The Billionaire Claims His Wife. Amy Andrews

are long gone.’

      Nathan noticed the determined jut of her chin and the hardening of her toffee eyes. Yes, they were. They seemed about a million years ago now. He pushed away from the doorframe. ‘I’ll be right back.’

      He climbed into his trousers and his business shirt, doing up three buttons, rolling up the sleeves, not bothering to tuck it in. He joined Jacqui in her braless singlet and hemp pants, feeling way overdressed.

      He smiled to himself as she swiped at some egg yolk that had dripped down her chin. ‘You are a disgrace to hippies everywhere—you know that, don’t you?’ he said as he took a seat opposite.

      ‘Not all hippies are veggies,’ she protested.

      ‘Just as well.’ He grinned, enjoying how she devoured her food. He’d used to love watching her eat. Like everything else, she did it with gusto. ‘They would have revoked your card years ago.’

      Jacqui savoured the salty flavour of the free-range bacon and the warm squelch of locally churned butter, ignoring Nate’s familiar patter. He’d always teased her about her lackadaisical approach to the alternate lifestyle she’d embraced in her teens. A ‘hybrid hippy’, he had affectionately called her.

      ‘Mmm, but it tastes sooooo good,’ she said shutting her eyes in rapture. At the moment eating was preferable to thinking. Eating gave her a focus other than Nate’s preposterous statement.

      Nathan shook his head and smiled at the look of bliss on her face. The corner of her mouth glistened with a smear of butter that in another time and place he would have taken great pleasure in removing with his tongue. Her corkscrew russet curls framed her face in the same wild abandon they had a decade ago, and she looked so happy, so sated. Like a goddess.

      The hippy goddess of abundance.

      ‘How did I end up with you?’ he mused.

      Jacqui opened her eyes and stared into his puzzled gaze. His beautifully sculpted lips sported a Mona Lisa smile. Their gazes locked, and for a moment neither of them said anything, contemplating their wild glory days when neither of them had needed anything but each other.

      ‘I don’t know, Nate. I don’t know.’

      Nathan’s stomach grumbled and he broke their eye contact, helping himself to some toast and placing an egg on top. As hungry as he was, he didn’t think it wise to pile up his plate after two days of starvation. Jacqui was right, though, it did taste good. Damn good. He could feel the residual weakness from the flu virtually disappearing as he ate, the restorative effects of protein, carbohydrates and coffee making him feel bulletproof again. Preparing him for the verbal sparring to come.

      ‘So, I take it that’s your Porsche bogged down the road a bit?’ Everyone who had come into the clinic on Saturday had reported the unusual sighting.

      He looked up at her and nodded. ‘Is it okay?’

      Jacqui frowned. ‘Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?’

      ‘Sports cars attract attention.’

      She laughed. ‘Isn’t that the point?’

      ‘Sometimes not the good kind.’

      ‘This is hardly the Bronx, Nate. Don’t worry, your mid-life-crisis toy is safe here.’

      Nathan chuckled, well used to her disdain for the trappings of wealth. ‘What makes you think my car represents a mid-life crisis?’

      Jacqui shrugged. ‘You’re forty-two and you’re here.’

      He laughed again. ‘Sorry to disappoint. I’m crisis-free.’

      Although that wasn’t entirely true. He did have a problem or two. One she could help him with. The other … that odd, restless feeling that kept rearing its ugly head … that was best left undefined. Best left well alone.

      ‘Well, the car certainly doesn’t represent option number two.’

      ‘Oh?’

      ‘Yes—you know. The I’m-compensating-for-a-lack-of-what-I-have-in-my-shorts toy.’ God knew she’d been reminded of that too often this weekend.

      This time Nate roared laughing. ‘No. Nothing Freudian about it.’

      Jacqui had forgotten how magnificent his laugh was, and she felt goosebumps feather her skin and her nipples tighten in blatant response to his sexy baritone. She watched over the rim of her coffee mug as the crinkles around his eyes and mouth relaxed. But the amusement still sparkled in his jade gaze.

      God, she’d missed this. Sharing a meal with him.

      She placed her coffee mug down on the table. Time to lay their cards on the table. Her stomach was full and he was dressed. She couldn’t bear the suspense any longer.

      ‘Okay, Nate. Spill. Why the bizarre request?’

      Nathan watched her watching him, her gaze wary. Would she listen to him? Would she hear him out? Would she agree? ‘I have a … problem only you can help me with.’

      Jacqui’s heart started drumming in her chest. It seemed so loud in the intense silence that followed his statement it was real competition for the rain on the roof. Surely he could hear it? ‘Go on.’

      ‘You ever heard of a guy called Vince Slater?’

      Jacqui frowned, the name vaguely familiar. ‘Some rich old guy who’s on to wife number six?’

      Nathan chuckled. Good summation. Except he was also a world-renowned financial genius, with razor-sharp business acumen and the Midas touch. And a friend.

      ‘That’s the guy. He’s agreed to join the executive of TrentFertility, which will put us in a very strong position for the float.’ He looked at Jacqui, looking at him as if he was speaking in tongues. ‘You do know about the float?’

      Jacqui nodded. Her mother kept her up to date with all Nate’s goings on. She received regular clippings from the nation’s newspapers, all featuring Nate’s very commanding presence.

      TrentFertility was about to go public.

      ‘Of course. We do have TV and newspapers out here, you know.’

      He ignored her sarcasm. ‘This is big for me. Bigger than anything else I’ve done.’ She needed to understand that he wasn’t asking anything of her lightly.

      Jacqui heard the hard edge in his voice. He wanted this badly. ‘I don’t understand. Why do you need Vince? Surely you have enough money of your own? Why do you need his financial backing?’

      Nathan shook his head. ‘It’s not about his money. It’s about confidence. Market confidence. Vince is a seasoned executive. He’s known and well thought of in all the right business and financial sectors. He has experience, and a reputation for shrewd fiscal choices. Stockmarkets, particularly in the last few years, are notoriously jittery. Having him on board will be a ringing endorsement for TrentFertility.’

      Jacqui listened to Nathan’s clinical assessment of Vince Slater’s attributes and felt chilled by how detached he sounded. ‘So billionaire doctor, top of the rich list isn’t enough for you?’

      Nathan stalled. She didn’t get it. She’d never got it. A nerve jumped at the angle of his jaw. ‘Like I said, it’s not about the money, Jacqueline.’

      She sighed at his stiff response. She, more intimately than anyone, knew that. She understood the demons that had driven him to push himself beyond just a career in medicine. She had been party to all his young-man dreams, his drive to make something of himself beyond just plain Dr Nathan Trent.

      The hand-to-mouth existence of his childhood, when he’d been forced to live out of the family car for a while after his father’s bankruptcy and subsequent suicide, working three jobs to put himself through med school, had hand-tooled him to build the medical empire he resided over today.

      Twenty