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  The wanting in her tightened like a strong coil, pushing her higher and higher. She stroked desperately at his flexed arms and shoulders. His harsh breaths mingled with hers.

  “Brock,” she said, a mixture of a plea and demand.

  One second later, he slid inside. His gaze, dark with arousal, held hers as he thrust. Unable to hold back, she arched toward him and felt herself come apart in fits and starts. He kept thrusting, driving her higher than she’d thought possible until one last time, he stiffened inside her and his climax vibrated all the way to her core.

  She held on tight, stunned by the ferocity of their lovemaking. His heart pounded against hers and his breath blew over her bare shoulder. She felt his strength and power in every cell of her being and never wanted to let go of the sensation.

  After a few more breaths, he let out a long sigh and eased to his side, still holding her in his arms. “From now on,” he said, “you’ll sleep in here with me.”

  The next morning, Elle was awakened by a sound. She opened her eyes to the sight of Brock dressed and picking up his BlackBerry from its charger. A tiny ray of sunlight peeked through the shade on the window.

  Shaking off her sleepiness, she sat up. “Where are you going?”

  He glanced at her. “Where I go almost every Saturday,” he said. “To the office. I need to review some new suggestions that came in yesterday for one of our major accounts. No need for you to get up. I’ll be back late this afternoon. Enjoy your day,” he said and walked out of the room.

  Elle stared after him, stunned at his perfunctory attitude. Frowning, she halfway wondered if he was the same man who’d made love to her with such passion last night. Last night he’d acted as if he couldn’t get enough of her. Today he acted as if he couldn’t get away from her fast enough.

  She’d felt the enormous connection between them click back into place last night. She’d been sure their lovemaking represented a turning point. Now she wasn’t sure at all. Brock was so distant. Even when they’d been having their affair in the office, he’d acted warmer than this. She instinctively wrapped her arms around herself as if she felt a sudden chill.

  He still didn’t trust her, she realized, feeling a knot form in her stomach. She shouldn’t be surprised. Even though he had sold her on the idea that they could overcome what she had done for the sake of the baby, he clearly wasn’t there yet. She couldn’t help wondering if he ever would be. Sinking back down onto the bed, she dozed for a while, trying to escape her lost, afraid feelings. After some bizarre dreams, Elle threw off the covers and jumped out of bed. She refused to be a wuss. There were much worse things she could be facing. Now wasn’t the time to cower under the covers. Now was time to try to make her marriage work, and she’d start with the house. Today she would work on redoing the den.

  The first thing she ditched was the heavy drapes. The housekeeper gasped when she saw Elle on a chair, pulling them down.

  “Mrs. Maddox, what on earth are you doing?” Anna asked.

  “Brock told me to pick a room and redecorate it. I’ve chosen this one,” she said.

  The housekeeper’s eyes widened. “Oh, my. Has he, uh, discussed this with the senior Mrs. Maddox?”

  “I don’t think so,” Elle said. “But he said he didn’t think his mother would mind if I redid one room. It won’t be as if I’m taking over the entire house.”

  “True,” the housekeeper said, nodding. The rest of her expression didn’t agree with her nod.

  Elle sighed. “Do you think I shouldn’t? I don’t want to offend her.”

  “Technically, the house belongs to Mr. Maddox. Mrs. Maddox has lived here since her husband passed away, but by all rights, Mr. Maddox is the master of the house and since you’re his wife, your wishes should be respected.”

  “A roundabout way of saying there could be trouble,” Elle said, then lifted her hand. “Don’t worry. I don’t expect you to comment. No need for divided loyalty.” She turned her attention back to the room. “I’ll try to tie in some of the colors from the other rooms, but I want to make this room comfortable for Brock. I want him to feel like he can relax here.”

  “I think that’s an excellent idea,” Anna said.

  “The drapes have got to go, though,” Elle said. “And most of the furniture and knickknacks.”

  “As you wish,” the housekeeper said. “But please let Roger do it. Mr. Maddox would have my head if he saw you on that chair.”

  Elle spent the next several hours packing up knick-knacks while Roger hauled away anything that weighed more than a tissue.

  “I don’t want to impose, but if you would like some suggestions, Mrs. Maddox used some decorators,” the housekeeper said.

  “Thank you. I could use some suggestions, but I know someone who has a great eye and I owe her a visit,” she said, thinking of Bree Kincannon Spencer. Bree’s friendship was another casualty in the dirty little corporate war her grandfather had instigated. Although Elle knew Bree might not forgive her, she needed to apologize to the woman who had trusted and befriended her. The prospect made her nervous, but it was necessary. “This is a lot of furniture. Are you sure you can find a place to store it?”

  Roger nodded. “No problem. We’ll find a place.”

  “Thank you,” Elle said and smiled. “Both of you.” Then she went upstairs to her room and dialed Bree’s cell, expecting to leave a message that might very well be ignored.

  “Hello?” Bree said breathlessly after several rings.

  Surprised at the sound of the woman’s voice, Elle temporarily lost her words.

  “Hello?” Bree repeated. “Elle?”

  “Yes, it’s me,” Elle said, pacing from one end of the bedroom to the other. “Listen, I know you probably hate me. If I were you, I would hate me, too, but would you be willing to give me a few minutes of your time to explain? Nothing will excuse what I did, but your friendship really meant a lot to me. I would just like you to know what really happened.”

  Silence stretched from the other side of the line, making Elle’s stomach knot. “I understand if you don’t want to, and I know you’re probably busy with Gavin today, since it’s a Saturday—”

  “I sent Gavin to play golf,” Bree said. “He needed to take a break from his new business and I know he’s missed playing but he didn’t want me to feel neglected. I had to insist.”

  “You’re so lucky,” Elle said in a low voice, thinking of how Brock had left before she’d even made it out of bed that morning.

  “I could probably meet you in an hour. Gavin won’t be back until five. There’s a little café down the street from us. Would you like to meet there?”

  “Yes, thank you, Bree. This means a lot to me,” Elle said.

  An hour later, Elle walked into the café, spotting Bree at a table. The young woman stood and Elle immediately saw a new confidence in her. Elle remembered when Bree had enlisted her help with a makeover to get Gavin’s attention. Bree had spent so many years without self-confidence that she hadn’t realized what a true beauty she was. But now she was a radiant, happily married woman—and a woman who had been betrayed by Elle. Elle felt another twist of nerves ripple through her.

  “Bree, thank you for coming.” Elle’s voice trembled, but she was determined. “I’m so, so terribly sorry for what I’ve done,” she said, and then the whole story about her grandfather and her mother’s illness just spilled out.

  Fifteen minutes later, Bree reached for Elle’s hand. “Oh, my God. How terrible. Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked. “I would have helped. You know I have the money.”

  “I couldn’t,” Elle said. “And I felt so trapped and afraid. Every day looking in the mirror, I just hated myself more and more. And then when Brock and I got involved—” Elle felt her voice break again.

  Bree looked at her in sympathy. “Gavin told me Brock looked devastated when he got the news from the P.I.”

  Even though deep down, Elle had suspected that Brock would have been hurt by the news, pa
rt of her had wondered if it might have stabbed his ego more than his heart. Now, she couldn’t be sure.

  “Well, the good news is that you and Brock are married, so everything is fixed,” Bree said cheerfully.

  Elle didn’t say anything, but Bree must have read her expression.

  “What’s wrong? Brock must have forgiven you, right?”

  “It’s not that easy,” Elle said. “We’re working on things.” She bit her lip. “I’m pregnant,” she whispered.

  Bree’s eyes rounded. “Oh, my goodness. Are you excited? Is he? I mean, I know it’s been a muddy swim getting here, but a baby.”

  Elle realized more than ever how much she had missed Bree during the last few weeks. “I’m getting there,” she said. “I’m just getting over morning sickness.”

  “As someone whose marriage didn’t start out perfectly, the only thing I can say is hold on. Things can change for the better. They certainly did for me. For a while there, I never believed Gavin would love me, but I wouldn’t doubt it for a second now.”

  “I’m so glad. You really do deserve happiness,” Elle said.

  Bree shot her a sympathetic smile. “You do, too, Elle.”

  “Do you think you can ever forgive me?” Elle asked.

  “It’s already done. But you’re going to need to forgive yourself, too.”

  Elle felt a slight easing in her chest. She’d carried around the tight feeling so long it had become a part of her. To have Bree forgive her so freely gave her hope that maybe she and Brock could make their family work after all.

  “Thank you so much, Bree,” she said. “And now I have a favor to ask. You remember how I helped you with your little makeover?”

  Bree nodded. “You definitely don’t need a makeover.”

  “Brock’s den needs a makeover. You have a wonderful eye. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind helping me.”

  “I’m flattered,” Bree said. “Of course I’ll help.”

  After taking photographs of the den and talking about ideas, Elle and Bree decided to go shopping and found the perfect couch, a recliner for Brock and a sofa table. Unaccustomed to having things delivered at the drop of a dime, Elle blinked at how Bree arranged to get the furniture delivered immediately. Bree left with a hug and Elle went to an electronics store to purchase a huge television. As soon as she mentioned her address, the store manager agreed to deliver and set it up immediately.

  By seven thirty, she was propped on the new sofa, watching a chick flick on the new television while she ate roasted chicken, green beans and macaroni and cheese. The sad thing was that Brock still hadn’t come home. Elle consoled herself with the macaroni and cheese, even though she knew she would rue the effect later.

  Just before eight o’clock, Brock strode into the room, glancing around in surprise. “Where’d the furniture go?”

  “You told me to redo a room,” she said. “This is the room I’ve chosen.”

  He glanced at the television. “That’s a great picture. I bet you would feel like you’re at the game when you’re watching baseball,” he said.

  “That’s the idea,” she said, pleased with her purchase. “Do you mind trying out your new chair?” she asked, waving her hand toward the recliner.

  He gave a short laugh and moved to the chair, sitting down and easing back. He let out a sigh. “Perfect,” he said.

  Elle beamed. “I think I sat in fifty chairs before I chose that one.”

  “I like the couch, too,” he said. “The room looks totally different.”

  “I’m not done with it yet, but I think I’ve made a good start.”

  He shot her an inquisitive glance. “You’ve been a busy girl.”

  She nodded. “Yes, I have.”

  He glanced at her plate. “And you’re eating well, too. I’m glad to see it.”

  Elle sighed, looking at her mostly empty plate. “I’m craving carbs. Heaven help me when it’s all over.”

  “You’ll be a beautiful mother,” he said quietly.

  “Do you really think so?” she asked.

  “Yes, I do,” he said.

  She wanted to ask him if he’d missed her today, if he’d thought of her at all, but she knew the question would sound silly. “How was your day?” she asked.

  “Good. Fuller than I expected. I had dinner with a prospective client. The owner of a cosmetics company based on the west coast.” He rose from the chair.

  “Sounds exciting,” she said, hoping he would tell her more.

  “It’s the beginning stages, so anything can happen. You know how it goes.” His gaze fell over her like a warm veil of heat. “Come upstairs and we can relax in the hot tub.”

  The desire in his eyes temporarily dissolved her questions. She gave a slow shake of her head. “Pregnancy and hot tubs aren’t a good idea. Something about the high temperatures being dangerous for the baby.”

  He nodded. “I see.”

  “But a bath or a shower is okay,” she said.

  He extended his hand. “Come upstairs with me,” he said. “I’ve missed you.”

  Those last three words were pure magic to her.

  On Sunday, Brock didn’t go into the office and Elle persuaded him to go for a walk on the beach and share a picnic.

  Brock leaned back against the quilt they’d spread out on the sand. “I can’t remember the last time I did this.”

  “Maybe you should do it more often,” she said, packing away the remnants of their picnic lunch.

  “Maybe,” he said, his gaze skimming over her, taking a long swallow from his water bottle. “How are you adjusting to being a Maddox bride?”

  “I’m getting there,” she said. “I’m just hoping my husband will be home more when our child is born.”

  He inhaled and nodded thoughtfully. “I’m working on it. My father spent a lot more time at the office than he ever did with us.”

  “What do you want?” she asked. “More time in the office? Or more time with your child?”

  “I hadn’t even considered it until now,” he said. “I was always too busy protecting and growing the company.”

  “I don’t really know what to expect of a father,” she said and shrugged, “because my father left as soon as he found out my mother was pregnant.”

  “That must have been tough for both of you,” Brock said.

  She nodded. “It was, but my mother and I were always very close, so I’m lucky that way. Unconditional love between us.”

  “But something tells me you had to take care of her a lot,” Brock said.

  “True,” she admitted. “But with her, I always felt good enough. Did you ever feel that way with your father?”

  “Hmm,” he said. “Good question. I was always pushed to do better, do more.” He glanced at her. “In that way, you were lucky.” He rose up and leaned toward her, pressing his mouth against hers. “What inspired you to be such a hard worker?”

  “I didn’t want to be at the mercy of any man,” she said. The answer came easily to her lips.

  He lifted his eyebrows. “Really?”

  “Yes. I spent my entire life with my grandfather supporting us though he was ashamed of us. I didn’t want that for my future. I studied and worked hard,” she said, then closed her eyes. “Then my mother got sick.”

  She felt him stroke her hand. “When did Koteas approach you?”

  Bitterness filled her mouth. “When my mother’s improvement dipped and the only thing that could help her was the experimental treatment. Of course, insurance wouldn’t cover it. And my grandfather wouldn’t cover it without a price.”

  “Did you plan to seduce me?”

  Elle laughed and opened her eyes to meet his gaze. “That’s one of the funniest things you’ve ever said to me. I was terrified you wouldn’t hire me. When you finally did, I was fascinated by you. You were this unstoppable force. I’d never met anyone like you.”

  “You went to bed with me without a blink of an eye,” he said.

  “I—” She b
roke off, feeing a stab of guilt mixed with a myriad of other emotions. “I couldn’t miss out on being with you,” she said. “Why did you decide to be with me?”

  “Same reason, different words,” Brock said, sliding his hand behind her neck and drawing her mouth against his. “I couldn’t resist you.”

  Six

  “Oh, my God! Vandals have struck,” a woman’s shrill voice called.

  Just out of the shower, Elle quickly wrapped her robe around her. Alarmed, she pushed open her door and raced—carefully—down the stairs.

  Another shriek sounded from the area of the den.

  Elle finally made it there in bare feet and gaped at Brock’s enraged mother, Carol. “Oh, my God,” the sophisticated, elegant woman repeated.

  “It wasn’t a vandal,” Elle said breathlessly. “It was me.”

  Carol looked at her and frowned as much as her Botox-treated brow would allow. “Who are you?”

  Elle fought a flutter of nerves. “I’m Elle,” she said. “Elle Linton—”

  “Linton,” Carol interjected. “That name is familiar. Don’t tell me,” she said, lifting her hand when Elle opened her mouth to speak. “I know that name.” She blinked in recognition. “My son Brock’s assistant.” Then she frowned again. “Why are you here? And wearing a robe? And destroying my den?” Carol said, looking around the room in complete disapproval.

  Elle paused, then said, “Elle Linton Maddox.”

  Carol’s eyebrows would have risen to her hairline if they could have. “Maddox? Oh, my God. Has my son married you?” Her gaze immediately dipped to Elle’s belly. “Are you pregnant?”

  Elle cleared her throat, realizing that Brock hadn’t bothered to contact his mother about their marriage. “Brock and I were married just last week.”

  “Oh,” Carol said, clearly at a loss for words. “He didn’t tell me.”

  Although Elle understood why Brock resisted his mother’s involvement in both business and his personal life, she felt a twinge of sympathy for the woman. It couldn’t be easy hearing that your oldest son had gotten married—from the new wife herself. “I’m sorry. I realize this is awkward,” Elle said. “Brock has told me a lot about you.”