All or Nothing (4 page)

Between their freelance work for Interpol and their regular day jobs, there was little time left to hang out like they’d done during the old days. Damn unlucky for him one of those few occasions happened to be now, when they were all around to witness the final implosion of his marriage.

And what if he didn’t get one last night with Jayne? What if he had to spend the rest of his life with this hunger gnawing at his gut every time a blonde woman walked by? Except no woman, regardless of her hair color, affected him the way Jayne did.

No matter what he told his brothers, he was not okay. But damn it, he would be tonight after the concert when he lay Jayne back on that sofa and made her his again.

* * *

Jayne hadn’t been on a date in three years, not even to McDonald’s with a friend. How ironic that her first post-separation outing with a man would be with her own estranged husband. And he’d taken her to a black-tie charity concert on the Côte d’Azur—the French Riviera.

Although she had to admit, his idea of finding a peaceful middle ground had merit—even if he’d all but blackmailed her to gain her cooperation.

At least seated in the historic opera house she could lose herself in the crowd, simply sit beside Conrad and enjoy the music, without worrying about temptation or messy conversations. Malcolm Douglas sang a revamp of some 1940s tune, accompanying his vocals on the grand piano. His smooth baritone voice washed over her as effortlessly as the glide of Conrad’s fingers on her shoulder. So what if her husband had draped his arm along the back of her seat? No big deal.

In fact, she’d been surprised at how little pressure he’d put on her throughout the day, especially after their intense discussions, their potent attraction, the night before. Waking up alone was one thing. But then to have him spend the entire day away from her...

His amenability was good. Wasn’t it?

That niggling question had grown during the rest of the afternoon without him. Lunchtime passed and she started to question if she’d heard his offer of a date correctly. Except Hillary had mentioned it, as well. Then the staff brought a selection of evening wear in her size. She’d chosen a silver gown with bared shoulders, the mild winter only requiring a black satin wrap.

By the time Conrad arrived at their suite to pick her up, her nerves had been strung so tightly, she was ready to jump out of her skin. The sight of him in a tuxedo, broad shoulders filling out the coat to mouthwatering perfection, had just been downright unfair. All the way to the limo, she’d thought he would make his move, only to find Troy and Hillary Donavan waiting in the limousine, ready to go out to dinner with them before the concert. But then hadn’t Hillary said Troy and Conrad were having some kind of reunion?

The evening had been perfect.

And perfectly frustrating.

Conrad’s thumb grazed the sensitive crook of her neck, along the throb of her pulse. Did he know her heart beat faster for him? Her breath hitched in her throat.

Hillary leaned toward her and whispered, “Are you all right?”

Wincing, Jayne resisted the urge to shove Conrad’s arm away. “I’m fine, just savoring.”

Savoring the feel of Conrad’s hand on her bare skin.

Damn it.

He shifted in his seat, his fingers stroking along the top of her arm and sending shivers along her spine. She struggled not to squirm in her seat and draw Hillary’s attention again. But that was getting tougher and tougher to manage by the second. He had to know what he was doing.

Still, if he’d been trying to seduce her, he could have been a lot more overt, starting with ditching the other couple. Her mind filled with vivid memories of the time he’d reserved a private opera box for a performance of
La Bohème
and made love to her with his hand under her dress.

Only one of the many times he’d diverted an argument with sex.

Yet now, he turned her down. Why?

The lights came up for intermission, and Conrad’s arm slid away as he applauded. She bit her lip to keep from groaning.

He stood then angled back down to her. “Do you and Hillary mind keeping each other company while Troy and I talk shop? He’s developing some new software to prevent against hackers at the casino.”

“Of course I don’t mind.” She’d given up the right to object when she’d walked out on him three years ago. Soon, their breakup would be official and legal.

“Thanks,” he said, cupping her face in a warm palm for an instant before straightening. At the last second, he glanced back over his shoulder. “I didn’t think it was possible, but you look even more beautiful than the night we saw
La Bohème
.”

Her mouth fell open.

The reference to that incredible night had been no accident. Conrad had known exactly what he was doing. No doubt, her savvy husband had planned his every move all day with the express purpose of turning her inside out. The only question that remained?

Had he done so just for the satisfaction of turning her down again? Or did he want to ensure she wouldn’t back away at the last second?

Either way, two could play that game.

Four

C
onrad downshifted his Jaguar as he took the curve on the coastal road, Jayne in the passenger seat.

After the concert ended, he’d sent Troy and Hillary off in the limo, his Jaguar already parked and waiting for the next part of his plan to entice Jayne. She’d always loved midnight rides along the shore and since neither of them seemed able to sleep much, this longer route home seemed the right idea for his campaign to win her over.

When he took her back to the penthouse, he wanted to make damn sure they were headed straight for bed. Or to the rug in front of the fireplace.

Hell, against the wine rack was fine by him as long as he had Jayne naked and in his arms. The day apart after the fireworks last night seemed to have worked the way he’d hoped, giving the passion time to simmer. Even after three years away from each other, he understood the sensual side of her at least.

He glanced over at her, moonlight casting a glow around her as she toyed with her loose blond hair brushing her shoulders. His fingers itched to comb through the silky strands. Soon, he promised himself, looking back at the winding cliff road. Very soon.

She touched his arm lightly. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather visit with Malcolm tonight?”

Instead of being with her?

Not a chance.

“And steal Malcolm away from his groupies?” He kept his hand on the gearshift, enjoying the feel of her touch on him. Too bad the dash lights shone on her empty ring finger. “Even I wouldn’t be that selfish.”

“If you’re certain.” Her hand trailed away, searing him with a ghostly caress.

His hand twitched as he shifted into fourth. He winced at the slight grind to the finely tuned machine. “We had a chance to shoot the breeze this afternoon with Troy.”

“Malcolm seems so different when he’s away from the spotlight.” She stretched her legs out in front of her, kicking off her silvery heels and wriggling her painted toes under the light blast of the heater. “It’s difficult to reconcile the guy in holey blue jeans jamming on the guitar in your living room to the slick performer in suits and ties, crooning from the piano.”

“Whatever gets the job done.” He forced his eyes back on the road before he drove them over a cliff. “You and Hillary seem to have hit it off.”

“I enjoyed the day with her, and it was nice to have another woman’s opinion when I picked out which dress to wear tonight.” She trailed her thumb along her bared collarbone, her black wrap having long ago slipped down around her waist.

The silver gown glistened in the glow of the dash, all but begging him to pull over and devote his undivided attention to peeling off the fitted bodice....

Eyes on the road.

He guided the Jag around another curve, yacht lights glinting on the water far below.

She angled her head to the side. “What are you thinking about?”

Nuh-uh. Not answering that one. “What are
you
thinking about?”

“Um, hello?” She laughed dryly. “Exactly what you intended for me to think about. The night we went to see
La Bohème
.”

How neatly she’d turned the tables on him.

He liked that about her, the way she took control, too, which reminded him of how she’d seduced him in his favorite chair once they’d gotten home from
La Bohème
. “That was a, uh, memorable evening.”

“Not everything about our marriage was bad,” she conceded.

“Italian opera will always hold a special place in my heart.”

Except he’d thrown out that damn chair when she left, then found he had to pitch most of the rest of his furniture as well, including the dining-room table, which also held too many sensual memories of her making her way panther-style toward him with a strawberry in her mouth. The only place they’d never made love was in that tomato-red room since she’d said it was meant for guests, which somehow made it off-limits for sex.

She inched her wrap back up and around her shoulders, the night having dipped to fifty degrees. “I thought
Don Giovanni
was your favorite opera.”

“The story of a hero landing in hell for his sins?” Appropriate. “A longtime favorite. Although I’m surprised you remember that I liked it.”

“You remembered that I prefer cream cheese pastries and chocolate mint tea for breakfast.”

He’d made a mental note of many things she liked back then, working his ass off to keep her happy as he felt their marriage giving way like a sandy cliff. “We were together for four years. I intended to be with you for the rest of my life.”

“And you think I didn’t?” Pain coated her words, as dark as the clouds shifting over the stars. “I wanted to build a family with you.”

Another of her dreams he’d crushed. The ways he’d failed this woman just kept piling on, compacting his frustration until he was ready to explode.

Not trusting himself to drive, he pulled off the road and into a deserted rest area. He set the emergency brake and wished the anger inside him was as easy to halt. Anger at himself. “I gave you a puppy, damn it.”

“I wanted a baby.”

“Okay...” He angled toward her, half hoping she would slap his face, anything but stare at him with tears in her eyes. “Let’s make a baby.”

She flattened her hands to his chest, hard, stopping just shy of that slap he’d hoped for. Although a telltale flex of her jaw relayed her rising temper. “Don’t you dare mock me or my dreams. That’s not fair.”

“I’m very serious about being with you.”

“So you stay away from me all day?” she shouted, her fingers twisting in the lapels of his tuxedo. “You stay away for three whole years?”

Her question stopped him cold. “That bothered you?”

“For three years you ignored my attempts to contact you.” She shoved free and leaned against the door, arms crossed under her breasts, which offered too beautiful a view. “Did you or did you not manipulate me on purpose today?”

He chose his words carefully, determined to get through the tough stuff so they could make love without the past hovering over them. “I figured we both needed space after last night if there was any chance of us enjoying our evening together.”

“That makes sense,” she conceded.

“I’m a logical man.” He rested a hand on the back of her seat, his fingers dangling a whisper away from her hair. He was so damn close to having her, he could already taste her.

“You may think you’re logical, but I don’t understand half of what you do, Conrad. I do know that if you’d really loved me, truly wanted to stay married, you would have been honest. Whatever game you’re playing now, it has nothing to do with love.” Words tumbled from her faster and faster as if overflowing from a bottle. “You just don’t want to lose. I’m another prize, a contest, a challenge. The way you’ve played me today and for three years? It’s a game to you.”

“I can assure you,” he said softly, his fingers finally—thank God—finally skimming along her silky hair. “I consider the stakes to be very high. I am not in the mood to play.”

“Then what are you doing? Because this back and forth, this torment, has nothing to do with peace.”

“I have to agree.” He traced her ear, down to the curve of her neck.

Her eyes slid closed and the air all but crackled. “Are you doing this to make me stay?”

“I told you what I want. A chance for us to say goodbye.” He thumbed the throbbing pulse along her neck, his body going hard at the thought of her heart beating faster for him. “Leaving was your choice, not mine, but after three years I get that you mean business.”

Her lashes fluttered open, her blue eyes pinning him. “And you really accept my decision.”

“You
were
yelling at me about thirty seconds ago.” He outlined her lips, her breath hot against his palm.

“Are you accusing me of being a shrew?” She nipped his finger.

He forgot to breathe. “I would never say that.”

“Why not? I’ve called you a bastard and worse.”

“I am a bastard, and I am far worse.” He took her face in both hands, willing her to hear him, damn it, to finally understand how much she’d meant to him. “But I’m also a man who would have been there for you every day of your life.”

She searched his eyes, her mouth so close to his their breaths tangled together. Something in her expression stopped him.

“Every day, Conrad? Unless it’s one of the times you can’t be reached or when you call but your number is blocked.”

Damn it. He pulled away, slumping back in his seat. “I have work and holdings around the world.”

“You’re a broken record,” she said, her voice weary and mad all at once. “But who am I to judge? You’re not the only one who can keep secrets.”

A chill iced the heat right out of the air. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Do you know what finally pushed me over the edge?” Her eyes filled with tears that should have been impossible to hold back. “What made me walk out?”

“It took me a couple of days to return your calls, and you’d had enough.” He’d fired the secretary that hadn’t put her calls through. He’d honestly been working at being more accessible to Jayne.

“Seven days, Conrad. Seven.” She jabbed a finger at him, her voice going tight and the first tear sliding down her cheek. “I called you because I needed you. I’d gotten a suspicious report back on a mammogram, and the doctor wanted to do a biopsy right away.”

Her words sucker punched
everything
out of him, leaving him numb. Then scared as hell.

He shot upright and started to grab her shoulders, only to hold back at the last second, afraid to touch her and upset her even more. “God, Jayne, are you all right? If I had known...”

“But you didn’t.” She pushed his hands away slowly, deliberately. “And don’t worry, I’m fine. The lump was benign, but it sure would have been nice to have you hold my hand that week. So don’t tell me you would have been there for me every day of my life. It’s simply not true.”

The sense of how badly he’d let Jayne down slammed over him. He closed his eyes, head back on his seat as he fought down the urge to leap out of the car and shout, punch a wall, anything to ease the crushing weight of how he’d let her down.

One deep breath at a time, he regained his composure enough to turn his head and look at her again. “What happened to the puppy?”

“Huh?” She scrubbed the backs of her hands across her wet cheeks.

“What did you do with Mimi after you left?” Mimi, named for the heroine in
La Bohème.

“Oh, I kept Mimi, of course. She’s with...a dog sitter.”

Of course she’d kept the dog. Jayne wasn’t the kind of person to throw away the good things in her life. He was.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, stared out the window at the churning night sea below and wished those murky waters held some answers. Jayne’s ocean-fresh scent gave him only a second’s warning before she took his face in her hands and kissed him.

* * *

Desperate to forget the past, Jayne sealed her lips to Conrad’s. Right or wrong, she just needed to lose herself in the feel of his body against hers. The roar of the waves crashing against the shore echoed the elemental restlessness inside her.

With a low growl, he wrapped his strong, muscled arms around her. He took her mouth as thoroughly as she took his. The taste of coffee from dinner mingled with the flavor of him. And what a mix of the familiar and a first kiss wrapped up in one delicious moment. Goose bumps sprinkled along her arms, shimmering through her, as well.

Her hands slid from the warm bristle of his face to his shoulders and she held on. Because, God, this was what she’d wanted since the second she’d sensed him walk up behind her in the casino, drawn by the intoxicating warmth and bay rum scent of him. The way his hands smoothed back her hair, stroked along her arms, stoked a familiar heat inside her. She’d been right to instigate this. Here, in his arms, she didn’t have to think about the pain of the past. To hell with peace and resolving their problems. Rehashing old issues just brought more pain. She wanted this bliss.

And then goodbye.

His mouth trekked to her jaw as he dipped lower, his late-day beard a sweet abrasion against her neck. Her head lolled to the side, a moan rolling up her throat. She stroked along the fine texture of his tux over bold muscles, up and into his hair. Combing through his impossibly soft strands, she urged him to give more, take more. She tugged gently, bringing his mouth back to hers.

Bittersweet pleasure rippled through her, reminding her how good they’d been together. Her breasts ached for his touch and she wriggled to get nearer, pressing against the hard wall of his chest. She struggled to get closer, swinging a knee over and bumping the gearshift.

“Damn it,” Conrad’s muffled curse whispered against her mouth but the thought that he might stop was more than she could bear.

She shoved her hands under his tuxedo coat, sinking her fingernails into the fine fibers of his shirt. Three years of being without sex—without
him
—crested inside her, demanding she follow through. His hand skimmed up her leg, tunneling under her dress as he’d done years ago. The rasp of his calluses along her skin ignited a special kind of pleasure and the promise of more.

Except that private theater box had been a lot roomier than his Jaguar. And she wanted more than just his
hands
on her.

“Take me...” she gasped.

“I intend to do just that.” His voice rumbled in his chest, vibrating against her.

“Not here. Home. Take me home.”

He angled back to look at her as if gauging the risk of pausing. He grazed his knuckles along her cheek. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” As sure as anyone could be about making love with the person who’d broken her heart. She scored her nails down his back. “I know what I want. I won’t change my mind about being with you tonight.”

It wasn’t a matter of winning or losing anymore. It was just a matter of stopping the ache and praying for some of that peace. Because wanting him was tearing her apart.

Angling into him, she nipped his bottom lip. “Conrad, I think it’s time we break in your new furniture.”