Jennifer Hayward - Reunited For The Billionaire's Legacy

She closed her eyes. She could still feel the force of her husband’s anger blanketing her even now. He had walked in from a party just as she had returned home from a shift at the hospital, the blood staining her wrists she’d missed in her final scrub a testament to her exhaustion. Coburn had been out for a fight from the minute he’d tossed his jacket on a chair and she’d known it, known she should just retreat into the shower and let him cool off. But his furious tirade had been off and running by then. People were starting to talk about her continued absence at social functions, he’d told her. Rumors were circulating about the state of their marriage. Questioning whether they would last... I’ve had enough of it, Di. Enough of this half-life with you.

She’d somehow found the energy to fight back because none of what he was saying was fair. Just because her husband enjoyed giving his older brother fits by taking off for a last-minute bicycle race in the French Riviera didn’t mean she had the same lack of loyalty to her job. People’s lives depended on her. She didn’t get to choose when and how long she was on duty. But Coburn in his stubborn arrogance had stated there were other doctors in the city of Manhattan, and he needed her by his side. Which had devolved into him suggesting she was using her work to avoid him and their issues. Which might have had some truth to it. But she had been too mad, too hurt to rein in her arsenal of similar complaints about his irresponsible behavior. Where had he been the night of the Taylor holiday party when she’d needed him by her side? Partying in Cannes with friends...

They’d traded barbs until she literally couldn’t stand on two feet anymore, then she’d showered and spent the night in the spare bedroom. The next day she’d moved into her parents’ guest room until she could find an apartment of her own. Coburn had been too angry to come after her. Maybe all there was to be said had been said.

Her father had gleefully offered an “I told you so” and beat Coburn’s shortcomings into her head until she was sufficiently brainwashed she knew she would never go back. But in the spirit of her newfound brutally honest outlook on life, as painful as it might be, she knew her father couldn’t be blamed for her and Coburn’s split. They had needed no assistance wrecking the good that they’d had.

The fact that Coburn had been with other women months after they’d parted had been the final nail in the coffin. The part of her that had held out hope they might work things out had died then.

The only mystery was why neither of them had filed the divorce papers sooner. It had been she, after signing her contract to work abroad, who had started the proceedings.

A chorus of excited giggles floated across the air to her as a group of girls horsed around with two attractive males. You aren’t fun anymore. Coburn’s words echoed through her head from that last night. What happened to you?

She thought about it. Had she ever been fun? Being a resident was not meant to be a joyride. It had been the most grueling five years of her life, meant to separate the weak from the strong. Why couldn’t her husband have accepted the early years were going to be like that? That it would change.

He joined her on the terrace then, as if she’d conjured him up to ask just that question. But of course she hadn’t. Not now when they were about to make their relationship history.

She eyed the bottle of champagne in his hands. “What are we celebrating?”

His sensuous mouth curved in a humorless smile. “How about our incredibly civilized divorce?”

Her mouth twisted. “Because the lawyers hashed out every clause for us.”

“Your decision.” His electric blue eyes lanced through her. “I was willing to sit down and act like two reasonable human beings for an hour. You for some reason were not. I’m very curious as to why that might be.”

She hadn’t let herself wonder that. Perhaps because she didn’t want to know the answer.

She watched the play of muscles in his forearms as he worked the cork out of the bottle. Exposed by his rolled-up sleeves, they were one of her favorite parts of him. Lean and muscular, he was all sinewy power without an excess centimeter of flesh on him. Potently strong enough to brace himself with as he flipped her from one sexual position to the next...

The cork flew into the air with a decisive pop. It jerked her back to reality. She couldn’t be thinking things like that. Thoughts like that had always gotten her into trouble when it came to Coburn. Because they inevitably led to sex and their erotic, spectacular love life that had become a crutch for their utterly dismal relationship skills.

Coburn filled two glasses and handed one to her, his gaze resting on her heated cheeks. “Disconcerting, isn’t it, probing at the real reasons why we do the things we do? Maybe you were scared that one hour in a boardroom would end up the way it always does with us... You would call me a selfish son of a bitch and I would make you eat your words, one orgasm at a time.”

The heat in her cheeks darkened into a full-out fire. “Perhaps my choice was the wiser one, then?”

“Or the coward’s way out.”

Her chin lifted. “There’s nothing wrong with a bit of self-realization. In not repeating the same mistakes we’ve made in the past...”

“If you call that part of our relationship a mistake, yes.” The glitter in his gaze made her shift her weight to the other foot. Damn but this had been a colossal mistake.

He lifted his glass, his gaze holding hers. “To self-realization, then. And the dissolution of our hasty, ill-thought-out vows.”

A throb dug itself deep into her flesh, somewhere in the region of her heart. To hear him sum up their union like that without acknowledging the intense highs only they had offered each other didn’t seem right. “To greater self-realization,” she echoed, lifting the glass to her lips.

“What?” he murmured after he’d taken a sip. “You don’t agree we were a hasty, ill-thought-out union?”

She turned her head to look at the revelers. “I think we were much more than that.”

A silence fell between them. She felt his eyes on her, coolly assessing. When she thought he might say something, she cut him off at the pass. “I’m happy for Harrison. He’ll make a fine president if he wins.”

“The country couldn’t do any better.”

“And Frankie. She’s very beautiful.” A cynical note entered her voice as she referenced her husband’s PA, who was married to his older brother. “How did you let that one get away? She is so your type, Coburn. Young and impressionable.”

“And about to give up her career for her and Harrison’s new addition to the family.” His mouth curled with a sardonic twist. “What a lucky man he is... He married a woman who doesn’t need to prove herself to the world.”

The dagger cut through her as cleanly as her own surgeon’s scalpel. “You never seemed to want babies, Coburn. If that was high on your list, you should have mentioned it when you were cataloging my potential as your wife. You knew with my residency it would be years.”

A frown furrowed his brow. “There was no cataloging . We married before we had any idea who the other one was.”

Her stomach knotted. “And you found me sorely lacking in any capacity other than the bedroom.”

His gaze narrowed. “You liked to think that was the reason. Because then you didn’t have to work at it at all. You could just run off like the spoiled little rich girl you were and cry to Daddy. There were no repercussions.”

No repercussions? She’d spent the past year trying to bury herself in her work because it was too painful to go home to an apartment that didn’t have Coburn in it. He really had no clue.