Christmas at the Castello(3)

"You mean the one about being over a smart mouth and a great body?" His  mouth twisted. "Really, Di, that could have been about anyone.  Although," he conceded, raking his gaze over her lithe body and small,  high breasts, "it certainly does ring true in your case."

His bald-faced lie had her clenching her free hand at her side. "You're  still a bastard, Coburn Grant. That hasn't changed, either."

"Sorry, no." He watched as his perusal elicited the agitated response  it always did in her, turning the rosy hue in her skin a dark red and  sending the pulse at the base of her neck fluttering. "You could have  avoided it by showing up at our meeting tomorrow and not among my  closest circle of friends."

She exhaled on a long sigh. "You won't have to worry about me being around much longer. You can have New York all to yourself."

His gaze sharpened on her face. "What does that mean?"

"I'm leaving in three and a half weeks to join Doctors Without Borders in Africa."

"Africa? What about the job you are so in love with you couldn't find time for me?"

"I left." Her chin rose, gaze tangling with his. "I decided our divorce was the perfect opportunity to wipe the slate clean."

He studied the mutinous set of her full mouth. "You left your job?"

"Yes."

He was unprepared for the searing pain that sliced through him. Now  when they were about to end their marriage with two signatures on a  piece of paper she'd done the one thing that might have saved them.  "Why?" he bit out, his hand clenching tight around his champagne glass.  "Don't tell me...you needed to find yourself."

Her chin lifted another notch. "Something like that."

He was at a true loss as to where to go with that information. All he'd  ever wanted was for them to have time to devote to each other. For her  to act like his true partner. But she'd never allowed it. She had  refused to pull back on her grueling schedule, which had once seen her  home only two days in a month as a resident, claiming it would impact  her career.

"Forgive me," he said finally, "if the whole idea of this confounds me at this particular moment."

Her long lashes fanned over her pale cheeks. "It's time one of us grew  up, Coburn. And since that clearly isn't going to be you with your  floozy-a-week love life, I guess it has to be me."         

     



 

He absorbed the insult like a boxer taking a misguided, poorly aimed  punch. "You never could get past them could you, Di? What was history  never was for you."

She opened her eyes, an amber glint firing amid a mahogany canvas.  "Hard when it was thrown in my face every second minute. Why do you  think I stopped attending parties with you? Who could stomach knowing  that half the women in the room had had my husband?"

"You mentioned that before," he countered, enjoying the fact he was  getting to her. "A complete exaggeration I'll tell you once again. You  made me a mythological figure in your head, Di. None of it bore anything  close to reality."

"It's hard to separate the fool's gold from the real thing," she  scoffed. "I suppose you will have to tone it down now that you are  lording it as CEO. Are you sure your ego can handle all the power?"

"It's in fine shape," he murmured on a low warning as he bent his head  to her. "And thank you for the sincere congratulations on my promotion."

She moistened her lips as he impaled her with his gaze. His  satisfaction at how he still got to her knew no bounds. "Perhaps we  should continue this discussion somewhere else? Rather than hijacking  the happy occasion any more than we already have?"

"I-I don't think that's a good idea." Her gaze dropped to the skin  exposed by his unbuttoned shirt. "I should go anyway. I have a ton of  things to do before I leave."

He closed his hand around her slim wrist. "I disagree," he countered in  a silky-soft tone. "This is a discussion we should have had twelve  months ago. Why not have it now before you run off to prove to your  father you have a mind of your own?"

"And you." The words tumbled out of her mouth before she censored herself.

He watched dismay cloud them. "Yes, Di," he bit out. "Exactly that."

Ebony eyes bound to blue. Emotion, something he couldn't remember  seeing in her for the last interminably painful year they'd spent  together, flared in the eyes staring back at him. It made something  elemental fire inside him. This was his chance to scratch beneath the  surface of his wife. And although that was the last thing he should be  doing the night before they ended their relationship with a resoundingly  civilized divorce settlement, it was a temptation his white-hot  curiosity couldn't resist.

"We're leaving," he muttered, wrapping his fingers firmer around her wrist and pulling her toward the French doors.

She tugged on his arm. "You're making a scene."

"Not as much as we've made already." He directed her toward their hosts  and the happy couple to say their goodbyes. Eyes followed them as they  went, sending regret lancing through him. Tonight had once again proved  his wife brought out the worst in him. It was time to put an end to it  once and for all-an end that had nothing to do with paperwork.





  CHAPTER TWO

DIANA TOOK THE glass of water her husband handed to her, closing her  shaky fingers tight around the tumbler so he wouldn't see how nervous  she was. The tension that had been screaming through her ever since  she'd entered Coburn's beautifully decorated bachelor pad just a couple  of blocks from the party was threatening to annihilate her composure.

She walked out onto the glazed concrete terrace while Coburn found a  bottle of wine. The large open space with its comfortable lounge  furniture scattered throughout was easily as big as the square footage  of his trendy penthouse apartment on the top floor of the Chelsea  low-rise-casual elegance that reflected her husband's free-spirited need  to be outdoors as much as possible.

Moving to the edge of the terrace that overlooked the tree-lined  street, elegant with its neat little brick buildings and wrought iron  fences, she rested her forearms on the railing. The hip neighborhood fit  her husband's persona to a T-notable, relaxed while still possessing  enough individuality that he wouldn't feel stifled as he had in their  impossibly expensive, old-money East Side co-op.         

     



 

A party was in full swing on the rooftop terrace of the building  opposite, the loud dance music carrying on the air to where she stood.  She set the glass down on the ledge before the water sloshed over the  side. Why had she let her husband railroad her into coming here? Hadn't  they said all they needed to say in that final blowout that had put any  of the ones before it to shame? Hadn't she walked out on him because  that night it had become crystal clear they weren't going to make it  together? That what they'd had had died and all they were doing was  torturing each other?

She closed her eyes. She could still feel the force of her husband's  anger blanketing her even now. He had walked in from a party just as she  had returned home from a shift at the hospital, the blood staining her  wrists she'd missed in her final scrub a testament to her exhaustion.  Coburn had been out for a fight from the minute he'd tossed his jacket  on a chair and she'd known it, known she should just retreat into the  shower and let him cool off. But his furious tirade had been off and  running by then. People were starting to talk about her continued  absence at social functions, he'd told her. Rumors were circulating  about the state of their marriage. Questioning whether they would  last... I've had enough of it, Di. Enough of this half-life with you.

She'd somehow found the energy to fight back because none of what he  was saying was fair. Just because her husband enjoyed giving his older  brother fits by taking off for a last-minute bicycle race in the French  Riviera didn't mean she had the same lack of loyalty to her job.  People's lives depended on her. She didn't get to choose when and how  long she was on duty. But Coburn in his stubborn arrogance had stated  there were other doctors in the city of Manhattan, and he needed her by  his side. Which had devolved into him suggesting she was using her work  to avoid him and their issues. Which might have had some truth to it.  But she had been too mad, too hurt to rein in her arsenal of similar  complaints about his irresponsible behavior. Where had he been the night  of the Taylor holiday party when she'd needed him by her side? Partying  in Cannes with friends...

They'd traded barbs until she literally couldn't stand on two feet  anymore, then she'd showered and spent the night in the spare bedroom.  The next day she'd moved into her parents' guest room until she could  find an apartment of her own. Coburn had been too angry to come after  her. Maybe all there was to be said had been said.