Christmas at the Castello(21)

     



 

Her head knew what she had to do. Now she just had to get her heart to agree.





  CHAPTER TEN

COBURN WAS TRUE to his word. For three days and three nights he did not  touch her, goad her or push her to discuss anything more pertinent than  the weather and what they were going to do that day. They interacted  like polite acquaintances who happened to have an intimate knowledge of  every inch of each other they kept tightly in check as they explored the  island by boat and foot.

When they'd had enough of the ever-present baking heat, they headed for  the crystal clear water and the coral reefs that surrounded the island.  Diana could have spent days there swimming with the schools of brightly  colored fish, avoiding her problems. And yet, funnily enough, by  letting her mind go and relaxing, clarity came instead.

Her life had been irrevocably changed when she and Coburn had conceived  this baby. She had to give them a second chance. A chance to forgive  each other their transgressions, as Coburn had said, and perhaps find  some level of happiness.

A clammy feeling attacked her appendages as she sat lounging by the  pool with a book on yet another stunning Caribbean day while her husband  worked in the office. She was terrified. A powerful voice inside her  couldn't help pointing out the parallels with her mother and father's  relationship. It would only ever be Coburn for her. Did her weakness for  a womanizer like her husband make her as much a victim of the cult of  Coburn as her mother was for her father?

The realist in her knew she was risking her heart. The optimist was  sure her husband felt more for her than he was willing to admit and they  could build on that.

Coburn finally made an appearance as the late-afternoon shadows chased  each other across the surface of the pool. He wore the same distracted,  aloof look he'd sported for days now, this new foreign version of her  husband that eluded her attempts to reach him. Always with Coburn there  had been emotion, whether positive or negative throughout their  roller-coaster highs and lows. He was an extrovert, a man who needed to  express himself as much as she needed to crawl inside herself at times.

She swam toward the edge of the pool and clutched the side, studying the tension etched in his face.

"I thought you were going to be in there all day."

"I'm sorry. There's a lot going on." His gaze singed her skin as it  moved over her curves in the coral bikini. "You're burning."

She looked down at her shoulders. They were a bit pink. Coburn offered  her a hand and pulled her out of the pool. She bit her lip as he wrapped  a towel around her. "You could share, you know."

"I won't distract you from the choices you need to make."

She lifted her chin to look up at him. "I'm willing to give this a  shot, Coburn. I'm willing for us to give this a shot. But this is it. We  make it work this time or we walk away. I grew up in a war zone between  my father and mother, and I won't put a child through that."

The tense line of his mouth slackened. "And you are going to let me in? Trust me?"

She nodded. "I am committed to making this work. But I won't give up my  job. A huge issue in our relationship was not being able to give for  the other person's needs. I want to be there for my child, but I'm not  prepared to put my career on hold until they're in school. My skills  would never recover from it."

A war went on in that dark blue gaze of his. "Nonnegotiable," she underscored.

"You don't trust me. You don't trust us."

"It's not about trust. It's about my identity, what I love doing. I need to practice."

He tucked the towel tight around her and let go. "All right. We  compromise." His gaze held hers. "We've screwed up a lot of things,  Diana, but I promise you we will not screw this up. It's too important."

Their marriage had been important, too. She forced herself to nod  before the panic rising up in her throat enveloped her. "I know."         

     



 

He inclined his head. "Arthur is back. He's invited us to dinner tonight with some friends. Are you up for it?"

Her mouth curved. "So you'll let me loose now that I've fallen into line?"

He moved his gaze over her. "I'd prefer to indulge myself on a whole  other level and forget the socializing entirely. But since Arthur is a  good friend, it will have to wait."



Her insides were still vibrating from her husband's clear indication of  exactly where their relationship was going in short order as Diana  dressed for dinner with the Kents. She didn't know why she was so  nervous to embark on a physical relationship with Coburn again. She'd  done it that night at his apartment when they'd conceived their child.  But this time it was about walking into it with her heart open. Fully  invested. She felt as if she was twenty miles out in that sea sparkling  outside her window and being told to swim for her life.

She pressed clammy palms to the soft, clingy fabric of her dress. Its  sea-blue color reminded her of her husband's eyes-rich and endlessly  fascinating.

Coburn was waiting for her on the terrace when she arrived,  ridiculously handsome in a white shirt and dark trousers. His eyes as  they ate her up suggested her nerves were highly warranted. Measuring,  calculating, they swept over every curve of her body in the sexy dress,  lingering on the swell of her newfound cleavage with an uncensored  appreciation that made her knees wobbly.

Her steps slowed as she approached him, hesitation written in every line of her body.

His gaze moved back up to her face. Cataloged what he found there. "You look...devastating."

She swallowed past the dryness in her throat. "Thank you."

The polite response her mother had taught her to issue upon receiving a  compliment rather than stammering out a quick denial as many of her  teenage friends had came out stiff and unnatural. Coburn's brow rose. He  took the last couple of steps toward her, his fingers curving around  her jaw as his other hand settled on her waist and pulled her close.

"I'm getting the feeling my ever-poised wife is nervous."

"Hardly," she denied, her reply coming out a bit too breathless for her liking.

His fingers slid to the hollow of her nape. "I thought we were going  for honesty here. If I was being honest I'd say that blowing off dinner  to make love to my very beautiful wife is highly tempting."

Her insides dissolved into a pool of molten heat. "Coburn-"

He dropped his mouth to her ear. "The only question would be how and  where I would do that. I'd be willing to explore more than one option."

She put a hand to his chest and leaned away from him, her head and  heart full of way too much everything. "But we are going to dinner. It  would be rude not to."

His gaze studied her face. "Yes we are. But first I'm going to kiss my wife."

Her heart sped up in her chest. The hand she had pressed against his  torso couldn't decide whether it wanted to keep him at a distance or  allow him closer. He took the decision out of her hands, splaying both  palms across her jaw to hold her in place while he brought his mouth  down to nudge hers apart. She froze, her lips immobile against his. It  was like walking into a tsunami with your eyes wide-open. She wasn't  sure she could do it.

His fingers tightened around her jaw. "Open your mouth," he demanded. "Let me in."

The war went on in her head, the battle between her two selves loud and  chaotic. And then she couldn't fight it anymore. Her lips softened  beneath his. He took them in a deep, drugging kiss that swept away all  conscious thought except for the intoxicating, deliciously male scent of  him, the tall, strong length of his body that brushed hers  tantalizingly close, but not nearly close enough. His taste, his touch  was achingly familiar and yet different somehow. As if the exceedingly  tough, driven man he'd become had seeped into every part of him, and  even his kiss couldn't help but be affected by it.

She drank him in, relearned every contour of his sensual, beautiful mouth.         

     



 

He murmured her name, his voice a velvety caress that slid across her  sun-warmed skin. His hands shifted lower to her hips to drag her against  him. She moved into him, luxuriating in the press of his strong,  muscular thighs against her. Only with Coburn could a kiss be this  soulful.

His hands moved over her buttocks, shaping her against him. Froze. "You have nothing on underneath this dress?"

Heat flared in her already warm skin. "It's impossible with it."

He brought her chin up with the tips of his fingers, the heated shimmer  in his eyes making her insides quiver. "It wasn't a complaint," he  drawled softly. "Knowledge is power. Or pleasure, in your case..."

She bit down hard on her lip. How could she forget what he did with  such knowledge? A dinner party on a steamy night in Manhattan filled her  head. Coburn had just been back from a business trip to Germany. He'd  touched down, driven home and changed, just in time to walk out the door  with her to a cocktail party. Intensely sexual in nature, her husband  had spent the evening trying to keep his hands off her, but a week away  from each other had taken its toll. She had excused herself to use the  powder room when Coburn had discreetly followed her, slipped in after  her and locked the door. He had taken her against the wall, swift and  hard, his raspy voice in her ear telling her how much he'd missed her.  How he had pleasured himself thinking about her in his big, lonely hotel  room.