burst of anticipation quickened his blood, and he frowned. Forget it. You took a cold shower, spent the rest of the day in a black mood then moved on.
Apparently not.
* * *
He’d barely got a handle on his curiosity when he pushed through his office door at GEM’s Mascot headquarters half an hour later.
He paused, noting her small start before she swiveled in her seat and looked up at him with wide blue eyes. Tellingly, she’d chosen the rigid-backed visitor’s chair next to his desk instead of the comfy sofa flanking the far wall.
“Hi, Matt.”
He let silence do the talking as he cataloged her appearance, from the worn blue denims, plain white V-neck T-shirt and oversized worn navy jacket to that red hair tightly contained in a low knot.
Man, that was beginning to piss him off.
“What brings you to Sydney?” he finally asked.
“You.” She paused, a small frown marring her forehead. “Can you sit? I need to talk to you.”
He shrugged and walked over to his desk, lowering himself slowly into the plush leather seat.
Was she here for a do-over?
Pride nipped at his heels, making him frown. He had half a mind to ask her to leave, but at the last moment decided against it. No harm in letting her talk, right? He could always say no.
He remained expressionless as he eyeballed her. She returned his stare.
Damn it, he wanted to say no.
Yeah, who’re you kidding? If she was here to have another go of it, he’d make her stew a little. Then they’d do it his way.
His, imagination went into overdrive as he considered the endless possibilities. He’d take down that ridiculous hairdo for a start. And have her wear something...red. Yeah. A strapless body-hugging red dress that emphasized her delicate collarbone, with those crazy curls falling over her shoulders. And beneath the dress—
“Matt?”
“Yeah?” Her sharp tone snapped his attention back to the present. When he finally looked at her—really looked—her serious expression set off all kinds of alarms. “What’s going on?”
“I need your help with something.”
AJ chose her words carefully, instinctively moving to cross her arms before she realized what she was doing. She linked her fingers together in her lap instead.
No, that wasn’t right, either. So she recrossed her legs and slid her elbows onto the chair arms, her fingers lightly gripping the ends. Much better.
Her brief composure dissolved under the weight of Matthew’s loaded question. “My help?”
“Yes. Well, it’s more like a favor. Well, not a favor, which sounds a little trivial, but more like—”
“Take a breath.” His smooth, cultured voice flowed over her, bringing the nervousness down a notch. “You flew down to Sydney to ask me for a favor?”
“Yes.”
“What’s wrong with the phone?”
“This isn’t a phone kind of favor.”
His mouth suddenly tweaked. “I think I know what this is about.”
She blinked. “You do?”
“Yeah. But you used to come right out and say it, AJ. Hesitancy wasn’t one of your attributes.”
What? She shook her head with a frown. “I’m not entirely—”
“—convinced we should do it?” He leaned forward, planting his elbows on the desk and clasping his hands, an expectant gleam in his eyes. “Wouldn’t denial be worse?”
AJ opened her mouth but nothing came out. This was so not going the way she’d planned. Instead of calmly presenting her situation, then laying out the solution in a businesslike manner, she’d let him stall her with one quirk of his sensual lips. Not to mention the heated stare, which melted her senses and sent her body into an anticipatory tingle.
It was déjà vu, except now they were in his office instead of the Palazzo Versace’s private cabana. And just like before, that evil little voice echoed: you have him ready to go—you don’t actually have to tell him.
Yet through the growing tangle of desire another more powerful emotion grabbed hold. Honesty. It’s what had stopped her the first time. It’s what would always stop her.
“Matthew. I...uh....” She hesitated, casting her eyes over his desk. There was a small mountain of files, a laptop, phone, coffee cup, scattered pens and paper. No family photos, no personal mementoes. The wall behind him held his various diplomas, a crazy-looking yearly schedule, medical diagrams and charts; it was the office of someone who’d had a life plan since he was ten years old. He was Matthew Cooper, work-driven, goal-oriented. He had been—and always would be—a career guy. Ten years later that was still blindingly obvious.
That realization bolstered her courage. “I want a baby.”
His sharp inward breath was harsh in the sudden silence and she paused. If ever there was a moment-killer, this was it.
“What?” he choked out.
“I...” She pressed her lips together, working hard to contain the swelling emotion. A few seconds passed, then a few more before she finally got a handle on it. “I’m thirty-two and single. I’ve met guys but none who—” She swallowed and looked Matt straight in the eye. “I don’t want marriage or a husband—just a baby. I’ve done my homework, even went to a fertility clinic, but my time is running out and it’s so expensive and things fell through and—”
“And you want me to recommend a doctor for you?”
“No. I want you to be the donor.”
He shot to his feet so fast it made her gasp. She stood, too, even as the ferocity of his expression had her inwardly cringing. “I did have someone lined up,” she forged on. “But he—”
“Who?”
“Just some guy. A donor—”
“You thought I was more convenient than ‘just some guy’?”
She winced. “That’s not what I mean. I’ve been thinking—”
“Have you?” His lip curled, nostrils flaring. “Since when?”
“Since you called me the morning after Emily’s wedding.”
He said nothing, just put his hands on his hips and fixed her with such a furious glare that it felt like her face was on fire. “Look, Matt, I know your job is your life. You’ve invested everything in your career—it’s what you live and breathe every day. I totally get that. Don’t
