Paula Roe
She’d made it clear what she wanted—and that didn’t include him.
But Matthew had worked hard to get where he was. Whenever he decided to pursue a goal he committed everything to it. And now here was AJ, a ghost from his past, offering up his deepest desire: a child … with her.
AJ had no idea. She still thought he was some career-driven workaholic. Yet he was no longer the man she’d known—that young, schedule-oriented, goal-driven man for whom studies and the great Cooper name came first and foremost.
You can’t tell her. His brutal honesty and stupid doubts had ruined things once before and he’d lost her. This time he’d do things right.
You’re actually going to make a woman fall in love with you?
He had no intention of walking away—didn’t want to walk away. She’d chosen him, come to him.
It was fate.
Despite wanting to be a vet, a choreographer, a card shark, a hairdresser and an interior designer (although not simultaneously!), British-born, Aussie-bred PAULA ROE ended up as a personal assistant, an office manager, a software trainer and an aerobics instructor for thirteen interesting years.
Paula lives in western New South Wales, Australia, with her family, two opinionated cats and a garden full of dependent native birds. She still retains a deep love of filing systems, stationery and travelling, even though the latter doesn’t happen nearly as often as she’d like. She loves to hear from her readers—you can visit her at her website: www.paularoe.com.
As always, my girls, The Coven, without whom I’d be a blubbering mess of plot confusion on the floor. But especially to Shannon for that late-night brainstorming, Deb for the sane wisdom of finishing the book, and Margie for her brilliant expertise about fertility treatment and medical procedures.
And a deep, heartfelt thank-you to the man who inadvertently saved me from my book slump: British singer, writer and actor Mat Baynton. Without the wonderful distraction of your show, Horrible Histories, and the beautiful, inspirational music that is Dog Ears, this book would have turned out most different and definitely lacking. You’re a lovely obsession. Thank you more than you’ll know.
“That bridesmaid keeps checking you out. Do you know her?”
“Who?” Matthew Cooper turned from the huge skyline window, transferring his attention from the stunning seventy-eighth-floor view of Queensland’s Surfers Paradise to his sister, Paige. Her familiar teasing grin remained firmly in place as he gave a cursory glance at the impressively decked-out bridal party. The group of six was slowly making the rounds as a glorious sunset illuminated the aptly named Sunlight Room, Q-Deck’s premier reception area.
“The redhead,” Paige answered.
He shrugged, snagged a glass of champagne from the passing waiter’s tray, then went back to the commanding view. “I don’t know anyone here. The happy couple are your clients.”
Paige frowned. “And you’re depressing me. It’s a wedding, Matt. A celebration of love. Loosen up a little. Have a bit of fun.” She scanned the crowd again. “Go and chat up a bridesmaid.”
He raised one eyebrow, jammed a hand into his pants pocket and took a slow sip from his glass. “The redhead?”
“She is definitely interested.”
Matt murmured something noncommittal.
Paige sighed. “You are one sad guy. Here you are, thirty-six, prime of your life, attractive, single, excruciatingly rich—”
“Responsible. Successful—”
“And still work-obsessed,” she concluded as she watched him check his phone for the third time in half an hour. “I thought you left Saint Cat’s to get away from that.”
He frowned. “Running GEM is totally different.”
“Hmm...” Paige’s brown eyes blinked as she popped an appetizer in her mouth, then held up her palms, indicating scales. “On the one hand, heart surgery. On the other, running an international global rescue company.” She tipped one hand down, the other up. “Saving lives for the family business—parents overjoyed. Training emergency medical response teams in developing countries—parents pissed off.”
“I’m still saving lives, Paige. And I don’t need you on my case, too.”
“Seeing nasty, lying ex-wife every few weeks.” One of Paige’s palms dropped. “Skiving off to exotic locations and even more exotic women.” Her other hand shot up as she smiled. “Yet you’re still not happy.”
“I’m—”
“You’re not.” She touched his arm. “I may live in London but I still know you.”
Before he could answer, the bridal party shifted, a solid mass of movement and noise flowing in a singular wave.
It was Friday night in the middle of an unseasonably warm August, and instead of finalizing project details before he flew out to Perth on Monday, he was in a room full of strangers, celebrating the union of two people so obviously in love it was kind of nauseating.
A vague, irrational anger swept over him. The last wedding he’d attended had been his own—and look how that had turned out.
People parted to reveal the newlyweds, Emily and Zac Prescott, sharing a grinning kiss. As the guests cheered, Matthew’s jaw tightened, uncomfortable