Christmas at the Castello(4)

Her father had gleefully offered an "I told you so" and beat Coburn's  shortcomings into her head until she was sufficiently brainwashed she  knew she would never go back. But in the spirit of her newfound brutally  honest outlook on life, as painful as it might be, she knew her father  couldn't be blamed for her and Coburn's split. They had needed no  assistance wrecking the good that they'd had.

The fact that Coburn had been with other women months after they'd  parted had been the final nail in the coffin. The part of her that had  held out hope they might work things out had died then.

The only mystery was why neither of them had filed the divorce papers  sooner. It had been she, after signing her contract to work abroad, who  had started the proceedings.

A chorus of excited giggles floated across the air to her as a group of  girls horsed around with two attractive males. You aren't fun anymore.  Coburn's words echoed through her head from that last night. What  happened to you?

She thought about it. Had she ever been fun? Being a resident was not  meant to be a joyride. It had been the most grueling five years of her  life, meant to separate the weak from the strong. Why couldn't her  husband have accepted the early years were going to be like that? That  it would change.

He joined her on the terrace then, as if she'd conjured him up to ask  just that question. But of course she hadn't. Not now when they were  about to make their relationship history.

She eyed the bottle of champagne in his hands. "What are we celebrating?"

His sensuous mouth curved in a humorless smile. "How about our incredibly civilized divorce?"         

     



 

Her mouth twisted. "Because the lawyers hashed out every clause for us."

"Your decision." His electric blue eyes lanced through her. "I was  willing to sit down and act like two reasonable human beings for an  hour. You for some reason were not. I'm very curious as to why that  might be."

She hadn't let herself wonder that. Perhaps because she didn't want to know the answer.

She watched the play of muscles in his forearms as he worked the cork  out of the bottle. Exposed by his rolled-up sleeves, they were one of  her favorite parts of him. Lean and muscular, he was all sinewy power  without an excess centimeter of flesh on him. Potently strong enough to  brace himself with as he flipped her from one sexual position to the  next...

The cork flew into the air with a decisive pop. It jerked her back to  reality. She couldn't be thinking things like that. Thoughts like that  had always gotten her into trouble when it came to Coburn. Because they  inevitably led to sex and their erotic, spectacular love life that had  become a crutch for their utterly dismal relationship skills.

Coburn filled two glasses and handed one to her, his gaze resting on  her heated cheeks. "Disconcerting, isn't it, probing at the real reasons  why we do the things we do? Maybe you were scared that one hour in a  boardroom would end up the way it always does with us... You would call  me a selfish son of a bitch and I would make you eat your words, one  orgasm at a time."

The heat in her cheeks darkened into a full-out fire. "Perhaps my choice was the wiser one, then?"

"Or the coward's way out."

Her chin lifted. "There's nothing wrong with a bit of self-realization.  In not repeating the same mistakes we've made in the past..."

"If you call that part of our relationship a mistake, yes." The glitter  in his gaze made her shift her weight to the other foot. Damn but this  had been a colossal mistake.

He lifted his glass, his gaze holding hers. "To self-realization, then.  And the dissolution of our hasty, ill-thought-out vows."

A throb dug itself deep into her flesh, somewhere in the region of her  heart. To hear him sum up their union  like that without  acknowledging the intense highs only they had offered each other didn't  seem right. "To greater self-realization," she echoed, lifting the glass  to her lips.

"What?" he murmured after he'd taken a sip. "You don't agree we were a hasty, ill-thought-out union     ?"

She turned her head to look at the revelers. "I think we were much more than that."

A silence fell between them. She felt his eyes on her, coolly  assessing. When she thought he might say something, she cut him off at  the pass. "I'm happy for Harrison. He'll make a fine president if he  wins."

"The country couldn't do any better."

"And Frankie. She's very beautiful." A cynical note entered her voice  as she referenced her husband's PA, who was married to his older  brother. "How did you let that one get away? She is so your type,  Coburn. Young and impressionable."

"And about to give up her career for her and Harrison's new addition to  the family." His mouth curled with a sardonic twist. "What a lucky man  he is... He married a woman who doesn't need to prove herself to the  world."

The dagger cut through her as cleanly as her own surgeon's scalpel.  "You never seemed to want babies, Coburn. If that was high on your list,  you should have mentioned it when you were cataloging my potential as  your wife. You knew with my residency it would be years."

A frown furrowed his brow. "There was no cataloging. We married before we had any idea who the other one was."

Her stomach knotted. "And you found me sorely lacking in any capacity other than the bedroom."

His gaze narrowed. "You liked to think that was the reason. Because  then you didn't have to work at it at all. You could just run off like  the spoiled little rich girl you were and cry to Daddy. There were no  repercussions."         

     



 

No repercussions? She'd spent the past year trying to bury herself in  her work because it was too painful to go home to an apartment that  didn't have Coburn in it. He really had no clue.

"You think I'm the only one who's unknowable?" she offered quietly. "I  could do an entire emotional autopsy on you, Coburn, and I would still  never get to the bottom of you. You play like you're so open and there,  but none of it is the real you."

His eyes glittered. "You have to give some to get some, Di."

Right. Here they were at the same old discussion. A waste of time.

"Why didn't you file for divorce? You were certainly anxious to move on and avail yourself of other female company."

He lifted a shoulder. "I don't plan to marry again so there was so  rush. And as for my sexual partners? My prerogative when you ended our  marriage. You know I have a high level of need."

A need that had apparently overwhelmed him within months of their marriage ending...

She lifted her gaze and watched the midnight blue sky streaked with a  swath of purple swallow up a lone star. Her insides hurt, like the  delicate, shaky aftermath of a horrible flu.

"How long will you be gone?"

Coburn was watching her with that all-seeing gaze of his. "Three months, maybe more. The need for surgeons is critical."

"What happened to your dream of working with Moritz?"

"I couldn't handle the politics." Swiss surgeon Frank Moritz was one of  the most revered pediatric surgeons in the world, a specialty she  wanted to make her own, but as Diana had found out, he was also one of  the biggest egos in the profession. She had impressed him enough to put  herself in line for the fellowship he was offering, but she hadn't been  able to force herself to do the schmoozing being Moritz's choice  entailed. It went against every belief she had that talent should  prevail.

He lifted a brow. "You knew that was going to be part of it."

"I didn't know it was going to color every aspect of it. The man is a megalomaniac."

"So you're just giving up your career?"

"No. I'm going to Africa to practice."

He waved his glass at her. "You know what I mean. You will be out of the loop. You'll have to start all over again."

"So be it." A wry smile curved her lips. "It's done, Coburn. I've sold my apartment and my car. I need to find my way."

He studied her as if she was a creature from a different species he'd  come into contact with. And maybe she was. She wasn't the same Diana  who'd walked away from him, that was for sure. She'd done far too much  soul-searching to be that.

"Don't you think it's a bit drastic to put yourself in the middle of a  war-torn country to find yourself? If it's me you're trying to avoid,  then move to another state. Move to another country, for God's sake. Not  a war zone."

She straightened her shoulders, her lips flattening into a stubborn  line. "This isn't about you, Coburn. Things aren't always about you,  although you like to think they are. This is about me and my need to  help other people with the skills I have."

His gaze narrowed on her. "You forget you admitted to me earlier part of this is you thumbing your nose at me."

Damn her loose mouth. She sunk her teeth into her lower lip. "That was a  knee-jerk reaction to an old wound. Nothing you say or do affects me  anymore."