I only had one option. I was going to have to raid my sister’s wardrobe, which would have been fine if I wasn’t five inches taller and several kilos heavier than her.

Crap-a-doodle-do.

Chapter 2

After receiving no less than seven frantic text messages, my sister finally responded to my clothing emergency with excellent news. She’d bought an Alannah Hill dress during her last trip to Sydney and had never got around to altering it. It was in my size!

I found the dress hanging in the back of her wardrobe. It was gorgeous on the hanger, and it looked even better when I put it on. I retrieved my strappy sandals from my backpack—even though I knew the dress would have looked much better with heels, flats would have to do. Before I knew it, it was close to eleven and all I had done for three hours, was get ready and fret.

I wasn’t sure whether I was excited about my date with the silver fox, or nervous, but whatever the feeling was—perhaps a little of both—it was doing some spectacular gymnastics in my stomach. And even though I was expecting it, the bleat of the door buzzer made me leap. A grainy black and white image of James appeared on the wall console and I pressed the button so he could hear me.

“Hi James!” I said way too enthusiastically. Cool it, Sarah. I deliberately dropped my voice an octave. “I’ll be right down.”

“Wonderful!” he said, grinning into the camera. I took a step back even though he couldn’t see me, such was the impact of that smile.

During the elevator ride to the lobby, I attempted to calm myself by breathing in through my nose and exhaling long slow breaths out of my mouth. It was a shorter ride than I needed, though, because Cat only lived on the fourteenth floor.

Why does he make me feel so squidgy inside? I thought, as the elevator announced its arrival at the lobby. Then the doors opened and there he was, in all his glorious gorgeousness. Oh yeah, that’s why.

He smiled at me, reaching for my hand as I approached. I gave it willingly, transfixed by that smile, and he gently pulled me towards him, kissing me lightly on the lips. “Hello, beautiful,” he said, his voice like honey being poured over gravel.

“Hello, handsome,” I replied, as though I was someone way cooler than me. His eyes roved over my face and my shallow breaths reappeared, the traitors.

“We’re just out here,” he said suddenly, seeming to remember himself. He led me out of the building to his car, which was idling at the kerb. I don’t know what kind of car I was expecting him to drive—maybe a Jaguar or Mercedes—but I was pleasantly surprised to see a Peugeot RCZ in metallic marshmallow-white.

I knew what kind of car it was because I like cars—a lot—and the RCZ was at the top of my “if I won the lottery, I would buy this car” list. It suited him perfectly, just as elegant and sexy as he was.