Secrets Of The A-List Box Set, Volume 2

Emotion clawed at her throat. Suddenly she didn’t feel strong. Or resilient. She felt like crying her eyes out. She felt like she was at the breaking point. She also felt like falling into Joe’s arms. She felt like forgetting all her troubles...even for a moment. And it shocked her.

“It’s been a hard few weeks. With the accident and then my sons fighting outside the hospital and of course the engagement party. Thom’s aborted speech got tongues wagging. The gossip bloggers have been all over it.”

He nodded. “I know, but it seems to have settled down now. How’s Elana?”

“Still in Paris with Rafe.” She shrugged, looking to where their hands were pressed together. “Sometimes I’m not convinced that the wedding will actually happen.”

“It will,” he assured her. “Thom and Elana are good for each other. He balances her out. I think it will work for them both.”

“I hope so,” Mariella said. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep up this facade of having everything under control. To tell you the truth, I feel like such a fraud.”

“You know,” Joe said tenderly, rubbing his thumb along her forefinger, “you never need to hide your feelings from me, Mariella. Not ever.”

Emotion filled her blood. His words did something to her, deep inside. They soothed her. Confused her. Alarmed her. She couldn’t pinpoint her feelings. Or understand them. This was Joe. Her friend. Maybe her best friend. The one constant in her life for so many years. When other friends came and went, Joe was always there. Harrison’s business partner, for sure. But more than that. A confidant.

“I know I don’t.”

“I miss him, too.”

The heat in her throat intensified. She wasn’t prepared for this today. She had deliberately immersed herself in work to avoid thinking about how she truly felt about what was really happening in her world. No one and nothing had broken through her walls. Not her children, not the nosy journalists harassing her at every opportunity or the people she’d always considered her friends and who were now strangely absent from her life. Oh, they called, but Mariella suspected their motives weren’t entirely pure. A snippet of gossip was worth a lot in the tabloids. And friends, she discovered, could quickly disappear when there was a dollar to be made.

Except for Joe Reynolds.

He was a rock. Loyal and principled. And incorruptible when it came to being swayed by money or power.

“I know you miss him,” she said quietly.

He nodded. “I’m here for you. I’ve always been here for you. I always will be.”

“I know that, too.” She sighed heavily, taking comfort from the way his fingers continued to move over hers. “I keep thinking that this is a terrible nightmare that I need to wake up from.”

He caressed her wrist gently. “It is a nightmare. But not one that you have to endure alone.”

“I don’t feel alone right now,” she admitted.

“Good,” he said. “I’m glad.”

“I just need to stay busy,” she told him and pointed to the computer. “The business still needs to run.”

“You know I’ll hold up my end of things, Mariella,” he assured her. “Always. For Harrison...and for you.”

She nodded. “I know you will. And I appreciate the support. It would be all too easy to give up.”

“I know what you mean,” he admitted. “Tell me, are you sleeping?”

She shook her head. “Not much. Too many dreams.”

“Same.” He ran his free hand through his thick hair. “Sometimes I wish I could sleep through this whole thing.”

“Me too.” She managed a small, ironic smile. “But since my husband isn’t awake, I don’t allow myself to think that for too long.”

Joe nodded, still stroking her skin. “So the doctors haven’t offered any more news?”

She shook her head. “I’ve been dealing with specialists for days. Each one tells me something different from the last. Try this. Do that. Take him there. Leave him where he is.” She sucked in a shaky breath. “Honestly, I don’t know what to do.”

“I wish I could bring him back for you,” he said raggedly.

Mariella blinked the heat from her eyes. “Me too.”

“But I know I can’t,” he said and circled her wrist with his long fingers, stroking, making goose bumps across her skin. “I feel so freaking helpless. And I’m sorry the doctors haven’t been able to offer any solutions...or...”

“Hope?” she finished for him and nodded a little. “Hope is all I have.”

“Not all,” he said gently. “You have me.”

Mariella’s throat tightened. “Thank you.”

“If only I could do something to help.”

“You’re helping now,” she said and smiled. “More than you know. And you shouldn’t blame yourself, Joe.”

“I can’t help it,” he said. “I should have sensed that something wasn’t right. If Harrison has enemies, if someone forced him off the road and caused the accident, then as his friend and partner, I should have seen this coming. I should have known he was in trouble.”

“You don’t have a crystal ball. None of us do.” She sighed. “And honestly, if anyone is at fault, it’s me.”

“You?”

She shrugged. “I’m Harrison’s wife. The mother of his children. Closer to him than anyone else. And I didn’t sense anything different about him. If he was in trouble, he wasn’t talking about it.”

He didn’t look convinced. “I should have known. Maybe if I hadn’t been so wrapped up in other things I would have been prepared. I could have fixed this and—”

Mariella pulled her hand away instantly. I could have fixed this. Her suspicions surged, and she got to her feet, pulling her wrap around her waist. Alarm bells pealed. Could it be true? Was it as obvious as this? Was Joe the Fixer?

She glared at him, and he looked bewildered. “What?” he asked and stood up slowly.

“Exactly. What?”

Joe took a step around the table, and she immediately backed up. “Mariella?”

“Are you the Fixer?”

He shook his head and then laughed a little. “Of course not.”

“But you said...”

“I meant I should have seen this coming, that’s all,” he assured her. “I’m not the Fixer.”

“Then who is?” she demanded. “And why can’t you find out? We have the paper trail, the bank accounts, the proof of money changing hands. The evidence is there. All we need is a name, and once we get that name, I’m certain it will lead us to whoever is responsible for my husband’s accident.”

“You’re convinced there is a link?” he asked quietly.

She nodded. “Absolutely. And I need to know. A part of me is so angry with Harrison for being a part of all this and putting us at risk. I feel as though the Fixer is somehow involved in the accident. I’m not sure how, but I feel it.”

“Maybe Harrison’s involvement is more about wanting to protect the family rather than hurt it?”

“Always his greatest advocate,” she said, her tone brittle. “Even when he’s not here. The truth is, I have no idea what my husband’s role is in all this, but I will find out the truth.”

“And I’ll help you if I can.”

Mariella wasn’t quite sure she believed him. There was a sudden uneasiness in Joe’s demeanor. She noticed that he didn’t look right—he looked out of sorts, as though he had some great burden pressing down on his shoulders. He’d assured her that he wasn’t the Fixer. If not that, then what was shaking him up so much?

“What’s wrong, Joe?” she demanded. “Why do you look so...so...odd?”

He swallowed hard, and Mariella watched, mesmerized as his strong throat moved. His eyes were burning into hers, his expression suddenly unreadable. Something was going on. Something big.

“Joe,” she said again. “What is it? What are you thinking?” It occurred to her that he might know more than he was letting on. “Do you know who tried to kill my husband?”

He shook his head and stepped closer. “No.”

“Then what is it?”

His attention was unwavering. Had a man ever looked at her with such scorching intensity before? He was close, barely a foot away from her. The air between them was burning up.

“Don’t you know, Mariella?”

She didn’t know what to think, what to feel. What to say.

Mariella took another tiny stride backward and found herself backed up against a pillar. Her wrap flapped open, and she watched as Joe’s gaze flittered over her, suddenly lingering on her breasts as her chest rose up and down. She noticed his cheeks were slashed with color and his hands were balled into fists. And he was breathing hard. Harder than she’d ever noticed before. And he looked as though simply staring at her caused him a kind of gut-wrenching agony. He’d seen her in a swimsuit countless times. But this was different. This felt different. Her skin prickled instinctively, and she shuddered, not from fear, but something else.

Awareness.

Attraction.

Desire.

Realization coursed through her blood, heated her skin and forced her to admit something that had been simmering beneath the surface for a long time.

She was attracted to Joe.

And it was mutual.

Without thinking, she reached up and laid her hand on his arm. He was burning, on fire. Even through the fabric of his shirt, she could feel the heat generated from his skin. Mariella met his gaze instantly. And saw longing.

He groaned, as though the sound was pulled from somewhere deep within his chest, and Mariella was lost. And then, suddenly, she was against him, breast to chest, hip to hip. His arms came around her, and within seconds he found her mouth. He kissed her, hard, as though he was trying to exorcise her from his thoughts...his very soul. And Mariella kissed him back. She’d forgotten this kind of kissing. It had been so long since any man had captured her lips in such an urgent, possessive way. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, and she accepted it greedily. Mariella clutched his shoulders in a frantic effort to get closer to him. He touched her breast, rubbing his thumb across her nipple, and the sensitive bud tightened instantly, sending a quick and hot message to her brain and then swiftly to the place between her thighs. His tongue felt so good against her own, moving around her mouth with a kind of erotic expertise that quickly drugged her senseless. All coherent thoughts were forgotten. Nothing mattered. Just Joe. Just his tongue in her mouth and his hand on her breast, his thumb doing insane things to her nipple. Every part of her was on fire, lit from within, suddenly more alive than she could ever remember being. She’d forgotten this feeling. She’d pushed it deep into a part of herself where passion and desire didn’t exist. She was a mother and a wife. But in that moment, she felt like a lover. He was rock hard against her, pressing his arousal into her belly, making her mindless with need.

“I want you,” he muttered against her lips as the kissing went on and on. “I want you so much,” he said, dragging air into his lungs as he kissed her jaw and her neck and the insanely sensitive spot below her ear. He sucked on her lobe, whispering, grinding closer, and Mariella wrapped her arms around his waist. She threw her head back, and he moved lower, pushing aside her bikini top, and then his mouth closed over one straining, aching nipple. Sensation arrowed directly between her thighs as he suckled the tender flesh. She’d forgotten that heat, that need, that feeling that told her there was more to be had. Much more. All she could want. He moved back up, kissing, nipping, licking her skin.

“I’m crazy for you,” he admitted. “I want you so much.”

Mariella groaned as his tongue thrust between her teeth, pressing closer, feeling him grow harder, wanting him with an intensity that was suddenly terrifying. “I want you, too.”

And then, as though her capitulation had somehow switched on a light inside him, Joe heaved his mouth from hers and staggered back, dragging deep breaths into his lungs.

Mariella sagged against the pillar, staring at him, wild-eyed and confused. Her lips throbbed, her breasts were hard, her nipples peaked and aching for his touch, and there was a heat between her thighs that she hadn’t felt since forever. But he took another step back. And then another. And another. And then he turned, moving toward the edge of the pool, his broad shoulders moving up and down jerkily. She quickly pulled the bikini top back into place and grabbed the edges of her wrap, covering herself. Her entire body was on fire, and her knees felt so weak she could barely stand. All she wanted was to go to him, to help alleviate the ethical crisis he was clearly experiencing.

But she didn’t. She stayed where she was and waited for Joe to speak. But a moment later, Vanessa returned to the patio carrying a pitcher of sangria. Were her housekeeper’s hands shaking? Mariella couldn’t be sure. Had she seen them? Mariella hoped not. Vanessa had always proven to be discreet, but the last thing she wanted was anyone witnessing what she and Joe had just been doing in broad daylight. Once the other woman hurriedly disappeared, Mariella found the strength in her legs to walk toward the pool. Joe turned before she reached him. He was pale, stricken.

“God forgive me,” he said raggedly.

Mariella reached out and put a finger to his lips. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t be sorry.”

He grabbed her hand and held it against his chest, and she felt him trembling. “I’m gonna go straight to hell for this.”

“Maybe,” she said and moved closer. “But I’ll go with you.”

And then she was in his arms again and his lips were on hers and his tongue was thrusting into her mouth and his hips were grinding into hers. And, suddenly, nothing else mattered.

* * *

Nora tapped her long, perfectly manicured red nails across the screen and stared at the photograph. Tabloid photos were often grainy and indistinguishable. But she knew what she was looking at. And whom.

Harrison’s children.

The two youngest. Dining out at one of her favorite Paris restaurants. Laughing. Looking as though they didn’t have a care in the world.

She studied them for a few moments and noticed their similarities. Both had brown eyes. Harrison had blue. They both had the same jawline, the same arched brows. Harrison certainly produced handsome children.

The notion made her instinctively touch her belly.

If her baby looked like either of them, then she’d be happy.

She couldn’t help wondering if Harrison would be joining his children soon. She knew how much he adored Paris. And from all accounts, he would be out of the private clinic and back on his feet very soon. The interview she’d watched made it clear he was doing well. She’d called the hospital, but they refused to tell her anything. She wasn’t family, she wasn’t going to be told anything. But she suspected he’d be transferred to a private clinic. Somewhere expensive and discreet. Because, of course, the Marshalls could afford the very best. And that fiery Latina he was married to would demand everything her own way, so Harrison’s swift recovery was a given. But she missed him desperately. And was mad at him, too. She wasn’t the sort of woman used to being discarded. But he had...he’d dumped her well and truly.

“I am with child,” she whispered.

Harrison slowly lowered the paper from in front of his face. “What?” His face hardened. “This can’t happen.” He pointed a finger at her that could have easily been a knife. “It won’t happen.” He didn’t say another word. He picked up his jacket from the back of the chair and brushed by her.

“Harrison...”

He kept walking to the door.

He never looked back.

The memory of his parting words still stung.

She rubbed her stomach.

She was having a baby. Harrison’s baby.

Nora looked at the photograph again and smiled to herself. She knew how much Harrison loved his children. He’d told her countless times that they were the most important thing in the world to him.

And you will be, too, mon bébé.

I promise.

She reread the article. So, the Marshall kids were heading back home in two days. She quickly considered her options and came up with only one.

It was time she reminded Harrison Marshall that he was definitely going to be a papa again.

Chapter Four

Casa Cat wasn’t the same without his father there. Even when Luc was away at college and then medical school, he’d loved coming home. Of course, there were good times as well as many arguments. But although his dad had supported his desire to go to medical school and encouraged him to find his own passion, he knew the older man was disappointed. With Rafe being more creative than he was business focused, it had fallen onto Gabe’s shoulders to become the heir apparent. Part of Luc resented his cousin, while another part was eternally grateful. Not that he’d ever tell him that. Gabriel Santiago was an arrogant, moody pain in the ass. His best friend who had become his greatest rival. Now they barely tolerated each other. He put up with seeing Gabe when he visited his parents, and that was all the involvement he needed or wanted.

He got out of his Mercedes-AMG, beeped the lock device and headed for the front door. He was about to open up when the door opened and there she was.

Vanessa...

The one woman he wanted. The one woman who kept him at arm’s length.

They’d met the first day she’d started working at Casa Cat. Luc had just arrived back in California after a stint working with Doctors Without Borders and it had been a particularly challenging couple of months. Even though he did find the work fulfilling, it always took him a few days to recharge after such a trip, so he’d decided to spend a few days at the estate instead of returning immediately to his plush apartment in L.A.

Dropping his bags in the hall, he’d bounded up the stairs to shower off the travel grime and change and had collided with Vanessa on the landing. She’d been carrying a basket of laundry that had tumbled from her grasp and Luc made a clumsy attempt to help her, which had only made things worse. The clothes ended up at her feet and as she bent down to retrieve the garments he had the same idea and their heads had collided. For a second he saw stars and she swore...loudly. The kind of curse that he didn’t expect to hear from the new housekeeper. Not that she looked like any kind of housekeeper he’d seen before. She was so damned beautiful she took his breath away. Brown hair, caramel-colored eyes, incredible curves.

And a potty mouth to beat even his own.

He couldn’t help but laugh. And then she was laughing. It had been such a relief to just feel so easy with someone... And as he quickly started to help her pick up and refold the laundry, blaming himself for the mess, she put him off, trying to take the blame. And moments later he laughed again when she mistook him for another of the hired help. But he supposed that in his creased cargo pants, rumpled shirt, sleep deprived eyes and airplane hair, he probably didn’t look like he belonged in any of the upstairs rooms. He didn’t correct her mistake though, because he wanted to hear her lovely laugh again and suspected she would clam up the moment she realized who he was.

But then several minutes later he slipped, suggesting that he grab some fresh towels from the refolded pile and put them in his room.

“Your room?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Just who do you think you are? One of the Marshalls?”

“Actually, yes. I’m Luc, the older son,” he said with a grin. “It’s nice to—”

Before Luc could finish his sentence, she’d gotten to her feet, brushed off the skirt of her uniform and practically jumped back six paces. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Marshall. I didn’t mean to take up your time. I’ll finish cleaning up these things and get out of your way.”

No matter what he tried to say to recapture the relaxed conversation they’d just shared, she was horrified and apologetic and moments later, she raced off, laundry basket in hand. But like a damned bolt of lightning, Luc had been struck. He was a goner.

He’d been surrounded by beautiful women all of his life, but none had ever been able to compare to Vanessa, the most intoxicating woman he’d ever met.

And it confused him. Luc thought he knew women. And believed he saw something in Vanessa’s eyes that indicated she was as aware of him as he was of her. Even in that damned ugly housekeeper’s uniform his mother insisted the staff wear, Vanessa looked beautiful, almost...regal.

He couldn’t help the way he felt about her. Sure, he wanted her, but it was more than that. He’d never shared laughter so easily with any woman before, and he longed to be with her again, to be able to talk and laugh with someone who seemed to really get him.

Yes, Rachel was also beautiful and well connected and would make him a good wife, but...something was missing. He didn’t love Rachel. He desired her. He enjoyed sex with her. He found her amusing and liked her company. But his heart wasn’t invested in their relationship.

Because his heart was wrapped up in the woman in front of him.

And now, she’d called. After saying she wouldn’t.

“Hi, Vanessa,” he said and smiled. “I left as soon as I got your message.”

She nodded and opened the door wider. “Thanks for coming.”

“Everything okay?”

“Of course.”

Luc’s body trembled with the need to get closer to her. She smelled so good. Like lavender. Not like the expensive perfume Rachel used. Vanessa was a natural beauty. Perfect in every way. “Anyone else around?”

She looked around nervously as he stepped into the hall. “Please keep your voice down.”

“Why...what’s going on?”

“Nothing... I just—”

Luc took a step forward and grasped her hand, drawing her close. “Vanessa...what’s wrong?”

She pulled her hand from his and stepped back. “Nothing, like I said. And please don’t do that.”

“I can’t help it,” Luc admitted and grinned, stupidly happy that she’d called him. “I’m so glad to see you.”

She looked over her shoulder and then frowned. “Luc, I called because I needed to talk to you. I said it was important.” She took a long breath. “I didn’t say it was about us.”

Us...

God, he wished there was an us. But she fought him at every turn. Deep down, he knew her excuses were all too valid. She worked for his parents. It wouldn’t be right. She might lose her job. Luc had heard all her reasons. Only a fool would keep pining for her. But something kept dragging him back to her. Something he couldn’t quite define. He only knew he had to wait. Vanessa was worth waiting for.

“Then why am I here?”

“We need to talk.”

“So you said,” he shot back. “Just not about us. I don’t get it, Vanessa...what is this about?”

She looked around again and then motioned for him to follow her down the hall. She entered the front living room, ushered him inside and then quietly closed the door.

“We shouldn’t be disturbed in here.”

“Why all the secrecy?” he asked.

“I need to tell you something,” she replied.

Dread licked up his spine. “Are you leaving? Is that what this is about? Because if you are, I think that’s a damned great idea.” He snapped his fingers. “Leave and come and live with me.”

Her dark brows shot up instantly. “Won’t your fiancée have something to say about that?”

“I’m not engaged,” he stressed, moving a little closer. “And I would ditch Rachel in a heartbeat if you would agree to be with me.”

She shook her beautiful head. “You’re such an asshole, Luc.”

He laughed softly. “Maybe...but I’m an asshole who is crazy about you.”

She stepped back. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough,” he quipped. “I know you’re beautiful and too smart to be wearing that damned ugly uniform and doing my family’s bidding. I hate seeing you clean and be treated like a freaking servant.”

Her mouth twisted. “I like my job, and if you weren’t such an arrogant, ungrateful and spoiled snob, you’d know you shouldn’t insult people about their work. I’m proud of what I do. It’s honest work, and I won’t have you make me feel inferior because I—”