“Aimee, will you marry me?

I want us to be the kind of family

that Toby deserves.”

This couldn’t be happening….

Five years ago she would’ve jumped up and down on the spot and flung her arms around his neck, screaming yes from the top of the tallest peak on Dunk Island.

Five years ago she’d dreamed of a proposal, and soon learned that life didn’t live up to expectations.

And as the fog of shock cleared at his spontaneous gesture, reality intruded, sharpening previously blurred edges till she wondered how she could’ve been so blind.

Jed didn’t want her; he wanted Toby.

He’d said as much. His proposal was talking about family, not about love. Yet for one brief, heart-stopping moment she’d almost believed in dreams again.

NICOLA MARSH

has always had a passion for writing and reading.

As a youngster, she devoured books when she should have been sleeping, and later kept a diary whose content could be an epic in itself!

These days, when she’s not enjoying life with her husband and son in her home city of Melbourne, she’s at her computer, creating the romances she loves in her dream job. Visit Nicola’s Web site at www.nicolamarsh.com for the latest news of her books.

Found: His Family
Nicola Marsh

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Silhouette Romance® has the pleasure of introducing you to new, young Australian author…

Nicola Marsh

Nicola will entertain you with her chatty and lively style.

Don’t miss her next book,

Inherited: Baby #3926

Coming in December from Mills & Boon Romance®

Maya Edison is doing just fine on her own. She doesn’t need a man to hold her hand…or a part-time father for her son. But single businessman Riley Bourke is starting to nudge his way into their hearts.

So Maya gives him an ultimatum: either he’s properly part of their lives…or there’s no place for him at all! Riley’s about to discover how it feels to have a family of his own!

Special thanks to two people who helped make this

book happen: Ola, for her medical input, and

my editor, Emily, for her enthusiasm and patience

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

AIMEE PAYET loved chocolate.

She loved savouring the melt-in-your-mouth texture on her tongue, drinking its delicious sweetness and kneading the sticky bits of heaven with her nimble fingers as she produced yet another masterpiece for Payet’s Patisserie, the cake shop she’d successfully managed for the last two years since her parents’ death.

Today, however, even chocolate couldn’t ease the deep sense of impending doom that hung over her like a storm cloud about to dump its deluge in a catastrophic downpour.

She glanced at her watch, the same action she’d done every few minutes for the last hour, her stomach churning as closing time grew nearer. Jed had left a message saying he’d be here at six, and if he hadn’t changed since she’d last seen him, he’d be here on the dot.

And her world would come crashing down around her.

‘Aimee?’

The moment he said her name, the last five years rolled away, his deep voice washing over her in a familiarity which took her breath away.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She’d dealt with her feelings, moved on, created a life for her and Toby. A life that didn’t included Jed Sanderson, her first love, her past love. A life where they didn’t need him. Until now.

Pasting a forced smile on her face while her insides churned with dread at what she had to tell him, she turned to face him. ‘Hi, Jed. Thanks for coming.’

The words sounded small, soft, as if she were hearing them through the wall of thick fog that occasionally rolled off Port Phillip Bay and shrouded Melbourne in its pea-soup density.

‘Are you all right?’

No, she wanted to scream. Nothing’s all right and, after I tell you the truth, nothing ever will be again.

Focusing her attention with effort, she saw the concern in his light brown eyes.

Eyes the colour of warm caramel.

Eyes that had captivated her from the first minute she’d seen them all those years ago.

Eyes that would soon fill with anger and pain when she told him about Toby. And what she wanted from him.

‘I’ve been better,’ she finally admitted, fiddling with the cash register, dropping her gaze to her fingernails, which were chewed to the quick courtesy of the earth-shattering news she’d received about Toby two days ago.

‘Look, why don’t you sit down and I’ll get you a drink?’

Before she could blink, he had scouted around the counter, taken gentle hold of her arm and was leading her to a corner table.

‘You don’t understand…’she started to say, shrugging off his hold while biting down on her lower lip to stop herself from crying. ‘I need to close up before we talk.’

‘Let me.’

He strode to the door, flipped the sign to ‘closed’ and turned the lock. The soft clunk of metal on metal resounded in her head as she suddenly realised her predicament: she was locked in her shop with Jed, the guy who’d broken her heart. The guy she’d never wanted to see again as long as she lived. The guy who’d fathered her son.

People streamed past the floor-to-ceiling glass windows as they bustled along Acland Street, St Kilda’s busiest thoroughfare any time of day or night, and she stared at them in anger, wishing she could be like them, without a care in the world. Jed had been her past and now, thanks to a cruel twist of fate, he could become her present.

‘I was surprised to hear from you after all this time,’ he said, leaning against the counter and looking way too handsome in his pinstripe designer suit, pale green shirt and matching tie, his dark hair curling around his collar the way it used to. ‘An Express Post letter seemed a bit formal. You could’ve called if it was that urgent.’

No, she couldn’t. Holding herself together following the doctor’s appointment had been hard enough without hearing Jed’s voice, hearing the judgement and censure when she told him the truth, a truth that would blow him away.

‘No, I needed to see you. The phone wouldn’t cut it for this.’

‘I’m intrigued.’

He smiled, a simple action which illuminated his eyes with warmth. Similar to the reaction his light grip had on her as he guided her to the table, infusing her with a reassuring heat she hadn’t felt since she’d last hugged her dad.

Dad…Mum…I wish you were here. I need you so much; Toby needs you so much.

How many times had she sent this silent plea heavenward over the last two years since her parents had unexpectedly died in a freak storm? Too many times to count and, once again, it went unheralded.

If her parents were around, she wouldn’t be about to have this conversation with a man she’d never intended to see again. They could’ve been tested as donors, the odds in favour that one of them would’ve been compatible and everything would’ve been OK.

Instead she’d been forced to contact Jed out of sheer desperation and, now he was here, she still had no idea if he would help her. She’d thought she’d known him inside and out at one stage.

She’d been wrong.

‘Before you pass out on me, how about I get you a coffee? Then we can have this talk that’s making you look like you’ve got a story and a half to tell me.’

She shook her head, finding the experience of being waited on by Jed in her own shop strangely surreal.

‘If anyone needs a hit of caffeine, you do,’ he said, his astute gaze sweeping over her as if he expected her to faint at his feet any second.

‘That would be great,’ she said, too tired to resist, too worried to argue.

Besides, he was right. She needed a jolt to jumpstart her brain, which had partially shut down since she’d seen the doctor and he’d delivered his mind-numbing news in a soul-destroying, terrifying week.

‘Mind if I have one? I could use a caffeine boost myself.’

‘Of course! I’m sorry, my mind is elsewhere.’

‘Don’t apologise. Flat white OK?’

She nodded and watched him handle the espresso machine like a pro. Dressed like that, she could imagine him with an army of subordinates serving him any type of coffee he chose any time of the day yet here he was, looking at home in the cosy space behind the counter of Payet’s Patisserie. Surreal didn’t come close to describing this bizarre encounter and it was about to get worse. A whole lot worse.

‘Help yourself to any cake you like,’ she said, knowing she should get up and do it herself but finding the lethargy that had invaded her body the last few days had spread now that she’d finally sat down.

Stopping wasn’t a good thing. Keeping busy was the key. The key to coping. To not focusing on the past. To not thinking about the future. It was how she’d survived the last few days, how she’d struggled to mend her broken heart after leaving Jed, how she’d raised Toby, how she’d always been the strong one in her family.

A family which had been decimated by tragedy, a family now consisting of Toby and her. And Jed, if he came through for them.

Yet right now, as strong as she tried to be, it felt good to let someone else take charge for a change, even if that someone was the last man on earth she would’ve approached, given a choice.

‘Thanks, but I’m watching my weight.’

He patted his waistline after placing two steaming coffees in front of them and smiled, a small, self-deprecating smile, and for the first time since Toby’s diagnosis she found herself responding.

The slight upturning of her lips at the corners felt foreign, like muscles stretching after the first Pilates class she’d ever taken, yet it felt good at the same time. Who would’ve thought Jed could actually make her smile again after what they’d been through, what they’d said to each other at the end?

However, her smile vanished as quickly as it had come. What was she thinking? Toby was dying and she was wasting time trading smiles with Jed. She needed to get on with things, with convincing him to help. Her momentary lapse had to be anxiety, a purely nervous reaction to a life-threatening situation and the role Jed would play. She hoped.

‘Ready to talk?’

Nodding, she took a quick gulp of coffee which scalded her tongue. Good, it might take the edge off her urge to bawl on his broad shoulders.

‘Whatever it is, it must be pretty bad for you to approach me after all this time.’

Cradling the hot mug in her hand, she peered at him over the rim, liking the changes the years had wrought. The smattering of grey in his black hair, the fine lines radiating from the corners of his striking eyes adding a seriousness to the boyish face which had once charmed her into loving him.

Though she’d dated through uni and been serious with one guy for about eight months, the minute she’d set foot on Dunk Island, walked into the restaurant for her first real job since graduating top of her French-pastry class and spied Jed she’d fallen. Hard.

They’d created magic together before her dreams deflated like a saggy soufflé.

Banishing her useless memories, she said, ‘I need your help.’

She had to keep it simple, short, straightforward. Lay the facts out before him, state her case, appeal to his better side, the side she knew he had despite how he’d pushed her away all those years ago.

‘With what?’ He paused, fixing her with the soul-searching stare only he did so well, his confident grin grating on her thinly stretched nerves. ‘You know I’m a supportive kind of guy.’

‘Yeah, right. Like the way you supported me right out of our relationship?’

Where had that come from? Why did she sound so accusatory, so annoyed, as though she still cared?

Shutters descended over his eyes in an instant, blocking out the warmth, shutting her out as he always had when he didn’t want to give her answers.

‘You wanted something I couldn’t give you back then.’

‘Couldn’t or wouldn’t?’

‘It’s not important.’ His lips set in a thin, stubborn line just the way they had used to and the familiar action ignited an old grudge that had been simmering for a few years.

‘Not important? I guess you would see it like that.’

He shook his head, anger tightening his features into hard angles. ‘Is this why you dragged me to Melbourne? To beat me up over something that happened five years ago? That finished five years ago?’

‘No, there’s something else.’

Suddenly she deflated, annoyed that she’d let him get to her like that. What had happened between them was over and had been for a long time. She’d dealt with it; she’d moved on. Why dredge up the past when it would only be detrimental to her cause? She needed to get him onside, not offensive.

‘Tell me.’

Swallowing the painful lump lodged in her throat, she raised her eyes to his, seeing a wary curiosity there as if he half expected another verbal spray.

‘My son’s ill,’ she blurted, blinking back tears at the injustice.

If anyone had to get sick, why couldn’t it be her? She was strong; she could handle it. She’d handled losing Jed, losing her parents. She was tough; she could take it. But Toby…he had his whole life in front of him. Her precious little boy had just turned five, would start school soon, had enrolled in a little athletics programme and had a zest for life that left her breathless and laughing most days.

Though the minute he’d turned lethargic, pale, with unexplained ugly bruises on his spindly arms and legs, she’d known. Something was dreadfully wrong and a visit to the doctor and a few blood tests had confirmed it.

Acute lymphoblastic leukaemia. The kind of disease that killed, the kind of disease her cheeky, gorgeous boy had no right contracting.

‘You have a son?’ A dark eyebrow shot up, lending him a weirdly comical look when there was nothing remotely funny about their situation.

Your son, she needed to say but instead she took another gulp of coffee, postponing the inevitable for another few seconds while furiously marshalling her thoughts.

How should she tell him? Straight out or work up to it? She’d mentally rehearsed this speech a hundred times in her head since he’d responded to her urgent plea, yet now her mouth couldn’t form the words.

‘He’s a lovely little boy.’ Tall like you, and those soft brown eyes exactly like yours. ‘He’s just been diagnosed with leukaemia.’ She waved her hand around in a vague gesture, wondering if he’d get it.

By the compassionate expression on his handsome face, he did.

‘I’m sorry. How awful for you.’

He reached towards her as if to place his hand over hers and she scuttled back like a scared mouse, her earlier misgivings about being locked up with him resurfacing. If seeing him again had packed a power-punch, having him touch her to offer comfort had the potential to undo her completely.

He didn’t say a word though she saw surprise flicker in the depths of his eyes and regret stabbed her at how far apart they’d grown. They’d been the invincible couple, the couple that everyone made gagging sounds about over their mushiness, the couple that couldn’t keep their hands off each other. They were the forever couple.

But, as she’d found out the hard way, nothing lasted forever.

Taking a deep breath, she launched down the path of no return. ‘Toby needs a bone-marrow transplant and I’m not compatible.’

‘Hell.’ He ran a hand through his hair, sending dark spikes shooting in every direction. ‘You need my help? Is it money? Do you need to start a donor search? Fund-raising? I can get the TV station to help. I can—’

‘I need you to be tested.’

There, she’d said it, though her voice came out on a soft squeak that had Jed sitting forward to hear it.

‘Me? But I’m not family…’ He trailed off, a flicker of comprehension flashing across his face in a microsecond before he continued in a cold, dull monotone. ‘How old is Toby?’

‘Five.’

She tilted her head up, meeting his dazed stare directly, not ashamed of the choices she’d made.

If Jed hadn’t wanted marriage back then, how would he have handled fatherhood? Dads were reliable, stable, rock-like types you could depend on, the type of amazing, supportive man she’d been lucky enough to have for a dad, not guys who couldn’t come clean to their girlfriends let alone enter a life-long commitment.

Whichever way she looked at it, she’d made the right choice in not telling Jed when she’d discovered her pregnancy. He’d moved on and so had she. He’d become Australia’s sexiest TV chef; she had a successful career, a booming business and a son she wouldn’t trade for all the tortes in Vienna. Toby was happy. She was happy. And then God had had to go and pull the rug out from under them.

‘Five.’ He repeated the number in a flat drone as if not quite comprehending the maths. ‘But that would mean—’

‘He’s yours.’

She sagged back against the seat, wrapping her arms around her middle in a purely protective gesture against the warring emotions flashing across Jed’s expressive face.

Disbelief, shock and confusion turned his eyes to molten caramel while he flushed beneath his tan.

‘What?’

‘Toby is your son,’ she repeated, finally giving in to the tears that had threatened since the minute she’d laid eyes on Jed again.

‘My son,’ he said softly, as if trying the words on for size, before the anger she’d been expecting erupted to the surface in a hot, fierce explosion. ‘My son? What the hell is going on here?’

CHAPTER TWO

JED watched Aimee, his gaze never leaving her face for a second. Any moment now she’d yell ‘fooled you’ and laugh, the same, bubbly laugh he’d loved years ago, the laugh that chased all his troubles away. Back then, he’d had a few.

‘Look, I know it’s a shock to you and believe me, I wouldn’t have involved you if I hadn’t been desperate, but—’

‘Stop it! Just stop right there.’

He stood up so quickly his chair toppled over, hitting the black and white tiled floor with a loud thud, and he resisted the urge to kick it.

Not only had the woman he’d once loved more than life itself just announced he was a father, but she also had to rub it in that he was the last person she’d approach unless desperate.

A father.

He closed his eyes, the two words echoing through his head like an old vinyl record stuck on replay.

How could he be a father when he didn’t know how? When it could only lead to disaster?

He’d tried the role once before in raising Bud and look how that had turned out. No way, fatherhood wasn’t for him. Some guys just weren’t cut out for that whole responsibility thing and he was one of them.

‘Jed, I know this is hard for you but please, try to put your own feelings on hold for a second and think of Toby.’

He opened his eyes and stared at the woman who had lied to him for the last five years, a woman who, for one crazy second when he’d read her urgent summons, he’d hoped might still feel something for him. What a joke. Unfortunately, he didn’t feel like laughing in this whole bizarre scenario.

‘Don’t you dare talk to me about feelings because frankly, you haven’t got a clue.’

‘You’re angry,’ she said, her hazel eyes filled with an understanding which had him wanting to punch a hole in the nearest wall.

He didn’t want her understanding. He wanted answers, starting with why she’d deprived him of the chance to know he had a son.

‘Damn right I’m angry.’

He righted the chair and slid into it, running a hand over his face as if to erase the last few minutes. ‘Actually, angry doesn’t come close to how I’m feeling. My God, what were you thinking, keeping something like this from me?’

She blanched and raised stricken eyes to his. ‘Would it have made a difference?’

‘A difference to what? To us?’

Her mute nod sent blonde curls cascading forward, effectively shading her face but not before he’d seen the sheen of tears.

Damn it, he hated tears. They made him feel helpless, and right now he didn’t want to feel anything other than anger towards her. She didn’t deserve his compassion. She didn’t deserve the intense, almost visceral impulse to bundle her into his arms and comfort her.

Suddenly, it dawned on him and his fury ignited anew.

‘Is that what all that marriage talk was about? You knew you were pregnant before we broke up and didn’t tell me?’

‘Of course not!’ A faint pink put some colour back in her pale cheeks, accentuating the gold flecks in her eyes, those same flecks that had used to glow with emotion, with passion.

‘Then when? When did you find out?’

Her hand crept up to her mouth, the nervous gesture annoying him when years ago he’d found it endearing.

‘After we’d broken up. I’d already returned to Melbourne and started work here when I realised.’

‘Realised what? Realised you were about to bring a child into this world without a father? Realised you made a decision that affected the both of us without consulting me?’

‘But it didn’t affect you. You weren’t around. You were never going to be around!’

Her chest heaved, her eyes flashed and she slammed her hand onto the table, rattling the cups in their saucers. ‘You have no right to question my decision. You had the opportunity to build a future with me, to have the life we’d always talked about, but you bailed out. You! Not me. Why would I take the risk on you bailing out on my son as well?’

‘Our son,’ he automatically corrected and blinked in surprise, her accusations sitting like a heavy stone on his heart.

She was right. He had walked away from the best thing to ever happen to him though not by choice. He’d had to push her away, to save her from the scandal that would’ve ripped their relationship apart.

He’d made his decision at the time, the only choice available to him, yet here he was, questioning her choices? Giving her a hard time when they had more important things to think about, like saving the boy’s life?

‘This isn’t getting us anywhere,’ he said, swallowing his bitterness at the unfairness of it all. ‘Tell me more about Toby.’

The tension drained from her body and she slumped into her seat again, the harried expression slipping over her face like a well-worn mask. ‘You’re sure you can handle this?’

Hell, what kind of man did she think he was? The useless, spineless, weak man his father had been? No, he was nothing like dear old Dad, the man who had cost him a future with the woman staring at him as if he could morph into a monster at any second.

‘What do you want me to handle? My instant fatherhood? That Toby is sick? Or the fact that you lied to me and I’ll never be able to forgive you for it?’

Hurt flickered in her eyes, a flash of unadulterated pain that made him feel guilty, though it didn’t last. His emotions were too raw, too intense, too devastating for him to give her an inch.

She saw him as some last-ditch option, as a man not worthy of knowing he had a son unless it was a matter of life and death, and the truth hurt like hell, making him want to lash out in return.

‘I don’t want your forgiveness, I want your help,’ she said, her defiance startling when he almost expected her to fall apart if her pale face and bloodshot eyes were any indication.

Not that he wanted her to. He didn’t want to play knight in shining armour, not when he had more pressing matters like trying to assimilate the fact he was a father.

‘That’s right, you’re desperate,’ he sneered, pushing away from the table and striding to the window, hating himself for pushing her like this but unable to stop. A deep, perverse need to punish her egged him on, to make her pay for keeping him in the dark because she hadn’t trusted him enough.

‘I’m sorry.’ Her soft touch on his arm made him jump and he jerked away, needing distance between them before he did something even more out of character, such as walk out the door and never look back.

Though to Aimee’s way of thinking, that wouldn’t be so unexpected. For all he knew, she probably expected him to run. Again.

Staring blindly out the window, he saw a guy with a stroller unbuckle a little boy from the contraption, swing and settle him on top of his shoulders, both grinning madly as they trotted off down the street. He’d seen kids and dads a thousand times before and the scene had never affected him the way it did at that moment, a hard, tight knot forming in the pit of his stomach, making him feel sick that he had a little boy of his own and knew nothing about him. That he’d never be any good at any of that father-son stuff that was expected of dads.

Though Aimee wasn’t asking him to be a father to Toby. She only wanted him to get tested as a donor. Somehow, that made him feel a whole lot worse.

Ignoring the churning dread in his gut, he turned to face her. ‘I can deal with the anger stuff. Right now, tell me what I need to do about Toby.’

Her gaze searched his face for a moment, apparently satisfied by what she saw. ‘OK. We don’t have much time so I took the liberty of making an appointment with the doctor tonight for you to get tested and ask any questions you might have.’

Her presumptuousness—her assumption that he’d drop everything and help her after the way things had ended between them—rankled like nothing else.

He needed more time. Time to come to grips with the bomb she’d just dropped on him, time to grasp the full reality of what being a dad meant, time to gain control over the slow-burning anger that made him want to explode all over again.

However, three little words penetrated his dazed brain. Not much time…

Aimee had approached him out of desperation and the little guy didn’t have much time.

He couldn’t wallow in his anger or stew over her deception, he had to make a choice. Now. And just like five years earlier, it was a no-brainer.

‘Fine. I’ll do it. When do I get to meet Toby?’

She averted her gaze, staring out the window behind him. ‘It will be too late tonight so it’ll have to be tomorrow. He’s so tired all the time and the hospital keep pretty strict visiting hours.’

‘Even for parents?’

‘N-no, parents are welcome any time.’

Her slight hesitation had him on full alert. She was hiding something. Something else, and suddenly it hit him like an exploding volcano: swift, scorching, devastating, and burning an agonising trail right through his soul.

She didn’t want him to meet Toby.

If he had the test and wasn’t compatible, she wanted him to walk away. To leave as if nothing had changed, as if his son didn’t exist.

Well, he had news for her.

‘I know you don’t see me as father material but I’m here now and I’d like a chance to meet my son.’

The words fell out of his mouth in a rush, as if by saying them he couldn’t take them back. And right then, it hit him. He didn’t want to take them back, despite the fear he’d be lousy father material.

My son.

He still couldn’t comprehend the two words and had no idea how he really felt or what he’d say when he came face to face with Toby, but suddenly he was damn sure about one thing. He wanted a chance, a chance to meet his son.

Aimee nodded, her shoulders slumped in weary defeat as if she’d gone ten rounds with him and lost. ‘You ready to go to the hospital now? It’s not far.’

‘Let’s go.’ He tried to inject some life into his voice but it fell flat as he mulled over the truth he’d just learned and the implications for them all.

Aimee moved around the shop like an automaton, flicking off lights, pulling down blinds and setting the coolers for the cakes. His protective instincts urged him to help her but he didn’t move, sensing she needed to do the simple, repetitive actions as a way to buy time to steady her emotions.

If she was feeling half as punch-drunk as he was after their confrontation, she’d be an emotional wreck on the inside.

Besides, she didn’t need his help. She’d made it clear that she’d been doing fine on her own without him these last five years and it stuck in his craw, fuelling his latent resentment that she viewed him as some sort of stopgap measure.

‘Jed?’

He jumped, surprised by the quiver in her voice as she snuck up behind him.

‘Yeah?’

‘Thanks for doing this. For being here with me.’ Tears shimmered in her eyes as she looked up at him, as if beseeching him to understand. ‘For being here for Toby.’

He was angry, shaken, confused, yet when she finally gave into the tears that had been threatening he had no option but to envelop her in his arms, smooth her hair and make soft, soothing noises as his anger shifted slightly to be replaced by an emotion he didn’t want to acknowledge, an emotion that had fuelled his actions years earlier, an emotion that could only lead to more pain.

Guilt could be a terrible thing.

CHAPTER THREE

JED stared at the doctor’s lips, watching them move, hearing the words but having trouble processing them.

Acute lymphoblastic leukaemia.

The diagnosis sounded so much worse coming from the uptight medic in a too-tight white coat, the word ‘leukaemia’ reverberating around Jed’s head till he wanted to run from the room, find a secluded corner and curl up in a tight ball with his hands over his ears.

He’d had a similar gut-wrenching reaction when the head juror had pronounced his father guilty, and later when the judge had sentenced him to ten years behind bars.

‘You sure about this?’

He met the doctor’s disapproving gaze that read ‘how dare you question me?’ straight on, praying this was a mistake, that the doc would clear his throat, apologise and send them on their way with a prescription for antibiotics.

However, he’d given up on prayers being answered around the time his dad had done his first stint in jail and he knew without a doubt that his current plea to God was just as futile.

The doctor shook his head, his fingers toying with a fancy gold pen as he reinforced the news that sent a chill down his spine.

‘I’m sorry. We ran extensive tests and they were conclusive. Toby’s loss of appetite, fatigue, frequent nose bleeds and bruising had me concerned when Aimee first brought him in and I had a fair idea what we’d find.’

‘I see,’ Jed said, not seeing in the slightest, questioning the injustice of a world where the bad guys usually won and a helpless little boy had to cope with an illness like this.

‘What’s the treatment?’ To his credit, his voice remained steady while his insides roiled in one huge, anxious mess.

The doctor continued to fiddle with his pen, rolling it over and over with his fingers, and he had the sudden urge to lean over and slam his hand on top of it.

‘There are several components to treatment,’ the doctor said, his cool detachment annoying him almost as much as his fiddling fingers. ‘Toby has a good prognosis as his white blood-cell count is less than thirty thousand, and with chemotherapy and radiation therapy his chances of remission are high.’

Chemotherapy…radiation therapy…remission…

The words echoed through his head, banging and crashing their way through the neurons and triggering a blinding headache that left him paralysed.

Toby didn’t deserve this. Nobody deserved this. He’d seen the suffering on TV and in the newspapers, seen kids with pale faces, bald heads and brave smiles. His heart had gone out to them and now the son he’d only just discovered would go through the same torture all in the name of survival.

‘Of course, a bone-marrow transplant gives the best hope for not having a relapse.’

‘Is a transplant always necessary?’ Jed asked, bracing himself for the next bombshell this cruel man dropped. Though in all fairness, it wasn’t the doc’s fault. He was here to help them, and from now on they’d be placing a lot of faith in his skills. If only he’d stop tapping that damn pen on the file in front of him!

‘Not always. Some people are cured after just chemical intervention. However, it’s best to consider all possibilities.’ The doctor tilted his head forward and stared at him over the top of his steel-rimmed spectacles as if willing him to comprehend what he was telling him.

Damn, this wasn’t fair. The diagnosis, the fact Aimee hadn’t told him about Toby before this, the chance to be a dad to Toby ripped from him before he could try, even if he sucked at it.

In the midst of his self-pity, it struck him. Aimee had already gone through this, had heard the diagnosis, the treatment, the chances. Alone.

She’d gone through this horrible experience by herself, and suddenly the guilt returned. Guilt at how he’d treated her, how he hadn’t been around, how he’d never known his son and might not have that chance now. He needed to get over it and move on, for all their sakes.

‘Tell Jed about the transplant,’ Aimee said, a hint of steel threaded through the softness of her voice, and his admiration for her skyrocketed.

The doctor nodded. ‘An allogenic bone-marrow transplant usually comes from a sibling donor, from a relative or even a compatible stranger. We harvest the bone marrow, which is the liquid centre of bone, from the donor and the recipient gets it in an IV over one to five hours.’

‘IV? Oh.’ Jed winced, hoping his son didn’t have his phobia for needles. ‘What does the harvesting procedure involve?’

Though he had a sneaking suspicion he knew. His high-school biology wasn’t that rusty and he remembered covering BMT—bone-marrow transplants—in an assignment.

The doctor’s pen tapping increased as if he didn’t have time for such mundane questions and Jed briefly envisioned ramming that pen in a few places a pen shouldn’t be.

‘The donor is given an anaesthetic, a needle is inserted into the hip bone and the marrow drawn out. Harvesting the marrow takes about an hour and is more uncomfortable for the donor than the recipient.’

‘Great. About time you gave me some good news,’ Jed muttered, his sarcasm not lost on the doctor, who actually looked as if he might crack a smile for all of two seconds.

‘Anything else you’d like to ask?’ The doctor paused for a moment before rushing on, obviously none too keen on further questions. ‘If not, I’d like to have you tested as soon as possible.’

‘Just one more thing.’

All this medical talk of various treatment methods was fine but what if none of it worked? What if the unthinkable happened? What if Toby died?

The thought made Jed feel faint and he dropped his head forward, taking deep breaths till the spots before his eyes cleared.

‘Is he going to live?’

Aimee’s sharp intake of breath reverberated around the room and she tried to smother it with a forced cough. As if the scenario the doctor had painted for them in plain, harsh language wasn’t bad enough, he’d had to force the issue, to hear the reassurance he desperately craved.

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment his mindset shifted but at some moment in time, as the doctor rambled on about treatment and prognosis, he’d suddenly realised that he wanted a chance with Toby. A chance at what he still hadn’t figured out, but he knew that just meeting the little guy wouldn’t be enough.

He may not know how to be a father.

He may not even want that kind of responsibility.

But right now he knew he wanted to take a chance and see what kind of man he was, what kind of a dad he could be.

And the realisation scared him to death.

The doctor pursed his lips in disapproval and sent him a glare over his specs. ‘We can’t give guarantees.’

‘No, I guess not,’ Jed said, the sudden realisation that even if he was compatible, that even if Toby underwent every form of life-saving treatment known to man he could still die hit home with the force of a hurricane with the potential to leave as much devastation in its wake.

‘Right. Let’s get this underway, then.’

If the doctor had appeared cold and detached before, he seemed positively frosty now. Must be his way of distancing himself in a world filled with bad news and worse.

‘You OK?’ Jed turned to Aimee as her hand fluttered nervously near her face, pushing a frizzy blonde strand out of her eyes, determined to show she wasn’t intimidated despite the solemnity of the occasion.

He’d always admired that about her, her ability to take on anyone and anything. Bold, brash and undeniably feisty, his Aimee had been a woman going places. Unfortunately, she wasn’t ‘his Aimee’ any longer and the only place they were both going for the next few months was straight to a living hell.

‘Yeah, how about you?’

‘I can do without the whole needle thing but I’m OK.’

Her lips twitched in a small, tight smile, drawing his attention to their shape, their fullness, reminding him how they had once contoured to his so perfectly. Before he felt like an absolute bastard for remembering something like that when Toby’s life was at stake.

‘Still don’t like needles, huh?’

‘I’ll survive,’ he said, wanting to kick himself for his poor choice of words as her mouth drooped and she paled.

‘I’m sorry—’

‘If you’ll follow me, we can get started.’ The doctor bustled back in the room, preventing him from trying to make up for that horrible gaffe. Though what could he do—take it back?

Hell. He hadn’t even met Toby yet and he was already bumbling along like a loser. What hope did he have?

‘Come on.’ Aimee stood up, her movements stiff and jerky, and before he knew what was happening the doctor had ushered them out the door and into the cold, sterile corridor that led to a waiting room jam-packed with people. People with pale faces, worried faces, people hoping for a miracle just as they were.

‘He’s going to be OK. We have to believe that,’ she said, her voice so soft he had to lean forward to catch her words, as if she was reciting an often practised mantra.

This was crazy.

A few hours ago he’d been a guy on top of the world, Australia’s answer to Jamie Oliver, whipping up gourmet meals in his award-winning restaurant in Sydney while hosting his own TV series on a weekly basis. A guy who enjoyed life, who valued fine food, good wine and cherished his private down-time when he loved to sail. A guy who’d been looking forward to catching up with an old flame, curiosity quickening his heartbeat in anticipation as to why she’d wanted to see him.

Now all that had changed. That carefree guy had become a father, a father of a sick child, and nothing would ever be the same again.

‘Your strength is amazing,’ he said, wanting to cup Aimee’s cheek, to savour the soft skin beneath his palm but unable to broach the huge emotional gap between them. That comforting hug back at the shop had only served to push them further apart; he’d been annoyed for being a softie when his anger was still raw and she’d looked downright uncomfortable. ‘For what it’s worth, I think you’re spot on. Toby’s going to be all right.’

He has to be, for all our sakes.

Her eyes misted but she didn’t cry, the gold flecks shining through her unshed tears, her bravery setting a clamp around his heart and squeezing, hard.

‘Yes, he’s going to be all right,’ she echoed, staring at him with fervent hope in her eyes, as he wished he had half her conviction.

Aimee slipped into Toby’s room while Jed underwent testing, being careful not to wake her sleeping son. She tiptoed across the faded linoleum floor imprinted with bunnies, wrinkling her nose at the pungent disinfectant smell so characteristic of hospitals. She hated it. Give her the smell of warm chocolate, cinnamon and baking any day.

Reaching his bedside, she stood over her beautiful son, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the dark blonde hair plastered to his scalp in messy whorls, his long eyelashes casting shadows against his pale cheeks. Swaddled in sheets, he looked so small, so helpless. So sick.

Toby had rarely been ill over the last five years, apart from a bout of chickenpox as a toddler and the occasional cold. He was a strong, resilient boy who loved to run along St Kilda beach, kicking his feet through the sand and frolicking in the waves during summer. He’d climb anything, jump off anything, his daredevil attitude leaving her with her heart in her mouth on several occasions.

But nothing like this.

Nothing like this totally useless feeling that consumed her, that ate away at her till she wanted to scream. Her son could be dying and there wasn’t one darn thing she could do about it.

Though contacting Jed had been proactive even if it was the last thing she’d wanted to do. She didn’t want him in her life, in Toby’s life. It could only lead to pain and disappointment and she’d already been there, done that.

Jed wasn’t a family man. He didn’t know the meaning of the word, while she’d raised Toby, built a flourishing business and created a comfortable home for them.

Uh-uh, there was no room for Jed in their lives yet fate had changed all that, had taken away her options.

And now he was here, bristling with anger, blaming her when he had no right. He’d given up his rights the minute he’d walked away from her without looking back.

Though at least he’d come when she’d asked and that had to count for something. Not only that, but she’d also seen him push aside his own feelings and concentrate on Toby, the son he’d just discovered. It took a big man to do that and, despite her own twisted bitterness towards him for ruining their future and breaking her heart in the process, she had to admire him for standing up when it counted.

Toby stirred, his head thrashing from side to side as if he was trapped in a nightmare. Her heart clenching with fear at the real, live nightmare they all faced over the next few months, she leaned forward, smoothed his brow and dropped a light kiss on his clammy forehead.

‘I love you, Tobes,’ she murmured, inhaling his little-boy smell the way she had used to when he was a baby, savouring their closeness, thanking God that he’d come into her life.

He snuffled and turned onto his side, snuggling into the blankets, a small smile playing around his mouth.

Yes, he was definitely a precious miracle she was thankful for every day. Now, if only Jed was compatible, the treatment worked and Toby lived the long, happy life he deserved, that would be a true miracle indeed.

Stifling the sob that rose in her throat, she swiped at her tears and crept from the room.

And walked straight into the man who held Toby’s life in his hands.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘TOBY’s sleeping,’ Aimee said, her gaze fixed on Jed’s lapels.

She couldn’t look him in the eye, not with the strange fluttering in her belly that began the minute he’d steadied her, his hands warm and firm against her bare upper arms. Darn it, she remembered that feeling all too well, the buzz of being held by him, the yearning to get closer.

But what was the deal now? Those feelings were long gone. She’d seen to that with the many nights she’d spent talking to the baby she carried, focusing on the new life growing inside her rather than the guy who’d helped create it. Being pregnant had been a godsend, channelling all her energy into a positive outcome rather than the assured pity party she would’ve thrown had she returned to Melbourne alone and broken-hearted.

‘Is he OK?’ Jed dropped his hands and looked at the door to Toby’s room as if he wanted to barge in there and see for himself.

‘Uh-huh. He’s always been a good sleeper, thank goodness, so once he’s out for the night he’ll sleep right through.’

‘Good.’

Their stilted conversation came to an abrupt end and she fiddled with the stitching on her bag, eager to escape Jed’s intimidating presence but unsure how to extract herself gracefully.

He was here and he was here to help. She needed to remember that, no matter how uncomfortable he made her feel.

‘I’m heading home,’ she said, trying not to squirm under his intense stare. Why was he looking at her like that, as if sizing her up?

‘Aren’t you staying?’

She heard the censure in his voice, the silent accusation that what sort of a mother was she to leave her sick child alone in hospital?

Hating her compulsion to justify herself to him, she said, ‘I hate leaving Toby but sleeping on a fold-up bed next to his bed wouldn’t help either of us. He’s a bright boy; he knows he’s unwell but not the severity of it. If I start staying over, he’ll know something is dreadfully wrong and I don’t want that. He needs to stay positive and I need to stay alert for the both of us.’

‘I see.’ By the thinness of his compressed lips, he didn’t. ‘What time will you be back in the morning? I’d like to meet our son.’

Our son.

Why did the sound of Jed’s deep voice saying those two simple words have such a devastating effect on her?

Maybe because she’d always thought of Toby as hers.

Maybe because there hadn’t been ‘our’ anything between them for so long.

Or maybe she was so darned scared of what letting Jed into their lives could do.

She needed calm right now, not havoc, and though Jed’s presence here was important for medical reasons she could do without the emotional complication.

‘I have to speak to Marsha, the manager at the shop, first thing in the morning but I should be here about ten.’

He didn’t look happy. So what was new? He hadn’t stopped giving her dirty looks since she’d told him about Toby, his anger a palpable entity that radiated off him in nasty waves and all directed at her.

‘Look, I know this has to be tough on you but you’re here now and waiting another twelve hours isn’t going to make a difference.’ She laid a tentative hand on his sleeve, once again annoyed at the little sizzle of heat that arced between them.

This couldn’t be happening. It shouldn’t be happening, not with Toby lying in there, fighting for life.

Dropping her hand quickly, she was unprepared for his light touch under her chin as he raised her face to look into his.

‘Stop trying to tell me how I’m thinking or feeling. You don’t know how tough this is on me. In fact, you don’t know anything about me any more. So just drop it, OK?’

The pain in his eyes ripped into her and she blinked in an effort to shield herself from it. For a guy she’d assumed would make lousy father material, he sure was more emotionally connected than she’d given him credit for.

‘I’m sorry.’ Her whisper hung in the awkward silence between them, till the faint beeping of a patient’s monitor disrupted the unnatural quiet in the corridor.

‘Sorry for what? Sorry for lying to me all these years? Or sorry you’re going to have to let me into Toby’s life now?’

‘That’s unfair.’ She averted her gaze quickly but his grip on her chin tightened, forcing her to look at him.

‘Is it? Rather rich, seeing as I’m the one who should be crying unfair right about now.’

‘Why are you doing this? Punishing me isn’t going to help Toby. I thought we sorted the problems between you and me back at the shop.’

For a long, interminable second he stared into her eyes and the pain shifted, replaced by another emotion she couldn’t define or didn’t want to, as his gaze lowered to her lips for a moment before returning to lock on to hers.

Her heart tripped as his grip on her chin softened and he leaned towards her an infinitesimal inch, a subtle heat smouldering in his golden eyes.

No way. That banked heat had to be anger, disgust, anything other than need, surely?

And to make matters worse, her pulse raced at the thought.

‘You don’t know the meaning of punishment,’ he said, his soft, minty breath fanning her face way too close before he dropped his hand and stepped away, running a hand through his hair and adding to the dishevelled air he’d had about him since the testing.

The test! She’d been so caught up in the awkwardness between them, she hadn’t even asked how it had gone. As for his cryptic comment, she assumed he was referring to her not telling him about Toby and she chose to ignore it, too tired to fight any more.

‘How did the testing go?’

He grimaced and showed her the back of his hand, where a faint purplish bruise was already taking shape. ‘I hate needles for a reason. Damn medicos can never find a vein in my elbow crease so they always go for the back of my hand and it hurts like hell.’

‘Poor baby,’ she crooned, surprised by her urge to tease and even more surprised by her smile. That was twice in one evening he’d made her smile when she hadn’t felt like it in days.

In a way, having Jed around could be a good thing and not just as a potential donor for Toby. If she was completely honest with herself, she liked having a male around who didn’t depend on her totally, who could pick up the slack or who could just be there if she needed him. Not that she could count on Jed. She’d learned that the hard way.

‘Guess a kiss to make it better is out of the question?’ He held out his hand, staring at it in mock dismay as if the tiny bruise had developed into a giant haematoma.

Her lips twitched at the startling similarity between father and son, Toby pulling this same trick last month when he’d jammed his finger in the fridge door—while pilfering a vanilla slice she’d said no to!

‘Maybe not.’

Jed’s eyes were riveted to hers in wide-eyed shock as she kissed her fingertips and casually tapped them on the back of his hand. ‘There, all better.’

Shaking his head, he thrust the all-better hand into his trouser pocket, glaring at her with irritation. ‘You still confuse the hell out of me.’

Her smile faded as reality intruded.

The way she saw it, there had been no confusion in their happy relationship. Until she’d introduced the topic of forever and he’d started playing hide and seek, that was. Then there had been confusion and plenty of it, unfortunately all on her part.

‘I have to go.’

Her sharp response shattered the last of any lingering camaraderie that she’d falsely created with her teasing. What had she been thinking anyway? Getting along with Jed for the sake of Toby was one thing, getting too familiar another.

It was his fault with that unexpected look he’d given her, the one which screamed ‘I still think you’re hot’. Or was it hers, a spot of wishful thinking tainting her reactions to the one man who had once rocked her world?

Either way, she needed to get out of here. Away from Jed, away from his all-seeing eyes, away from the temptation of staying by his side just because it felt so darn good to share her problems with someone else.

‘I’ll give you a lift,’ he said, fishing his keys out of his pocket and standing back to let her lead the way.

‘No!’ she practically shouted before lowering her voice with effort as he raised an eyebrow. ‘I’ll take a taxi and you head back to your hotel. You must be exhausted after the day you’ve had. After all I’ve dumped on you. In fact—’

‘Shh.’ His finger against her lips stopped her babbling while kick-starting her pulse again. It hammered and tripped and pounded its way through veins suddenly way too small for all that blood, depriving her oxygen-starved brain of a much needed jolt.

‘I’ll drop you off. Besides, I’m staying at the Bayside Novotel just down the road from you. Come on.’

Why couldn’t she move? Say something? Do something? She didn’t want to be confined in his snazzy hire car. She didn’t want to talk or smile or feel any of the other crazy things he’d made her feel over the last few hours.

She wanted to go home to bed, to think, to pray for her little boy and to forget every reason why this man made her feel so protected, so comforted, when he had no intention of sticking around for the long haul.

‘Aimee? You’re swaying on your feet. Let’s go.’

The last of the fight drained out of her and she followed him, blowing a silent kiss in Toby’s direction.

Her son would meet his father tomorrow and heaven help her if she didn’t handle it a lot better than the last few hours with Jed.

Jed looked out of his hotel window, his absent-minded stare taking in the glittering lights of Melbourne in the distance, the sweep of the shoreline of Port Phillip Bay and the neon glow from bars and restaurants in a bustling St Kilda on his doorstep.

Usually he loved the bright lights, the razzle-dazzle of any city at night, and he’d been around the world to quite a few. Before his stint on Dunk Island and the events that had changed his life, he’d worked in Bali, Singapore and Hong Kong, cooking up a storm at various five-star hotels.

Then he’d met Aimee and nothing had ever been the same again.

Closing his eyes, he leaned his forehead against the cold glass, enjoying the cooling effect on his throbbing head. He had a blinder of a headache and, with the jumbled thoughts swirling through his mind, it looked as if it wouldn’t abate in a hurry.

When he’d first walked into the patisserie earlier this evening and seen Aimee, his heart had slammed into his ribcage as the years rolled back. She looked the same: blonde curls in a tantalising mess around her heart-shaped face, hazel eyes crinkling at the corners while she was deep in thought, her full lips pursed ever so slightly.

Then she’d turned to face him and he knew he was wrong. She didn’t look the same, she looked amazing, despite the smudge of icing sugar along her jaw and the dark rings of fatigue under her eyes. Not that they were any surprise, considering the bombshell she’d dropped on him.

He had a son. Toby.

And it was just as terrifying now as when she had first told him.

At least his anger had abated some, though he still felt like finding a kitchen somewhere and whipping up a gourmet meal for a hundred or so. Where his mates channelled their fury into kick-boxing and triathlons, he preferred whipping up a frenzy in the kitchen as an outlet for pent-up emotion, and man, was he on overload at the moment.

He’d barely absorbed the news he was Toby’s father before Aimee lumped the rest of it on him, the worst part, about Toby’s illness, and his anger had kicked in all over again.

What if his marrow wasn’t compatible? What if he didn’t know how to be a father at a time when Toby needed him the most? What if Toby hated him on sight?

Hell, he hadn’t even got into that with Aimee. How much had she told Toby? Did the boy know he had a father and, if so, what was his excuse for staying away for the first five years of his life?

The pain in his head increased as he contemplated questions he had no answers to.

He’d had this trip all planned out: see Aimee, hear her out, try to rekindle some of their old magic and see what happened.

Though she wouldn’t believe him, he’d changed. He’d done his duty, standing by his dad when he needed him the most. However, there wasn’t much he could do now apart from paying regular visits to the prison and, while the rest of his life had taken off like a rocket for outer space, his personal life lacked spark.

Sure, he had women schmoozing up to him all the time. TV did that for a bloke. But they were all fake, arm-candy types from the tops of their blonde foils to their nipped and tucked bottoms. He dated, he socialised but no one came close to filling the void Aimee had left when they’d split up and her urgent plea to see him couldn’t have come at a better time.

So he’d thought.

Now he had a woman who still despised him for the secrets he’d had to keep years ago, a son whom he suddenly found himself wanting to know yet paralysed with fear of inadequacy, and a situation he had no control over.

That’s bull and you know it. You’ve been in charge of your own destiny since you were fourteen years old and the old man did his first stint behind bars. You’re in control. You always have been.

Jed blinked in surprise at the ferocity of his voice of reason but it did the trick. He straightened, rubbed a weary hand over his eyes and headed for his laptop.

He had things to do, a life to prioritise.

So what if he hadn’t come to terms with his new role as a dad yet?

So what if he was so scared of failure he wanted to bolt back to Sydney as if none of this had ever happened?

The simple fact was, his son needed his help and he either stood up or wimped out, the second not an option.

Starting right now, Toby came first and everything else could be delegated or rescheduled. He may not be able to control the length of time he had with his son but by God he’d make every second count.

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