by Paula Roe
“Having a good time, gorgeous?”The bartender grinned.
“Sure.” She smiled halfheartedly.
He placed the drink in front of her, but when she reached for it his hand lingered, his gaze intent. “Hey, what do you say to—”
Suddenly Matthew was there, easing onto the stool next to her, his polite smile aimed directly at the bartender. It was almost funny the way the other man yanked his hand away and quickly asked, “What can I get you, sir?” But when the bartender went to fix a coffee and Matt turned to face her, amusement was the last thing on her mind.
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 fo
und 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 b
lood 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.”
