Reclaiming My Wife

by Jessica Blake

  CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  FREE BOOK OFFER

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  EPILOGUE

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  A SNEAK PEEK

  MORE BY JESSICA BLAKE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  COPYRIGHT AND DISCLAIMER

  Reclaiming My Wife

  FREE BOOK OFFER

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  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  We were young and stupid then. We’re older and wiser now. But some things never change.

  Eight years ago, she was the only woman to heat my blood and make me lose all my senses. I gave her my last name, but within a year, it was over.

  Now, she’s back in my life and wants the divorce that was never finalized. I want that too, after I get what’s mine.

  True, I’m not the same college boy she’d married, and she’s not the wild, carefree woman I could never tame. But I still burn for her, and now that she’s back on my ranch, this cowboy will do whatever it takes to melt his ice princess.

  ***This is a full-sized STANDALONE novel with an HEA and NO CLIFFHANGERS.***

  CHAPTER ONE

  Jillian

  It was the kind of dinner that Don would undoubtedly consider to be romantic.

  The kind with dimly lit candlelight dancing in hurricane glasses on the ends of the wooden tables covered with plastic checkboard cloths. The evening was still early, so the restaurant was hardly crowded, even on a Friday. When Don mentioned that he was taking me out to a nice steak dinner, I thought he was planning to take me to Arman’s. The city’s newest steak restaurant was all the rage, and I’d been talking about it for weeks.

  Instead, I got a chain restaurant with a kid’s menu, green and blue crayon covering the walls next to me. Apparently, the color choices were limited. I felt a little sorry for the kids that had a budding artist inside of them but couldn’t color a brown tree trunk or a yellow sun. My steak had been overcooked and over-seasoned, and even though I wanted to say something, my date had already berated the waitress nearly to tears, so I sipped the cheap wine and focused on my salad, trying to be grateful.

  I needed to be grateful for everything in my life, I reminded myself.

  Because I knew just how quickly things could fall apart.

  “Jill, if you’re going to order the most expensive thing on the menu, you should at least act like you’re enjoying it,” Don said, disapproval sparking from his eyes as he swirled his wine glass and inspected the contents closely.

  I wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to inspect every single damn refill. It all came from the same twelve-dollar bottle, after all. But I didn’t say a word. Instead, I just smiled at him and wondered for the hundredth time what I was doing there.

  Dr. Don Augusta had been “courting me” for several months now. He was a good-looking man nearly fifteen years my senior with gray hairs around the temple that accented his fake tan. He taught a few classes at my university, but he had a high-priced private therapy practice that he was still trying to get off the ground, and he had his sights set on a more powerful position at the university. His reputation was well-known in the academic community, and since I was finishing my dissertation, I appreciated that connection. He knew it, and it didn’t seem to bother him. In fact, he seemed to feed off his power over me.

  Power or not, there was no spark. No chemistry. His kisses were as dry and boring as our conversation, and we’d yet to darken a bedroom door. But he was stable, and I needed that more than I needed passion and romance.

  “Sorry. I guess I’m just not that hungry yet.” Probably because it was two hours before a normal dinnertime, but I didn’t say that either. Don did not like criticism.

  When I first enrolled in school, I tried several times to get into one of his classes, but I was always dropped at the last minute. It wasn’t until my last semester that I discovered he had a personal interest in me. He had been so kind at the time, and I’d been extremely flattered. And more importantly, he’d been safe. Secure. Which was exactly what I’d needed in my life. At least that was what I kept telling myself.

  We’d taken things slow in the beginning, which had been perfect for me, and apparently, for him as well. Now that all I had left was my dissertation and my work-study job at the local therapy clinic before starting my internship next year, I had more time on my hands, but our relationship wasn’t going any faster.

  I was beginning to wonder if it ever would. Would my heart ever beat faster when he walked into a room? Would I ever find myself fantasizing about him? Dreaming about him?

  As I watched him sniff the wine again, I doubted it very much.

  Which was fine.

  I’d had my fill of fast-tracked relationships anyway. Not that I’d had that many experiences with those either.

  Just one…

  I mentally shook the memory away and was reaching for my wine glass when my phone vibrated. Don frowned when I picked it up, but I ignored him. He always wanted me to give him my undivided attention, but he never had a single qualm about answering his phone during a date.

  “It’s Cindy.” I flashed him an apologetic smile. “I should take it.” Before he could respond, I scooted back my chair and stood. Skirting the tables, I headed to the exit and found some privacy outside.

  “Hi, Cindy,” I answered as I sat down on a nearby bench.

  “Jillian! For a minute, I thought you weren’t going to answer. I need you! Can you stop by the house? I’ve already let the guard at the gate know to expect you.”

  Her flustered cries didn’t faze me one bit. In fact, if her voice would have been normal, that would have panicked me. So I took a deep, cleansing breath, and used my most soothing tone in response. “Cindy, I’m in the middle of dinner, and we’ve talked about this. You can deal with situations like this on your own, remember? You don’t need me to come at the drop of a hat. Now, just tell me what happened.”

  Cindy Collins — yes, the Cindy Collins, movie star sensation — considered me her personal therapist even though I didn’t have a practice. I’d happened upon her one night after my best friend dragged me out to Los Angeles’ newest club. I was escaping the stifling dance floor, and Cindy was outside crying. She and her current boyfriend had just called it quits, and when I tried to talk her down from making a scene, I let it slip that I was studying to be a psychologist with a specialty in grief counseling. She immediately put me on her speed dial.

  She called me when her dog ran away, even though it actually never left the backyard.

  She called me wh
en her driver backed into another car in the parking lot.

  She called me when she found her first gray hair.

  The woman was exhausting, but we’d sort of become friends, and I never let her phone call go to voicemail.

  Her sobs grew louder when I firmly told her that I wasn’t coming over. “But… but… have you read the tabloids? They think I’m sleeping with Tony! Like I would ever sleep with a slob like that, but they’re saying it’s how I got my latest movie gig. That I screwed the director!”

  “Breathe, Cindy. Deep breath in, count one, two, three, four. Now out, one, two, three, four,” I said in a soothing, lilting tone. We did this a few times until she stopped hyperventilating. “Good. Now, focus on what you know.”

  She sniffed and inhaled yet another deep breath, very familiar with this practice. “I know that I did not and would never sleep with a man just to get a job. I’m far too talented to have to do that.”

  I tried not to cringe. “Good. Tell me something else that you know.”

  She made a growling noise. “Celebrities Tonight is a crappy magazine and only spouts lies.”

  “That’s good, Cindy. Now, what did we talk about the last time a tabloid focused on you?”

  There was a beat of silence before she sighed. “That the readers know it’s shit, and I shouldn’t worry about it. I must be doing something right if the tabloids are focusing on me. Haters are always going to hate.”

  It wasn’t exactly how I’d put it, but it was close enough. “That’s right. See? Everything is okay. What you need to focus on is your reaction. You know all of this, but you still panic. In situations like this, you need to take a moment and evaluate everything.”

  “You’re right. You’re always right, Jillian. I’m so sorry for ruining your dinner.” She paused, and I could practically hear her wheels turning. “Wait, you’re eating dinner now? Are you with your grandparents or something?”

  Even though I was miles away from her, I blushed and covered my face with my hand. I knew she couldn’t see me, but I didn’t want her to hear the embarrassment in my voice. “No, I’m not with my grandparents, but I do need to get back inside. Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m good. Thanks, Jillian. You always know how to make me feel better.” She gushed her thanks over and over again before I managed to end the phone call. Hurrying back to the table, I tried to ignore Don’s cold silence as I picked up my fork.

  “You might as well get it to go,” he sighed, much too dramatically for the occasion. “It’ll be cold now.”

  “It’s fine, Don. Really.”

  He waved a fork in my direction. “How many times do I have to tell you that your relationship with that woman is damaging to your reputation? You are a serious student with a bright future. She ridicules everything that you’ve worked so hard for, Jill.”

  I hated that he shortened my name. No one had called me Jill since my parents died.

  “We’ve talked about this before, Don. Cindy isn’t officially a client. I don’t charge her, and just because she’s a celebrity doesn’t mean that her issues aren’t real.”

  His lips curved into a judgmental sneer. “So, what was her issue tonight?”

  “That’s confidential, and you know it.” My steak was cold, but I didn’t want to bring up more issues by asking to have it warmed up.

  “Jill, I’m just looking out for your future. I know what I’m talking about, and you need to take my advice if you want to cultivate the kind of clientele that I have. Respectable. You want to be taken seriously by your peers.” He was in full-on lecture mode now, and my teeth were grinding so hard they nearly squeaked. “Perhaps I’ll speak to your advisor on this matter.”

  He was going to talk to my advisor about my friendship with Cindy? That was a little over the top. “I appreciate you wanting to look out for me, but that won’t be necessary,” I said carefully before attempting to distract him. “How’s your salad?”

  “Not likely to give me a heart attack.” He gave my steak a pointed look. “If you keep eating like that…”

  The dinner droned on, and it actually was dinnertime by the time we left the restaurant. Don hadn’t had time to pick me up after his last appointment, so he stayed with me as I hailed a cab and then gave me a dry peck on the lips. As his hands settled around my waist, I waited to feel at least one butterfly in my stomach, but nothing happened.

  Then, when he patted me on the shoulder, any thoughts of romance immediately fizzled. “I’m a man of experience, Jill. You should listen to me.”

  It took all my willpower to keep the smile on my face. “Right. Thank you for dinner. It was lovely.” Before he could lecture me again on the price of the steak, I ducked into the cab and shut the door. After directing the driver to my apartment, I closed my eyes and sighed.

  Don was the first man I’d dated in years. In truth, I didn’t know why I’d even agreed to go out with him except that he was everything my ex-husband wasn’t. Grounded. Stable. Mature.

  Easy.

  With Brendan, there had been nothing but chemistry and enough fire to set the city ablaze. From the moment I laid eyes on him, I’d wanted him, and at the tender age of twenty, I mistook that kind of fire for true love.

  We tore up the sheets before we even went on a date. We married before our first-year anniversary, and then it all fell apart in the worst way. Even now, it pained me to think about it.

  I hadn’t seen Brendan since before the divorce was final, but as much as I wished otherwise, he was never far from my thoughts. The last eight years hadn’t lessened the pain, which was why I’d even agreed to see Don, I supposed. I planned to be a grief counselor, and to achieve that dream, I needed more stability in my life.

  But the stability was quickly becoming like cement wrapped around my feet. Instead of holding me steady, it was holding me hostage.

  And then there was the weight of secrets that also weighed me down. Secrets I simply didn’t want to talk about.

  Like my whirlwind marriage and equally whirlwind divorce.

  Just letting the thought enter my mind caused my teeth to grind together even more, and the butterflies that were missing with Don made themselves known. And the pain…

  Stop it.

  It was always this way. Every time I thought of Brendan, my insides squeezed with longing and missing and regret.

  And the worst part was that I didn’t feel that I could tell anyone about my marriage or divorce. If I was honest, I simply didn’t want to remember that chaotic part of my life. Even after all these years, it still hurt and was still so embarrassing to know that I’d lost my sanity for a while.

  I also wanted a sterling reputation. After all, who wanted a counselor who acted on emotions and raw lust rather than the logic I relied on now? Thankfully, no one thought to ask a single twenty-six-year-old about ex-husbands, and the only person who knew me when I was Mrs. Brendan Ward was my best friend and roommate, Danielle, who knew not to bring it up.

  As soon as I signed the papers, I wasted no time going back to my maiden name, Jillian Quinn. I couldn’t move fast enough to erase my failed marriage and the pain that it had wrought. Shortly after, I enrolled into my duel M.S. and Psy.D program, moved in with Danielle, and never looked back.

  Well, except in my mind.

  “Miss? We’re here.”

  Blinking, I looked out the window and gathered my thoughts. Swiping my credit card, I paid the driver, thanked him, and hurried into the apartment. In the balmy spring evenings, my apartment building had a reputation for attracting loiterers, and they weren’t always harmless high school students bored and looking for a quick thrill. Ignoring the catcalls, I punched in the code for the outside door and hurried to the elevator.

  The third story two-bedroom apartment I shared with Danielle was small, but it was still something I could never afford on my own. Danielle was an executive assistant in a high-end PR firm and made enough money to afford the whole apartment, but I paid her what I could from my pa
rt-time counseling job while still trying to squirrel some money away so I could open my own practice. I had dreams of fast-tracking my career. I needed to know that I could be successful at something.

  Unlocking the door, I walked in and hung my purse on the hook beside it. Danielle’s bag was on the floor, but it didn’t bother me anymore. I was neat, painfully neat if you believed her words, and she was messy. Chaotic. There was a time when I was just like her.

  There was only one light on in the apartment. My light? Which could only mean one thing. Following the mumbled grumblings spilling into the hallway, I inched toward my room and tried not to fall apart at the sight before me.

  All of the clothes in my closet were piled up on my bed, and my shoes were flying out the door. “Danielle,” I whispered in a stricken voice. “Please tell me that’s you, and someone isn’t ransacking me.”

  “Jillian?” She leaned back and squinted. “Why are you back so soon? You were supposed to be at dinner.”

  I snorted and covered my eyes with my hand so I wouldn’t have to witness the mess before me. “I was, but you know how Don is.”

  “Ugh. Don. Dreadful Don. Disappointing Don. Dismal Don. Dowdy Don. Drab…”

  I held up my other hand. “I get the point. And for your information, he took me to a very nice dinner.”

  She fluttered her lips in an exasperated exhale. “Translation, he took you to a very boring dinner. He gave you some sort of lecture, didn’t he? And then gave you a peck on the lips?”

  I pushed some of the clothes away and perched on the bed. “Maybe, but we’re just getting started. We’re still feeling each other out.”

  She rolled her eyes so hard, I thought they might get stuck in the back of her head. “First of all, it’s been months. Second of all, there’s no feeling going on, period. Jillian, I’m happy that you’re finally getting out in the field, but you need someone who will make you swoon. I want to see you coming back with your hair mussed and your lipstick smeared and your clothes all skewed. I want you to tell me salacious stories about making out in the car and maybe a little fingering action in the restaurant.”