Staring out the taxi window, Lauren took in the towering white buildings of Union Square’s posh shopping district. Somewhere in that concrete jungle with palm trees waited Maddox Communications. She’d done more research on the Internet about MC before leaving Jason’s house. She was a businesswoman in her own right and knew to arm herself as well as possible before entering any new camp.
The Maddox patriarch, James, had founded Maddox Communications more than fifty years ago. He’d married Carol Flynn and they’d had two sons: Brock and Flynn, who each went into the family business. When James died eight years ago, Brock took over the helm, with his brother acting as vice president.
Lauren leaned forward, reading signs, watching for Powell Street, and, more important, the building referred to as The Maddox. Finally the cab cruised to a stop in front of the seven-story, Beaux Arts–style building constructed in 1910. The article she’d found said the building had been set for demolition when James Maddox saved it from the wrecking ball and had it lovingly restored in the late seventies.
Now the building was reputed to be worth ten times his purchase price.
She tipped the cabbie and stepped out of the taxi. Automatic doors whooshed wide. The first floor was home to the trendy New American cuisine restaurant Iron Grille and several retail stores. At the elevator, she consulted the building legend and found the second and third floors were rented out to other businesses.
Floors five and six were the corporate offices. Directions indicated that clients and visitors to Maddox Communications should enter the offices on the sixth floor.
Elevator Muzak piped jazz horns, floors chiming smoothly and quickly. The elevator opened directly to a reception desk and total opulence and edginess, from the black-stained oak floors to the stark white walls with original art. Two seventy-inch plasma screens sat on either side of the large reception desk, showing videos/commercials with a small scroll of words along the bottom proclaiming they’d been produced by Maddox Communications.
Jason had landed well in his new job. A sense of pride in his accomplishment beyond his parents’ wealth stirred. She sure understood how tough it could be to step out of the shadow of influential parents to make your own mark in the world.
Lauren’s low heels clicked along the high-sheened floors.
The receptionist smiled. “Welcome to Maddox Communications.” Her short brown hair swished with every perky twitch of her head. “How can I help you?”
Lauren glanced down at the woman’s name plate—Shelby—and smiled. “Hello, Shelby, I’m here to see Jason Reagert. My name’s Lauren Presley.”
“Yes, ma’am, if you’ll wait over there?” She gestured to the large white leather sofas.
Lauren flickered her thumb over the engagement ring nervously as butterflies stirred. Shelby eyed her with undisguised curiosity. Lauren’s stomach flipped again.
Suddenly Lauren wasn’t so sure this had been a good idea, after all. What kind of game had she been expecting to play? She’d wanted to show Jason she was in charge and had only succeeded in looking erratic.
She cringed inside. Maybe she should just leave. She inched her purse around to cover her stomach, starting to stand.
A shadow stretched from the hall and she hesitated. Was it Jason already?
A lean man, around forty with black hair, came into sight, stern and very obviously not Jason. The man stopped at the desk, passing a note, his voice low. Lauren decided to make her big escape—
Shelby whispered back and pointed to Lauren. He straightened and walked toward her. Damn.
He extended his hand. “Hello, I’m Brock Maddox.” The CEO. The big boss and obviously one confident son of a gun. “I understand you’re here to see our wonderboy.”
Busted. She shook his hand. “Lauren Presley. I’m a friend of Jason’s. I’m also a graphic designer. We worked together on a couple of projects back in New York.”
He eyed her stomach briefly. Sheesh. Was it that obvious? Apparently so. “Are you in San Francisco on work or vacation?”
“Both,” she answered noncommittally. “Shelby was just about to let Jason know I’m here.”
“Follow me. You can surprise him.” Brock gestured over his shoulder and began plowing deeper into the Maddox offices, making low small talk she barely registered.
She was committed now to seeing this through. She quelled her nerves as he stopped in front of a door with a brass plate: Jason Reagert.
Inhaling a bracing breath, she pushed open the door and stopped short. Jason stood with his back to her—with a woman. A smiling, stunningly beautiful red-haired woman who had her hand placed intimately on his arm.
Fluttering nerves morphed into stone-still anger and a possessiveness that unnerved her to the tips of her toes.
He couldn’t actually be seeing someone else? For a guy who cared about causing a scandal at work, he sure was playing with fire on a lot of levels.
Lauren stiffened her spine, feeling as frozen as the chill seeping into her heart. As she took in the couple standing together in his sleek office full of nautical prints, she couldn’t believe she’d actually allowed herself to be hopeful simply because he’d brought her some toast and milk.
God, she was too easy. She’d had it with passively letting people walk all over her—her mother, her accountant, now Jason. She twirled the ring on her finger. At least she’d gotten a wake-up call when it came to the father of her baby.
He’d brought her here, damn it. And she wasn’t going to scamper off like some scared rabbit. He wanted a fiancée? He was about to get one. Big-time.
“Hey there, lover.” Lauren rested her hands on her stomach. “I’m absolutely starving. Are you ready for lunch?”
Six
Damn it all.
Jason stepped back from Celia so her hand fell from his arm—something he’d been a second away from doing, anyway, right before Lauren walked into his office. What was she even doing here? And to make matters worse, Brock stood just behind her, scowling.
What rotten timing all the way around. Celia had stopped by his office to ask if he was going out for drinks after work, and he’d been preparing the words to clear the air between them when the door had opened.
He needed to do some damage control ASAP.
Lauren stepped farther into the office, her green eyes flashing like kryptonite, ready to take down Clark Kent. Her loose-fitting teal-colored dress swirled around her legs, brushing against her curves. The woman was total sensual confidence. She thrust out her hand—her left one—engagement ring glinting. “I’m Lauren Presley, Jason’s fiancée just in from New York. We’re getting married tonight.”
“Married?” Celia squeaked.
“Tonight?” Jason needed air because keeping up with the surprises Lauren dished his way was an Olympic sport.
Brock cocked an eyebrow and leaned deeper into the doorway for a front-row seat.
Lauren breezed up to Jason’s desk and hooked her arm in his. “I know an elopement is supposed to be a secret. Sorry for spilling the beans, honey, but I’m just so darn excited. We’re catching a hop to Vegas. Hokey, I know, but, well—” she caressed her stomach “—it’s obvious we don’t have a whole lot of time to plan unless I want to get married wearing a tent.”
Brock stuffed his hands into his pockets, his face inscrutable. “We all had no idea. Congratulations.”
Jason adjusted his tie. “Thank you.”
Lauren smiled apologetically. “Blame me for that secrecy part, Mr. Maddox. I tend to be very private about my social