The Billionaire Claims His Wife. Amy Andrews

At some stage he had moved onto his back, pushed the blanket down to his hips, exposing his smooth, bare chest and only just covering what lay a little further south. The long leg closest to the edge of the couch jutted out too, escaping its covering, its foot flat on the floor. The opposite arm was thrown up over his head, his face turned away from her, pressing into the bulk of his bicep.

      Dear God, he was gorgeous. She’d tried not to look before, as she’d been undressing him, but now she couldn’t stop. Maturity had given his body an edge, a hardness that youth hadn’t. He’d always had a good body, but now he looked … fit. More honed. As if he worked at it now instead of relying on a God-given gift.

      He murmured and turned his head, and she held her breath. His eyes fluttered open. The clocks stopped. The rain faded. Her breath stuttered to a halt. It took a second or two for those incredible jade eyes to focus on her.

      ‘Thirsty,’ he croaked.

      It took another beat or two for her functions to return. She sucked in a breath. ‘Right. Okay. Be right back.’

      Nathan watched her leave, trying to figure out where he was and why Jacqui was here. But his head felt as if it was stuffed with cotton wool, and it hurt too much to think anyway. He sat up and the room shifted. He vaguely felt Shep lick his calf as he buried his forehead in his hands and waited for everything to stop moving.

      Jacqueline entered the room and paused momentarily. He looked even more imposing sitting upright, his back and chest and both legs exposed, the duvet bunched around his hips.

      ‘Take these,’ she said, injecting a businesslike note into her voice, forcing herself closer. She nudged his hand with the glass, two pills on the flat of her palm.

      ‘What are they?’ he asked, looking at them.

      ‘Cold and flu tablets.’

      Nathan reached for them as they swam out of focus. He located them through sheer force of will. He felt as if someone had been lighting spot fires in his joints, and would have taken any pill she’d given him to extinguish the flames. He pushed them past his lips, into a mouth that tasted sour and furry, and gulped the whole glass down.

      ‘Thanks,’ he murmured, collapsing back against his makeshift bed as a coughing spasm took hold. The aches intensified, pulsing in protest as each cough tore through his spine, his chest, his head.

      Jacqueline frowned. The cough sounded nasty. Maybe it was more than the flu? Maybe he’d managed to give himself bilateral pneumonia in the pouring rain last night? She left him for a moment and retrieved her medical bag from the clinic downstairs.

      His eyes were shut when she returned. She opened her bag, pulled out her stethoscope, and perched herself on the edge of his couch. She rubbed the stethoscope in her hands to warm it, and then placed it on his still exposed chest.

      Nathan opened his eyes. Jacqui. Jacqui was still here. ‘What are you doing?’ he murmured.

      ‘That cough sounds nasty. Just checking your lung fields,’ she said briskly. ‘Sit up.’ She grabbed his arm and pulled.

      Nathan couldn’t muster the energy to resist. ‘It’s just the flu,’ he protested. He was a doctor, damn it. He knew flu when it had the audacity to invade his usually impenetrable immune system.

      Her long fingers felt heavenly against his skin, the wide bands of her rings like icicles. He studied the chunky jewellery adorning her fingers. The intertwined strands of metal set with earthy stones took him way back, to days when they’d eaten spaghetti straight from the tin before crashing together in a tangle of limbs after night duty. When they’d stayed up late eating honey toast and watching old black and white horror films in bed.

      ‘I could have given you diamonds,’ he muttered.

      But even his feverish brain recalled she hadn’t given a damn about diamonds. It had been her funky eclectic style, sourced from garage sales and op shops, that had attracted him all those years ago. And cheap and cheerful still looked better on her than any diamond on any woman he’d ever seen.

      Jacqui heard his voice rumble through her earpieces as she moved the stethoscope around his back, but his eyes were shut and she dismissed the odd statement as his temperature talking. His skin was warm under her touch, and the urge to rub her cheek against his oh-so-close shoulder was surprisingly powerful.

      ‘It sounds clear,’ she murmured, pushing him gently back and out of reach.

      Nathan shut his eyes, the effort to sit up rendering him completely exhausted. He was drifting off when something was pushed into his ear canal. ‘Hey,’ he protested, opening his eyes.

      ‘Shh. It’s just a thermometer,’ Jacqueline said, pulling the tympanic device out of his ear and looking at the digital display. ‘Thirty-eight point nine degrees.’

      Nathan looked at her for a long moment, trying to work out why his wife was here. Jacqui was here? ‘I s’pose I should be grateful you only stuck it in my ear,’ he murmured, before the effort to keep his eyes open became too much again.

      Jacqueline rolled her eyes at the old vet joke she’d heard a thousand times. She looked down at him. His stubble was heavier now, but no less fascinating. She sighed. He’d drifted off again. He was bound to do that for probably most of the day—maybe even tomorrow as well. So she’d better get used to him lying on her couch looking all shaggy and fascinating. It was going to be a very long weekend indeed.

      Saturday evening, after a slow, rainy day in her clinic, and multiple trips up the stairs to check on Nathan, Jacqueline put an Enya CD on low, collapsed on the couch opposite a still sleeping Nathan and an ever-present Shep, and opened her book. Not that she could get into it. Her gaze kept flicking to his face, checking on him. His lashes, so long they cast shadows she could see from across the room on his cheekbones, were endlessly fascinating.

      An hour later she realised she’d read the same page over and over. The clock said eight and the evening stretched ahead of her. She looked at him again, and was startled to find him looking back at her.

      ‘Hi,’ he said.

      ‘Hi.’ Neither of them said anything for a moment. ‘Are you feeling better?’ His gaze was clearer; the fevered glitter it had been sporting since he’d landed on her doorstep had dulled.

      Nathan shook his head, and winced as his neck protested the sudden movement. ‘Marginally.’

      ‘Are you hungry? I can make you something. Some toast, maybe?’

      He gave a weak smile. ‘Ah, toast. Jacqui’s cure for everything.’ He knew she would have been happy to eat tea and toast the rest of her life. It was like the sixth food group to her. His stomach turned at the mere thought of food. ‘Pass.’

      She ignored his dig. ‘You’re due a couple more tablets.’

      Good. His sore throat had settled, and he didn’t think his head was in imminent danger of exploding from his shoulders, but he did feel as if he’d gone ten rounds with a giant. ‘Where’s your bathroom?’ he asked.

      ‘Out the door to the left.’

      Nathan sat gingerly. He took a moment to gather his energy and stood, his legs disgustingly weak. A wave of dizziness hit him square in the solar plexus, distracting him momentarily from the sudden realisation that he was naked. And then Jacqui was there, holding him around the waist, the thin multi-coloured bangles adorning her wrists jangling, the metal of her rings cool against his heated flesh. He figured it wasn’t anything she hadn’t already seen a thousand times before.

      ‘Sorry.’ He grimaced.

      Jacqui swallowed, her face hot. Was he apologising for needing her, or for his full-frontal nudity? ‘It’s fine. Just hold on to me.’

      He allowed her to lead him to the toilet, and while he was taking care of business she placed his clean underwear and a spare toothbrush on the vanity. She hovered outside the bathroom, waiting for him to finish, relieved to see him slightly less