 
### It Happened

### At

### Cafe Nix

One Contemporary Romance

Fourteen Authors

Fifteen Happy Endings

Smashwords Edition

Managing Editor Ainslie Paton

Copyright 2015 Ainslie Paton

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### It Happened At Cafe Nix

Edited by Belinda Holmes

Fourteen Escape authors, one contemporary romance, fifteen happy endings

Long distance relationships don't work

Nix Sutherland is at a crossroads. She loves running the family business, the famous Sydney Harbourside Cafe Nix, and she also loves Linc, whose vet practice is in Melbourne.

After months of jumping on planes and swapping cities, both of them too stressed and tired to enjoy being together, it's all come to a head. In the middle of a typically busy day at the cafe that includes everything from broken hearts to breaking waters, cops to canoodling couples, Nix realises that loving the cafe means giving up Linc.

Meet Nix and characters from the novels of favourite Escape Publishing authors in fresh original shorts, and experience a day in the life of Cafe Nix.

Authors in order of appearance:

Ainslie Paton

Menu Choices— _Morning Cover_

Elizabeth Dunk

The Silver-haired Saviour: In the style of _The Lies We Tell_

Juanita Kees

Under His Persuasion: Characters from _Tag Raiders Series_

Sandra Antonelli

Niagara Falls at Cafe Nix: Characters from _Driving in Neutral_

Jane O'Reilly

Hunk of the Month: Characters from _The Holiday Survival Guide_

Nicole Flockton

Bound by Their Wedding Plans: Characters from _Bound by His Desire_

Cate Ellink

Deeper Diving: Characters from _Deep Diving_

Ros Baxter

Stand and Deliver: Characters from _Lingerie for Felons_

Ainslie Paton

Menu Choices— _Lunch Rush_

Jenny Schwartz

Kissing Time: Characters from _Hero Duty_

Ainslie Paton

No Dick Moves: Characters from _Insecure_

Jennie Jones

12 Bells and a Baby: Characters from _Swallows Fall_ series

Lee Christine

In Safe Company: Characters from _In Safe series_

Lily Malone

Angry Birds and Turtle Doves: Characters from _So Far Into You_

Rhian Cahill

Christmas Wishes Do Come True: Characters from _Christmas Wishes_

Amy Andrews

Risqué Business: Characters from _Risky Business_

Ainslie Paton

Menu Choices— _The Close_

Chapters

1: Morning Cover

2: The Silver-haired Saviour

3: Under His Persuasion

4: Niagara Falls at Cafe Nix

5: Hunk of the Month

6: Bound by Their Wedding Plans

7: Deeper Diving

8: Stand and Deliver

9: Lunch Rush

10: Kissing Time

11: No Dick Moves

12: 12 Bells and a Baby

13: In Safe Company

14: Angry Birds and Turtle Doves

15: Christmas Wishes Do Come True

16: Risqué Business

17: The Close

About the Authors

###  1: Morning Cover

The crash in the kitchen and the burst of swearing made Nix rub her forehead. It was going to be a long day and they hadn't even opened the cafe doors for breakfast yet.

After six months running the cafe restaurant named for her twenty-six years ago, she still wasn't used to these 5.30am starts, and the days when she needed to work a double shift, not stumbling to her car until after 11pm, were a rare kind of hell invented for family members of successful restaurateurs. And maybe trauma surgeons, soldiers in battle, police at a standoff, and probably mothers of twins.

There were no medicos, Special Forces or twins running around the Sutherland family tree, but today was going to be a hell day anyway, so why not start it with a small fire in the kitchen.

"Coffee first," said Ramon. He put a long black in front of her. He looked over her head towards the kitchen hatch. "Alvaro's got it. Don't think we'll need the fire brigade. Drink and then yell."

Nix picked up the cup and sipped. The alarm hadn't tripped, so it was clearly under control, judging by the speedy Spanish interspersed with the sound of the fire extinguisher spraying foam over the offending flame. She could save yelling for the lunch shift.

Ramon laughed, his white teeth flashing, his dark eyes delighted.

Nix glanced towards the kitchen. "What did he say?"

Sydney's best barista shrugged. He was Filipino but had grown up on Bondi Beach and had the tan to prove it, though Nix knew he had enough Spanish to understand what Alvaro was going on about. "You don't really want to know."

Probably not.

And that was despite the distinct stink of burning plastic that was worse than the smell of the homeless guy Nix had given a bacon roll to and moved from the doorway when she arrived.

It was going to be a long day. After a sleepless night. After too many tears.

The homeless man had come back five minutes after Nix moved him on, asking if she could spare another roll. He got his second breakfast and ambled off, but as the door clanged and Tamsin walked in, Nix could see he was back.

"Jesus needs coffee," the newly arrived waitress said.

Ramon quirked an eyebrow at Tam. "You need it so bad you can't form a proper sentence, babe." He moved behind the counter to his barista station.

Tam shook her head and jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "No, Jesus needs coffee. At the end of this double, I'll need alcohol and a good foot massage."

"I thought his name was Henry," said Nix, looking at the homeless man in his torn overcoat with his greasy, whiskery face pressed against the glass. She was going to need to clean that door. And how did you get the smell of burning plastic out of a room? That's not a situation she'd faced when she'd worked shifts here as a student, and toxic smell removal wasn't in the handover brief her father had left her either.

"Yeah, it is, but today, apparently he's Jesus," said Tam. She made grabby hands at Ramon who was still working the coffee machine.

The words, "Estúpido bastardo," came from the kitchen, followed by annoyed banging on the glass door. Alvaro was in a temper, someone in the kitchen was copping it, Jesus was fractious, the smell was nauseating, and the coffee wasn't cutting through Nix's headache.

There was nothing in Steven Sutherland's handover notes about what to do when it was clear he wasn't going to be able to come back to running the restaurant either. Nothing about the fear of losing him to cancer, or the disappointment of having to leave a job she loved in Melbourne to come back home to the family business.

There was most certainly nothing in those carefully crafted notes, made with the expectation they'd help a temporary manager make do in an emergency, about having to decide whether to sell the business.

And not one word about what to do with a broken heart.

Tamsin delivered Henry Jesus his beverage, sipping her own. Ramon did something behind his station to make the scent of fresh coffee beans permeate the room, twining with the smell of bread baking, and the other floor staff arrived to join the kitchen staff, ready for work.

Nix had time to check the day's bookings, including the private function in the upstairs dining room for a prominent firm of lawyers who'd recently been involved in Sydney bikie wars and were bringing their own security. She revised produce orders for the remainder of the week and reviewed the roster.

She needed to interview new staff, she especially needed to think about appointing a manager to share the load with her. She'd worked too many hell days and until she re-staffed she always would.

Unless she sold.

That was the reason she'd been reluctant to take more staff on. On average her father received an offer to buy the cafe, with its prime position overlooking Sydney Harbour, the bridge and the Opera House every other month, so selling it wouldn't take long and a new owner might want to bring on their own staff.

If she sold, maybe Dad would stop worrying and focus on his recovery.

If she sold she could go back to Melbourne. She'd had to quit her old job but there'd be another, and there'd be Linc.

If that's what she wanted.

But it'd break Dad's heart to lose the business.

And it might break her own.

She wanted Linc. But Linc meant Melbourne where his vet practice was.

She'd told Linc she didn't know what she wanted, that she needed more time to decide. He told her he couldn't keep flying back and forth on weekends for forever, especially when she hardly had more than a few hours at a time to spend with him. There was always something she needed to do at the cafe.

She couldn't think about Linc now, about how they'd argued on the phone late last night. How she'd shouted at him. Then cried herself to sleep.

She looked up from her place behind the bar. The day outside sparkled, Sydney doing her flirty best to beguile, and succeeding. It was fifteen minutes to opening time, the only ambience coming from the kitchen was regular breakfast service sounds, Tamsin was windexing the door and Nix had lied to Linc. She didn't want to sell and that meant staying in Sydney. She just didn't know what telling him the truth would mean.

She moved out to the front of the cafe and helped Tamsin and Alicia fold back the big glass doors that separated the tables on the deck from those inside. It was show time and her headache was forgotten. As she straightened a chair and adjusted a table so it sat evenly, she felt the now familiar thrill of opening Cafe Nix to let Sydney, and all who visited her, in.

Satisfied they were ready, she looked across at square-shaped Circular Quay where the ferries docked, bringing hundreds of city workers in from the northern suburbs. On a bench near the iron guard rail a woman sat hunched in on herself, as though cold. She was there when Nix first arrived and she'd noticed her again when she'd given Henry Jesus his first breakfast.

She stepped out into the walkway and called to the woman. "Hey, are you okay?"

The woman turned and oh she clearly wasn't okay at all. She stifled a sniff. "My handbag is in the hotel room of my cheating fiancé and I don't know what to do."

Hell day had a way of getting around. "You need a good cup of coffee. Come in."

The woman lifted her empty hands to remind Nix she had no money. "Your boss won't mind?"

"I am the boss," Nix said, and she heard pride in her voice, pride she needed to stop denying. "Come in."

The woman's name was Maria and Nix knew how to solve at least two of her problems. Coffee, maybe a hint of breakfast, and the liberation of Maria's possessions from the hotel next door.

If only solving her own problems was as easy.

### The Silver-haired Saviour

Elizabeth Dunk

Maria thought she was coming to Sydney to surprise her fiancé, but it turns out she was coming to Sydney to find out the truth and change her life forever...

The Silver-haired Saviour matches the style and tone of The Lies We Tell, published by Escape Publishing in August 2013.

###  2: The Silver-haired Saviour

The sun had risen, the sky was blue, ferries were shuffling in and out of the terminals and people moved past. Some rushed, suits and jackets on, either on their way to or from work. Some ran, getting in the daily exercise. Some ambled, looking around, enjoying the incredible sights and sounds of Circular Quay, Sydney.

Maria Teroso looked at her watch. Seven am. Had she really sat here, wrapped in her misery, uncaring of anything, for nine hours? It seemed just a heartbeat ago that she'd been at the hotel door, sliding the card into the lock. Putting her bags by the door, tiptoeing through the dark apartment—it was nearly ten, and it looked like Bob had already gone to bed. Good, just the place she wanted him.

Then she was pushing open the bedroom door and seeing Bob, on his back. A blonde on top of him. The movements of their bodies, the sounds, the smells making it very clear what they were doing.

A veil of blankness settled on her eyes but Maria pushed it away. No, she'd already lost nine hours. She wasn't going to lose any more. She was going to face the fact she'd caught her fiancé in bed with another woman and then she was going to work out what the hell she was going to do to fix her broken life.

A tear dribbled down her cheek and she pushed it away. She couldn't cry out here, sitting on a bench on Sydney Harbour. She stood, and realised she didn't have anything with her. Handbag, suitcases, everything was still up in Bob's room, left in the wake of her devastated flight from the room.

The tears started in earnest.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Maria turned around. A woman stood at the potted plants that marked the entrance to the outdoor dining section of one of the cafes. She was small, dark-haired with piercing blue eyes.

Maria hated that she was in this position. She was a successful businesswoman, ran her own conference organising company. She'd just triumphantly completed a five day medical conference for nine hundred people. But she had no other option, nowhere else to turn. "My handbag is in the hotel room of my cheating fiancé and I don't know what to do."

"You need a good cup of coffee. Come in."

Maria took a hesitant step forward. Her back ached from sitting on the bench all night. The offer of a coffee was tempting. "Your boss won't mind?"

"I am the boss. Come in."

Wow. The woman was young, and cafes on this stretch of water were at a premium. She was doing well.

As Maria approached, the woman held out her hand. "I'm Nix."

Maria looked at the cafe sign. Cafe Nix. "I'm Maria."

"Come in and I'll get you that coffee."

Nix led Maria through the outdoor tables into the main part of the cafe. It was very modern—white tables, steel and black chairs, but the walls were wooden cabinets showing off wines and sheaves of wheat and displays of fruit and vegetables. The air was redolent with coffee beans roasting and bread baking. It was simple, but classy.

Maria sank into one of the tables against a black upholstered bench seat and relaxed back with a moan. She closed her eyes and listened to clangs in the kitchen as the chefs started preparations for the day's meals.

A cough, and Maria opened her eyes. Nix was standing there with a tray. "Coffee, milk, sugar, make it how you like. Which hotel is the cheating bastard boyfriend staying in?"

"The Q, next door." Maria picked up the cup and lifted it to her nose, taking a deep breath. There was something about a great coffee that could, in that moment, make all your troubles melt away. She took a sip and her eyes widened at the unmistakable bitterness of alcohol.

Nix winked. "Don't tell anyone, but I added a little kicker. You needed it. I know the concierge at the Q. Let me get your things for you. Cheating bastard's name?"

It froze on Maria's tongue for a moment. "Robert Sampson."

"I'll look after it. You relax." Nix walked away.

Maria took another sip of the very naughty, very welcome liqueur coffee. It was nice to know there were still good people in the world.

The cafe began to fill. A mix of all the types she'd seen outside—businesspeople, exercisers, tourists. One businessman who came in caught Maria's eyes—there was no way he couldn't, he was absolutely gorgeous. He was tall, with silver hair, but his face was still strong and unlined. The suit showed wide shoulders, strong chest and a flat stomach. Bet he's as much a bastard as Bob, Maria thought.

How had she not seen he was cheating on her? The answer came immediately—Bob just hadn't been that much into sex, so it had never occurred to her he would cheat. But that meant... It wasn't sex Bob had a problem with, it was sex with her.

Oh, God.

"Here you go." Nix appeared by her table. Two young waiters put down her suitcases—one carry-on, one huge hard case that contained a lot of the equipment for the conference. Nix put Maria's handbag on the bench next to her.

"Thank you." Maria pulled the handbag onto her lap and clutched it. Amazing how such a small thing could become so important.

"Pleasure. And don't even think of paying for that coffee—it's on the house." Nix nodded and shooed the waitstaff away.

There and then, Maria determined to do what she could for Nix. Okay, so she wouldn't pay for the coffee, but she was in events, had contacts throughout Australia. She'd make sure anyone organising a dinner or cocktail evening in Sydney would consider Cafe Nix for the venue.

In the past, this was something she would have talked over with Bob. That had been the thing she'd liked most about their relationship, that she could get home from work and have a glass of wine and talk about the business with someone who understood. Someone who shared her passion for success. Luigi, bless his heart, hadn't cared one jot. He'd nod and smile and wish her well, but the conversation would go no further. Whereas she and Bob could talk for hours about how to deal with the latest financial opportunity, or what to do to market the business better.

She hadn't just lost a fiancé last night—she'd lost a real partner, a friend. But a friend wouldn't do that to someone, so had Bob ever been her friend?

Her stomach growled and she considered ordering breakfast—surely Nix would let her pay for that. Then she looked to her right, out toward the dockside where people were entering, and every part of her froze.

Bob sauntered in through the plants, the blonde on his arm. Maria hadn't noticed last night how young she was—early twenties, she'd guess, while Bob was closer to fifty. Slender—not a hint of the curves that Maria boasted.

They walked through the restaurant, heading straight for the counter, so they didn't see Maria. When they passed, Maria let out a loud expulsion of breath, stunned to find she'd been holding it.

Then panic rose. She needed to leave. Right now, before they saw her. She snatched up her handbag and stood. But how was she going to surreptitiously sneak out of here when she had two suitcases to move?

"Don't."

Maria's head whipped up and she stared at the gorgeous, silver-haired businessman. He was standing on the other side of her table and the look he was giving her—compassion? Pity?

"Don't?"

The man leant forward and whispered, "Don't run away just because he's walked in. I did it once and regretted it. Stay. Show you're the stronger, better person."

To her amazement, he pulled out the chair and sat. At her table. Feeling a little ridiculous, Maria thumped back down onto the seat.

"You don't understand," she whispered.

"I do. I saw the look on your face when he walked in and I recognised it. It was the same look I had when I was sitting in a restaurant six months ago and saw my ex-girlfriend walk in with my best friend, the man I'd caught her cheating on me with. The thing is, I got up and left, and for weeks she crowed about how hung up I was on her and how she'd destroyed me, and that had been true, but I wanted to put her behind me and I couldn't because the talk was all over town. Even had a minimal impact on my business. Now, I can't take away the hurt you're feeling right now, but I can stop you from inflicting that additional humiliation on yourself."

"Your best friend?"

The man nodded. "I got home early from a business trip, looking forward to relaxing in her arms, only to find her arms already full. I was thinking of asking her to marry me. That was a lucky escape."

"We are engaged. Were engaged." A part of Maria's mind was wondering why she was telling a complete stranger this, but her heart needed the comfort of sharing with someone who would understand. "I organise conferences and I was flying from the Gold Coast back to Canberra, where we live. When we got to Sydney, I made the decision not to keep going. Bob was here on business. I hadn't seen him for a week, and I wouldn't see him for another. So I thought screw the cost. I got my bags off the plane and came here to surprise him." Her voice faltered, and then stopped.

The man put his hand on hers and the warmth was delightful. "Say no more. I can imagine and, I have to say, he was an idiot to choose that over you." He jerked his head to where Bob and the girl stood, arms around each other, waiting for their coffee.

"That's very kind of you," Maria said.

"Don't dismiss my words. I mean it. She's all angles and bones. Who would want to hold that? Whereas there's not a man alive who wouldn't want to hold you." His eyes drifted over her body and despite the nightmare she was in, a thrill ran through her. "And I'm not just saying that to make you feel better. Why do you think I was able to notice the look on your face? I've been staring at you. Trying to decide which line would be the best to approach you with."

Maria blushed. Her husband, Luigi, bless his soul, had told her so every day until the cancer finally took him. When she'd finally opened her heart again, there had been Bob, although now she thought on it, he'd never actually complimented her looks. He'd been all about her intelligence, her business savvy, how much he admired her. Now she had to wonder if he'd ever been attracted to her and if not, had they actually been in love...

She pushed that aside. Conversation with this silver-haired Casanova was much more exciting than her memories. "Did you make a decision?"

"I was wavering between a simple 'Hi' and 'Please tell me you're from around here so we can make plans for dinner' when I saw horror flash your face, saw who you were looking at, figured what it was about and realised I had to come save you."

"I'm glad you did and for the record, you should have gone with 'Hi'."

"In that case..." He grinned and Maria's heart gave a little flip, while other parts of her body tingled. "Hi, I'm Adam Robinson."

"Maria Teroso." She would have shaken his hand, but it was still trapped beneath his. And she liked it.

"So, what's a gorgeous woman like you doing sitting all alone in a cafe at seven in the morning?"

"Really? Having gone with the simple elegance of 'Hi', you're going to follow up with that?"

"Good point." He paused a moment, obviously considering his next words. "So, what do you do, Maria?"

Maria smiled. So, he wanted to play that they'd never had any previous conversation? "I organise conferences. You?"

"I'm in finance. Organising conferences must be a stressful job."

"It can be. But the moment when the conference is on, and you see all the delegates getting involved, enjoying it, learning, networking, and you realise you made that happen—that makes all the stress worthwhile. Finance isn't exactly a stress free job."

"Finance can be a fickle mistress, but one I cannot leave." At the word mistress, Maria's eyes flicked to Bob and his girl. They had their coffee but were holding them away from their bodies while attempting to suck each other's face off.

"Sorry," Adam said. "Bad choice of words."

Maria looked back at him. "No, I have to get used to it. Either he picked her up between flying in yesterday morning and having meetings in which case he's a total sleazeball, or he's been seeing her every time he came to Sydney and I'm an idiot."

"Oh, he's definitely a sleazeball, but you're not an idiot. You trust with your whole heart. That's important in a relationship."

Maria's gaze slid to Bob. "I'm not sure I'll trust again."

Adam squeezed her hand, drawing her attention. "Not all men are like Bob, or my best mate. Some of us would never dream of hurting someone we care about."

"Luigi certainly wouldn't have." A soft smile curved her lips.

"Luigi?"

"My husband. He died six years ago of cancer."

"Maria, I'm so sorry." Adam lifted her hand and clasped it in both of his. "I can't imagine what it would be like to nurse the person you love through that."

"Luigi made it easy. To the end, his love of life and laughter never faded. The day he died, we were laughing as hard as we did the day we married." Maria sighed. "I was a fool to think I could find that again."

"Don't think like that. I'd hate to think you'd live the rest of your life never being loved."

He sounded so sincere, it warmed Maria's heart. "When you put it like that, I'd hate it too."

Adam leant forward and grinned, and there was something a little animalistic in his look that made Maria's mind lose track of where it was. "So let's see if we can't think of who you could possibly explore finding this great new love with."

"Mr Robinson. How wonderful to bump into you like this. My name is Robert Sampson and I work in finance, like you. I've been hoping we would meet."

Maria stared, open-mouthed, at the apparition by the table that was her ex-fiancé. Bob was looking at Adam—he either hadn't seen her, or was ignoring her. The blonde stood a few steps back, eyes moving from Bob to Adam and back assessingly.

Adam looked up at Bob. "Have you?" he drawled in a voice that clearly said, to Maria, go away.

Bob obviously didn't hear it. "I run Sampson and Associates, in Canberra. We're starting to move into some interesting clientele—government, you know—and I'm looking for partners here in Sydney. I think Robinson Financial Services and SAA would be a great fit. How about I buy you a coffee and we can discuss it?"

Maria had heard that tone in Bob's voice before. Toadying. Ingratiating. Wheedling. He always turned that tone on when he was approaching someone who was bigger and better than him. Someone who he hoped he could hook up with to pull his struggling financial consultancy along.

Then she realised—when they'd first met, he'd used that tone with her. She'd been flattered, and intrigued, by him and his blatant confidence and when he'd suggested they have dinner together, she hadn't hesitated in saying yes. He was nothing like Luigi, but that didn't mean there was anything wrong with him. But looking back, it was now clear there hadn't been anything romantic in their initial discussions at all—he'd seen her merely as someone to help him with his business. She was more successful and she was part of the inner circle of Canberra business that he dreamed of. It was only when other people had started commenting on them being a couple that he'd made any romantic overtures to her.

Lord—had their entire relationship been built on his desire to use her business connections to improve his?

Adam narrowed his eyes, then looked at Maria. "What do you think, Maria? Should I let him buy me a coffee?"

Bob's head snapped sideways and he stared at her. What was that expression on his face? Horror? Anger? Surprise? "Maria?"

Maria turned her gaze from Bob to Adam, who was watching her quizzically. "What do you think?" Adam said again.

That Bob had used that tone on Adam told Maria that Adam was probably a pretty big fish in the financial services pond. Adam should know something of the man proposing a business deal with him.

"Did you know," Maria said, "that when I walked in the room last night, Bob actually said 'This isn't what it looks like'. I'm still trying to work out what else it could have been. They were both naked and she was riding him like a bronco."

"Wow, that's an insult to your intelligence," Adam said.

Bob made a terrible choking sound. Maria ignored him. "That's what I thought. Now, it's up to you whether you want to do business with a person that can so misjudge another person's intelligence—"

"Maria!" Bob's shout came out with a squeak. "Can we talk?"

Maria glared up at him. "No, we can't." She looked back at Adam. "I'd do some study of his company before you meet if I were you. I know nothing about this move into interesting clientele he is talking about and as of—" She looked at her watch, "—nine and a half hours ago, I was his fiancée and we shared a bookkeeper so I know a lot about his business." She smiled at Bob. "Actually, I think you'll need to do something about that. Helga can't work for both of us, and I'm willing to bet she'll choose me rather than you. Particularly as I've been paying the bill for us both."

It was glorious, watching the shock, then the pain, then the terror pass over Bob's expression.

He turned to Adam. "Mate, you can't listen to her. Maria and I broke up a few weeks ago, and she's taken it really badly. She's been badmouthing me, stalking me. She turned up at my hotel room last night, for goodness sake. Let me get you that coffee, and I can tell you about my portfolio and you'll see SAA is well worth the investment."

By the end of his little speech, Maria's eyes were so wide with astonishment that they hurt. "You liar!"

She looked at Adam and he looked thoughtful, pensive. No, she thought. He believes Bob. What will I do?

Adam nodded, as if he'd reached a decision, then stood. He was several inches taller than Bob, and the other man was forced to look up and concede the ground.

When Adam spoke, his words were devastating. "In the last three financial quarters, SAA has made a loss. There's been two dozen complaints lodged against you with the financial services ombudsman since the beginning of the financial year. I'm guessing that if you don't get some financial input from a partner in the next few weeks, you will have to file for bankruptcy and you'll never be able to work in the industry again. There's no doubt in my mind that you're incompetent—I've yet to find the evidence to prove that you've broken the law, but I'm sure I will. Neither I, nor any other company in the industry, will touch you."

By the end, Bob had slumped into the chair of the table behind him. "How...how do you know all that?"

Adam sat. "When you first requested an interview with me, I had you investigated. I've just given you all the reasons I said no to that first request, and the subsequent three requests. It's why I'm saying no to you now as well, although I had to give Maria the chance to hurt you the way you hurt her last night. Don't for one minute think I believe the slander you just made against her and if I hear you repeat that to anyone, not only will I encourage her to sue you for everything, but I'll bankroll the suit." Adam turned to Maria. "If you don't mind, while I'm sure your bookkeeper is excellent, I'd like to recommend someone in Canberra to go through all your finances and make sure this toad hasn't ripped you off."

"Thank you," Maria said, "although I think I'd prefer you do it."

Adam shook his head. "I don't think that would be wise. We shouldn't start a business relationship when I'd much rather start a more personal one."

With that, the last pain of Bob's betrayal melted away and Maria was left with nothing but the certainty that she wanted to get to know Adam Robinson much, much better.

"A very prudent decision, Mr Robinson," she said.

"I'm glad you agree, Ms Tesoro." Adam glanced at Bob. "Can you leave please? I'd like to get on with seducing Maria and it's difficult with her ex-fiancé sitting next to us."

Bob stumbled to his feet and looked around. Maria noted that at some point during the conversation, the blonde had left. Perhaps when she heard of the dire financial straits Bob was in.

Maria watched the man she had planned to marry walk out of the cafe, shattered and broken. She tried to feel some sympathy for him but couldn't muster it. He'd been a bastard, through and through. He deserved nothing from her.

"Now, where was I..." At the sound of Adam's voice, Maria turned her attention back to him. He picked up her hand and started to stroke it and shivers of pleasure moved through her body. "Ah, that's right. Please tell me you're from around here so we can make plans for dinner."

Maria laughed. Maybe she wouldn't spend the rest of her life unloved after all.

About The Lies We Tell by Elizabeth Dunk

Ten years ago, Todd Lansing stood over his father's grave, his heart thumping out curses on Sia Collins for causing his death. When he returns to Oberon and sees Sia again, his heart thumps with a different emotion, one he fights with all the anger he still feels.

Sia didn't commit the break-in that ended up killing Mr Lansing, but to admit that would send her father to jail. She has rebuilt her life in the small town, atoned for her accused crime, and carved out a niche using her talent with paint to reach out to the community, raise funds, and support her family.

When Todd finds out the truth, he can't understand why Sia won't speak out and clear her name, and it threatens to tear them apart. With her relationship with Todd on the line, will Sia choose loyalty or love?
Under His Persuasion

Juanita Kees

Detective Mark Johnson wants nothing more than to bring the men behind the Tag Raiders street gang to their knees...until meeting Lily Bennetti makes it personal.

### 

###  3: Under His Persuasion

Not the normal setup in which to propose to the woman he loved, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

Detective Mark Johnson sat back and studied the motley crew at his breakfast table at Cafe Nix. Who would have guessed they'd scrub up so well? Despite the horrors the boys had experienced at the hands of the Tag Raiders street gang, Marty and Luke had embraced the apprenticeship program and committed to rehabilitation at TJ Devin's centre. He couldn't be prouder if he'd fathered them himself.

But he couldn't take all the credit. Without Scott and TJ Devin, the Tiny Watts Rehabilitation centre would never have existed, and Lily—his beautiful angel—and her son, Luke, would be dead.

He turned his head to where she sat next to him, her face glowing with pride as she chatted to TJ. Gone were the bruises her late husband Gino Bennetti had put on her body with his cruel hands. Mark reached out to wrap a blonde curl around his finger, brushing the tiny white scar on her cheekbone. He gave the curl a gentle tug.

Lily's gaze slammed into his. God, he loved the impact of that look. The love and trust in her eyes, the naughty twinkle he'd put there earlier this morning when he'd worshipped her body with his.

She leaned toward him, her head tilted to the side. He met her halfway and dropped a kiss on her warm, welcoming lips. Heat and an overwhelming love embraced him. Oh how he'd like to take it further, but the catcalls and whistles from the table had him smiling against her mouth instead.

"Later," he promised.

"You're on," she agreed then turned back to TJ.

"Horny bastard," muttered Harold from his right.

Mark chuckled. "You betcha. Jealous?"

His partner snorted. "Not a damn. Jeannie might be though." He jerked his thumb at his wife. "I swear that woman loves you more than me."

"Only because I compliment her cooking skills while you inhale the food without tasting it. What the hell are you reading?"

Harold flicked over the page of the dog-eared magazine. "A trashy mag. Check it out. Nudie shots of your favourite racing car driver and his fling with a chick he picked up while on tour here."

"That was ages ago. You're seriously reading that shit?"

"What else is a man supposed to do when his buddy is too busy mooning over his soon-to-be-wife to talk to him?" He flicked over another page. "Well, well, look at what we have here."

Mark knew that terse tone well. His gut tightened and his instincts switched to high alert. "Spill it."

Harold spread the magazine on the table between them and ran his thumb down the spine to flatten it out. "An article on our men, Gino Bennetti and Nic Albero."

At the sound of their names, Lily turned toward them, placing a hand on Mark's leg. He felt the tension in her grip as she squeezed. Two names that still haunted her sleep, turning dreams into nightmares. While comforting her after those night terrors led to more pleasant things like love and the reassurance no one would ever hurt her again, he really wished their names wouldn't keep popping up. He covered her hand with his, turned it over and entwined their fingers.

As her fingers curled tightly around his, he leaned closer to look at the photograph on the page and asked, "What's it about?"

"Guess we always knew those two were skanky lawyers with dangerous connections, but look at who they partied with." He stabbed his index finger at the bearded man between Albero and Bennetti in the photograph. "George Kavac, aka Kasun, president of Beyond Hell's Reach."

"Well fuck me, looks like we've confirmed the connection. Kavac and his gang have been up on charges for possession with intention to supply numerous times. They've got off every time thanks to Albero and Bennetti's fancy defence tactics. My bet is they're the suppliers the Tag Raiders were doing the running for." Lily's fingers tightened on his, her grip fierce. He turned to her to find her cheeks pale and her eyes haunted.

"George Kavac? Mark, he's a dangerous bastard." She shivered and leaned into his shoulder. "Please, please promise me you won't go after him?"

Mark's heartbeat snagged in his chest. He'd give the world to promise her he wouldn't but knew he couldn't. The reign of terror the biker gang had over Perth's nightclubs had to end. He and Harold only had one lead left to follow in this case and that was the youngest of the Tag Raiders, Connor Cappelli. This new information only added another level of danger.

Not today, please God, not today. He'd brought them all to Sydney to get away from the horrors of the last few months, to reward the boys for their hard work sticking to the program, to celebrate the official opening of TJ and Scott's rehabilitation centre and to pay tribute to Tiny Watts, the boy who'd sacrificed his life to save his friends.

Most of all, he'd chosen Cafe Nix on Circular Quay with its beautiful view of Sydney and the harbour bridge as the place to propose to Lily. Here, with the people he considered his extended family.

Harold closed the magazine and tossed it onto the empty table behind him for someone else to read. "Bugger it. We won't let those tossers spoil our day. I'll send word to HQ to pull some files and we'll sort it out when we get back to Perth. No point getting all worked up about it here. Where the hell's the waitress? I'm hungry."

Mark sent his partner a grateful look for his attempt at diversion. Harold was right. They had a new lead and would have to examine the evidence in detail before they followed it up. He released Lily's hand, put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug.

A squeal from the end of the table caught his attention.

"Marty!" TJ scolded across the table.

"What? I got her attention, didn't I?"

"By stomping on her toes? Boy, you need dancing lessons." Harold's lips twitched but he tried to remain stern.

"It worked." He grinned at Harold, twirled and dipped the waitress in one last dance move. He smiled cheekily at her and said, "Now I have your attention, can I have your phone number?"

The waitress shot him a warning look. He let her up, waited until she was steady on her feet, then removed his arm from around her waist.

"Marty! You apologise for that move right now." TJ's tone meant business and young Marty knew better than to disobey.

All charm, and with his fist on his heart, he said, "I am deeply sorry for my actions. Please forgive me." He took her hand and lifted it. Not quite touching her knuckles, he dropped a kiss in the air above them.

"Apology accepted." The waitress sighed, pulling her hand out of his. "Kids," she muttered as she walked away, leaving them to study their menus.

Mark smiled. The waitress couldn't be more than four or five years older than Marty's eighteen, six at a pinch. Not much more than a kid herself. If he was Marty's age, he'd have given it a shot at getting her phone number too. Now he had Lily, and thanked the angels for looking after him so well.

"Don't you dare do that again," growled TJ. When Scott chuckled beside her, she turned on him, "And don't you encourage him either."

"Sorry, TJ," said Marty.

"You're so sexy when you get mad." Scott gripped TJ's chin and kissed her hard.

While the rest of the table debated their breakfast choices, Harold said quietly to Mark, "It was Beyond Hell's Reach clubhouse that got shot up sixteen years ago when that young girl got shot and killed. Kavac broke code and messed with a rival gang's bitch. They came after him but the bastard got away. The girl wasn't as lucky."

Mark's grip tightened on his menu. How could the world outside the cafe look so damn bright and beautiful, when under cover of dark rats like Kavac, Bennetti and Albero crawled out of its sewers to taint the view?

"Remember the raid at the Golden Diva nightclub in Northbridge a few years back?" Harold pulled out the ever-present notebook from his pocket and jotted down a few notes. "The one that put one of our guys on desk duty with smashed kneecaps."

How could he forget? Mark hadn't been there. At the time he was working a case in Williams in the Western Australian wheat belt—another life, another time, another case too close to his family for comfort. His bastard brother-in-law had owed the owners of the Golden Diva money for his gambling debts. If only he'd known at the time that Albero and Bennetti were the sharks he owed, Mark could have taken care of them years ago. Then Lily and Luke wouldn't have gone through what they had.

"I remember. It happened at the same time that arsehole kidnapped my niece and took her to Williams."

Harold nodded. "Kavac and Beyond Hell's Reach again."

"We have to get them off the streets, Harold. Before we lose any more lives. We'll have to talk to the Capelli boy when we get back. Maybe he knows something the others don't. The last thing I want is for these three boys to end up back on the gang, and you know bastards like Kavac never give up. The only way we can truly save these kids and keep them alive is to put those wankers away for life."

"No argument there. Now that we agree, let's put all this shit behind us for another day. It'll keep until we get back. Might be an idea to tighten security around the Capelli boy, though. I'll check with Ethan and see if he's had enough of desk duties now his knees have healed. That counselling course he did might come in handy." Harold ran his finger down the menu, stopping at the Cafe Nix Big Breakfast. "Now there's a dish to fill a man's stomach."

"Make it two."

The waitress came back to take their order and it wasn't long before conversation at the table died to make place for the clatter of silverware against porcelain, and appreciative hums.

Half an hour later, Harold sat back and rubbed his belly. "I swear that meal was better than sex."

Jeannie punched his arm.

"What was that for?" He aimed for a hurt expression but failed miserably. He adored his wife, even when she glowered.

"Where should I start?" Jeannie smirked and counted his sins on her fingers. "One, if food is better than sex, you're not doing it right. Two, after young Marty just got in trouble for pinching the waitress' arse, I'm wondering where he got the idea from..." She eyed him meaningfully. "Three..." Jeannie trailed off as a petite woman with dark curly hair and watchful eyes approached their table.

She stopped and stood opposite Mark. "Hi, I'm Nix, the cafe owner. How were your meals?" A chorus of satisfaction whipped around the table. "Excellent, exactly what I like to hear. Now, a little birdie told me there's a fair bit to celebrate at this table, so—compliments of the house—I'd like to present you with a bottle of our finest champagne. Tamsin will be over shortly with some glasses. And this time, young man..." She looked at Marty. "Please keep your hands on the table? I'm sending out my best crystal champagne flutes for this toast. I'd hate for Tamsin to drop them."

Everyone at the table spoke at once.

"Celebration?"

"What are we celebrating?"

"Someone getting married?"

"Marty, did you score a date?"

"What? No!"

Mark held up his hand to silence them as the waitress unpacked the glasses from her tray around the table. With skilled finesse, she popped the cork on the champagne bottle and filled each glass. As she walked away, Mark stood.

"We do have a lot to celebrate. Marty, Luke...you guys have come a long way since you led TJ in a race across the city to save your butts. It's been a tough ride but you kept your word and stuck with the program. I'm proud of you, guys." He raised his glass to the two boys and the others followed. "To Marty and Luke."

When the echoes died down, he looked at TJ and Scott, and raised his glass again. "To Tiny, the legacy he left behind and the two people who embraced it to open their home to others like him. Cheers."

He had to wait a while to continue as Marty leapt up, ran around the table and hugged TJ and Scott so hard they gasped for breath. He shook his head. So different from the drug-addicted, troubled boy TJ had first taken in.

"Lily?" Mark put down his glass, held out his hands and drew her to her feet. His heart pounded against his ribs. "When I first met you, I was reminded of an angel. With each step we took, I watched you grow stronger, stand taller. That day up in Kalgoorlie, when you faced down one of the most wanted drug dealers in the west, I knew I couldn't lose you, that I would fight with my last breath to keep you safe and in my life." He tipped up her chin and looked deep into those green eyes he adored. "Lily, I love you so much. Will you marry me?"

"Yes," she whispered without hesitation.

As cheers broke out around the table, he took her in his arms and kissed her, taking his time to enjoy the taste of champagne on her lips, the gentle nudge of her tongue and the sweetness of her mouth. No rush...he had her for the rest of his life.

When he lifted his head, he saw Marty running around the restaurant, waving people to their feet as they joined in, clapping and cheering.

"See that?" Marty yelled proudly. "That's my family."

Mark's heart swelled with pride. He'd do all he could to protect his family. All he had to do was overcome one last hurdle. Beyond Hell's Reach.

Mark and Lily's story is told in Under Cover of Dark, Book 2 of the Tag Raiders Series by Juanita Kees

A new Australian romantic suspense, it follows Under the Hood, about a Western Australian drug gang, the teenagers they recruit, and the cop who wants to bring them down.

When Mark Johnson delves deeper into his investigation into the murder of Tiny Watts and the involvement of a teenage gang with sleazy lawyer, Gino Bennetti, and his drug world ties, the last thing he expects is to be interviewing Gino's widow, a woman in a world of trouble.

When her husband is shot and killed, it is both a relief and a disaster. Lily has her son to protect and secrets that run deeper than the scars she bears. Mark Johnson is the last person she wants uncovering those secrets, especially the truth about her son Luke's involvement in Tiny Watts' murder.

As the investigation continues and Lily's wounds begin to heal, she finds the detective easy to trust and the friendship between them blossoms into more. But the secret Lily holds places everyone in very real danger. When it is finally revealed, Lily could lose everything: her son, the man she's grown to love, her freedom, and her life.

### Niagara Falls at Cafe Nix

Sandra Antonelli

Sunburn never felt so good.

Niagara Falls at Cafe Nix is a prequel featuring Ella and Craig, the nervous Southern Belle bride and patient groom from Driving in Neutral, published in September 2014 by Escape Publishing.

###  4: Niagara Falls at Cafe Nix

Cranky Ella stared out at the Sydney Harbour Bridge from the cafe's shaded deck. Craig knew exactly why she was annoyed. He was frustrated too and only had himself to blame. They'd come here to escape Chicago's brutal winter and wound up experiencing Australia's brutal sun. Well, he'd experienced it.

And then some.

Craig pulled the magazine closer and wished that he hadn't moved. He looked down at the pictorial. He knew the story broke last November, just after Daniel Riccciardo won the Brazilian Grand Prix. The video had gone viral, and here it was again, only presented as a still life in glossy print spread right in the middle of a three-month-old magazine someone had left sitting open, right in the middle of a table, right in the middle of Sydney Harbour's busy Cafe Nix.

Cafe Nix, according to the Magellan's Postcards From Australia travel guidebook, was THE place to be seen in Sydney. Craig was certain the photos in the magazine laid out in front of him weren't the kind of "be seen at Cafe Nix" the Magellan's guide had in mind. The pictures were grainy in the way stills from home movies often were. Open-mouthed, Miss Grand Prix's hands covered her tits, but her hairless mons was pixelated—this was a gossip rag, not a skin mag, after all. Despite the pixilation of Miss Grand Prix's cootchie, it was clear what Karl and his tongue were doing to the sports model hovering above his face.

"Well, that leaves nothing to the imagination," Craig muttered as he set his cappuccino beside his brownie, which Ella had taken a bite of the second after the blonde waitress had placed it on the table, alongside an order of cinnamon toast.

Ella watched him and frowned. His face was a livid, sun-roasted red, his eyes glued to the images of Karl and his playmate. Craig reached for his brownie, breaking off a piece to cram into his mouth. He chewed, slowly, as if the action made his tender skin hurt more, and turned the magazine upside down. "Poor Olivia. This stuff is everywhere except the States. I'm surprised. I didn't think this crap would be big Down Under too."

"Formula One racing is popular here and Miss Grand Prix is Australian." Ella said. "I'd say she's rooting well for the home team."

"It looks here like she's rooting for the Austrian team." Craig chuckled and went on viewing the pictures. "By the way, root means fuck in Australia. I learned that back when I was an exchange student here in the mid '80s. Did you know that?"

"What, that you were an exchange student or that root means fuck in Australia?"

"The root bit."

"Yes, and that's exactly the catty way I meant it."

"Tell me something, Craig. Don't you think the video completely lacked creativity?" Ella shook a packet of raw sugar and ripped open the top. "I know I did."

Craig's head snapped up from the photo display. Wincing, he felt his brow arch and suspected his expression made him look like the sunburned, culture-shocked teenaged exchange student he'd once been. The overcooked skin on his forehead smarting, he said, "You watched the video?"

"Of course I did. I had to for Olivia. You know, we should introduce Olivia to Emerson. I don't know why I never thought of that before. She's gorgeous and he's hot. They'd be good together."

"You think my cousin is hot, Ella?"

Ella didn't answer. She dumped the sugar into the cocoa-dusted foam of her cappuccino and watched the caramel-coloured granules' slow sink into the coffee below. The crystals disappeared without a trace, the foam, like quicksand or mud, covering up the evidence of what had been there—like the pixilation tried and failed to do to the photographs. "So what did you think of the video, Craig?"

"I didn't watch it." He shook his head and bit into his brownie.

She gave him a look that conveyed she thought he was full of shit.

"I didn't." he said, mouth full, dark crumbs clinging to the corners of his lips.

She raised her coffee to her lips and her expression conveyed that the shit he was full of was now beginning to ooze from his pores.

"Okay," he said, "I was deeply, deeply curious about the video, but that was only because I thought you were in it."

Half choking, half laughing, Ella dribbled coffee back into her cup, which he appreciated because who wanted a spray of cappuccino on raw, sunbaked flesh?

"You thought I was in Karl's movie?" she rasped.

"Yep. When you first told me about it."

"But you didn't watch it?"

"No."

"Weren't you even curious?"

He shrugged. "Once I...discovered you weren't in it, I lost any interest I might have had. I wasn't really interested in seeing your best friend's soon-to-be ex-husband naked. And it would have been unprofessional of me to look at Internet porn on the firm's time."

"Oh yeah," she said. "You're the consummate professional. Like professionalism stopped you from following me out of Emerson's office."

"Well, you were wearing that raincoat."

"I thought you followed me because you thought I was Kerry Washington."

"I followed you because of the raincoat, then I thought you were Kerry Washington until you turned around, and I realised you were prettier."

"So I should write Kerry Washington a thank you note. Dear Kerry, I met my true love because he was stalking you." Ella had another sip and milky froth left a line on her upper lip.

Craig wanted to lick her milk moustache off, and lick away her morning sulkiness too, except it hurt too much to move. "I'm so glad I'm your true love." He smiled, not caring that doing so made his face feel hotter and tighter. "Do you still have that raincoat?"

With a sigh, she nodded again.

"Did you bring it with you?"

"Why, did you want to try it on?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of you putting it on and me untying the belt. It would be like unwrapping a present."

She licked foam from her top lip and scowled.

Craig closed the publication and rolled it up. "Why don't I just give these magazines to the nice hostess and we can talk about you, and me, and how you're going to slather me with a bottle of aloe vera gel as a Valentine's Day present. Christ almighty, I hurt all over." He set the magazine aside. It unrolled itself and flopped open on the photo spread.

Ella glared at him for a moment. Then her hazel eyes shifted to the lurid images. "You know, it was quite clever of Karl." She bit into her cinnamon toast.

"Clever? Hang on here a second. Did you hear me say slathering me with bottle of aloe vera gel, and I hurt all over?"

"Yes, I heard you. Valentine's Day is two weeks away," she said and had a sip of coffee. "It's clever because it's publicity. Karl was ranked twelfth in Formula One racing, but he's a bigger name now. Sponsorship has changed; more money will come his way. More money and different sponsorship means a better car to race."

"Why are we talking about your best friend's philandering about to be ex-husband and not about my sunburn? And why are you annoyed with me for having sunburn?" He popped a piece of brownie in his mouth and chewed.

"You were looking at the pictures when I sat down." Ella's cup clinked in its saucer. She sucked a slick of buttery cinnamon sugar from her finger. "And I was thinking we could do better than Karl and Miss Indy. I've been thinking of slathering you with all sorts of stuff I could lick off, but your sunburn makes it complicated, Craig."

Craig stopped chewing. "Just what are you saying, Ella?"

"Let's just say, I have the imagination that is missing from that video and it's too bad you're sunburned." She changed her seat, moving to sit beside him on the bench seat. She reached for the magazine and put her hand on his thigh.

He winced for a second and then smiled. Chocolate coated his teeth. "What, you want to use your imagination here, in a Sydney cafe? Won't that get us deported?"

With a snort, she pushed the open magazine back in front of him. "Now seriously, Craig, look at what they're doing and tell me, does that turn you on?"

"Is it your intention to torture me? Isn't my sunburn enough?"

"Ah, so the photos do turn you on?"

"What you're doing is turning me on more."

"What am I doing?"

He licked his teeth clean. "You're sitting next to me with your hand on my excruciatingly sunburned thigh, and it hurts, but it hurts so good because you're also touching my cock, which isn't sunburned at all."

She made a face. "I hate that word."

"Cock?"

"Yes."

"You hate cock?"

The petite hostess who had shown them to their seats was setting tables on the deck. She looked over at them, her dark brows arched, her mouth quirking in amusement.

"Shh," Ella said. "I hate that word."

Craig lowered his voice. "What's wrong with cock?"

"It makes me think of a rooster, a big white rooster like Foghorn Leghorn."

"What would you prefer to cock, dick? Johnson? Shlong?"

"How about penis?"

"How about cock?"

"Ah swear, Craig, Ah said, Ah swear..."

"How about my cock inside you?"

She inhaled sharply. "You and your fucking sunburn."

"So who's turned on now?"

"You had to say that, didn't you?"

"You mean my cock inside you?"

With a huff, she shoved the magazine away.

He wince-smirked and laughed. "Mm-hm. They lacked creativity. Right. I see. Looking at the pictures turned you on. Just how wet are your panties?"

She crossed her arms and crossed her legs. "Niagara Falls. We should be next door at Hotel Q, in our very expensive room boinking our brains out, not down here in this pretty cafe having 'mornin' tea' two hours after having breakfast, but no, yew had to go and get sunburn and Ah have to sit here and be all...frustrated."

Craig wondered if she knew she sounded a little like Foghorn Leghorn when she was mad. "You're frustrated?" he said, chuckling.

"Everyone warned yew how strong the sun is here in Australia." She shook her head. "Everyone told yew to wear a hat and put on sunscreen."

"I put on sunscreen."

"My SPF 15 wasn't enough for the beach."

"It was enough for you."

"Ah'm black, Craig. My African heritage gives me way more melanin than your weenie Irish forebears give you." She sat back and groaned. "You barely made it down here to the cafe. Ah can't touch yew and it hurts yew too much to touch me."

Craig scratched a spot under his arm, which was the only place besides his balls and ass that weren't a hot, painful scarlet. "Well, how's this, Ella?" he said. "Yes, our plans have changed. What I had planned has changed too. But there are always options and I don't mind improvising. So we're not going to the Opera House or Taronga Zoo today. We can still go next door and you can touch yourself, and I'll watch. Or, because I love you, we could pretend today is Valentine's Day." He placed his palms flat on the table and pushed himself up, his whole body screaming at him to stop. His skin felt as it if were about to rupture as he put his hand into a pocket and pulled out the little envelope inside. He dropped it in front of Ella. "Be mine, Valentine," he said.

Ella sighed and picked up the envelope. She opened it, pulled out the little red card inside, and looked at the small gold band and pink diamond attached. Her hazel eyes grew as round as her open mouth.

Smiling at her shock hurt so damned much, but Craig didn't care. "So, what's it gonna be, Ella? We go next door so I can get into a soothing tub of cold water and watch you pleasure yourself, or you decide you want to be my wife and can we sit here and talk about our future, and then go next door so I can get in a soothing tub of cold water and watch you pleasure yourself?"

You can find out what happens after the proposal, learn more about that viral sex video, and witness Ella's Foghorn Leghorn madness as her best friend Olivia takes over the wedding planning and meets Craig's cousin Emerson in Sandra Antonelli's Driving in Neutral.

About Driving in Neutral

Level-headed Olivia Regen walks away from her car-racing career and the wreckage of a bad marriage to take on new work that's far removed from the twists of racetrack. Her new life is about control, calm and the good friends that she adores. The first day at her new job involves getting up close and too personal with her claustrophobic boss, alone in a broken elevator. Her unconventional solution for restoring his equilibrium shocks them both and leaves Olivia shaken. Determined to stick to her plan, Olivia drives headlong into work and planning her best friend's wedding, leaving no room for kissing, elevators, or workplace relationships. But Emerson is not one to be out-manoeuvred. Can he convince Olivia that her fear of falling in love again is just another kind of claustrophobia—one that is destined to leave them both lonely?

### Hunk of the Month

Jane O'Reilly

The holiday couldn't last forever...

Hunk of the Month is an Epilogue, featuring Erica and Nathan from The Holiday Survival Guide, published in January 2014 by Escape Publishing.

###  5: Hunk of the Month

"Coffee," Erica said, flopping back on the low leather sofa. "Lots and lots and lots of coffee."

Nathan raised an eyebrow. "Sure about that?"

"Yes," she said. "And make it the real deal. None of this decaf low fat sugar free rubbish. I want all the calories and all the sin."

"You usually do," he pointed out, but he was smiling as he shook his head at her. "You do know that it's hot enough outside to melt rock."

"All the more reason to caffeine up while we're still alive."

Erica lifted the hair from the back of her neck as Nathan turned to the waitress, a pretty brunette, and put in their order. Lots and lots of coffee for her, and lots and lots of food for him. The flight had been murder, twenty-one hours of sharing air in a confined space with too many other people. But from the minute they'd landed, Erica had been in another world. The heat was unlike anything she'd experienced in a long time, a total contrast to the sharp cold of home. And everything was so different. The noise and the smell and the accents of the people walking past. She felt almost drunk on it.

They'd planned their round the world adventure together. Six months of exploring extreme habits, with a book to follow. She hadn't been able to refuse. The man was built for adventure, and she knew how much he'd missed it. He was also built for the camera, though he'd deny it, which was why she'd agreed to let a TV crew follow them. Erica sat back in her seat, closed her eyes, and pictured Nathan shirtless and sweating under the beating Australian sun. Then she pictured sleeping outside and eating bugs. Ugh. But no pain, no gain. She knew that better than most.

"You've got that look," Nathan said.

Erica opened her eyes. "What look?"

"That look," he said, leaning forward and picking up the magazine that sat on the table in front of him. "Were you thinking about eating crickets again?" He opened the magazine and studied it closely.

"Nathan," she said. "You're reading that upside down."

"We're in the land Down Under," he said. "We are upside down." He flicked through a few more pages. There was a pause, and she thought she heard him swear, but that could have been her imagination. Jet lag did funny things to her brain.

Erica leaned forward and plucked the magazine from his grip. "I did not have a look on my face," she said. "And I was not thinking about eating crickets." Or any of the other things. "I was thinking about you striding across the outback, shirtless and sweating."

"You are aware that we're making a serious documentary," he said. "With the aim of promoting environmental awareness."

"I was being completely serious," she said. But Nathan did have a history for this sort of thing, so in her view it wasn't unreasonable to consider it. When he'd made his first TV series, the gossip mags had dubbed him the stripping survivalist. Erica grinned, spun the magazine round.

Her fingers tightened on the shiny paper when she saw which magazine it was. Guilty Pleasures. Her amusement faded. The gossip mags had also done a lot of things that weren't funny. She used to think that they were doing the world a favour, that the public deserved to know the truth about their heroes. She'd built her career on uncovering the private lives of the rich and famous. She'd been damned good at it, too. Then she'd met Nathan, and for the first time, she'd been forced to confront the damage that she'd caused.

And deal with it.

"Don't look at it," Nathan said, but the waitress arrived with their drinks before he could protest further. Lemonade for him, and a vat of coffee for Erica. Ice filled her glass, which was tall and elegant, with a beautiful curving handle. She lifted it and took a sip. Perfect.

"Why not?" She flipped the magazine open and almost choked on her coffee.

There, on page seven, under the headline Hunk of the Month, was a photograph of Nathan. It was a modelesque shot that highlighted his eyes, and the curve of his biceps against a tight white t-shirt. Erica blinked. When the hell had that been taken? She flipped the magazine closed and stared at him.

He stared straight back.

She opened the magazine again. Next to the photograph was a cute little column listing his attributes. "They seem to know everything about you but your penis size." It was all there. Career history, favourite food, age, height. Details of his new TV series. They almost knew more about him than she did.

"I told you not to look," he said.

"I can't believe they would do this," she said.

"It's fine," Nathan said, picking up his orange juice and downing half of it in one go, before starting on the croissants. "Really. It's fine."

"You're Hunk of the Month," Erica pointed out.

"The production company thought it would be good publicity."

"You should have told me. I would have put a stop to it."

"Erica, this is part of the deal," he said. "We both know that."

"No," she said. "The book is part of the deal. Me suffering through conditions that no human should be exposed to is part of the deal. You being Hunk of the Month is not part of the deal."

"Then you probably shouldn't look at page fourteen," he said.

"Why not? What's on page fourteen?"

"Nothing that would interest you." He downed the rest of his orange juice and stuffed another piece of croissant in his mouth.

The problem, of course, was that now he'd mentioned page fourteen, she wanted to look at it. But he'd asked her not to. "Fine," she said. She rolled the magazine up and shoved it down the side of her seat. There were more important things to think about anyway. She looked around at their comfortable surroundings. In another two days, they'd be as far from this as it was possible to be. They'd be finding their own food, their own water, their own shelter. Obviously the production team would make sure that nothing went too horribly wrong, but it was not going to be pretty.

The waitress walked over with another glass of orange juice and a platter of fruit. She slid it onto the table, smiling at them both.

Damn Guilty Pleasures. Erica's fingers curled around the magazine tucked at her side. She needed to look at whatever was on page fourteen, needed to know what they were dealing with. But she couldn't do it in front of him. She needed a distraction, something to get him away from the table for a few minutes. But it couldn't be anything too obvious. "You know, I think I left my purse back in the apartment," she said. "Can you get it for me?"

"You don't need it," Nathan said. "I've got cash. Anyway, all this is on the production company's tab."

"Hmm," Erica said. She pushed his glass of juice closer. "You should finish this," she said. "You won't be having luxuries like this in the outback."

"It's so kind of you to think of my health."

She wasn't thinking of his health, she was thinking of his bladder.

"Speaking of the outback," he said, "are you sure you're ready for this? It's not going to be easy. You'll have no privacy. There'll be a camera crew with us twenty-four seven. No showers, no toilets, no privacy. They're not calling it Go Wild with Wilde for nothing."

"I seem to recall surviving a week with you with none of those things when we first met."

"I'm serious, Erica," he said.

"So am I. I can do this, Nathan."

"It's not just that," he said. "This is going to change things. Hunk of the Month is only the beginning."

"You mean your head is going to get even bigger?"

Nathan rubbed a hand over his face. "Our lives are going to be changed. I mean, page fourteen..."

Erica finally snapped. "What, exactly, is on page fourteen?"

"It's not important," he said. "The point is that we're going to be under scrutiny." He finished the last piece of croissant on his plate, and then signalled to the waitress.

Whatever was on page fourteen, it was clearly bad enough to have him completely freaked out. Erica carefully tucked her hand down her side and curled her fingers round the edge of the rolled up magazine. She smiled at the waitress as he paid the bill, added a generous tip, and got to his feet.

"I'll see you back at the apartment," she said. She waited until he was outside. Then she pulled out the magazine and flipped to page fourteen.

And saw what had him in such a state.

She looked at the picture again, barely able to believe it.

But she hadn't been a journalist for nothing, and it took her only a few more seconds to notice what Nathan had missed. She tucked the magazine into her bag and strolled outside. Seagulls were soaring overhead, the sky high and blue. She instinctively braced herself for the chill of home. Instead, she hit a wall of heat that took her breath away. Ahead of her, she saw the tall, built figure of Nathan, leaning on the railing and watching the boats. The curving muscle of his back was clearly defined through the thin, clinging fabric of his t-shirt.

But muscle wasn't everything. Survival was about more than that. It took street smarts and determination and cunning, something that she had in spades. She fumbled in her bag for some change, gave it to the old woman sat knitting at the side of the cafe, who nodded and thanked her. She walked over to Nathan. He turned before she could reach him, and watched her approach, his eyes hidden behind a pair of dark glasses.

"If the show is a success," he said, "this is only going to get worse."

"Worse how?"

"Hunk of the month is only the beginning. Next it will be Man of the Year. Rear of the Year. Women are going to be throwing themselves at me. We'll be getting knickers through the post."

She'd tell him not to be silly, but he'd been through this before, and she knew he wasn't joking. "I guess you'll need protecting," she said. "Preferably by someone who knows when the naked arse printed in a magazine isn't yours."

He stared at her. "It isn't?"

"No," she said.

"Are you sure?"

"Trust me."

"Oh," he said. He pushed a hand back through his hair, but it couldn't hide the blush.

"Let's make a deal," Erica said. "You keep me alive in the outback, and I'll stop the gossip mags from eating you alive."

"I'm still going to need protection," he said. "Something real. Something I can rely on."

"What sort of protection?"

"I'm thinking a ring," he said. "On the third finger of my left hand."

Erica froze. "What?"

"A ring," he said, pulling her closer. "You should probably get one too. And we should probably get one of those pieces of paper that makes it official."

"You want to get married?"

"Yes," he said.

"Wow." This was unexpected. After the disaster of his first marriage, a disaster that she'd had a hand in, she'd assumed he wouldn't ever want to go there again. And she hadn't pushed for it. Hadn't needed it.

But now he'd suggested it... "What's in it for me?"

"I'll let you open the post."

Erica raised an eyebrow.

"You'll be able to survive anything life throws at you."

She shook her head.

"You'll be able to tell people that your husband was once Hunk of the Month?"

Erica considered it. "I guess you are the genuine article."

Nathan smiled. "And I always knew you were a Wilde at heart."

About The Holiday Survival Guide by Jane O'Reilly

It's going to be the holiday from hell...and that's just how Erica wants it.

When tabloid journalist Erica Parker is forced to take a holiday, she's determined to make it the most miserable holiday she possibly can, but not even her impressive imaginative powers could have come up with sharing a tent with survival expert Nathan Wilde.

Nathan was a married man with a successful TV show before Erica got to work on his life. Now the hottest man she's ever met is single, furious, and he's got her alone in the wilderness for three long days...

### Bound by Their Wedding Plans

Nicole Flockton

When Nick Rhodes springs a surprise on his fiancée Pamela Bishop, the reaction he gets is not what he expects. Will his surprise break them apart or will it bring them closer together?

Bound by Their Wedding Plans is a bonus scene with Nick and Pam from Bound by His Desire (October 2014 Escape Publishing Release) as they travel the road all newly engaged couples travel when it comes to wedding planning.

###  6: Bound by Their Wedding Plans

Pamela Bishop looked at the picture of the wedding dress and sighed. It was gorgeous. The dress was strapless with a sweetheart neckline, fitted to the waist before flaring out in a layered skirt that kissed the ground. Pam touched the screen of the tablet to enlarge the picture. The bodice of the dress was covered in a delicate lace pattern and beautiful crystals were placed to enhance the pattern.

"Oh my goodness, is that your dress? It's beautiful."

Pam looked up and saw Nix, the hostess, who had greeted her when she walked into the cafe. "I'm not sure. The dress is gorgeous but I wonder if it's too over the top. I'm not one for standing out in the crowd."

Nix laughed. "It's your wedding day, you're going to be the centre of attention. You're supposed to shine. And in that dress, honey, you are going to shine brighter than a star. I say go for it."

"That's what I've been trying to tell her for the last month." Another voice joined the conversation and Pam's body melted at just hearing it.

Nick.

Her fiancé. The man who held her heart.

As she looked up into his eyes, the love shining out from them touched deep into her soul. Dressed in a dark blue suit, with light blue shirt and a perfectly knotted silver tie, he looked exactly what he was—a successful businessman who was comfortable in his own skin.

Pam wished she felt the same about herself. Even after being engaged to Nick for almost four months, she still couldn't believe that he loved and wanted her. "And I keep telling you, that's not me."

Nick laughed and leant down to kiss her. The moment his lips touched hers, all thoughts of wedding and wedding dresses flew out of her mind. She reached up and cupped his head, keeping his lips in contact with hers.

"Well, I'll just leave you two to discuss weddings." The hostess' voice broke through the spell Nick cast over her every time he touched her.

Pam pulled away from Nick and looked back at Nix. "Sorry, and thanks for your advice. I'll think about it."

The hostess waved away her apology. "It's fine, no need to apologise. There's nothing more special than love. Enjoy your day."

As she turned and walked away, Pam wondered where the happy girl had gone. An air of sadness seemed to have taken hold of her.

"What's wrong?" Nick asked as he took the seat opposite hers.

"Nothing." She smiled at Nick as he toyed with the bowl of sugar packets on the table. "How did the meeting go?"

"It went well." He moved his chair until he was beside her, his leg brushing up against hers. "It would've been much more exciting if you were there." He murmured against her neck.

Pam's eyelids drifted slowly down, like a drop of condensation sliding down a glass. She let herself enjoy the moment of Nick's lips on her neck before she pulled away from him. "I seem to recall I wasn't invited. And," she paused and gave him a look. "Hands above the table, mister, we're in a public place."

He chuckled and placed his wickedly sinful hands on the table. "Whatever you say, sweetheart. Whatever you say."

Pam rolled her eyes. "Who knew the take-no-prisoners businessman could be such a softy."

Her breath caught in her throat when Nick's eyes lost their humorous glow and turned dark and serious. "Only with you, Pam. Only with you."

If they were anywhere other than a busy cafe, she'd have pulled him in close and stripped him of his Armani suit and shown him how important his presence in her life was. "Oh Nick, I love you."

Nick picked her hand up and brought it to her lips to place a soft kiss on the top of it. "I love you too."

Lightness replaced the darkness in his eyes. "I've got a surprise for you."

Immediately Pam's stomach clenched. "A surprise? You know I'm not keen on surprises."

Sure some surprises were wonderful, but there were always the ones that led to a lot of heartache instead of joyous times.

"I know, but this one... Well, I'm sure you're going to love this particular surprise." Nick flicked the cuff of his shirt back and checked his watch. "The surprise won't be here for about another fifteen minutes. Have you ordered coffee or cake?"

"No, I was waiting for you."

"Great," Nick pushed his chair back ready to get up and head toward the counter. "I'll go order."

Pam laughed. "Nick, they do table service here."

"Oh right." He sat back down and raised his hand to get the attention of a waitperson.

For the first time since they'd first met, Nick seemed as excited as a kid on Christmas morning. It was so unlike him. She wasn't sure how to take it. He was always so serious, focussed on business. Or focussed on her. Pam didn't mind when Nick was completely focussed on her.

The waitress arrived and they placed their order.

Nick started drumming his fingers on the table and kept glancing toward the door. The feeling of dread deepened. God, she hoped he hadn't organised a flash mob to do some ridiculous dance and expect her to join in. It's not like he needed to propose again. His marriage proposal to her was perfect.

"Nick?" She looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes, flirting with her eyes. "Will you please tell me what's going on?"

He leant over, touched her nose and smiled. "Nope, you're not going to try and seduce it out of me."

She'd seen enough of Nick's negotiations skills to know there was no chance he was going to relent and tell her what was going on. She started glancing out the door herself. If she started to see a big group of people milling around, she was going to run to the ladies room and never come out.

The waitress came back with their order just as a woman walked in. To Pam she was the epitome of a Sydney executive. She sensed Nick sitting straighter in his chair. Somehow she knew this was Nick's surprise.

Relief swept through her like a summer rain shower. At least it wasn't a flash mob coming to embarrass the heck out of her. But who was she?

The smartly dressed woman approached their table. Smiling when she arrived. "Mr Rhodes?"

Nick stood. "Yes, and you must be Roberta Newton. It's good to meet you. This is my fiancée, Pamela Bishop."

Roberta looked at Pam and smiled. "Ms Bishop, it's a pleasure to meet you. Mr Rhodes has told me a lot about you."

An unexpected spark of jealousy fired through Pam with the accuracy of an arrow hitting the bull's-eye of a target.

Sensing her discomfort, Nick placed his arm around her shoulders, squeezing gently as he kissed her softly on the head.

Determinedly pushing away the irrational jealousy, Pam smiled. "It's nice meet you too, although I appear to be at a disadvantage. You seem to know more about me than I know about you."

If her comments made Roberta feel uncomfortable, she didn't show it. Before Pam could say anything further, Nick spoke.

"Why don't you take a seat, Roberta, then we can get started." Nick casually reached around and stole a chair from another table.

"Started on what?" Pam enquired, getting a little frustrated with all the secrecy surrounding Nick and Roberta.

A triumphant gleam entered Nick's eyes and the dread from earlier returned in full force. "Planning our wedding, of course."

"What do you mean planning our wedding?" As far as Pam was concerned, she was going to be organising her own wedding. She had a vision for her day.

"Roberta runs the best event planning business in the country." Nick reached over and took Pam's hands in his. "I don't want you to get stressed planning the wedding, sweetheart. This way you can tell Roberta everything you want and she'll do all the legwork for you."

Pam pulled her hands away, anger welling up inside her. She didn't want to hand over everything for her wedding. She wanted to do it herself. After planning her former boss' vow renewal, Pam knew for sure she could handle the planning of her own wedding.

Looking at Roberta in her smart business suit. Not a hair out of place on her head and her tablet in hand, ready to take note of all of Pam's requests. Pam wondered what on earth had given Nick the impression she wasn't capable of organising their wedding? He couldn't be doubting her organisational skills, could he? Not after working side-by-side with him over the last six months.

Disappointment and disillusionment replaced the anger. Nick knew how important it was for her to plan their own wedding. Why the hell had he bought in a bloody wedding planner?

"I don't know what my fiancé has told you, Ms Newton, but I will be planning my wedding." Pam stood and looked Nick dead in the eye. Leaning forward she spoke quietly. "That is, if there's going to be a wedding at all."

Pam turned and, with more dignity than she knew she possessed, walked towards the ladies room. Not caring one iota about Nick or Roberta Newton or wedding plans. She needed to be alone.

Nick watched Pam's retreating back and wondered what the hell he'd done and why the hell she was reacting the way she had. He thought Pam would be happy to have someone help her plan their wedding.

"Umm, don't you think you should go speak to her?" Roberta said. Nick turned back to look at her, not really seeing the other woman or her sharp efficiency and attractiveness.

"I can't walk into the ladies room, can I?"

"I think this situation kind of calls for you to go after her. If it were me I'd be wanting the man I love to follow me."

Nick could see the logic in her words but still he sat. "I don't get why she got so upset with me. We've talked a lot about the wedding and I know Pam could plan it with one hand tied behind her back. She'd do an amazing job, but..." He scrubbed a hand down his face. "I thought I was doing the right thing. Trying to take the pressure off her so she could enjoy our wedding day and not worry if the DJ is going to play the right song at the right time. Or the flowers at the church turn up on time. Or the correct wine is served with dinner."

"I understand where you're coming from," Roberta smiled ruefully at him. "Perhaps you should've run the idea of hiring me past her first. Explained the reason why you want to hire a wedding planner." Roberta stood and collected her things. "I'll go now so you and Pam can talk things over. You have my number if you need it."

Nick nodded. How could he have been so stupid? He should've realised Pam wouldn't like the surprise. How many times had she told him she didn't do surprises? Too many times, but he'd hoped this one would be different. He'd been so determined to make life easier for her. Or had he done it for him? So he could keep Pam to himself and not become a second thought while she concentrated on the wedding.

"Where did our wedding planner go?"

Nick stood up so abruptly he knocked his chair over. He swivelled around and grasped either side of Pam's face, bringing it close to his. "I'm sorry," he whispered against her lips, before closing the distance between them and giving her a soft kiss.

A shudder wracked Pam's body and guilt assailed him, knowing he'd upset the woman who was his life. He pulled his lips away from hers. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Can you forgive me?"

Pam twisted out of his embrace and took her seat again, picking up her coffee and taking a sip. Nick couldn't read what she was thinking and he didn't like it. Normally he knew what was going on behind her gorgeous eyes.

When she placed her drink down very precisely, he knew she wasn't going to forgive him so easily.

He picked his chair up, sat and waited for Pam to speak.

The silence stretched like a finely tuned guitar wire. There was no way Nick was going to speak first. With his current track record he'd probably say something to upset her even more.

"Why did you do it, Nick? Why, after all the times we talked about the wedding while in bed, discussed various ideas, did you ever think that I'd be happy to have a wedding planner organise my wedding?"

Nick negotiated million dollar contracts with hard-nosed businessmen. He always won those negotiations. However, with the woman in front of him all fired up, he knew he didn't stand a chance of winning this negotiation. But he wouldn't roll over and give up. Nick Bishop never gave up and his main goal was to make their wedding day run smooth and be stress free. He would get Pam to see the light about using the planner.

"Sweetheart, listen, please. I know you want to organise the wedding but this is my wish for you. I want you to enjoy our wedding. I want to be able to spend every moment with you and not have you running off to see if the caterer got the right vegetables to go with the chicken." Nick waved his hand in the direction of the hostess.

"As she said. It's your time to shine. You're going to be the centre of attention and you should enjoy every single second of it. I want to show you off. I want the world to know what a beautiful woman you are, and I'm the lucky one who you're marrying." Nick leant forward, resting his arms on the table. "I can't do any of that if you're running around all day."

He caught his breath; waiting to see what Pam was going to say next. If she said anything at all.

"Do you know how many other women plan their own wedding and still manage to enjoy the day, without running around every second?"

"I'm sure there's a lot that do that, but they probably don't have dignitaries and other important people as guests."

"And neither will we. I'm not making our wedding into a circus, Nick. I don't want a huge affair. I want an intimate one. We've discussed this and you agreed. Why now are you telling me we're going to have people we don't personally know at our wedding?"

Nick took a deep breath; ready to use those negotiating skills he was known for. "I know, but I've been thinking."

"Stop right there." Pam held up her hand and looked right through him. From that first day at Luc's vow renewal she had always stood up to him. The only woman who had ever seen the man and not his bank balance.

"If you say another word I'm out that door. I swear to you, Nick. I'm walking away and I'm not coming back and you can tell your dignitaries and other important people they can go to hell as there won't be a wedding for them to attend."

God, he loved her when she stood up to him. Pity they were in a public place. He wanted to take that fire in her eyes and kiss her until she moaned and called out his name as she came apart in his arms.

"Pam, I know we said we would have a small wedding, but I've been wondering if we shouldn't reconsider. I really want to show you off. I love you and I want the whole world to see how much you mean to me."

"We don't need a huge wedding to let everyone know how much you love me. I know that and that's what's important. All those people aren't going to be making our marriage work. We are. It's us who will be arguing and making up. We'll be the ones making mistakes and learning."

"I understand everything you're saying." And he did. He truly did, but how could he make her understand he was proud to take her as his wife? How could he make her see that without her by his side he wasn't half the man he was now?

"Well, that's great then. You can call Roberta back and cancel her services. We can go back to having a small wedding with people who actually care about us as a couple."

"You really don't get why I want to have Roberta organise the wedding. Why I want you to forget about budgets and buy the dress that you want regardless of the price. I've said it before and I'll say it again. I want to show you off, Pam. I want everyone to know what a special woman I have in my life."

A play of emotions crossed Pam's face, surprise replaced anger. Confusion replaced surprise. But beneath all those looks was the thing that made his life worthwhile. Her love. He could see her love for him in those green depths and it completed him like nothing ever had. He hoped his words were finally making an impact on her.

"Why? Why is this so important to you, Nick? You know you don't have to prove anything to me. I know how much you love me because I love you the same way. We don't need all the bells and whistles. God, I'd be happy to just elope and then we wouldn't have to worry about all of this."

"No, we are not eloping, Pamela Bishop. I won't allow it. And that's why I wanted to employ Roberta. She can take away the worry of it all."

"Do you realise we are going in circles here? Saying the same things over and over. It's so frustrating. I know there's something you're not telling. Some reason why this is so important to you. Normally I can work out what you're trying to get at. But today, today I just can't. So tell me. Tell me in straight terms. No cajoling words or actions. Flat out like you would in a business negotiation."

He sat up straighter and reached out to take her hand, rubbing his thumb over her soft flesh. "You want to know why I want to show you off and make you the centre of attention?"

"Yes."

"You are my life, Pamela Bishop. Without you in it, my life is worthless. I need to let my friends know, with you by my side, I'm a better man. I'm the man I'm meant to be. I'm the man I never knew I could be and you made me that man, Pam. You and you alone."

He raised his the hand his was holding to his lips and placed a warm kiss on it. Her hand trembled beneath his lips. "That's why I want this big wedding now. You deserve to have everyone look at the woman who makes my life whole."

How could she argue with a man who laid himself bare in front of her in a cafe where anyone could hear what he was telling her? Was she being unreasonable? Would it hurt to let someone else plan the wedding? Shouldn't she embrace being a bride and all that comes with it?

She set her mind back to the only wedding she'd been personally involved in. That day she'd spent a lot of the time making sure everything went off without a hitch while Jasmine was able to enjoy the special moments with her husband, Luciano. Luciano made sure Jasmine shined. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Luciano worshipped the ground Jasmine walked on. He was extremely proud to have her as his wife and he was telling everyone present that Jasmine was an integral part of his soul and his life.

As Nick played with the beautiful ring he'd had specially made for her, understanding dawned on her, like the sun breaking through rain clouds. Just as Luciano had done for Jasmine on their wedding day, Nick wanted to do the same for her.

Of course it was for her. Nick didn't need the limelight for himself.

Pam couldn't deny him. How could she? Nick was the most amazing man and she was the luckiest girl in the world to have him love her.

Not caring that they were in the middle of a cafe, she got up and plopped herself on his lap. His arms instinctively closed around her and her body warmed from his touch.

"Oh Nick, you make my life so much better too."

Placing her hands on either side of his face, she melded her lips with his. His arms tightened around her and she gave herself up to the sensations Nick was able to bring to life within her. She opened her mouth further beneath his to allow him better access.

A shiver wracked her body when his hands slipped under her shirt, lightly feathering her back. Pam wanted more. She wanted his hands all over her body. Nick driving into her until she couldn't think.

"Hey!" Something sounded loud in her ears, like someone was knocking on a door.

Pam broke the kiss and became aware of the surroundings, sure that quite a few of the patrons in the cafe were probably staring at them. She looked up and saw Nix standing by their table.

"Look, I'm a romantic and don't mind the odd kiss or three myself, but," Nix waved her hand that had been tapping on the table. "I run a very respectable cafe, and the way you two were going at it I thought we were about to see an X-rated movie."

Mortification swept through Pam. How could she have got so caught up in the moment that they'd almost embarrassed themselves? It would've been a great for the gossip columnists and the last thing Nick would've wanted.

"Sorry," Pam said. "I'm not sure what happened."

Nix laughed. "I know exactly what was happening here, honey. And if it were me, I'd be doing the same thing with this fine specimen of a man. Yes I would."

Pam laughed as well. "It's true, one touch and I forget where I am. You're right, he is a fine specimen. "

"Ahh, this specimen is right here you know."

Pam got off his lap and patted his cheek. "Yes I know." She smiled at Nix. "I can promise you it won't happen again."

"Fine," she said on a laugh. "How about I get you some fresh coffees. Maybe it should be iced coffees."

She walked away chuckling at her own joke. Pam shook her head and sat in her chair again. The moment she sat down Nick reached across the table and took possession of her hands. As if he didn't want to lose the connection between them.

Pam took a deep breath. "Do you still have Roberta's number?"

"Yes."

"I think you should call her."

"Why?" Nick sent her an inquisitive gaze.

"So that we can discuss our wedding arrangements, of course."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Nick I am." Pam extracted hand from his hold and touched his cheek. "You're right. I do want to spend every moment of our wedding day with my thoughts totally on you, and not on catering woes. You say that you want to show me off; well, I want to do the same. I want the world to know that the man standing beside me is the most amazing man in the world and I'm proud to be your wife."

"We're going to have a magical life together, sweetheart. You know that, right?"

"Of course we are. And we're going to fight and disagree, because you know why?"

Nick threw his head back and laughed. "Why is that?"

Pam crooked her finger, beckoning him closer. When his head was near hers she leant forward and brushed her lips against his ears. "Because making up is so much fun."

From Nicole Flockton, author of Bound By His Desire

The last thing he wants is an emotional attachment to his new assistant, but it might be the only thing he truly needs.

Nick Rhodes has been burned before, so when he hires a new assistant, he has one rule: no emotional attachments. On either side. Pamela Bishop is everything he needs in a professional colleague, and comes with an ironclad guarantee—she absolutely will not fall in love with him.

Pamela Bishop has only one goal in her new job: getting on top of the mountain of debts incurred through her mother's medical expenses. Jeopardising this chance by falling in love with her arrogant, if handsome, employer is the last thing she would ever do.

But as the lure and romance of New York City surrounds them, and Pamela and Nick find themselves spending more and more time together, they can no longer ignore the attraction flaring between them. Nick has always lived by his own rules—can he learn to break them in time to grab this one chance at happiness?

### Deeper Diving

Cate Ellink

It's fifteen months since Samantha and Cooper left Lord Howe Island, are they still competing?

_Deeper Diving_ is an epilogue, featuring Sam and Cooper from Deep Diving, published in September 2014 by Escape Publishing.

###  7: Deeper Diving

I follow my giant human god into the cafe. He's solid, muscle-bound, and totally and completely mine. I would never have dreamt it possible. It seems dreams do come true.

Cooper holds Alice Josephine, while I push the baby paraphernalia-holding pram. Ali Jo is a tiny bundle of cloth safely balanced along his forearm and cradled against that solid expanse of chest. Delight spears through me and my lips curl to let some escape. I cannot contain it. When I glance up, his chocolate gaze snares mine. His tongue sneaks between his lips and slides from one side to the other. Pure lust stabs me right through and I have to consciously tighten my knees to remain standing. Lord alive that man does things to me. Still.

He winks before he leans close and catches my lips against his in a sweet kiss. Then sweet turns to need when his tongue darts into my mouth quickly before it's gone. I laugh because there's little else I can do in public. I'd like to hold that tongue for longer, partake in a tongue duel, kiss until we're lost in lustland...but it's not to be. Public place and newborn baby.

"Thank you," he whispers. I've no idea what he's thanking me for but it could be anything and everything.

I don't know how I've survived the last year without ending up a puddle on the floor. From the moment I saw him, he's messed up my mind, my libido, my sanity. The first dinner we shared, I worried I might orgasm watching him eat and fifteen months later, I'm no better. I cheekily wolf-whistled him because I thought his legs were hot, and his butt, and shoulders...and he only gets hotter. Every day I discover another tiny thrill—a muscle I had forgotten or never seen before, a touch that makes my temperature soar, a look that ignites the fire inside me, or lately, the intensely gentle relationship between him and his five-week-old daughter. Ali Jo brings out a side in him I had glimpsed when he was with other children, but I never imagined that I would react so much more strongly when it was Cooper holding our child.

Our friends, Cass, Peter and little Mia, are seated around a table close to the outdoor terrace. After glancing at them, I'm momentarily entranced by the view—of the harbour, not my husband this time. I've seen Sydney Harbour before but today it sparkles under the most brilliant sunshine. The intense blue of the sky creates an incredible backdrop for the dark, arched beauty of the bridge, the gleaming white scalloped sails of the Opera House and even the colours of the boats and ferries as they glide across the green-blue water. A big sigh escapes as I take in the magnificence.

Lips nuzzle beneath my earlobe. "Too much bliss?" Cooper asks.

"Always."

He laughs with such satisfaction, I'm glad I answered that way. I had trouble accepting this man's friendship, not to mention the trouble accepting my need for a relationship and family. I had trouble accepting so damn much but his love has been a continuous stream of gentle comfort I'm unable to resist. Despite this tenderness, he's as tough as they come, competitive, dedicated. Sometimes single-minded. I adore him.

After our brief moment to bask in the view and each other, we take our seats. Peter and Coop together so they can talk football. Cass and I next to each other with little Mia, pigtails bobbling as she chats with her doll, between her mum and dad.

While the guys talk teams, players and football, Cass leans across. "How're the new-baby-nerves doing?"

Cass is one of my closest confidants. A retired hockey player, married to a rugby league player, we met and our similarities were immediately obvious. She's been with Peter a couple of years, so she's been where I am now. Cass is the one person I can speak freely to, in a world where I have to be careful what I say.

I pull my chair closer so we're not overheard. "Much better than last week. Thank you for being so sane."

Cass chuckles. "That's easy, because kids get easier the longer you have them."

I can't disagree with the assessment. The longer Ali is here, the less stressed and frantic I feel. The first few weeks were horrific. I was terrified of everything—dropping her, drowning her, overfeeding, underfeeding, squashing her, giving her too much attention or not enough attention. I had no understanding of her. Cooper seemed comfortable but I was a wreck. Story of our relationship, really, but I stuck around this time.

"Is Ali sleeping okay, feeding well, doing all that stuff okay?"

I give Cass a quick sharp glance. "Sleeping is not her favourite pastime unless she's on her dad." I nod my head towards Cooper acting as the giant cradle. "Feeding is so much better now. Thanks for the tips. She's doing everything perfectly."

"And you think you're not?"

I shrug. "I'm worried about the season. How do I manage when he's not here? The last few weeks he's been incredible and I don't know if I can let him go." The pre-season games are only a couple of weeks away and I've become accustomed to Ali and I being the centre of Cooper's world. In such a short time, I think, she's overtaken his love of footy.

"You'll manage. I remember thinking the same but the balance comes. And if he tours at the end of the year, you'll need to be ready for that too."

Oh, hell. The tour. How can I not want him to make the Australian team? But the thought of him not being here for weeks at a time fills me with dread.

Cass must notice the panic in my eyes, even though I try to glance away before she'll notice. She clasps my hand and squeezes. "We're a family. Don't forget that. We're here to help each other. I won't let you down." Her intensity and generosity shock me anew. Triathlons were rather personal, so I'm not used to this team support that comes easily to Cass. I blink back a few prickles before my emotions get the better of me.

I've kept my fears from Cooper and I don't want him to guess. He has enough to do with season preparations. He needs his focus on football, not on me and my imaginary concerns. I'm worrying about things that haven't yet occurred, which is irrational. I know it and yet I can't halt it.

A lovely waitress arrives to take our orders and in no time drinks are served. The warm day, along with Cass's reassurance, allows me to relax and unwind. The discussion becomes more about the season ahead and general conversation. Meals arrive and the serious business of eating occurs. Cooper reluctantly places Ali in her pram so he can eat, but his gaze is torn between the food, the lively chatterbox, Mia, and Ali. Although I think Ali is winning. I should add myself to that list, as Cooper still gazes at me with such love.

When the meal is over and coffee is ordered, Cooper stretches back and aims his gaze at Peter. "Got any tips for balancing my girls and my game?"

Cass gives me a quick dig in the ribs, which I try to ignore. His question is gorgeous though. It's the perfect, indirect way to confront my fears without making me run, although I do try not to run so fast or far these days.

Peter laughs. "I knew this lunch wasn't just about food."

"Or the view," Cass adds.

Cooper's intense gaze makes Peter sit up and shuffle on his chair. "It's not easy, mate. Not easy at all. You have to do what works for you guys."

"It's a bit trial and error," Cass adds. She and Peter exchange a long glance. "We did a lot of that."

"What did you try? What were the problems?" Cooper's always direct. His focus is entirely on Peter. I slip my hand onto his thigh, giving a squeeze to his tightly packed muscles. He needs to know how much I appreciate this.

"Routine and kids are the problem," Peter replies.

"Kids like routine. We thought football was routine but it's not." Cass's explanation is a lot clearer than Peter's succinct answer. "You play on different days and times, in different places. So adults might see routine, but kids see different places, different times, different crowds."

Cooper and I nod. His hand gently rests over mine, on his thigh. We'd worked this much out. It's what to do about it that we keep stalling on.

"We took Mia with us. Cass stayed behind with her. Nothing seemed to be right," Peter says.

Cooper's shoulders sag. He's looking for an answer and we haven't got one. I keep hoping we'll magically find the answer. It wasn't difficult last year...when we were kid free.

"Now we play it by ear." Cass takes up the explanation. "If she's having a good week and is happy, we go along. If things are chaos and she's sick or tired or not right, we stay at home. Anything in between, we discuss and decide."

"Doesn't that mess with your head?" Cooper asks Peter.

"Less than it messes with hers." Peter places a kiss to the top of Mia's head and lightly tugs a pigtail. Mia grins at her dad, ice-cream across her lips, tugs him to her and smacks a gooey ice-cream kiss to his cheek. Peter looks like he could melt on the spot.

Cass chuckles. "You're the one who's going to have to sort your head out, Coop." He nods.

"And me?"

"You, Sam, have to talk...a lot." I roll my eyes as Cass says this. She keeps telling me this same message over and over. I'm trying. Obviously not hard enough for her liking. "You need to talk to the travel organiser. Talk to the club, other wives, keep Cooper updated. You're Ali Jo's voice."

Peter adds, "Compartmentalise where you can, Coop, but somewhere along the line you'll have to decide between them. And that sucks, big time. That's when it gets tough, real tough."

Cooper's hand squeezes around mine. His expression is one of complete puzzlement, as if he has no idea what Peter's saying. Frown lines mar his forehead and spray from the corners of his eyes. He shifts in the chair. Looks out across the harbour. Looks at me, then Ali, then back to Peter. "How the hell do you do that?"

Peter and Cass exchange a look of intense...understanding I think it is. There's a ferocity and determination, not quite passion, but also a kind gentleness.

"That's where you have to talk, a lot." Cass's words are quietly spoken.

"And decisions that were easy before become so much more difficult. Your head's not always there. Professionalism gets torn." Peter's tone has a gruffness to it I haven't heard before.

Cooper curses under his breath and glances at me.

Ali wakes and grizzles. Cooper's hand moves to rock the stroller but his look doesn't wander from me. Without words he's apologising for whatever decisions are to come. He's asking for my understanding and my acceptance. He's promising to give me everything he can. I can't ask for anything else. I hope I'm giving him, without words, my acceptance, patience and promise of support.

"Is it easier knowing the sport psychology?" I ask Cass. With her hockey background and my triathlons, I'm hoping we understand the competitive side of our husbands, which might make the decision-making easier.

"It gives you understanding in some way...but you're still a woman being put aside for football."

I nod. I went through those emotions a bit last year but I worked through them. I had my career, it's Cooper's turn now. No matter what job he had, there would be job-family conflict somewhere along the line if he took his job seriously.

"And you're a mother defending her cub," Peter adds. "If your cub is getting a rough deal, then you growl and fight for them."

My eyes open wide. Right. Much more at stake.

When I first met Cooper I contemplated having a child without his support. I soon decided I couldn't be without him. He understands competitiveness, vulnerability, fear. He understands me. Whenever I'm overwhelmed with fear of failure, he quietly talks to me until my self-belief kicks back in. He believes in me so much. I chose to marry him as a sign of my belief in him. In us.

My love and belief now extend to Ali. We need to protect her yet allow her to grow.

"So I have to be ready for Mama Lion." Cooper grins, as if it's something he might relish. As we grin at each other, Ali lets out an almighty squeal and Daddy Lion rescues his cub from the confines of the pram. Cass and I can't help but chuckle.

Cass looks at me closely. "And you have to let Daddy go out to hunt, then return with the kill." I give a look of mock-outrage. Then waggle my head at her.

She and Peter have such a good handle on us, sometimes it scares me. We're friends because of our similarities, so I should expect them to understand. Every tip we can get from them is gold.

After feeding Ali and settling her down again, the pram is taken from my hands. Cass, looking most determined, has commandeered the stroller.

"You, my friend, are off duty for the next two hours."

"Off duty?" I know there's a rising of pitch but my hysteria can't be helped. I'm a Mama Lion and my cub is being taken, even if it's by my best friend.

"You and Coop spend some time together. Go for a walk, or something." Cass waggles her eyebrows. "We'll pretend we have a baby and a toddler."

"Good practice," Peter says with a huge grin.

When I hesitate again, Cass pushes me. "I have your mobile. I'll ring if I need you. I know you won't be far away."

There's nothing attractive about gaping but it's all I can manage. Last week I mentioned how much I missed just being with Cooper and today, she's organised it for me. I should thank her profusely but I'm torn at leaving Ali behind.

"Sam, you looked after Mia for us, and I loved you for that. Let us do the same for you."

Cass trusted me with her child when I knew nothing. I have to return that trust. I swallow. "Thank you, Cass."

Cooper extends his hand and I slip mine into it. When his smile lights his eyes and they sparkle more than the harbour, I know I can relax and just be with him. I want my man. I can leave Ali.

I wrap Cass in my free arm and kiss her cheek. "Thank you for this," I whisper before I pull away. We share a look, a glance that tells me she understands the turmoil.

Peter swings Mia onto his shoulder and Cass pushes the pram ahead of them. Coop squeezes my hand and I lean into him. I have two hours of having him all to myself. I'm not on duty. I'm not listening out for a cry. I'm not trying to clean up after lunch. I just have Cooper. Sinfully delicious Cooper. All to myself.

But first, I need to face my fear.

I slip my hand inside Cooper's and we sit, side by side, facing each other and not the table. I lean towards him and I have his undivided attention. I take a deep, slow breath until my lungs expand fully. Then I let it out slowly. He waits. Chocolate brown stare intent on me, lips soft but not really smiling, and his thumb brushing gently across the back of my hand.

"I love you, Cooper. Everything about you." When he goes to speak, I squeeze his hand and he refrains. I need to say this now, without interruption. "You're so good with me, so good with Ali. I'm scared of being without you when the season starts." I hesitate, squeezing his hand again so he won't say anything yet.

Another swallow, and a quick glance away from the intensity of his gaze, gives me the courage to go on. "But football's your passion, our livelihood, and I promise I'll do everything I can to support you."

"I know that, Sam."

I lift our joined hands and kiss his knuckles. "When you have those tough decisions to make, we'll get through it. Don't ever let my panic stop you. I knew your commitments when I took this on, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

Cooper smiles, not just one of those knee-wobbling smiles but one that bursts my heart, makes my knees wobble, and floods me with happiness. He leans close and presses a butterfly soft kiss to my lips.

"Thanks, Sammi. You're one hell of a gutsy lady." I'm not but it does my soul good to hear him say that.

Tension I wasn't aware of leaves my neck and shoulders. I rock my head from side to side before moving close to whisper in his ear. "Do you know what I'd like to do?"

Cooper's eyes widen because I've used a rather sexy voice to deliver this question, and punctuated it with the brush of my tongue along the edge of his ear.

I don't wait for his answer. I know he'll never refuse. "I'd like to order fruit salad." When I deliberately hesitate, he catches his lower lip in his teeth and quickly glances at the harbour, trying to mask his disappointment.

I put him out of his misery. "Takeaway. Just in case I'm hungry after I make slow, sweet love to you."

He barks a laugh. "There'll be nothing slow about it, Sam Sterling."

About Deep Diving

From Cate Ellink comes a sun-soaked, sandy, seaside erotic novel about a tropical paradise, two athletes used to getting physical, and a sex-filled, no-strings holiday fling.

Samantha is celebrating her newly retired status from competitive triathlons with a diving holiday in her favourite place in the world: Australia's Lord Howe Island. But all divers need a buddy, and Sam can't dive solo. A chance meeting with rugby league superstar Cooper Sterling in the dive shop seems serendipitous. Sam can't wait to have a partner who might be able to keep up with her.

It soon becomes evident that Cooper and Sam are compatible both in and out of the water, and things get seriously sexy. But Sam is disinclined to be another football groupie, and Cooper has been burnt before. So the rules are clear: a holiday fling, no strings attached, and they part as friends at the end.

But as the final days of their time together come to a close and a life apart becomes a reality, Sam and Cooper start to question their decision. Is this holiday fling really the finish line, or can Sam and Cooper turn their friendly competition into more than sizzling sex?

### Stand and Deliver

Ros Baxter

A story about lasagne, handcuffs and compression knickers.

Stand and deliver is a "what happened next" story that shows us things don't get any less complicated for Lola and Wayne from Lingerie for Felons once step-kids and new babies enter the fray.

###  8: Stand and Deliver

"You aren't fat," Wayne insisted, swallowing hard on an enormous mouthful of lasagne, his huge craggy face crinkling up the corners the way it always did when he thought something I said was confusing but amusing. "You're pregnant."

"Shhh," I hissed at him, as Eve came walking back towards us. "You know I don't want her to catch any of my body crap."

"It's not contagious," Wayne laughed, leaning forward to kiss my enormous belly. "Just irrational. You should know that, being a mathematician and all."

Wayne looked up at the thirteen year old coming towards us, delicately balancing a hot chocolate fudge sundae and a plate of beer-battered fries. "I think we're safe, Rocket," he laughed, standing up to pull out the chair for his stepdaughter. "Not hungry today, darlin'?' he asked her, giving her the Big Smile that still made me catch my breath. Even when I wanted to rip his heart out and stomp on his body. Like I did most of the time right now. Not because he'd done anything wrong. Just because he could go through life happy, relaxed and not vomiting in public places.

"Not really," Eve grinned back. "That poor waitress is run off her feet, it's fun to help." She examined the fries and sundae critically. "It's so hard to decide."

"I know, right?" Wayne nodded enthusiastically, squeezing my hand under the table. "You eat the sundae first, fries go cold. You eat the fries first, sundae melts." He sighed dramatically, and he could have been teasing except I knew he took his food as seriously as my daughter did. "You shoulda staged, love. I've told you before. There's no shame in ordering two or three times to get the scheduling right."

I wanted to kick them both. I love food too. Usually. Just not right now.

Or for the last nine months, actually.

The thought of food made me want to cry, puke and (sometimes) sneeze. I was through the worst of the vomiting, but the low-level nausea that persisted ate away at my joy of life in ways I imagined was even less sexy than the way my body had been taken over by a baby elephant. I eyed Wayne off the way I'd been doing quite a bit lately, taking in the sheer proportion of him. Birthing Eve had been the hardest, scariest, most painful thing I'd ever done. Birthing this man's progeny was going to make that look like a day trip to the Met.

He should live at the top of a beanstalk.

I loved him, but now that I was days away from going Round Two with the labour suite, I was thinking I should have picked someone smaller, slighter, to fall madly in love with, marry and play happy families. I was definitely going to advise Eve to consider head size, for example, when selecting a potential life partner. One look at Wayne's huge, handsome head made my knees turn to water. I closed my eyes as I remembered the shocked "O" the radiographer's mouth had formed as she had studied my last ultrasound and started talking up the benefits of caesarean section.

Fuck, I was toast.

I opened my eyes and tried to smile at the two of them as I recited my inner mantra.

You are in Sydney. The sun is shining. You wanted your baby to be born here.

Smile, you ungrateful bitch.

I looked around the cute little harbourside cafe. The woman behind the counter gave me an encouraging smile. I'd seen Wayne chatting to her earlier, as he tried to select something that might tempt me to dine, so I had no doubt she was in on the "Make Lola Eat" plan. Wayne had a way of collecting fans and co-conspirators wherever he went. Something about his cheery handsomeness and super-hero proportions. I had to admit, between them, they'd done quite well. The fish and chips looked crispy and golden, the salad green and crunchy, the artful little wedge of lemon fresh and tangy.

"It looks good," I offered, both by way of recognition of his efforts and to delay the moment where I would have to put something in my mouth and chew it.

"The food is ah-mazing," Eve encouraged, clearly having decided to alternate between the sundae and the chips, occasionally dipping one of the fat potato fingers into the ice-cream in a way that made my stomach roll precariously.

I wanted to yell at her, at both of them, but it was so damn hard when I adored them so much. It was hard to believe Eve was only thirteen, as she sat there looking so grown-up in her Meat is Murder t-shirt and skinny black jeans. She was tall and busty and smiley and beautiful and I wanted to wrap her in my arms and not let her grow up anymore.

"And all certified organic and animal-cruelty free," she added approvingly.

"Yay," I tried to enthuse.

Suddenly, Wayne stiffened, lasagne halfway to his mouth and I followed the direction of his eyes. Two teenage boys—maybe eighteen or nineteen—had clocked Eve and were whispering ineptly and staring at her.

Uh-oh.

Wayne's protectiveness was like a barely leashed monster. My sweet, affable man was finding Eve's transition to adulthood—and the accompanying stares and leers of teenage boys and men everywhere—disturbing and terrifying. Wayne, who loved life and attracted an adoring entourage wherever he went, had taken to growling openly at men on the street. For her part, Eve was oblivious, both to the stares and to Wayne's outrage. She kept on at life in the same full-tilt, take-no-prisoners style she'd approached it with since the day she came hurtling into the world. Boys were far less interesting to her than her work at Heidi's animal shelter and her maddening passion for her drum kit.

I squeezed Wayne's hand under the table as Eve got up to fetch more ketchup and the two teenagers almost fell off their chairs.

"It's disgusting," he objected. "She's just a little girl."

"And they're just boys," I reminded him. "Like you were once."

Wayne looked like he was about to pass out. "Oh great, Rocket, thanks for that," he groaned, covering his eyes with his hands. "Now I know exactly what they're thinking."

I grinned at him. It was impossible not to—the sight of his big, open face, with those beautiful dark eyes wracked with fear and worry, touched the tenderest parts of me, the way they always did. This man was the other half of me, and I loved him like I loved breathing; sweet and essential to life. "Don't worry so much," I said, squeezing his hand again. "You were always kinda respectful with me."

His eyes widened and he leaned close to me, whispering in my ear. "Yeah, darl'n. But I knew exactly what I wanted to do to you." His scratchy stubble teased the delicate skin of my earlobe and neck and danced shivers through me, tightening my nipples and pulling at my tummy. "I was just playing the long game." He moved away and eyed off the offending boys again. They caught him watching them and he bared his teeth. They startled and looked away as Eve sauntered back to the table.

"That Nix woman is so nice," she said, smiling like she was four years old again as she held up a slice of New York baked cheesecake. "'On the house'," she mimicked, doing a great Australian accent. "Because we're from New York." She said the last like "nee-yoo yawwwwwk" and Wayne pushed back his scraped-clean lasagne plate, leaned back in his chair and laughed his great big belly laugh. Patrons all around stopped to stare at him and Eve grinned. "People are staring," she giggled.

"They always do at the beautiful people," Wayne winked at her, wriggling his chair closer to me and wrapping a heavy arm around my shoulders. "You girls are going to get that a lot out here."

'Women," Eve and I both snapped at him in unison.

He laughed again and shook his head. "Have I ever told you two how much I love you?"

"Oh God, only like every day," Eve groaned, suddenly impatiently teenage again. "And I don't think I need to remind you both how often I've told you it's not really appropriate for people of your age to paw each other quite so much in public."

"I can't help it," Wayne smiled, his eyes darkening as he looked hard at me. "Even sick and cranky and smelling of vomit, she's still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

I wriggled in my chair and thought about what a near miss we'd had. Fifteen years it had taken us—a series of misunderstandings, three arrests and a whole mother lode of crap to wade through—but in the end we were where we were supposed to be. Together.

And I was determined to keep my nose clean and my act together so we could stay that way. In a few days there would be four of us, and I wasn't doing any crazy shit to get in the way of our quadruple Happily Ever After.

"Cops," Eve grunted as she sucked hard on the milkshake that had arrived with the cheesecake.

Wayne and I both looked at the door. Two young men in blue uniforms were scanning the restaurant. I couldn't help it—old habits died hard—my tummy clenched and I ran a mental underwear inventory.

Jeepers.

Of all the indignities—I was wearing suspension knickers. The kind that help your back when it feels like it's going to break from the assault of the baby giant trampolining on your cervix, and help your legs stay connected to your hips when the relaxin comes down and they start to want to go their own way.

If I got strip-searched today, things were gonna get complicated. I couldn't even get these suckers off without extra help.

I shook the thought away. I was clean. This was a family holiday. No protests, no causes. We'd only been here a few weeks; not long enough to get in any trouble.

But Wayne, also, couldn't keep his eyes off the policemen as they chatted to Nix and then started to make their way through the late-lunch diners towards our table.

"Anything I need to know, babe?" he murmured at me as they came closer.

I wracked my brain. "Nope," I said with relief.

I flicked a quick glance at Eve. Her face was murderous. I hated that my experiences had made her feel that way about police. I reached across the table and linked hands with her. "It's cool, baby," I reassured her. But her face went white.

Suddenly, Nix and the police were standing at our table, and Wayne was pushing his chair out, standing up to his full giantness, shaking hands and asking them what the problem was.

Their young faces were a parody of seriousness as they gestured towards me. "Lola Murphy?"

"Yep," I said, struggling out of my chair and standing also. "How can I help?" I pushed a friendly smile onto my face, like cops didn't worry me at all, like I hadn't had so many near misses the sound of a siren could turn my knees to water.

"Jesus," one of the policeman, the younger one, breathed as he took in the huge girth of my stomach. "We didn't know you were—" He blinked in shock as he struggled to find the right word to convey the dimensions of my pregnancy.

The (slightly) older of the two fresh-faced babies held up an iPad, and touched it gently. An image materialised on screen; a huge billboard for electronics. The implications of it took a while to sink and arrange themselves in my brain. I recognised the name—it was a well-known Japanese company, an outspoken advocate of the whale hunt. We featured them in our boycott newsletter. The billboard advertised various desirable electronic bling, but scrawled across it, in huge, blood-red letters, were five damning words:

Save a whale, harpoon Marioto.

Fuck. Marioto was the Japanese Minister who had led the latest round of talks in the UN to ensure the hunt would go on. He was universally hated by the movement and frequently featured in our newsletter.

"Nice work," I forced myself to say, my mouth dry. "Who did it?"

"We were hoping you could tell us," the older one said, his mouth a wry line.

"Well," Wayne said, stepping forward and taking the iPad from the cop. "Looks to be about ten feet off the ground at its lowest point." He screwed his face up as he examined the picture. "So unless you're suggesting my very pregnant wife got herself up a ladder on the roadside to do this—" He glanced meaningfully at my cartoon-huge belly. "I suggest you boys be on your way." Wayne's voice carried a tone of such casual menace that the two cops were momentarily blindsided.

They blinked, fixated on my tummy as we all stood frozen in a pantomime standoff.

Then, suddenly, everything changed. A twang reverberated through my body and I felt a gush of something warm and sticky down my legs. "Shit," I wailed, reaching for Wayne. "I think it's happening."

The younger cop turned green as Eve, somewhat unfairly, hissed at them: "Look what you've done now." Her face was dark with rage and her beautiful mouth was twisted in a furious line.

They stood uncertainly, iPad forgotten on the table in front of them, as a second pang ripped through me, stronger than the first.

"Time to go, boys," Wayne smiled, wrapping an arm around me and making to leave. "Come see us in maternity." He eyeballed them hard. "If you've got a warrant."

In moments, Wayne had me outside and in the car. We had rehearsed this, we knew where we were going and how to get there. My relaxed, easy-going husband had turned into Mr Anal as he had made us practise several dry runs of the route to the hospital, timing and re-routing and working out the best way to get there.

I sat in the back with Eve as more pains blossomed in my body and Wayne attacked the streets like a getaway driver. I leaned on Eve and she patted my hair softly.

"Mom," she whispered in my ear. "I'm so sorry."

I was too focussed on the pain and the terror of what was to come that I didn't follow. "It's not your fault, honey," I assured her, breathing hard and focussing on the back of Wayne's neck, imagining bayoneting him for his part in this and what was to come. "You didn't impregnate me."

"No," she sniffed into my neck. "Not that, I mean the—"

Pieces of memory slipped into place. Eve's distraction since we'd been in Sydney. Her early morning walk.

"The billboard?" I wanted her to say no. No no no, not that, of course not that, Mum, I'm only thirteen.

But she just swallowed hard and looked scared.

A vast well of fear and fury rose up in me. Oh no. I did this, I infected her with this. There I was, worried about passing on body image crap, and really, all the while, I was passing on something far more dangerous.

How could she not catch this from me—Eve, with her big heart and her clever brain?

She should be doodling hearts and wanting a pony, not scaling billboards.

I wanted to scream at her, remind that I didn't do that stuff anymore, that after the last time, I was clean. We organised, we protested. We didn't do direct activism.

But she was thirteen, and she was scared, and she was my most beautiful, perfect Eve.

I thought about how Wayne had never once told me I shouldn't, through all that my activism had done to us. He had never said don't, and he had never said I told you so when the whole shitpile came crashing down on me.

What exactly had he said?

It came to me, as I hugged her hard. "I'm proud of you, baby," I whispered against her still-baby-smooth cheek. "For all you are. You shouldn't have done that, but it's okay, we'll work it out."

The relief on her face was immediate.

"Right now we gotta focus on having this one," I said, gesturing to my stomach.

"I love you Mom," Eve said, pressing her face to mine and wrapping her arms around me.

"Me too," I agreed. "Now for Crissakes Wayne, step on the gas."

Lola and Wayne are from Lingerie for Felons, a story from Ros Baxter about doing what's right, finding your soul mate and always thinking through your underwear choices.

If there's one universal truth, it's this: you're always wearing your worst underwear when you land in trouble.

Lola's parents told her that everyone can make a difference. And she believed them. She's been fighting the good fights since she was eleven years old. But at twenty-three, Lola falls hard for an Australian stockbroker who thinks Doctors Without Borders is a porno and Joni Mitchell sounds like a harp seal being battered to death. She cuts him loose, but over the next fifteen years, through protests, misunderstandings, humiliating predicaments, and a number of poor underwear choices, their lives and paths continue to converge.

Along the way, Lola learns a few important life lessons: never wear a red lace thong to a strip search. Make sure you take motion sickness pills if you're going to the Southern Ocean to save the whales. And sometimes, Mr Right can be all wrong, and Mr Wrong just needs time to marinate.

###  9: Lunch Rush

Nix blinked and breakfast was over. She snuck a five minute toilet break and the cafe was full of people ordering lunch, and how many times had she asked one of the waiters to toss those trashy gossip mags someone left behind? They kept reappearing. She scooped them up and binned them herself.

Her ears were still ringing from the squealing at table ten, talk about scare away the seagulls. They didn't scare away Maria's horrible fiancé, more's the pity, though Maria seemed to find her feet anyway. She left the restaurant in better shape than the very, very sunburnt American who'd come in. Lobster had nothing on him. You could almost feel the heat radiating out of his skin, you could certainly hear the amused lilting Southern accent of his companion.

And then there was the woman who got sick, and the adventure bloke from that TV show, and the couple planning their wedding who'd forgotten where they were and canoodled—a tad passionately for midmorning in a crowded public place. They were obviously very much in love, and weddings were stressful, but making out in a cafe was stress of another kind, a floor show for the other patrons. She'd had to pour virtual cold water on them.

It made Nix think of Linc again. There was no talking herself around the fact she loved him. From the bottom of his big bony feet to the top of his never tidy hair. And she missed him and blamed him and was angry with him and oh God, she loved him. He rocked her boat and he'd done that since the day she'd presented him with a stray cat she'd been feeding and didn't think she should keep.

He'd smiled at her in his lopsided way with his washed out blue eyes and the cat had purred in his hands and really it was game over from that moment. The cat turned out to be a beloved gone missing and Linc turned out to be the beloved Nix had never expected to find. And now she'd lost him, but not because he'd wandered away like a fickle feline, because she had.

She'd known he was committed to his practice, indebted to his eyeballs having newly bought and modernised it, and if that wasn't enough, he was close to his family and they were all Melbourne born and rusted on.

At first it'd never occurred to either of them they had a problem. It was a Sutherland emergency and Nix had no choice but to move back to Sydney. Linc couldn't have been more supportive, and she'd fully expected to be back in their shared terrace home in Carlton.

But when it became clear Dad would get sicker before he got better, if he got better at all, decisions had to be made. She'd talked about selling and they'd moved forward as if being separated during the week, with Linc flying to Sydney almost every weekend, was an acceptable way to live.

It wasn't, and his practice suffered and then the arguments started. Not that it was Linc doing the arguing. He treated her like he might a nervous puppy, with a soft voice and gentle coaxing.

He'd been so patient and she'd been so difficult, but last night on the phone, he'd shown his impatience and she'd let him push her into a corner. She'd come out swinging and he'd stood his ground and there'd been tense silences, strained anger and lies, lies, lies. She wasn't selling the cafe. She loved it. She'd always loved it, but she'd needed to leave it and learn how to live a different life to appreciate that.

She'd been lying to Linc for months. And he knew it. And he deserved so much more from her. She blinked and her eyes were wet. She wanted her father well again, she wanted to keep the cafe and she wanted Linc. But you didn't get everything you wanted in life. She only had to remember Henry Jesus and study the patrons of the cafe to know that.

Wayan, one of the kitchen hands, tapped her on the shoulder. "Alvaro says lunch pronto." He didn't scurry away and when she didn't move he said, "He told me to annoy you till you came."

She smiled at Wayan, he was rostered for a double shift too. "Have you eaten?"

The Balinese born man nodded. "You're not yourself today, Nix, maybe food will make you feel better."

It certainly would keep her on her feet. She followed Wayan into the kitchen where a staff table was set. Tamsin was already there, tucking into a warm chicken salad. It was a new addition to the menu they were testing.

"This is amazingly good, but don't tell Alvaro," she said loudly enough for Alvaro to hear.

"Molesto mujer," said Alvaro.

Tamsin waved a fork at him. "Back at you."

Ramon leaned over the hatch laughing. "He just called you an annoying woman." He looked at Nix. "Rohan called. His kid's sick, he can't come in. But it's your lucky day, I'll work his shift."

That made too many of them working a double, which meant they'd all be tired tomorrow. It was time to stop pretending she was going back to Melbourne and to Linc. It was time to acknowledge that what really happened on the phone last night was the break-up they'd been working towards for months. Some people got their happy ever after and some people didn't.

"You okay?"

She looked up from the salad Wayan had placed in front of her. Tamsin was frowning at her. "I'm fine."

"You're so not, and I'd know."

Tam would, they shared the whole moving from Sydney to Melbourne thing and the pretty blonde probably knew enough about heartbreak to be a good sounding board. But Nix wasn't going to dish the dirt on her love-life in front of the kitchen staff and Ramon had bigger ears than an elephant.

"I'm fine. Too many doubles, that's all. And I'm worried about Dad." That brought eyes and ears. Everyone loved Steven, no one was under any illusion he'd be back in the hot seat, but they all hoped to see him again and hear his famous dinner shift specials briefing told in poem form, sometimes appalling bad, but mostly a good giggle.

Every time Nix gave the specials briefing she felt her father at her side. She was never going to be a match for his humour, but she'd found her own way, and had earned the respect of the staff. Now it was time to get her self-respect back.

She needed to call Linc and apologise for being so awful to him on the phone, for not being straight with him about her feelings. She needed to have a calm and rational conversation with him about what she wanted, about breaking up. If at all possible, without crying at him and then hanging up in his ear. They didn't need to be enemies. It was timing, circumstance. She'd always love him. She put her hand over her mouth to hold a sob back.

"What's wrong with my salad?"

Alvaro stood in front of her. Tam had slipped away. "Nothing."

"You don' eat it."

She'd moved it around on the plate, but none of it had made it as far as her tastebuds. "I'm not hungry."

"It's no good."

"Tam said it was very good."

"I don' work for her. I work for you." He went to lift her plate away.

She stopped him with a wave of her hand. "I'll eat." She thought he'd go back to his station. He stood and glowered at her. So she ate. And Tamsin was right. It was very good.

She made a mental note to add it to the specials menu for next week and if it took off, to the main menu by the end of the month.

Back out in the restaurant, lunch orders were tailing off as afternoon tea orders increased. There was a famous footballer, huge guy, muscles on his muscles, and his very new baby. The sight of them made Nix's throat constrict. Without Linc there was no cute baby in her future. There were no more adoring looks or crazy good kisses or wicked laughter, or warm hugs.

Inside, out of the heat, there was a very pregnant woman and her husband and daughter, another reminder of what she'd lost. She let the bored daughter help deliver the family's meal to the table. That might've been a disaster, but nothing got dropped, then she sent them cheesecake on the house and just when she was about to go upstairs to her office and phone Linc, two cops arrived.

That was never a good look. She was grateful the cops on the law firm dinner tonight were plain-clothed. They could hang out without scaring other customers. These two in their uniforms and all that gear strapped to their hips had attracted more attention than Nix was comfortable with. Turns out she might've spent her cheesecake on a law-breaker. Turns out the suspected law-breaker almost had her baby in the cafe. Things got spilled after all.

By the time she made it to her office, her headache was back. She popped two pills and stared at the phone for a few minutes. It was blissfully quiet here. What was she supposed to say to Linc? I love you but I love my work more. That was fair, wasn't it? That's what he was saying to her. But did he really love looking after other people's pets more than he loved her? Did she love the cafe more than the man? Was that the truth? And if it was, what did that say about her?

She put her head on the desk and closed her eyes. There was no easy way, but torturing each other was worse than making a precise cut. She sat upright again, picked up the phone and dialled the practice, only to be told Linc was out on a call and they weren't sure when he'd be back. And that he wasn't expected in for the next few days. That was unlike him. She dialled his mobile before she lost her nerve.

"Hello, this is Dr Lincoln Patterson's phone. Who's this?"

"Who am I?" Who was this woman, young and annoyingly perky, answering Linc's phone? "Could I speak to Linc, please?"

"Dr Handsome is not available right now."

There was hearty male laughter in the background. Linc's? She couldn't tell.

"Look I don't know who you are, please put Linc on."

"I don't know who you are and I told you he's not available and what kind of name is Nix anyway?" Miss Perky had looked at the caller ID. "Anyway whatever, Nix, he's not going to fix your sick pussy anymore, okay."

"What?" Nix felt her face colouring. "Who is this?"

"Get over him, move on. He's fixing my sick pussy exclusively now. Don't call this number again."

The call cut off.

Nix took a breath and held it. Let it go and took another. Here she was worried sick about how she'd treated Linc. And Linc was already off tasting other things on the menu.

Well, at least that was one thing she no longer had to worry about.

### Kissing Time

Jenny Schwartz

Tamsin knew she was no good for Luke, so she ran. But now he's found her.

Luke features in Hero Duty, available from Escape Publishing on 1 June 2014.

###  10: Kissing Time

"I can work Valentine's Day," Tamsin Serle volunteered as her friend and boss Nix bent over the next fortnight's roster, trying to work out coverage for one of the busiest nights of the year. Busy, that is, for everyone except Tamsin, who'd be home alone if she wasn't working. She sighed.

Nix glanced up. "You're not still missing Craig?"

"No." Tamsin glanced over the cafe, but the midafternoon lull still held. Beyond the cheerful but quiet restaurant, Sydney Harbour sparkled in the summer sunshine. "Do you know, he asked me to take him back?"

"No!" Nix spun her chair away from the counter.

"He said he was sorry. Said he'd been seduced by Lea." Tamsin rolled her eyes.

Nix snorted. "Loser. But it's been a year, Tamsin. Should I set you up with someone?"

"Don't you dare."

"You could have a rebound romance. For you, we'll break the no-fraternisation rule. Take your pick." The invitation wasn't as silly as it sounded. Cafe Nix was a favourite hangout for Sydney celebrities. The mix of glamour, friendliness and, of course, the location on the famous harbour created magic.

"As if. They'd never look at me."

"Taaam-ssssin." A long, drawn out wail of protest. "They all look at you—and the models could scratch your eyes out. You don't flaunt it. You just have it. You're beautiful."

"Huh."

Nix shook her head, affectionately despairing. "You should value yourself more."

But Tamsin knew her limitations. She was shy—although waitressing had helped with that. She liked nights at home, could lose herself for hours in designing fabrics and had a completely useless teaching degree because she'd found teaching art to teenagers terrifying. She'd only be a drag on a guy who was going places.

A guy like Luke.

Her body jolted, as it did, even five months later, when she thought of him. And she did think of him.

Luke Mitchell was a force of nature, a powerhouse. Only average height, a fraction taller than her, but leanly muscled with reflexes honed by years of martial arts. He was a fighter; something he hid behind a pose of languid disinterest.

She'd called him a Regency dandy once, with his peacock clothing and his "darling" people hiding his toughness. Despite the role he played, he was straight. Something any number of men in the fashion industry deplored. Ambition and talent blazed in him, attracting people: attracting investors to his fledgling clothing label.

She'd met him in St Kilda when she'd fled Sydney and Craig for a new start in Melbourne. And then she'd fled back to Sydney when she realised how dangerous Luke was to her heart. Back and forth like a wretched ping pong ball.

But damn him—they hadn't even kissed—and she couldn't forget him.

A trio of silver-haired women stumbled through the cafe door and exclaimed loudly at the bliss of air conditioning. Tamsin grabbed a complimentary bottle of cold water and started towards them as they settled at a window table, scattering shopping bags around their chairs.

Within minutes, she brought their order of iced coffees and cupcakes, which was received rapturously.

They were excited and happy, and from their conversation, she realised they'd dropped into Cafe Nix hoping to round off their shopping trip with a little celebrity spotting. She lowered her voice and pointed out the minor soapie star drinking a green smoothie at a table for one.

"Ooh," two of them chorused.

But the third was watching the doorway. "Who is he?"

Her heart stopped. The edge of the tray cut into her hands as they tightened. "Luke."

He couldn't possibly have heard her, but eyes covered by sunglasses turned in her direction as he barely paused inside the door. A shirt—silk by the way it clung to his torso—reflected and deepened the dark blond of his hair. The shade of polished bronze was outrageous in daylight and he'd combined it with cream trousers that hugged the muscles of his thighs. Those muscles rippled as he strode forward.

The sunglasses came off revealing deep blue eyes.

The trio of ladies sighed.

Thinking of him had summoned her own particular devil—and the butterflies in her tummy rejoiced, flipping and flapping madly.

"Tamsin." His left hand encircled her right wrist. "Excuse us, my darlings."

"Don't mind us."

"Of course."

"Oh my!"

Luke towed her towards the back of the cafe.

Nix stood by the counter. She grinned and lifted the board that separated staff from customers, granting them entry.

"Traitor."

"No wonder you weren't missing Craig."

"She better have been missing me." Luke pushed open the kitchen door and strode through, straight for the exit.

The kitchen staff looked around, blinked and smiled. A chorus of approval, amusement and encouragement resounded. "Go, man! Woohoo, Tamsin!"

No one considered that this was a kidnapping, of a kind.

Maybe she should struggle? Except the feel of Luke's hand, knowing he was here, hoping against all rationality...she didn't want to fight him or herself.

The door shut behind them. The heat and quiet of the small private courtyard closed around them. The scent of the frangipani tree in the corner hung heavy on the air.

Now they would talk.

Luke backed her up against a brick wall and kept coming. His mouth covered hers aggressively, taking and demanding, while he leant into her. All that hard muscle kept her in place; excited her with the dominance of it because underneath was a thread of concern, of caring. His hand cupped the back of her head, protecting her from the rough brick as his tongue invaded her mouth.

She pushed back, hips tilting, breasts pressing into his chest, her mouth open, craving his invasion. She sucked his tongue, watching the pupils of his eyes widen with arousal.

He tried to thrust a thigh between her legs, but the tight black fabric of her pencil skirt defeated him. He bent at the knees, body dragging along hers, and gripped the hem of her skirt, pulled it up and fitted himself into the vee of her legs.

They both groaned.

"I have wanted to kiss you for a year."

"Yes." Her thinking was hazy, her mind shutting down as her body tripped on sensation. She ran her hands hard down his back. Slow. Felt the shudder that shook him.

"You left." A nip to her earlobe made it an accusation. "We were playing and you ran."

"Flirting."

"So, you knew I wanted you." He slid a hand up from her waist to close over a breast. "I took things slow. Friends said you'd been burned. A relationship gone bad. I read it in your eyes. Frig, those eyes. They've haunted me."

His slow massage of her breast was turning her muscles liquid. She hooked a foot around his calf, rubbed with her toe.

He lifted her abruptly, guiding her legs to wrap around him.

It felt good, right, to hold him there. Close. "Kiss me."

Total indulgence. Time stopped. There was only the two of them and a nuclear meltdown.

"Why did you leave me?"

When she breathed in, her lungs filled with the scent of him. His taste was on her lips. "I'm not enough for you. I don't belong in your world."

He froze. Whatever he'd expected...he stared into her eyes. Then he tore away.

Her feet hit the ground and she was glad for the wall at her back. His reaction devastated her. He looked stunned, as if she'd betrayed him.

"I don't believe it." He withdrew the hand he'd steadied her with. "I don't frigging believe it."

She pulled down her skirt.

"I thought you went back to that bastard. Your old boyfriend."

"Craig? No."

"You fled Melbourne like a sea monster had swallowed the city whole. You never looked back. No reply to my messages."

She'd been tempted.

"Nothing," he shouted. Dappled light filtering through the frangipani tree painted him in shadow and shimmering bronze. Then his voice lowered, ominous, menacing and scornful. "I assumed you'd gone back to him and didn't have the guts to tell me."

Her chin went up.

"So what's this rubbish that you're not good enough for me?" He paced back, got in her space again. "Babe, you don't know me."

She stared into his devil-bright eyes and felt the heat of his body. "I do."

He swung around, away from her again. His shoulders were high, tense. "Did you know I grew up, just Mum and me, moving from town to town, place to place? She couldn't find a place to belong, so nor did I. No money meant we met the worst of life. I fought my way from nothing, Tamsin. Fought so hard so that I could help women like Mum have their dreams. Believe they're special."

She stared, trying to imagine Luke as an outsider. She could see him as a tough teenager, taking martial arts lessons to protect himself and have a place to belong. He'd have been the cool outsider at high school, the bad boy every girl wanted.

Which made his life choices all the more remarkable.

"Your clothes." The realisation of why such a masculine man had entered the world of fashion struck her to the heart. She'd watched him in Melbourne, in his small boutique on the bay at St Kilda. He'd charm his customers with his enthusiasm and praise, and somehow he always managed it: every woman walked out that bit more beautiful. But it wasn't just his clothes. It was his care and concern and passion.

It made her own insistence on art for art's sake when she designed her fabrics feel pretentious. She slumped against the wall.

Luke's eye's narrowed, but he had his own insecurities to share. He kept going. "When I met you, Tam, I knew you'd never had that uncertain life. You grew up in the suburbs, safe and secure. Your ex, Craig, could offer you the same life." And for the first time ever Luke's confident voice dipped. "He's a high school teacher, sane and sensible. Loving me is a risk, so I decided I wouldn't chase you. That you deserved—"

"Better?" She couldn't help the smile that curved her mouth, even if it was rueful. They were two self-sacrificing idiots.

He glared.

She put her arms around his neck, happiness starting a slow bubble inside her.

The muscles under her hands stayed stiff, resistant. "How can you think you're not good enough for me?" he demanded.

"Because you're Luke. Confident, clever, going places. Glamorous, seductive, teasing. A fighter, a lover."

He relaxed, putting his forehead against hers. "Your lover?"

"I'm a coward, Luke. You saw how I ran. You're building an amazing new life. You're mingling with the famous, the rich. You're going to be one of them."

"I know, babe. It doesn't matter."

"What do you mean, 'you know'?" His arrogance suddenly annoyed her. Here she was bearing her soul, her insecurities, and he..."Did you just kiss my nose?"

He kissed her mouth, long, slow and seductively. "I don't need glamour, Tamsin. That's what I sell. What I need in my life is reality. You're real. You're freaking gorgeous and you just shrug it off. It's not important to you. Your art is the people you love, strangers who need help, but not the superficial stuff. You make me feel connected."

She ran her hands down his chest and around his waist, hugging him, snuggling close. The afternoon summer heat wrapped around them, scented with frangipani and city fumes. The walls of the courtyard blocked any breeze from the harbour. Their bodies melted, shifting fractionally, accommodating one another. She ached with the rightness of being there with him. This was a connection neither could deny.

"I'm not perfect." His voice was raw, a thread of sound for her ears alone. "I'm flamboyant, determined, ambitious."

"My very own Regency dandy."

He stared at her, perhaps wondering what the hell she was talking about. Then he slowly smiled. "All yours, my darling."

His arrogance was part of him; part of the shield he'd grown through life. But he let her in to his heart, and she wasn't about to leave. "Neither of us are perfect, but maybe we're perfect for each other?"

"No maybe about it, Tam." He kissed her, no teasing, no seduction, just a breath-stealing, heart-giving promise of forever.

One she returned.

Luke first appears in Jenny Schwartz's Hero Duty

She can buy anything she wants, except the courage to stand up to her family. That's where he comes in.

Jessica Trove is a billionaire Cinderella, bullied by her family, and terrified of the responsibilities crashing down on her shoulders. She knows what she needs to do—she just needs to find the courage to do it.

That's where Brodie Carlton comes in. Jessica is used to buying anything she wants, and what she wants right now is a hero. She's going to make Brodie Carlton an offer he can't refuse: be her emotional bodyguard, and she'll make him rich. The only question is who will guard their hearts?

### No Dick Moves

Ainslie Paton

When a man asks a woman to live with him it's a big deal.

It's usually a good idea if he talks to her about it first. At least before signing a lease.

Mace isn't much of a talker.

No Dick Moves is an additional scene from Ainslie Paton's Insecure, published in March 2015 by Escape Publishing.

###  11: No Dick Moves

Mace grabbed the back of the cafe chair and pulled it around the table so he could sit facing Dillon. He'd still have a view of the harbour. It was just on 5pm, the mass scale exit from the city was about to begin.

Dillon made a face at the waitress. His flirt face. A raised eyebrow, a smirky try-hard smile.

Mace sighed. "Don't be a dick, okay."

Flirt face having failed to attract attention, Dillon tried it again with some added sitting up straighter. "You're living in my flat, dude. I kicked my girl out for you, and you think I'm going to be a dick."

He had a point. "You kicked Sharon—"

"Sharona."

"Whatever," Mace caught a waitress' eye, "out because she was a dick."

"Yeah, she was kind of. You know she stole money off me." Dillon slumped. "I liked her though."

Mace watched the movement in the cafe. Waitress approaching in six, five, four. "You like anyone who looks at you more than twice."

"This is true."

"So don't be a dick. The only experience Jacinta has had with you was that phone call."

"Hello, Dillon."

Dillon's head swung around to the waitress. "Nix. I didn't see you."

"Ah, but I saw you. I always see you. Usually ducking out on work time to sample my very fine coffee." She checked her watch. "No one is going to sack you for it today."

Mace laughed. Having not long ago quit in a blaze of totally uncharacteristic, less than smart, glory that included standing on a desktop telling jokes, and epically kissing the chick from HR, he found that funny.

Dillon smiled at Nix. Mace knew that look. "This is my friend and current, but not for long, flatmate, Mace. Mace, Nix. This is her show."

Yeah, right, it was Cafe Nix. Mace nodded at Nix. "Hi." More than a waitress. She was young to own this set up.

"It's my family's business. I'm just managing it," she said with a shrug. "Coffee?"

They ordered and Mace watched Dillon watch Nix walk away. "You have a thing for her?"

"Hell, yeah."

"Don't be a dick."

"I'm not. She's. We know each other. I come here all the time. She's got a broken heart, but she's not interested in having me fix it."

Mace picked up a roll of sugar from the canister on the table. "Not Nix. Jacinta. You were a dick."

"Oh, right. That phone call. The one where—"

"You virtually called her a slut." He put the sugar back, otherwise he'd play with it, break it, and it'd end up all over him and the table.

"How was I supposed to know she was in the room listening? Speakerphone etiquette, man. You tell the other person who's in the room. Anyway, from what you say she can easily handle my dick moves."

Some of the tension Mace felt slipped away, grains of sugar littered on a sidewalk. Jacinta could have Dillon on his knees cleaning up the sugar with his tongue in less time than their coffee order was taking. So why was he so fucking nervous about her meeting his best friend?

Because Jacinta did that to him. Made him edgy. Made him think. Made him worry she'd see through him and dump him fast enough to give him gravel rash.

Because she was more than a passing thing. More than a bed warmer; a weekend filler. She was the real deal, and he had no idea how that'd fallen in his lap. She was so out of his league there was another whole playing field for her. One where they only let in members, charged a fortune and made you wear shoes at all times.

"I want to." Shit, that was close. He almost said something deadly stupid, like I want to stay with this woman forever. He didn't even know if she'd agree to move in with him.

"Want to what?"

"Nothing."

"You want to keep her all to yourself?"

Yes, that. Mace's world had shrunk in half. Dillon was the only family he had now. Shit, he wanted this to go well. It'd be a gamer's hell if Jacinta and Dillon didn't take to each other. Stuck at one level, all points cancelled, all lives lost, throw the controller at the wall, start again.

"When are you telling her about the loft?" said Dillon.

"Not today. I don't. I just. She might not."

He'd signed the lease on a loft apartment. He'd been camped at Dillon's, or staying with Jacinta, but he needed something more permanent of his own, and the loft had the most perfect space for a studio for Jacinta. But he should've talked to her about it. They'd never discussed moving in together, or her desire for a studio. This was all on him.

"I'm an idiot."

"You didn't ask her." Dillon laughed. Their coffee was delivered by a different waitress, which stopped Mace reaching across the table to mess with Dillon.

"Hey, Tam," he said.

"Dillon."

"You look like you've been well kissed today."

"There are so many cafes in this city and yet you consistently pick Nix's," she said.

Dillon grinned at her. She made a move to step away and he said, "Wait, wait. Settle a dispute for us."

She groaned. "The things I do."

"Am I a dick?"

Total dick move. Tam physically took a step back from the table. But then she threw her head back and laughed. "You're a geek." She punched Dillon on the arm. "You're a sweetheart."

Dillon beamed. "Say that again, so my dick friend knows you mean it."

She jammed her hands on her hips and looked from Dillon to Mace. "What's this about?"

"My friend Mace is in love for the first time."

"Oh, that's so sweet." Tam was cute. She blushed. Mace might too in a minute, and it would not be cute—and Dillon would pay.

"But he's done a dick thing."

Tam's smile cratered. "Oh yeah." She pointed at Mace. "Explain yourself."

Oh shit. "I'm not. You're busy." He picked up his cup and sipped.

She looked around. The place was half empty. "Pre-dinner lull. I'm all yours. Plus I'm working a double. I could do with the entertainment."

Dillon leant forward. "A dick move would be to disappoint Tam." He sat back again, smug bloody look on his face. "Come on, Mace, live a little. Make a girl's day."

Tam laughed. She did look like she'd been kissed well today. She didn't need his idiot story. "I could punch you instead, Dill, and that would be entertaining."

"It would get you thrown out," Tam said. "Come on, I'm not that not busy."

Mace sighed, took another sip and put his cup down. "I want my girlfriend to move in with me."

She frowned. "Where's the dick move in that?"

"He's going to spring the idea on her with a lease on a loft," said Dillon.

"Oh. Hmm," she said, her eyes narrowing further.

"What does that mean?" Mace said. This was like a beta test for the real thing. He suddenly needed to know what she thought.

"You didn't talk to her about it first?"

"He's not much of a one for talking," said Dillon.

"I got that," she said.

Mace shook his head. He looked out to the harbour where a ferry was pulling in.

"Is she a girl who likes surprises?" said Tam.

Jacinta, surprises? She was a woman who liked to be in control, who knew what she wanted and went and got it. He was so in over his head with her. The loft was five times bigger than he needed for himself.

"I don't know."

"You don't know." She gasped. "But you want her to move in with you?"

Holy fuck. She was right. How could he ask Jacinta to move in with him if he didn't even know if she liked surprises? He swallowed the rest of his coffee in one hit. "Can I order another of these, please?"

"Sure." Tam took Dillon's second order and the empty cups, and left them.

There was a person dressed as the Statue of Liberty standing on the walkway outside the cafe. Hard to tell what sex they were. Everything was silver, from the swirling robes to the thick makeup. The whole time they'd been talking, the statue's arm with its torch was held aloft. That was a bloody hard way to make a living. Mace could have worse problems than having a shit hot girlfriend, and new lease that might've been a mistake to take out.

"It's not that difficult, Mace."

He brought his eyes back to Dillon. The guy was in his head.

"You ask her, she says yes, everything is sweet. You ask her, she says no, that sucks, but you can't keep sleeping on my sofa anyway, you'll end up crippled. And you need somewhere to work from."

"I'm going to need two jobs to pay the rent on that place if I have to do it alone." The crap call centre help desk job he'd start Monday wasn't going to cut it, but if he needed a second job he'd have no time left to work on Ipseity.

"Hey, before you get to that worst case. I'll dump my lease and move into the loft with you."

Mace laughed. It would be better than the way they were living now. And he would be a hunchback if he spent much more time on Dillon's couch. Not that he'd suffered it that often. Jacinta was happy to have him in her bed, but that wasn't the point. He had no space of his own and he didn't like how that made him feel: dependent, temporary, drifting.

"You need to keep working on the biz. I need to keep chasing finance so there is a biz for you to keep working on."

Dillon had his head screwed on. Stressing about the loft was a waste of time. Their priority was Ipseity. Just because they'd failed to get funding so far didn't mean they'd give up. It was the dream, their own business. No more working for anyone else. They'd wanted this since they were boys, both of them loners. Dillon with his asthma and a household of brothers who beat up on him for being a ranga, and Mace with his terminal shyness and only his grandmother, Buster, for family.

They'd dreamed big then, around Buster's kitchen table, their ambition and crazy ideas, and her craft projects; bits and bytes sharing space with glitter and ceramic paints, and now they were trying to make it happen, which meant day jobs and every other hour they had poured against building the software, and finding the finance to take it live.

Once, keeping that straight in his head had been easier, since Jacinta, not so much. And it was a dick move, not talking to her first, and it wasn't because he wanted to surprise her.

"I don't know how to be in a relationship." He was a one night stand veteran by design. Avoiding entanglement was his specialisation. His longest relationship with a woman was with Buster. "I guess it was a dick move."

Before Dillon could sound off, Tam came back with their coffee. She put the saucers on the table. "Here's what I think, Mace. Be straight with her. Tell her you might've been a little spontaneous and you understand this might not be what she wants, and you're cool with that. But package it up so she can see the benefits."

Mace picked up his cup. "Package it?" Like, what ham?

"Yeah, don't just say babe, look what I got for us, move in with me, and expect her to be bedazzled. Romance her," said Dillon.

"But don't pressure her," said Tam.

Romance wasn't something he had much experience with, and pressure Jacinta? Fat chance. He sipped. No way was this likely to make her feel pressured. Until recently she'd been the CEO in waiting for a big bank and he'd been the geek from IT. She had a palatial office on the executive floor with sweeping views of the city. He worked in a cubicle so crowded in by other cubicles it was sometimes hard to think. That they'd ever come together was the best spontaneous decision either of them had ever made, but it had more to do with animal attraction and conspiring circumstances than any forward planning.

"Because pressuring a woman, that's a dick move," Tam said. "Unless of course she likes a little, um," she took a step back, "oh, never mind. Let me know if you need anything else."

They both watched her back away then bend over to pick up a customer's dropped spoon.

"Interesting," said Dillon, eyes fixed on her legs.

Mace kicked his chair. "Don't be a dick."

They both laughed and that's how Jacinta found them.

She didn't look like a frustrated unemployed CEO today. She looked gorgeous, a summery dress and flat shoes, her hair loose and big sunglasses on. Mace stood and held his arm out, she walked into his embrace. He kissed her cheek, but then she turned her face up and he kissed her again. Shame this was a public place. Still he took that kiss as deep as she let him.

She broke away laughing. "Have you been eating chocolate?"

There was chocolate sprinkled on the top of the cappuccino. He grabbed a chair from an empty table for her. "Jacinta, this is Dillon."

She took her sunglasses off and held her hand out. Dillon was already standing. They shook. They eyed each other over. It was a weird moment. The two most important people in his life taking each other's measure. Mace dropped into his chair. This was worse than a job interview.

Dillon had the grace to wait until Jacinta took her seat. "How are you enjoying unemployment?" But the crassness to ask that question. Mace gripped the table edge.

"Now that I've gotten over the anger part, I'm appreciating the time off." She put her hand over his and he took a breath.

"And Mace, are you enjoying him too?"

Fuck. "Dillon."

Jacinta laughed. She leaned towards Dillon. "You have no idea how much. He does this thing where—"

Dillon put his hands over his face. "Okay." He laughed. "Okay." He looked at Mace and nodded. "Okay, then."

Mace coughed. "Dick." He flipped his hand and wrapped his fingers through Jacinta's. He knew what that was about. Dillon pushing and being pushed back, approving.

Jacinta squeezed his hand. She'd worked out he was nervous and she knew what Dillon was up to as well. "Do I pass, Dillon?"

Dillon grinned at her. "You might. He's a bit rough around the edges. Could do with some civilising."

She smiled at Mace. "I happen to like those rough parts."

Great, now they were going to talk about him as if had no visible means of hearing like a seagull. He made eye contact with Tam across the cafe.

"Do you like surprises?" Dillon said.

Mace grunted in annoyance.

Jacinta studied Dillon, but squeezed his hand. "That depends."

"On?"

"A lot of things. On the whole, I'm not keen on them. They're usually someone else's idea of a good time. In business they're deadly."

"Good to know," said Dillon. He knocked Mace's foot for emphasis.

"But sometimes a good surprise is just what a person needs." She rubbed her thumb over Mace's knuckles. "I was due a good surprise."

Mace bumped his knee on hers and when she didn't shift away, he moved his heel so their legs, shoe to shin were pressed together. He didn't start out a surprise. Jacinta propositioned him. She'd engineered their night together and he'd nearly blown the opportunity off because she was seriously beautiful, and so far above him in the company hierarchy she could have him sacked quicker than she could wet her lips. He'd resented the implication of her slumming it.

When he'd seen her car, her apartment, that impression was blasted out of the water. She was so far out of his world he might've been a charity case to her. But she didn't treat him like that. She was titanium tough to the outside world, but she was also tired, very alone and lonely, and she'd let him see that. So he'd stayed because he'd wanted her and now he wasn't sure how he was supposed to hold on to her.

Another round of coffee was ordered. Mace listened as Dillon and Jacinta worked each other's coding out. The remaining tension in his shoulders slowly dissolved, sugar in heat. The two of them were going to be compatible. The relief in that was so palpable he could've kissed them both.

Dillon was his family, and his future was so meshed to the dreams they'd had as boys there was no decoding them. But Jacinta was in his blood and he craved her as much as he recognised the threat she posed. She was still slumming it. She'd go back to her high-powered career and he'd be a holiday romance, something she'd done to fill in time.

He shook his head, drank that third cup of coffee too quickly. He looked out over the busy walkway, commuters thick on the ground now, rushing for ferries and trains, anxious to be home. He had no reason to think that way, to be so insecure about Jacinta. Except that's why he hadn't talked to her about moving in together. Once she said no, he'd know exactly where he stood. He'd be redundant programming, outmoded tech.

And he didn't want to give her up yet. So he did have to package the idea of living together in a space that belonged to both of them. If only he understood how.

Jacinta leant into him. "Where have you gone?"

He looked back at her. The Statue of Liberty had disappeared. He'd been so lost in thought he hadn't seen the moment when the actor had become a pedestrian and left his harbourside stage.

"I'm here."

"I don't feel the need to have Dillon roughed up," Jacinta glanced across at Dillon and he grinned at her, "and I think he's okay with me."

"She'll do," said Dillon. Such a dick.

She laughed then turned to face Mace. "I have to go." She stood, and before he could get his feet under him, she pushed her hand into his hair and tipped his head back. They locked eyes and he saw all the reasons he loved her and all the reasons he might not be good enough for her crash together.

She smiled. "I'll see you at home."

She didn't make it a question. She wasn't asking. She was expecting, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

But she saw his uncertainty. "Mace, are you—"

He leapt up, collected her in his arms and kissed her hard. Too hard. Jacinta's arms went around him, her bag banged on his hip, her chair barked on the tile. Dillon whooped. She pulled back laughing. She was getting used to the fact he struggled to put thoughts into words, preferred action over conversation.

"Does that mean you're making dinner?"

He released her with a nod, hands trailing over her shoulders, down her back and arms to her hands. She truly was a terrible cook. "Any requests?"

She squeezed his hands. "Whatever you want."

Dillon groaned. "Stop, the domesticity is killing me."

Jacinta rolled her eyes. "Good to know something will."

He responded with, "She'll be here all week, folks," in his best talk-show host voice and Jacinta laughed and stepped away, keeping hold of one of Mace's hands until the last minute.

They both watched her go and Mace caught Tam's eye. He needed a drink, something stronger than coffee. He had to stop freaking out about having Jacinta in his life, about being into someone so deeply, and he had to start using his words. If he didn't learn to talk to her, he'd lose her for sure.

"Jacinta's something, dude." All the fun and games had dropped out of Dillon's manner.

She was everything that wasn't Ipseity. "I know. I scored."

"You, who never gave a shit about being in a relationship, I can't believe it."

"What are you saying?"

"I knew you were gone on her, but seeing you together, it's a worry."

A flash of silver caught Mace's eye. The Statue of Liberty was back. Arm aloft. That dude had some moves, patience, stamina, confidence. "What?"

"I'm not sure it's good for you. You're a one-track guy. She's a distraction. You might lose your focus and then what happens to us, to the business."

Anger flared. "Are you kidding me?" Dillon did relationships like other people got paid. Always working on the next monthly deposit. He had no right to take that stand.

Dillon scratched his head, tried to hide his smile and failed. He kicked Mace's chair. "I'm fucking jealous."

Mace looked at Liberty and saw the humour. He mouthed the words "two beers" at Tam and she gave him a thumbs up. He leant across the table, got in Dillon's face and said, "Don't be a dick."

About Insecure by Ainslie Paton

She could have him sacked quicker than licking her lips. He could ruin her reputation with an email.

Jacinta was the CEO in waiting. Mace was the geek from IT. She had an office suite on the top floor. He worked in cubicle hell.

She had power, influence, her life mapped out. He had big dreams, and an appetite for risk.

They had one hot night written all over them. Except the city conspired to turn that night into a weekend of unexpected passion and deep connection.

But the world can be an uncertain place, even for two confident people. Will love be enough when Jacinta's star falls and Mace's dream takes flight, or will ambition, expectation and insecurity pull them apart?

### 12 Bells and a Baby

Jennie Jones

Every big thing in Kate and Jamie's lives happens in a heatwave, and today is no exception.

12 Bells and a Baby is an additional scene taking place five years after Kate and Jamie met in 12 Days at Silver Bells House, book two in the Swallow's Fall series, published by Escape Publishing in December 2014.

###  12: 12 Bells and a Baby

Kate Singleton knew how to walk onto a fashion shoot, into a high-powered meeting or in this case, into a restaurant. Kate Knight, however, had forgotten that Singleton's legs were no longer executive and therefore not used to spike-heeled stilettos.

"Holy mackerel," she said to the solid wall of muscle at her side. "Feet are dead."

Jamie Knight, husband of five years, tower of strength and the best guy she'd ever been to bed with, chuckled; his leather-brown eyes twinkling, his sexy forty-six-inch chest filled with his solid, sensational heart.

Kate smiled back, acknowledging but not mentioning his earlier softly spoken observation that she might be better off in flat pumps. She ran a hand down her ponytail, clasped high on the top of her head so that any cool air around might find the back of her neck. Why did all the important things in her life happen in a heatwave? She'd met Jamie in a heatwave, wearing wellies and a straw hat while trying to find her way in the country, now here she was back in the swanky society of Sydney, sweltering in Collette Dinnigan linen.

"Told you we should have taken a water taxi," Jamie said.

Two weeks they'd been away from home, living out of a suitcase at the Park Hyatt. Walking was better for Kate—what with her stomach going weak on her since they'd arrived. "The water smells."

"No it doesn't, it's great."

"It's the churning." She glanced around Cafe Nix ground floor restaurant. "They won't remember, will they?"

Jamie put his hand to the small of her back and led them further into the cafe. "Of course not. Breakfast was hours ago."

"And I wasn't actually sick," Kate said. "I was only nearly sick."

"No one will remember."

A young waitress popped up at their side, giving them a bright, dimply smile. "Hi, again. So how are you feeling?" she asked Kate.

"I was only nearly sick," Kate said, forgetting the pain on the balls of her feet as the memory of her public humiliation at breakfast bounced to the fore. She'd made a run for the ladies, almost gagging—but hadn't been sick after all.

"Your restrooms are safe tonight," Jamie said to the waitress. "She's hungry."

"Starving." It wasn't true. Kate's stomach was doing an un-synchronised swimming routine. It's just nerves, she told herself, and studied the waitress. "Tamsin", the cute little name tag said.

Kate was no longer a fashion guru at the forefront of the industry spotlight, she was a country-dwelling wife and an online fashion designer whizz, which meant she kept her eyes peeled and her brain whirling. She ran her mental tape measure over Tamsin. Vogue. One of their water nymph shoots. Or maybe something for Alannah Hill.

"We're in for an early dinner," Jamie told the waitress. "We're off to a show."

"I've never had a child before," Kate said, used to ignoring the agony of this fact. Things were about to change and she was as grateful as a bursting watermelon for the astonishing joy she'd been shown since she'd met and married Jamie Knight.

"Neither have I," Tamsin said, picking up two menus and leading them to a table by the window, overlooking the shaded outdoor deck. "What a gorgeous plant," Tamsin said over her shoulder.

"Thanks." Kate clutched the pot plant, not caring if soil spoiled the Paradise Print of her Dinnigan belted shirt dress. "Christmas Bells. A florist at Circular Quay was selling them. It reminds me of home. We live in the Snowy Mountains, a town called Swallow's Fall. Ninety-nine people. Our house is called Silver Bells House. Adorable, huh?" Twelve bell-shaped flower heads bobbed on their sturdy green stems against Collette's linen. Kate fingered the leaves. "We'll be taking twelve bells home to Silver Bells House."

"How sweet," Tamsin said.

"We've just built an extension. My husband's a stonemason."

"Same table as this morning?"

"Thanks," Jamie said, taking Kate's elbow in the palm of his Master Builder's hand.

"I'm a fashion designer."

"I can tell," Tamsin said as they reached their table. She ran an eye down Kate's sleeveless dress, her gaze hovering on Kate's stomach. "So when are you due?"

"Not me!" Kate said, putting a hand on her flat stomach. "Someone else had the child but the bastards didn't want him." She flicked her pearly-pink-polished fingertips towards the door as though the bastards were outside, laughing as they did a let's-get-rid-of-this-child Cha-Cha on the waterfront. "So we're getting lucky." Their loss.

"An eleven-year-old boy," Jamie said, his low, rumbling voice and soft smile telling the world he couldn't wait; was as proud as any expectant father.

"I'm nervous," Kate said as she took the seat Jamie pulled out for her and put the pot plant down along with her purse. "I'm about to become the mother of a near-teenager—" She shot a panicked look at Jamie. "Jamie, I don't know anything about teenagers."

Jamie dragged his chair out, and sat. "You'll be fantastic." He took the menus off Tamsin, put one in front of Kate and opened his, scanning with a frown of concentration.

Kate slipped her shoes off and scrunched her toes. Heaven.

Jamie looked over the top of his menu. "So what are you going to throw up for dinner?"

'I wasn't actually sick," Kate reminded him. "They just made me feel sick. They were wobbling on the plate.'

"Great eggs," Jamie said. "Loved mine. Loved yours."

Eggs? Don't talk to Kate about eggs. What about Kate's eggs? Where had they gone? Had she had any to begin with?

"I've never been a mother before," she told Tamsin, wondering if they served dry toast. "I don't have the eggs."

"Eggs are only on the breakfast menu, actually," Tamsin said. "But I can ask Chef what he can do?"

Jamie chuckled, and peered at Kate. "Really," he asked as Tamsin left the table after telling them she'd give them a few minutes. "How are you feeling?"

"Have you noticed how everyone knows our business?"

"That's because you keep telling them."

"I haven't said a word!"

"Kate. How are you feeling?"

Kate shrugged a hot, bare shoulder. "Still sick. It's nerves." Except that the nerves had been with her all week. Mostly in the mornings. She hadn't been nervous with any of the meetings they'd had with the adoption agency, or with their gorgeous young boy. She'd been fine; excited, expectant. Holy knitted baby bonnets. Why had the word "expectant" cropped up? Kate didn't know what her eggs had been playing at; they hadn't been whipped up and scrambled by Jamie's sperm, that was for sure, and she'd long ago given up reading the pamphlets about why not, but really—her insides were screaming at her: we're here. We're pushing upstream. Go on, do one more test.

"Evening, guys. How was your day?" Nix, the cafe owner asked, heading towards them with a water jug and a basket of bread rolls.

Kate didn't have to wonder about Nix. Armani. Pure and simple. Structured design for the smart working woman.

"Hope you're feeling better," Nix said to Kate. "Never had anyone throw up after eating our eggs Benedict—let alone just looking at the plate."

"I only nearly—"

"She's fine," Jamie said. He smiled at Nix. "By the way, can we have another place setting? We'll be three for dinner. I forgot to tell Tamsin."

Nix paused, eyes widened. "Did it...I mean, is it sorted? Just like that? Your son's joining you?"

Kate felt a pull of motherly pride deep in her belly. "His name is Raphael," she said, unable to stop the smile burgeoning on her face. "He's wonderful. He looks a bit like your barista, actually—without the cheesy tattoos, obviously. He's only eleven."

"Ramon?" Nix asked. "He's from the Philippines."

Raphael was from Australia. An unwanted little boy, thrown from one foster family to the next. Until now.

"We'll be having a final meeting with our boy tomorrow," Jamie told Nix.

Our boy! Kate closed her eyes and saw his sweet, shy face in her mind. It was real. They were having a child. Her uplifted heart outweighed the low-slung problems in her stomach. Life was so good. The heatwave was great.

"Congratulations," Nix said, "that's fantastic news."

"Thanks," Jamie said. "My sister is joining us—that's why we need the extra place."

"No problem."

"We're going to learn Portuguese," Kate said, opening her eyes.

Jamie looked up from the menu. "Raphael doesn't speak Portuguese."

"No, but he should. It's where his forebears hail from."

"Okay." Jamie handed Nix his menu. "I'll have the beef tenderloin, extra asparagus and mashed potatoes on the side. And next time we're in Sydney, I'll be asking for it in Portuguese."

"And?" Nix's dark brown eyes held humour as she asked Kate the big question.

Nothing. Dry toast. Or a crispbread. "I'll have the Tasmanian Ocean Trout."

"Too easy." Nix left and Kate concentrated on the wire breadbasket. She'd try a rye bread roll, no butter.

"Katie, you don't like fish."

She shrugged, but didn't glance up at her all-knowing husband. "I'll only be looking at it. You can eat it. I'm not eating." She pulled the basket towards her.

"Katie..."

She bowed her head and scrunched her eyes closed. "It's impossible, Jamie." It couldn't be right. Her silly gut instinct had got it wrong.

"What is?" Jamie prised the basket out of her tightened fingers and took hold of her hand. "Tell me."

It wasn't the place or the time to mention...what she'd been wondering. "I just—you know—I mean, I..." her voice trailed off. Impossible. Baby boots impossible.

"Kate, sweetheart." His lowered tone, rough with care, made Kate look up at him. It was difficult keeping anything from him, but Kate gave it a go with a smile, then blinked at the love of her life, knowing in her soul she couldn't hide anything from him and didn't want to.

He looked at her for a long time, his brow furrowed and his gaze pounding into Kate's. "I've been wondering the same thing," he said at last.

Kate's heart swelled so big she couldn't punch it down. "I can't be," she said in a whisper as air filled her lungs. For years they'd tried—enjoying every "try" but not scoring a baby. Five years, two months and zilch. Diddly-squat. Her eggs didn't like swimming with the boys, they preferred their own party and didn't want guests.

"You might be. It's not been like this before, has it?"

He was right. Every time she'd thought, okay, possibly this time, it was a negative single pink line. The times she'd felt morning sickness must have only been morning hope. "I can't be."

"Why don't we check?" he asked.

Kate swallowed the sick feeling, but it bounced against hope nevertheless. "We're going to be a family of three. I'm happy with that."

"So am I, but if we become a family of four, better for all. Let's check, Katie."

We're swimming. We're swimming, the sperm said. We might have arrived. You need to check. Okay, so maybe she'd check. One more time. "They won't take Raphael off us, will they?" she asked, joy from wonder and fear of failure colliding like a bag of marshmallows thrown at a Knight Works fourteen tonne digger. "You know, like—if."

"No way. We wouldn't let them. He's ours and we're his."

"I don't want to go to the show anymore."

"We won't. We'll wait for Megan to join us then go back to the hotel. We'll get a pregnancy test from an all-night pharmacy."

"No need," Kate admitted, feeling her face flush. "I bought one. This morning, while you were out getting trowels and plumblines and I was supposed to be buying postcards."

"So go check."

"Here? Now?"

Jamie stood. "Here. Now." He picked up the water jug and poured into a glass.

"I don't need that. I can pee." Kate picked up her evening purse and pulled out the all-day, anytime, any-kind-of-pee pregnancy test she'd hidden in the notes compartment.

"Are you sure?" she asked Jamie.

"Do you want to wait?"

"No."

"Neither do I. Go pee, Katie." He smiled at her. "Do you think they'd let me come in with you?"

Kate found a grin on her face. "That's a little perverse," she told him as she stood, "for a public place." She took his hand and squeezed it. "Back in a sec." She tiptoed across the floor, still barefoot but her stilettos would only hinder. She was on a mission. Jamie's sperm needed her to get to the toilet fast.

"Hey, Katie Knight!"

She turned to Jamie, but kept walking backwards.

"Any result. Doesn't matter, okay?"

She nodded, her smile quivering on her lips. Solid, sexy, sensational man. All hers. All storms. Through the lot. She turned for the ladies, tripped on the leg of a chair some guy was sitting in, toppled sideways, smashed her funny bone on the tabletop and dropped the pregnancy test onto the guy's lap.

"Shit! I need that!" She dove for the man's knees.

The man opened his legs and the test fell through the gap and onto the floor. Kate fell through the gap—head down—and made a grab at whatever she could to steady herself.

"Lady, get off my legs!" He had his hands on her waist, wrangling to get her off his knees.

"Kate?" Jamie called.

"Don't touch it!" She yelled, knocking the man's hand away as he tried to reach it. "You don't know where it's going." And she wanted it clean.

"For God's sake!" The man pushed back against his chair and took his hands off her.

"Got it!" Kate pulled herself up and banged her head on the underside of table. 'Ouch.' She braced herself with a hand on the man's... "Oh, God, I'm so sorry!"

"Get your hand off that!"

She'd grabbed his...arsenal. His missile. His swinging bits. Holy moly.

"Excuse me, could I have my wife back?"

Jamie hauled her up and to her feet. "Are you okay?" He led her a few steps away from the fracas she'd caused.

"Oh, God, Jamie, I touched his..." Kate trembled, clutching the test stick in her hand.

"I don't want to know, Kate."

"It was an accident. I only ever touch yours."

"I believe you."

"Sorry about this, sir." Nix's voice echoed in Kate's head with a calm clarity. "The lady's unwell. Why don't we freshen this wine with another bottle—on the house."

"I'll pay," Jamie said.

"No need," Nix said. "You've got your hands full."

"I need to pee," Kate told Nix, waving the packaged test wand.

"Of course you do."

Jamie waited at the bar, his focus on the ladies restroom, willing the door to open.

Doesn't matter, he told himself. Which-way. So long as Kate's okay.

"This is a little nerve-racking."

Jamie started. He forced a smile for Nix. "We're used to it. Been at this point a few times."

"How long has she been in there now?"

Jamie glanced at the oversized cafe clock above the bar. "Four minutes." Time enough to pee. Time enough for the damn thing to show a single pink line. Maybe she was crying. Shit, he hoped not. Not when she was locked in a ladies-only cubicle. "I'm going to give her two more minutes," he told Nix. "Then I'm going in."

"I'll go first," Nix said. "Clear the way. And if you need it, there's a room out the back. You can both spend a bit of time in there."

If they needed it.

Jamie didn't care about anything except having Kate with him. They both wanted children, but the kids didn't have to come from either of them as far as he was concerned. They were adopting a boy now, and they'd adopt another young child. Perhaps they'd adopt ten kids.

"How long now?" Nix asked.

Jamie looked up at the clock. "Christ, this is killing me. I have to go in."

Nix put a hand on his arm to halt him.

The restroom door burst open.

Jamie tried to focus on Kate, but his vision had hazed.

"Jamie Knight," she called. "Remember how I said I hadn't told anybody any of our business but they knew it anyway?"

Um...yeah. He kind of remembered but surely this wasn't the time...

"Well, I'm spilling the beans," Kate continued. "Right here. I don't care if everyone knows. I don't care about the pain—"

Oh, Christ...

"—of humiliation. So watch out, Mr Knight, because I'm going to hurl myself into your arms in front of all these people." She paused, and Jamie tried to take a breath.

Katie, Katie—you crazy woman. "I love her so much," he said.

Nix let go of his arm and stepped back.

Kate lifted her hand, smiled and waved the test wand at him. "Two pink lines!"

"Two?" Christ—two?

"Congratulations," Nix said quietly. "I'll open the champagne—and the ginger ale."

A woman stood and started clapping. Then another. Suddenly each woman in the cafe was on her feet, applauding. Some guy wolf-whistled and then another. The noise in Jamie's head was a mixture of thunderous shock, forks tapped glass, chairs scraped on the wooden floor as everyone stood.

Jamie headed for his wife, his heart as full as a barrel of the best cognac.

Kate dashed towards him, her smile as wide as the river back home; barefoot and beautiful in the middle of a smart Sydney restaurant and Jamie thanked God for having found Kate.

He caught her, held her.

"You're crazy," he told her, his mouth against her hair, his arms around her.

"We're going to be four, Jamie."

Hell, he'd been happy being two, but if they suddenly became seventy-two that was fine by him. As long as she stayed with him. Always.

"You know what this means?" she whispered. She pulled from him and beamed up at him; she floored him, stunned him.

So this was the bloom he'd heard about. He'd been looking at it all week and had thought it was the heat and the designer label shopping.

"What?" he asked.

"Swallow's Fall population count is gonna hit one-hundred-and-one."

Jamie grinned. "And you hit my heart, Katie." Every time, and all over again.

About 12 Days at Silver Bells House by Jennie Jones

Christmas—Australian country style: there's no snow, there's a heatwave and a problem with Santa. Fortunately, there's mistletoe...

Kate Singleton has twelve days to find herself. With Christmas Day and her thirtieth birthday approaching, the best thing a city-chic fashion designer who no longer has a raison d'être can do is nullify herself in the country. With chardonnay.

When trouble strikes, the country presents her with Jamie Knight—a gallant but uncommunicative He-Man who drives an excavator and rescues her, her shoes, and her case of chardonnay from a boggy field.

The adventure should be over—nothing but a good story to tell to her friends in the city—but her saviour turns out to also be an unexpected roommate, the new owner of Silver Bells House, Kate's holiday home.

Forced together and dragged into the community Christmas spirit of the town, Kate and Jamie flounder their way through mistletoe, kissing games, carolling choirs, and a bone-deep yearning for community and acceptance.

Can the enchanting Silver Bells House and the holidays bind them together? Or will love get lost on Highway B23 back to the city?

### In Safe Company

Lee Christine

The bikie turf war has returned to Sydney, and the lawyers for the Southern Cross, Poole Greenwood, are at risk of a retaliatory strike from the Altar Boys.

In Safe Company is a short story featuring secondary characters, Dickson Cross and Natalie Slater, from romantic suspense series In Safe Hands, In Safe Arms and In Safe Keeping, published by Escape Publishing.

###  13: In Safe Company

Natalie watched the commotion taking place inside Cafe Nix from the doorway of the adjoining function room. The smartly dressed owner, a woman of European descent after whom the cafe was named, was attending an emotional couple who were dining in the restaurant.

The female patron was in floods of tears, her male companion on his feet, the owner beckoning over a waiter. Earlier, the young woman had rushed into the bathroom.

Natalie had taken notice.

So had Detective Dickson Cross of Sydney's Gang Squad.

While Dickson went over to the table to investigate, Natalie turned and scanned the assembled group in the function room behind her. Within seconds, she caught the enquiring eye of her employer, former SAS Commander and security expert, Luke Neilson, the owner of Neilson's Security. He was standing beside his wife, Allegra Greenwood. Known in Sydney law circles as "the perfumed steamroller", the cool blonde was a partner of the prestigious law firm, Poole Greenwood. Next to Allegra was Evan Barclay, former rugby union international. The cocktail party was being held in honour of Barclay's appointment as a junior partner of the firm.

Natalie gave a slight shake of her head, and Luke's broad shoulders lowered as he visibly relaxed. Whatever was going on with the young couple out in the restaurant, she was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the reason she and Dickson Cross were in attendance tonight.

She turned around as Cross came towards her. Tall and athletic with a shaved head and intelligent, blue eyes, he was as attractive as the day they'd first met at Goulburn Police Academy.

Natalie's body tightened as her eyes locked on his. Did he remember that night? The bourbon-flavoured kisses and aroused gropes they'd exchanged in a dark corner of some police cadet's lounge room? While her brain couldn't recall the party's host, the memory of Dickson's hot, demanding mouth on hers, his cool hands as they slipped under her blouse and unhooked her bra, was burned into her cerebral cortex.

Oh God!

Heat suffused Natalie's face and her nipples hardened inside the lacy bra she always wore beneath her black pants suit. Dickson Cross had been one man who'd really made her feel it, and if she ever got another chance to lay her hands on his impressively muscular frame, she'd work his body over good and proper.

She wouldn't be saying no this time.

"What's going on?" she asked, as one by one every patron in the restaurant got to their feet and broke into applause.

"She's pregnant. That's why she took so long in the bathroom. She was doing a test. Been trying forever apparently."

Natalie watched Dickson resume his position on the other side of the doorway. Life could be so unfair. It was obvious, from the couple's unbridled joy, they'd been to hell and back trying to fall pregnant, while she'd got knocked up from one unsatisfying fuck that had barely lasted two minutes. "Bloody hell."

Dickson slanted her an amused look, hands shoved into his trouser pockets. "Come on. You've got two kids. You must have felt that kind of excitement."

Guilt and regret hit Natalie square in the chest. Excitement? No. Shock, horror and a paralysing fear that her life had veered way off course was more like it. And her reaction had been so unfair to Jake, her charming ten year old who, along with his younger brother, were the greatest joys in her life.

"I was surprised when I heard you'd started a family," Dickson was saying. "I hadn't picked you as an early casualty."

Natalie smiled and shook her head a little. "You still have a way with words, Cross. Jake was unplanned. I'm ashamed to say my emotions at the time were hardly joyous."

"I didn't know." He rested one hand low on his hip, while the other jingled loose change in his pocket. "I got stationed to Wagga."

"I know." Maybe if he hadn't gone to Wagga, she wouldn't have gotten involved with the loser.

Determined to shake off her morose mood and get her mind back on the job, Natalie once again studied the crowd behind her. Evan Barclay was chatting to Nate Hunter, Special Assistant to the Commissioner of Police. Beside Nate was his petite fiancée, Josephine Valenti, Allegra Greenwood's personal assistant. Towering over Josie, with short cropped silver hair, was the lanky form of principal partner, Simon Poole. The remainder of the crowd were a mix of clients and business associates.

"So, is it true?" She turned back just as Nix popped the cork on a bottle of Moet for the young couple. "Are the Southern Cross and Altar Boys at war again?"

"You know the bikies." Dickson slanted a glance at her. "The turf war's never really over."

"But you and Hunter pulled off the biggest organised crime bust in the nation's history."

Dickson lowered his voice. "Word is, the overseer's controlling things from inside."

The overseer?

Sydney's Mr Big.

"Didn't the entire Altar Boys' hierarchy end up in the slammer?"

Dickson gave a curt nod.

"So I'm guessing you have no idea of the contact on the outside, otherwise we wouldn't be standing here guarding the lawyers for the Southern Cross."

"You know, you're as sharp as ever, Slater."

"And you had a full head of hair in the academy."

Dickson grinned then, and Natalie's heart skipped two beats.

"Interesting, too, how the New South Wales police can't seem to cope without the help of Neilson's."

"Don't get tickets on yourself, Slater, because you sold out and joined the private sector. You've worked with Luke long enough to know he won't let anyone within fifty yards of his wife."

That was true.

Luke had been like a man possessed when Allegra had a stalker.

"And as for Nate, I think he's sorry he didn't take that job with the Australian Federal Police."

Natalie nodded her understanding, uneasy at the thought of another looming bikie war. Luke's instructions tonight had been simple, and nothing to get too worked up about.

We're taking precautions. Just keep an eye out for anything unusual.

It was the smart thing to do. For the most part, the bikies' retaliatory strikes were aimed at the rival gang. But with a new player carrying out the overseer's instructions, Luke had every reason to fear a counterstrike could be aimed at the Southern Cross's legal representatives.

Natalie took a deep breath, grateful she'd made the decision years ago to get off the force for the sake of the kids. There were still risks involved with working for Luke, but nothing like the risks Dickson Cross faced in the gang squad.

A chill rolled down Natalie's spine as she resumed her perusal of the cafe.

Who was the new faceless person taking instructions from inside Goulburn Maximum Security?

And what was their modus operandi?

"How's everything looking?"

Dickson turned as Nate Hunter joined them in the doorway. "We've had a pregnancy celebration. That's about it."

"Things are starting to wind up inside." Nate's eyes did a quick sweep of the diners. "Why don't you two do a circuit of the exterior? Luke and I will take over here until you get back. If everything's clear, we'll give Poole Greenwood's staff the all clear to leave."

A few minutes later, Dickson stepped onto the sandstone verandah of Cafe Nix and dragged the oxygen into his lungs. A cool breeze wafted in from the Pacific, lowering the temperature and improving everybody's mood, if the happy Friday night revellers on the street were any indication.

Natalie jogged down the three steps to the pavement. "So you want to split up and I'll meet you back here?"

"No way." Dickson followed her down and took hold of her elbow. "We stick together."

She pulled her arm from his grasp, though she fell into step beside him. "I'm not on the force anymore, Cross, you don't get to tell me what to do."

Dickson didn't care.

He'd already got his way.

They were going together.

Going together? He'd thought about asking Nat to go with him exclusively at the academy, especially after the night they'd hooked up at that party. But she'd pulled down her top, pushed his hands away and reminded him that in a few weeks' time the graduates would be posted to all four corners of New South Wales.

She was being sensible.

For both of them.

The next thing he knew she was married with a baby.

"So what happened to Allan?" he asked as they rounded the corner and began their surveillance.

He'd been dying to ask her all night.

"He had an affair."

Loser.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not. We had nothing in common except a one night stand which resulted in Jake being born. We would have made each other miserable. It's better this way. Better for the kids."

"Sure." Dickson didn't quite know the appropriate response for that, so he didn't say anything, just breathed in her perfume and continued walking.

The street was quiet, and as far as he could see, there wasn't a sign of a single motorbike even parked at the curb.

"So what about you, Cross? Do you have some little woman tucked away somewhere?"

Dickson's heart shifted up a gear and he smiled in the shadows. Maybe she wasn't completely immune to him after all. "Nah, I'm always the best man."

"Maybe you should grow your hair back." She gave a soft, amused giggle. "Or isn't that an option?"

They rounded the corner into a dark laneway, which ran down one side of the building. Instinctively Dickson moved closer, pleased when she didn't go all defensive and move away.

Eyes still peeled on the street, he put his lips against her ear. "You'll keep, Slater, you know that. You'll keep."

She did a top to toe tremble, and Dickson's body roared to life at her reaction. His breath caught at the back of his throat and his dick turned to concrete in his pants.

Was it his lucky night?

Did the gorgeous Natalie Slater still feel it the way he did?

Suddenly, it was important she knew he didn't have a receding hairline.

"Hunter and I swim every morning at North Sydney pool," he said as they turned the corner and came back around in front of the Cafe Nix. "I got jack of my hair always being wet in the mornings, especially in winter. Besides, the shave makes me look more badarse."

He could see her now they were back in the light. She'd stopped and was gazing up at him, brown eyes shining, lips slightly parted.

Instinctively, Dickson bent his head, pulse pounding with new-found energy.

Natalie's eyes widened.

He stopped.

Checked himself.

Blew out a breath.

Jesus!

For the first time ever, a woman had made him forget he was on duty.

He ran a hand down his face and her lips curved in a gentle smile. 'I think we've still got something, Cross.'

He grabbed her hand and headed for the stairs. "Come on. The quicker we shuffle these lawyers off home, the quicker I can take you out for a drink."

She stopped him at the bottom. "I'm a single mother, Dickson. I need more than a drink."

He blinked, breath coming hard despite the fact he hadn't broken a jog. Her eyes were burning into his, and she was looking at him like a woman who knew exactly what she wanted.

"Last time...I pushed you too hard. You said no, and I didn't see you for ten years."

She reached up and cupped his cheek, her palm soft, warm. She, too, seemed to have forgotten she was working.

"I promise, that won't happen this time."

Heart racing, he tugged her forward and they raced up the stairs, only to give way as a heavily pregnant woman waddled into the restaurant ahead of them. The woman was muttering something to her partner about pecan pie.

Dickson frowned. "What's with all the pregnant women?"

She gave a casual shrug. "I don't know. Must be in the water."

"Good reason to stick to alcohol." He grinned, and wondered how long it would take to grow his hair. "Come on. The quicker we tell Hunter there's nothing happening here tonight, the quicker we're off duty."

"Oh, I don't know about that, detective. I'd say there's a lot happening here tonight."

Her voice was low, husky...sexy, like a soft bourbon sliding down his throat, and suddenly Dickson was jabbing at the elevator button, desperate for even ten seconds alone with her.

When she stepped inside, he was right on her tail.

Mouth dry, blood roaring in his temples, Dickson turned the instant the door closed, put his hands on her waist and backed her into the corner. He crowded her with his body, pressed his lips into her neck and breathed her in. She gasped and he raised his head, smiled at the thought of putting an arch in her back.

"You're right. There is a lot happening here. It's just none of their damn business."

About In Safe Hands by Lee Christine

She thinks she needs him, but she doesn't know the secrets he keeps...

Threatened with the publication of naked photographs taken in her law student days, defence attorney Allegra Greenwood enlists the help of former SAS Commander Luke Neilson, unaware of his involvement in her brother's death in Afghanistan.

In a race to stop the photographs appearing on the Internet, Luke battles a hidden enemy, his growing feelings for Allegra, and his conscience, which demands he protect a fallen comrade's sister. As the stakes increase and more sinister motives unfold, Luke not only has to fight to save her career, he has to fight to save her life.

### Angry Birds and Turtle Doves

Lily Malone

Sydney's hot. Adelaide's hot. And it's getting hot down under the tablecloth.

A story based one year after Seth and Remy solve the problems of love and the universe in So Far Into You, published in 2015 by Escape Publishing.

###  14: Angry Birds and Turtle Doves

Strange, the difference a year makes.

Last time Seth Lasrey sat his backside in Cafe Nix, he'd flirted with the waitress, Tamsin, because she reminded him of Remy. It was something in the way she moved. That same willowy walk. Not exactly like Remy. No one moved like Remy. Remy's walk was easy as water sliding over glass.

That was February last year, when he'd met with Max Montgomery and Montgomery's accountant. They'd all been in Sydney for the Sydney Wine Show where he and Max had signed the deal for Lasrey to buy Montgomery Wines, over a lunch of the best pork belly Seth had ever tasted.

"You always like to see the wine list first, Mr Lasrey, I remember," Tamsin said now, materialising beside him.

"I do, and thank you, but I already know what I want."

She paused, fixing him with green eyes that had probably seen every come-on known to woman or waitress and anticipated one right now: "And what would that be?"

"Pork belly and a bottle of Bowen Estate Cabernet."

"Ah," and her eyes crinkled into a smile that held genuine warmth. "Good for you. Nice choice."

Tamsin eased her way back toward the bar and Seth pulled his phone and earpieces from his satchel. It was just after eight, Cafe Nix gearing up for another busy night. Most of the tables held couples. Some were groups, business meetings he suspected, or tourists. A stuffed koala poked out of an older lady's handbag and the young boy with her had an Australian flag tucked across his thighs.

It would be 7.30pm in Adelaide. They were in the middle of a heatwave there. Remy said last night it was expected to last another two days and she almost sounded disappointed. She loved the heat.

He'd bet she was wearing her shorts right about now. Her shortest shorts. The Jessica Simpson/Daisy Duke denim ones that showed the curve of her arse when she bent over in the garden. Probably in tandem with her purple tank top: the one with material that could have hugged a pencil it clung so damn tight. If she'd been digging or pruning—and she was always digging or slashing at something, or getting him digging or slashing at the tougher stuff—there'd be a darkened purple vee in that sweet valley between her breasts. She'd be hot. Drippy. Sweaty. Remy.

He let his thoughts rest there for a few pleasurable seconds. Then he thought about her boots.

He couldn't picture Remy any other way. He'd lost count of the times in the last year he'd told her she should appear in adverts for Blundstone. It would have solved all her money problems in a heartbeat. Bugger the bank.

A junior waitress, not Tamsin, brought him a bottle of iced water. Seth loosened his tie, tugged it out of his collar, undid the top button, started to feel human.

He put the first of his earpieces in, watching Tamsin pick her way through the tables with his bottle of Bowen. She poured without stopping to let him test it. Another testament to her good memory. He'd never been one for testing wine in a restaurant. There were so many screw caps nowadays, the odds of finding a corked wine were pretty much zero. He didn't like the wank value of it either.

Red wine flowed. Tamsin put the bottle in a Cafe Nix holder, smiled at him, and kept moving.

Seth swirled the liquid, buried his nose in the glass.

He and Max had drunk Bowen Estate last year too. Max had got himself so pissed over lunch he hadn't been able to back-up in time for the Awards dinner that night. Montgomery's winemaker, Lewis Carney, had accepted the trophy for best white wine in show on Max's behalf.

Seth put his other earpiece in. The hum of conversation over cutlery receded. From his seat, he could see Sydney Harbour shining: the bridge lit up like half a lemon alight.

Remy rang at quarter to eight, Adelaide time. On the dot.

"Hey," he said, 'cause he'd forgotten the cool greeting he'd planned the second the screen lit up with her name.

"Hey yourself. How's it going?"

"Hot."

"Not as hot as here. It hit thirty-nine today. The dogs are licking an ice-cream container milk-ice block." She laughed. God he loved her laugh. "Can you hear them?"

Seth listened. A vague canine growling that could have been his stomach came down the phone. He smiled anyway. Remy and those dogs were his life. Two American Staffordshire Terriers: Occhilupo the male, and Breeze, and now their puppy: Judster. Juddy was the last of the six pups they'd had last year. The others had all sold to good homes.

"I miss you," he said. "Next time you have to come with me. You'd love Sydney."

"I'd hate Sydney. I don't even like little old Adelaide. I don't like cities."

"You'd like this restaurant. It has crab."

"I'm so there. When are you taking me, cheapskate?"

He laughed. Loud enough to make the woman with the koala in her bag glance his way. "Don't make me laugh, Rem. People are staring."

"You're probably wearing odd socks."

He inched an ankle out from the table. "Nope."

"I knew you'd check. Three days away from me and you can't even dress yourself with surety. How the mighty Seth Lasrey has fallen."

Softly, because the woman with the koala was checking him out again, he said: "I love you. I miss waking up with you in the morning. I miss listening to you snore. I'm not the same man without you."

"I don't snore."

He smiled. It was so like Remy. He declared undying love and emotion. She talked about odd socks and snoring. Remy's emotions were still shackled somewhere inside that lovely big heart she let slumber in her chest.

It used to bug him. Now he accepted it for what it was. Remy's father was a drunk. He'd died about six years ago in a car accident in Margaret River. She'd grown up listening to him make promises to her mother: that he'd stop drinking, that he'd be a better husband, that he loved her, that he wouldn't gamble anymore, that he'd change...and it never amounted to anything.

She'd told Seth once she'd prefer to show him how much she loved him every day than tell him. Words were cheap. Words didn't mean anything.

He took another sip of his wine.

"So what are you having for dinner?" She asked him.

"Pork belly."

"Gee you have a hard life."

"You're the one who makes it harder."

"Bet I made it hard last night," she said, voice lowering to that sexy purr she did so well.

"I'm not alone in my hotel tonight, Rem. I'm in a crowded restaurant. So we'd better not repeat the experience."

"Are you sure? It sounds like it might be fun. You always said you wanted me to keep your number on my phone sex personal speed dial."

"You wouldn't be so keen to get me all revved up if you laid eyes on the waitress. She walks like you," Seth said, shifting slightly in his chair because even this much suggestion from Remy had his cock stiffening. No wonder she'd been good at her second job.

"You said nobody walks like me."

"Well, she goes close, Rem. She's got hair halfway down to her arse, like you. If I closed my eyes, and she closed her eyes, we could pretend."

"Why does she have to close her eyes?"

"They're green. Only grey eyes work for me these days."

"I think you just drew a line through ninety-five percent of the female population."

"Then it's lucky I got you."

"What about her legs. Are they like mine?"

Seth slowly tracked Tamsin across the restaurant floor. She was leaning over another table, pouring wine. Her tight black skirt crept up her thighs to a backside shaped like a peach.

He stifled a groan. "You have no idea what you're doing to me here, Rem."

"Yes I do."

"You must trust me more than you trust yourself."

"I do. I trust you with my life. That's the only reason I play the game."

"You wait till I get home. You won't walk for a week."

She gave him a giggle filled with promise, then said: "How's the wine show going?"

"It's good. Judging was today. Presentations are tomorrow night."

"I hope Chameleon wins."

"Me too."

Remy's grapevines provided the fruit for Montgomery Wines flagship Adelaide Hills Chameleon Sauvignon Blanc.

"I can't believe you and Rina weren't going to make Chameleon last vintage," she said.

It was a gentle dig and he didn't mind. "That was a different stage of our relationship, Remy Roberts. If you remember, I hated you then. I didn't mind at all the thought of bankrupting you and having you beg me for mercy. On your knees." The lady with the koala glanced at him and he turned away from her, lowered his voice further and said, "with your skirt pulled up over your arse and your knees wide, so I could see your pussy spread for me."

"Hell and Tommy," Remy said, a little breathless. "You are getting good at this."

He felt a jolt of satisfaction and delight. His cock got a jolt of delight too. Not sure about satisfaction. But that was part of what made these phone calls when he was out of town fun, and he would get his own back on the teasing, they both would. Two days from now when he drove into her cottage on Red Gum Valley Road and wrapped her in his arms, because she was everything he wanted.

"Well, if I'm on my knees...you know where that leaves you vulnerable, Seth. You'd be standing before me..."

Jolt. Jolt.

"You'd be hard as a rock. That cock of yours would already be jutting from your pants, just waiting for my mouth to close over it, take you so far in."

Jolt didn't cut it. He had no words to describe what this woman did to him.

A hand touched his shoulder and he spun. It was Tamsin with his pork belly in the crook of her arm, on a wide, white plate.

"Hold on," Seth said to Remy, taking the earpieces out.

"I'm very sorry to interrupt you, Mr Lasrey. Your call looks most important. I didn't want to place the plate and startle you."

"That's fine, Tamsin." He leaned his upper body away, sliding his chair back all of two millimetres because he couldn't risk her seeing the tent in the front of his pants.

A smile curled the waitress's lovely lips. Was it a knowing one? Seth wasn't about to find out. He'd jump off the Sydney Harbour Bridge before he cheated on Remy.

Tamsin put the plate in front of him. "I hope you enjoy your meal."

"Thank you, I will." He'd enjoy making a meal of Remy too, when he got home. Seth put the earpieces back in. "Sorry about that, sweetheart. My pork belly just came."

"Lucky it came before you did."

She chuckled: a happy sound, like a glass jar of bouncing jellybeans. It made him chuckle too. They were quiet for a beat and then she said: "I love you."

Seth stopped laughing. "Our phone calls never ended that way before."

"I know. I'm saying it now."

"I love you, Rem."

"I know. You say it all the time."

And normal service was resumed. "So I'm hanging up now, before you kill my buzz."

"Happy pork belly, Seth. Sleep well."

"Goodnight, Crazy Lady."

Seth unplugged his earpieces and tucked them and his phone in his satchel. The boy at the table with the woman with the koala gave him a grin that was missing two front teeth. "Were you playing Angry Birds, mister?" the kid said.

His mother, or she might have been grandmother, said: "Don't stare, Bradley Randy Bishop. It's rude."

Seth laughed as he picked up his fork. "No mate, I wasn't playing Angry Birds."

"Definitely not Angry Birds," the woman said to him. And she winked. "Turtle Doves maybe."

About So Far Into You

A new Australian vineyard romance from Lily Malone, author of His Brand Of Beautiful and Fairway To Heaven.

Millionaire wine tycoons don't usually go all soft and gooey over love at first sight, but Seth Lasrey wasn't a millionaire when he met Remy. He wasn't a tycoon, either. Not yet. All that would come later.

When she cut her viticulture degree short and moved home, Remy wasn't thinking about anything more than making the next dollar in her pocket. Working two jobs to keep food on the table and a loan shark from the door, Remy and her mother are slowly building a life together. Then a freak storm rips apart the Margaret River Wine Festival, and Seth and Remy's worlds collide.

He's old money. She is no money.

He's the boss. She's his employee.

Together they are so far wrong, it can't ever be right.

But when love runs you off the track, how far would you go to get a second chance?

### Christmas Wishes Do Come True

Rhian Cahill

This is a story about what happens to men who agree to wear tights. It's all good.

###  15: Christmas Wishes Do Come True

Dean looked down and groaned. What the hell was his wife thinking? There was no way he could go out in public dressed like this. The thought made him smile. He remembered another occasion when his wife had tried to get him to wear a highly inappropriate costume. Of course they weren't married back then, but the memory triggered all kinds of nostalgia along with some seriously X-rated thoughts.

"Dean?"

Speaking of his wife... "Yeah."

"Are you dressed?"

He glanced down again. "Well...that depends on your definition of dressed."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Let's just say I think we've done this before." Dean reached over and opened the bathroom door just enough for Talli to slip inside. "Get in here and you'll see."

She'd barely gotten through the door when the laughter started.

Frowning, he said, "I'm not sure I see the funny side of this."

Talli got her amusement under control. "Okay."

He could see her mind working.

"I'm sure if you—"

"Oh no." He shook his head. "I'm not going out in public dressed like this."

Dean folded his arms over his chest and anchored his feet shoulder-width apart while Talli eyed him up and down. That glance may as well have been a physical touch. what with the way his body reacted to it.

"Dammit Talli! Stop looking at me like that."

A grin split her face as her gaze locked on his groin. "Are you commando?"

"Gggrrr..."

She held up her hands. "I'm just asking."

"Well don't." Dean took a deep breath and tried to rein in his runaway libido. "I'm pretty sure you don't want to find yourself facing the wall with me driving into you from behind."

Talli sucked in a breath and shuddered. Her nipples beaded beneath her Wonder Woman top and her tongue snuck out to lick across her bottom lip.

"Talli," he growled. She wasn't helping him stay in control.

Not that it surprised him. In the years since they'd finally realised they were more than best friends, Talli had done her level best to drive him insane with lust every second. Without trying. Just by breathing. Some days he wondered if his unrelenting lust for Talli would be the death of him.

"You need to leave." He put his hand on the doorknob. "Now."

"Na-huh." She took a step closer. "You can't make an offer like that and not follow through."

He was lost. Had no clue what she was talking about. But then she turned around and put her hands on the wall and he was lost in a completely different way. "Fuck!"

"Not yet..." The little minx glanced over her shoulder with a sexy invitation in her eyes. "But hopefully sooner rather than later."

"Talli." Her name was half groan, half plea.

She wiggled her arse enticingly. "Dean."

He was on her in a heartbeat, his arms wrapped around her waist, his hands palming her breasts. Talli flinched, a breath sucking through her lips. Dean let her go and put his hands on the wall beside her, caging her in. "Did I hurt you?" He'd been too rough.

"No." She was shaking her head and turning around to face him. "I'm just a little sensitive."

Alarm bells went off in his head. The look on her face—in her eyes—had every nerve standing up like he'd taken a jolt of electricity to his system. "Sensitive?" He glanced down at her chest.

Her breasts looked bigger but he assumed it was the costume she wore... Or not.

His gaze connected with hers. "Talli." Her name left his lips on a strangled breath.

She was grinning now.

"Why are we wearing superhero costumes?" God he knew. He so knew but his brain was short-circuiting with the thought rolling round it.

Talli laid her hands on his chest. "Because every child needs a superhero for a parent."

Dean's heart just about beat right through his breastbone and into her hands. Kind of appropriate when she was the one that held his heart. "Are you saying...?" He couldn't finish.

She licked her lips, the swipe of pink tongue over plump red flesh sent an arrow of need through his balls. "It looks like our wish is finally coming true."

"Oh my God." He scooped her into his arms, buried his face in the side of her neck. "Are you sure?" Please let this be real.

They tried for so long. Had three false starts and now...

"The doctor confirmed it today. We've got an appointment next week for a scan."

"When?"

She laughed. "Well, I'm not one hundred percent sure, but I do know when the deed was done."

Dean raised his head to look at her. "Huh?"

"Remember at Christmas when we did our wishes then made love under the tree?"

He nodded.

"I didn't say anything, 'cause I didn't want to jinx anything, but all the charts said I was ovulating on the twenty-fifth."

"A Christmas baby?"

Talli smiled. "Yep."

"Let's go home." Dean grabbed Talli's hand and turned to the door, only to be brought up short when she yanked on his hold.

"Dean."

Turning to face her, he said, "What?"

"We can't."

"Why not?" He swept his hand down the front of his body. "I'm certainly not going to the party in this outfit." There was no hiding the boner he had for his wife in the too tight Superman costume.

"Then put your other clothes back on. I'll get changed too. We won't go in costume but we are going. I promised Em we'd be there."

Dean scrubbed a hand down his face. All he wanted to do was take his wife home and strip her naked so he could check her out. He'd stupidly not be paying attention if he hadn't seen the changes the baby was making to her body. "You don't have a belly yet?" He stared at her midsection. The Wonder Woman costume gave her nowhere to hide a baby bump.

"No. Not yet. The only change is in my boobs. I think they're two sizes bigger."

So not something she should tell him now while they were in the bathroom of a harbourside cafe. "Ah...you probably should have kept that to yourself for now..."

She grabbed his arms. "Speaking of that. We can't tell anyone."

"What? Why not?"

"I want to be sure before we tell people."

His gut clenched, his lungs seized. "I thought you said the doctor confirmed it."

"He did. But I still want to wait a bit longer to make an announcement."

He breathed easier. "Okay. We can do that."

"Thank you." She stood on her toes and kissed him.

Dean smiled. She still didn't get that he'd do whatever the hell she asked him to. "Let's get changed so we can make an appearance at this party and then leave."

"We've got to wait for everyone to get here first." Talli opened the door. "Wade and Em are here but Vee, Brent, Morgan and Jen are running late. Which is good because I'm starving and don't think I can wait until we get to the party to eat."

Before he could say a word she was gone, the door snapping shut behind her. He shook his head and quickly stripped out of the Superman costume. Back in his clothes, Dean shoved the outfit into the bag Talli had given him before pushing him into the bathroom earlier. Talk about déjà vu.

With a grin on his face Dean left the bathroom and heading into the cafe. He spotted their friends, Wade and Em, along with his wife, and wove his way through the tables.

"How's it going?" he asked as he pulled out a chair.

"We're pregnant!"

At first Dean though Talli had blurted out their news but then he realised Wade had been the one to utter the words. Dean sat in stunned silence for all of a second before he laughed so hard his sides hurt. Beside him Talli appeared to be in a similar start of hilarity.

Em eyed each of them. "I'm not sure I see what's funny..."

Talli pulled herself together and reached across the table to take Em's hand in hers. "I'm so thrilled for you both."

"Number three. Congrats man." Dean shook Wade's hand.

"It's early days and we weren't supposed to say anything yet." Em gave Wade a dirty look.

Dean looked at Talli. Raised one eyebrow.

She sighed. "Okay. Fine."

He grinned and turned his gaze towards their friends. "So when are you due?"

"October first."

Talli choked beside him.

"Hey. You okay?" Dean rubbed her back and reached for a glass of water, offering it to her.

She nodded and took a sip. "Um, so, a Christmas baby then?"

A light bulb went on in Dean's head. No way. "You're kidding?" He looked at Talli.

She grinned. "Looks like we're not the only ones getting our Christmas wishes this year."

Dean and Talli first appeared in Christmas Wishes, one of Escape Publishing's seasonal releases.

About Christmas Wishes

This Christmas, Santa is granting wishes these two friends never knew they had

Helping his best friend photograph a bunch of hyperactive kids is suddenly the least of Dean Hall's problems when he sees the costume Talli wants him to wear. No guy in his right mind wants to be seen in a pair of tights.

Talli Jarmen isn't above a little subterfuge when she's desperate for help. But getting Dean's assistance proves to be more than she bargained for when she sees him decked out in the naughtiest Christmas costume she's ever laid eyes on. She's never thought about Dean that way, but seeing him practically naked has her questioning their 'friends only' status. But wanting more is dangerous. Are they willing to risk all they have for what could be?

### Risqué Business

Amy Andrews

Risky becomes risqué when late night cravings for double-chocolate pecan pie lead to cravings of the carnal variety for a pregnant Samantha and an ever patient Nick.

Risqué Business is an epilogue featuring Samantha and Nick from Risky Business, published in July 2014 by Escape Publishing.

###  16: Risqué Business

Samantha needed double-chocolate pecan pie with extra cream and ice-cream bad. She needed it now. Right now. It didn't matter that it was ten o'clock at night. Or that they'd had to leave the cool comfort of their air-conditioned hotel room to brave the fifteen minute walk in the oppressively sultry Sydney night.

Only the pie mattered.

Hell, she needed it so desperately she practically levitated across the floor of Cafe Nix to get to the refrigerated display case—no mean feat with two tiny human beings residing inside her.

"Oh, thank God you're still open," she said to Nix, the petite, curly-haired woman behind the counter. "You're a life saver."

Nix had served her pecan pie for the last three days. Nix was a goddess.

"Open till eleven every night," Nix said. "Let me guess, you want double-chocolate pecan pie, right?"

"The babies want it," Nick corrected, his big warm hand gliding onto Sam's shoulder. There was humour in his sleepy sounding voice as he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze and she leaned back into him.

Nix smiled at him then glanced at Sam. "Demanding little critters, aren't they?"

Sam ran a hand over her up-sized six-month bump. "You have no idea."

"Well, you're in luck, there's one piece left."

Sam's salivary glands went into a frenzy as she spied the piece in question through the cool, curved glass. "Excellent."

"You want some coffee?"

"Can't," Sam said, patting her belly. She hadn't had coffee for six months and she missed it like a long-lost friend but right now all she cared about was the pie. Why wasn't it already on a plate?

Nix glanced at Nick. "You look like you could do with a little caffeine charge?"

He nodded. "I'll have a double shot of espresso."

And in under minute they had both and were sitting down at the nearest table. Sam, her mouth awash with saliva, attacked the sweet treat. "Oh God yes," she groaned, shutting her eyes as it hit her tastebuds and flooded her mouth with sweet, sticky, crunchy bliss. It was almost a shame to swallow.

Almost.

"Just what I needed," she sighed, opening her eyes again to find Nick staring at her mouth. In that way of his. Like he wanted to taste her. Maybe make her groan for an entirely different reason. Something squirmed deep and low inside her. And it wasn't a baby for a change. Her pulse did a funny little jitterbug.

He looked so damn sexy tonight in his faded blue jeans and dark grey tee, his hair all shaggy and finger-combed, his lovely, hard jaw all covered in scruff. She wondered what his lips would taste like smeared in double-chocolate pecan pie. The squirmy thing happened again. A tingly thing joined it. A little heat got added to the mix.

Ooh. She remembered this feeling.

Surprising considering how damn long it had been.

Sam's stomach rumbled loudly and the urge that had hauled her out of bed to seek pie returned. The urge that must be obeyed. She dragged her eyes off her sexy husband and shoved another spoonful into her mouth. She offered him the second spoon Nix had thoughtfully provided. "Are you hungry?"

His gaze dropped to the swell of her impressive pregnant cleavage in her form fitting, button-up blouse. "Not for food I'm not."

Her nipples responded to the blatant desire in his eyes.

It hurt a little. In a good way.

"I'm sorry," she said returning her attention to the pie as her blood sugar surged to a dizzying high.

"What for?"

"For waking you up to get pie," she said around her mouthful. "You've been up at the crack of dawn the last three days and have to be back at the studio in six hours."

"I don't mind," he said, his gaze drifting to her mouth again. "Watching you eat pie is worth it."

Sam scooped up another spoonful and ate it. "Also for being a vomiting, moody, exhausted, wrung-out wreck for the last six months."

He smiled. "I hadn't noticed."

"And for the cravings." She popped more pie into her mouth, swiping at the cream and crumbs on her lips. "When do you think they're going to stop?"

His gaze followed the flicker of her tongue intently and the jitterbug became a tap dance. Sam did it a little longer than necessary just to watch the flare of his nostrils.

"Well the book says—"

"I hate that book," she interrupted, stabbing the pie with her spoon this time and viciously hacking through the bottom crust with it. "It was probably written by a man."

He chuckled as she tossed the mangled piece down her throat. "Pretty sure Jenny Dowling is a woman."

Sam snorted. "I bet it's a pseudonym. I bet Jenny's really a man. No woman would write as your womb flowers with the gift of life, take the time to cherish the changes in your body."

"Maybe not. But whoever wrote it was spot on." Nick openly leered at her breasts. "I'm sure as hell taking the time to cherish the changes."

"Oh yes," she said, eating the second last spoonful of pie, "lank hair, puffy fingers and ankles, varicose veins, aching back, sore feet, great big belly and huge boobs."

"You really don't have any idea how sexy you are, do you, Samantha Hawke?" Nick said. "Particularly your boobs. I freaking love your boobs."

He looked at them like he wanted to smear the last morsel of pie all over them and Sam's belly flopped. Her nipples hardened again, begging for a little pie action. Lordy, she loved how he loved them. Or she used to anyway, back before pregnancy had rendered her asexual. She sighed. "I'm sorry 'bout the no sex thing, too."

He slid his hand on top of hers and squeezed. "It's fine. You're having a baby—two babies. You've only just stopped puking. You're doing all the hard yards. A little bit of abstinence isn't going to kill me. Now," he leaned forward and picked up the last bit of pie and presented it to her mouth, nudging it against her lips. "Eat."

Sam's gaze locked with Nick's as she opened up and let him push the sticky sweetness into her mouth. His finger lingered and she swirled her tongue around it, removing every chocolaty trace. His finger slid slowly from her mouth with a very wet sounding phfft.

The phfft kicked her hard in the all the places that had been phfft resistant for a lot of months now.

Well, hello there, libido.

Maybe not so asexual after all.

Maybe it was the sugar rush. Or maybe she was finally getting to that horny stage the stupid book had promised. Whatever. Suddenly she was craving Nick more than pie. He was looking at her mouth again and she was most definitely looking at his, remembering all the wicked things he could do with it. Her breath sat thick in her throat and heavy in her chest, and she could hear Nick's had roughened too.

Sam wondered if anyone would object to her pashing her ever patient, insanely sexy husband in the middle of a coffee shop. Like, indecently pashing him. Maybe sitting on his lap and squirming around a little. Straddling him even?

But of course, she needed to pee. When didn't she need to pee? "I...have to—"

Nick chuckled and sat back. "Pee?"

Sam grimaced. He knew her so well. God, where had all the romance gone? "I won't be long," she said, grabbing her bag as she stood.

He grinned. "Take your time. I'm just going to be checking out your butt as you walk away."

She laughed and shook her head. "You are a pervert."

Nick watched the swing of his wife's very fine butt in her straight black skirt as she headed for the toilets, grateful for a little time-out to rid himself of the massive erection she'd provoked as she'd scraped her teeth along the pad of his index finger. It had been a long time between drinks, but if he wasn't very much mistaken he was about to get really lucky.

If he played his cards right.

Keeping his hands off Sam these last months had been the hardest thing he'd ever done—base jumping was easy by comparison—especially as her body had flowered into a level of sexiness he'd never anticipated. Who'd have thought pregnant women could be so damn erotic? But her back-off signals had been loud and clear and her moods...well, she hadn't been entirely rational for some months.

But he hadn't mistaken the desire he'd seen in her eyes just now. Maybe things were turning a corner?

His mobile vibrated against the table and Nick looked at his phone. It was a text from Sam. His pulse picked up. Fuck. Was she stuck on the loo? Had she gone into labour? Had her waters broken? He opened the message.

Hey pervert. Come and do me.

Nick blinked at the message, stunned for a couple of seconds. Then he grinned. No hope for his erection now. His thumbs flew across the keyboard. You want me to *do you* in a toilet stall?

Five seconds after he hit send his phone buzzed again.

Have you had any better offers in the last six months?

Nick chuckled. Hell no. We have a perfectly decent, air-conned hotel room with a massive bed fifteen minutes away. Finish your business and I'll do you there.

A minute passed without a reply and Nick felt a kick of anticipation. She'd obviously considered her aching back and was washing her hands. He just hoped she'd hurry. But his phone vibrated again and a selfie of Sam with no shirt or bra and her bare naked breasts appeared on the screen.

Fuck.

His erection went from hard to rampant.

Me and my boobs are in the mood *now*. It's taken us six months to get there. Not sure how fleeting it will be. You want to risk it?

Nick stood abruptly. She made a very good point—Sam's moods could change on a dime. He shoved his phone in his back pocket and headed for the toilets. He reached the door displaying the universal symbol for female and looked briefly around. Thankfully there were only a few tables occupied at this late hour and no one was looking at him.

Nix was, though. He caught her eye as he placed his hand on the door. She cocked an eyebrow at him. He shrugged helplessly—please just let me have this one time. She grinned and winked and turned away and Nick didn't need any more encouragement.

There were five cubicle doors and they were all closed when he slipped in through the swing door. "Sam?" he whispered.

The door down the very end opened and she stuck her head out, her long brown hair brushing very naked shoulders. "In here," she whispered back.

Nick's pulse thumped hard as anticipation zapped through his system. He covered the distance in three long strides, slipping into the cubicle. Samantha was still in her skirt, the waist riding low, but her upper body was completely naked. Her breasts were ripe and full, the nipples darker than they used to be and the swell of her belly where his babies sheltered was sexy in ways he'd never imagined.

"Jesus," he whispered, his eyes glued to her nudity as the door shut after him, and he blindly reached over to turn the lock to occupied while his other hand slid around her non-existent waist. "You're gorgeous."

She blushed. Actually blushed. "Don't," she said, her voice low. "I'm sorry I'm not less..." She looked down at herself. "I feel big and...ungainly. And unattractive. And I've still got three months to go." She looked at her breasts. "I feel like a cow." She slid her hand onto her stomach. "Like a...dog about to whelp puppies. Like a—"

"Samantha," Nick interrupted, cutting her off, easing her back against the wall as he grabbed her hand and shoved it roughly against the iron rod behind the zipper of his jeans. "That's what you do to me. Now shut up and kiss me."

Samantha didn't have time to think or refute as her bare back was pressed into the cool wall and Nick's mouth landed on hers, sweeping her away on a tide of lust and longing. How she managed to stay upright was a complete mystery.

"God," she moaned against his mouth as the smell of him filled her up—the hotel soap on his skin and the espresso on his breath. "You taste like coffee."

Man, she missed coffee.

He sucked in a rough breath. "You taste like my wife," he muttered, his lips close, brushing hers with every word. "Like my Samantha."

And then he was kissing her again, long and deep and wet, and his hands were all over her, brushing her nipples and rucking up her skirt as hers sought and gained entry to his jeans, reaching for the long, hard length of him. He groaned when her hand closed around his girth and Sam's head spun as she familiarised herself with every inch of him.

But it wasn't enough. She needed him inside her.

"In me," she panted, tearing her lips away from his. "Now."

"Wait. Just let me..." His fingers breached the lacy edge of her underwear, sweeping it aside, sinking into all the slick heat between her legs, seeking the place that he knew so well.

"No," she gasped as he stroked her in just the right spot, everything deep and low twinging deliciously. If he did that she'd be coming in ten seconds flat and after six months of abstinence she needed to feel him inside her more. "Later," she muttered, grabbing his hand. "After. At the hotel. Help me up."

How Nick managed it standing in a confined space with the added complication of her belly, Sam didn't know. Hell, she didn't care. All she knew was her feet suddenly weren't touching the ground, her legs were wrapped around his waist, her hands were wrapped around his biceps and only her head and shoulders were in contact with the wall. And then, as the thick, blunt nudge of him prodded for entry, nothing else mattered. Only the hard delicious thrust of him. The slide and the pound and the shove of him. The in and the out of him. The tremble and the quiver and the build of him.

The shiver and the shake.

Of both of them.

"God, you're magnificent," he gasped as he plunged in and out and Sam opened her eyes and looked down at herself, seeing what he saw. Her, practically naked to his fully clothed. Her breasts bouncing, her nipples hard tight points, her hair brushing her shoulders with each buck of his hips.

It was powerful and sexy. She was powerful and sexy.

It was over embarrassingly quickly for both of them. Building in minutes, shattering in seconds, flying for what felt like eternity through the hard, brilliant eye of it, then coasting in the long cool bliss of recovery.

"That'll be nine dollars and sixty cents," Nix said, with just the right amount of professionalism as she rang up the bill.

Nick handed over a fifty. "Keep the change."

She smiled slightly as she took the very generous tip. "I trust you and your good wife enjoyed your...time with us tonight, sir."

Nick grinned. "It was highly memorable."

"Here at cafe Nix we aim to please."

"In that case, you do it well."

"Nick?" He turned slightly as Sam approached from behind, her hand sliding onto his butt and squeezing as she smiled at Nix and said, "Thanks for your hospitality these last three days. I'll never forget this place."

"Thank you," Nix said politely, but Nick could see the merriment in her eyes. "Any plans for the rest of the evening?" she asked Sam, her face a picture of innocence.

Sam smiled. "Oh yes," she said, glancing up at Nick, her eyes telling him that round two was in the offing.

"Really?" Nix cooed. "That sounds intrigu—"

"Okay," he interrupted, not in the mood for chitchat as he grabbed Sam's hand. "Gotta go."

Nix laughed. "You don't want a receipt?" she asked.

But Nick didn't hear her. He only had eyes and ears for Sam.

And he intended to put them both to very good use for as long as her mood held.

Sam and Nick's story is told in the quirky, urban-family, rom-com Risky Business by Amy Andrews

Samantha Evans's life is going to hell. Not only has she rage-quit her beloved high-powered job, but she is suddenly afflicted by hormones, free time, and an unavoidable, unignorable, undeniably gorgeous irritant in the form of Nick Hawke, her extreme sports star neighbour, who has come home to take over the reins of his grandmother's second-hand bookshop. Sam needs something to keep her from begging for her old job back until she's good and sure her boss understands how wrong he was, and taking a low-risk, low-stress job helping Nick at the bookstore might be just the thing.

After all, it's not like Nick is the right guy to help her with her hormones. He'll just be fun to look at while she searches for the one.

Nick has six months to get over an injury before Everest and a big, fat contract beckons. That means no sports, no danger and, above all else, no risks. It means playing it safe. And Nick Hawke doesn't do safe. So he's going to need something to stave off the boredom while selling books he doesn't read to people who wouldn't know a carabineer from a crochet hook. What could be safer than hiring a cranky, unemployed accountant to help run the bookstore? Sam is efficient and methodical and messing up her neat, post-it note world could be a fun way to pass the time...

Risky Business mixes the classic romance of Philadelphia Story, the humour and wit of When Harry Met Sally, and a strong, contemporary Australian setting to create a delightful, irresistible, utterly satisfying treat of a novel.

###  17: The Close

Hell day was kicking and screaming to its very end and Nix would be grateful to see the back of it. Her head thumped and her feet ached and no amount of reapplied lipstick made her feel brighter.

Maybe it was the fact that the cafe had turned into pregnancy central and virtually overflowed with waddling women and adoring men. It was lovely to pop champagne for Kate who used the bathroom to do a test, but it was oddly distressing to turn a deliberately blind eye to the expecting any minute now couple who had dessert and topped it off with loud sex in the empty ladies room.

Right through the day, she'd worn her job like a superhero outfit. She was Nix the Extraordinary, the Hostess with the Mostest, while she stood in the public areas of the cafe, capable of smiles and well wishes, banter with regulars like cheeky Dillon and his socially awkward friend, Mace. But she'd be Nix the Hysterical, a depressed limp noodle, once she made it home.

She couldn't cry her eyes out over Linc until the lawyers packed it in, and their security detail cleared out, until the last stragglers making eyes at each other over coffee after the theatre or because they simply couldn't bear to part for the night yet, took off. She couldn't let her shoulders slump or her expression sour until the kitchen was cleaned and readied and the tables reset for breakfast again, until she was safely inside the front door of her rented flat.

With the click of that lock she'd become the anti-hero: Nix the Messed Up, Nix the Ambition Ruined My Romance, Nix the Worried About Dad. Nix the Will Regret Linc For The Rest of My Life.

To think a stray cat started them, and the catty backchat of some perky princess whose pussy Linc played with on the side had finished them. To think she'd thought he was a better man than that.

"Nix, phone." Ramon waggled the cordless handset at her. If it was Linc, she didn't want to speak to him. "It's Steven." She rushed across the room to take it. It was too late for Dad to be up.

"Dad, what's wrong?"

"Nichole Sutherland, how many covers did you do today, quick, tell me."

"Are you sick? Why are you ringing me?"

"Are you deaf? I feel a little better, less nauseous. But I can't sleep. How many covers?"

She sighed. "You're not supposed to be worried about covers or anything to do with the cafe. I told you I've got this."

"Actually, Nix, Pumpkin, that's what I'm worried about."

At the doorway, the big burly plain-clothed cop gave her a wave. That meant all the lawyers were gone. Most of the night he'd had trouble keeping his eyes off his attractive partner. Or was she imagining it, seeing romance everywhere because she was abruptly without it? "You don't trust me."

"I trust you, but I don't want you making the wrong decision."

"And what's the wrong decision, Dad?"

"The one that makes you unhappy."

"I'm happy."

"Nix."

"I'm happy. I'd be happier if you weren't sick, if we could be more certain about your recovery and you never called me Pumpkin again."

Steven laughed. "I'll second that. The cafe was my life, especially after your mum died, but we're not the same people, you and me, and I only want for you whatever it is that will make you happiest."

"This place makes me happy."

At the door, Tamsin waved. She'd had an interesting day. She was leaving at the same time as Ramon and Wayan, but there was clearly a new man in her life, a very flamboyant, take charge man.

"You can always open another cafe."

Outside Sydney still sparkled, still entrancing. Across from the cafe, a large cruise ship had docked, lit up like a birthday cake. That meant tomorrow there'd be more tourists wanting to soak up the atmosphere. "It wouldn't be the same."

"What does you staying mean for you and Linc?"

It meant tears pricking behind her eyes, a ball of emotion stuck in her throat. "We broke up, Dad."

"Oh sweetheart."

She thought about Seth Lasrey, the customer who knew his wine; he'd flirted on his phone with someone the whole time he'd been eating his pork belly. "Long distance relationships never work out."

"I thought—"

"Dad, it's been a really long day, we had the function room going as well. I'm glad you feel better, but can we talk about this later?"

"I feel well enough to come in for a meal tomorrow, how about that?"

Nix smiled. "You do?" That was wonderful news. "On the house."

Steven laughed. "Remind me to tell you how that's supposed to work."

She rang off laughing, her step lighter, even carrying the weight of despair that only a good long cry was going to cure. When she looked up she was alone and Henry Jesus was standing at the door with a straggly bunch of flowers in his hand.

She collected the takeaway container with a serving of roast beef and vegetables she'd put aside for him, gave it two minutes in the microwave and went to the door.

"Hello again. I saved you dinner, if you'd like it?"

Henry Jesus looked at the plastic box in her hands and thrust the flowers at her. "I picked these for you."

"That's very kind of you." She took the flowers. A flowerbed in the Botanical Gardens was looking less well cared for tonight. But the man didn't reach for the food.

"Where is the old man who runs this place?"

"That's my dad and he's sick. I'm running the cafe now. My name is Nix." She pointed to the tasteful neon sign above their heads. "That's me."

"My name is Henry, but sometimes I have other names."

Under the grime on Henry's skin was a handsome face. Something terrible had happened to leave him this way. "Are you hungry? The roast is good, and tomorrow we can make you breakfast."

He took the container from her outstretched hand. She'd taped a paper serviette and plastic cutlery to the lid. "Sometimes I get angry. I banged on your door. Sometimes I get sad."

"That's okay. Sometimes I get angry too and tonight I'm feeling sad."

Henry quirked his head, canting it at a rakish angle while he studied her. "Everything will work out in the end."

"I hope you're right."

She watched him back away, holding the container to his nose and smiling. Hell day was finally done. She moved back inside, letting the door close behind her. All she had to do was put Henry's raggedy flowers in a vase, turn the lights off, pick up her bag and lock up.

While she rumbled for her keys, there was a knock at the door. With the lights off, all she could see was a shadowy figure trying to peer through the glass. If Henry wanted coffee with his roast he was all out of luck.

She'd turned on the overhead light opened the door and said his name before she realised it wasn't Henry.

"Jesus, you scared me."

Linc took a step back, blinking against the flood of light, and put his hands up. "I'm sorry, Nix. I didn't mean—"

Linc was here. How was Linc here? "I couldn't see and I thought you were Henry."

"Henry?"

"He's a homeless man we feed sometimes."

"Still picking up strays." Linc dropped his hands and smiled and it went straight to her knees and made them feel like sand. "Hi," he said.

No, not hi in that voice that was all soothing and warm. He couldn't just show up. He lived in Melbourne for goodness sake. "What are you doing here?" He was with someone else, he was an estúpido cheating bastardo.

"I needed to see you."

"Really?"

He frowned. "Nix, you sobbed on the phone. I pushed you, I shouldn't have done that. You've got enough to worry about, but I'm walking around like my fur is all rubbed the wrong way. I miss you."

"What about that other pussy?" The one who he now preferred.

He pushed his hand through his hair. "What? I left Jenny in charge of the practice for a few days."

"You could've called like a normal person instead of flying here unannounced." She should turn the light out and close the door on him, shut herself inside till he went away. "I don't want to see you."

"I lost my phone. I was going to call you from the airport but I didn't have it and—" His mouth opened, he stared at her, shock in his blue eyes. "You don't want to see me?"

"You can go back to whoever she is. You don't have to worry about me." She stepped back, both hands on the door to close it. She was half a dozen heartbeats off bawling.

"Nix, can I come in? What are you talking about?"

"No, you can't come in."

He put his hand on the door to hold it open. "What's happening here?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

He blew out a breath. "The woman I love isn't with me. She had to move away and what she's doing is important to her, maybe more important to her than I am, and I'm not coping very well with that. I don't sleep properly without her in bed with me. Nix, I love you. I miss you. I want to fix what happened last night and sort out the future."

She'd watched tearful, anxious, sunburnt, happy, flirty, expectant, sexy couples all day. She'd had two lots of cops on the premises; a close call with a woman going into labour, canoodling and banging sex. Linc wasn't going to get to see her cry.

"Start with what happened today."

He closed his eyes. "I don't understand, but all right." He pinned her with his best trust me I'm a vet look. "I desexed six kittens, removed a piece of glass from Tyrion the terrier's paw, went on a house call to see a sick Great Dane. An hour out of town, that was a head spin. There was a house party going on and the dog had eaten someone's drugs, I had to get him to vomit. I think he'll be okay. I took a call from there for the stables."

He palmed his face. "My phone. That must be where my phone is. Oh God. That explains the odd posts on practice's Facebook page. A client rang to complain about—"

"You left your phone at a house party."

He sighed. "Apparently, damn it."

"You don't have another girlfriend?"

"A what?" He almost shouted it. "Are you serious? Nix."

"Oh Linc. I thought—"

"I put the practice up for sale. That's what I did after the stables, before I booked a flight. I went back to the office and I called a broker. You need to be in Sydney. I need to be with you. That's all there is to it."

"It can't be that easy." Her voice broke, cracked like a dropped plate. "I, I've been lying to you about how much I wanted to keep the cafe and stay in Sydney. I never wanted to sell it, not really."

He pushed the door and she took her hands away and let it open. "I know. I get it," he said. "I hoped you'd be able to tell me straight, but I know why it was hard. I don't want things to be difficult between us."

He looked so good. He looked like heaven. She couldn't decide between bursting into tears or throwing herself at him. "This is selfish. How can you be okay with this? I could've opened a cafe in Melbourne."

"Like this?" He glanced over his shoulder at the bridge. "No way. I love my hometown, but this is Sydney Harbour, most beautiful city in the world, and Cafe Nix is part of the magic. It's you, and you're beautiful and magic too. Did you really think I wouldn't understand that?"

She barely got the words, "I don't deserve you," out past lips made from gelatine.

"You do. And I love you so much. But you're dead on your feet." He glanced at his watch. "And you have to be back here again in less than six hours.

She reached for his hand and they clasped. "I'm going to hire a new manager."

"Good. I'm going to get a job in Sydney and I'm going to hug you now."

And he did, under the Cafe Nix awning in the shade of the sleepy city.

And when he kissed her, gently so not to spook her, urgently to remind her of who they were to each other, Nix knew hell days were over, and Henry, sometimes Lance, sometimes Bill, sometimes Jesus, was right, everything would work out in the end.
About the Authors

In order of appearance

Elizabeth Dunk

Elizabeth Dunk is the contemporary and erotica writing alias of Nicole Murphy. She likes sassy, sexy heroines who challenge and enthral the men they meet. Elizabeth is the author of Release—four erotic novellas about four sexy spirits who are determined the women they meet and save have a fantastic time in the process!

Juanita Kees

Juanita graduated from the Australian College QED, Bondi with a diploma in Proofreading, Editing and Publishing, and achieved her dream of becoming a published author in 2012 with the release of her debut romantic suspense, Fly Away Peta. Under the Hood followed in 2013 as one of the first releases from Harlequin's digital pioneer, Escape Publishing. She escapes the real world to write stories starring spirited heroines who give the hero a run for his money before giving in.

Sandra Antonelli

Sandra writes quirky romance novels for grown-ups & smart arses, which, despite the grown-up bit, means she has a juvenile sense of humour and a penchant for wisecracks. She was raised in Europe, the USA, and Australia. She is skilled at folding fitted sheets, excels at Trivial Pursuit, and adores peanut butter, coffee, and rat terriers.

Jane O'Reilly

Jane O'Reilly started writing as an antidote to kids' TV. Her first novel was set in her old school and involved a ghost and lots of death. It's unpublished, which is probably for the best. Then she discovered contemporary romance, and that, as they say, was that. Find her at www.janeoreilly.com and on Twitter as @janeoreilly.

Nicole Flockton

Nicole Flockton writes sexy contemporary romances, seducing you one kiss at a time as you turn the pages. She enjoys taking two characters and creating unique situations for them.

Apart from writing, Nicole is busy looking after her very own hero—her wonderfully supportive husband—and two fabulous kids. She also enjoys watching sports and, of course, reading.

Cate Ellink

Cate Ellink writes erotic adventures like The Virginity Mission, Secret Confessions: Sydney Housewives—Lana, and Deep Diving. She lives near the beach in NSW, Australia. You can find out more at: www.cateellink.com.

Ros Baxter

Ros writes fresh, funny, genre-busting fiction. She digs feisty heroines, good friends, quirky families, heroes to make you sigh and tingle, and a dash of fantasy from time to time.

Ros lives in Brisbane, Australia, with her husband Blair, four small but very opinionated children, a neurotic dog and nine billion germs.

You can email Ros at rosbaxterink@gmail.com or find her at www.facebook.com/RosBaxterInk, on twitter @RosBaxter, or www.rosbaxterink.com.

Jenny Schwartz

Jenny Schwartz is an Australian contemporary romance author with a degree in Sociology and History—people-watching and digging into the past. Fortunately her curiosity about everything hasn't killed her yet!

Ainslie Paton

Ainslie Paton is a corporate storyteller working in marketing, public relations and advertising.

She's written about everything from the African refugee crisis and Toxic Shock Syndrome, to high-speed data networks and hamburgers, but writing contemporary romance is much more fun.

She also writes darker, crazier contemporaries as AA Paton. For a walk on the wilder side see www.TheBlissKing.com.

Ainslie lives in Sydney, Australia, not far from the beach, blogs at: www.ainsliepaton.com.au and tweets from @AinsliePaton.

Jennie Jones

Jennie Jones writes contemporary stories with romance and humour at heart.

Lee Christine

Lee Christine is an Australian author who writes fast-paced, gritty, urban romantic suspense novels. Her first book, In Safe Hands, was a multi-award winning novel as an unpublished manuscript, including First Place in the Silicon Valley Gotcha Contest, First Place in the Smoky Mountains Laurie Award and First Place in the East Texas Southern Heat. In 2012, In Safe Hands was chosen as a launch title for Escape Publishing. Lee loves family, travelling to new places, good food and wine. She also loves music with a passion and plays the alto saxophone.

Lily Malone

Lily Malone would have been a painter, except her son put a golf club through her canvas. So she wrote His Brand Of Beautiful instead. Since then she's written Fairway To Heaven, and the latest, So Far Into You, for Escape Publishing. You can visit Lily at www.lilymalone.wordpress.com.

Rhian Cahill

Rhian Cahill is the alter ego of a stay-at-home mother of four. With motherly duties rapidly dwindling, Rhian is able to make use of the fertile imagination that kept her sane during those years of slavery. Years living overseas and visiting tropical climates have helped inspire some steamy stories. Multi-published in erotic romance, Rhian, with the help of Mr. Muse, spends her days and nights writing.

When not glued to the keyboard you'll find her, book in hand, avoiding any and all housework as much as possible.

Amy Andrews

Multi-award winning, USA Today bestselling author Amy Andrews is an Aussie who has written fifty romances from novellas to category to single-title in both the traditional and digital markets for a variety of publishers. Her first love is steamy contemporary romance that makes her readers tingle, laugh and sigh. She loves good books, fab food, great wine and frequent travel—preferably all four together.

You can like her on Facebook, follow her on twitter @AmyAndrewsbooks and sign up to her newsletter for all her latest releases.

