High-Powered, Hot-Blooded

And then she was gone.

Eleven

Duncan hadn’t been mind-numbingly drunk in years. Probably not since college, when he’d been young and stupid. Now he was older, but apparently just as stupid. He’d avoided work, blown off the last of the holiday parties and had holed up in his condo for three days. Now, hungover, dehydrated and feeling like something that had been dead for a month, he forced himself to shower and get dressed before stumbling into the kitchen and making coffee.

He’d lost before. His first three fights had been a disaster. He’d barely gotten in a single punch. His coach had told him to go find another sport. Maybe baseball, where the only thing that could hit him was the ball. But he hadn’t given up and by his senior year of high school, half a dozen colleges were offering him a free ride.

Taking over the family business hadn’t been easy, either. He’d screwed up dozens of times, losing opportunities because of his youth and inexperience. But he’d persevered and now he had it all. But nothing in his life had prepared him for losing Annie.

Her words haunted him. “The man I love can see into my heart and my soul. He knows who I am. And that’s not you.” He would have preferred her to take out a gun and shoot him. The recovery would have been easier. Or at least faster.

He told himself that the bottom line was she’d left. She’d walked out. Telling him she loved him first only added a level of drama. He should respect that. And he could. The problem was he couldn’t believe it. Annie didn’t play games.

His doorbell rang. His head screamed at the sound. He made his way to the door and pulled it open. Valentina stood there, holding a package.

“This came for you,” she said, handing over the flat box. “I told your doorman I’d bring it up myself.”

She stepped into the condo and looked around. “It looks great, Duncan. I wish you’d kept our old place, though. There was so much room. Still, we can buy something else. Maybe a house, this time.” She moved toward him and lightly kissed him. “How are you? Your assistant said you hadn’t been feeling well. You’re really pale.”

He recognized Annie’s neat writing on the package. As much as he wanted to open it, he wouldn’t until he was alone. He set it on the dining room table, then returned to the kitchen. The coffee was ready.

He poured a cup and took a long drink. When he felt the heated liquid hit his belly, he turned back to face his ex-wife.

Valentina had dressed in winter-white. From her suede boots to her fuzzy sweater, she was a vision of sexual elegance. The woman knew how to wear clothes, he thought. And take them off for anyone interested.

“Why are you here?” he asked, taking another swallow.

“I want to talk to you, Duncan. About us. I meant what I said. I still love you. I want a second chance.”

He looked her up and down. She was still preternaturally an ice queen if there ever was one. At one time she’d been all he’d wanted.

“And if I said I needed to test-drive the merchandise before I made a decision?” he asked.

She smiled. “Anytime.”

“Kids?” She’d never wanted children. Too messy and she ran the risk of screwing up her figure.

“Of course.” She tilted her head. “And a dog. Please. You can’t have children without having pets. They need to learn about responsibility.”

“The kids or the dog?” He reached for his coffee. “Never mind. You’re serious about this?”

“Yes, Duncan. I still love you and am willing to do anything to prove that.”

Uh-huh. “Including signing a prenup? One that gives you absolutely no part of my business or personal fortune. Now or in the future? You wouldn’t get a penny, Valentina. Ever.”

He would guess that Botox shots kept her from frowning, but there was no mistaking the tightening of her mouth or the stiffening of her body.

“Duncan,” she began, then sighed. “Shit.”

He wasn’t even surprised. “So it is about the money.”

“In part,” she admitted. “And proving a point. Eric left me. Me. I was going to end things, but he beat me to it, the bastard. I wanted to prove a point. Show him what he’d lost.”