He hadn’t made that commitment lightly.
Frustration simmered inside him, threatening his focus as he read the Zhutov report from Salvatore. He’d given up his marriage for cases like this, so he’d damn well better succeed or he would have lost Jayne for nothing.
The world was better off with that bastard behind bars. Zhutov had masterminded one of the largest counterfeiting organizations in Eurasia. He’d used that influence to shift the balance of power between countries by manipulating the strength of a country’s currency. At a time when many regions were struggling for financial survival, the least dip in economics could be devastating.
And from all appearances, Zhutov had played his tricks out of an amoral need for power and a desire to advance his son’s political aspirations by any means possible.
Helping Interpol stop crooks like that was more than a job. It was a road to redemption after what Conrad had done in high school. He’d committed a crime not all that different from Zhutov’s and gotten off with a slap on the wrist. At the time he’d manipulated the stock market, he’d deluded himself into thinking he was some sort of dispenser of cosmic justice, stealing from the evil rich to give to the more deserving.
Utter crap.
At fifteen, he’d been old enough to know better. He’d understood the difference between right and wrong. But he’d been so caught up in his own selfish need to prove he was better than his crook of a father, he’d failed to take into account the workers and the families hurt in the process.
He might have avoided official prison time, but he still owed a debt. When Salvatore had retired as headmaster of North Carolina Military Prep and taken a job with Interpol, Conrad had been one of his first recruits. He’d worked a case cracking open an international insider trading scam.
The sound of the balcony door opening drew him back to the moment. He didn’t have to turn around. Jayne’s scent already drifted toward him. Her sea-breeze freshness, a natural air, brought the outdoors inside. She’d told him once she’d gotten out of the practice of wearing perfume as a nurse because scents disturbed some patients. And yes, he remembered most everything about her, such as how she usually slept like a log regardless of the time zone.
That she was restless now equaled progress. It was already past 2:00 a.m.
He shut down the file and switched to a computer game, still keeping his back to her.
“Conrad?” Her husky voice stoked his frustration higher, hotter. “What are you doing up so late?”
“Business.” The screen flashed with a burst of gunfire as his avatar fought back an ambush in Alpha Realms IV.
She laughed softly, stepping farther onto the balcony silently other than the swoosh of her silky robe against her legs. “So I see. New toy from your pal Troy Donavan?”
Conrad had the inside track on video games since a fellow felonious high school bud of his now ran a lucrative computer software corporation. “It’s my downtime, and I don’t even have to leave town. Did you need something?”
“I was getting a glass of water, and I saw you’re still awake. You always were a night owl.”
More than once she’d walked up behind him, slid her arms around his neck and offered to help him relax with a massage that always led to more.
“Feel free to have a seat.” He guided his avatar around a corner in dystopian city ruins. “But I can’t promise to be much of a conversationalist.”
“Keep playing your game.”
“Hmm…” Alpha Realms provided a safe distraction from the peripheral view of Jayne sliding onto the lounger. The way the silky robe clung to her shower-damp skin, she could have been naked.
Her legs crossed at the ankles, her fuzzy slippers dangling from her toes. “Why do you keep working when you could clearly retire?”
Because his fast-paced, wealthy lifestyle provided the perfect cover for him to move in the circles necessary to bring down crooks like Zhutov. “You knew I lived at the office when you married me.”
“I was like any woman crazy in love.” She cupped a water glass between her hands. “I deluded myself into believing I could change you.”
He hadn’t expected her to concede anything, much less that. He set aside his tablet, on top of those damn divorce papers. “I remember the first time I saw you.”
The patio sconce highlighted her smile. “You were one of the crankiest, most uncooperative emergency room patients I’d ever met.”
He’d been in Miami following up on a lead for Salvatore. Nothing hairy, just chasing a paper trail. He would have been back in Monte Carlo by morning, except a baggage handler at the airport dropped an overweight case on Conrad’s foot. Unable to bear weight on it even when he’d tried to grit through the pain, he’d ended up in the E.R. rather than on his charter jet. And he’d still protested the entire way.
Although his mood had taken a turn for the better once the head nurse on the night shift stepped into the waiting room to find out why he’d sent everyone else running. “I’m surprised you spoke to me after what an uncooperative bastard I was.”
“I still can’t believe you insisted you just wanted a walking boot, that you had an important meeting you couldn’t miss because of what you called a stubbed toe.”
“Yeah, not my shining moment.”
“Smart move sending flowers to the staff members you pissed off.” She scratched the corner of her mouth with her pinky. “I don’t believe I ever told you, but I thought they were for me when they arrived.”
“I wanted to win you over. Apologizing to your coworkers seemed the wisest course to take.” He’d extended his stay in Miami under the guise of looking into investment property.
They’d eloped three months later, in a simple ocean-side ceremony with a couple of his alumni buddies as witnesses.
Jayne sipped her water, her eyes unblinking as if she might be holding back tears. “So this is really it for us.”
“Nice to know this isn’t any easier for you than it is for me.”
Her hand shook as she set aside her glass. “Of course this isn’t easy for me. But I want it to be done. I want to move past this and be happy again.”
Damn, it really got under his skin that he still hurt her even after all this time apart.
“I’m sorry you’re unhappy.” Back when, he would have moved heaven and earth to give her what she wanted. Now it appeared all he could give her was a divorce.
“Do you really mean that?” She swung her feet to the side, sitting on the edge of the lounger. “Or is that why you held off signing the papers for so long? So you could see me squirm?”
“Honest to God, Jayne, I just want both of us to be happy, and if that means moving on, then okay.” Although she looked so damn right beside him, back in his life again. He would be haunted by the vision of her there for a long time to come. “But right now, neither of us seems to be having much luck with the concept of a clean break.”
“What are you saying?”
Persuading her would take a lot more savvy than sending a few dozen roses to her friends. “I think we need to take a couple of days to find that middle ground, peace or closure or whatever the hell therapists are calling it lately.”
“We’ve been married for seven years.” She fished into the pocket of her robe and pulled out her engagement ring and wedding band set. “How do you expect to find closure in two days when we’ve been trying for the last three years?”
He did not want to see those damn rings again. Not unless they were sitting where he’d put them—on her finger.
“Has ignoring each other worked for you? Because even living an ocean apart hasn’t gone so well for me.”
“You’ll get no argument from me.” Her fingers closed around the rings. “What exactly do you have in mind?”
He sensed victory within his sights. She was coming around to his way of thinking. But he had to be sure because if he miscalculated and moved too soon he could risk sending her running.
“I suggest we spend a si
mple night out together, no pressure. My old high school buddy Malcolm Douglas is performing nearby—in the Côte d’Azur—tomorrow night. I have tickets. Go with me.”
“What if I say no?”
Not an option. He played his trump card. “Do you want my signature on those divorce papers?”
She dropped her rings on top of the computer that just happened to be resting over the divorce papers. “Are you blackmailing me?”
“Call it a trade.” He rested his hand over the five-carat diamond he’d chosen for her, only her. “You give me two days and I’ll give you the divorce papers. Signed.”
“Just two days?” She studied him through narrowed, suspicious eyes.
He gathered up the rings and pressed them to her palm, closing her fingers over them again. “Forty-eight hours.”
Forty-eight hours to romance her back into his bed one last time.
Three
Gasping, Jayne sat upright in bed, jolted out of a deep sleep by…sunlight?
Bold morning rays streamed through the part in the curtains. Late morning, not a sunrise. She looked at the bedside clock: 10:32 a.m.? Shoving her tangled hair aside, she blinked and the time stayed the same.
Then changed to 10:33.
She never overslept and she never had trouble with jet lag, thanks to her early years in nursing working odd shifts in the emergency room. Except last night she’d had trouble falling asleep even after a long bubble bath. Restless, she’d been foolish enough to dance with temptation by talking to Conrad on a moonlit Mediterranean night.
He’d talked her into staying.
God, was she even ready to face him today with the memory of everything she’d said right there between them? The thought of him out there, a simple door away, had her so damn confused. She’d all but propositioned him, and he’d turned her down. She’d been so sure she would have to keep him at arm’s length she’d checked into the room on another floor. That seemed petty, and even egotistical, now.
He’d simply wanted the common courtesy of a face-to-face goodbye and he’d been willing to wait three years to get it. The least she could do was behave maturely now. She just had to get through the next forty-eight hours without making a fool of herself over this man again.
Throwing aside the covers, she stood and came face-to-face with her reflection in the mirror. A fright show stared back at her, showcased by the gold-leaf frame. With her tousled hair and dark circles under her eyes, she looked worse than after pulling back-to-back shifts in the E.R.
Pride demanded she shower and change before facing Conrad, who would undoubtedly look hot in whatever he wore. Even bed-head suited him quite well, damn him.
A bracing shower later, she tugged on her favorite black skinny jeans and a poet’s shirt belted at the waist, the best she could do with what little she had in her suitcase. But she’d expected to be traveling back to the States today, divorce papers in hand. At least she’d thought to change her flight and arrange for more time off before going to bed last night.
Nerves went wild in her chest as she opened the door. The sound of clanking silverware echoed down the hallway, the scent of coffee teasing her nose. He’d said they would spend two days finding peace with each other, but as she thought about facing him over breakfast, she felt anything but peaceful.
Still, she’d made a deal with him and she refused to let him see her shake in her shoes—or all but beg him for sex again.
Trailing her fingers down the chair railing in the hall, she made her way through the “man cave” living room and into the dining area. And oh, God, he’d swapped her elegant dining room set for the equivalent of an Irish pub table with a throne at the head. Really?
And where was the barbarian of the hour?
The table had been set for two, but he was nowhere to be seen. A rattle from the kitchen gave her only a second’s warning before a tea cart came rolling in, but not pushed by Conrad.
A strange woman she’d never met before pushed the cart containing a plate of pastries, a bowl of fruit and two steaming carafes. At the moment, food was the last thing on Jayne’s mind. Instead, at the top of the list was discovering the identity of this stranger. This beautiful redheaded stranger who looked very at ease in Conrad’s home, serving breakfast from a familiar tea cart that had somehow survived the “purge of Jayne” from the premises.
Jayne thrust out her hand. “Good morning. I’m Jayne Hughes, and you would be?”
Given the leggy redhead was wearing jeans and a silk blouse, she wasn’t from housekeeping.
“I’m Hillary Donavan. I’m married to Conrad’s friend.”
“Troy Donavan, the computer mogul who went to high school with Conrad.” The pieces fell into place and, good Lord, did she ever feel ridiculous. “I saw your engagement and wedding announcements in the tabloids. You’re even lovelier in person.”
Hillary crinkled her nose. “That’s a very polite way of saying I’m not photogenic. I hate the cameras, and I’m afraid they reciprocate.”
The photos hadn’t done her justice, but by no means could Hillary Donavan ever look anything but lovely—and happy. The newlywed glow radiated from her, leaving Jayne feeling weary and more than a little sad over her own lost dreams.
She forced a smile on her face. “I assume that breakfast is for us?”
“Why yes, it is,” Hillary answered, sweeping the glass cover from the pastries. “Cream cheese filled, which I understand is your favorite, along with chocolate mint tea for you and coffee for me.”
And big fat strawberries. All of her favorites.
She couldn’t help but dig to find out who’d thought to make that happen. “How lovely of the kitchen staff to remember my preferences.”
“Um, actually…” Hillary parked the cart between two chairs and waved for Jayne to sit. “I’m a former event planner so nosy habits die hard. I asked Conrad, and he was wonderfully specific.”
He remembered, all the way down to the flavor of hot tea, when he’d always preferred coffee, black, alongside mounds of food. As she stared at the radically different decor, she wondered how many other times he’d deferred to her wishes and she just hadn’t known.
Jayne touched the gold band around a plate from her wedding china. “I didn’t realize you and your husband live in Monte Carlo now.”
“Actually we flew over for a little unofficial high school reunion to see Malcolm’s charity concert tonight. Word is he’s sold out, set to take the Côte d’Azur by storm.”
They were all going in a group outing? She felt like a girl who thought she’d been asked to the movie only to find out the whole class was going along. How ironic when she’d so often wished they had more married friends.
“I have to confess to having a fan girl moment the first time I met Malcolm Douglas in person.” Hillary poured coffee from the silver carafe, the java scent steaming up all the stronger with reminders of breakfasts with Conrad. “I mean, wow, to have drinks and shoot the breeze with the latest incarnation of Harry Connick, Jr. or Michael Bublé? Pretty cool. Oh, and I’m supposed to tell you that evening gowns are being sent up this afternoon for you to choose from, since you probably packed light and it’s a black-tie charity event. But I’m rambling. Hope you don’t mind that I’m barging in on you.”
“I’m glad for the company. Not many of Conrad’s friends are married.” When Troy had come to visit, she’d wished for a gal pal to hang out with and now she finally had one…too late for it to matter. “And when we were together, none of his classmates had walked down the aisle yet.”
“They’re getting to that age now. Even Elliot Starc got engaged recently.” She shook her head laughing. “Another bad boy with a heart of gold. Did you ever get to meet him?”
“The one who was sent to the military high school after too many arrests for joy riding.” Although according to Conrad, the joy riding had been more like car theft, but Elliot had influential friends. “Now he races cars on the international circuit.”
“That’s the one. Nobody thought he would ever settle down.” Hillary’s farm fresh quality, her uncomplicated friendliness, was infectious. “But then who would have thought my husband, the Robin Hood Hacker, would become Mr. Domesticity?”
The Robin Hood Hacker had infiltrated the Department of Defense’s system, exposing corruption. After which, he’d ended up at North Carolina Military Prep reform school with Conrad. Malcolm Douglas had joined them later, having landed a plea bargain in response to drug charges.
Taking their histories into account, maybe she’d been wrong to think she could tame the bad boy. Was Hillary Donavan in for the same heartbreak down the road?
Shaking her head, Jayne cut into the pastry, cream cheese filling oozing out. “You’re not at all what I expected when I read Troy got married.”
“What did you expect?”
“Someone less…normal.” She’d always felt so alone in Conrad’s billionaire world. She hadn’t imagined finding a friend like the neighbors she’d grown up with. “I seem to be saying all the wrong things. I hope you didn’t take that the wrong way.”
“No offense taken, honestly. Troy is a bit eccentric, and I’m, well, not.” She twisted her diamond and emerald wedding ring, smiling contentedly. “We balance each other.”
Jayne had once thought the same thing about herself and Conrad. She was a romantic, and he was so brooding. Looking back now, she’d assumed because of his high school years he was some sort of tortured soul and her nurse’s spirit yearned to heal him.
Silverware clinked on the china as they ate and the silence stretched. She felt the weight of Hillary’s curious stare and unspoken question.
Jayne lifted her cup of tea. “You can go ahead and ask.”
“Sorry to be rude.” Hillary set aside her fork, a strawberry still speared on the end. “I’m just surprised to see you and Conrad together. I hope this means you’ve patched things up.”
“I’m afraid not. The divorce will be final soon.” How much, if anything, had he shared with his friends about the breakup? “We had some final paperwork to attend to. And while I’m here, I guess we’re both trying to prove we can be civil to each other. Which is crazy since our paths will never cross again.”
All or Nothing Page 3