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.

Her voice went flat, the disbelief evident. “A little while?”

“It’s a routine matter,” said Reed, vowing to wrap the discussion up quickly.

She nodded. “Of course.”

“Why don’t you work on the catering menu while I’m gone?” Three hundred guests were invited to the upcoming party; there had to be a million details that required her attention.

“Sure,” she said, without enthusiasm. “I’ll study the dessert menu for a while.”

The sarcastic remark was unlike Elizabeth, and Reed knew he should ask her what was wrong. But he was afraid to get into it, afraid it might lead him to embrace her, to kiss her, to throw all of his good intentions out the window. There was only so much temptation a man could take.

“I’ll see you in an hour,” he said huskily instead, allowing himself one quick, chaste kiss on her forehead.

His hand brushed her hair, sending tingles of desire all the way up to his shoulder. Her fingers closed over his wrist for the briefest of moments. It was enough to make him question his decision to leave.

But he had to walk out. He’d promised himself he’d do everything in his power to give her a baby. And he would.

Without meeting her eyes, he turned for the door, marched down the hall to where Collin hovered beside the desk, a decidedly uncertain expression on his face.

“Let’s go,” said Reed, slipping into his suit jacket and leading the way to the penthouse door.

Collin didn’t ask any questions. Discretion was one of the things Reed liked best about the man.

“I’ve got the SEC letter,” Collin confirmed as the door closed behind them, and they headed for Gage Lattimer’s penthouse. Collin’s friend, Gage, had also been named in the SEC’s letter as being part of the investigation.