Reunited for the Billionaire's Legacy: Christmas at the Castello (bonus novella)

by Jennifer Hayward

  Her gaze met his. “Let me go.”

  He uncurled his fingers from around her wrist but kept his palm to her back. His earthy, spicy scent from his morning run filled her head, reminding her of far too many hot, sweaty encounters with the man who held her. She took it as a warning, channeling a Zen place she didn’t even remotely feel as she curved her fingers into his powerful biceps for balance.

  She stood on her toes, pressed her lips to his firm, beautiful mouth in a light pressure that was in no way threatening, then pulled back.

  “There.”

  Amusement glittered in his eyes. “Try a real kiss, Diana.”

  She swallowed the urge to claw his eyes out instead. He was such a bastard. He wouldn’t kiss her that night in his bed, but now she was supposed to kiss him without emotion?

  She took a deep breath and focused on the sensuous curve of his mouth that had always fascinated her. A man with a mouth made for kissing had been her initial impression of him, and it hadn’t steered her wrong. Coburn loved to kiss. He used to make out with her for the better part of an evening when they’d worked together on the sofa, before finally carrying her to bed. That was why when he’d refused to kiss her that night, it had felt like a total and complete rejection of everything she was...

  Blanking her mind to the low, tight pain that tugged at her insides, she caught his lower lip between her teeth and tugged. It might have been a bit more punishment than pleasure, but he played along, opening up for her. She slid her mouth against his, this time in a caress meant to stimulate. His hand pressed firmer against her back as he gathered her into him, returning the kiss with a steady pressure that signaled his complete acquiescence. She stiffened at the contact, because wasn’t she supposed to be the one in control here? But then again a kiss involved two people, so she had to be okay with that.

  Except then the weight of his solid, thickly muscled thigh moved between hers, the power of his corded muscles far too stimulating...

  A few more seconds, she told herself, not about to be the one to cut this off so he could accuse her of reneging on their deal. She cupped his jaw in her fingers and dragged her mouth across the sexy contours of his, taking back control of the kiss. He felt like heaven, that was the problem. The soft, seductive, expert caress he gave back was one only Coburn knew how to give, as if he had all the time in the world to seduce her. It was everything she’d wanted when he’d taken her that night in his apartment, every bit of reassurance she’d craved that he was as much under her spell as she was under his.

  It shattered her. Sucked her into a maelstrom of emotion she didn’t want to feel—memories of how very good they had been together when it had just been them worshipping how they made each other feel. How nothing could touch her when she was in Coburn’s arms because he was a part of her.

  His palm at her back urged her closer into the V of his hard thighs. Deeper and harder the kiss went. When he urged her lips apart with the pressure of his and his tongue sought hers, she moved toward him, sliding her tongue along his in an unhurried, erotic movement she knew he liked. A shudder went through his big body. “That’s it, baby,” he murmured. “More.”

  A shiver rocked through her. The way she could make him feel made her feel a little too invincible. Soothed the raw edges he’d left the night he’d set out to prove he didn’t care. Because it made him a liar as much as her.

  She fitted her hips to his and rocked against his blatant arousal. The feel of him rubbing against her through the thin barrier of her silk robe sent a bolt of electricity to her toes. The taste of him, that essence that was distinctly Coburn, captivated her, enticed her on, his low growl into her mouth as he palmed her buttocks and held her still pulling a whimper from her throat.

  The sound brought her crashing back to reality. She tore her mouth from his and flattened a palm against his chest. “No.”

  He let her go. As if he’d made his point. Her gaze landed on his lust-infused blue one. On the rise and fall of his chest as he struggled to get his reactions under control. She bit back the confusion raging through her, threatening to bubble out of her, but it was too late. The satisfaction glittering in his eyes told her he already knew.

  “You see,” he rasped, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, “that is what I am talking about. When you crawl inside of me and it’s so real it’s like you are inside of me, Diana. Tell me you will share that with someone else... Tell me you think it can get better.”

  She couldn’t. She could not deny it when she felt so lost.

  “Take me home,” she said quietly. “We can work this out, but take me home.”

  “No.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression hard and implacable. “This is where we learn to sacrifice for the greater good. We leave our selfishness at the door and give our child the future he or she deserves. And the first step of making that happen is learning to understand each other because we clearly never did.”

  She stared at him, knowing on some level he was right, but afraid to admit it. Afraid what this might mean for her sanity to try again with Coburn...

  His mouth flattened at her continued silence. “I’ve had clothes put in your closet, including a bathing suit. I suggest you put one on while you think about doing the right thing. I have some cooling off to do.”

  Her gaze dropped to his rampant masculinity straining against the confines of his shorts. It should have made her feel better to know he’d been as caught up in that as she had. Instead, she felt confused and on the verge of tears. She swallowed the feeling of helplessness that invaded her as she watched him walk away, so familiar and yet such a stranger to her now.

  Her mind was too full to think, the late-morning sun already so hot the silk robe was sticking to her body like a glove. She wanted to thumb her nose at Coburn, to protest by going to her room and staying there, but the thought of being inside instead of on the breezy beach was intolerable. It seemed there was no way out of here.

  She put on one of the bikinis hanging in the closet in her room, grabbed a protein shake from the well-stocked refrigerator in the kitchen and went down to the beach. A perfect stretch of golden sand stretched in front of the cottage, bounded by two high cliffs that rose in a dramatic collage of crashing waves, sparkling sun and rough-hewn rock. It was a view that must have cost its owner millions.

  She wondered what Arthur Kent would think if he knew Coburn was holding her prisoner here. Would he care? Or would he bow down to the Grant influence as everyone else on this godforsaken earth did?

  Frustration seared her bones. She stalked past Coburn, who was just a blip in the turquoise water, his powerful arms cutting a path through the sea far out in the breakers. Who did he think he was? He could not do this to her. And yet he was.

  She kept walking until she reached the end of the cove. Stowing her empty protein shake on a rock, she went for a dip in the sea. The warm water slipped over her limbs like a silken gift from heaven. Something like sanity returned as she flipped over on her back and floated on the waves. She stayed there for a long time, her negative emotions draining away with the lull of the surf and the sun.

  A villa sat perched on top of the cliff, sparkling in the sunlight, looking so ethereal surrounded by the clouds it brought to mind a house of the gods straddling the earth and heavens. Did it belong to Arthur Kent? It certainly would be the view she’d choose.

  Perhaps Coburn would introduce her to their hosts when they returned on the weekend. If she hadn’t found a way to do smoke signals and get herself rescued before then...

  Her mouth curved. At last finding something amusing about her intolerable situation, she pulled herself out of the water and went to sit on a big rock to dry off. Leaning back on her palms, she contemplated the endless horizon of blue. Allowed herself to consider what Coburn was proposing. She couldn’t deny reconciling with him and bringing up their ba
by together would provide the optimal environment for their child. Studies had shown that children were better off in families with parents who stayed together as long as the situation between the couple was on a reasonably agreeable footing. What changed that prognosis was when the relationship became toxic; when the environment was more harmful to the child’s well-being than beneficial. Then a couple was better off separating.

  She thought about what Beth had said about her and Coburn. That sometimes the most passionate relationships were the ones that burned out the brightest because of the intensity of the emotion involved. It was so true for them. They had never had a middle ground. It had always been highs and lows: one minute they were completely wrapped up in each other, the next they were at each other’s throats.

  Because they had refused to compromise. Coburn had been right about that. They had both been too selfish, too wrapped up in their own desires to want to give.

  She closed her eyes against the brilliant power of the sun. As altruistic as she’d like to believe her work, as much as she hadn’t had any choice in the crazy hours her residency had demanded, she had a choice now. Surgeons had families. They made it work. Yes, having a baby put a dent in your career. No matter what the Pollyanna types liked to say, motherhood slowed your ascent up the ladder. She’d heard male doctors make comments in the surgeon’s lounge about dilettante mothers who didn’t take their careers seriously. There was a stigma about it in the still-chauvinistic surgical community.

  But none of this changed the fact that she was pregnant now. She either brought this child up with Coburn in a loveless marriage based on sex or they negotiated joint custody and passed the child back and forth like a tennis match.

  She grimaced. Neither sounded appealing. To live with Coburn knowing he would never love her the way he once had would tear her heart out. Treating her child like a pawn in their separate agendas seemed equally distressing. Unless she found a way to control her feelings. Unless, she expanded in an “aha” moment, she took her emotions out of the equation. Which would by definition mean no sex. Just a convenient partnership to bring up their child.

  Not what Coburn had been envisioning, surely, by his speech on the plane. But the only way she could play this without ending up a victim of her feelings was to negate them.

  She thought about what she’d said to him. About marrying again... Thought about how completely he had owned her just now when she had kissed him. There would never be a man like that for her again. He was right. You came across that once in a lifetime if you were lucky. She’d had her turn.

  What clinched it for her finally was Coburn’s statement about giving their child a better emotional base than he’d had. She wanted that. She wanted her baby to grow up with parents who cared about his or her emotional well-being—parents who didn’t treat their offspring like a chess piece in the game of marriage. Parents who cared about more than what grades the child brought home or what school he or she got into.

  Her eyes fluttered closed. In that, she and Coburn were united. Not a bad thing to devote your marriage to.

  When the sun got too hot to take, she stood up and brushed the sand from her limbs. For the first time in a week since her doctor had uttered those momentous three words, she had clarity as she walked back along the beach. Her husband might not like her plan, but that was all that was on offer. He could take it or leave it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  AS THE SUN dipped into the sea in a spectacular orange and crimson ending to a brutally hot day and the scents of the island descended over the cottage in a dozen different perfumes that stroked the senses, Coburn was just about to tell the cook his wife was feeling unwell and ask if she would take a tray up to her room when Diana appeared on the deck overlooking the water.

  She had changed into one of the filmy, understated dresses Arthur Kent’s PA had left in her room for her, the fuchsia silk dress embroidered with tiny white flowers making her look delicate and untouchable. His eyes narrowed on her ultraslim figure. The dress was too big for her even though it was her usual size. She had lost weight. She had not been well, and that needed to stop for the sake of their baby. She would listen to reason.

  He watched as she walked to the railing that overlooked the rolling waves and rested her elbows on the edge. Her back was ramrod straight, the haughty tilt of her head at a fighting angle. Was it that much of a bitter pill to come back to him for the sake of this baby? Was being with him that distasteful?

  His lips compressed into a tight line as he clenched his hands by his sides. Until she’d left him in a move he could never have anticipated, he had always thought his rocky road with Diana would level out. That these were the hard years with them where they were finding their way and they would learn to compromise. He had been in a state of shock when she’d left, if the truth were to be known. He had expected her to come back to him as she always did when they fought, when she gave in to the inevitability that was them. But days had grown into weeks, and when he had finally called to end the standoff, she’d refused to speak to him.

  His mouth curled in a grimace. His naïveté was staggering. The belief that if you loved someone enough you could overcome the differences that had ultimately pushed you oceans apart.

  Something low and heavy stirred in his gut. He had tried so hard to put this woman out of his head. And still she tied him in knots.

  “Give us fifteen minutes,” he murmured to Lucie, the cook.

  Snaring the bottle of nonalcoholic champagne he’d chilled from the refrigerator, he took two glasses from the cupboard and joined Diana on the deck.

  The fading light cast his wife in a golden glow as he came to stand beside her at the railing. “Is your nausea anything to worry about?”

  She turned to face him, her dark lashes fanning down over her cheeks in a wary look that said the fight was not over. “It should settle down in a few weeks.”

  “You’ve lost weight. Isn’t that hard on the baby?”

  She shook her head. “Lots of women lose weight in the first trimester. I’ll gain it back quickly when the pregnancy accelerates.”

  He caught the agitated gleam that flared in her eyes. “You’re nervous.”

  “Of course I’m nervous. In nine months, maybe less, I’m going to be bringing a new life into the world. A child that is totally dependent on me for everything, every minute, every hour of the day.”

  “Us,” he corrected, setting the bottle and glasses on the table beside him. “We are having this child. You aren’t alone in this, Diana.”

  “I love how men say that,” she mocked. “You aren’t the ones carrying the baby. You aren’t the ones suffering the debilitating nausea and you aren’t the ones sleep deprived from getting up in the night.”

  “Because we can’t,” he pointed out. “But there is such a thing as a bottle and we can take turns.”

  Her gaze skimmed over his perfectly pressed shirt. “I can just see it now. You walking the living room floor at two in the morning with the baby draped over your shoulder as you rehearse your presentation for the next day.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “I will.”

  “Right. And when you start leaving zeros out of numbers and cost the company millions it’ll still be all good.”

  He scowled. “Now you’re being ridiculous. This goes to the issue of control and you hating the fact that you’re losing it.”

  She waved her arms around them. “And what is this? What would your slick tongue call this? Persuasion?”

  “Reason,” he returned with a sigh. “I thought the afternoon might have put you in a better mood.”

  “What? Lounging in the sea and sun is supposed to make me forget you’ve kidnapped me to make me see your way?”

  He elected not to answer that, instead picking up the champagne and uncorking it. She flicked a glance at the bottle. “I can�
��t have any of that. Another joy of being the one carrying this baby. At least if I could drink, I could tolerate you.”

  “This is nonalcoholic.”

  “What are we celebrating? You forcing me into captivity?”

  He lifted his gaze to hers. “We created a baby together that night at my apartment. I thought it was time we acknowledged the fact.”

  The husky edge to his voice caught him off guard. He kept his eyes on hers, his words hanging on the air between them like a challenge—a statement he dared her to refute. She stared at him for a long moment as if deciding which way to go. Finally, she inclined her head. “It is...something to celebrate.”

  He handed her a glass of the bubbly. “I’m glad we agree on that.”

  She touched her glass to his and took a sip. He took a mouthful of his own and pointed his glass at her. “Have you come to a decision?”

  “Yes.” A closed, impenetrable expression passed across her face. “I agree it would be better for us to bring this child up together. If we can remain civil with each other. I agree we need to learn to understand each other better in order to do that. But I have ground rules.”

  His gaze narrowed. “What kind of ground rules?”

  “The only way I will agree to do this is if we do it on a strictly contractual basis. We will be together for the sole reason of raising this child. We will behave amicably toward each other, but there will be no sex.”

  A wave of incredulity swept through him. “You expect us to remain married but not have sex?”

  “Exactly like that.” Her mouth curved as she echoed his favorite expression.

  It took him a moment to find a response to that, it was so...ludicrous. “I think,” he replied slowly, “that you are forgetting it was you as much as me initiating our sexual encounters.”