Expecting Miracle Twins
Barbara Hannay

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

MATTIE was grinning as she turned into the driveway at her new address. She couldn’t believe her good luck. The block of flats was so much nicer than she’d expected, with charming whitewashed walls, Mediterranean-blue doors and sunny balconies that overlooked the bay.

Her flat—number three—was on the ground floor, which meant she wouldn’t have to climb too many sets of stairs in the later months of her pregnancy, and Brutus would be able to run in and out to the garden to his heart’s content.

As she parked on the driveway, she saw a welcoming pot of bright pink geraniums beside the doormat and the garden was filled with sunshine. Mattie could already picture her life here. In the mornings, she would bring her laptop outside and watch the sun sparkle on the water while she worked. She could put Brutus on his lead and take him for walks along the path beside the bay.

The flat was close to the hospital and it had all the right vibes. If she stood on tiptoe, she could even see the tip of Sydney Harbour Bridge. She was going to love living here for a whole year.

Everything about her new venture felt good. She’d talked to the doctors at length and she’d thought about the project from every angle, and she knew she was doing the right thing.

It was green lights all the way and, if all went well, by the end of the year she would deliver to her best friends the precious baby they both longed for. All she needed now was a successful implantation and the surrogacy would begin.

Humming happily, Mattie reached for the door key in her handbag, scooped up Brutus from his basket and opened the car door.

Wham!

A blast of strident music burst like a machine gun from number three and Mattie’s happy smile disintegrated. Stunned, she checked her key tag, but there was no mistake—number three was definitely the right flat—her flat. Gina had assured her for the hundredth time when she’d handed over the keys this morning.

‘It’s yours for as long as you need it,’ she’d said.

Everything was arranged. Gina’s brother Will owned this flat, but he was working on a mine site in Mongolia and, as Mattie had refused any kind of monetary exchange for the surrogacy, Gina had settled on the use of the flat instead.

The last thing Mattie had expected was to find another tenant here, playing music—loud heavy metal music that set her teeth on edge. She clutched Brutus more tightly as she stared at the blue door.

Had squatters moved in? Were they throwing a party?

She almost returned to the safety of her car, but her sense of justice prevailed. She’d been assured many times that this was her flat. Gina and Tom were excessively grateful that she was willing to help them in their quest for a baby. Justice was on her side.

Mentally gathering her courage, she marched up the path, up the two stone steps and knocked.

And knocked.

And then thumped with her fist.

At last the volume of the music was lowered and the door opened, and Mattie took a hasty step backwards.

The man who suddenly filled the doorway did not look like a squatter. Far from it. But he did look like a pirate.

At least, that was Mattie’s first thought, which was no doubt prompted by his rather wild dark hair and his scruffy jaw—and the fact that his shirt was unbuttoned to reveal rather a great deal of dazzling tanned chest. Mattie tried very hard not to look at his chest, but it was an incredibly eye-catching sample of male anatomy.

He propped a bulky shoulder against the door frame and studied her from beneath disconcerting half-lowered lids, and he managed to look both annoyed and bored by her intrusion. ‘How can I help you?’

When he spoke, Mattie stopped thinking about pirates. For a moment she stopped thinking altogether. His voice was rich, dark and smooth, like an extremely sinful chocolate dessert. Combined with his gaping white shirt, it sent her mind completely blank.

She forced her gaze up and away from his chest and looked him bravely in the eye. ‘I…um…think…there’s been a mistake.’

A dark eyebrow lifted lazily. ‘I beg your pardon?’

Mattie tried again. ‘There seems to have been some kind of mix-up.’ She waved her door key. ‘This is my flat. Number three. I’m supposed to be moving in here today.’

He cast a quick, assessing glance that took in Brutus, curled in her arms, and her little car, crammed to the roof with her worldly possessions. Then he glanced back over his shoulder into the living room and, for the first time, Mattie saw his companion—a long-legged blonde, reclining on the sofa with a glass of wine in her hand.

‘What’s she want?’ the woman called.

Ignoring her, the fellow narrowed his eyes at Mattie. ‘Did the real estate office send you here?’

‘No.’ She straightened her shoulders. ‘I have a…a private arrangement…with the owner. He knows all about it.’

‘Does he now? And would you mind telling me the owner’s name?’

‘Excuse me?’ Mattie was incensed. ‘What right have you to ask that? I can assure you, my claim on this flat is legitimate. Is yours?’

To her annoyance, he chuckled. Mattie almost stamped her foot and Brutus, sensing her distress, licked her hand. And then the woman on the sofa uncurled her long legs, set down her wineglass and joined the fellow in the doorway. She draped an arm around the man’s massive shoulders. ‘What’s going on, Jake?’

‘Just a minor border incursion.’ The man, whose name, apparently, was Jake, watched Mattie with a look of faint amusement.

‘A what?’

‘A territorial battle,’ he told the blonde without taking his dark diamond-bright gaze from Mattie.

An unwelcome ripple of heat fluttered over Mattie’s skin. She glared at Jake for causing it, and deliberately turned her attention to his sulky companion and rattled the keys again. ‘There’s been an unfortunate mistake about the flat. I’m supposed to be moving in here.’

‘When?’ asked the other woman in a tone as unhelpful as her boyfriend’s.

‘Today. Now. This afternoon.’ Mattie pointed to the number three on the tag. ‘I have a key.’ Again, she glared at Jake. ‘Do you have a key? Or did you break in?’

His response was to fold his arms and favour her with a withering look.

In desperation, Mattie said, ‘Look, I told you I have an arrangement with Will Carruthers.’

‘Will Carruthers sent you here?’ Jake’s eyes widened with surprise. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?’

Mattie was surprised too. ‘Do you know Will?’

‘Of course I know him. I work with him in Mongolia. He’s my best mate.’

‘Oh.’ She gulped unhappily. ‘So I suppose he knows you’re here?’

‘Absolutely. I’m on leave. I had a week in Japan and now I’m in Sydney for a week and Will insisted I use his flat.’

Mattie clung to the faint hope that Jake’s week was almost up. ‘When did your week start?’

‘Day before yesterday.’

Deflated, she dropped her gaze to Brutus, and he made sympathetic doggy noises and tried to lick her chin. ‘There’s obviously been a mix-up with the times.’

She tried not to sound too disappointed, but if she and this Jake fellow both had a claim on the flat, and if he was here first, she supposed she had no choice but to find somewhere else to stay for the rest of this week.

She wondered despondently where she should start her search for accommodation. It would have to be somewhere cheap and she didn’t know Sydney very well.

‘Rotten luck for you,’ chirped the girlfriend and she grinned smugly at Mattie as she rested her chin possessively on Jake’s shoulder.

‘You haven’t explained how you know Will,’ Jake drawled.

‘I’ve known him all my life,’ Mattie told him and it was perfectly true. Even though she hadn’t seen much of Will Carruthers in recent years, they belonged to a circle of friends who’d grown up together in Willowbank in Outback New South Wales.

‘Will’s sister, Gina, is my best friend,’ she explained. ‘And Gina and Will organised between them for me to live here for twelve months.’

Jake frowned as he digested this and then he shrugged. ‘In that case, I guess there’s no reason why you can’t move in. After all, there are two bedrooms.’

His companion let out an annoyed huff.

Mattie’s mouth opened and shut, then opened again. She really didn’t want to have to start searching for somewhere else, and this pair would only be here for a few more days. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind? I don’t want to intrude.’

He uttered a gruff sound of impatience. ‘I’ve offered, haven’t I? Anyway, I don’t plan to be around much.’ He turned to the girl. ‘We may as well hit the town now, Ange, while—’ He paused and gave Mattie the briefest flicker of a smile. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Matilda Carey.’ She held out her hand rather primly. ‘Mostly I’m called Mattie.’

‘Jake Devlin,’ he said, giving her hand a firm shake.

‘Pleased to meet you, Jake.’

He indicated the small, silky terrier-cross in her arms. ‘Who’s this?’

‘Brutus.’

Jake chuckled. ‘Oh, yeah, he’s a real brute, isn’t he?’ Then he remembered his companion. ‘This is Ange.’

Mattie smiled at her. ‘How do you do?’

‘Oh, I’m fine,’ Ange responded sulkily.

‘Would you like a hand to bring your things inside?’

Jake’s courtesy surprised Mattie, but its effect was offset by the predictably dark look on Ange’s face. ‘Oh, heavens, no,’ she assured him. ‘I can manage easily. I only have a canary cage and a few suitcases.’

‘A canary?’ Jake looked both amused and puzzled. He scratched his head and the gesture caused all sorts of muscles in his chest to ripple magnificently.

Mattie was about to explain that she’d inherited the canary from her grandmother but, once again, his chest distracted her.

‘Jake.’ A warning note had entered Ange’s voice. ‘We’re heading off now, right? I’ll get my things.’

‘Sure,’ he said and he began to close the buttons on his shirt.

Mattie watched as the two of them hurried away to find a taxi and then she went into the flat. It wasn’t quite the exciting introduction to her new home that she’d pictured. The unpalatable music, although diminished, still throbbed from the stereo and she quickly switched it off.

She crossed the lounge room, skirting the coffee table with the abandoned wine bottle, bowl of nuts and glasses, and went through to the kitchen. The sink was littered with dirty dishes and the dishwasher door hung open, as if someone had intended to stack it but had been distracted by a better idea.

Down the hallway, she found the bathroom and she was not surprised to see wet towels dumped on the floor, as well as a pair of black lace knickers. Mattie had shared flats before and some of her flatmates had been untidy, so she was more or less used to this kind of scene. It was weird, then, that the sight of those knickers depressed her.

The next room was a bedroom, dominated by a king-size bed—unmade, of course. The bed’s tangled sheets told their own story, as did the empty champagne bottle on the bedside table.

An inexplicable hollowness in Mattie’s stomach sent her hurrying on till she came, at last, to a neat bedroom at the back of the flat.

It was much smaller than the main bedroom and there was no view of the bay, but it was perfectly clean and tidy.

And mine, Mattie thought. That was something. Actually, when she gave it further thought, she realised that she would probably have taken this room for herself anyway, and kept the front room with the view for visitors.

Then again, she mused, mulling over this as she headed back to unload the car, she probably wouldn’t have too many visitors this year. Gina and Tom would want to visit from time to time and so would her parents, now that they’d recovered from the shock of hearing what she planned. But she’d agreed with Gina that they should keep their surrogacy arrangement very private, so she’d told her other friends very little about her move to Sydney.

Mattie’s decision to move to the city had not been made lightly. She and Gina had talked it over at length. They both knew that if she’d stayed in Willowbank, they couldn’t possibly keep the surrogacy under wraps. And Gina had been sensible enough to recognise that her constant vigilance of Mattie’s pregnancy would be stifling, so they’d agreed it was better this way.

In some ways, however, it was going to be a lonely year. That was the one thing that had concerned the psychologist when she’d explored Mattie’s motivations and commitment to the surrogacy process. Mattie had managed to convince her that she was perfectly happy with her own company. As a children’s book author and illustrator, she was used to spending long hours lost in her work.

‘Do you have a partner? A boyfriend?’ the psychologist had asked.

Mattie had told her there was no special man in her life. She didn’t add that there hadn’t been a special man in her life for almost three years.

‘What if you meet someone in the next few months?’ the other woman had prompted. ‘A pregnancy will restrict your social life.’

Mattie had thought it best not to mention that her social life had been on hold for quite some time. ‘It’s only one year out of my life,’ she’d said with a shrug.

‘But you’re going to need support.’

‘The baby’s parents will come to Sydney for regular visits,’ she’d responded with jaunty confidence. ‘And my friends and family are only a phone call or an e-mail away.’

She’d wisely avoided announcing that she hadn’t asked for support, but the truth was that Matilda Carey made a habit of giving support to others, rather than receiving it. Her impulse to help and rescue had begun so far back in her past it was as vital to her nature as her heartbeat—and that wasn’t going to change in a year.

It was past midnight when Mattie heard the front door open and the sound of heavy footsteps on the terracotta tiles. She expected the murmur of voices or laughter, but all she heard was a thump and a muffled curse, as if someone had tripped, then more footsteps and, eventually, taps turning on in the bathroom.

The footsteps continued on to Jake’s bedroom and Mattie pulled a pillow over her head. If those sheets were going to be tangled again tonight, she didn’t want to listen to the sound effects.

She was washing up her breakfast things when Jake stumbled into the kitchen next morning, bleary-eyed and unshaven—like a bear with a sore head, her mother would have said.

‘Morning,’ Mattie said breezily, flashing a careful smile over her shoulder.

He replied with a grumpy monosyllable.

‘There’s tea in the pot and it’s still hot, if you’d like some.’

Jake shook his head and scowled at the sparkling clean kitchen benches. ‘What’s happened to the coffee plunger?’

‘Oh, it’s up here.’ Mattie reached into the overhead cupboard where she’d put the plunger pot after she’d washed it last night.

She handed it to him and he scowled at it as if he didn’t recognise it. ‘Did you wash this?’

‘Well…yes.’

He scowled some more. ‘And you’ve cleaned up the kitchen.’

‘I didn’t mind. It didn’t take long.’

He shook his head and winced and she wondered if he had a headache. She thought about offering to cook bacon and eggs. Most guys seemed to find a big breakfast the best cure for a hangover.

But this morning she had the distinct impression that Jake Devlin would bite her head right off if she made such an offer. And, anyway, he had Ange to fuss over him, didn’t he? She supposed his girlfriend was still in bed, sound asleep after her late night.

‘I’ll get out of your way,’ she said. ‘I’m going into town. I have an appointment this morning.’

Jake flashed a brief, keen glance in her direction. ‘So have I.’

‘Right.’ Mattie inhaled sharply, surprised that he’d shared even this much about himself. ‘I…um…hope it goes well, then.’

He looked faintly amused and, for a moment, she thought he was about to smile and say something friendly, but then he shrugged and turned his attention to the kettle.

Mattie hurried away and told herself that she didn’t care if he was unsociable. He would be gone in less than a week and it didn’t matter if he never smiled. His grumpiness was his problem, not hers.

But, as she went past the open bedroom door, she caught sight of those sheets again. She quickly averted her gaze—she didn’t want to spy on Ange. Except…

She couldn’t help taking another hasty glance and she realised then that she wasn’t mistaken. The bed was empty. Clearly, Ange had not come home with Jake, which perhaps explained his bad mood.

CHAPTER TWO

THE woman at the nursing home smiled at Jake. ‘Come this way, Mr Devlin. Roy’s up and dressed, ready and waiting for you. He’s very excited about your visit.’

‘Glad to hear it,’ Jake replied, but a small coil of dread tightened in his stomach as he followed her down a narrow hallway. This place was as bad as he remembered from his last visit. It smelled like a hospital and the walls were lined with pastel paintings of butterflies, flowers and fruit bowls. Roy wouldn’t like them. Not a horse or a gum tree in sight.

As Jake passed doors, he caught glimpses of white-haired old folk in bed asleep, or nodding in their armchairs, and his feeling of dismay settled like cold stones in the pit of his stomach. He hated the fact that a great man like Roy Owens, who’d spent his entire life on vast Outback cattle stations, had to spend his twilight years shut away in a place like this.

His throat was already tight with emotion even before he entered Roy’s room. But then he saw his old friend.

It had been six months since Jake’s last visit and the changes in Roy were more devastating than ever. The tough and wiry hero Jake had idolised throughout his boyhood had all but vanished and had been replaced by a pale and fragile gnome. Jake tried to swallow the fish bone in his throat but it wouldn’t budge.

Throughout Jake’s childhood, Roy had been the head stockman on the Devlin family’s isolated Outback cattle property in Far North Queensland. Until a few years ago, Roy had been a head taller than Jake’s father and as strong as an ox. He’d taught Jake how to ride a horse and to fish for black bream, how to leg rope a calf, to fossick for gold, and to follow native bees back to their hives.

At night, around glowing campfires, Roy had held young Jake entranced as he spun neverending stories beneath a canopy of stars. No one else knew as much about the night sky, or about bush lore, or the adventures of the early Outback pioneers. By the age of ten, Jake had been convinced that Roy Owens knew everything in this world that a man ever needed to know.

Roy could turn his hand to catching a wild scrub bull, or leading a search party for a lost tourist, or baking mouth-watering hot damper in the coals of a campfire. Most miraculous of all, Roy had endless patience. No matter how busy he’d been, or how hard he had to work, he’d always found time for a small lonely boy whose parents had been too occupied raising cattle, or training their racehorses, or pursuing their very active social lives.

When Jake had questioned his parents about Roy’s transfer to a Sydney nursing home they’d claimed that they hated that he had to go away, but they had no choice. Roy needed constant care and regular medical checks.

‘But have you visited him down there?’ Jake demanded. ‘Have you seen what it’s like?’

‘Darling, you know how terribly busy your father and I are. We will get down there, just as soon as we can spare the time.’

So far, his parents hadn’t found time.

But Jake’s affection for Roy had never wavered. It pained him that the old stockman, who’d been like a second father, was now a frail and lonely old bachelor with no family to support him. It tore at Jake’s guts to see him waiting docilely in his postage-stamp-size room. He was fighting tears as Roy’s face broke into an enormous smile.

‘Jake, how are you, lad? It’s so good to clap eyes on you.’ With a frail hand Roy patted a chair. ‘Take a seat, son. They’ll bring us morning tea in a minute. Come and tell me all about Mongolia.’

Roy’s body might have betrayed him, but his mind was still alert and, unlike most people who asked Jake about Mongolia, he was genuinely interested. He knew that horses were as important to the people there as they were in the Outback. And in the same way that many Outback kids learned to ride when they could barely walk, so did children on the steppe.

Roy was more than happy for Jake to retell the same stories he’d told last time. But, as Jake talked, he was painfully aware of the reversal of their roles. Now he was the one spinning stories and Roy was the grateful listener.

Two hours later, however, as Jake re-emerged into fresh air and sunshine, he knew that a few stories had not been enough. He was plagued by a gnawing certainty that he was letting the old guy down.

Mattie was in a very good mood when she came home from the doctor’s. Everything for the surrogacy was set to go. Gina and Tom’s frozen embryos had already arrived at the clinic and in two weeks’ time, when Mattie’s cycle was right, she would begin taking pre-transfer hormones. With luck on her side, she would be pregnant within a month.

She could hardly wait to get started.

Gina and Tom were an amazing couple and if anyone deserved to be parents they did. They’d been childhood sweethearts and their deep love for each other had remained unshakeable. These days they ran a farm on the banks of Willow Creek and Gina’s house was always warm and welcoming, always filled with baking smells, a pot of tea at the ready. But there was a little yellow and white room at the end of the hallway, still waiting for the baby Gina longed for.

Mattie had seen Gina on the day she’d been told she needed a hysterectomy. She’d found her friend huddled in an unrecognisable ball in a corner of the lounge, red-eyed and shrunken—shut down—as if someone she loved with all her heart had died.

Of course, that was what had happened really, because now the baby Gina dreamed of would never have the chance to live.

For Gina, of all people, this was the cruellest blow. Mattie and Gina had been planning their families since they’d played with dolls in the tree house Gina’s dad built.

Mattie was an only child and she’d thought two children would be nice, but Gina came from a big family and she had been adamant she wanted five. Her husband was always going to be Tom and they would have two sets of twins and then a single baby at the end, a baby girl for her to spoil and cuddle when all the twins had gone to school.

It was unthinkable now that Gina couldn’t have at least one baby, and as Mattie had dumped any dreams of a family of her own after the truly toxic break-up with her fiancé, she hadn’t taken long to come up with her surrogacy proposal.

For her it was a perfect solution. Gina and Tom could have their baby, and she had the chance to do something positive and life-affirming—the perfect antidote to heartbreak.

This way, Mattie figured, everyone was a winner and she’d wasted no time before putting the idea to Gina and Tom.

They’d invited her for Sunday lunch, a simple, relaxed, happy meal of roast chicken and winter vegetables, followed by berries and ice cream. After the other guests had gone, Mattie had stayed behind to help with the cleaning up. The three of them had been in the kitchen, Mattie washing wineglasses at the sink while Gina stacked the dishwasher. Tom had just brought in freshly chopped wood for the fire.

At first Gina hadn’t understood.

‘A surrogate pregnancy,’ Mattie had clarified.

There’d been a momentary flash of shock in Gina’s face, but it was quickly outshone by hope and excitement. Then Gina had seen her husband’s grim frown and doubt had crept into her eyes.

‘That’s a huge ask, Mattie,’ Tom had said. ‘Have you thought this through? You’d be carrying another woman’s baby, fathered by another man.’

‘I know, I know. But you’re both my best friends.’

Tom had tried to smile and failed, and he ran a distracted hand through his spiky red hair. ‘I can’t get my mind around the fact that a woman other than Gina could give birth to my child. That’s off the wall. Even when it’s a wonderful friend like you.’

That discussion had taken place six months ago.

Mattie had thought the subject was dropped and she’d been disappointed. The idea of carrying her friends’ baby had filled her with a sense of purpose, which she badly needed. After the breakup with Pete she’d cared for her grandmother but, since Gran had passed away, her life had felt…blank and not very meaningful.

She’d kept busy, of course, had created another book and that had been fun and worthwhile, but she’d still felt vaguely restless and empty. And then Gina and Tom had called.

Could they come around for a chat? Tom had changed his mind. They’d considered adoption, but it wasn’t their first choice and if Mattie really was still willing to carry their baby they’d be deeply and eternally grateful.

Now, in Sydney, after receiving the doctor’s reassuring news, Mattie was in the mood for a minor celebration, and she stopped on the way home and bought a bottle of wine. After all, she wouldn’t be able to drink any alcohol once she was pregnant. She also bought the ingredients for one of her favourite meals, a scrumptious potato and mushroom pizza.

If Jake Devlin was still in an irritable mood, or if Ange was hanging about the flat, giving out sour looks, she would ask them to share the pizza. It was amazing how often a nice meal cheered people up.

Back at the flat, she sent a quick, excited e-mail to Gina and Tom and then she took Brutus for a nice long walk. She was extra-patient when he wanted to sniff at interesting smells every few metres or so and when she got back, happily windblown and refreshed, she put one of her own CDs in the player—a very popular movie soundtrack.

She opened the wine and poured a glass, which she sipped while she sifted flour and kneaded dough and chopped vegetables for the topping.

The pizza was almost ready for the oven when she heard the sound of a key in the front door. Her skin flashed hot and cold.

For heaven’s sake, it was such a silly reaction. What was the matter with her? As Jake Devlin’s footsteps sounded in the hallway she concentrated on adjusting the oven’s temperature setting, but she knew it wasn’t the stove’s heat that made her face bright and hot when he came into the kitchen.

‘How’s it going?’ he asked casually.

Mattie flashed a nervous smile in his direction. He looked as devastatingly sexy as ever.

‘Fine,’ she said.

‘You’ve been busy.’

‘Not really.’ She tried to sound offhand. ‘I’ve made plenty of mess, but it’s just a pizza.’

He came close—too close—and stood looking down at the pizza, with his hands resting lightly on his lean hips. Today his shirt was respectably buttoned and there was absolutely no reason for Mattie to feel weak at the knees.

While Jake studied her pizza with surprising interest, she drew a calming breath. At least, her deep breath was supposed to be calming but it didn’t seem to help her. She was still distinctly fluttery.

‘That looks really good.’ He spoke with every appearance of sincerity. ‘I’ve never seen potato used on a pizza.’

‘Oh, you should try it. It’s delicious.’

Great. Now she sounded breathless.

‘I’ll bet it’s terrific.’ He smiled at her and his smile was more dangerous than his bare chest had been.

Mattie’s movements became jerky and nervous as she began to tidy the cooking mess. Without looking at Jake, she said, ‘It’ll be ready in twenty minutes.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t hang around that long. I’ve already made plans.’ He slipped his sleeve cuff back and glanced at his wristwatch. ‘I have to leave again almost straight away, and I need to shower first.’

Mattie smothered her ridiculous disappointment with an extra-bright smile. She supposed Jake was going off to meet Ange.

‘Enjoy your dinner,’ he called over his shoulder as he left the room.

‘I will.’

It was a warm evening so Mattie ate her pizza slices and drank another glass of wine out on the balcony with Brutus at her feet. The balcony faced the east, but the sky reflected the pinks of the sunset from the western sky and the light turned the water a pretty pearlescent grey. She enjoyed the meal immensely—despite the dull cloud of tension and disappointment that had settled over her.

She was very annoyed with herself for feeling low. Yesterday morning she’d been over the moon with excitement about living in Sydney alone. This evening she longed for company.

It didn’t make sense. When she’d started preparing this meal, she hadn’t really expected to share it with anyone and the sudden slump in her spirits was irrational. How would she cope with nine months of pregnancy and the ups and downs of her hormones if one unpleasant man she hardly knew could send her moods swinging like a seesaw?

She didn’t even like Jake Devlin!

Her low spirits lingered as she went back inside, cleaned up the kitchen and covered the canary’s cage. She asked herself disconsolately, What now?

Of course, there was one thing that she could always rely on to lift her mood. She fetched her art block, pens and paints and set them on the coffee table.

Humming to herself, she found a flat cushion, then sat cross-legged on the floor, ready to sketch an opening scene for her new book.

The idea for this story had been bubbling inside her for the past few weeks, but she’d been too busy planning her move to get started. This evening was the perfect time to let her ideas for the artwork come to the surface and spill onto the page. At last.

As always, her children’s story would start in her young heroine’s ordinary world—an old-fashioned house in an inner-city suburb, where the little girl lived with her mother and father, her cat and a canary.

In this new book, Mattie would begin with a bathroom scene.

She selected a pencil and sharpened it carefully, took a deep, happy breath and made the first mark on the fresh white page. Within moments, she was completely absorbed, lost in the enchanting world of her imagination. Thank heavens it never let her down.

The flat was in darkness when Jake arrived home some time after midnight. Last night he’d tripped over something in the dark, so he turned on a light this time and he blinked as the living room came to life, blinked again when he saw the clutter on the coffee table.

Surely Mattie, the neat freak, hadn’t left this mess?

Curiosity got the better of him and he moseyed over to take a closer look.

Blow me down.

The table was covered by a painting, which Mattie had obviously left to dry. It was a pen and ink sketch, coloured with pretty watercolours in a soft wash, and it showed the corner of a bathroom.

A little girl peeped out of a sea of bubbles in an elegantly curved, claw-footed bathtub. Bright rainbow-tinted bubbles drifted over the edge of the bath and onto a white fluffy mat on the floor, where a pair of pink-and-white-striped socks with lacy frills lay abandoned.

The long sleeve of a blue jersey hung over the edge of a wicker laundry basket and the cheeky face of a black cat peeked out from behind the basket.

It was such a simple little scene, drawn with an economy of lines and coloured delicately, but there was something utterly fascinating about the picture. Jake looked again at the little girl’s mousybrown curls and beady blue eyes and he chuckled softly. She looked incredibly ordinary and yet unexpectedly appealing. Not unlike her creator.

Mattie woke next morning to the unexpected sound of pots and pans being rattled in the kitchen, and when she opened her bedroom door she caught the distinctive aroma of mushrooms frying.

She’d slept in, after staying up much longer than she’d intended last night. When she’d finally finished work on her painting she’d lain awake for ages, thinking about the rest of her book, but she hadn’t heard Jake come in, so he must have been very late. How extraordinary that he was up already.

She dressed quickly, pulling on a T-shirt and jeans, and she made a hasty stop in the bathroom to wash her face and tidy her hair, then she entered the kitchen cautiously.

Jake was whisking eggs and he turned and grinned at her. ‘Morning.’

‘Good morning,’ she returned carefully.

‘I let Brutus out into the garden,’ he said.

‘Thanks.’ She blinked with surprise when she saw that he’d also filled Brutus’s bowl.

‘How did such a tiny mutt end up with a name like Brutus?’ Jake asked as he watched the little dog crunch miniature biscuits.

‘I’ve no idea,’ Mattie admitted. ‘I guess his former owners had a sense of humour, even if they were careless.’

‘Former owners?’

‘I have a good friend, Lucy, who’s a vet. Someone dumped Brutus on her doorstep and she needed to find a new owner.’

Jake stopped whisking eggs. ‘And you offered.’

‘Yes.’

For a long moment, Jake watched her with the slightest hint of a smile lurking in his eyes, then he pointed to the frying pan. ‘I found some leftover mushrooms in the fridge so I’m making an omelette.’

He looked rather pleased with himself, but Mattie refused to be amused or impressed. Last night she’d been shocked by her reaction to this man and she’d vowed to remain unimpressed by anything about Jake Devlin. With a little willpower, she could rise above the attraction of his broad manly chest, his sexy smile and his flashing dark eyes.

There was simply no point in getting hot and bothered about him. Apart from the fact that he already had a girlfriend, or possibly several girlfriends, he brought back memories of the one time she’d fallen disastrously in love and she’d vowed never to put herself through that kind of agonising heartache again.

Besides, no matter how attractive Jake was, he would be gone in under a week. And, very soon after that, she would be pregnant with someone else’s baby.

No man on earth would be interested in her then.

Not that she minded. This was her year for living chastely. She was dedicated to a higher cause, to Gina and Tom’s baby. When she was old and she looked back on her life, she would see this gift to her friends as one of her greatest triumphs.

With a breezy wave of her hand, she smiled at Jake. ‘You’re welcome to the mushrooms.’

‘Would you like to share this omelette?’

‘No, thanks. I’m allergic to eggs.’

He shot her a sharp, disbelieving glance and Mattie shrugged. ‘I usually have oatmeal.’

He looked momentarily disappointed, and she couldn’t suppress a spurt of triumph. Touché, Mr Devlin.

But then he gave an offhand shrug. ‘Bad luck for you. My omelettes are legend.’

As Mattie spooned boring oatmeal and water into a bowl and stuck it in the microwave, she asked, over her shoulder, ‘So where did you learn to cook?’

‘In Mongolia, on the mine site.’

She turned to him. ‘Really?’ In spite of her vow of indifference, she was intrigued.

‘We have this fabulous cook—a French Canadian called Pierre—and, whenever I’m at a loose end, I pop into the kitchen to lend him a hand.’

‘I don’t suppose there are too many ways to spend your free time on a mine site in Mongolia.’

‘Not unless you can get a lift into the capital, Ulaanbaatar.’ Using a spatula, Jake skilfully folded the omelette in two.

‘Are you a geologist like Will?’

He shook his head. ‘I’m an enviro.’

‘What’s that?’

‘An environmental scientist.’

‘So it’s your job to make sure the mining companies don’t wreck Mongolia?’

He grinned. ‘More or less.’

‘I guess that must be rather satisfying.’

‘It’s not a bad job.’ Jake lowered the heat beneath his frying pan.

The microwave pinged and Mattie gave her oatmeal a stir.

‘What about you?’ he asked casually. ‘What do you do?’

‘Oh, I haven’t been to university, and I don’t have what you could call a career. I tend to drift from one situation to another.’

‘But you paint.’

‘Well…yes. I suppose you saw the mess I left last night. Sorry.’

‘Don’t apologise. I was actually glad to see stuff lying about. Now I know you’re normal.’

His sudden smile was so charming that Mattie felt a dangerous flutter inside and she was grateful when a burst of song from the cage by the window distracted them both.

She darted across the room and removed the cover from the cage. ‘Morning, Pavarotti.’

Jake snorted. ‘Pavarotti?’

‘That’s his name. Like the opera singer.’

He shook his head as he skilfully tilted the pan so that the omelette slid smoothly onto a plate.

At the cutlery drawer, Mattie fetched him a knife and fork and got a spoon for herself, and then they sat opposite each other at the small kitchen table—and Mattie knew she was in trouble.

Her insides were twittering in time with the canary’s warbling.

Jake nodded towards the bird cage as he cut into his light and fluffy omelette. ‘So you’re a fan of opera?’

Remembering the heavy metal music he’d played, she almost said yes, just to provoke him, but her habitual honesty prevailed.

‘My gran was the opera fan,’ she explained. ‘She named the canary. I wanted her to call him Elvis, but he was her bird so of course she had the last say.’ Mattie realised that further explanation was necessary. ‘My grandmother died last year and I inherited Pavarotti.’

Jake nodded slowly. ‘You were close to your grandmother?’

‘Oh, yes. I lived with her and looked after her for the last two years of her life.’

Across the table, his dark eyes registered surprise and then, eventually, an unexpected sadness. He scowled and looked more like the gruff man Mattie was used to and the flutters inside her settled. She was much more comfortable soothing other people’s worries than dealing with her own fluttery insides.

They ate in silence for several minutes. Eventually, Mattie said, ‘Do you have something interesting planned for today?’

‘I was thinking of taking in a movie.’

‘On a lovely day like this?’

His jaw stuck out as if he didn’t appreciate her implied criticism. ‘I’ve missed six months’ worth of movies. I’ve a lot of catching up to do.’

‘Of course.’

‘Do you want to come?’

The question was so unexpected that Mattie’s mouth gaped unbecomingly. Her mind whirled. She wanted to ask Jake if Ange was his girlfriend. Or was he a free agent who hooked up with the nearest available woman whenever he was on leave?

She didn’t have anything planned for the day, but if there was even a slim chance that Jake was actually asking her on a date, she should say no.

‘I’m afraid I can’t come today,’ she said quickly and decisively, before she could be tempted to change her mind. ‘I have another appointment.’

If Jake was disappointed he didn’t show it, but after he’d gone Mattie sunk to a new low. She couldn’t believe how restless and just plain miserable she felt. The flat felt hollow and empty and she seemed to rattle around inside it—like a pebble in a tin can.

In a bid to think about something else—anything else besides Jake Devlin—she rang around the local hairdressers until she found one who had a cancellation.

Two and a half hours later, she grinned with delight at her reflection in the salon’s mirror. Chestnut and copper streaks had transformed her mousy hair, and an elegant bob flattered her jawline and gave a nice emphasis to her cheekbones.

She told herself she was doing this as a prepregnancy ego boost. The new image had nothing to do with Jake. But when she got back to the flat, she took a long bath and she changed into her best dark grey trousers and cream silk blouse and she put garnet studs in her ears.

She looked fabulous, but she felt foolish. Wouldn’t Jake wonder why she’d dressed up?

She was still trying to decide if she should change again when she heard the front door open, so she dived into the kitchen and pretended to be busy in the pots and pans cupboard.

Jake came down the hall, then paused in the doorway. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. ‘I think I’m in the wrong flat.’

To Mattie’s eternal embarrassment, she blushed.

‘I guess you’re going out?’ he said. ‘You’re all dressed up.’

‘Yes,’ she lied. As she closed the cupboard door, she hoped he couldn’t see through her fat white fib. ‘I’m meeting a friend for dinner.’

Jake nodded slowly, then said quietly, ‘Have a good evening.’

‘I will. Thanks.’

He was about to head down the hall when he turned back. ‘By the way, Mattie.’

‘Yes?’

‘The new hair looks fabulous.’

She was really mad with herself as she set off on foot down the street. Ever since she’d met Jake she’d lost her grip on her common sense. Now, she’d lied about her plans for this evening and here she was, wandering the streets of Sydney like a lost waif, looking for somewhere to eat. The really silly thing was she’d stocked the refrigerator with the ingredients for a perfectly good supper.

She decided to eat at the first place she found—a café a block away. It was a simple place with bare concrete floors, metal tables and chairs and selections of Asian-style noodles and stir-fries scrawled in chalk on blackboards.

Most of the customers were wearing jeans and T-shirts and Mattie felt distinctly overdressed, but she took a seat and was determined to enjoy herself.

She placed her order and asked for a glass of white wine and all went well for about ten minutes. Then Jake strode in.

CHAPTER THREE

MATTIE’S heart began a ridiculous thumping. Jake was dressed in black and his unruly hair was tousled by the wind as he stood at the café’s front counter. Framed by the doorway, shoulders back and feet planted wide apart, he looked unbelievably gorgeous.

She wasn’t sure if he’d seen her, but it could only be a matter of moments before he did, and even if she could come up with a plausible explanation, he’d probably realise that she’d lied about meeting a friend. Talk about embarrassing!

His dark eyes scanned the café and she quickly dropped her gaze, letting her smooth new hairstyle swing forward, hoping that it would hide her face. Perhaps she could pretend she hadn’t seen him.

Within a heartbeat, however, strong, confident footsteps rang out on the concrete floor, and they stopped at Mattie’s table. Holding her breath, she lifted her head and there he was, standing before her.

He looked directly into her eyes and he smiled.

Mattie swallowed. What could she say? It would be pathetic to trot out a feeble excuse about her friend being delayed. Somehow, she just knew that Jake would expose her as a fraud.

While she sat there, feeling silly, Jake held out his hand. ‘How do you do?’ He smiled with effortless charm. ‘I’m Jake Devlin. Do you mind if I join you?’

She expected to see a teasing glint in his eyes but, to her surprise, she could only find genuine warmth. Nevertheless, she hesitated.

‘Come on, say yes,’ Jake urged. ‘Otherwise you’ll force me to try my pick-up lines.’

‘Are they corny?’

‘So bad you could feed them to chickens.’

His confession was accompanied by a lopsided self-deprecating grin that melted Mattie on the spot. She suspected that Jake had seen right through her, but it somehow no longer mattered. He was wiping their slate clean. Starting again. And she was enchanted. Caught. Hook, line and sinker.

‘You’re welcome to sit here, Mr Devlin.’

‘Thank you.’ He pulled out a chair and sat opposite her and happiness fizzed inside Mattie like soda pop.

Following his lead, she held out her hand. ‘How do you do? I’m Matilda Carey.’

‘Pleased to meet you.’ Jake’s expression was deadpan. ‘Do your friends call you Mattie?’

‘Quite often.’ She gave a little shrug and added rather recklessly, ‘At times they’ve been known to call me Florence Nightingale.’ She didn’t mention the other tag that she hated—Saint Matilda.

‘Is that accurate? Are you a caring type?’

‘’Fraid so.’

The skin around his eyes crinkled and he cocked his head on one side. ‘Let me guess. You’re probably the kind of girl who cares for sick grannies.’

Mattie’s sense of fun faltered. Was he teasing her? Uncertain, she quickly changed the subject. ‘I’ve already ordered. I’m having the chicken noodle soup.’

‘I think I’ll try the beef stir-fry.’ Jake waved to a waitress and, when she came over, he gave his order. ‘And I’ll have a beer.’ Turning to Mattie again, he asked, ‘Would you like another glass of wine?’

She tapped the side of her glass. ‘This is fine.’

When the waitress left, Jake leaned towards Mattie, hands linked on the table top. His smile faded and, with it, all pretence dropped away. ‘Seriously, Mattie, I’ve been thinking about what you did for your grandmother. That was a huge gesture, to spend two years looking after her.’

She took a quick sip of her wine to cover her surprise, then set the glass down.

‘Did it feel like a big sacrifice?’ he asked urgently.

‘Not at all. Those two years were rather lovely. Gran was always so sweet. So grateful for my company. She never complained about her health.’

‘Was she very ill?’

‘She had a weak heart, so she tired easily and she couldn’t take proper care of her house, but I was happy to help.’

‘What do you reckon would have happened if you hadn’t looked after her?’

‘She’d probably have gone into a nursing home. My parents run a hardware store in a little country town and they were too busy to give her the care she needed.’

‘They were lucky you stepped up to the plate.’

‘I was happy to help,’ she said again. ‘Anyway, it was tit for tat. When I was little, my gran nursed me through the chickenpox and the measles and umpteen bouts of tonsillitis. Mum was always too busy helping Dad in the store.’

Unexpectedly, Jake frowned and he looked deeply pained as he rearranged the salt and pepper shakers in the middle of the table.

‘What’s the matter, Jake? Have I said something wrong?’

He let out a heavy sigh. ‘No. You’re just confirming my worst fears.’

‘Really? How?’

Exhaling another deep sigh, he rested his chin on his hand, and suddenly he was telling her about an old stockman he knew, someone from his childhood called Roy, who was now in a nursing home here in Sydney. As Jake talked about how strong and tough this stockman used to be and how shockingly weak and shut-in he was now, Mattie could see how deeply he cared for the old man.

‘My parents and I have let him down,’ he said quietly. ‘We should be doing more for him.’

On impulse, Mattie reached out and touched the back of Jake’s hand. He stiffened as if she’d burned him.

‘It sounds as if you’ve visited Roy whenever you can,’ she said softly. ‘There’s not much else you can do if you’re working in Mongolia, but I’m sure your visits mean a lot.’

His gaze met hers and his dark eyes were shimmering and vulnerable and something shifted inside her, almost as if a key had been turned in a lock. Oh, help. She’d been trying not to like Jake Devlin, but now she feared she was beginning to like him very much.

Too much. Was she falling in love?

Surely not. She mustn’t fall in love. Not again. Not ever. Certainly not now.

Gently, she removed her hand from his. ‘Did you take Roy with you to the movies today?’

‘No.’ Jake looked angry as he shook his head. ‘I didn’t even think of it. How selfish am I? Roy would have loved a movie. It was an action-adventure flick and they’re his favourite.’

‘There’s always tomorrow,’ Mattie suggested gently.

His brow cleared. ‘Yes, of course. It’s my last day, but that’s a good idea.’

‘Actually,’ Mattie said, warming to this subject, ‘if Roy’s an outdoor type, he might prefer to be out in the fresh air. You could take him on a ferry ride on the harbour. Do you think he’d be well enough for that?’

‘I reckon he might be. That’s a really good idea.’

The waitress brought Jake’s beer and Mattie couldn’t help watching the movements of his throat as he took a deep draught. Every inch of him seemed breathtakingly male and dark and sexy. She was beginning to think she’d never met such an attractive man.

Apart from her fiancé, the guys she’d dated had all lived in her home town and she’d known them since they’d first grown baby teeth. She’d gone to kindergarten and school with them. They’d belonged to the same pony club and Sunday school. There were no mysteries there.

Jake, on the other hand, was a man surrounded by mystery.

Pink rose in Mattie’s cheeks and Jake watched the telltale colour with mounting dismay.

His reasons for following her to this café weren’t crystal clear to him, but he supposed he’d been hoping for useful tips on how to help old Roy. One thing was certain—he wasn’t here because she looked cute in those sleek grey trousers, or because her new hairstyle looked terrific and brought out the blue in her eyes.

Hell, no. He wasn’t interested in Mattie as a woman.

She wasn’t even close to his type. She was small and serious and mousy. Well, maybe she wasn’t mousy exactly, certainly not now, but she was most definitely small. And earnest.

The heat that had scorched him when she’d touched his hand a few minutes earlier was not what he’d first feared. He couldn’t possibly have experienced hot, pulsing lust for her.

On the other hand, Jake didn’t want to think too hard about why he’d ended it with his latest female companion, Ange, or why he’d started hanging about the kitchen in the flat in the mornings, or why he’d casually asked Mattie to the movies today.

None of his recent behaviour made sense, and Mattie was giving out confusing signals too. It was as if she was trying to impress him and avoid him at the same time and, like a fool, he’d followed her here. He wasn’t in the habit of following women, but he’d convinced himself that she would be able to give him good advice about Roy. That was the only reason he’d come here, wasn’t it?

He wished he felt surer. It was a relief when their meals arrived and he could concentrate on eating.

Mattie declared that her soup was delicious—so full of noodles and vegetables that she ate most of it with chopsticks.

Which caused a tiny problem. Jake found himself watching the way she deftly used the chopsticks. Her hands were pale and delicate and graceful, possibly the prettiest hands he’d ever seen. He pictured her holding a pen or a paintbrush as she created her whimsical works of art.

He thought about the way she’d touched him a few minutes ago. Imagined—

‘What’s the food like in Mongolia?’ she asked.

Jake blinked, dragged his mind into gear. ‘Er…do you mean the traditional food of the locals, or what we eat on the mine site?’

‘Both, I guess.’

‘Our cook serves mainly western food, but the Mongolians eat mutton. Loads of mutton. They even drink the mutton fat. It’s no place for vegetarians.’

Mattie wrinkled her nose. ‘I rather like Mongolian lamb.’

‘The meals in Asian restaurants here in Sydney are nothing like the mutton eaten out on the steppe.’

Mattie accepted this with a shrug. ‘Do you live in barracks, or one of those little round tents?’

‘I have a tent. They call it a ger.’

‘It sounds rather primitive.’

‘Actually, gers aren’t too bad. The walls are made out of layers of felt and they’re quite snug. In winter we have a stove for heating and in summer we can roll up the sides for ventilation.’

‘It’s a very different world, isn’t it?’ she said, glancing out through a window to the city lights.

‘That’s part of the attraction for me. Then again, I grew up in a remote part of the Outback, so I suppose that made it easier for me to fit in.’

Her blue eyes challenged him. ‘Why do you work there?’

Jake had been asked this question before, but suddenly, when Mattie asked him, he wished he had higher motives. There was no point, however, in trying to pretend he was a paragon of virtue.

‘I’m footloose and fancy free,’ he said, aware that his jaw was jutting at a defensive angle. ‘And the job offered a chance to see a really different part of the world. But the big drawcard is that it pays very well.’

He expected to read disapproval in her eyes. To his surprise, she smiled. ‘And when you’re on leave you can party hard.’

‘Mostly.’

The obvious fact that he’d been partying when Mattie had arrived on his doorstep and the equally obvious fact that he was nowhere near a party right now was not something Jake wanted to analyse too closely.

‘Tell me more about your paintings,’ he said quickly to change the subject.

Mattie dismissed this with a graceful wave of her hand. ‘They’re just illustrations for a children’s book.’

‘Do you plan to write the story as well?’

She nodded.

‘Have you been published?’

‘Uh-huh. I’ve had three books published so far.’

‘No kidding?’ He knew his eyes were wide with surprise. ‘That’s terrific. I’ve never met an author.’

‘Most people don’t think of me as a real author. They assume that children’s stories are incredibly easy to write.’

‘How could they be easy, when they’re created entirely out of your imagination? And you don’t just write the stories, you do the illustrations as well. Aren’t children supposed to be the harshest critics of all?’

She nodded and smiled, clearly pleased by his enthusiasm.

‘What are your stories about?’

Now Mattie looked embarrassed. ‘Nothing you’d be interested in.’ She poked her chopsticks into the noodles at the bottom of her bowl.

‘Try me.’

‘Don’t laugh,’ she ordered.

‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’

‘They’re about a little girl called Molly.’ Carefully, she laid the chopsticks across her bowl and sat back, arms folded.

‘And…’ Jake prompted.

‘Molly’s actually a white witch and, when her parents aren’t looking, she has all sorts of adventures. She goes around doing secret good deeds and terrific acts of heroism.’

Just like her creator, Jake thought, and suddenly he was struggling to hide his amusement.

Mattie’s eyes blazed. ‘I knew you’d laugh.’

‘I’m not laughing.’ Why couldn’t he stop smiling? ‘Honestly. I’m seriously impressed. I’m sure Molly’s stories are very popular.’

‘They seem to be.’ Mattie sniffed, then rolled her eyes, as if she hoped he would drop the subject.

To make amends, Jake said quickly, ‘Would you like to go somewhere for coffee?’

She almost glared at him. ‘Don’t you have other plans?’

Across the table their gazes met, and held. Mattie’s eyes were very blue and steady and Jake had the distinct impression she was about to decline his invitation. Which was wise, wasn’t it? After all, they weren’t planning to hook up. To go on somewhere else for coffee implied taking another step—in completely the wrong direction.

Before he could think of a way to extricate himself from this trap of his own making, Mattie smiled slowly.

‘Coffee sounds good,’ she said and her smile deepened, revealing an enchanting dimple. ‘Your place or mine?’

He couldn’t help returning her smile. She was cleverly letting him off the hook, placing them back on their correct footing. As flatmates. For one more day.

‘Try my place,’ he said smoothly. ‘It’s very handy—just around the corner.’

A breeze was blowing in from the harbour and it buffeted them as they walked home, making it hard to talk. When they reached the flat, Brutus was as eager to see Jake as he was to see Mattie. Jake laughed as he gave the little dog a scratch behind his silky ears.

Mattie offered to get the coffee started, but she wasn’t at all surprised when Jake announced that perhaps he would go into the city for a bit, after all. She wasn’t surprised, but she was disappointed, which was utterly silly. She knew she didn’t want to get involved with him. But she also knew she was the kind of girl men left behind when something better came along.

She waved him off with a bright smile. ‘Have a good evening.’

‘You too.’

‘And if you take Roy out tomorrow, I hope you have a good time.’

‘Thanks.’

Jake paused on the front step and looked back at her as she lifted a hand to hold back her windblown hair. She twisted a strand lightly around one finger and tucked it behind her ear. There was nothing flirtatious about the gesture, but Jake seemed to be transfixed. His gaze scalded her as he stared at her hand, and then at her hair, at her ear.

His interest was so intense that Mattie couldn’t breathe. She swayed against the door frame and her legs threatened to give way. She’d never really understood what swooning involved, but she was certain that if Jake had touched her at that moment she would most definitely have swooned.

But Jake gave a slight shake of his head and the possibility vanished. ‘Would you come?’ he asked.

‘Pardon?’ Mattie felt dizzy and confused. What was he asking? Surely he wasn’t inviting her to go out with him for a fun-filled night on the town?

‘Tomorrow,’ he said with a smile. ‘When I take Roy out, will you come too?’

Whoosh! It was like having a bucket of cold water dumped on her head. A chilling dash of reality. Now Mattie knew without a shadow of a doubt that Jake hadn’t followed her to the café tonight because he liked her new hairdo, or the way she looked in her best silk blouse. He hadn’t shared a table with her because he fancied her.

And he wasn’t interested in taking her out now. The unflattering truth was—Jake was the same as everyone else in Mattie’s life—he needed her help.

Sooner or later, everyone turned to Mattie Carey for help, but this time, for her emotional health, she knew she must say no. She shook her head. ‘Sorry.’

He frowned at her. ‘Don’t tell me you have another appointment. What is it this time? A manicure?’

She looked down at her hands. ‘I…I need to get on with my book.’

‘Couldn’t you spare just one day, Mattie?’

His dark eyes were shining with sincerity, but she refused to be taken in. After one meal with him, she was already a mess. If she spent a whole day in his company, she would fall completely under his spell, and that was unwise. It was worse than that. It was ridiculous. Perilous.

She’d tried one long-distance relationship and she was still flinching at the memory almost three years later. She never wanted to embark on another, especially not now when she was on the verge of becoming pregnant with someone else’s baby.

‘It would be a pity if you couldn’t make it,’ Jake said, watching her closely. ‘I know Roy would really enjoy your company.’

At the mention of Roy she started to weaken. Poor old fellow. Was she making a mountain out of a molehill? Jake was simply asking for help to entertain an old man. How could she try to read romance into that?

And, after all, helping people was what she did best.

Behind her back, she crossed her fingers and hoped she wasn’t making a really bad mistake. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’ll come for Roy’s sake.’

As soon as Jake left, Mattie spread out her art things and started on another illustration for her book. This was to be a double-page spread and she wanted to create a scene with Molly at her bedroom window, looking out at the city at night.

She would show Molly and her cat silhouetted against the yellow light of the bedroom window. There would be houses dotted through the night, all with brightly lit windows. Through the windows, she would show glimpses of people who needed Molly’s help. A sick child, a lonely old woman, a lost kitten.

In her head, Mattie knew exactly how this illustration should look, but tonight something wasn’t gelling. She couldn’t slip into the ‘zone’—into the happy, creative space that usually cocooned her from the rest of the world while she lost herself in her work.

Tonight Jake Devlin-size thoughts kept intruding. She couldn’t stop thinking about him, kept seeing the way he’d looked at her when she’d innocently fiddled with her hair. She was sure she’d never forget the heart-in-mouth connection she’d felt, as if they were suddenly, perfectly in tune.

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