All or Nothing

by Catherine Mann

  “You never know.”

  “I do know. Once I leave here, my life and Conrad’s will go in two very different directions.” Jayne folded her napkin and placed it on the table, her appetite gone.

  She couldn’t even bring herself to be mad at Hillary for being nice and happy. And Jayne hoped deep in her heart that Troy would be the bad boy who’d changed for the woman he’d married.

  She’d been certain Conrad had changed, too, but he’d been so evasive about his travels, refusing to be honest with her when she’d confronted him again and again about his mysterious absences. He didn’t disappear often, but when he did, he didn’t leave a note or contact her. His excuses when he returned were thin at best. She’d wanted to believe he wasn’t like his father…or her father. She still wanted to believe that.

  But she couldn’t be a fool. He kept insisting she should trust him. Well, damn it, he should have trusted her. The fact that he didn’t left her with only two conclusions.

  He wasn’t the man she’d hoped, and he’d very likely never really loved her at all.

  This little fantasy two-day make-nice-a-thon was just that. A fantasy. Thank God, he’d turned her away last night, because had she fallen into bed with him, she would have regretted it fiercely come morning time. Her body and her brain had never been simpatico around her husband.

  But she had a great big broken heart as a reminder to listen only to her common sense.

  * * *

  Common sense told him that keeping his distance today would give him an edge tonight. But staying away from Jayne now that she’d returned to Monte Carlo was driving him crazy.

  Seeing her on the security camera feed from the solarium didn’t help his restraint, either.

  But the secure room offered the safest place for him to hang out with a couple of his high school buds—Donavan and Douglas—who’d also been recruited for Interpol by Colonel Salvatore. The colonel had his own little army of freelancers drafted from the ranks of his former students. Although God knows why he’d chosen them, the least conformist boys in the whole school. But they were tight with each other, bonded by their experiences trying to patch their lives back together.

  They’d even dubbed themselves “The Alpha Brotherhood.” They could damn well conquer anything.

  Now, they shared a deeper bond in their work for Salvatore. For obvious reasons, they still couldn’t talk freely out in public. But a vaulted security room in his casino offered a place of protected privacy so they could let their guards down.

  The remains of their lunch lay scattered on the table. Normally he would have enjoyed the hell out of this. Not today. His thoughts stayed too firmly on Jayne, and his hand gravitated toward her image on the screen.

  Donavan tipped back his chair, spinning his signature fedora on one finger. “Hey, Conrad, I picked up some great Cuban smokes last week, but I wouldn’t want to start Malcolm whining that his allergies are acting up.”

  Douglas scratched at the hole in the knees of his jeans. “I do not whine.”

  “Okay—” Donavan held up his hands “—if that’s the story you want to go with, fine, I’m game.”

  “I am seriously going to kick the crap out of you—” Douglas had picked fights from day one “—just for fun.”

  “Bring it.”

  “I would, but I don’t want to risk straining my vocal cords and disappoint the groupies.” Douglas grinned just like he was posing for the cover of one of his CDs. “But then, you’ve been benched by marriage so you wouldn’t understand.”

  Some things never changed. They could have all been in their barracks, seventeen years ago. Except today Conrad didn’t feel much like joining in. His eyes stayed locked on the screen showing security feed from his place.

  Or more precisely, his eyes stayed locked on Jayne at the indoor pool with Donavan’s wife. He couldn’t take his eyes off the image of her relaxed and happy. Jayne wore clothes instead of a swimsuit, not that it mattered when he could only think of her wearing nothing at all. She was basking in the sun through the solarium windows.

  Donavan sailed his hat across the room, Frisbee style, nailing Conrad in the shoulder. “Are you doing okay, brother?”

  Conrad plucked the hat from the floor and tossed it on the table alongside his half-eaten bowl of ratatouille. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Oh, I don’t know…” Malcolm lowered his chair legs to the ground again. “Maybe because your ex-wife is in town and you haven’t stopped looking at her on that video monitor since we got in here.”

  “She’s not my ex-wife yet.” He resisted the urge to snap and further put a damper on their lunch. “Anybody up for a quick game of cards?”

  Donavan winced. “So you can clean me out again?”

  Malcolm hauled his chair back to the table. “Now who’s whining?”

  Pulling his eyes if not his attention off Jayne, Conrad swept aside the dishes and reached for a deck of cards.

  Between their freelance work for Interpol and their regular day jobs, there was little time left to hang out like they’d done during the old days. Damn unlucky for him one of those few occasions happened to be now, when they were all around to witness the final implosion of his marriage.

  And what if he didn’t get one last night with Jayne? What if he had to spend the rest of his life with this hunger gnawing at his gut every time a blonde woman walked by? Except no woman, regardless of her hair color, affected him the way Jayne did.

  No matter what he told his brothers, he was not okay. But damn it, he would be tonight after the concert when he lay Jayne back on that sofa and made her his again.

  * * *

  Jayne hadn’t been on a date in three years, not even to McDonald’s with a friend. How ironic that her first post-separation outing with a man would be with her own estranged husband. And he’d taken her to a black-tie charity concert on the Côte d’Azur—the French Riviera.

  Although she had to admit, his idea of finding a peaceful middle ground had merit—even if he’d all but blackmailed her to gain her cooperation.

  At least seated in the historic opera house she could lose herself in the crowd, simply sit beside Conrad and enjoy the music, without worrying about temptation or messy conversations. Malcolm Douglas sang a revamp of some 1940s tune, accompanying his vocals on the grand piano. His smooth baritone voice washed over her as effortlessly as the glide of Conrad’s fingers on her shoulder. So what if her husband had draped his arm along the back of her seat? No big deal.

  In fact, she’d been surprised at how little pressure he’d put on her throughout the day, especially after their intense discussions, their potent attraction, the night before. Waking up alone was one thing. But then to have him spend the entire day away from her…

  His amenability was good. Wasn’t it?

  That niggling question had grown during the rest of the afternoon without him. Lunchtime passed and she started to question if she’d heard his offer of a date correctly. Except Hillary had mentioned it, as well. Then the staff brought a selection of evening wear in her size. She’d chosen a silver gown with bared shoulders, the mild winter only requiring a black satin wrap.

  By the time Conrad arrived at their suite to pick her up, her nerves had been strung so tightly, she was ready to jump out of her skin. The sight of him in a tuxedo, broad shoulders filling out the coat to mouthwatering perfection, had just been downright unfair. All the way to the limo, she’d thought he would make his move, only to find Troy and Hillary Donavan waiting in the limousine, ready to go out to dinner with them before the concert. But then hadn’t Hillary said Troy and Conrad were having some kind of reunion?

  The evening had been perfect.

  And perfectly frustrating.

  Conrad’s thumb grazed the sensitive crook of her neck, along the throb of her pulse. Did he know her heart beat faster for him? Her breath hitched in her throat.

  Hillary leaned toward her and whispered, “Are you all right?”

  Wincing,
Jayne resisted the urge to shove Conrad’s arm away. “I’m fine, just savoring.”

  Savoring the feel of Conrad’s hand on her bare skin.

  Damn it.

  He shifted in his seat, his fingers stroking along the top of her arm and sending shivers along her spine. She struggled not to squirm in her seat and draw Hillary’s attention again. But that was getting tougher and tougher to manage by the second. He had to know what he was doing.

  Still, if he’d been trying to seduce her, he could have been a lot more overt, starting with ditching the other couple. Her mind filled with vivid memories of the time he’d reserved a private opera box for a performance of La Bohème and made love to her with his hand under her dress.

  Only one of the many times he’d diverted an argument with sex.

  Yet now, he turned her down. Why?

  The lights came up for intermission, and Conrad’s arm slid away as he applauded. She bit her lip to keep from groaning.

  He stood then angled back down to her. “Do you and Hillary mind keeping each other company while Troy and I talk shop? He’s developing some new software to prevent against hackers at the casino.”

  “Of course I don’t mind.” She’d given up the right to object when she’d walked out on him three years ago. Soon, their breakup would be official and legal.

  “Thanks,” he said, cupping her face in a warm palm for an instant before straightening. At the last second, he glanced back over his shoulder. “I didn’t think it was possible, but you look even more beautiful than the night we saw La Bohème.”

  Her mouth fell open.

  The reference to that incredible night had been no accident. Conrad had known exactly what he was doing. No doubt, her savvy husband had planned his every move all day with the express purpose of turning her inside out. The only question that remained?

  Had he done so just for the satisfaction of turning her down again? Or did he want to ensure she wouldn’t back away at the last second?

  Either way, two could play that game.

  Four

  Conrad downshifted his Jaguar as he took the curve on the coastal road, Jayne in the passenger seat.

  After the concert ended, he’d sent Troy and Hillary off in the limo, his Jaguar already parked and waiting for the next part of his plan to entice Jayne. She’d always loved midnight rides along the shore and since neither of them seemed able to sleep much, this longer route home seemed the right idea for his campaign to win her over.

  When he took her back to the penthouse, he wanted to make damn sure they were headed straight for bed. Or to the rug in front of the fireplace.

  Hell, against the wine rack was fine by him as long as he had Jayne naked and in his arms. The day apart after the fireworks last night seemed to have worked the way he’d hoped, giving the passion time to simmer. Even after three years away from each other, he understood the sensual side of her at least.

  He glanced over at her, moonlight casting a glow around her as she toyed with her loose blond hair brushing her shoulders. His fingers itched to comb through the silky strands. Soon, he promised himself, looking back at the winding cliff road. Very soon.

  She touched his arm lightly. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather visit with Malcolm tonight?”

  Instead of being with her?

  Not a chance.

  “And steal Malcolm away from his groupies?” He kept his hand on the gearshift, enjoying the feel of her touch on him. Too bad the dash lights shone on her empty ring finger. “Even I wouldn’t be that selfish.”

  “If you’re certain.” Her hand trailed away, searing him with a ghostly caress.

  His hand twitched as he shifted into fourth. He winced at the slight grind to the finely tuned machine. “We had a chance to shoot the breeze this afternoon with Troy.”

  “Malcolm seems so different when he’s away from the spotlight.” She stretched her legs out in front of her, kicking off her silvery heels and wriggling her painted toes under the light blast of the heater. “It’s difficult to reconcile the guy in holey blue jeans jamming on the guitar in your living room to the slick performer in suits and ties, crooning from the piano.”

  “Whatever gets the job done.” He forced his eyes back on the road before he drove them over a cliff. “You and Hillary seem to have hit it off.”

  “I enjoyed the day with her, and it was nice to have another woman’s opinion when I picked out which dress to wear tonight.” She trailed her thumb along her bared collarbone, her black wrap having long ago slipped down around her waist.

  The silver gown glistened in the glow of the dash, all but begging him to pull over and devote his undivided attention to peeling off the fitted bodice….

  Eyes on the road.

  He guided the Jag around another curve, yacht lights glinting on the water far below.

  She angled her head to the side. “What are you thinking about?”

  Nuh-uh. Not answering that one. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Um, hello?” She laughed dryly. “Exactly what you intended for me to think about. The night we went to see La Bohème.”

  How neatly she’d turned the tables on him.

  He liked that about her, the way she took control, too, which reminded him of how she’d seduced him in his favorite chair once they’d gotten home from La Bohème. “That was a, uh, memorable evening.”

  “Not everything about our marriage was bad,” she conceded.

  “Italian opera will always hold a special place in my heart.”

  Except he’d thrown out that damn chair when she left, then found he had to pitch most of the rest of his furniture as well, including the dining-room table, which also held too many sensual memories of her making her way panther-style toward him with a strawberry in her mouth. The only place they’d never made love was in that tomato-red room since she’d said it was meant for guests, which somehow made it off-limits for sex.

  She inched her wrap back up and around her shoulders, the night having dipped to fifty degrees. “I thought Don Giovanni was your favorite opera.”

  “The story of a hero landing in hell for his sins?” Appropriate. “A longtime favorite. Although I’m surprised you remember that I liked it.”

  “You remembered that I prefer cream cheese pastries and chocolate mint tea for breakfast.”

  He’d made a mental note of many things she liked back then, working his ass off to keep her happy as he felt their marriage giving way like a sandy cliff. “We were together for four years. I intended to be with you for the rest of my life.”

  “And you think I didn’t?” Pain coated her words, as dark as the clouds shifting over the stars. “I wanted to build a family with you.”

  Another of her dreams he’d crushed. The ways he’d failed this woman just kept piling on, compacting his frustration until he was ready to explode.

  Not trusting himself to drive, he pulled off the road and into a deserted rest area. He set the emergency brake and wished the anger inside him was as easy to halt. Anger at himself. “I gave you a puppy, damn it.”

  “I wanted a baby.”

  “Okay…” He angled toward her, half hoping she would slap his face, anything but stare at him with tears in her eyes. “Let’s make a baby.”

  She flattened her hands to his chest, hard, stopping just shy of that slap he’d hoped for. Although a telltale flex of her jaw relayed her rising temper. “Don’t you dare mock me or my dreams. That’s not fair.”

  “I’m very serious about being with you.”

  “So you stay away from me all day?” she shouted, her fingers twisting in the lapels of his tuxedo. “You stay away for three whole years?”

  Her question stopped him cold. “That bothered you?”

  “For three years you ignored my attempts to contact you.” She shoved free and leaned against the door, arms crossed under her breasts, which offered too beautiful a view. “Did you or did you not manipulate me on purpose today?”

  He chose his
words carefully, determined to get through the tough stuff so they could make love without the past hovering over them. “I figured we both needed space after last night if there was any chance of us enjoying our evening together.”

  “That makes sense,” she conceded.

  “I’m a logical man.” He rested a hand on the back of her seat, his fingers dangling a whisper away from her hair. He was so damn close to having her, he could already taste her.

  “You may think you’re logical, but I don’t understand half of what you do, Conrad. I do know that if you’d really loved me, truly wanted to stay married, you would have been honest. Whatever game you’re playing now, it has nothing to do with love.” Words tumbled from her faster and faster as if overflowing from a bottle. “You just don’t want to lose. I’m another prize, a contest, a challenge. The way you’ve played me today and for three years? It’s a game to you.”

  “I can assure you,” he said softly, his fingers finally—thank God—finally skimming along her silky hair. “I consider the stakes to be very high. I am not in the mood to play.”

  “Then what are you doing? Because this back and forth, this torment, has nothing to do with peace.”

  “I have to agree.” He traced her ear, down to the curve of her neck.

  Her eyes slid closed and the air all but crackled. “Are you doing this to make me stay?”

  “I told you what I want. A chance for us to say goodbye.” He thumbed the throbbing pulse along her neck, his body going hard at the thought of her heart beating faster for him. “Leaving was your choice, not mine, but after three years I get that you mean business.”

  Her lashes fluttered open, her blue eyes pinning him. “And you really accept my decision.”

  “You were yelling at me about thirty seconds ago.” He outlined her lips, her breath hot against his palm.

  “Are you accusing me of being a shrew?” She nipped his finger.

  He forgot to breathe. “I would never say that.”

  “Why not? I’ve called you a bastard and worse.”