Barbara Dunlop: Marriage, Manhattan Style

The time for waiting had passed. They both knew it, and he’d pulled her down on the bench. After long minutes, maybe hours of kisses and caresses, he’d dispatched her panties. Then he buried himself deep inside her. Two weeks later, he’d proposed, and she had enthusiastically talked herself into happily ever after.

Her friends and family in New Hampshire had warned her against marrying a billionaire. His old family money put him in a completely different social class. And they’d told her that her and Reed’s expectations of marriage might be completely different. But Elizabeth had been certain their deep love would conquer all obstacles.

Now, five years later, and a whole lot less certain, she moved to the glass balcony doors of her opulent bedroom. Below her penthouse on the twelfth floor of 721 Park Avenue, traffic hummed, and the lights of the cityscape rolled off toward the horizon on this mild, October night. She tugged the heavy curtains closed.

Although she’d recognized the wisdom in Hanna’s advice, Elizabeth had felt better putting the decision in the hands of fate. The toss was heads, so the choice was made. She was fighting for her marriage in a different way, starting this minute.

She marched back to the cherrywood chest. The pewter handle was cool under her fingertips as she slid the top drawer open. She thumbed her way through dainty nightgowns and peignoirs, making her way to the bottom of the stack.

And there it was.

Her stomach fluttered as she slid out the red silk negligee she’d worn on her wedding night.

She unzipped the back of her skirt, shimmying out, tossing her jacket, blouse and underwear on a chair, suddenly anxious to get to Reed. She slipped into the negligee, feeling decadently beautiful for the first time in months. Then she crossed to the en suite, fluffing her auburn hair.

Her eyelashes were dark and thick against her green eyes, her pupils slightly dilated. She freshened her lipstick, stroked some blush over her cheeks, then stepped back to check out the effect in the full-length mirror. Her feet were bare, toenails polished a gleaming copper, and the red silk fell mere inches down her thighs, ending in a band of sheer lace. The neckline dipped low, with more lace that barely camouflaged her breasts.

As a final touch, she dabbed some perfume on her neck and dropped one of the spaghetti straps off her shoulder. Then she stretched to her full five foot five and placed a hand over her fluttering abdomen. Her three-carat diamond winked back at her in the mirror.

Reed was her husband, she reminded herself. She had every right to seduce him. Besides, Hanna would be proud.

She headed across the bedroom, switching off the lamp and padding down the hallway.

“Reed?” she cooed softly, emerging into the doorway of his office, snaking her arm up the cool doorjamb and striking a pose.

Two men looked up from where they were reading a letter.

At the sight of his wife’s sexy outfit, Reed’s jaw fell open, the words insider trading vanishing from his mind. The Securities and Exchange Commission’s letter slipped from his fingers to the desktop while, beside him, his vice president, Collin Killian, sucked in a shocked breath.

It took Collin a full three seconds to think to turn away. Reed supposed he couldn’t blame the man. It took Elizabeth five seconds to squeak out a gasp and flee down the hall.

“Uh…” Collin began, peering cautiously over his shoulder at the now empty doorway.

Reed swore as he rose to his feet and heard the bedroom door slam shut.

Collin reached for his briefcase. “Catch you later.”

“You stay put,” Reed commanded, striding across the room.

“But-”

“I just found out I’m being investigated by the SEC. You and I need to talk.”

“But your wife-”

“I’ll talk to her first.” What was Elizabeth thinking? He rounded the corner into the hall.

Collin called behind him, “I don’t think talking is what she has in mind.”

Reed didn’t bother answering.

Elizabeth had no business doing anything but talking. He wasn’t the one monitoring her basal body temperature, but he was pretty sure they were days ahead of schedule. He missed spontaneous lovemaking as much as she must, but he also wanted to be a father. And he knew damn well she wanted to be a mother. Programmed lovemaking was frustrating. But it was a sacrifice worth making.

He put his hand on the doorknob, forcing himself to pause, steeling his hormones for the sight he knew waited inside. His wife was a knockout, a sexy, sensual, stunning knockout, but he had to be strong for both of them.

He turned the knob and carefully opened the door.

“Elizabeth?”

“Go away.” Her voice was muffled as she wrapped a terry robe protectively around herself. A stream of light from the en suite backlit her as he shut the door and moved into the room.

“What’s going on?” he asked softly.

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

He longed to draw her into his arms, maybe slip his hands into the soft terry cloth and pull her tight against his body. It would take so little to nudge the robe open, reveal the negligee beneath, and to gaze on her luscious body. Collin would figure out that he should leave.

“Is it the right time?” Reed asked instead, knowing it wasn’t possible that she was ovulating, but still hoping against hope.

She slowly shook her head.

He allowed himself to move a step closer. “Then what are you doing?”

“I thought…” She paused. “I wanted…” Her green eyes blinked up at him. “I didn’t know Collin was here.”

Reed almost twitched a smile. “No kidding.”

Her hand went to her forehead. “He must think-”

“At the moment, he thinks I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

She fixed him with a probing gaze. “But you’re not.”

“Not tonight.”

Her gaze slid away.

“Elizabeth?”

She looked back. “I thought…We aren’t…”

He was pretty sure he knew where she was going. It was tempting, damn tempting. At this moment, he wanted nothing more than to make passionate love on their big, four-poster bed and pretend none of their problems existed.

He was willing to put off talking about the SEC investigation. But he wasn’t willing to compromise on their family. If they made love now, Elizabeth wouldn’t get pregnant again this month, and her tears would break Reed’s heart.

“Can you hold that thought until next week?” he asked.

Hurt and disappointment clouded her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but then she clenched her teeth, compressing her lips and squeezing her eyes shut for a couple of seconds.

When she opened them, her expression had smoothed out, and she seemed under control again. “Is there something going on? Why is Collin-”

“Nothing’s going on,” Reed quickly assured her.

Nothing but what had to be a completely bogus investigation, which Collin would quash as soon as humanly possible.

Reed hadn’t engaged in insider trading, or any other illegal or unethical business practice for that matter. Still, he couldn’t help speculating on the maximum sentence. In the current climate for white-collar crime, he imagined they’d try to throw the book at him.

That’s why they had to make this go away, and fast. It had to go away before the press or anybody else got wind of it. Including Elizabeth. Especially Elizabeth.

Their specialist said infertility was often related to stress, and she was stressed enough about trying to get pregnant, not to mention planning their fifth anniversary party. The last thing she needed was to worry about a potential court case.

“I have to head down to Collin’s apartment for a little while,” he told her.