living area of her loft, where rain pattered on the skylights, and dull daylight gave the airy room a gray atmosphere.

“The SEC. What if Reed has a secret life? What if his wealth really is from shady deals with the underworld?” Her mouth went dry and her voice shook ever so slightly. “You know, he’s got an awful lot of money.”

Hanna enunciated slowly and carefully. “Round the bend, Elizabeth. Reed is a husband and a businessman.”

But there were too many inconsistencies lately. He was being far too secretive for this to all be nothing. “Not that much of a husband,” Elizabeth pointed out. “He’s fooling around with the coconut woman.”

“You don’t know that he’s fooling around with the coconut woman.”

“He lied about her. And I know she was in our suite.” Elizabeth warmed to the theory. “You know, my parents warned me about rich people. They said they were sly and untrustworthy. They were rich for a reason, and it wasn’t hard work and fair trade practices.”

“Elizabeth.”

“What?”

“You disagree with your parents on that, remember?”

“I was wrong. And look where it got me.”

Hanna fought a grin. “You mean with the imagination of a conspiracy theorist? Forget being a script girl. You might want to consider scriptwriting as your future career.”

“What future career? I’ll probably be killed in gangland crossfire before I can ever get a career off the ground. I might know too much already.”

“This is insane,” said Hanna, picking up her phone. “What’s his name?”

“Reed Anton Wellington III.”

Hanna shot her a look of dark disbelief. “I mean your driver.”

“Oh. Joe Germain. What are you doing?”

“I’m calling Bert Ralston. You give an investigative reporter an hour, and you’ll be amazed what he can find out.”

Elizabeth plunked back on the couch. That wasn’t a half bad idea. At least then Hanna would believe her. At least then Elizabeth would know if she was in any danger from Joe.

How could Reed do this to her? She’d been an innocent young college graduate from New Hampshire when he met her, wooed her, enticed her away from the safe bosom of her family. She never should have borrowed that red dress, or gone on the harbor cruise. Then she never would have met Reed.

Hanna hung up the phone. “You know, you were a lot more fun last night when you were drunk.”

“You’re not taking this seriously enough,” Elizabeth accused.

Hanna rose to pour the tea. “I’m taking this exactly seriously enough. You want vanilla cookies?”

Elizabeth’s stomach gave a little lurch of protest. “How come you’re not hung over?” she asked Hanna, rising to follow her into the kitchen area.

“Because you outdrank me. How are you feeling by the way?”

“You mean other than facing imminent death by either criminal gang wars or by annoying my driver?”

Hanna carefully poured two cups of steaming tea. “Yeah.”

“Bit of a headache. Reed left me some aspirins on the nightstand.”

“Yet more evidence of his evil cold-bloodedness.”

“He didn’t want me to suspect anything.”

“Well, that’s not working out so well for him so far, is it?”

“That’s because of my brilliant, deductive mind.”

“It’s because of your pickle-brained paranoia.”

“I heard the lies. I smelled the coconut.”

Hanna’s telephone rang and Elizabeth cringed.

Hanna picked it up. “Hello?” She looked at Elizabeth and mouthed Bert Ralston. She listened for a moment. Then her brows shot up. “Really?”

“What?” Elizabeth demanded in a stage whisper. Her heart rate deepened in her chest.

“Okay,” said Hanna. “Thanks. I owe you one.” And she hung up the phone.

“Well?” asked Elizabeth, easing into a chair, because the feeling had suddenly left her legs.

“Joe Germain isn’t a driver.”

A loud clanging grew inside Elizabeth’s head.

“He’s a bodyguard.”

“What?”

“He’s a bodyguard, Lizzy. He works for a national agency called Resolute Charter. Reed’s not trying to hurt you, he’s trying to protect you.”

An instant rush of relief shot through Elizabeth’s body.

For a split second, it masked all the other questions.

But then they percolated back. “Protect me from what?”

“I’m guessing reporters. With Hammond and Pysanski’s involvement, this SEC thing is heating up.”

Elizabeth had no idea who Hammond and Pysanski were. But Reed wasn’t a member of a criminal gang. And her life as she knew it hadn’t just ended.

“It doesn’t explain the coconut woman,” she pointed out.

Hanna slid down into a chair beside her. “If you give it a little time, I’ll bet the coconut woman explains herself.”

“Dad called here looking for an explanation.”

Elizabeth was delighted to hear her brother Brandon’s deep voice on the other end of the phone.

“Why didn’t he call me?” She crossed the living room to curl up in her favorite wingback chair next to the bay window. The clouds were still gray, but the rain had turned to drizzle.

“He thinks the FBI has your phone bugged.”

“It’s the SEC, and they don’t bug phones.”

Did they?

If they did, maybe she could get her hands on the tapes and get some information on coconut woman.

“You holding up okay?” asked Brandon.

Elizabeth traced a zigzag pattern on the smooth leather arm. “I’m fine.”

Truth was, the SEC was far from her biggest problem at the moment.

“So, you’re not worried?” asked Brandon.

“He’s got a good lawyer, and they say it’s going well.” As she finished the sentence, she realized that Reed hadn’t in fact said a single thing to her about the case since their initial discussion. In truth, she had no idea how it was going.

“How are things in California?” she asked brightly.

“I hired another vet last week,” said Brandon. “And we’re advertising for two technicians.”

“Business is booming?”

“The practice is definitely growing. We’re not in your tax bracket yet, but Heather has her eye on a little house up the coast.”

“You’re selling the condo?”

“With a growing family—”

“Heather’s pregnant again?” Elizabeth hated the pain that filled her chest at the thought of Heather having another baby. She would be thrilled to be an auntie a second time. Babies were nothing but good news. Even if they weren’t hers.

“No, Heather’s not pregnant. Lucas isn’t even a year old.”

“Right.” Elizabeth was ashamed of her reaction.

“Lizzy?”

“Uh-huh?” She promised herself she’d do better when her sister-in-law really was pregnant.

“I’m sorry you’re not conceiving.”

Everything inside Elizabeth went still, and a lump instantly formed in her throat. “How did you …?”

Brandon’s voice went low and protective, and suddenly they were teenagers again, sharing secrets, laughing and conspiring. “I saw it in your eyes when Heather was pregnant. Then again when you held Lucas. And I hear it in your voice every time we talk about children.”

“We’re trying,” she managed.

“I know. And I assume you have the best medical care money can buy?”

She nodded, then uttered a weak, “Yes.”

“It’ll happen, Lizzy.”

“How long—” Elizabeth stopped herself. It was none of her business.

“Did Heather take to conceive?”

“Yes.”

“A couple of months.”

Elizabeth reflexively wrapped an arm across her stomach, leaning slightly forward in the chair. She and Reed had been trying for three years.

“I predict,” Brandon said into the silence, “that not too long from now, you’ll be sitting in my house with a plump, smiling baby wrapped in your arms, and you’ll be saying to me ‘Thank goodness it took so long. Otherwise we wouldn’t have Johnny or Sally or Mary or Tim—the most perfect baby in the world.’”

Elizabeth’s throat was so tight, she couldn’t speak.

“Lizzy?”

“Three years,” she moaned, saying it out loud for the first time, feeling the weight of all those failed cycles pressing down on her shoulders.

“It’ll happen.”

“And what if it doesn’t?”

“It’s way too early for contingency plans. Trust me. I’m a doctor.”

“You’re a veterinarian.”

“And I spend an enormous amount of my time consulting on breeding issues—dogs, cats, horses, goats.”

“I’m not a goat.”

“Principle’s the same.”

There was a muffled rustle on the other end of the phone.

“Elizabeth?” came Heather’s breathless voice.

Mortification flushed Elizabeth’s body. “You heard?”

“Yes. And I’m about to kill your brother.”

Brandon’s protest was faint in the background. “I wasn’t saying she was a goat.”

“Shut up,” Heather instructed Brandon. To Elizabeth, she said, “There are plenty of choices.”

“I really didn’t want this to become—”

“Since you’re still trying, I assume Reed’s not sterile?”