Page 8 of Prognosis Irreconcilable Differences

‘How did I end up with you?’ he mused.

Jacqui opened her eyes and stared into his puzzled gaze. His beautifully sculpted lips sported a Mona Lisa smile. Their gazes locked, and for a moment neither of them said anything, contemplating their wild glory days when neither of them had needed anything but each other.

‘I don’t know, Nate. I don’t know.’

Nathan’s stomach grumbled and he broke their eye contact, helping himself to some toast and placing an egg on top. As hungry as he was, he didn’t think it wise to pile up his plate after two days of starvation. Jacqui was right, though, it did taste good.

Damn good.

He could feel the residual weakness from the flu virtually disappearing as he ate, the restorative effects of protein, carbohydrates and coffee making him feel bulletproof again. Preparing him for the verbal sparring to come.

‘So, I take it that’s your Porsche bogged down the road a bit?’ Everyone who had come into the clinic on Saturday had reported the unusual sighting.

He looked up at her and nodded. ‘Is it okay?’

Jacqui frowned. ‘Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?’

‘Sports cars attract attention.’

She laughed. ‘Isn’t that the point?’

‘Sometimes not the good kind.’

‘This is hardly the Bronx, Nate. Don’t worry, your mid-life-crisis toy is safe here.’

Nathan chuckled, well used to her disdain for the trappings of wealth. ‘What makes you think my car represents a mid-life crisis?’

Jacqui shrugged. ‘You’re forty-two and you’re here.’

He laughed again. ‘Sorry to disappoint. I’m crisis-free.’ Although that wasn’t entirely true. He did have a problem. One she could help him with.

‘Well, the car certainly doesn’t represent option number two.’

‘Oh and what’s that?’

‘The I’m-compensating-for-a-lack-of-what-I-have-in-my-shorts toy.’ God knew she’d been reminded of that too often this weekend.

This time Nate roared laughing. ‘No. Nothing Freudian about it.’

Jacqui had forgotten how magnificent his laugh was, and goose bumps feathered her skin, her nipples tighten in blatant response to his sexy baritone. She watched over the rim of her coffee mug as the crinkles around his eyes and mouth relaxed. But the amusement still sparkled in his jade gaze.

God, she’d missed this. Sharing a meal with him.

She placed her coffee mug down on the table. Time to lay their cards on the table. Her stomach was full and he was dressed. She couldn’t bear the suspense any longer.

‘Okay, Nate. Spill. Why the bizarre request?’

Nathan watched her watching him, her gaze wary. Would she listen to him? Would she hear him out? Would she agree? ‘I have a...problem only you can help me with.’

Jacqui’s heart started drumming in her chest. It seemed so loud in the intense silence that followed his statement it was real competition for the rain on the roof. Surely he could hear it? ‘Go on.’

‘You ever heard of a guy called Vince Slater?’

Jacqui frowned, the name vaguely familiar. ‘Some rich old guy who’s on to wife number six?’

Nathan chuckled. Good summation. Except he was also a world-renowned financial genius, with razor-sharp business acumen and the Midas touch. And a friend.

‘That’s the guy. He’s agreed to join the executive of Trent Fertility, which will put us in a very strong position for the float.’ He looked at Jacqui, looking at him as if he was speaking in tongues. ‘You do know about the float?’

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