Reunited For The Billionaire's Legacy

“I’m sure you’ve all heard the joke that love is temporary insanity, cured by marriage.” He paused as scattered laughter filled the room. “While I think that is hardly the case with Tony and Annabelle, who are two of the most perfectly matched people I have ever encountered, make no mistake about it,” he underscored harshly, “marriage is hard.”

The room went so silent you could hear the clinking of swizzle sticks as the bartenders mixed drinks. “Marriage isn’t just about finding a person you love,” he continued, oblivious to the agitated stare Rory was throwing him, “because I think that does happen. I do think falling in love is possible. What’s far harder is staying in love. Finding someone you can live with. Finding someone whose hopes and dreams, whose ideologies, mirror yours so when the going gets tough, when the inevitable realities of life intrude, that bond has the strength to support you both past the attraction that drew you together.”

He paused, the voices in his head warning him to stop, but his heart wouldn’t let him. Rory looked panic-stricken now, his gaze imploring him to rein it in. Annabelle was chewing on her lip, staring at him. Tony was frowning with that deliberate calm of his.

Coburn shrugged. “Someone neglected to tell me that you can love a person madly, blindly, but it still isn’t going to work if you can’t accept each other’s flaws and imperfections. That,” he added deliberately, looking at Diana, “sometimes love isn’t enough.”

Diana’s dark eyes shone almost black in her chalk-white face. Every party, every social function, every night he’d come home to an empty house flashed through his head in rapid-fire succession to counter the stab of pain that lanced through him.

He removed his gaze from his wife and pinned it on Tony and Annabelle. Tony had an arm around his fiancée’s waist now, his expression furious. Coburn dipped his chin. “All of this to say, sometimes one of those once-in-a-lifetime unions comes along you know will never suffer the fate of others. That you know is the deep and everlasting variety. Tony and Annabelle, I know that you will thrive and prosper together because you are one of those unions. I am so looking forward to watching you grow old together.”

The look on Tony’s face said their friendship might not last the next ten minutes. He ignored it and lifted his glass. “Here’s to Tony and Annabelle, one of the special ones... A lifetime of happiness to you both.”

The crowd lifted their glasses in stunned silence. Coburn drank deeply, moved to embrace Tony, who muttered an expletive in his ear, then dropped a kiss on the cheek of a bemused Annabelle, who looked as if she wanted to kill him only slightly less than Tony did. “You might want to address some of those repressed feelings,” she suggested drily.

Or not. He stepped back as the couple was surrounded by well-wishers, ignored Rory’s scowl and headed for the terrace and some much-needed fresh air. In fact, he thought, perhaps the whole disaster of an evening might lie in breathing the same air as his erstwhile wife.

The crisp, cool late-August night wrapped itself around him like an embrace, a slight breeze teasing the hair at the base of his neck. He yanked his tie looser and undid the top couple of buttons of his shirt. He had been way out of line in there, but some inexplicable force had insisted he tell the truth. And why the hell had she chosen tonight to resurface?

High-heeled shoes clicked on the concrete. He didn’t have to turn around to know it was Diana. He knew her tread, her gait, how those long legs of hers ate up the distance.

“How could you?”

He wheeled to face her. “How could you? These are my friends.”

She came to a halt in front of him. A flush spread across her perfect alabaster skin, staining her cheeks a soft pink. “They’re my friends, too. Annabelle asked me to come.”

“Then, you should have declined,” he said harshly. “You’ve spent twelve months avoiding me, avoiding anything about us, and you choose tonight to resurface?” He shook his head. “Usually your social etiquette is dead-on Diana, but tonight it’s been left sorely wanting.”

Her eyes darkened into furious black orbs, her fingers clutching her evening bag tight. “I would say your social etiquette is what’s lacking tonight, Coburn. First your insulting throwaway comment everyone heard, then your telling speech about how much you hated being married to me.”

“What?” he drawled mockingly. “You didn’t like the joke? I thought it particularly apt given our present situation, because it certainly was insanity what we shared. Or perhaps you didn’t like me suggesting you have flaws? Letting the world in on your dirty little secret?”

“No,” she said slowly, the flush in her cheeks descending to stain her chest with a matching rosy hue. “Your poor taste in the speech I can take, although I’m sure Tony and Annabelle won’t be thanking you later. It was your inappropriate comment to Rory I thought excessively juvenile.”

“You mean the one about being over a smart mouth and a great body?” His mouth twisted. “Really, Di, that could have been about anyone. Although,” he conceded, raking his gaze over her lithe body and small, high breasts, “it certainly does ring true in your case.”

His bald-faced lie had her clenching her free hand at her side. “You’re still a bastard, Coburn Grant. That hasn’t changed, either.”

“Sorry, no.” He watched as his perusal elicited the agitated response it always did in her, turning the rosy hue in her skin a dark red and sending the pulse at the base of her neck fluttering. “You could have avoided it by showing up at our meeting tomorrow and not among my closest circle of friends.”

She exhaled on a long sigh. “You won’t have to worry about me being around much longer. You can have New York all to yourself.”

His gaze sharpened on her face. “What does that mean?”

“I’m leaving in three and a half weeks to join Doctors Without Borders in Africa.”

“Africa? What about the job you are so in love with you couldn’t find time for me?”

“I left.” Her chin rose, gaze tangling with his. “I decided our divorce was the perfect opportunity to wipe the slate clean.”

He studied the mutinous set of her full mouth. “You left your job?”

“Yes.”

He was unprepared for the searing pain that sliced through him. Now when they were about to end their marriage with two signatures on a piece of paper she’d done the one thing that might have saved them. “Why?” he bit out, his hand clenching tight around his champagne glass. “Don’t tell me...you needed to find yourself.”

Her chin lifted another notch. “Something like that.”

He was at a true loss as to where to go with that information. All he’d ever wanted was for them to have time to devote to each other. For her to act like his true partner. But she’d never allowed it. She had refused to pull back on her grueling schedule, which had once seen her home only two days in a month as a resident, claiming it would impact her career.

“Forgive me,” he said finally, “if the whole idea of this confounds me at this particular moment.”

Her long lashes fanned over her pale cheeks. “It’s time one of us grew up, Coburn. And since that clearly isn’t going to be you with your floozy-a-week love life, I guess it has to be me.”

He absorbed the insult like a boxer taking a misguided, poorly aimed punch. “You never could get past them could you, Di? What was history never was for you.”

She opened her eyes, an amber glint firing amid a mahogany canvas. “Hard when it was thrown in my face every second minute. Why do you think I stopped attending parties with you? Who could stomach knowing that half the women in the room had had my husband?”

“You mentioned that before,” he countered, enjoying the fact he was getting to her. “A complete exaggeration I’ll tell you once again. You made me a mythological figure in your head, Di. None of it bore anything close to reality.”

“It’s hard to separate the fool’s gold from the real thing,” she scoffed. “I suppose you will have to tone it down now that you are lording it as CEO. Are you sure your ego can handle all the power?”

“It’s in fine shape,” he murmured on a low warning as he bent his head to her. “And thank you for the sincere congratulations on my promotion.”

She moistened her lips as he impaled her with his gaze. His satisfaction at how he still got to her knew no bounds. “Perhaps we should continue this discussion somewhere else? Rather than hijacking the happy occasion any more than we already have?”

“I—I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Her gaze dropped to the skin exposed by his unbuttoned shirt. “I should go anyway. I have a ton of things to do before I leave.”

He closed his hand around her slim wrist. “I disagree,” he countered in a silky-soft tone. “This is a discussion we should have had twelve months ago. Why not have it now before you run off to prove to your father you have a mind of your own?”

“And you.” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she censored herself.

He watched dismay cloud them. “Yes, Di,” he bit out. “Exactly that.”

Ebony eyes bound to blue. Emotion, something he couldn’t remember seeing in her for the last interminably painful year they’d spent together, flared in the eyes staring back at him. It made something elemental fire inside him. This was his chance to scratch beneath the surface of his wife. And although that was the last thing he should be doing the night before they ended their relationship with a resoundingly civilized divorce settlement, it was a temptation his white-hot curiosity couldn’t resist.

“We’re leaving,” he muttered, wrapping his fingers firmer around her wrist and pulling her toward the French doors.

She tugged on his arm. “You’re making a scene.”

“Not as much as we’ve made already.” He directed her toward their hosts and the happy couple to say their goodbyes. Eyes followed them as they went, sending regret lancing through him. Tonight had once again proved his wife brought out the worst in him. It was time to put an end to it once and for all—an end that had nothing to do with paperwork.

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_06bf2dfd-7c62-52f8-bf06-dc403c7fca2c)

DIANA TOOK THE glass of water her husband handed to her, closing her shaky fingers tight around the tumbler so he wouldn’t see how nervous she was. The tension that had been screaming through her ever since she’d entered Coburn’s beautifully decorated bachelor pad just a couple of blocks from the party was threatening to annihilate her composure.

She walked out onto the glazed concrete terrace while Coburn found a bottle of wine. The large open space with its comfortable lounge furniture scattered throughout was easily as big as the square footage of his trendy penthouse apartment on the top floor of the Chelsea low-rise—casual elegance that reflected her husband’s free-spirited need to be outdoors as much as possible.