He’d been married. It was old news, but her heart still smarted. He’d loved someone enough to propose. He’d taken someone else to bed and been loved in return.

Was it wrong to hate someone she didn’t know?

AJ focused on his beautiful mouth. She knew the second his thoughts solidified: his brown eyes darkened, nostrils flaring as he slowly dragged in a breath. “Angel...”

She swallowed. “Don’t call me that.”

She heard a loud click and jumped as the room was suddenly plunged into pitch darkness.

The light timer had run its course. With a soft curse, AJ stuck out her hands and took a step forward.

“AJ?”

“I’m walking to the wall.” She took another step, then another...until she found something solid. And warm. Definitely not the wall.

She sprung back with a dismayed groan and would’ve lost her footing if not for Matt’s quick response. He grabbed her arms, steadying her. “I’ve got you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yes, you are.” The blackness was absolute but she could still hear the smile in his voice.

Her breath hitched as his hands seared her skin. “You can let go now.”

“Okay.”

But he didn’t. Instead, he cupped her elbows and suddenly every one of her senses went on high alert.

His long sensual fingers were warm on her skin and his subtle scent beckoned. When she felt him shift, a wave of body heat swathed her, drawing her into a seductive web.

Damn it. Her heart pounded in familiar anticipation. She heard him draw in a breath, then slowly exhale. That gentle puff of air was way too close to her cheek.

“Matthew. Turn the light on.”

“I will.”

“Now.”

“You are still angry.”

“That doesn’t concern you.” She struggled in his grasp so that when he released her, she crashed into his chest and her lips collided with his.

She gasped and pulled back, a second too late. That fleeting moment of delight had done its job.

The door suddenly swung open, and the light automatically switched back on. They both blinked and turned to see Paige standing in the doorway.

Everyone froze in a strange tableau of embarrassment, followed by an immediate gathering of dignity as AJ and Matt both sprang apart.

“Oh, hey,” Paige said, way too casually. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, Matt. The newlyweds are leaving. You want to go?”

“In a minute.” But he stayed where he was, studying AJ so thoroughly that she ended up smoothing down her perfectly straight skirts with nervous fingers.

AJ didn’t miss the way Paige’s speculative gaze swept over them or the small grin on her lips. Oh, great. “I should be going, too.”

“We could share a cab if you want,” Paige said.

“Oh, I still have the bridal car....”

“Really?” As Paige’s face lit up, AJ groaned inwardly. Damn.

“You could share with me, if you like,” she said reluctantly. Say no, say no, say no.

“That’d be great! Wouldn’t that be great, Matt?”

His gaze darted from AJ to his sister, and a small frown suddenly furrowed his brow. Then he stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “Wonderful.”

* * *

At the last minute, Paige conveniently realized she’d forgotten her purse. With an “I’ll just grab a cab—don’t worry!” she slammed the door on their surprised expressions and the Bentley pulled away from the curb.

The silent drive was awkward. AJ kept her legs crossed, her body angled toward the door, her gaze firmly out the window, but it still didn’t stop her from casting furtive glances at Matt’s reflection in the glass.

There was something about this man, this one particular person with whom she’d shared her body so freely and willingly. Out of all the other guys, she’d actually liked this one. He had ample cause to be a complete jerk—money, breeding, genius-level IQ, brilliant career, lush looks. But he wasn’t.

At least, not until that night. And to be fair, she’d read far more into their fling than she should’ve. A mistake she’d avoided making for years afterward. Until Jesse.

She shook her head, refusing to think about her last stupid mistake. Instead, her thoughts wandered back to Matt. Who knew what had shaped him in those ten years? Something obviously huge, considering he’d thrown away a career he’d sacrificed everything for since high school.

Matthew finally broke the silence. “So what are you doing now?”

Crashing and burning. Feeling way too attracted to you. Wanting to touch— “Going to my hotel.”

“I meant for work,” he replied patiently.

She sighed and slowly turned to him. This was her punishment for bad judgment—death by small talk. “I have a stall at the Gold Coast markets.”

“Selling what?”

“Drawings.”

“You draw?”

“And paint. I even do a pretty good caricature, which is my best seller.”

“I didn’t know you were an artist. I mean,” he amended, “I saw you sketching once, but...”

“We just shared a bed, Matt, not our deepest thoughts about life and love.” She shrugged. “We had fun for a few months.”

She remained surprisingly calm under his scrutiny, even though her insides jumped as his fingers softly drummed on the door.

You’re not twenty-three anymore. You can hold a man’s gaze without backing down like a blushing virgin.

“We had fun,” he repeated slowly.

The heat of irritation crept up her neck. “Well, I did.”

His eyes darkened, mouth tilting into a knowing grin. “I know. I was there, remember?”

Unfortunately she’d been doing nothing but remembering ever since she’d clapped eyes on him. And if she were the old AJ, the one who’d lived and loved with careless abandon, she wouldn’t hesitate to follow through. Judging by the sensuous curl of his mouth and the way his gaze devoured her, he was thinking the same thing.

She took in his lopsided smile and the tiny dimple it made, the way his eyes roamed leisurely over her face and hair before coming to rest on her mouth. The way those eyes then darkened with a predatory gleam.

Growing up, she’d quickly learned how to read peoples’ expressions, predict a mood then act accordingly. This skill had been a good foil for her smart mouth, which had provoked the bulk of her mother’s slaps. That little girl desperate for a mother’s love was long, long gone.

The message she saw in Matt’s eyes was plain as day. He wanted her. And judging by that smile, he was reading her need as easily as the Sunday sports section.

It seemed he was about to say something more but instead glanced out the window. AJ followed his gaze, to the blazing lights of the Phoenician. Her time was up.

“This is my stop,” she said unnecessarily, her smile tight. “Well, goodbye. Have a safe trip back to Sydney.”

“Thanks.”

She eased from the car and, to her surprise, he followed.

“I’m perfectly capable of seeing myself to my room,” she said tartly.

He lifted his hand, her thin handbag strap dangling from one finger. “You know, that hairstyle really doesn’t suit you.”

She grasped her bag strap. “I’m supposed to be a demure bridesmaid.”

He refused to relinquish the bag. “Demure?”

She watched his gaze go past her shoulder to the people coming and going from the hotel. “Give me my bag.”

With a small tug, he drew her closer. “I’m staying at the Palazzo Versace. Have lunch with me tomorrow.”

Her heart leaped for one second before she ruthlessly shot down that eager spark. “No.”

“You have something else planned?”

“Yes.”

“You can tell me more about your paintings.”

Oh, you are smooth, Matthew Cooper. From his languid, willpower-melting smile to the way his head tilted, she knew he knew she was attracted. She’d made some colossal mistakes in her past, but denying her body’s desires was not one of them.

How long had it been?

Too long. A familiar sliver of excitement prickled just before she sighed and tugged at her bag again. In response, he tightened his grip and tugged back.

“Damn it, Matt, give me my—”

He took her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. The gentle slide of warm flesh, the firm conviction as he curled his hand around hers had her blood leaping to life.

Matthew had beautiful hands, with smooth sun-darkened skin and lean fingers. Perfect surgeon’s hands, miracle instruments of power and talent, whether he was performing intricate lifesaving surgery or bringing her to a panting climax.

Her breath gurgled in her throat.

He began to stroke her knuckles with his thumb. That shockingly personal intimacy did her in, scattering all rational thought.

Then he firmly drew her forward and, in the middle of the hotel entrance in front of a dozen milling guests, placed a kiss square on her mouth.

Alarm made her pulse skyrocket, yet familiar desire dissolved any objections. His mouth was as warm and skillful as she remembered. Her whole body took barely a second to recover, to remember, then it was off and running, eager for more as her eyes fluttered closed and she kissed him back.

She didn’t care that his lips curved into a knowing, way-too-confident smile beneath hers. All she could think of was that mouth, tasting of coffee and something forbidden, urging hers wider, devouring her; then his tongue as he gently eased her open and dove inside.

Damn him. He knew how to turn a woman on.

A group of hotel guests abruptly surrounded them, cheering and whistling, edging past with alcohol-infused enthusiasm and bringing with them movement and noise and sudden clarity.

She pulled back and Matthew reached out to steady her, his breath warm across her cheek. When their hips bumped, then their shoulders, a frisson of delight shivered up her spine.

AJ barely noticed the brief, cheerful apologies as the crowd moved on. All she noticed were Matthew’s warm palms cupping her elbows, his soapy-fresh scent and his breath as it feathered across her bare shoulder.

“Want to change your mind about me seeing you to your room?” he murmured in her ear, his deep accented baritone making her nerves dance.

“No.”

He grinned. “So lunch tomorrow?”

“Contrary to popular belief, the world doesn’t revolve around you, Matthew Cooper.” She dug in her bag for her phone and checked the time. “I have things to do tomorrow.”

“Dinner, then.”

She sighed. Sharing food with him, making small talk, was the last thing on her wish list, especially after her appointment tomorrow.

He reached out and took her phone. She scowled. “What are you—?”

He flicked it on and dialed. “Here’s my number.” He paused and his phone trilled from somewhere inside his jacket. Then he returned hers. “Lunch tomorrow.”

With a confident grin, he turned and strode back to the car.

She glared at his broad back. Of all the arrogant...

The Bentley finally drove off. With a sigh, she turned on her heel and walked into the hotel foyer. This wasn’t a problem. She’d just call tomorrow and cancel. There’d be nothing he could do about it, after all.

Yet it didn’t stop the niggling feeling that she was throwing away the chance to have Matthew back in her bed again.

Irritated, she punched the elevator button. Sure, she’d lusted. She’d wanted. She’d desired. But she’d never completely offered him her heart and he’d never demanded it. She’d been young and reckless, reveling in life, and he’d been the perfect fling. Yet despite her oh-so-mature outlook on the whole affair, he’d still managed to bruise her.

Matthew Cooper was part of her past, not her future. If she was an expert at anything, it was moving on and letting the past stay buried.

Three

AJ perched on the edge of her chair in the discreet Brisbane fertility clinic, hands clasped firmly in her lap.

She’d managed to get a grasp on her emotions, wrapping them with prudent caution. Yet she couldn’t stop the edginess that rose up, catching her breath and making her heart kick.

Forget about Matthew Cooper and just get on with your original plan.

Dr. Sanjay flicked open the file on his desk. “How are you today, Miss Reynolds?”

“Fine. Nervous.”

He looked up from the file and peered over his glasses with a smile. “So, this is your second consult. Dr. McGregor did your full checkup and discussed the realities of getting pregnant with you?”

“Yes.”

He kept reading. “It says here you had surgery three months ago for ovarian cysts.”

“Yes, my surgeon did say my chances of conception were low. Thirty percent.”

“You have quite a bit of scarring—”

“But thirty percent is better than nothing, right?”

He sighed, then gave a reluctant nod. “It doesn’t mean it’s impossible—just difficult. But it will be time consuming, and fertilization may not happen the first, second or even the fifth time. And it can be draining, physically, mentally and financially.” He glanced back down at the file. “You’ve already chosen a donor from our files, I see.”

She nodded.

“Okay.” Sanjay flipped open the file, then frowned. “One moment.” He reached for the phone and made a call. When he hung up, he slowly removed his glasses, closed the folder and fixed her with a silent, considering gaze.

Uh-oh. She nervously twisted the handles of her handbag. “What’s wrong?”

“Miss Reynolds, I’m sorry but we cannot proceed at this time.”

Her mouth gaped. “Why not?”

“I’ve been advised your donor is no longer available.” He gave her a sympathetic smile.

“What?”

“Your donor cancelled his appointment,” Sanjay said calmly. “This means—”

AJ stared blankly at the manila folder as the doctor’s explanation faded into the background. No. No! This could not be happening.

“Miss Reynolds?” the doctor repeated gently. “Did you hear me? How do you want to proceed?”

“What do you mean?”

He paused, silently studying her as if trying to assess her mental state. “You’ll need to make another donor choice and then we can go from there. You’ll need to make another appointment with reception.”

He slid a business card across his desk, almost as if he’d been waiting for the cue, but all she could do was stare at him. “But...but...I don’t... It took me three months to get this one! Can’t I just—”

“I am sorry about the long wait time but we are fully booked. And I am legally bound to follow procedure.” He straightened the files on his desk, then fixed her with a polite smile. “You need time to make a decision and once you have, we can discuss everything at our next appointment. Now, can I help you with anything else?”

AJ shook her head and took the card, her fingers surprisingly steady.

When she finally strode outside, the bright morning sun seared away the vague clinical aroma and the doctor’s sympathetic but hands-tied expression. Slipping on her sunglasses, she crossed the road to the parking lot and dug out her phone.

She found her car—a third-hand, beat-up red Hyundai Getz—and slipped into the driver’s seat.

Just what was she going to do now?

She stared at the cracked steering wheel, her mind a total blank. Another three months. Could she wait that long? She’d done her research—she knew anxiety and worry played a huge factor in getting pregnant. And there was no guarantee the first time would work anyway. She’d been on a dozen different blogs and forums where women openly shared their stories—the injections, the schedules, prime ovulation times, family pressure, aching optimism and the deep, dark lows of constant negative tests. She’d read about women making the agonizing choice of stopping fertility treatments after years of stress, only to fall pregnant months later when the pressure was off. Her head had spun with overload.

She could spend years chasing this dream. And where would she get the money? She’d never had a loan in her life and there was no way she’d stoop to sponging off Emily. Big sisters looked out for the little ones; they didn’t demand handouts.

Her mind was a whirling mass of chaos, thoughts flying everywhere, so it took a few seconds to realize her phone was ringing. Confused, she finally grabbed it and stared at the screen.

Her sharp laugh shattered the still air. It was Matthew. Great.

“Yes?”

“Just checking you’ll be here for lunch.”

His deep voice, combined with that polished accent, sent her thoughts into further turmoil. She glanced at her watch. Ten o’clock. It felt like she’d been in there for hours. “Probably not. I’m in Brisbane.”

There was a pause. “Later, then. The Versace does an exceptional high tea.”

She opened her mouth to refuse, but a sudden insidious thought struck her speechless.

Oh. My. God.

She shook her head. No.

But wait! What if...? No, you can’t.

Sure, you can.

She took a deep breath, then another.

“AJ?”

“I’m thinking,” she replied, dragging a hand through her hair.

“Don’t take too long,” he murmured. “Time’s ticking away.”

Never a truer word was spoken. Her forbidden idea slowly took shape. Matthew Cooper had the power to grant her most desperate wish. He was the perfect male specimen. The perfect candidate. The key to her plan.

Matt could give me a baby.

Yes! No! Indecision warred inside before she finally overrode her doubts and chose a side.

“I’ll be there at one,” she said and turned the key in the ignition.

* * *

Matt hadn’t actually expected her to say yes. Now, as he waited in the Palazzo Versace’s opulent coffee lounge, he wondered if this was such a good idea.

His entire life was a study in cool-headed decision-making. He made plans, logical moves, well-informed choices. Choices that had furthered his career, challenged his intellect and increased his standing in the medical community. And when he’d reached his personal crisis point, that cool head had led him to a new calling.

Yet he’d impulsively asked AJ out. In the space of an evening, she’d managed to rub off on him.

Hell, he never could control himself around her.

He shook his head and glanced over at the reception area for the fifth time in as many minutes. Circular couches with plump sun-yellow cushions were scattered throughout the foyer and the sleek, intricately tiled marble entrance bore the familiar Versace logo. Some said this five-star Gold Coast hotel blurred the line between lavish and garish, but he loved it. It was private, the staff was discreet and service was top-notch. He never stayed anywhere else when he was in Surfers.

He glanced up again, and when he spotted a familiar figure walking through the huge glass doors, her low strappy heels clicking sharply on the tiled floor, his thoughts fled like predawn shadows at sunrise.

He’d recognize that distinctive red hair anywhere, even if it was tied back in a controlled ponytail. He also noticed how her brow was furrowed in concentration.

AJ had a habit of frowning when she didn’t agree with what was being said, those tiny disapproving lines momentarily creasing her forehead before she opened her mouth and began challenging, questioning.

She may look like a Renaissance painting, but her brain was firmly twenty-first century.

He ran his eyes over her, taking in the beacon of hair, the soft lemon cardigan over a modestly cut cream sundress, the silver sandals on her feet. She looked...demure. Again. A word he’d never consider for a woman who’d worn screaming-orange and electric-blue with impunity, who’d rocked short denim shirts and sexy off-the-shoulder tops, who laughed and loved equally with impulsive, joyous abandon.

Burning curiosity sparked in him as he strode across the foyer.

When she finally noticed his approach, a smile replaced her frown. It was all-encompassing, defining those high cheekbones and creasing her clear blue eyes. It felt as if he was the only guy in the world and she was smiling just for him. And yeah, it also jammed the words in his throat as if he were a boy with his first crush.

Irritating and arousing—that was AJ to a T.

So he did the only thing he could—smiled in return, took her arm and placed a kiss on her cheek. She stilled in surprise, and he immediately pulled back, decorum warring with craving.

“How...?” She swallowed then went on breathily, “How are you?”

Suddenly needing to do more than kiss your cheek.

“Hungry. Are you?” he asked thickly.

“Not particularly.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, AJ sensed the danger. It was like fire crackling to life, flaring up to bathe her in delicious heat. His eyes were dark, full of forbidden promise, and suddenly AJ recalled another time, another place, where they’d forgone food and instead feasted on each other until dawn crept into the sky.

She dropped her gaze.

His palm cupped her elbow in a soft caress. “I’ve arranged for us to eat outside. Come.”

She let him lead her past the huge windows with a view of a massive, Greco-Roman-style pool and fountains sparkling in the afternoon sun, then out the doors. A bead of sweat formed in the small of her back, and she slipped her sunglasses on. The water looked so inviting.

“Have you been here before?” he asked, his hand a warm brand on her as they wove their way through the pristine cabanas ringing the pool.

“Once, for dinner.” Zac and Emily had treated her, and she’d spent the whole time stroking the chair and lusting after the dinner plates.

They stopped in front of a cabana, where a female server greeted them. “Good afternoon, Dr. Cooper. Your afternoon tea is ready. Would you like me to serve you now?”

“No, that’s fine. Thank you.” When he smiled, AJ swore she saw a blush rise in the girl’s cheeks before she nodded and left them.

Their private air-conditioned cabana looked like a sheikh’s tent. She glanced around, noting the cotton-draped walls and roof and the table on the far side that held coffee and tea jugs warming on heating plates. A love seat against another wall was scattered with a dozen cushions displaying the distinctive Versace pattern. Two recliners flanked a low table that held an elegant three-tiered display of sweet and savory treats that made AJ’s mouth water.

Matt nodded to the chairs. “Take a seat.”

She hesitated, then toed off her shoes before settling into the lounge with a sigh. After her crazy morning this was a welcome respite, despite Matt’s surreal presence amid the luxurious five-star hotel aura.

He took a seat across from her at the low table. She focused on the spread before them.

“Is that smoked salmon? And cream cheese?”

“Your favorite, right?”

She sighed. “You always knew how to make me smile, Matthew Cooper.”

His mouth grazed her bottom lip before he reached for her coffee cup and began to fill it. “I’m planning on doing much more than that.”

Oh, wow. She didn’t care that her answering grin was full of girlish giddiness, nor that anticipation made her hand tremble as she took her cup.

“Really.” She took a sip, eyeing him over the rim.

“You told me you hated playing games, remember?” He met her firm look with one of his own. “I’m just being honest.”

Yes, he was. She looked away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. Here’s your chance. Ask him now. She replaced her cup and reached for a tiny smoked salmon sandwich. “So how long were you married?”

He paused, a sliver of bread roll halfway to his mouth. “Does it matter? It’s over.”

“It doesn’t.” She shrugged. “I’m just curious.”

“Her name was Katrina,” he finally said, then popped the food into his mouth and slowly chewed. “We were married for three years. You?”

“Oh, no. Not me.” A memory flashed by, but she swallowed the bitter ashes with a neutral expression as she selected another morsel from the platter. “And you left Saint Cat’s.” She nibbled on the finger sandwich. Chicken and pesto—delicious.

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