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“Max, I can take care of this myself.”
“No reason you should have to,” he said. “Besides, you’ll want to be at your apartment when the movers show up.”
“That’s another thing!” she snapped, lifting her chin and narrowing her eyes. “I didn’t ask you to arrange for movers.”
“You didn’t have to. I saw what needed doing, so I did it. End of story.”
“To you, maybe.”
Max moved in closer as the crowds thickened behind him. Julia shot a nervous glance around her as if trying to find an escape route. As if he would allow that to happen. He bent his head to hers, and her eyes looked huge in her face. Her breath quickened and the pulse point at the base of her throat began to throb in time with her heartbeat.
Max smiled, enjoying the effect he had on her even while having to deal with how his own body responded to her nearness. Walking wasn’t going to be comfortable for a while, but damned if he could force himself to back up any. The scent of her reached him and clawed at his self-control.
Lifting both hands to his chest, Julia gave him a shove that didn’t move him an inch, then, disgusted, huffed out a breath. “Honestly, Max, you can’t just take over my life.”
One corner of his mouth lifted as he skimmed his fingertips along the side of her jaw. “You think that’s what I’m trying to do?”
She batted his hand away. “Aren’t you?”
“No,” he said, and meant it. Hell, he liked her just the way she was. Opinionated, stubborn, with a barely contained wild streak—which was the very reason she’d allowed herself to fall into bed with him the night they’d met.
He’d known from the moment he saw her that he wanted her. And the sparks between them had flown fast and furious that night. Still, he’d been surprised that Julia Prentice, society princess, had stepped out of her entrenched-in-rules life long enough to lose herself to passion.
That night had been a revelation to him. He’d seen beyond the facade she showed society to the woman she was beneath her well-tailored clothes and appropriate behaviors. And that was the woman who continued to haunt him. She was an intriguing blend of buttoned-down conventionality and uninhibited siren—and just standing this close to her made him hard and eager to have her again.
He wouldn’t risk losing her now. Even if the marriage they were about to enter was a temporary one, he intended to get everything he could out of their time together. He wanted her. He wanted her child. He wanted it all.
And Max Rolland always got what he wanted.
“If you’re not trying to steamroll me, then back off a little, Max.”
He slapped one hand to the marble wall at her side. The cool stone was just beginning to warm up due to the wash of morning sunlight. From down the street came the mingled scents of car exhaust, coffee and hot dogs cooking on a cart. It was morning in New York City and the sights, scents and sounds surrounding him were like old friends.
Max smiled, stared into her eyes and said, “I’ll back off as soon as we’re married.”
She frowned at him. “How do I know that?”
He shrugged. “Because I’m telling you I will.”
“Oh,” she said with a roll of her eyes, “well, that changes everything.”
He smiled, enjoying the sarcasm, even enjoying the sparks still shooting from her eyes as she looked at him. Whatever else their businesslike marriage would be, it wouldn’t be boring.
“Let’s get this settled, all right? Get married. Get rid of the blackmailer and—” He stopped as her eyes widened and she inhaled sharply. “What is it?”
“The blackmailer,” she said, opening up the long, narrow black leather bag she carried tucked beneath her arm. “I meant to tell you as soon as you arrived this morning, but you were so full of directives and commands, I forgot all about it.”
He ignored that and demanded, “About what?”
She pulled an envelope from her purse and handed it to him. “This was in my mailbox yesterday.”
Max pushed away from the wall, glared at the envelope and cursed viciously once he’d read the brief note. “So at the very least, this proves that whoever’s behind this is privy to what goes on at 721.”
“Apparently,” she said, and this time when she looked at him, her eyes weren’t shooting angry daggers at him, but were, instead, soft, confused and just a little worried. “How else would this person have known that I was getting married? And that they wouldn’t be able to blackmail me now that I won’t be pregnant and single?”
Scowling, Max took care to refold the letter and slide it back into its envelope. Then he tucked the missive into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and said, “You’re right. Somehow this person is getting information about you. We haven’t announced the wedding, so the only way they could have known is if they were somehow connected to 721. Either this person lives here, or knows someone who does.”
“It could be anyone,” she murmured.
“It could,” he agreed, and sent a seeking glance out over the passing pedestrians as if he half expected to see a familiar face watching them. When he saw nothing, he drew Julia away from the building, dropped one arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side. Then steering her into the moving, jostling throng, he bent his head to say, “Once we’re married, the threat to you is over. I’ll get this latest letter to Detective McGray, and you …”
“Yes?” She tipped her face up to look at him.
He gave her a half smile and said, “You can get the papers to your lawyer with orders to look them over quickly, then you can direct the movers. The quicker we get you settled at my place, the sooner you can put this behind you.”
She frowned again, but nodded in agreement. “Fine. I really hate to admit that you’re right. But you are. At least about this.”
Max raised one dark eyebrow as he looked down at her. “I think I just won the war.”
“Not the war,” she said, giving him a grudging smile that tugged at something inside him, “just this battle.”
“For right now,” he said, relishing the sweet tang of victory, “I’ll settle for that.”
“I can’t believe all of your stuff is gone,” Amanda said, turning in a slow circle in the middle of the living room. “It looks so … empty in here.”
“I know.” Julia sighed and dropped into one of the two remaining chairs. The movers Max had hired had, of course, been extremely diligent. They’d swept into the apartment, packed up everything she’d pointed at, then left to deliver it all to Max’s penthouse. Julia had supervised, but her presence hadn’t really been necessary. Within a few short hours, it was all handled and she was officially no longer a resident of 721 Park Avenue.
Which left her feeling a little odd. She’d loved her apartment. She had a lot of good memories wrapped up in this place. Now she was moving on, marrying the father of her child, preparing to be a mother and walking away from everything familiar and into a brand-new world.
Plus, she was leaving Amanda here in the very building where a blackmailer was running rampant. She was a little worried about her friend, though when she said so, Amanda pooh-poohed her.
“Oh, please,” she said, pulling on a pair of short black boots. “What do I have going on in my poor, pitiful, loveless life that could interest a self-respecting blackmailer?”
“Fine, maybe you’re right,” Julia said, scooting forward until she was perched on the edge of the chair, arms braced on her knees,