Page 33 of Prognosis Irreconcilable Differences

‘And now you have more has it made you happy, Nate? It’s okay to reassess, you know. To say, Hey, I was much happier when I was eating cold spaghetti out of a tin and doing something I really loved, that really fulfilled me.’

Nathan gave her a grudging smile. He picked up a spiral lock and rubbed it across his fingertips. ‘I hate cold spaghetti.’

Jacqui covered his hand with hers, stilling the sweet torture of his fingers brushing her neck. ‘It’s a metaphor.’

He was looking at her with such conviction. Utterly confident that all was well in his world. And it was so tempting to melt into his arms and leave him to his delusion. After all, she was only back in his life for a few more weeks and then she need never see him again.

And maybe if she hadn’t seen those photos, or witnessed the magic of him with Sonya, she’d be able to do just that. But nothing he said would persuade her that he wasn’t setting himself up for a fall.

‘Oh, Nate,’ she sighed. He was close, and his hands in her hair and on her shoulders were so tempting. She wanted to lay her head on his chest and leave it alone. But would he thank her for leaving him to his illusion? ‘You’re wrong.’

Nathan dropped his arms. This was getting them precisely nowhere. They were never going to agree on this. They were polar opposites.

Really, they always had been.

‘We have to go,’ he said, turning away, striding to the door.

Jacqui felt a hundred more arguments bubble to the surface. But he was once again all business. The warm, smiling doctor who had calmed a frightened patient was gone and the cold, austere businessman was once again standing before her.

‘Fine,’ she murmured, and followed him out.

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Later in bed that nighttheir lovemaking bordered on punishing. Nathan had been thinking all day about what she’d said, unable to erase it from his mind. He’d had a million things he should have been doing, should have been thinking about concerning the float, but instead he’d found himself looking deep inside, examining his motives.

And he hated all that psychological claptrap. He remembered it vividly from the counselling he’d had after his father’s suicide.

By the time he’d crawled into bed at one a.m. he’d been tired and irritable. Worse than that, Jacqui had been naked, the sheet half kicked off, and, despite his wanting to shake her, his body had betrayed what he really wanted to do.

Still, it had not been his intention to act on it. He was an adult, capable of restraint. But as he’d lain beside her, her female aroma filling his senses, he’d itched to touch her. And when she’d rolled away from him he’d followed her on to her side, spooning her back.

Normally he woke her leisurely — stroking her hair, tracing the graceful arc of her spine, kissing her neck. But tonight he’d been in no mood for pleasantries. He’d reached for her breast and given a guttural grunt of satisfaction as the nipple had budded in his palm. He’d already been hard, and he’d nestled his erection against her cheeks.

Jacqui had come instantly awake — Nathan’s aftershave and the other scent that made him exclusively Nate combining to lance her womb with hot, savage lust. She’d turned her head awkwardly, her hand snaking into the back of his hair, pulling his lips towards her, finding his mouth, meeting his hard kiss stroke for stroke.

She’d known on some base level that he was still angry with her, and hated that she wanted him so much his approach just didn’t matter. And then his hand had moved from her breast to the heat between her legs, and it really hadn’t mattered.

Nathan wasn’t sure how long they lay panting in the dark afterwards, staring at the ceiling. All he knew was that it seemed like an age and yet his heart still hammered madly.

‘I’ve been thinking about what you said today.’

Jacqui’s pulse, which had been tripping along, suddenly slowed, coming perilously close to stopping. ‘Really?’

Nathan nodded. ‘You were right.’

Jacqui shifted slightly so she could look at his face —not that she could see it properly in the night shadows, just the strong outline of his jaw. ‘Really?’

‘I am missing something.’

‘Okay.’ Jacqui lay silently, waiting for the qualifier.

‘I’ve worked my butt off for years. And I haven’t taken my eyes off the prize. Not once. Not even to acknowledge that a part of me wasn’t that thrilled with it all. That there was something missing from my life. Let’s face it, I hardly do any real medicine these days. I go to work at my corporate office and I spend all day trying to make my company the best it can be — pushing papers around, talking with accountants and lawyers, stock market analysts and pharmaceutical directors, government ministers. I chair executive meetings and network my butt off, but deep down -’ He rubbed his jaw. ‘I don’t feel...fulfilled.’

And suddenly he knew what it was he’d been missing from his life these past few years. The source of the nagging sense of disquiet.

It was Jacqui.

‘It’s you. I’m missing you.’

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