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      About the Author

      NICOLA MARSH has always had a passion for writing and reading. As a young girl she devoured books when she should have been sleeping and later kept a diary whose contents could be an epic in itself!

      These days, when she’s not enjoying life with her husband and sons in her home city of Melbourne, she’s at her computer, creating the romances she loves, in her dream job.

      Visit Nicola’s website at www.nicolamarsh.com for the latest news of her books.

      For Heath,

      my littlest hero and very own precious miracle

      CHAPTER ONE

       ‘There is no such thing as the perfect man.’

      Keely Rhodes, age 19.

      ‘MBA. Nine o’clock!’

      Keely Rhodes didn’t waste time answering her friend and co-worker, Emma Radfield. Instead, she slowly turned her head ninety degrees to the left, trying to look nonchalant as she checked out the Major Babe Alert.

      However, rather than your average, run-of-the-mill babe, who occasionally popped into the sleek offices of Melbourne’s premier corporate website agency, WWW Designs, in search of the very best in Internet technology, this guy turned out to be the last person she had expected to see.

      ‘What do you think?’ Emma muttered under her breath, far less subtle in her attempt to ogle the guy as she craned her neck and elbowed Keely in the ribs.

      I think I’ve died and gone to heaven, Keely thought, eyeing every glorious inch of the six-foot-three, broad-shouldered frame as he strode towards the reception desk.

      Lachlan Brant was one fine specimen—and, by the confident charisma he oozed on the radio, probably knew it too.

      ‘That good, huh?’

      Tearing her gaze away from him, Keely fixed her friend with a curious stare. ‘Don’t you recognise him?’

      Emma shook her head. ‘Uh-uh. Believe me, if I’d seen that dreamboat before I would’ve remembered.’

      ‘The name Lachlan Brant ring any bells?’

      ‘The Lachlan Brant?’ Emma scanned him from head to foot and dabbed at the corner of her mouth. ‘Wow, he’s got the bod to match that incredibly sexy voice. Excuse me while I drool.’

      ‘Yeah, he’s not bad.’

      As her friend quirked an eyebrow, Keely grinned. ‘Okay, he’s pretty cute.’

      Emma’s other eyebrow joined the first.

      ‘Make that good-looking.’

      If Emma’s eyebrows shot any higher they would be hidden under her blonde fringe.

      Keely held up her hands in surrender. ‘Okay, he’s hot. Hotter than hot. He’s so hot he’s burning up. There, satisfied?’

      Her friend sighed. ‘I would be if a guy like that looked twice at me.’

      Keely rolled her eyes. ‘Yeah, right. Like you’re interested in anyone but Harry Buchanan. Though for the life of me I can’t understand why you’re still pining over your first love. Get over it already.’

      At the mention of Harry, Emma’s eyes glazed over as if lost in some precious private memory.

      Keely made an exasperated sound akin to a snort. ‘Anyone ever tell you you’re a hopeless romantic?’

      Emma smiled. ‘And I wouldn’t have it any other way. What do you think he’s doing here?’

      Filling her cup from the water-cooler and taking several long gulps to dislodge the lump of foreboding in her throat, Keely hoped to God it wasn’t for the reason she suspected.

      ‘Who knows? He’s probably dating our illustrious leader.’

      Or else he’d discovered the real identity of the caller who had given him more than he’d bargained for last week on his popular radio talkback show.

      ‘No way! He’d have better taste than that, surely?’

      Keely shrugged, not in the mood to dish the dirt on Rabid Raquel, the boss from hell, as most of her employees liked to call her. Right now, she was torn between wanting to keep an eye on Lachlan Brant and running back to her office and hiding from him.

      Besides, she had more important things to think about, like putting the finishing touches to the website for Melbourne’s largest athletic company, designing an upbeat site for Flirt, the newest women’s magazine about to hit the shelves, and planning Emma’s surprise birthday party.

      ‘I need to get back to work,’ she said, casting one final appreciative glance in Lachlan Brant’s direction before turning away.

      Emma sighed. ‘Yeah, me too. Lunch at Sammy’s? Midday? I’ll e-mail Tahlia.’

      ‘If she can tear herself away. Our Director of Sales seems tied to her desk these days.’

      ‘She’s gunning for that promotion, you know.’

      Keely nodded. If anyone understood, she should. After all, wasn’t that one of the main driving forces behind her maniacal hours at the moment? She’d coveted the role of Director of Graphic Design for the last year and might have a shot at the job if Nadia would ever announce her pregnancy.

      ‘Fine, but if she misses one more of our lunches she’ll become a very dull girl. You know what they say, all work and no play …’

      Emma sent her a sceptical look.

      Keely chuckled. ‘You’re right. As if anything about Tahlia could ever be dull.’

      Tahlia Moran was brash, effervescent and the life and soul of every party. Throw in gorgeous and confident and it was little wonder that Keely felt like faded wallpaper next to her other closest friend.

      ‘See you at midday.’

      However, before Keely could make her escape, Chrystal, receptionist extraordinaire—and all-round good-time gal if the office rumour mills were correct—waved her over.

      Thankful she’d worn her favourite power suit today, Keely strolled across the chrome and glass foyer as if facing Lachlan Brant,