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  “There’ve been too many demands at work,” he said, staring at the view. “Especially over the last several months.”

  Elle felt a stab and twist of guilt. “Because of me,” she said.

  His gaze flickered, but he didn’t look at her. “It’s water under the bridge,” he said. “I have to focus on repairing damage and making sure the company is secure and ready for the future.”

  More than ever, she hated that she had made Brock’s job even more demanding and difficult than it should have been. She put her hand on his arm. “I really am sorry,” she said.

  He shrugged away. “Like I said, we can’t focus on that. We have to move on. Speaking of which, let me show you the rest of the house.”

  She slipped her hand inside his, wishing she could get beneath the surface of Brock’s veneer. Although she’d suspected he’d let her closer than most, she still sensed that he kept a protective wall around his heart. For example, she knew nothing about his failed engagement. She hesitated to talk about it, but she was growing impatient with the secrets between them. Plunging into uncharted territory, she glanced up at him. “Did you ever bring your ex-fiancée here?” she asked softly.

  He glanced at her in surprise and shook his head. “No. I thought about it, but there was never time. Claire didn’t understand the demands of my position. She wanted a man who could take off and travel whenever she felt the urge. I couldn’t be that man. It wasn’t all her fault, though. Toward the end, I could tell things weren’t going to work out between us and I buried myself in my job even more.”

  “Was the breakup difficult for you?”

  He gave a wry smile. “I don’t like to fail,” he said. “At anything. I’d had a crush on her during college, but she was always in a relationship with someone else. We bumped into each other when she was finally single and I decided I’d finally gotten my chance.”

  Elle’s heart twisted at the idea of Brock waiting so long for a woman. He hadn’t had to wait any time at all for Elle. She’d tumbled head over heels for him right away. “If you had loved her so long, how could you let her go?”

  “She wasn’t happy. Besides, I’m not sure I would call it love back in college. It was more a case of unrequited lust then. The dream and reality didn’t match up. We weren’t well suited.”

  Digesting his explanation, she smiled cautiously in return. “And you think you and I are well suited?” she asked.

  “Things are only going to get better for you and me. Trust me,” he said.

  Walking into the large master bedroom with the same beautiful view as the deck downstairs, she watched him meet her gaze with pride. “Not bad, is it? I put money down on this place after I’d been working for my father for three years and had won a new account. He was pissed that I hadn’t consulted him first.”

  “I don’t think you needed to consult with anyone about this,” she said. “It’s your secret baby, isn’t it?”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “That’s an interesting way of putting it,” he said, glancing out the window.

  “Well, it is. How many people have you told about this place?” she asked.

  “Not many. My brother knows about it.”

  “Your one act of rebellion,” she said.

  “Oh, I rebelled more than once. This was just my most productive act of rebellion,” he said.

  “Did your father ever see it after you renovated it?”

  His eyes narrowed. “No. My father was a great man, but he never liked to admit when he was wrong.”

  “You don’t have that trait,” she said. “That was one of the things that drew me to you. You are extremely confident, and can made decisions at the speed of lightning. So many of the decisions you made when we were working together, I would have second- or third-guessed. But you went ahead and made them. In the rare moments when you were wrong, you admitted it and took another track.”

  “The ad business requires decisiveness. If you stay in the same place too long, you’ll get run over. I have too many people counting on me to allow that to happen,” he said, meeting her gaze with laser-blue intensity. “I can’t let them down.”

  He would never allow himself to let them down, just as he would never surrender the responsibility of his child. His sense of obligation was fierce and steadfast. She felt a shudder ripple through her at his expression and she found herself wondering if he would be the compassionate father she hoped he would be, or the hard taskmaster his father had been for him.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked. “I called ahead and the caretaker said he would put cold cuts in the refrigerator for us. After that, perhaps you’d like to rest again.”

  “A sandwich sounds good, but I’d rather go for a hike than take a nap. I can nap in San Francisco,” she said.

  “Not that I could see,” he said. “According to Anna, you were barely taking breaks for meals during the last week.”

  “I’m surrounded by tattletales,” she said in frustration. “You have these people watching me like hawks.”

  “I’m your husband now, Elle. It’s my responsibility to make sure you’re safe and well-cared for. “

  Responsibility. Obligation. Duty. She didn’t want to be any of those to Brock, but she was certain he wouldn’t understand her gripe, especially since she was pregnant with his child.

  “Sandwich and hike, then,” she said, lifting her chin. “You can take a nap if you’re feeling tired,” she suggested, unable to resist the urge to goad him a little.

  He chuckled and pulled her toward him. “You’ve forgotten. You always fell asleep before I did at my apartment.”

  She lifted her hand in surrender. “I can’t argue with that,” she said as he planted a kiss on her mouth.

  Several hours later, after lunch, hiking, and consuming a warmed-up chicken pot pie, Brock sat on the sofa and Elle brought him a scotch on the rocks. He noticed she did it as if she hadn’t thought twice about it.

  “Thanks,” he said and studied her for a long moment. “It occurs to me that you may know more about my preferences than I know about yours,” he said as she sank onto the couch beside him with a bottle of water.

  “Hmm,” she said and laughed with a self-satisfied smile. “You’ve never been anyone’s assistant, let alone my assistant.”

  Brock took a sip of the perfectly chilled scotch. “You don’t have to be arrogant about it,” he said with a grin.

  She slid a sideways glance at him. “I am not, nor have I ever been, arrogant. The concept is completely foreign to me.”

  “Okay, then you’re a show-off,” he said, taking another sip.

  She dropped her jaw. “I am not a show-off. If anyone is a show-off, it’s you,” she said. “Look at you, with you laser-blue eyes and dark hair. You’re charming when you’re inclined…”

  He frowned at her. “When I’m inclined?” he echoed.

  “It’s not every day,” she said.

  Brock shook his head. There were so many people who sucked up to him on a daily basis—but not Elle, and he liked her for that. “So what’s your favorite cocktail?” he asked.

  “Strawberry martini with sugar rim,” she said and licked her lips. “Delicious.”

  The sight of her tongue on her plum-colored lips made his gut draw tight. “Noted. Favorite meal?”

  “Depends on the day,” she said. “Especially since I’ve been pregnant. Lately I’ve been craving macaroni and cheese,” she said with a wince. “That’s gonna do terrible things to my hips.”

  “Your hips are perfect. Favorite sandwich?” he continued.

  “When I’m good, I’ll take a chicken and vegetable wrap. When I’m bad, open-faced turkey with gravy and mashed potatoes or roast beef.”

  “I like that about you,” he said, shooting her a smile. “I like that you are a red-meat eater,” he said, remembering the way she’d once savored a steak with béarnaise sauce.

  “Not lately,” she said.

  “Are you telling me you never want me to take you out
for a steak?” he asked.

  “No,” she admitted. “Just later.”

  “Okay, I’ll take a raincheck. Same for that strawberry martini,” he said. “Favorite toy from childhood?”

  She blinked. “My little pony,” she said. “I always wanted a pony, but I knew that was an impossible dream.”

  “Favorite dessert?” he continued, losing himself in her ocean-blue gaze.

  “Chocolate anything,” she said.

  He smiled. “If you could travel anywhere, where would you go?”

  “Europe.”

  “That’s a whole continent,” he said.

  “And your point is?” she said, lifting her eyebrow.

  He laughed, drinking in her audacity. “I wish my father had met you,” he said.

  “Why?” she asked. “I’m just an assistant.”

  He shook his head. “No, you’re more. Observant, responsive and fascinating.”

  “Now, you flatter me,” she said, flashing her eyes at him.

  “Technically, I don’t need to flatter you anymore. You married me, so I can coast.”

  “Oh, I think that would be a huge mistake,” she said. “For both of us. Don’t you?”

  Seven

  Brock made love to Elle through the night until she was too exhausted to continue. She curled up against his chest, slid her arms around his neck and fell asleep. The next morning she awoke to an empty place beside her. Elle lifted her head. She heard his voice, but not close by.

  Pushing aside the covers, she rose from the bed and listened as she pulled on her robe. Was he downstairs? She crept closer to the bedroom door, and pushed it open.

  “It’s Sunday, for God’s sake,” Brock said, his voice carrying from downstairs. “Can’t this wait?”

  Silence followed. She heard Brock swear. “Okay, okay. I’ll be back in town by this afternoon and in the office this evening.” He swore again. “This better be worth it,” he muttered.

  Elle felt a twist in her stomach. The short, sweet time they’d shared together was over. Her chest hurt. Her heart hurt, but she didn’t want him to feel bad after he’d made such an effort for them to get away. She bit her lip. “Hey,” she called downstairs. “This has been wonderful, but I’m ready to return to civilization if you don’t mind.”

  Brock walked out from under the second-floor landing so she could see him. Shirtless, he wore silk pants low on his hips. His bare chest was mesmerizing, his hair tousled by her fingers. He was the sexiest thing alive.

  “You don’t like the cabin?”

  Her heart wrenched in her chest, but she forced herself to step up and give the response he needed. “No, I love it. But I have a ton to do and I’m starting to feel a little antsy,” she said. “Do you mind?”

  His gaze wrapped around hers for a long moment and he shook his head. “No,” he said. “No problem. Let me know when you’re ready. I’ll load the car.”

  As soon as Elle and Brock arrived home in San Francisco, he returned to the office. Elle returned to redecorating the house. With the assistance of Bree, she’d found a decorator who helped her combine some of the older elements in the house with some of Brock’s taste. Elle decided to retain a semi-formal tone for the living room and dining room for entertaining.

  Brock was so busy he often didn’t come to bed until after eleven o’clock, but he always rose early. She knew he was still feeling pressured by Golden Gate Promotions. Despite her grandfather’s heart attack, he still hadn’t given up his fight against Maddox. More than ever, Elle was aware of how much her deceit was costing Brock. It seemed as if all he did was work. She didn’t see how they could possibly rebuild their relationship under the current circumstances, but she also couldn’t exactly stomp her foot and demand he spend more time with her.

  He surprised her one evening when he arrived home before dinner. She was eating a club sandwich in front of the television and debating whether to visit her mother again.

  “Hey,” he said, looking unbearably handsome in the doorway. “I like what you’ve done with the downstairs,” he said. “You combined the old with the new and lightened it up.” He glanced at her sandwich. “That looks good, too.”

  “I can fix you one,” she said, standing, filled with the instant pleasure of just being with him.

  He shook his head. “No, I can get the housekeeper. It won’t take a—”

  As if on cue, Anna stepped inside the room. “Good evening, Mr. Maddox. Mrs. Maddox.” Glancing at Elle’s plate, she shot her a disapproving glance. “Is there something I can get you?”

  “I’ll have the same thing she’s having,” Brock said. “With a beer.”

  “Club sandwich,” Elle supplied with a sheepish smile.

  “What was that about?” he asked curiously as he sat down beside her.

  “Your staff gets really upset when I fix my own food. I think they consider it an insult,” she said.

  Brock chuckled. “Trust me, they’re not used to anyone doing for themselves around here. Anna probably doesn’t know what to do with you.”

  “How’s work?” she asked, noticing that his lack of rest was visible around his eyes. “You look tired.”

  “You know I’m in the race for the gold against your grandfather. Can’t take a lot of breaks.”

  Frustration filled her. “I don’t understand him. I would have thought his heart condition would slow him down, or at least make him see reason.”

  “He and my father have a lot in common. My father was determined to leave the business for future generations of the Maddox family.”

  “Is that the way you feel?” she asked. “That you’re building Maddox for your heirs?”

  “At this point in the company’s growth, it’s more about taking care of the employees who are counting on me, and securing our growth for the future. I haven’t spent a lot of time thinking about what my heir will ultimately do.” Anna delivered the sandwich and beer. “Thank you,” he said to her. “Why do you ask, Elle?”

  “Just curious. Your father instilled in you a strong sense of family tradition and I wondered if you planned the same path for our child.”

  “You don’t like that idea,” he concluded, then shot her a sly smile. “You don’t think I turned out well?”

  “I didn’t say that,” she said, giving in to the urge to smile. “I just wouldn’t want our child to feel locked in to only one choice.”

  “If it’s a boy, he may want to play baseball,” he said.

  “Or sing opera,” she said, choosing the polar opposite to watch Brock’s reaction.

  “Not if he gets my musical ability,” Brock muttered, taking a bite of the sandwich and washing it down with a swig of beer. He let out a long sigh. “This is the most relaxed I’ve been since we left the mountain house. Thank God my dinner meeting had to cancel tonight.”

  Elle couldn’t decide whether to feel offended or flattered. “Well, it’s good to see you,” she said. “I’ve missed you.”

  He glanced up and met her gaze for a long moment. “I can see how it would get lonely around here.”

  “It’s not that,” she said. “I was just used to seeing you at the office, so I spent most of my days with you.”

  He nodded. Something about him seemed restless, unsettled. “It won’t always be this busy. I’ll be around more.”

  “Will you really?” she asked, keeping her voice light even though her feelings were anything but. “That workaholic gene is pretty strong.”

  “You’re not the first to notice,” he said, his gaze turning moody. “After we get through this crisis, I want to shift things so that I can delegate more often. But in the meantime, you and I have received our first social invitation,” he said, changing the subject. “Walter and Angela Prentice are having a cocktail party on Friday night and they specifically requested your presence.”

  The Prentice name was familiar to Elle—Walter’s company was Maddox’s most important client. “Do they know about the baby?” she asked, acutely awa
re that Walter was very image-conscious and wouldn’t tolerate even a whiff of a scandal.

  “I didn’t mention it, but Walter’s such a family man, I’m sure he’ll be delighted with the news, since we’re married.”

  “Family is everything,” she said, repeating the Prentice slogan.

  “Yes, it is,” Brock said, taking a bite of his sandwich and leaning his head back against the sofa.

  She felt a shot of sympathy for him, remembering the challenging days he’d endured when she’d worked for him. Finished with her dinner, she rose and stood behind him. “Take a deep breath and let the day go,” she said, repeating what she’d told him in his apartment so many times.

  “Hmm,” he said as she sank her fingers into his shoulders.

  “You can’t work 24/7,” she whispered. “You can’t work right now, so you may as well rest. Rest and get stronger for when you can do something.”

  Brock inhaled and exhaled. “I remember how much I craved these massages at the end of the day,” he murmured.

  She gently rubbed his shoulder muscles with her thumb and forefinger. “Good?” she asked.

  He groaned in response.

  She continued to knead his shoulders as she brushed her mouth against his ear. “Does it feel good?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Too good. I want more,” he continued. “I want to feel you every way I can. Inside and out,” he said and turned around to meet her gaze. “Let’s go upstairs.”

  “You haven’t finished your sandwich,” she said.

  “I’m hungry for something else.”

  The next evening, Brock asked her to meet him at the Prentices’ home, since he was running late. Elle dressed carefully, eager to convey just the right tone as Brock’s wife. After all, this was their first major public outing together. Fighting butterflies, she exited the car and climbed the steps to the Prentices’ mansion.

  With marble columns, a valet in the driveway and a man greeting guests in black tie at the door, the major clothing manufacturer’s property oozed success, as it should.