To the Max Read Free Page A

and realization dawned. Oh God, the spell of sickness she’d experienced during the reception? Apparently it had nothing to do with the crowded yard or the cake. She’d reached a milestone—her dates were physically making her sick. Way to go.
    Max came closer and whispered, “Is this the guy?”
    She nodded and turned to Steven, who was obnoxiously grinning.
    “Ready to dance with the king of the night, darling?”
    He was now close enough that his sugary smell reached her. Nausea rose in her belly. Trying not to cringe, she took a step forward, frantic for an excuse.
    Suddenly, someone tugged her hand from behind. “Sorry, man,” Max apologized. “The prettiest girl in this wedding owes me a couple of dances, and I’m ready to collect.”
    Max twirled her and wound her in, winking. “Let’s give him a show,” he whispered. Before she could react, he wrapped one hand around her neck, the other around her waist. Exaggeratedly bending her backward, he placed his lips over hers.
    She hadn’t regained her breath or her bearings when he pulled her up for another spin.
    Oh God, too much movement.
    “I’m not feeling good,” she managed to get out. Then she leaned over and threw up all over Max’s shoes.
    * * * *
    “Okay, spit it out, Annie,” Holly prompted, tapping at the table. “I’m the dispatcher for the sheriff’s department. Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ve heard worse. Although, if memory serves, Ben switching teams on you was a DEFCON3 emergency. I truly have no clue what possible planetary disaster DEFCON1 could refer to.”
    Annie glanced around, making sure they were alone in the terrace. Then, trying not to hyperventilate, Annie uttered those two tiny words, the ones that had her freaked out of her ever-loving mind.
    Holly, Christy, and Sophie gaped at her, totally shocked. Thank God they’d been sitting; otherwise her friends’ behinds would have had very close encounters with the floor.
    “Definitely DEFCON1,” Christy mumbled and Sophie assented.
    “Pregnant? What do you mean pregnant?” Holly asked, stupefied.
    “Pregnant,” Annie choked out. “As in knocked up.”
    “How? When? Who?” Then, before Annie could answer, not that she was too eager to answer anyway, Holly continued, “Please don’t tell me it’s Steven’s.”
    At least there was that: a positive side of this whole mess she hadn’t thought of. “Eww. You nuts? I didn’t have sex with Steven.”
    Her friends let out a collective sigh of relief. “Thank God,” Holly muttered.
    Annie had been about to chide them for even thinking she’d had sex with Steven after just two dates, but she saw the irony in her predicament and decided to bite her tongue.
    “If it isn’t his, then…?” Christy asked, motioning with her hand for her to go on.
    Annie cleared her throat. “Remember the StudsRus.com gala a while back?” she said with a grimace. “The nice Italian escort I met there? Luigi?”
    Complete silence.
    Annie had attended the yearly gala in Christy’s place. The most prestigious escort agency in Boston had hosted it a month ago at the Ritz Carlton downtown. The girls had managed to buy an invitation for Christy’s birthday, after her vow to get professionally laid, but once Cole had heard about it, he’d put a damper to the whole plan. So they had drawn straws, and surprise, surprise, Annie had won.
    “You’re shitting us,” Sophie said.
    She shook her head. No, she wasn’t shitting them. She wished she were, but she wasn’t.
    It had been a great night. Magical, with all the candlelight, the unending flow of expensive champagne, and the great company. That it was a masquerade ball had also added an extra layer of magic and privacy that had been exhilarating.
    Apparently StudsRus.com’s escorts were highly sought after. They traveled all over the country accompanying clients, some of them very powerful people, to high-profile events. They were not only gorgeous; they were extremely well educated and