Christmas at the Castello(16)

Something low and heavy stirred in his gut. He had tried so hard to put  this woman out of his head. And still she tied him in knots.

"Give us fifteen minutes," he murmured to Lucie, the cook.         

     



 

Snaring the bottle of nonalcoholic champagne he'd chilled from the  refrigerator, he took two glasses from the cupboard and joined Diana on  the deck.

The fading light cast his wife in a golden glow as he came to stand  beside her at the railing. "Is your nausea anything to worry about?"

She turned to face him, her dark lashes fanning down over her cheeks in  a wary look that said the fight was not over. "It should settle down in  a few weeks."

"You've lost weight. Isn't that hard on the baby?"

She shook her head. "Lots of women lose weight in the first trimester.  I'll gain it back quickly when the pregnancy accelerates."

He caught the agitated gleam that flared in her eyes. "You're nervous."

"Of course I'm nervous. In nine months, maybe less, I'm going to be  bringing a new life into the world. A child that is totally dependent on  me for everything, every minute, every hour of the day."

"Us," he corrected, setting the bottle and glasses on the table beside  him. "We are having this child. You aren't alone in this, Diana."

"I love how men say that," she mocked. "You aren't the ones carrying  the baby. You aren't the ones suffering the debilitating nausea and you  aren't the ones sleep deprived from getting up in the night."

"Because we can't," he pointed out. "But there is such a thing as a bottle and we can take turns."

Her gaze skimmed over his perfectly pressed shirt. "I can just see it  now. You walking the living room floor at two in the morning with the  baby draped over your shoulder as you rehearse your presentation for the  next day."

He lifted a shoulder. "I will."

"Right. And when you start leaving zeros out of numbers and cost the company millions it'll still be all good."

He scowled. "Now you're being ridiculous. This goes to the issue of control and you hating the fact that you're losing it."

She waved her arms around them. "And what is this? What would your slick tongue call this? Persuasion?"

"Reason," he returned with a sigh. "I thought the afternoon might have put you in a better mood."

"What? Lounging in the sea and sun is supposed to make me forget you've kidnapped me to make me see your way?"

He elected not to answer that, instead picking up the champagne and  uncorking it. She flicked a glance at the bottle. "I can't have any of  that. Another joy of being the one carrying this baby. At least if I  could drink, I could tolerate you."

"This is nonalcoholic."

"What are we celebrating? You forcing me into captivity?"

He lifted his gaze to hers. "We created a baby together that night at  my apartment. I thought it was time we acknowledged the fact."

The husky edge to his voice caught him off guard. He kept his eyes on  hers, his words hanging on the air between them like a challenge-a  statement he dared her to refute. She stared at him for a long moment as  if deciding which way to go. Finally, she inclined her head. "It  is...something to celebrate."

He handed her a glass of the bubbly. "I'm glad we agree on that."

She touched her glass to his and took a sip. He took a mouthful of his  own and pointed his glass at her. "Have you come to a decision?"

"Yes." A closed, impenetrable expression passed across her face. "I  agree it would be better for us to bring this child up together. If we  can remain civil with each other. I agree we need to learn to understand  each other better in order to do that. But I have ground rules."

His gaze narrowed. "What kind of ground rules?"

"The only way I will agree to do this is if we do it on a strictly  contractual basis. We will be together for the sole reason of raising  this child. We will behave amicably toward each other, but there will be  no sex."

A wave of incredulity swept through him. "You expect us to remain married but not have sex?"         

     



 

"Exactly like that." Her mouth curved as she echoed his favorite expression.

It took him a moment to find a response to that, it was so...ludicrous.  "I think," he replied slowly, "that you are forgetting it was you as  much as me initiating our sexual encounters."

"Not anymore." She lifted her delicate, stubborn chin. "I refuse to  engage in emotional warfare with you, Coburn. I've had a lifetime of it  already. If we're going to raise this child together without creating a  war zone, we need neutral ground."

"So in other words you're being a coward."

"No, I'm being smart. A self-preservationist. We both know how you can  rip me apart with the easiest of efforts. You did it that night at your  apartment. That's what started all this. So now we take it out of the  equation."

"Let's just be clear here," he countered, his tone edged with a warning note. "You started it that night. Not me."

"Funny how you learn from your mistakes."

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the railing.  "So I'm supposed to be in a marriage with no physical gratification.  How do you think that's going to work?"

"You were the one giving the lectures on self-sacrifice. Or was that just you talking and me listening?"

He thought about how she had taken him apart inside earlier with that  kiss he hadn't allowed himself the night their baby was conceived. How,  in using that as a weapon against her, he had allowed her to penetrate  his defenses. He may be as on board as her about avoiding emotional  entanglement, but sex wasn't something he could do without.

"All right," he said quietly, holding her defiant gaze. "We play it  your way until you decide you want to change the rules. And when that  happens, I will be acquiescent in your hands, sweetheart, because I will  be way overdue."

Antagonism flecked her smoky gaze. "I will not change the rules,  Coburn. I'm the one who stayed away for a year. I'm the one who filed  the divorce papers, remember? I have willpower."

"Do you?" He closed the distance between them until they were mere  centimeters apart. Her breath fanned across his cheek, quickened when he  dragged his thumb over the pulse point at the base of her throat. "I  don't see the point in denying ourselves the very potent physical  connection we share."

"I do," she said grimly, holding herself perfectly still under his touch. "I've told you my conditions."

He brought his mouth to the shell of her ear. Felt the tremor that went  through her. "Why? What is it you need to hide so badly from me? What  hurt is buried so deep inside of you, you can't let me near it?"

She pressed a hand to his chest and stepped back, a glitter in her eyes  that said he'd struck a nerve. "How about we reverse that? How about we  go upstairs right now, strip down and while we do it, you tell me why  you run from everything? Why you hate family get-togethers with your  mother so much? Why you and Harrison are always at each other's throats?  Why bicycling in the Alps is preferable to getting to know my family so  you might not hate each other?"

His mouth curled. "You read too much into things, Diana. My mother is a  cold fish of the highest order. Your parents hated me from the start,  so why should I bother? And my brother and I are close again, thank you  for asking." He lifted a brow. "Does that cover it all?"

"Not even close," she breathed. "So hating my parents means you won't be there to support me?"

"Did you support me? About half of the gossip columns in New York  predicted the demise of our marriage before it happened because you were  never by my side. I had a wife who was a mirage."

"You had a wife who was a resident. A resident, Coburn. The doctor who  does everything and more because we aren't senior enough to do anything  but take it." Her eyes glittered like black diamonds. "I was exhausted, I  could hardly put a foot in front of one another, and you kept pushing,  pushing me until I cracked. All you had to do was wait five years, five  years, and things would have leveled out. But your ego, your desire for  attention, couldn't do it."         

     



 

He clenched his hand tight around his glass. "If you mean my ego  couldn't handle being put second to your job every single time, then  yes, that's true. You shut down when you work, Diana. You put every  single bit of emotional energy you have into your patients, and when you  get home, there's nothing left for me." He waved a hand at her. "Men  are simple creatures. Throw us a bone every once in a while and we're  good. But you didn't even have that for me."

The color drained from her face. She looked pale, so very pale standing  there in front of him. It made his guts twist. But this was a necessary  conversation, long, long overdue.