It was at 35,000 feet, in the middle of a long, quiet journey back to Australia, and Gail Robinson was wide awake in her seat, contemplating what would greet her upon her landing. The cabin was dim, most of her fellow passengers were asleep, but she knew that no sleep would come for her. But at least now she had made a decision, finally, things seemed more manageable. Clarity. That was it – she had had a moment of clarity. The first sensible thing she had thought of in the two weeks she had been away. The first sensible thing, as a matter of fact, she had thought of since she had married Paul Robinson.
She should have been excited, she should have been jumping out of her skin at going to visit Rosemary for the first time and see how the US end of the corporation worked. But those first days after arriving, something inside her seemed so empty. And at the back of her mind she knew the real problem, the real heart of the matter. No matter how long she had tried to resist it. No matter how hard she fought against it. And now she had admitted it to herself, she could only see one option.
She was in love with her husband. Somewhere, amongst the rows, misunderstandings, and the fact that he was ruthless and as ambitious as anyone she had known, she had fallen in love with him. Completely, unreservedly. And unrequitedly. And not being with him – everyday in the office, every evening at home, sleeping across the hallway from him – was so horribly painful she was astonished. Pain lanced her heart when she had spoken to him from Honolulu – imagining him picking up the phone in their lounge. She knew in a few hours she would walk into that very house – the house she had really called home for the last 6 months – and tell him what she wanted. A divorce.
Divorce. Divorce number two, she thought wryly. The end of a business arrangement – the severing of the contract that they had agreed upon. But she had lived in a one sided marriage before and wasn't about to relive another. Paul did not love her. Oh, he was fond of her of course. They were friends, they worked well together. He valued her loyalty. But she couldn't kid herself into thinking there was anything else between them – at least not from him. With Paul it was business, first, second and last.
She did love his family though, and how they had welcomed her into the fold like she had always been one of them. She had felt like such an utter hypocrite – acting out the picture of a normal young married couple. It all got so complicated so fast – and yet no-one seemed to suspect subterfuge on their part at all, taking it for granted that their marriage was the real deal. Her little sister in law, little Lucy, all enthusiasm and guile. Paul's lovely grandmother, Helen, her kind brown eyes regarding her. That disastrous day when Helen had seen that affectionate moment with Glen, and a concerned Helen had asked her if she did love Paul. She hated having to lie to the Robinsons about the true nature of their marriage, she hated the pretending and the acting.
But she was not to know that on the ground in Australia her husband was contemplating the very same thing.
It had been an odd two weeks without her in the house or in the office. He had no idea how much he would miss her presence – she had come such a part of his life it was very strange not to have her there. And he had to admit he was a bit grumpy without her there to talk to. His grandmother had teased him about that very thing, and he grudgingly admitted he missed her. And then grudgingly admitted it to himself. He missed her. He couldn't wait to have her back.
She loved his family, and they were so fond of her. Lucy adored her like an older Sister. Scott loved her. Jim doted on her. He loved that she loved them. He loved that she was so sound in judgment and so diplomatic and how all the staff, from the housemaids to the managers – respected her. He loved that she always found a way to end disagreements, the way she charmed every single person she ever came cross. She was an asset to any organization.
It wasn't until she had been gone ten long days he finally had a moment of peace. Lying in bed at night, he found his thoughts drifting to that night several months ago when she had gone out with that smoothie pilot Glen Matheson. She had come home, smelling slightly of wine and that lovely scent she always wore – it was musky and sophisticated – perfect for her. Her hair was done in a lovely quiff, and as she turned around to take her earrings off, he glimpsed the back of her dress. He couldn't take his eyes off her. It was open, a backless dress, and it left no possibility of anything under it. The curve of her back displayed, her skin as smooth and opaque as caramel. A jolt of lust hit him as he remembered it – she was close enough that he could have touched her. She put a hand lightly on his shoulder, and her lips grazed his cheek. 'Goodnight then', she said, and the door closed between them.
He had stayed in the hallway another couple of moments, frozen. What if he knocked on her door? What would the door open to? She couldn't be interested. Surely. Anyway, what they had was sensible and it worked. He couldn't risk that by trying to sleep with her. He returned to his own bed, but had a restless night, his senses filled with her, as they were now....Thinking of those huge green eyes and that wry grin she always gave him, and her lovely graceful hands. Everything was sophisticated and elegant about her. God she was a lovely looking woman.
And he wanted her. There was hardly any point in denying that. He wanted her. He wanted her to look at him in that way, he wanted to stop the horrible words they had exchanged by covering her mouth with his own and flattening her body against his. But it was more than lust for her, and he knew it, and finally he admitted to himself that he really really did like her. But like wasn't the word.
He loved her. He had fallen in love with his wife. And the very minute she got back, he was going to tell her.