A Deal To Mend Their Marriage. Michelle Douglas

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      He wished she hadn’t. Her small acts of courtesy had always taken him off guard and left him all at sea. They’d oozed class and made it plain that she’d had an education in grace and decorum—one that he’d utterly lacked. It had highlighted all the differences between them. He’d lived in fear of unknowingly breaking one of those unknown rules of hers and hurting her.

      You hurt her anyway.

      And she’d hurt him.

      He pushed those thoughts away.

      Caro gazed at him and just for a fraction of a second her lips twitched. ‘I didn’t buy cake on your account.’

      She forked a mouthful of honey roll to her lips and while she didn’t actually close her eyes in relish, he had a feeling that deep inside herself she did.

      ‘This cake is very good. Jean-Pierre is a wizard.’

      That must be the baker’s name. She’d always taken pains to find out and then use people’s names. He’d found that charming. Once. Now he saw it for what it was—a front.

      ‘But if you don’t want it please don’t eat it.’

      He leaned towards her, his frown deepening. ‘You never used to eat cake.’

      ‘I know! I can’t believe what I was missing.’ Her eyes twinkled for a moment and her lips lifted, but then she sobered and her face became void of emotion. ‘But people change. Five years ago you wouldn’t have been at all concerned with the threat of me taking you for half of all you owned.’

      He’d worked hard during the last five years to make a success of his security and private investigation firm. Such a success, in fact, that if he were still alive even Caro’s father would sit up and take notice. He sat back. It seemed he’d been making money while Caro had been eating cake. It summed them up perfectly.

      ‘Five years ago I didn’t have anything worth taking, Caro.’

      She looked as if she might disagree with him, but after a moment she simply shook her head. ‘Let me waste no further time in putting your mind at rest. I don’t want your money, Jack. I never did. You should know that yesterday I was named as my father’s sole beneficiary.’

      Whoa! He straightened. Okay...

      ‘As we’re still married I expect you could make a successful claim on the estate. Do you wish to?’

      His hands clenched to fists. ‘Absolutely not!’

      She shrugged and ate more cake. ‘You haven’t changed that much, then. Earlier today I’d have staked the entire estate on you not wanting a penny.’

      Damn straight! But her odd belief in him coupled with her utter lack of concern that he could have taken her for a financial ride pricked him. ‘So, this pickle you’re in?’

      She set her plate down, clasping her hands to her knees. ‘Jack, I’d like to hire you for a rather...delicate job.’

      He tried to hide his shock.

      ‘But before we continue I’d like an assurance of your discretion and confidentiality.’

      ‘You wouldn’t have asked me that once.’ She’d have taken it for granted.

      ‘True, but when you walked away from our marriage you proved my trust in you was misplaced. So I’m asking for an assurance now.’

      He glanced down to find his knuckles had turned white. He unclenched his hands and took a deep breath. ‘I should warn you that if this “delicate” matter of yours involves murder or threats of violence then I’m honour-bound to—’

      ‘Don’t be ridiculous! Of course it doesn’t. Don’t take me for a fool. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a fool.’

      He bit back something very rude. Bending down, he pulled the divorce papers he’d had drawn up from his satchel and slapped them onto the coffee table.

      ‘I don’t want to do a job for you, Caroline. I simply want you to sign the divorce papers and then never to clap eyes on you again.’

      Her head rocked back, hurt gleamed in her eyes, and that soft, composed mouth of hers looked so suddenly vulnerable he hated himself for his outburst.

      She rose, pressing her hands to her waist. ‘That was unnecessarily rude.’

      It had been.

      She glanced at her watch. ‘As interesting as this trip down memory lane has been, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I have to be somewhere shortly.’ She picked up the papers. ‘I’ll have my lawyer read over these and then we can get divorce proceedings underway.’

      ‘And you’ll draw the process out for as long as you can to punish me for refusing this job?’ he drawled, rising too.

      Her chin came up. ‘I’ll do nothing of the sort. You can have your divorce, Jack. The sooner the better as far as I’m concerned.’

      A weight pressed down on him, trying to crush his chest. It made no sense. She was promising him exactly what he wanted.

      With an oath, he sat again.

      Caro’s eyes widened. ‘What are you doing?’

      ‘Finishing my coffee and cake. Sit, Caro.’

      ‘Really, Jack! I—’

      ‘It’s hard, seeing you again.’

      Her tirade halted before it could begin. She swallowed, her eyes throbbing with the same old confusion and hurt that burned through him.

      The intensity of emotion this woman could still arouse disturbed him. It was as if all the hard work he’d put in over the last five years to forget her and get his life back on track could be shattered with nothing more than a word or a look. He couldn’t let that happen. He straightened. He wouldn’t let that happen.

      ‘No woman has ever made me as happy as you did.’ He sipped his coffee. ‘Or as miserable. I wasn’t expecting the lid to be lifted on all those old memories. It’s made me...testy—and that’s why I said what I said. It was a mean-spirited thing to say. I’m sorry.’

      Finally she sat. ‘It doesn’t make it any less true, though.’

      ‘It’s not true. Not really.’ He didn’t look at her as he said it. ‘I expect things will be more comfortable once we put this initial meeting behind us.’

      ‘I expect you’re right.’

      She frowned suddenly and glanced a little to his left. With a swift movement she reached down and picked up... His cufflinks!

      Jack bit back a curse. They must have fallen from his case when he’d pulled out the divorce papers. He could tell from the way her nostrils suddenly flared that she recognised the box. They’d been her wedding present to him when he’d said he’d prefer not to wear a ring—rose gold with a tiny sapphire in each that she’d claimed were nearly СКАЧАТЬ