THE TROPHY WIFE

by Ginna Gray

  Though small, Elizabeth was perfectly proportioned, her body firm and curvaceous. And damn if she didn't have the most gorgeous pair of legs he'd ever seen—probably due to all that rigorous dancing that she and Mimi did.

  "Max? Well?" She stood facing him with her hands on her hips and her feet planted. "How long have you known it was Wyatt who was trying to ruin your project?"

  "Oh … uh, let's see. Since Monday, I think. Damn, woman, you have great taste in undies."

  "Will you quit focusing on my underwear and talk to me," she snapped.

  "Right. Um, since Monday." Max stepped out of his trousers and searched through his area of the closet for a pant hanger.

  "Since Monday? You've known all that time that I didn't betray you? And you didn't bother to call and tell me?"

  Standing there, wearing only his briefs, Max looked at her, thoroughly perplexed by the question. "Uh, I guess not. At the time it didn't seem like that big a deal."

  "It didn't— Ooh. You … you jerk! You tactless, thickheaded oaf! You let me stew for three days. Three days," she emphasized. "All that time racking my brain trying to figure out who was attempting to undermine your project, and feeling guilty that maybe I'd inadvertently let something slip. And all along you knew I wasn't to blame!"

  "Well, put that way, I guess I can see your point."

  "Oh, you can see my point, can you?" she fired back.

  Building steam, she stepped out of her high-heeled slides and paced the length of the closet. "You accused me of being disloyal—"

  "Hey, now. I never said you were disloyal."

  "As good as."

  Max crossed his arms over his bare chest and watched her stomp around the twenty-five-by-twenty-foot closet. During normal times she was serenely lovely, but damn, she was gorgeous in a full-blown temper. "Look, Sunday I'd just learned that someone was trying to wreck our project. I was blowing off a little steam. I didn't realize that I'd hurt your feelings."

  "Hurt my feelings?" Elizabeth stopped pacing and stared at him as though he'd grown a second head. "That's what you think this is all about? I got my feelings hurt. For your information, I've never been so insulted in my life. You impugned my honesty, my loyalty."

  Growing too angry to speak without crying, she picked up her shoes and turned away sharply to replace them on the shoe rack. "To have my own husband accuse me of that kind of dishonesty and disloyalty, without so much as hearing my side—"

  Max walked up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. "I know, sweetheart."

  Elizabeth stiffened. "What are you doing?"

  He snuggled his face into the side of her neck. "You're right. It was thoughtless of me. I'm sorry. But I didn't do it on purpose." He dragged his open mouth up the side of her neck and nipped her earlobe. His hands began to roam.

  "Oh! You have to be kidding!" She jerked her head away from his marauding mouth. "If you think you're going to enjoy a session of makeup sex, you're out of your mind."

  "Why not? Sounds like a plan to me," he murmured against her neck, not in the least deterred.

  "How dare you! You think you can just mouth a lame, 'I'm sorry' and I'll melt in your arms! In a pig's eye!"

  "C'mon, Elizabeth. We had a little misunderstanding. That's all."

  "Ooh, you're hopeless!"

  "You're right. You're absolutely right. I'm sorry. I should be horsewhipped," he vowed, but she heard the laughter in his voice.

  "This is not funny! Oh, no, you don't," she snapped, slapping at his roving hands. "You can just cut that out right now. If you think for one minute that anything is going to happen between us tonight, you're an even bigger idiot than I thought."

  She tried to squirm out of his arms, but Max merely chuckled and turned her around to face him. His sexy grin infuriated her all the more. "Wanna bet?" he challenged in that sexy rumble of his.

  Elizabeth's eyes widened. "You … you wouldn't dare force me."

  "Of course not." Max frowned at the thread of uncertainty in her voice. "There's no need for force, and we both know it. The chemistry between us is incendiary. We both know that, too."

  "Oh!"

  Max's attempt at defusing the situation seemed to infuriate Elizabeth and make matters worse. Ignoring her sputters, he lowered his head and began to string nibbling kisses along her neck and the tops of her shoulders, the underside of her jaw. "I missed you," he murmured against her skin between kisses.

  He held her in his arms, but his grasp was not tight. If she'd put her mind to it she could have broken free. Instead she twisted and turned within his embrace and pushed against his bare chest. "Let me go," she demanded.

  "In a minute," Max murmured, and kept up the gentle assault on her senses, stroking her breasts, pressing her close so that she could feel the evidence of his desire. With each hot caress of his lips and stroke of his hands, Elizabeth's resistance grew weaker. After only a few moments she winnowed her fingers through the mat of hair on his chest and kissed him back with burgeoning ardor.

  Breathless, hungry for each other, they kissed and stroked and made desperate little sounds. Unable to bear the torment anymore, Max bent and swooped Elizabeth up in his arms and strode out of the closet, into the bedroom.

  A while later, sated, Max lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, still breathing hard. Beside him, Elizabeth did the same. It was dark in the room, except for the light spilling out of the closet and the rose art-glass lamp on her dressing table.

  "Max?"

  Her soft murmur breached the deep silence. "Hmm?"

  "Sex doesn't change anything. I want you to know, I'm still angry with you."

  He rolled onto his side and draped his forearm across her middle. "Elizabeth, listen to me. I'm not much good at apologizing, so pay attention. I'm sorry for being so obtuse. I'm especially sorry for doubting you. I knew before Troy and I ever took off for Dallas that you didn't leak the information to Wyatt."

  "How did you know that?" she asked, her mouth still sulky. Absently she plucked at the short hairs on his arm.

  "After I cooled off, I realized that you would never do such a thing. It's just not in you."

  "Really?"

  "Really." A rueful grimace twisted his mouth. "I guess I was just looking for someone to blame so I could vent. But I knew better." He captured her plucking fingers and brought them to his lips for a kiss. "Forgive me?" he asked, giving her a pleading look.

  Though somewhat mollified, he could see that she didn't want to be. "I guess so," she said finally with a miffed air.

  Sitting up, she reached for her robe that lay at the end of the bed and slipped it on.

  "Where are you going?" Max asked.

  "To brush my teeth and clean my face," she replied, and disappeared into the bathroom.

  Lying back against the pillows, Max watched her go. He released a long sigh. He was happy, he realized. Genuinely, deeply happy. And totally satisfied with his life for the first time ever.

  All because of one small woman. How the devil could that be? From day one she'd been nothing but trouble. Yet … she made him happy. Go figure.

  * * *

  Fifteen

  « ^ »

  "I'm here to see Wyatt Lassiter," Max told the receptionist.

  The young girl looked confused. "Do you have an appointment, sir?"

  "No."

  "I'm afraid Mr. Lassiter is busy right now. He and Mr. Lassiter Senior are in conference with some clients."

  Max looked around. He spotted a door at the end of the hall that bore a sign that read Conference Room and started that way.

  "If you'd like to make an appoint— Wait! Sir! Sir, you can't go in there!"

  Max's long stride ate up the distance from the receptionist's desk to the door in seconds. Without bothering to knock, he barged into the room. Instantly eight heads swiveled in his direction.

  "What is this?" the elder Lassiter demanded. "We're in the middle of a meeting here. You can't just barge in."

  "I al
ready have." Without breaking stride, Max skirted around the table and walked to where Wyatt sat. Grabbing the lapels of his suit coat, Max hauled him up out of the chair, drew back his fist and punched him in the nose.

  Wyatt yelled and blood spurted. He stumbled back two steps and crashed to the floor. "Oh, God! My nose. You broke my nose." Rolling in agony, he moaned, his hand cupping his broken nose.

  Pandemonium broke out. Henry and his clients, two women and four men, jumped out of their seats and scrambled for safety.

  "You … you barbarian!" Henry shouted. "Get out of here at once."

  Ignoring him, Max hauled Wyatt up by the front of his shirt and shoved him up against the wall, holding him with his feet dangling about two inches above the carpeted floor. Nose to nose, Max snarled, "That was payback for what you did to Elizabeth."

  "What … whatever she told you, it was a lie."

  "Shut up, you weasel. I saw the bruise on her face. When it comes to slapping women around you're a big man, aren't you? But you're not so tough when you have to deal with another man. Now listen, and listen good. If you ever, ever, come near my wife again I will give you what you so richly deserve."

  "I-is that a threat?"

  "You bet your ass it is."

  Unable to move his head, Wyatt rolled his eyes around at the other gaping people. "Did y'all hear that? He threatened me. You're all witnesses."

  "I'm calling the cops," Henry threatened.

  Shoving Wyatt away from him as though he could no longer bear to touch him, Max turned to Henry with a narrow-eyed stare.

  "You do that. I'd love to have this animal you call a son arrested for assaulting my wife."

  "You … you can't prove that," Henry blustered.

  "You think not? There are two respected, genteel old ladies just itching to testify against Wyatt in court."

  Henry put down the receiver.

  "I thought you'd see it that way," Max said. "And in case you're entertaining any ideas about getting back at me by spreading rumors or trying to sabotage any more of my business deals, you should know that I took the precaution of taking a photograph of Elizabeth's face after your boy here got through knocking her around. I also have photos taken by her handyman immediately after the attack, and the witness statements on tape. Just imagine how convincing two sweet little old ladies will be on the witness stand."

  Max pointed his finger at Wyatt, who stood hunched over, moaning into his bloodied handkerchief. "Count yourself lucky that all I did was bust your nose. I'm warning you, come near my wife again and I'll hurt you."

  With that, he turned, stalked down the hallway and stormed into John Fossbinder's office. John looked up from the document he was reading.

  "Hey, Max. How's it going? I didn't expect to see you today."

  "This won't take long." After shaking hands, Max said, "I stopped by to tell you that I just broke Wyatt Lassiter's nose and knocked him on his ass."

  "What? You did what?" John was so shocked he shot to his feet, sending the desk chair careening back into the credenza. "I assume you had a reason for doing so?"

  "Damn right, I do." Max proceeded to tell him about Wyatt snooping into Elizabeth's file and using the information to try to undermine Max's project. The longer he talked, the more grave John's face became.

  "As you can imagine, Elizabeth and I are giving serious consideration to getting another attorney. If you can't control your people any better than—"

  "Don't worry. I'll fix this," John Fossbinder said with fire in his eyes. "You have my word on it."

  Wearing dark glasses and a bandage over her injured cheek, Elizabeth spent the morning with Mimi, finishing their Christmas shopping. She tried not to think about the confrontation that was going on in the offices of Fossbinder, Drummond and Lassiter.

  She and Mimi arrived home a little after two o'clock, but Max had not yet returned. Elizabeth imagined the worst, picturing him sitting in a jail cell, charged with assault. If he had been arrested, she hadn't the vaguest idea of how to go about posting bond for him.

  "Has he called?" she asked her aunt and mother-in-law the instant she and Mimi walked into the den. At the sound of her voice the kitten came running, skidding on the hardwood floors until she crashed into Elizabeth's feet. Picking herself up, she twined around Elizabeth's ankles, meowing for attention. Elizabeth put her purchases down and picked up the mewling kitten, cuddling it absently.

  "Yes. He said he had a few things to take care of at his office, then he'd be home," Iona said.

  "Did he see Wyatt?"

  "Apparently so. But he didn't go into details. All he said was he'd taken care of everything."

  "Ooh. That man! I'm sorry, Iona, I know he's your son, but honestly, sometimes he can drive me crazy with his knack for understatement. Or no statement at all."

  "Pshaw. Don't you worry, dearie. I understand. He's just like his father that way. Why, there were times when I wanted to whomp that man upside the head with a skillet he was so closemouthed."

  "Who was closemouthed?" Max asked, striding into the den from the front of the house.

  "Max," Elizabeth said with obvious relief. "You're home. Thank goodness. Are you all right?"

  Her eyes conducted a quick visual inspection as she asked the question. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

  "Why?" Planting her free hand on her hip, Elizabeth looked up at the ceiling and made a growling sound at the back of her throat. "Because you left here this morning with blood in your eye, ready to tear Wyatt limb from limb. All day I've been imagining all sorts of terrible things that could have happened to you, including you being shot by Wyatt or Henry, or ending up in jail. That's why."

  Mimi looked from Elizabeth to Max, grinning. "Get her riled up and she's a feisty little thing, isn't she, stud?"

  "So I'm learning. I usually don't care for temperamental women, but on her it's kinda cute."

  "Do you two mind? I prefer that you not talk about me when I'm standing right here."

  Max gave her an appraising once-over. "You were worried about me?" he asked with a hint of surprise in his voice, walking toward her. "That's nice." He gathered her to him, kitten and all. The playful animal immediately began to bat Max's necktie with one paw. Barely noticing, Max ran his gaze over her face. The other women fell silent, each watching with avid interest.

  "Well … I, uh … of course I was concerned," Elizabeth replied. "You're my husband."

  "That I am," he murmured, and lowered his head and kissed her.

  His lips were soft and caressing, hers trembling and compliant. Under the tender assault her senses swirled. She was no longer aware of the three women watching them, or the kitten that lay on its back in the crook of her arm, purring. She was practically purring herself by the time Max ended the kiss.

  She was a bit wobbly, and he kept his arms around her to steady her. With great tenderness, he touched her swollen, discolored cheek, and something lethal burned in his eyes. "And every time I look at what he did to you, I want to kill that animal."

  "I should think so," his mother stated. "In the meantime, we're all waiting to hear what happened this morning."

  "I can see that I'm not going to get any peace until I give you women a blow-by-blow account, am I?"

  "You're darn right you're not," Aunt Talitha informed him.

  "You came to blows? You actually came to blows? Ooh, this is getting good," Mimi exclaimed.

  Max heaved a put-upon sigh and sat down on the sofa. "I found Wyatt and his father in the conference room with some clients. I walked in, jerked Wyatt up out of his chair and punched him in the face. I'm sure I broke his nose."

  "Ooh, I would have loved to have seen that. Wyatt is so fussy about his pretty-boy looks."

  "Hush up, Mimi, and let the man talk. Then what?" Aunt Talitha demanded, eagerly leaning forward, her hands stacked on the handle of her cane.

  "Damn, you women are bloodthirsty," Max teased, but he finished the story, including his conversation with John Fossbind
er after the altercation.

  "After that I went to my office, spent a couple of hours briefing my people and came home."

  "So you don't think that the Lassiters will file assault charges against you?" Elizabeth asked, still not convinced.

  "No, I don't. First of all, we have the photos and Mom and your aunt for witnesses. Even if they were willing to go to court and have Wyatt's assault on you become public knowledge, I doubt that John, as head of the firm, would stand for it. For one thing, he thinks a great deal of you. For another, if Wyatt's assault on you and his unethical behavior were to be made public, it would reflect badly on the firm's good name and erode client trust."

  Common sense told Elizabeth that Max was probably right. Still, Wyatt and Henry Lassiter made formidable enemies. Neither man ever forgot the slightest injustice, real or perceived. Max had humiliated Wyatt in front of witnesses. She could not believe that father or son would let the matter drop without seeking revenge in some way.

  Expecting some sort of payback from the Lassiters, for the next few days Elizabeth jumped every time the telephone or the doorbell rang. She was so worried about what they might do that she had forgotten all about the man in New York who had tried to kill her. This is, until Detective Gertski telephoned on Friday morning.

  He had asked to speak to Mr. or Mrs. Riordan. Max had taken his mother to see Dr. Watson for a follow-up check so Gladys handed the telephone to Elizabeth.

  "Mrs. Riordan, I'm pleased to talk to you," he said. "I'm just following up. Have there been any more attempts on your life since you left New York?"

  "No, none at all, Detective."

  "I'm glad. Real glad. That sorta confirms our mistaken-identity theory."

  "I agree," Elizabeth told him. "I'm sure Max does, also. We've been home for more than two weeks, and nothing has happened."

  "That's good," the detective said. "However, to be on the safe side, I'd like to send you a photo array of men who fit the description you gave us. They all have prior arrests for crimes of this nature."