After the year she’d had, she was so not up to facing the man who’d dumped her nearly ten years ago.
AJ stared into her drink, watching the bubbles rise to the surface as she stirred it with the straw. She’d been good enough to have hot holiday sex with but not good enough to introduce to his parents or take out on an official date. To advertise as girlfriend material.
Ah, but it had been amazing sex.
The memories made her cheeks flush. With a small sigh she shoved the straw between her lips and took a sip, ignoring his gaze.
The bartender placed the coffee on the bar—espresso, no sugar—and her eyes were drawn to Matt’s long fingers curling around the cup. His scrutiny was beginning to unnerve her. Sure, he’d always been intense, examining things from every possible angle. It was part of what made him such a brilliant surgeon. But this...this...singular attention, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, was something different.
“Stop staring. I haven’t changed that much,” she finally said, irritated.
“You have.” He lifted the cup to his lips and took a chug, then carefully replaced the cup on the saucer.
“How?”
One eyebrow went up. “Fishing for compliments, AJ?”
“No.”
His expression changed. “Yeah, I remember that about you. You look...” He paused, and an inexplicable rush of anticipation stilled AJ’s breath. “Thirty-two suits you,” he finally said. “Very much.”
Oh. Perversely disappointed, she took another sip of her drink and smiled politely. “Thank you.”
“So how’ve you been?”
If you don’t count my surgery, my screaming biological clock and the fertility clinic appointment tomorrow? “Fine.” She eased off her chair and smiled once more, only this time it felt as if her face was about to crack. “Well. It was nice seeing you. Again. I—” When he muttered something under his breath, she frowned. “Sorry?”
“I said, crap. What the hell’s gotten into you, AJ? It wasn’t ‘nice’ seeing me again and you know it. So stop faking.”
AJ took a step back and crossed her arms, trying to rein in her irritation. “You know what? I’m not doing this with you. Not here, not now.” And she abruptly turned and stalked off.
Her heels barely made a sound on the stucco dance floor, the thumping music drowning out everything except the anger in her head. She managed to dodge a handful of dancers, then a tipsy guest, before making it through an archway at the far end of the room. With a vicious yank she pulled a door open and stepped inside the luxurious foyer that led to the restrooms.
Pausing at one of the full-length mirrors, she stared at her reflection, then cupped her cheeks, heat flaring beneath her palms.
Matthew Cooper was an arrogant ass. He was a trust-fund kid with upper-crust parents and a British ancestry dating back to the Battle of Hastings. An insanely intelligent silver-spooner who never knew what it was like to truly struggle...for a life, for control, for his next meal. He was the most self-centered, overbearing—
No. This wasn’t about him. Her life had been one insane rollercoaster ride since April: in the space of a week she’d gone from her normal checkup to being prepped for surgery to remove ovarian cysts. Determined to keep Emily’s happy prewedding bubble intact, she’d told no one, but her luck had run out when she’d run into Zac at the hospital, where he’d been donating some huge sum to the children’s ward and she’d been coming out of post-op. She’d sworn him to secrecy, but then the rat had insisted on paying for everything, including a week’s recuperation at a private health facility.
It’s highly unlikely you’ll be able to bear a child, Miss Reynolds.
Oh, her surgeon had his sympathetic bedside manner down pat, and a few years ago she would’ve brushed off his concern with barely a backward thought. The mere idea of her—Miss Single Girl, Life of the Party—having kids was laughable, right? Her fractured childhood notwithstanding, she loved the fact she could pick up stumps and move across the state on a whim, answering to no one, depending on no one and needing no one. Sure, there were those weird little pangs when she saw Emily and Zac together and she briefly yearned for something more. And it seemed like all her friends were dropping off her radar one by one, suddenly engrossed in getting married, falling in love or having babies.
Not AJ Reynolds. She didn’t need anyone.
Except now, the most basic choice of womanhood had been ripped from her and the sudden, inexplicable loss gaped like a jagged wound.
She’d started to question all the turns she’d taken to get to this point, every minute choice she’d made. That unfamiliar self-scrutiny had freaked her out, but finally, after a week of agonizing, she’d woken up one morning and known exactly what she wanted.
The heavy sucking sound of the door opening, followed by a sudden brief burst of music and laughter, broke through her thoughts. She narrowed her eyes at Matthew’s reflection in the mirror, refusing to turn around even when the silence lengthened and her skin itched with expectation.
“The men’s room is next door,” she said helpfully.
He ignored her comment. “You’re still angry with me.”
She whirled, ready to do battle, but took a calming breath at the last moment.
“Being angry means I still care.” She tipped her chin up, giving him her best down-the-nose glare, even though he was a good six inches taller. “And I don’t.”
“Right.”
His superiority grated. “Oh, get over yourself, Matt! It’s been ten years. I’ve moved on. Grown up. I’m living my life. You...” She waved a hand, taking in his perfectly suited frame. “You’re probably married to some socialite, chief of something by now and pleasing the pants off your parents—”
“Actually, I’m divorced and run an international medical response team.”
“—and honestly, I don’t think—” AJ paused then blinked. “What?”
“I run GEM. It’s a global emergency medical—”
“Wait, wait, wait. You quit Saint Catherine’s?”
He nodded. “Just over four years ago.”
AJ was stunned. “Holy crap. But you lived and breathed that place. It was your entire existence and you... Wow. What did your parents say?”
“Considerably more than ‘wow.’” The cloud in those hooded velvet eyes spoke volumes, belying the casual quirk of his lips.
“Wow,” she said again. He remained silent as she stared at him.
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