Prentice wanted to kick a man and scream at him in public, and the only thing keeping her from doing just that was what was left of her self-control.
“Wow,” he mused aloud, a barely concealed chuckle in his tone, “you just had quite the talk with yourself, didn’t you?”
“What?”
He sat up, braced his elbows on his knees and locked his gaze with hers. “Your face. It’s so easy to read, it’s ridiculous. You don’t keep secrets well, do you.”
“No, I really don’t,” she muttered, disturbed a little at how easily he could read her. But then she told herself it didn’t matter, since even reading her face so expertly, he didn’t believe what he saw. “I’m not a good liar, Max. That’s why I don’t lie.”
“Uh-huh.” Max would have liked to believe her, but how could he? Those big blue eyes of hers seemed to look right through him, and he wondered what she saw in him. What she’d seen from the beginning that had sent her to him for help when her world had crashed down around her.
He glanced around the café and reassured himself no one was paying the slightest attention to the two of them. Turning back to Julia, he watched her squirm uncomfortably on the couch and read her body language easily enough. She was uneasy in his presence and he thought he knew why.
“You went to see your parents yesterday, didn’t you?”
Her eyes darkened a bit in memory, and Max knew he’d guessed right. He was willing to bet that the elder Prentices hadn’t been happy with their daughter’s news.
“Yes.”
“Told them about the baby?”
“Yes.” She shifted, tugged the hem of her pale blue skirt closer to her knees and crossed her feet daintily at the ankle. As neatly as a nun, she folded her hands together in her lap. “They were … unhappy.”
He laughed shortly. “I’m guessing that’s an understatement.”
She winced. “Pretty much.”
Max didn’t need her to explain what that conversation had been like. He’d met her parents briefly at some social function in the city and hadn’t exactly been impressed with their warmth. In fact, he found it amazing that a woman with the fire Julia had could have come from people so inherently cold.
Oddly enough, looking at her now, seeing the distress that still clouded her eyes at the mention of her parents, Max realized that he’d like nothing better than to go see them. Tell them what he thought of parents who couldn’t bring themselves to support their own child.
“My mother,” Julia said, capturing his attention, “is appalled at the idea of being labeled a grandmother.”
“Her loss,” he said tightly, and was rewarded by a flash of light in her eyes. Wanting to see that spark again, he said, “My mother would have been on cloud nine.”
“Really?”
Max smiled. He didn’t often think of his parents, because memories only made him miss them more. But now he allowed his mother’s smiling image to fill his mind. “Oh, yeah. She used to harp on me all the time about making her a grandmother. She’d have been excited at the prospect.”
Julia’s mouth curved gently, sadly. “I’m sorry she’s not here to know you’re going to be a father.”
Instantly his insides tightened. “We both know that’s not true, though, don’t we?”
“Max, please believe me,” she said, reaching out one hand to him. Her fingers closed around his and in response, he felt heat shoot up the length of his arm and slam into his chest.
And because that sensation was so strong, he battled it back, refusing to be swayed by it. Instead, he squeezed her fingers briefly, then let go. “What’d your folks have to say about the wedding?”
She sighed, clearly understanding that he wanted a change in subject. “Well, that news took their minds off the baby.”
This time, Max’s laugh boomed out into the café and several heads turned to look. Ignoring them, he straightened, leaned in closer to her and said, “Not surprising, is it? The fact that I could buy and sell your father three times over isn’t enough to make up for the lack of a pedigree?”
“Not to them.”
“But you don’t care?” He watched her. He’d know if she lied in her response, and suddenly, he really wanted to know what she thought. He knew she was only marrying him because she felt she had no choice. But he needed to know what she thought of him. What she really felt.
“Of course I don’t,” she said, and he knew instinctively that it was the truth. A glint of anger shone briefly in her eyes as she fixed her gaze on him. “Do you really think I’m that shallow? Do I strike you as someone who cares more about a person’s background than the person himself?”
He studied her for a long moment, taking in the heightened color in her cheeks and the light of battle in her eyes. “No,” he said finally, his voice low and soft, “you don’t.”
“Well, that’s something, anyway,” Julia muttered. “You still think I’m a liar, but at least you don’t believe I’m elitist about it.”
He gave her a quick grin. “See? We’re already getting along great.”
Julia frowned at him.
“They really gave you a bad time, didn’t they?” he asked, his smile fading.
“No more than I was expecting.”
“I’m sorry it was hard on you,” he said, reacting more to the glimmer of pain in her eyes than to anything else.
“Are you?” she asked.
“Of course I am. I’d feel sorry for anyone who’d had to grow up with those two polar bears.”
She stiffened a little and Max admired her instinctive defensive posture. Even though she and her parents weren’t close, it was apparent she wasn’t going to let anyone else speak badly of them.
“They’re not bad people,” she said, and he wondered if she was trying to convince him or herself. “They just never should have had children.”
Again he studied her for a long minute, then said quietly, “I’m glad they did.”
“Really?” She shook her head and gave him a wry smile. “Why would you be glad? You’re marrying a woman you don’t love and agreeing to be the father of a child you don’t believe you created.”
“I’m marrying my lover,” he said, lowering his voice until it was nothing more than a low rumble of sound pitched so only she could hear him. “A woman who sets my body on fire with a glance. And I’m getting the heir I want. Like I said before, a win-win for me.”
“I don’t understand you,” she said, tipping her head to one side as if trying to get a better picture of the man. “You’re taking this so lightly.”
“No,
