Page 22 of Prognosis Irreconcilable Differences

––––––––

It was one of severaltoasts they made over the course of the evening. They dined on the balcony, overlooking a glorious ocean crowned in moonbeams by a large full moon. Waiters served them freshly shucked oysters followed by sand crab linguine.

Vince was an absolute delight, regaling her with stories from his corporate world, talking about his travels and quizzing her about her job.

‘Yes,’ Abigail chimed in. ‘What are you planning on doing with your practice?’

Jacqueline smiled at the younger woman, who had watched them like a hawk all evening. Good question. She smiled at Nathan while she gave his thigh a firm now what? squeeze.

He smiled back at her, his hand moving up her bare arm, pushing under the heavy fall of her hair to caress her nape.

‘We’ve been talking of buying something here — haven’t we, darling?’ Nathan said, thinking quickly.

‘Oh? So you’re selling the country practice, then?’ Vince asked.

‘We’re not sure yet. We’d like to keep Jacq’s place as a holiday home. Somewhere to get away from it all.’

Jacqui smiled at him. His hand at her neck was causing tiny trills of sensation up and down her body. It was utterly distracting. Still, she was amazed at his capacity to think on his feet.

No wonder he was so good in business.

It was taking all her might to remember that it was all an illusion and not to let the magic of his fingers suck her into the happily-ever-after picture Nathan was faking.

‘Sounds idyllic,’ Abigail murmured.

‘Oh, it is,’ Jacqueline said, shooting the other woman her best dreamy expression.

They were interrupted by the arrival of the most decadently sinful slice of chocolate cake Jacqui had ever seen. Abigail declined her piece, and gave Jacqueline a look that said, you’re not really going to eat that, are you? Jacqui smiled at Nathan, picked up her fork, and tucked in.

They moved inside for coffee. Nathan was pleased with how the evening had gone. More than pleased. Jacqui had slipped into her role with gusto. She’d smiled, flirted and bantered with him as if they’d never been apart. And the touching! She’d touched him constantly. His arm, his cheek, his thigh. She’d even raised her mouth in silent invitation on a few occasions.

So what was a man to do?

He didn’t know if Vince or Abigail were convinced, but he sure as hell was. Between her flirting and the distracting knowledge that she was starkers underneath that dress, he was going quietly mad.

He ached to get her alone. To kiss her for real. Have her touch him for real. Because — whether she knew it or not — that was exactly where tonight was heading.

He made himself comfortable on a blizzard-white leather lounge chair as Abigail brought in the coffee and a laden cheese platter. Jacqui joined him, cuddling her body into his. Her breasts were squashed against his arm, her hand lay high on his thigh, and she sighed as she rested her head on his shoulder.

She crossed her legs and seductively angled the foot of her crossed leg under his closest knee, so she could rub lazy circles on his opposite calf. Nathan almost groaned aloud. The erotic caress was having a predictable effect. He’d spent most of the last few hours in a state of rock-hard readiness.

Even when the conversation moved on to the boring-as-watching-paint-dry subject of the company’s float, desire still thrummed through his veins. He checked his watch, impatient to be gone. When Jacqueline yawned he seized the opportunity.

‘Oh, dear, sorry,’ she apologised.

‘Don’t be,’ Vince assured her. ‘No doubt this bloke’s been keeping you up.’

Nathan chuckled, shifting to stand, disrupting the way her legs had entwined around his but knowing they’d be even more entwined shortly. Hopefully wrapped snugly around his waist. He pulled her up with him by the hand and looked her square in the eye. ‘I think it is time to call it a night.’

Jacqui almost swooned at the look of blatant lust in Nathan’s eyes, and gripped his hand to steady herself.

Oh, God. They were going to make love!

No, no, no. She looked away from the smouldering heat. This was an act — just an act. Yes, she was impossibly turned on — practically blinded by a fog of desire so thick not even a superhero with X-ray vision could see through it.

But it wasn’t real.

Okay, the lust was real. But their relationship wasn’t. It was fake. An act. She was just doing what he’d asked of her. Her resolve to keep everything platonic between them behind closed doors still stood.

---