Instead of amazing sex to cure his frustration, last night had been an emotionally complex coming together that had burrowed her under his skin that much deeper. She was getting to him exactly how she used to, and that couldn’t happen. Not when she’d taken his world apart piece by piece once before. Not when he’d never allow her to do it again.
His chest getting tighter with every moment, he slid out from under his sexy wife, threw on running clothes and headed for the door. A hard, pounding run in the sand helped until he stopped, an hour later, and his head was still in the same place. Confused. Muddy as hell.
Maybe part of the problem was that his wife had been a goddamned comic book hero last night, throwing herself onto a ledge above the ocean and saving a little boy’s life. It had hit him square in the face how much he’d underplayed the importance of her career. He couldn’t have saved that boy. He’d been standing there frozen like a useless idiot until she’d prompted him into action.
She had blown him away. But then again he’d always known his wife was exceptional. He’d loved Diana’s brain as much as he loved the rest of her. No one challenged him like her. No one.
He swiped his T-shirt across his dripping face and pulled in deep breaths as he walked it out to cool off. He needed to draw some lines. Needed to ensure he was in control of this marriage and not the other way around. Too much was riding on his performance as Grant CEO over the next six months to let himself fall back under Diana’s spell. He had exactly what he wanted—her agreement to make this a proper marriage for the sake of their child. Now he had to make it work for both of them. Which meant no false illusions on either of their parts. The all-consuming love they’d once shared had destroyed them. This iteration would involve common sense. Reality.
His mobile buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out, glanced at the display and held it to his ear. “David.”
“Sorry to intrude,” his chief operating officer apologized. “I have Reg on the line, too.”
His heart sank. Having his legal counsel on the line meant the recall had shifted from early rumblings into reality.
“How bad is it?”
“Bad,” Reg responded. “The amount of vehicles affected is in the tens of thousands. The class action suit involving those injured is in the hundreds. We are currently trying to qualify how many of those claims are substantial and what percentage are being motivated by the large sums of money being thrown around by the lawyers. Suffice it to say, this will be the largest recall we’ve ever been involved in.”
He closed his eyes against the nightmare unfolding on the phone. “How likely is it our parts were directly involved in the brake failures?”
“Very likely.”
His insides twisted into a hard knot. Five deaths had been associated with the faulty breaking systems; five deaths Grant’s hands were now stained with. He felt sick to his bones that his company was responsible for a loss of human life. Anger at his engineers for not catching it, at himself for not catching it. And a bone-deep fear at the challenges that lay ahead.
He was six months into this job. This was a massive recall. It felt blindingly unfair.
He raked a hand through his hair. “I’ll fly back tonight.”
“Good,” said his COO. “Sorry again to intrude.”
His brain was too full to move right away. He stood absorbing the brilliance of the day, the peace and serenity of the vista in front of him. It was like being transported from heaven to hell.
When he could no longer avoid reality, he turned and headed up to the cottage. Diana was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, nursing a cup of coffee. His body absorbed the sight of her long, bare legs in the short silk robe with the greedy recall of a man who’d lost himself in all that beauty the night before and wanted to do it again.
Her gaze moved over his face. “You look stressed.”
He held up his phone. “We need to fly back to New York tonight.”
Her face assumed that smooth, emotionless veneer he hated so much. “What’s going on?”
“Legal issues.”
“What kind of legal issues?”
“A recall.”
A frown creased her brow. “Oh. That’s not good.”
“No, it isn’t.” He put the phone on the counter, walked over to her and caged her in with his hands resting on the marble on both sides of her.
She lifted a wary dark gaze to his. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“There isn’t much to talk about until we find out more details.”
“I should get packed, then.”
“I doubt we’ll be able to get out before dinnertime. You can enjoy most of the day.”
Then it was back to reality. Back to the pressures that had torn them apart before. With only a fragile agreement in place between them. He didn’t like the thought of that at all, particularly because his wife’s lithe body had gone tense just inches from his, her chin set at a protective angle, the coolness of the past week back in her eyes.
A surge of frustration rocketed through him. He did not have the capacity to deal with her withdrawal, with her descent back into herself, not with the dark problems looming before him back in New York.
“You’re doing it again,” he said harshly. “Shoring up those walls around yourself. I won’t stand for it, Diana.”
A stormy hue entered her dark eyes. “And what are you doing? Refusing to talk?”
“I told you what the problem is. I can’t do anything until I know more.”
“Were people hurt?”
“Five people died.”
Her eyes widened. “This is what’s been bothering you since that phone call.”
“Yes.”
“Goddammit, Coburn, you have to talk to me about this stuff. It doesn’t just go one way. I can help. We can talk it through.”
“We are talking.”
“When I force it out of you. You’ve become this closed-off version of yourself. I don’t know how to reach you anymore.”
“What more do you want me to say when I know nothing?”
A flush filled her cheeks. “I want to know what this means for Grant. For you... How you are feeling about it.”
He swallowed past his frustration. “It’s the worst recall the company has ever faced. It could be crippling. I don’t know.”
The harsh light in her eyes softened. She set her coffee cup down and reached out to curl her fingers around his hand. “You don’t try to handle things like this on your own, Coburn, you confide in someone.”
The anger and frustration searing his throat made it hard to speak. He looked down at her delicate fingers curved around his. “It’s knowing I can never bring those people back that’s the worst. That their families have lost them forever because we made a mistake.”
She shook her head. “It was an accident. No one meant to hurt anyone. The only thing you can do is do right by their families. Fix the problem.”
The lump in his throat grew until it felt as if it was choking him, his guts churning like one of the very expensive engines he manufactured. He knew what it was like to have someone take away the person you loved the most when it should never have happened. Anton Markovic had done that when he had set his father up for suicide. He would make this right. He would shoulder responsibility for it. But right now he just wanted to bury his fear in the one thing that would make him feel better. That always had.
He studied the color that stained his wife’s throat and chest where her silk robe gaped open. She always got red there when she was aroused. He was aroused knowing what lay beneath the silk. Her full, engorged breasts added a whole new sexy dimension to her body he couldn’t stop thinking about. He wanted to see her. Devour her until she screamed as she had last night.
The pulse at the base of her neck throbbed. Her gaze met his as he lifted it to hers. “You are insatiable,” she breathed. “I’m trying to help.”
“You want to help?” He ran a finger from her throat down to the upper curve of her breast. “Take off the robe.”
Her gaze tangled with his. “If you promise you’ll keep talking to me.”
He slipped his thumb under the silk and found the soft, raised peak of one of her beautiful breasts. “I promise. Now take it off.”
Excitement flared in her beautiful eyes. She reached for the tie of her robe and pulled it open. His breath hissed from his lungs. She was perfection, her long slim limbs enhanced by the lush curves his child was giving to her. It did something indescribable to him.
He sank his hands into her waist and lifted her onto the counter, ignoring the voices in his head that told him to walk away. To avoid the temptation in front of him. Because every time he gave in to it, it consumed him more. Made him need her more. And he didn’t want to need her.
The need in him won.
He bent and took one of her nipples into his mouth while his fingers plumped her luscious flesh. She tasted of lemons and sweetness and he was lost before he’d even started.
She moaned and buried her fingers in his hair as he sucked hard on her. When her nipple was taut beneath his lips, he transferred his attention to the other peak, satisfying every bit of his craving. She arched beneath him, leaning back against the counter with a low moan.