She stiffened, the flush spreading down her neck to highlight the lush valley of her breasts.
‘The feeling’s mutual,’ she said. The snotty tone was a surprise.
He buried his fists into his pants pockets. The last thin thread controlling his temper about to snap.
Where the heck did she get off, being pissed with him? He’d been the injured party in their two-second marriage. She’d flaunted herself, come on to him, had him panting after her like a dog that whole summer—hooked him like a prize tuna by promising to love, honour and obey him, no matter what. Then she’d run back to daddy at the first sign of trouble. Not that he’d been dumb enough to really believe those breathless promises. He’d learned when he was still a kid that love was just an empty sentiment. But he had been dumb enough to trust her.
/>
And now she had the gall to turn up at his place, under a false name, expecting him to be polite and pretend what she’d done was okay.
Whatever her problem was, he wanted no part of it. But he’d let her play out this little drama before he slapped her down and kicked her the hell out of his life. For good this time.
* * *
Lifting her briefcase onto the table, Xanthe ignored the hostility radiating from the man in front of her. She flipped the locks, whipped out the divorce papers and slapped them on the desk.
Dane Redmond’s caveman act was nothing new, but she was wise to it now. He’d been exactly the same as a nineteen-year-old. Taciturn and bossy and supremely arrogant. Once upon a time she’d found that wildly attractive—because once upon a time she’d believed that lurking beneath the caveman was a boy who’d needed the love she could lavish on him.
That had been her first mistake. Followed by too many others.
The vulnerable boy had never existed. And the caveman had never wanted what she had to offer.
Good thing, then, that this wasn’t about him any more—it was about her. And what she wanted. Which was exactly what she was going to get.
Because no man bullied her now. Not her father, not the board of directors at Carmichael’s and certainly not some overly ripped boat designer who thought he could boss her around just because she’d once been bewitched by his larger-than-average penis.
‘The problem is...’ She threw the papers onto the desk, cursing the tremor in her fingers at that sudden recollection of Dane fully aroused.
Do not think about him naked.
‘My father’s solicitor, Augustus Greaves, failed to file the paperwork for our divorce ten years ago.’
She delivered the news in a rush, to disguise any hint of culpability. It was not her fault Greaves had been an alcoholic.
‘So we’re still, technically speaking, man and wife.’
CHAPTER THREE
‘YOU HAD BETTER be freaking kidding me!’
Dane looked so shocked Xanthe would have smiled if she hadn’t been shaking quite so hard. That had certainly wiped the self-righteous glare off his face.
‘I’ve come all the way from London to get you to sign these newly issued papers, so we can fix this nightmare as fast as is humanly possible. So, no, I’m not kidding.’
She flicked through the document until she got to the signature page, which she had already signed, frustrated because her fingers wouldn’t stop trembling. She could smell him—that scent that was uniquely his, clean and male, and far too enticing.
She drew back. Too late. She’d already ingested a lungful, detecting expensive cedarwood soap instead of the supermarket brand he had once used.
‘Once you’ve signed here—’ she pointed to the signature line ‘—our problem will be solved and I can guarantee never to darken your door again.’
She whipped a gold pen out of the briefcase, stabbed the button at the top and thrust it towards him like a dagger.
He lifted his hands out of his pockets but didn’t pick up the gauntlet.
‘Like I’d be dumb enough to sign anything you put in front of me without checking it first...’
She ruthlessly controlled the snap of temper at his statement. And the wave of panic.