Still Mr. And Mrs.

“I hear you’re divorcing her.”

Gabriel Stewart stiffened, and looked up at his grandmother, Evelyn Peters. He loosened his tie, thinking fast. He’d known it was only a matter of time before she broached the subject.

He’d also known she wouldn’t be pleased.

She peered at him over the rim of her reading glasses. “I’m going to take your silence as a yes,” she said. “You are divorcing Rebecca?”

Gabe let out the breath he’d been holding. “Yes.”

Evelyn rose from behind her Queen Anne desk. She walked toward the window and looked out over the grounds of her Palm Springs estate.

“That’s not good, Gabriel.” She clasped her hands behind her back.

His insides twisted. His divorce would be final in a few weeks, and there wasn’t a thing anyone could do to stop it. Not Evelyn. Not even him. Though he’d give anything if it wasn’t so.

“Gabriel, the problem is that you’ve never known what it is that you want.”

“And you do?” he asked incredulously.

“Certainly.” She laughed. “I’m speaking romantically, of course. Having a couple of greatgrandchildren would be nice too. You’ll be a wonderful father. I don’t see why you wouldn’t even discuss the possibility.”

A bitter taste rose in the back of his throat. “I never said I didn’t want kids, only that we should wait awhile. That wasn’t good enough for Rebecca.”

“Yes, well, business is business,” she added, her voice taking on a bored tone. “But the matters of the heart … ah, now that’s a different subject altogether.”

“And?” He knew there had to be more. With his grandmother, there always was. Something told him she was at it again. Once a matchmaker, always a matchmaker.

“I haven’t made it in this man’s world by being stupid,” Evelyn told him. “When I see some
thing worthwhile, I go after it.” She let out a small chuckle.

Over the years, Gabe had naturally accepted his grandmother’s eccentric behavior. It was, well, Evelyn. She had practically raised him after his parents divorced when he was a little boy. Once Ellen, his mother, had left for good, his father had immersed himself in running the family company, not allowing any time for his young son. Evelyn had always been there for him, and he adored her.

Now that she was in her late seventies, Gabe had thought that maybe she’d slow down. But she hadn’t. Not in her personal life, nor in keeping her fingers in running the family business.

“As you know, The Toy Factory,” she went on, “cannot expand into overseas operations without the support of its board members. The company is worth too much.”

Way into the multimillions, Gabriel thought dryly.

“My grandfather started this company, and I intend to see it continue to prosper. Your father ran it until the day he died, and I made a good decision in making you CEO, Gabriel. You’re a good businessman. You’re tough when you have
to be, but honest. I admire those traits in a man. But sometimes you can be rather pigheaded.”

Gabe let out a deep breath. It was coming.

“I matched you with Rebecca once, and—”

“Evelyn, get to the point.”

She leveled her steely gaze right at him. “The board of directors is meeting this week in Chicago with our new partners from England, Chapman and Fox.”

“I know.” His mind was still on Reb.

“Remember how Rebecca captivated Jonathan Fox? He’s made it clear he’s eager to see her again once the talks begin. The negotiations are at such a crucial stage. We need this merger to go through.”

“The divorce will be final in three weeks,” he said. He pushed the thoughts away. The memories of when Reb left still hurt too much.

Evelyn laughed as though it was a minor detail that didn’t even deserve another thought. “Well, postpone it.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Maybe you’ll get lucky and win her back and start that family you know you really want. Whatever you do, do it quickly. The board and our guests are arriving in Palm Springs in a week. They want to see our operations,
visit the plant. It would be nice if Rebecca was here, by your side, as your wife.”

He tried to toss off the idea as a joke. After all, Evelyn had a sense of humor. Warped as it may seem at times. “You’re kidding?”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re a sneaky, meddling old woman. You know that?” he said, in a loving tone.

“No, I’m a romantic. I believe in true love.”

“This won’t work. It didn’t before and it won’t now,” he said. “We had our differences.” Plenty of them. They’d married too quickly. It was the only impulsive, out-of-character thing he’d ever done in his life. They’d married before they had a chance to get to know each other. Before they realized they were so damned wrong together.

“Right now you’re still Mr. and Mrs. Put on a front until the negotiations are over. Make Jonathan happy. Afterward, I’m sure you’ll do what you want. It’s your business. But make it work in the time being, or we could lose everything.”

She pointed a long, bony finger at him. “And you’ll lose the best thing you’ve ever had.”

Despite the persistent ache in his stomach, he knew that Evelyn would get her way.

She always did.

She was swimming in the pool.

Topless.

Even under the protective shadows of a warm spring night in Palm Springs, and clear across the wide yard, Gabe Stewart could tell.

But then some things were hard to miss, he mused. And some things, he thought again as he breathed deep of the gardenia-scented air, were even harder to change.

Like his wildly unconventional wife, Reb, for instance, who thought absolutely nothing of swimming half-naked in his grandmother’s pool.

His wildly unconventional soon-to-be
ex
-wife he reminded himself.

And like how he still wanted her even though
he knew he’d be a damn fool ever to give in to the desire again.

Gabe latched the gate and walked across the wide expanse of perfectly edged lawn, across the intricate, patterned brickwork and concrete decking toward the pool.

Toward trouble.

His heart took off at a wild, untamed pace. Suddenly his mouth went dry, and his palms began to sweat. He removed his suit jacket and shrugged to loosen his taut shoulder muscles. It was way too hot, he thought, although the temperature was a balmy seventy-eight degrees. And he knew it was going to get hotter.

His gaze locked onto Reb’s as she swam toward the shallow end of the pool.

She smiled at him. “Hi, stranger,” she said. Her soft voice slipped around him with a distracting heat.

“Reb.”

He’d forgotten just how breathtaking she was. No, Gabe decided. She was more like fire. All scorching flames, consuming white heat and blazing inferno wrapped up in one seductive body.

He wasn’t surprised that he wanted her. Reb was a beautiful woman. But he was surprised that
she could sap every ounce of emotional energy he had.

And she affected him the same way every time he looked at her. If he got close enough surely he’d get burned.

Just like before.

Rebecca O’Neil Stewart was his wife. At least until their divorce became final in two weeks. Contrary to what Evelyn said—or hoped for. Yet for the sake of The Toy Factory, he was going to have to ask Reb to pretend to be his happy little bride. Even though it might end up killing him in the bargain.

A soft wave of water splashed against the tiled edge of the pool. Her smile seemed to grow wider.

A trickle of sweat inched down his spine. He swore to himself.

He still had no idea what he was going to say to her. It’d been many months since he’d last seen her, since she walked out of his life and filed for divorce. They’d had a huge, ridiculous fight over vacation plans, but the real issue in their breakup had been children. She’d wanted a baby right away, but he’d said it was better to wait, since he wasn’t sure if he even wanted children.

The thought of having children scared him.
After all his only role model had been his father, Charles. And Charles
wasn’t
a role model.

He let out a tight breath to ease the rigid muscles around his chest, his heart, and took a step toward her.

She got out of the pool, not even bothering to reach for one of the towels nearby.

Again, he swore to himself, trying to concentrate on the deep sea-green color of her eyes.

And nothing else.

She stood on tiptoe to graze his cheek with a kiss, but he pulled back before her lips touched him.

He detected a slight hint of jasmine, the perfect aphrodisiac, lingering on the dry air. The heady aroma began to cloud his thinking.

The fragrance, clearly hers, came to him followed by other memories of their short time together. She’d been alternately wild and free-spirited, then sweet and innocent, while he had been steadily conservative and conventional. He’d wanted to take care of her for the rest of her life though Reb had made it abundantly clear she didn’t need him or anyone else.

She smiled, seemingly unaffected by his rebuff.

“Where do you think you are, swimming topless?”
He wrapped a thick towel around her, and pulled the ends tight. “The French Riviera or Rio?”

The greeting in her eyes contained a sensuous flame that still made his heart pound even faster in his chest.

The towel slipped down one shoulder, exposing the smoothness of her skin.

“Do you think I have any secrets left from you?” she asked, indicating her state of undress.

Gabe’s muscles tightened with a sudden need that surprised him. “It’s not that. It’s … well, convention, Reb. It’s just not proper.”

“Oh, you mean my swimming half-naked?” Her voice turned husky and warm.

“I know I’ve been accused of being overly cautious,” he muttered. “But you seem to think that life is just one fantasy adventure after another.”

“Sorry, darling,” she said. “I got the imperial summons so late. I jetted in from Phoenix as quick as I could. I hardly had time to throw a few things together. I forgot to pack a suit.”

“Right.”

“What else could I do?”

“Rebecca, this is hardly the time or place to be—”

“Oh, Gabe. I see you’re still the same.” She rubbed the towel over the top of her arms. “Conservative, stubborn.” She let out an impatient sigh. “Especially when you use my full name. I’m surprised you didn’t use my middle name. Unless you’ve forgotten it.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” He let out a small chuckle. “And I see you’re the same too,
Rebecca Ann.
In more ways than one.”

She glanced at him, her gaze dancing with mischief. She turned her back and proceeded to dry the rest of herself off. “Oh, so you did notice.”

He almost choked. How could he not notice?

The length of her tanned thighs stretched beyond the bottom of the towel, and the soft glow of her skin, skin that he knew would feel like satin under the brush of his fingers, certainly got his attention.

A man would have to be blind not to notice.

So he quickly looked away, telling himself that he was immune. No matter what she said. No matter what she did. She’d made it clear to him where they stood in their relationship a long time ago. She wanted one thing, he another. And nothing had changed.