Elle turned to look at the caring woman. “Yes, I am. The doctor says it’s fine. I haven’t had any spotting. The ultrasound looked good. Some physical activity will be good for me.”
“Mr. Maddox won’t like it,” she said.
“Yes, well, he would just as soon see me wrapped in a cocoon until my due date. That’s not going to happen,” Elle said firmly.
“I can’t say I blame you, but you really did give us a scare. If Mr. Maddox should ask where you are, what should I tell him?”
Elle smiled. “Tell him I’m shopping for a shorter robe.”
The housekeeper chuckled. “Good for you. Let me call Roger. He can drive you.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary at all,” Elle protested.
The housekeeper shook her head. “Mr. Maddox would want you to go with a driver. It won’t take but a moment.”
Elle cooled her heels, then stepped into the town car and directed Roger to take her to an outlet.
“Outlet?” Roger echoed as if it were a foreign word. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go downtown? That’s where the senior Mrs. Maddox always goes.”
“No, I love Nordstrom’s Rack,” she said, settling back in her seat.
Roger let her out at the front door and Elle walked into the busy store. She wandered through the lingerie section, admiring the silk gowns. She would be too large for them soon enough, she thought, sliding her hand over her belly. Finding a rack of robes, she flipped through the selection and pulled out a red one. “You’ll look like a giant, mutant cherry,” she muttered to herself.
Her cell phone rang and she saw Brock’s number on her caller ID. Wincing, she answered. “Hello?”
“What are you doing at Nordstrom’s Rack?”
“Buying a short robe,” she said. “I assume your spies informed you?”
“Roger told me you insisted on going to an outlet,” Brock said. “I can afford to get you a robe and anything else you need, for God’s sake. You don’t have to watch your pennies. And you sure as hell don’t need to be shopping at outlets.”
“But I like shopping in outlets. It’s like hunting is for men. Bagging the one with the biggest rack in one shot.”
Silence followed. “I’ve never heard it described that way.”
“Well, I’m glad to know I’ve provided you with a new analogy,” she said. “Maybe you can use it for a campaign.”
“Hmm. That’s not a bad idea.”
“Shh. Better not tell me. I’m the enemy,” she couldn’t help saying.
Brock gave a heavy sigh. “You’re not the enemy.”
“Bet you’d never let me in the office again,” she said.
“Sure I would,” he said. “Just not right away. Dinner at home?” he asked, clearly changing the subject.
“If we must,” she said.
“You hate it there,” he concluded.
“It’s so—” she searched for the right word “—full.”
“I know,” he said. “Maybe we could get rid of some of the clutter.”
“How do you think your mother would feel about that?”
“It’s possible she wouldn’t even notice.”
Elle snorted, then tried to cough to cover it. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, start with one room downstairs. Take it over and redo it the way you want. Put the old stuff in storage.”
Elle felt a trickle of excitement. “This might work.”
“Of course it will work,” he said. “It was my suggestion.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re so arrogant.”
“That never stopped you before,” he said.
She sucked in a quick breath. “No,” she whispered. “It didn’t.”
“What do your want for dinner tonight?”
What she wanted more than anything was a quiet dinner in Brock’s apartment at the office. But she knew that wasn’t possible. He wouldn’t let her near the office yet. She felt a deep sense of loss. They’d shared so many private memories there. “I’d like some good old American cooking tonight,” she said, thinking of one of the few places they’d actually gone to together—a diner with a delicious defiance against the carb-hating trend of the day.
“Mashed potatoes,” he said, and she heard the smile in his voice. “The Four Square Diner. Don’t spend too much time at the outlets. I’ll call later to firm up a time,” he said and hung up.
Elle glanced at the sexy leopard-printed sheath hanging on the end of the rack. She wondered if she would ever be able to inspire Brock’s primal urges again.