Prognosis Irreconcilable Differences Read online

  Maybe it was his lowered resistance, but watching her as she admired the view he couldn’t help but think she looked good here. Which was a stupid thought.

  Pointless.

  She was here for such a short time, and then she’d be gone. Here to play her part and then disappear, with their signatures on a dry legal document.

  But he couldn’t deny the unsettling feeling he’d had of late that something was missing from his life. Back at Jacqui’s house, having Shep around again, he’d thought maybe it was animal companionship he’d been lacking. But now, having Jacqui here, he wasn’t so sure. Maybe it was her? Or at least a woman to share his life with.

  Her shape called him from across the room. Even after years of not seeing her, her body was as familiar to him as his own, and his fingers curled into his palms in primal recognition. From her height, to the rich glory of her russet curls, to the strength of the muscles in her arms, thighs, calves and stomach — every detail was imprinted into his fingertips.

  Silhouetted like this, he could see the angle of her shoulder blades, the arc of her spine, the curve of her waist, the dip of her back, the rise of her bottom. He remembered those places vividly despite the years. He remembered how she liked to be kissed, where she liked to be touched, and how she sounded when she came apart in his arms.

  In fact, there wasn’t anything he didn’t remember. And, flu or not, he wanted to touch her again so badly desire sucker-punched him hard in the solar plexus and fogged his vision. He grabbed the back of a chair, his fingers biting into the fabric as he fought for control.

  He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected to feel such a potent rekindling of the lust that had enthralled him in the earlier years, blinded him to their differences. Sure, he’d expected to feel some attraction — Jacqui was still a damn fine-looking woman — but he’d thought it would be gentler, mellowed somehow, more nostalgic.

  Not like this. This powerful surge of possession that had him in its grip. This urge to brand her as his own again if only for a few weeks. He’d fooled himself into thinking he could see her again, and have some faux platonic reconciliation and it would all be terribly civilised. But he wasn’t feeling remotely civilised at the moment. He was feeling very, very primal.

  He blinked to dissipate the haze of longing, and took a deep breath before releasing his grip on the chair and moving towards her with sudden clarity. ‘I’ll put your bag in the master bedroom.’

  Jacqui had felt his presence behind her long before he’d spoken. She didn’t turn around. ‘You don’t have to give up your bed for me.’ Her warm breath fogged the glass.

  Nathan kept his voice deliberately neutral. ‘I’m not.’

  It took a beat or two for his meaning to become clear. She turned slowly, her heart skittering madly in her chest like the gait of a new-born foal. ‘I’m not sharing a bed with you.’

  Nathan felt his own pulse-rate kick up a notch as she bathed him in her unwavering toffee gaze. ‘What did you think reconciliation meant, Jacqueline?’

  Jacqui clenched her hands. ‘Not that — and you know it.’

  ‘It’s necessary.’

  ‘I beg to differ.’

  Nathan moved closer, crowding her towards the glass. This near he could smell her skin, hear the not so steady timbre of her breath. She swallowed, and his attention was drawn to the length of her neck. He raised his hand and placed two fingers on the pulse at the base of her throat. It fluttered madly at his touch and her pupils dilated.

  He smiled. ‘Are you afraid, Jacqueline?’

  Her heart thundered through her chest and reverberated in her head. She could feel it pulse against his fingers.

  ‘Of you?’

  Nathan shook his head. ‘Of wanting things. Wanting to get back a little of the old magic.’

  Jacqui fought for control while the air in her lungs stuttered to a halt. They had been soooo good.

  Damn him. If he thought he could play her, that she was still the old, easy Jacqueline who could deny him nothing, then he was wrong. She raised an eyebrow with as much indifference as she could muster, and forced a cool smile to her lips.

  ‘I think you’re transferring, Nate.’

  He chuckled, and then sobered, the pads of his fingers stroking light circles around the pulse beneath them. ‘I think you want this as much as I do.’

  His overwhelming certainty and the intoxication of his body heat pinned her to the glass, and she was grateful for its frostiness. God, he smelt so good.

  She shrugged, desperate for control. ‘Denial is good for the soul.’

  Nathan snorted. He didn’t believe in any of that Zen hippy claptrap. And her body, her mouth, was so close. One more step and he’d be pressed against all that yielding feminine warmth. Blood was rushing everywhere. His temples pounded, his skin burned, his groin tightened.

  ‘We’re adults, Jacqui. Technically still married. And we’re sharing an apartment, pretending to be reconciled. It’s a natural step.’

  Jacqui shut her eyes against his hushed seductive tones. He might as well have been the serpent himself. Her eyes fluttered open. Had he moved closer?

  ‘Isn’t that taking the charade a little too far?’

  Nathan shrugged. ‘It’ll be more authentic if we’re really lovers again.’

  It sounded so reasonable when he said it like that but no. No, no, no. She shut her eyes again, blocking out the curve of his sexy mouth. She’d be stupid to travel down this path. It had taken years for her to walk away last time, despite knowing they weren’t good for each other.

  Nathan Trent just wasn’t a guy you left.

  She opened her eyes. ‘I can do authentic.’

  Nathan shook his head. ‘No. At the moment your eyes say...’ He slid his palms up her neck slowly, cupping her face. His thumbs applied gentle pressure beneath her chin, tilting her head back slightly. He inspected her gaze for a long, lingering moment. ‘Reluctantly reconciled. But if I do this...’

  He stopped for few seconds, searched her gaze for resistance, and then lowered his head. His intention was to stroke, tease, tantalise and then stop. But the second her lips touched his all his good intentions were swept away on a tidal wave of lust, and he opened his mouth, greedy for more, welcoming the maelstrom.

  Her moan tickled his lips, and he sucked in a harsh breath through his nose, inhaling her taste, absorbing her flavour, wanting more. He pushed her back hard against the glass, imprisoning her with his body, revelling in the feel of her around him infusing his senses.

  He stroked her neck, plundered her mouth as if they’d never been apart. God, he’d missed this. Her mouth was sweet, and it fitted his just right. Her tongue was stroking his and her hands were twisted in his hair, her bangles cool against his face, her breasts squashed into his chest.

  Just like old times.

  Dangerous. Very dangerous waters. He had much to achieve in the next few years, and letting himself be seduced back into the past wasn’t on the agenda. This kiss was merely trying to prove a point. It took all his willpower to wrench his lips from hers.

  Jacqueline gasped, and mewed at his departure — she couldn’t help it. The noise had been dragged from her as he deprived her of his mouth. Their breathing was loud in the silence between them, ragged with unfinished business. She couldn’t think, couldn’t talk. She could barely see.

  Nathan placed his forehead against hers, fighting for control of his breath, his pulse. Her warm brown gaze had turned molten with undiluted desire. He placed his hands on either side of her face and looked deeply into her eyes.

  ‘Now they say reconciled and loving it.’

  Jacqueline closed her eyes, fighting to regain control of her breathing. She placed a hand over his and gently removed it. She pushed off the glass and stepped away from him on shaky legs.

  ‘Forget it. I’m not sleeping with you, Nate.’

  It was his turn to press his face to the glass, cooling his fevered brow. ‘Your body tells me a different story
.’

  Jacqueline gave a harsh laugh, suddenly feeling as cold as the sheet glass deep in her chest. She felt for a nearby chair and sank into its plush leather depths. ‘Lucky for me my brain doesn’t reside in my pants, then.’

  Nathan felt too destabilised to give a snappy comeback, or even defend his sex. He turned to face her. ‘Jacq—’

  ‘No, Nate.’ She shook her head vigorously and held out her hand to ward him off as he reached for her. ‘I’m here. And I’ll play my role. But this reconciliation is only an act. If you kiss me again like that I’m leaving. Debt or no debt. Divorce or no divorce.’

  Nathan watched as her heated gaze hardened. He’d seen that look before and knew it brooked no argument. ‘If you insist.’

  Jacqui nodded and stood. ‘Thank you.’

  Nathan watched her back as she moved away from him. ‘We are going to need to be convincing.’

  His voice pulled her up short, and she gave a soft snort as she twisted to face him. ‘Oh, I’ll be convincing.’

  He didn’t move as she turned away, slowly retreating. And despite her earlier warning a worm of naked lust trilled through him at the promise in her words.

  Surprisingly, Jacqueline slept like a baby in Nathan’s guestroom’s king-sized bed. One night up with a sick horse followed by two more up with a sick naked man, had taken their toll. Not even the memory of that steamy kiss, burnt as indelibly into her lips as the memory of him into her DNA, was enough to keep her awake.

  It was, however, the first thing she thought about when she woke the next morning. She stretched, and sighed at the futility of her erotic reminiscence as the luxury of the eight-hundred-thread-count sheets caressed her skin. He could kiss her like that every minute of every day, do that thing he did in bed that sent her into the stratosphere, and it still wouldn’t erase the fundamental differences in their lifestyles.

  They were walking a different path now.

  Maybe she’d been kidding herself that they’d ever walked side by side?

  Jacqueline arose, pulling on her gown, and wandered out to the lounge area, her stomach growling. She padded into the kitchen to find a note propped against a chrome wire fruit basket laden with fat red apples. Nathan’s bold, slashing hieroglyphs — as if he had scored the paper with a sword dipped in ink — stood stark against the thick quality stationery.

  Fresh croissants on the table. Dinner at 7:30. Nathan.

  Jacqui picked it up and ran her fingertips over the commanding strokes of black print. The card felt opulent in her grasp, rich and plush, and she remembered with fondness the smutty notes he’d used to leave her anchored on the fridge door via a cheap magnet souvenir from a pharmaceutical rep.

  Except he’d signed those, ‘Nate’. And there’d always been ‘X’s and ‘O’s.

  For a crazy second she held the note to her nose and inhaled. But then her stomach growled, and another scent called to her.

  She found the croissants through smell alone. The fluffy pastry melted on her tongue. Damn the man for remembering her weakness for flaky breakfast treats! It reminded her of their honeymoon in Paris at a seedy hostel, and of how very far away she currently lived from any kind of patisserie.

  She was shocked to discover it was ten o’clock when she’d eaten her fill. She stood at the huge glassed wall, looking across at the panoramic display of multimillion-dollar, multi-storey coastal real estate and the magnificent ocean vista.

  She supposed she should have been impressed, but the day stretched ahead of her. A whole day with nothing to do but think about Nate and that kiss.

  No, no, no.

  She would not let him monopolise her thoughts. She’d proved over the last ten years that she could push him to the outer, and she would not let sentiment and hormones hijack her Zen-like attitude to their failed relationship.

  Fifteen minutes later the cloud-like lift had delivered her to the foyer, and she walked the short distance to wriggle her toes in the warm sand of Surfers Paradise beach. A brisk stroll restored some equilibrium to her being. She and Shep walked on the beach every morning at home, and she was grateful that Nate’s address allowed her to be near the regenerating calm of the ocean.

  The pounding of the surf was like music to her suddenly troubled soul, and she lingered on the beach, letting the water lap her ankles. Far out beyond the bobbing heads of eager swimmers a row of surfers waited for the next big wave. Scantily clad sunbathers lazed about, despite the bite of the blazing morning sun. Children squealed as the waves caught them unawares, and lovers took full advantage of bare skin.

  It was paradise.

  The broad arc of perfect white powdery sand was breathtaking. The high-rise skyline, as much a part of the vista before her as the beach, was somehow almost beautiful in its grandness, the landscape somehow co-existing peacefully with the sun and the surf.

  A breeze blew her hair behind her, and even the knowledge that it would be tangled beyond belief wasn’t enough to make her secure it. There was just something about the sea breeze on her scalp that was enriching and, despite her russet colouring and tendency to freckle, Jacqueline raised her face to the ball of solar energy above in silent worship.

  ‘Thought I’d find you here.’

  Jacqui allowed her eyes to slowly drift open and focus on the man beside her. He was in a business shirt and tie, his trousers rolled up, his jacket slung over one arm and his shoes held in the opposite hand. He should have looked like a pimple on a pumpkin, and yet somehow he managed to look as if he belonged here.

  Poseidon risen from the sea in the guise of a modern-day businessman. He certainly out-manned every other male on the beach.

  A dangerous observation with the memory of his kiss still fluttering through her mind like the tail of a kite in a fresh breeze. Her heart thudded a little harder.

  ‘Interesting beachwear.’

  Nathan shrugged. ‘When in Rome.’

  Jacqui studied the horizon for a few moments, then the waves lapping at her feet, excruciatingly aware of the occasional brush of Nathan’s shirt against her bare arm. Her earlier sense of calm was disappearing fast.

  ‘Did you want something, Nathan?’ she prompted.

  ‘I forgot to mention that tonight is quite dressy.’ He dragged his gaze from the ocean and juggled his shoes while he reached into his jacket. He pulled out his credit card and passed it to her. ‘Buy yourself something amazing.’

  Jacqui looked at the piece of plastic he was pushing at her, and then up into his face as a cold hand gripped her heart. She felt as if every system in her body had just ground to a crashing halt.

  ‘Why is it that I feel like Julia Roberts to your Richard Gere?’

  Nathan rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t be melodramatic, Jacqui. It’s a prop, that’s all. I’m asking you to go out and buy a very expensive prop. I don’t expect you to pay for it.’

  Jacqui sucked in a deep breath. In through her nose, out through her mouth. In through her nose, out through her mouth. She’d been back in his world for less than twenty-four hours and he was already making her nuts. First a kiss, then an insult.

  She pushed his hand away, searching for some of that Zen. ‘I’m going to pretend we didn’t have this conversation. We’re on the beach and the sun’s shining and it’s a beautiful day.’ She shut her eyes and took another cleansing breath.

  ‘Abigail will be dressed to kill.’

  Jacqui opened her eyes, assessing the cool jade chips in his flinty gaze as she pinned him with one of her own. ‘So will I.’

  A brush against her leg distracted her from the sudden heat in his eyes and the flare of his pupils, and she looked down. A small child clung to her calf for dear life. She swayed and tottered, trying to find purchase in the shallows as the outbound waves eroded the sand from beneath her feet, before finally landing with a hard plonk on her bottom.

  She started to cry. ‘Hey, there, baby girl,’ Jacqueline crooned, crouching beside the chubby toddler.

  She looked around for a
concerned mother, and when none seemed to be forthcoming picked her up to comfort her. She was wearing navy bikini pants with frills adorning the seat, and a matching sun shirt. A floppy yellow hat, the rim wet, completed the picture.

  The little girl grasped Jacqueline’s arm, her pouty lips turned down, her forehead crinkled, her blue eyes full of fat tears. Her whole face, from the strawberry-blonde fringe plastered to her forehead to her dimpled chin, was a picture of such tragic wounded toddlerhood it was hard not to laugh.

  She looked at Jacqui, and then at Nathan, and pointed a fat sandy finger at him.

  ‘I know,’ Jacqui soothed, swaying slightly. ‘It’s all his fault, isn’t it?’

  ‘Hey,’ Nathan protested.

  The little girl stopped crying then, and just as abruptly shot him a gappy smile.

  Nathan laughed. ‘Still have a way with the babes.’

  Jacqueline would have rolled her eyes, had she been capable. But her heart had banged to a halt for a brief second as the familiar ache roared to life with a brutal stab.

  ‘Where’s your mummy?’ Nathan asked, looking around. He could see a harried young woman looking around frantically further down the beach, and he waved at her to attract her attention.

  It was easier to do that than watch the way the toddler’s hand squished into Jacqui’s breast. Or see the way she looked so at home with a child on her hip. Or the sudden stricken look in her eyes as she stared down into the toddler’s face.

  ‘Oh, thank you! I’m so sorry,’ the woman apologised, whisking the toddler out of Jacqui’s arms and squeezing the child to her in a boa-constrictor-like embrace. ‘She’s so quick these days.’

  Nathan smiled and waited for Jacqui to say something, but she was looking kind of dazed. ‘No problem,’ he assured her.

  Jacqueline watched their retreat, unable to move, barely able to breathe, already bereft at the loss of contact with the chubby baby hands. The little girl waggled her pudgy fingers, and Jacqui couldn’t drag her gaze away as the yellow hat disappeared into the crowd.