at court to support his wife during the case. ‘Truth is, if I get really involved, the line between work and interest blurs,’ she said.
As it always had with him. ‘I think you’ll find this interesting,’ he said. ‘The project is under way but the best is yet to come. You’d be coming on board at an exciting time. I want to open in June.’
Her eyes widened. ‘It’s already April. Isn’t that leaving it late?’
‘Agree. It’s cutting it fine. I won’t expect full occupancy until next year.’
‘When would you want me to start?’ she asked. He could sense her simmering excitement. ‘Because I’m firing with ideas already.’
‘A week. Two weeks max.’
She smiled. ‘I could do that.’ That big embracing smile was finally aimed at him. For a moment, he had to close his eyes against its dazzle. ‘I love the idea of an exclusive private island. Where is it? North of Sydney? Queensland? South Australia?’
He shook his head. ‘Greece.’
‘Greece? I... I wasn’t expecting that.’
Alex had expected her to react with excitement. Not a clouding of her eyes and a disappointed turn down of her mouth. He frowned.
‘My island of Kosmima is in northern Greece where my ancestors come from. Where I’ve been living with my Greek family since I left Australia. The most beautiful private island in the Ionian Sea. I’m sure you would love it.’
* * *
Of course she would love it.
Dell had always wanted to visit Greece. It had held a fascination for her since she’d studied ancient history at school. The mythology. The history. The ancient buildings. She wanted to climb the Acropolis in Athens to see the Parthenon. To visit the picturesque islands with their whitewashed buildings and blue roofs. There was nowhere in the world she wanted to visit more than Greece.
But travel had long been off the cards. She’d committed young to her high-school boyfriend and been caught up in mortgages and marriage to a man who hadn’t had an ounce of wanderlust in him. She’d travelled some with her parents and longed to travel more. Even to live abroad one day.
But there was something else she’d wanted more. Wanted so desperately she’d put all her other dreams on hold to pursue it.
‘I...assumed the job was in Australia,’ she said.
He shook his head. ‘No new venues in Australia for the foreseeable future. Europe is where I want to be. But I’d like a fellow Australian on board with me. Someone who knows about my businesses here, understands how things operate. In other words, you.’
So this was how it felt when big dreams collided.
Dell swallowed hard against the pain of her disappointment. ‘I’m very sorry, but I’m going to have to say no to your job offer. I can’t possibly go to Greece.’
His dark eyebrows rose in disbelief. She had knocked back what anyone might term a dream job. Her dream job. She suspected Alex wasn’t used to people saying no to him. But there was disappointment too in those black eyes. He had created a role just for her, tailored to her skills. She was grateful for the confidence he had put in her ability.
But she couldn’t tell him why she had to turn down the most enticing offer she was ever likely to get. Why she couldn’t be far away from home. That there was a chance she might be pregnant.
WHEN DELL HAD been a little girl and people asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up, she had always replied she wanted to be a mummy. They had laughed and asked what else, but she had stubbornly stood her ground.
She didn’t know why, as heaven knew her mother hadn’t been particularly maternal. And her father had verged on the indifferent. Both her parents had been—still were—research scientists for multinational pharmaceutical companies. She suspected they would have been happy to stop at the one child, her older brother, and when she’d come along when he’d been five she’d been more of an inconvenience than a joy. Her brother was of a scientific bent like her parents. She, while as intelligent, had broader interests they didn’t share or understand.
As a child, Dell had loved her dolls, her kitten, her books and food. Her mother was a haphazard cook and by the time she was twelve Dell had been cooking for the family. It became a passion.
At the insistence of her parents, she had completed a degree in food science. A future in the laboratory of a major grocery manufacturer beckoned. Instead, to the horror of her parents, after graduation she went straight to work as an editorial assistant on a suburban newspaper. She showed a flair for restaurant reviewing and articles about food and lifestyle and her career went on from there.
At twenty-two, she married Neil, her high-school boyfriend. He supported her in her desire to become a mother. That was when her plans derailed. In spite of their most energetic efforts, pregnancy didn’t happen. At age twenty-seven they started IVF. The procedure was painful and disruptive. The hormone treatments sent her emotions soaring and plunging. The joy went out of her love-life. But three expensive IVF procedures didn’t result in pregnancy. Just debt.
Then Neil had walked out on her.
Growing up, Dell had often felt like a fluffy, colourful changeling of a chick popped into the nest of sleek, clever hawks who had never got over their surprise in finding her there. She had become adept at putting on a happy face when she’d felt misunderstood and unhappy.
The end of her marriage had come from left field and she’d been devastated. She’d loved Neil and had thought she’d be married for ever. She shared her tears with a few close friends but presented that smiling, fluffy-chick face to the world.
Being suddenly single came as a shock. She’d been part of a couple for so long she didn’t know how to deal with dating. After a series of disastrous encounters she’d given up on the idea of meeting another man. Work became her solace as she tried to deal with the death of her big dream. Accepted that, if IVF hadn’t worked, she wasn’t likely to ever be a mother.
Then just weeks ago the fertility clinic had called to ask what she wanted them to do with the remaining embryo she had stored with them.
Dell knew she should have told them she was divorced. That her ex-husband was in another relationship. But they didn’t ask and she didn’t tell. She’d undergone the fourth procedure the week before she’d been fired. All her other attempts at IVF had failed. She hadn’t held out any real hope for this time. But she’d felt compelled to grab at that one final chance.
Now, the day after her meeting with Alex Mikhalis, Dell lay back on her cool white bed at Bay Breeze racked by the cramps that had always heralded failure. She took in a great, gasping sob then stayed absolutely still, desperately willing that implant to stay put. Her baby. But a visit to the bathroom confirmed blood. She’d failed again.
She would never be a mother.
Dell stood at the window for a long time staring sightlessly out to the view of the sea. Her hand rested on her flat, flat stomach. There was nothing for her
