Park Avenue Scandals: High-Society Secret Pregnancy

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.

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.”