“Bad day?”
He nodded, releasing her to strip off his jacket. “We’re announcing the recall next week. The allocation of blame, the messaging around it, it’s been brutal. Everyone wants someone’s head on a platter.”
She took his jacket. “That can’t be easy.”
His eyes glittered with frustration. “I want to get out in front of this. Accept responsibility and help the victim’s families. Find a solution to the problem so it doesn’t become a systemic part of our processes. But the more time we waste arguing over the semantics, the longer it’s taking us to attack the issues.”
Her mouth curved in a wry smile. “Sounds like hospital politics. But who could want you to not take responsibility? That seems like Crisis Communications 101 to me.”
“The board wants to minimize our culpability. Share the blame.”
“But aren’t Grant parts responsible for the brake failures?”
“We’re ninety-nine percent sure they are.”
“Then, doing the right thing is never the wrong thing.”
“My critics think we can do both.” He dug his fingers into his tie and loosened the knot. “How was your day?”
“Scintillating,” she said drily. “I worked out, went for lunch with Beth, then shopped for dinner. The highlight was a half hour spent picking out which wine to serve with the steak.”
His gaze raked her face. “Diana—”
“Stop.” She cut him off softly. “I was being facetious. I’m good.”
He gave her a long look. “I need to change.”
“Go.”
She finished prepping dinner. She wanted to tell Coburn about her chance meeting with Frank Moritz that afternoon and his earth-shattering offer so badly, it was eating a hole in her brain. But now was definitely not the time.
Frankie and Harrison arrived. Vivacious and beautiful Frankie was a perfect foil for Harrison’s serious, dark demeanor. Diana had always been a little cautious around Coburn’s brother in the past, finding him moody and stern. But he seemed to have loosened up since he’d met Frankie; this version of the presidential candidate one she liked very much.
If she’d been anticipating a hostile response from her brother-in-law for walking out on Coburn a year ago, she didn’t get it. Harrison wasn’t overly warm—warily accepting was more like it. As if he was leaving it up to her and Coburn to figure it out.
They sat down to dinner. Conversation flowed smoothly and easily as they chatted about Harrison’s campaign and how the numbers were looking. It was early days yet, but he was holding up well against his competitors, leading even in some states.
It did her soul good to see the burgeoning relationship between Coburn and his brother. They were easier with each other now, genuine, with none of the tension she’d used to witness between them. What wasn’t so easy for her to watch was the open adoration on Harrison’s face when he looked at his five-months-pregnant wife. It was how Coburn had used to look at her. Uncaring of who witnessed it, proud.
It did something to the tension already clenching her stomach from her emotional seesaw of a day. Tightened her inner muscles like a vise until it was hard to force the delicious steak past it.
She escaped gratefully to the kitchen with the dishes when they were done with the main course. Coburn followed her, setting a stack on the counter. He watched as she loaded them into the dishwasher.
“Olga can do those tomorrow.”
“I thought I’d get them out of the way.”
He stepped closer, lifting her chin with his fingers. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She gave him a bright look.
“If it’s the work stuff...”
“It’s not the work stuff.”
“Then, what is it?”
Her emotions spiraled, swirled through the air as they gained momentum in the emotional storm sweeping over her.
I need to know if you still love me. I need to know I’m not about to sacrifice the opportunity of a lifetime for you for this to fail. To end up just like my mother...
She set her jaw, refusing to give in to the forces that wanted to destroy the fragile hope she’d been building. “I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”
He stepped in close, bending his head to bring his mouth to her ear. “I know a good tension reliever I happen to have a specialty in.”
His husky, fatigue-deepened voice wove its usual magic around her senses. She leaned back against the counter. “Sex doesn’t solve everything, Coburn.”
He lifted a brow. “So there is something bothering you.”
“I’m tired,” she reiterated, pressing a palm to his chest to move him out of the way. “I need to serve dessert.”
He stepped back, his frown telling her it wasn’t the end of it. Frankie paused halfway into the kitchen, her gaze darting from Coburn to her. “Sorry, was just going to get some more mineral water.”
Diana retrieved the bottle from the refrigerator. Coburn rejoined Harrison at the table while Frankie helped her serve dessert. When the two men had gone off to talk Grant business in the living room over a brandy, Diana and Frankie took their tea out onto the deck.
“I seriously miss my wine.” Frankie sighed, curling up in one of the lounge chairs. “I’ll be happy when I can have a glass again.”
“Me, too.” Although she could use more than a glass right now to help her unwind.
“Are you going to go back to work until the baby comes?” Frankie asked.
She lowered herself into the chair beside her. “I was going to until this recall happened. Now I think Coburn needs me by his side. My job is an all-consuming kind of thing.”
“I think it’s great that you’ve been here for him.” Frankie shook her head. “He needs the support. I’ve never seen things get so ugly with the board. The pressure on him is immense.”
“It’s been a bit of a ride.”
Frankie was quiet for a long moment. Then she turned her striking blue-gray gaze on Diana. “He’s been different since you two have been back together. And by that I mean settled, grounded. Even with the insane amount of pressure he’s been under, he has a peace about him he hasn’t had since I came to work for him. It’s you, Diana.”
Her gaze slipped away from Frankie’s, heat stinging the back of her eyes. It felt as if she and Coburn were rebuilding an amazing bond. Yet held up against Frankie and Harrison, who were so perfectly matched, it still felt wanting.
She’d once thought she and Coburn were the perfect missing pieces for each other. He lightened her up when she got too serious. She grounded him. Until the ways they were alike, their twin ambitions they couldn’t temper, had torn them apart.
She blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. She wanted all of her husband back. Not just the parts he chose to share. So badly her heart ached with it.
Harrison and Frankie left shortly after that. Coburn went off to deal with a few emails before bed while she stowed the rest of the dishes in the kitchen, then took a hot shower.
The punishing spray helped temper her emotions. She dried off and slid a nightshirt over her head. Attempted to channel a Zen she didn’t feel. But the minute Coburn walked into the room, her shoulders rose to her ears. His expression said his patience level with her was about a two out of ten. Hers was hovering right around there.
He slid his gaze over the nightshirt. “I thought we decided that was going in the garbage.”
“You decided that.” She walked past him, headed for the bottle of body lotion on the dresser. He snagged an arm around her and hauled her into him. “We also decided your hot-and-cold routine was finished.”
“I wasn’t aware my choice of night clothing fell into that category.”
He made a sound at the back of his throat. She pushed at his arm, but he sat down and hauled her onto his lap instead. “That kind of behavior is going to get you spanked.”
The threat would usually have turned her on. Tonight it made her want to scratch his eyes out. She fixed her gaze on his. “Let me go, Coburn. Tonight is not the night to push me.”
He raked his gaze over her face. “Why? You were in a perfectly good mood when I got home.”
“I would still be in a good mood if you could accept the fact I just don’t want your hands on me right now.”
His mouth thinned. She watched the loss of control happen in his eyes before he flipped her onto her back on the bed and came down on top of her. “I would spank you,” he breathed, pinning her hands above her head, “but that won’t help me figure out what’s going on in your head.”
She fought against his hold, the tears stinging her eyes reaching a critical mass. “Goddamn you, Coburn, let me go. I’m not in the mood for this.”
“Tell me what’s wrong and I will.”
She called him the filthiest word she could come up with. He brought his mouth down on hers and kissed her. A hard, brutal punishment meant to command. She fought him for as long as she had it in her, her knee driving up against him ineffectually, her body twisting beneath his. Then she unraveled.
Sobs rose in her throat. Her hands came up to push against his face. Coburn lifted his mouth from hers and stared down at her. Hot tears slid down her cheeks. She hated herself for it, for this show of weakness. But her defenses were long gone, annihilated by his persistent seduction that had knocked down each and every one of her barriers.