by Leanne Banks
Brock nodded. It seemed pregnancy was in the water at his firm lately. Jason was a huge new talent at Maddox, and when he’d married his wife, Lauren, he’d done so to avoid a scandal. It hadn’t taken long for Jason and Lauren to fall in love. Brock didn’t expect the same for himself, but he was determined to make his marriage to Elle successful, at least.
“I’m glad things worked out for them,” Brock said.
“Any chance your marriage will make you leave the office on time once in a while?”
Brock gave a cynical laugh. “On time? There's no such thing as a regular quitting time in my life until I’m sure Golden Gate can’t do any more damage to Maddox.” Even now, he wasn’t sure exactly how much Elle had told Koteas, and he refused to grill her in her current state.
“Okay, bro, just don’t forget to live your life. See you next week,” Flynn said.
“Next week. Bye.” Brock disconnected the call. He glanced out the window of his office at the shoppers and trolley cars in constant movement. He remembered the words his father once said when he’d been daydreaming instead of completing a school assignment: The world won’t stop just because you’ve got problems.
So true, he thought, pulling himself out of his distracted state. He picked up the phone to call a jeweler.
Three
Elle spent the day visiting her mother at home and her grandfather at the hospital. When she’d broken the news to her mother that she was going to marry Brock after all, her mother had been ecstatic. Elle still couldn’t believe it. The very thought of it locked up her brain, so she’d put off shopping for a dress or anything else. When Brock had called to invite her to dinner at his house, her mother had insisted she join him.
A chauffer picked her up at the condo and took her to Brock’s at six o’clock, but he wasn’t home yet. She wasn’t surprised. She’d worked for him long enough to know his first, second and third loves were Maddox Communications. He was the most dynamic, complex man she’d ever met and despite every reason she’d had to not get involved with him, she couldn’t stop herself. At the time that she’d fallen for Brock, she’d just been glad to get a piece of him.
Now, everything was a mess.
She sat in the den, which was far too fussy for her taste, and sipped a glass of orange juice and sparkling water. Tired from the day, she sighed, slipped off her shoes and closed her eyes. It seemed like seconds passed and then Brock was standing in front of her.
He studied her with a cryptic grin hovering on his lips. “I should have known you were pregnant when I had to wake you up to go home after we made love all those nights.”
Feeling her cheeks heat at memories of their intimacy, she straightened and pushed her feet into her shoes. “I have to be honest. For a while there, I was worried that something more serious might have been wrong with me.”
“But you’ve been thoroughly checked out?”
She nodded. “The doctor told me it’s not unusual to have a lack of energy. Supposedly that changes sometime during the second trimester.”
“Good,” he said and extended his hand. “Let’s have dinner. Then I have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise?” she echoed, feeling a secret rush of pleasure followed quickly by caution. “Is this a good surprise or a bad surprise?” she asked as he led her into the sunroom.
“I think most women would call it a good surprise,” he said. “Don’t ask any more questions. You’ll know soon enough.”
During dinner, he only made vague references to his work. Elle felt a stab of loss over his previous openness with her. She’d never realized how much she appreciated the way he’d shared his thoughts and concerns about the company. Of course, she couldn’t blame him for being guarded since he’d learned she’d been spying on him. Still, the loss tugged at her. They would never be the same again. He changed the subject and asked her about her activities.
“You visited both your mother and your grandfather? I told you to rest.”
“If I’d rested any longer, I would have screamed,” she told him. “Can you tell me you would be happy to lie in bed all day long?”
A flicker of heat shot through his gaze. “Under the right circumstances,” he said.
She felt a surprising sliver of arousal but shook it off. Even during their affair, they’d rarely stayed in bed more than an hour or two. “I would like to see those circumstances,” she said.
The housekeeper poked her head inside the room. “Mr. Walthall is here, Mr. Maddox. He’s waiting in the front living room when you’re ready.”
“Ah, the surprise,” he said and glanced at her plate. “Are you sure you’ve had enough to eat?”
“Plenty,” she said. “I was told to try to stick with small, frequent meals.”
“Then we’ll make sure that’s what you get. I’ll tell Anna.” He stood. “Ready?”
“Brock, it’s not your housekeeper’s job to make sure I’m eating properly.”
“She’ll love it. My mother is on the twig-and-berry diet, so Anna will be thrilled at the prospect of fattening you up.”
She shot him a dark look. “I don’t plan to get fat. I just plan to be healthy.”
He shrugged. “That’s what I said.”
Not really, she thought, but didn’t say so as they turned the corner into the formal living room where a man sat with several large cases. He stood and extended his hand. “Mr. Maddox. Phillip Walthall. I’m happy we can be of service to you. And this is?” he asked, looking at Elle.
“This is my fiancée, Elle Linton,” Brock said. “Elle, Mr. Walthall is a jeweler. He’s going to show you some selections so you can choose something you’d like.”
“An engagement ring,” she said, unable to keep the dismay from her voice. She was still trying to pretend this wasn’t going to happen. How in the world would she be able to avoid it if she were wearing a ring all the time? “I don’t need one.”
“Of course you do.”
Mr. Walthall laughed. “Give me a chance to change your mind.”
Brock urged her to sit while the jeweler pulled out a tray of diamonds that made her blink. Although she and her mother had lived in a nice place, they’d been careful with their money. Her mother had always worked and Elle had attended a state college. She’d never envisioned wearing a ring that looked like it cost more than her tuition had. “These are all so big,” she said.
Mr. Walthall chuckled again. “That’s not a complaint, is it?”
“I’m just overwhelmed,” she said.
“What I like to ask my clients is, what is your dream engagement ring? All these years, you must have secretly dreamed about the ring you might receive from the man you chose to marry,” Mr. Walthall said.
Elle closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Had she ever dreamed about an engagement ring? More often, she’d dreamed of having a father. Then, she’d dreamed of finding a man who would love her as much as she loved him. She’d known Brock would never love her like that, but she hadn’t been able to resist him. If she was going to have a ring, why not make it meaningful, at least to her? “What is December’s birthstone?”
Mr. Walthall lifted his shoulders. “It depends. Blue topaz, tanzanite or ruby, depending on your point of view.”
“Why do you ask?” Brock asked.
“The baby is due in December,” she said.
She saw sadness and something else she couldn’t quite read in his eyes. “My father’s birthday is in December.”
Elle felt a riveting connection with Brock ripple through her. How amazing that their child would be born in the same month as Brock’s father. “I’d like to see some options that would include blue topaz, tanzanite or ruby.”
“Very nice. I always like it when a couple makes a choice that has personal meaning,” Mr. Walthall said.
Within a matter of minutes, she had chosen a series of beautiful tanzanite stones to accent a solitaire diamond. “A half-carat diamond,” she suggested.
Mr. Walthall’s face
fell. “A half?”
“Eight carats,” Brock corrected.
Elle felt her eyes nearly bug out of her face. “I’ll need a crane,” she protested.
“You may not realize this, but your ring is not just a reflection of your taste. It’s a reflection of me, too,” Brock said.
She bit her lip, thinking he was spending an obscene amount of money. “You could feed a third-world country with this,” she wailed.
“If it will make it easier for you, I’ll send out a donation matching the cost of the ring tomorrow,” Brock said wryly.
“Can we knock it down to three?” she asked.
“Five. That’s final,” he said.
Elle looked at the jeweler, who appeared totally bemused by their negotiations. “I guess it’s five.”
Mr. Walthall nodded. “It will be a beautiful ring.”
“When can you have it?” Brock asked.
“When would you like it?” Mr. Walthall replied.
“Tomorrow,” he said.
“As you wish, sir.” Mr. Walthall put the trays into his suitcase and clicked them closed. “It’s a pleasure to do business with you. If you change your mind and wish to increase the size of the diamond tomorrow morning, just give me a call and we can make the adjustment.”
The jeweler left and silence fell over Brock and Elle like a blanket.
Brock cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize the baby would be born the same month as my father’s birthday.”
She looked up at him. “Does it bother you?”
He paused a long moment and his gaze softened. “No. It sounds crazy, but I think it will be a comfort.”
She stared at him in surprise. He was a strong man who never asked for comfort, who never seemed to need comfort. Unable to keep herself from reaching out to him, she lifted her hand.
He drew back. “I want you to stay here tonight,” he said.
“Why?” she demanded, hurt by his rejection of her gesture. “There’s no reason I can’t stay with my mother until—” She stopped. “Until we’re married.”
His face turned to stone. “You’re still doing too much. I can be sure you’ll be taken care of if you’re here.”
Elle sighed. She considered arguing, but the truth was she was tired. It wasn’t as if she would be sharing Brock’s bed. The thought made her stomach clench and her skin burn. What would happen when they made love again? Would it be like before? Was it possible that they could share the passion they once had?
She forced herself to focus on the baby. “I do need the rest,” she said. “But I want to stay at my mother’s tomorrow night.”
“I’ll send a driver and mover to pack your things and bring them here,” he said and looked at her with a possessive gaze. “Plan to stay here tomorrow night. The ring will be ready, and I’ll want to put it on your finger.”
By Saturday, Elle still wasn’t accustomed to the weight of the engagement ring on her finger. She was thankful for the distraction of the baby shower for Jason and Lauren. One of Lauren’s neighbors in Mission Hill was holding the party at her house. Brock had insisted that his chauffeur take her there. He didn’t want her driving, which she thought was ridiculous.
She carried her gift for Jason and Lauren’s baby boy into the house. Blue balloons and decorations filled the foyer and the large living room had been made ready for the baby shower.
Lauren, with a big baby bump, glanced up as Elle walked into the room. “Elle,” she said, rising to her feet. “I’m so glad you could come. Look at that gorgeous gift. Tell me what’s in it,” she said, beaming with pregnant radiance.
Elle couldn’t help smiling. “You’ll have to open it,” she said.
Lauren made a face. “You can’t give me a hint?”
“It’s blue,” Elle said.
Lauren laughed. “Come here and have some wine,” she said. “I can’t drink it but the rest of you can. I want to toast your engagement.” She put her arm around Elle and guided her to a table. “How did you keep it so quiet?”
Elle bit her lip. “It just kind of happened. I don’t think either of us expected it. Hey, that punch looks delicious.”
“That’s for me,” Lauren said, “since I’m on no booze. But you can have some.” Lauren poured a ladle full in one punch cup and then another. She lifted hers in a toast. “Wishing you the happiest, most wonderful marriage ever.”
Elle felt her throat knot with emotion. How could this marriage possibly be the happiest ever? “Thank you,” she said and took the teensiest sip possible. The last thing she wanted to do was get sick at the shower.
“Give me the scoop,” Lauren said. “From the press release, it sounded like you two will be married soon. What’s the rush?”
Elle felt her stomach turn. “You know Brock. When he makes a decision, he moves fast.”
Lauren laughed. “You’re so right.”
Elle felt the rise of nausea in the back of her throat. “Excuse me. I need to use the powder room. Could you tell me where it is?”
“Oh, right through that hallway,” Lauren said and pointed. “Go right ahead. I’ll be here when you get back.”
Elle rushed to the powder room. After she recovered, she splashed her face with water and rinsed out her mouth. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself. She walked outside and immediately ran into Lauren, who studied her with concern. “Come here for a moment,” she said and whisked her away to a private bedroom. “Are you okay?”
“Of course,” Elle said. “I just feel a little off. It’s probably a little virus or something I ate.”
Lauren paused and shook her head. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”
Elle’s heart leaped into her throat. She would have tried to lie but the sympathy in Lauren’s eyes prevented her. “Please don’t tell anyone. Brock insisted that we get married.”
Lauren nodded. “I’ve been in your same situation.”
“I’m not sure it’s exactly the same,” Elle muttered, thinking of her grandfather and how she had betrayed Brock.
“Close enough,” Lauren said. “Just try to be open to possibilities. It could turn out much differently than you expect—I speak from experience. Most importantly, take care of yourself. You’ve got someone precious growing inside you.”
Elle felt a sudden urge to cry. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. “Thank you,” she said. “You don’t know how much I appreciate that.”
Lauren pulled her into an embrace. “Have you thought about names?”
“That’s way in the future,” Elle said. “I’m still just getting through today.”
“The good times will come soon. Believe me,” Lauren said.
Elle could only hope her friend was right.
Two days later, Elle put on the dress she and her mother had found on sale at an exclusive shop not far from Maddox Communications. Elle had thought about visiting Brock at the office at the time, then quickly dismissed the idea. He wouldn’t have wanted her there.
“You look beautiful,” her mother said, hugging her. “I’m so happy you’re getting married. I’m so happy your baby will have the father you never had. You have no idea what a relief that is, Elle.” Her mother sighed. “I wish I could have given you that.”
Elle’s heart twisted. “You gave me the best things in the world. You, attention and bubbles.”
Her mother laughed. “You always did like bubbles.” She put her hands on Elle’s belly. “I bet your baby will like bubbles, too.”
“You and I both will blow bubbles for him or her,” Elle said, unable to resist a smile.
“Yes, we will,” her mother said. “But first, it’s time for you to get married.” She leaned toward Elle and brushed a kiss over her cheek. “You’re beautiful, sweetheart. Your Brock is so lucky. Be happy, my girl. Be happy.”
Elle could only hope. She forced her lips into a smile as her stomach turned somersaults. She looked in the mirror. Was that really her? That woman wearing ivory with baby’s breath in her hai
r? Was she really going to marry Brock Maddox? And could they really make their marriage work?
She and her mother rode in a chauffeured car to the beach location for the wedding. The sun had burned off most of the morning fog, so at least there would be no rain. The car pulled to a stop in front of the private cottage where they would eat a meal afterward. Elle spotted Brock in the distance. Her heart stuttered at the sight of him. When she’d first met him, she’d never dared to dream they would be married. There were too many obstacles. She wondered again if this was a mistake.
“Elle,” her mother said, lifting her hand to smooth the crease between Elle’s brows. “Stop worrying. This is a happy day.”
“But—” Elle said, fear twisting her inside like a vise.
“No buts,” her mother said. “Remember. Never trouble trouble unless trouble troubles you.”
Elle smiled at the saying her mother had quoted to her so many times throughout the years. She took a deep breath. Just for today, she would try not to trouble trouble. She followed her mother from the car to the cottage where the hostess greeted them.
“Everyone is ready for you,” the woman said. “Especially the groom. The harpist is already playing.”
“Harpist?” Elle said in surprise, craning to look out the window.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the hostess said. “Perhaps that was supposed to be a surprise.”
Her mother’s eyes danced with excitement. “I’ll go first, like we planned,” she said, smoothing her blue dress then lifting her hand to Elle’s cheek. “I’m so happy for you, and for the baby.”
Elle’s stomach dipped. “I love you, Mom,” she said.
Elle watched her mother walk down the stone path, then down smooth wooden planks over the sandy beach. The blue-gray Pacific rippled with white crests. Gathering her courage, she walked toward the door. A bouquet was pushed into her hands.
Blinking, Elle glanced at the hostess again in surprise.
The hostess smiled. “Mr. Maddox insisted. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”
