She sauntered into the lounge room with ten minutes to spare, determined to put what had happened at the beach aside and forget that he’d been watching her for who knew how long while she showered. She wasn’t here to rehash old hurts or rekindle passions. She was here to smile, look pretty, act devoted and leave with her divorce papers.

Nathan was waiting, his back to her, admiring the view, and her stomach did a little flop at the broadness of his shoulders and the sculpted contours of his butt, displayed perfectly in tailored trousers.

“I’m ready,” she said, annoyed at the husky tremor in her usually rock-steady voice.

Nathan turned and despite the distance between them his thorough head-to-toe left her feeling as if he had touched her. He had the top two buttons of his shirt undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and she was gripped by the urge to do a little touching of her own.

“And worth the wait,” he murmured.

And she was. Jacqui’s individual flair for fashion was in full swing. Her kaftan-type dress somehow combined tie-dye with geometrical patterns and with her height it gave an Aztec priestess vibe. She wore large hoop earrings and no make-up. The V neckline hinted at a cleavage and an intricate belt made from loops of fine gold chain and a network of what looked like coins cinched the garment in at the waist.

“Great belt.”

Jacqui looked down. “Thanks. I bought it an antique market in Turkey years ago.” She fingered the elaborate piece. “I loved it so much I took up belly dancing.”

Nathan had a mental image of a veiled Jacqui dressed in harem pants, gyrating her hips and undulating her belly. He wanted to cancel dinner and eat her instead.

He cleared his suddenly dry throat forcing his legs to walk to the drinks cabinet and pick up her cocktail. “Martini?”   

Jacqueline shook her head as he advanced towards her, the drink already mixed, complete with the olive he knew she loved. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Nate?”

Nathan chuckled as he drew close enough to lean in and kiss her. He smiled and handed it to her. “Dirty,” he said. “Just the way you like it.”

Jacqui swallowed and took the proffered drink mainly for something to do with her hands other than yanking him closer. There was a charge in the air between them tonight, a vibe, and that wasn’t why she was here. Even if he did look so good she wanted to smash the drink against his giant glass window and do him on the floor.

Martini’s weren’t the only thing she liked dirty.

She took a gulp of the clear liquid. A great big one. The gin kicked in immediately. She picked up the olive and sucked on it, barely noticing the bite of vermouth as his heated gaze zeroed in on her mouth, skewering her to the spot more effectively then the tooth-pick through the olive.

Oh god. She’d told him she wasn’t going to sleep with him. And she meant it. But if they kept this up - this pseudo-sexual dance - then she was kidding herself that this night was going to end anywhere else but in his bed. If they even got that far. This had to stop.